Hello! There are probably a few things you should know about this story. Firstly, it's not very likely to have a happy ending, it will contain a lot of potentially disturbing content. Not like plotless gore, but without giving to much away I can say there will be character deaths and also smut.
Obviously the main pairing is Zemyx, but there will be others.
I'd also like to point out that self-harm is a strong theme in this fic, if you're likely to find this offensive or triggering then don't read it. I don't mean to offend anyone.
Anyways, without further ado, enjoy. ^^
Zexion closes his eyes. Music floats between his ears, the headphones are on so loud he might as well have not been wearing them, but he likes the feel of the heavy notes reverberating through his skull. He twirls a small object between the fingers of one hand, the other arm stretched out in front of him.
He pauses, the moment seems to last forever. His hand trembles slightly as he poised the blade over his wrist. It's a well-rehearsed routine, but his breathe hitches none the less as the cool metal meets his skin. They say that the first cut is always the deepest.
It's true.
He applies a steady pressure, gradually pushing deeper, twisting the blade slightly, as he drags it slowly through his flesh. The pain flows through him as freely at the music and he sighs, feeling soothingly comforted by it.
Zexion opens his eyes just in time to see the first droplets of blood appearing in the open wound. Within seconds, the rivulets of red are running down his wrist. He watches as a few hit onto the bathroom floor; the bright crimson a stark contrast against the white tiles.
More cuts follow, all horizontal but at different angles, drawing out a new pattern of latticework against the already scarred skin. The songs play on, and an rare expression of contentment settles on Zexion's face, night's like this are truly his favourite.
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Every school has it's cliques, a social hierarchy that keeps things running smoothly between the people who're popular and the people who are made to know that they aren't. Twilight High is no exception.
There are the aloof nerds, the pot-smoking rebels, the probably also pot-smoking artists, the confrontational goths, the not-so-confrontational emos, the spoilt rich kids, the under-rated nice kids, the slags, the gangsters, the wannabes and all-adored jocks.
Now if you've managed the bag yourself a decent reputation at Twilight High, you should probably do your best to keep it. Demyx Watera knew this well. He was at the uppermost end of this hierarchy, a jock. Aka. rich parents, good looks, star of at least one sports team, and constantly struggling to keep half-decent grades, not that he could really complain about his grades, that was his parents' job.
He walked through the school gates with a contented sigh, school tended to run pretty smoothly when everyone either wants you, or wants to be you. He ran a hand through his spiked hair exchanging smiles with a couple of pretty girls. It sure beat being at home anyway. Affairs got so much more heated when there were a few million dollars in the mix.
The tall blonde pushed open the doors at the front of school and was instantly engulfed by the swarm of people. It was late November and chilly weather meant that everyone had begun to dress for winter.
He seemed to draw everyone's attention as pushed through the crowds. A cheerleader batted her eyelashes at him, a guy with a skateboard held out a hand for him to high-five, another guy tossed him a basketball and quickly told him that there'd be practice after school, a group of freshmen passed by watching him with half-disguised admiration and young gave him a casual 'hello' with an even worse disguised blush colouring her cheeks. Everyone in the school had a place and Demyx knew that he himself sat somewhere at the centre, not that he was vain, just self-assured.
A spiked mess of flame-red hair told him he was about the meet someone who beat even him in being self-assured.
'Demyx,' he was met with his best friend's irritated expression, a cigarette hanging from his lips, 'dude, why didn't you show up yesterday. The party was fucking awesome.'
Demyx rolled his eyes, 'Dude, you know my parents aren't letting me out till finals are over. And put that out Axel, you're gonna give us all lung cancer.'
Axel just shrugged, but did in fact put out the cigarette as a teacher passed by them. 'Well, they let you out for basketball practice don't they, and Kairi's house party was well more worth it than that.'
The blonde shook his head, 'As much as I'm sure you guys had a great time getting high on weed, I don't know I would have enjoyed it quite so much.'
Axel just shrugged again, reaching to light up another smoke.
He fell firmly under the 'rebel' category. Like Demyx he came from a wealthy family, (not that you would have guessed) and up until a couple of years ago, he'd been doing pretty good at school; on the honour roll and the hockey team. He'd had a gleaming reputation, until his father died and everything changed. His mother started drinking and never left the house. Leaving Axel effectively on his own. Axel gave up with school, and instead fell in with what could be called 'the wrong crowd'. He dyed his hair, got some tattoos, and a new reputation as the school badass.
He was a cocky bastard most of the time, so much so that Demyx often wondered why they were still hung out. But none the less, they remained best friends and while Demyx couldn't really sympathise with Axel's poor life choices, he could sympathise with having a rather broken family.
It was a fleeting show of compassion form an otherwise uncaring person.
Together they trekked through the halls, Demyx getting more enamoured greetings from people along the way. At one point Axel stopped suspiciously beside a guy with silvery hair and exchanged a bag of something. Demyx just sighed and pretended not to notice.
When they finally reached the lockers Demyx noticed a change in the redhead. He was staring at someone straight ahead. A short spiky haired blonde stood beside the lockers talking to a shy looking girl with black hair. The two teens, who looked to be a couple of years younger, were laughing about something. The girl looked a little flushed as she laughed and then reached out to touch the blonde's hand.
Axel gave a loud cough, with an undertone of something more than irritation.
'Beat it kids, that's my locker.' He huffed and without waiting for a response, shoved the boy out of the way, causing him to stumble back.
The blonde looked shocked for a moment before collecting himself and turning back to his friend.
'You okay, Roxas?' The girl asked.
Roxas nodded, 'I'm fine,' he replied, still a little confused, 'come on Xion, we should get to class.'
The girl nodded quickly in agreement and together they quietly shuffled away.
Demyx turned to his friend as he collected the stuff from his locker, 'That was mean, Axel. You should lay off that poor kid.' He rustled through his books, 'I don't know what your problem with him is.'
Axel ignored his disapproving tone and gave yet another nonchalant shrug.
'He was in the way.' Came the reply and the redhead slammed shut the door of his locker, 'The kids' a brat.'
'Yeah, well you still don't need to-' Demyx stopped. There was some more rustled and the blonde stood up, a frown on his face.
'Axel did you borrow my spanish notes?'
'Nope.'
Demyx's forehead collided with the metal door. 'Fuck.' He'd lost the notes. The notes he'd spent like, a week on. If he didn't scrape a C in this exam, his parents were gonna be pissed.
Axel glanced at his watch and then swung his back over his shoulder, 'Look, I gotta go, class and stuff.' He was already doing a half jog down the corridor, 'I'll see you later.' And within a few seconds he's turned a corner and was gone.
Demyx didn't notice him leave. He was too be thinking about how totally screwed he was. There was no fucking way his parents would let him keep going to practice if he came up with another bad grade.
He did another quick check of his locker before, shuffling through his bag in search of the elusive notes. By now the hall was empty and he could hear teachers beginning lectures in the nearby classrooms.
I should get to class,he thought, reluctantly cutting his search short. He dragged himself away from the lockers and was trailing down the corridor, when a door opened in front of him. A flurry of silver haired rushed out off the bathroom and collided with his chest.
'Oh, sorry, umm...' Demyx slowly trailed off as he looked at the boy in front of him. He must have seen him before, but he couldn't help but stare a little. The shorter teen was dressed in all black with slate-grey hair falling over one eye and the other rimmed in kohl. His face was ghostly pale and he stared at Demyx with a look of horror. They just watched each other for a moment before Demyx tried to break the silence.
'Um, I'm-' He started, but the boy suddenly turned away and began rushing down the corridor. Demyx didn't know what to say, that was surely an odd way to react.
Just before the teen disappeared out of sight, he noticed a blotch of blood on the floor. Was that from him?
'Hey, are you okay?' The blonde looked up, but by now there was no one there. Maybe he's injured, he wondered,I guess he's going to the nurse. Still that was kinda rude running off like that after I apologised.
Then his attention was turned back to the dilemma of his missing notes and how late he was for class. Cursing under his breath, he fixed his hair and went off to class, ready with an apology and charming smile for the teacher.
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Zexion sat in back of his math class, or was it history? He really wasn't paying attention. He'd snuck in late. It didn't matter, nobody had noticed him anyway. Zexion didn't belong to a clique, and as such, he basically didn't exist. Not that it mattered to him, being alone suited him better.
His thought's flitted back and forth as the teacher rambled on about angles, or World War II, or something. His forearms were wet, so much as to be soaking through his sleeves. Fortunately his t-shirt was black, so it wasn't really noticeable, but as he lent on the table he left red smudges on his paper.
Whatever it was that the teacher was talking about, he probably already knew it. He had more important things to think about anyway. Like tonight.
Everything was prepared and the teen felt rather... excited?
Yes, excited. If Zexion had ever felt anything close to excitement, then this was it.
A feeling of satisfaction settled in his stomach and he hummed softly, twisting his neck chain through his fingers. But gradually his thoughts turned to another matter. What would he do after this?
His mind came up blank for a moment and he mentally scowled. He'd find someone else, he never ran out of ideas. In his head, he reeled through an assortment of faces, thinking of what might take his interest. There were always so many choices, and though it was a difficult decision to be made, it was always fun following through. Suddenly his thoughts came to holt, as a mental image seemed to form of it's own accord.
The blonde... the one he'd walked into in the corridor. How awfully silly that was of him, by the way. But anyway, the blonde. Typical jock. Well, aside from that silly hair. Not that he'd have to keep it. His expression softened. It was a possibility... But he was getting ahead of himself, he had a certain brunette to attend to first.
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Well, hope you enjoyed it. The next chapter will be up within a few days. –cough- unlikemyotherfic –cough-
A couple of notes;
- Yes, the school scene with Demyx was supposed to be kinda cheesy and clichéd.
- Zexion's POV is a bit all over the place because he's a bit all over the place, that's just how he thinks.
- Demyx Watera... I think I took that from another fic... Now I need to find a second name for Zexion .
Please R&R ^^ I'd really appreciate it.
