Smeep. This was just something that popped into my head out of the blue last night while I was trying to think up another drabble. It unfortunately, with my thinking bounced off in something much BIGGER. So yeah…I hope you all enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I don't own them. Square Soft got to them first, and because I do not own them- I am forced to make toast EVERY morning for scary people.

Warnings: As usual from me- this fic will most defiantly turn out to be yaoi. Also, this will be more of an alternate universe because it just…has to be that way for this one. As much as I'd love to have a scene with Mickey Mouse kicking ass- this fic is not the place for it. Also- I had to quickly think up last names…just ignore how stupid they are, and feel free to shout out ideas of what could possibly be a better last name for someone named Demyx.

With that said and hopefully understood- let's try moving on.


---- --- ----

What A Wonderful Caricature

Chapter One: The most and least favorite things.

---- --- ----

It was his fault, he was sure of it. He shouldn't have been playing his guitar so loudly, he should have headed the first warning, and perhaps he shouldn't have even bothered getting out of bed that morning. Yes, he thought, that was the true problem- he had gotten out of bed just a few hours ago- and that was why he was on the street, a bag with clothes and some money hanging off his shoulder and he beloved guitar slung on his back. It had only about five minutes of him walking, and already he wanted to rush home and beg his father to let him back in the house. Not that he would have let him do as such with all his lady friends over- and he'd seen the case of beer by his chair on his way storming out the door.

Now that he thought about it, Demyx Aargon got kicked out of the house at least two, maybe three times a month- if he was lucky. It really got to him at first- what with it being his own father that was sending him to the streets and all, but he soon realized that sometimes being outside was a lot better than being in that shitty house. Besides- with him getting the boot so often he knew the town well to be familiar with where was and wasn't a place to cradle his bruises. In that afternoon's fight he'd only made it out with a solid punch to the face, but he had also learned that when you're walking down the sidewalk with spiky hair and a shiner…people don't mess with you, and boy- was he thankful for that.

On more than one occasion did the blonde try and look tough in the mirror…but there was still something about his "fightin' face" that threw it off. He wasn't sure what it was- but then again he really had no intention of using it on anybody. No, when his father literally kicked him out the door he avoided open human contact as much as possible- and usually went to two isolated places: under the bridge or a small cheap café. Both of them weren't too far away from his home, but the bridge came first and it was usually more comforting than the later. Even when he father wasn't being a total ass he'd still make himself a few sandwiches and hang out there for half the day. Sure, there wasn't really a place where he could plug in his guitar, but that didn't mean the thing didn't work.

A smile found its way to his face as he thought of how nice it was to just sit under the bridge on the grass and just play a few tunes. It easily calmed his mind enough to drown out the slurred screams of his father- and after a few hours he'd skoot over to the café and get something to munch on before leaving for home. The man who owned it was one of the nicest people that Demyx had ever met in his life, and after what was surely the worst quarrel between he and his father, he had even let him stay at the café for two days while things calmed down at home. Demyx insisted on helping keep the place up, of course- but that was because he had felt pretty bad about for being around with his face all covered in band-aids and all that wonderful stuff that you would try and explain with a simple: 'I fell.' Yes, Demyx was dumb enough to actually try that on the owner of the café- but he had seen right through it an insisted that he stay for a while.

He'd have to thank him yet again when he got there- and then apologize for still owing him money from the last meal. Maybe he'd luck out and find some money on the way there and be able to pay some of his debt off. The smile returned as he thought of something as simple as that: finding some suitcase on the sidewalk and being able to pay the old man and rent and apartment or something. His smile quickly disappeared, however, when hr realized that he had already walked down the grassy hill to get to the normal spot by the river. Normally that wouldn't be a problem- but then again – normally he wasn't standing in front of what looked to be a very angry group of people.

"Hey! Who the hell are you—and what do you think you're doing here, huh?" one of the boys, a blonde with angry blue eyes that were almost hidden under a black hat was already about five feet in front of him.

'Shit!' his mind screamed as he took a step back. The fact that he was really in trouble was obvious, because another larger boy and a girl were right behind the first. He didn't have to worry about them- he actually forgot about them as his reflexes demanded that he dodge the ringed fist that was quickly making its way towards his face. His hasty movement would have been successful- but halfway his eyes glanced away from the fist due to a distracting color red, and with the same speed they had moved to see what it was that could have been such a color- they closed as he let out a small yelp. Whoever it was who was swinging had gotten him, alright- hard, and right in his already bruising eye. After it registered that he had stumbled and hit the grass, he remembered what it was that had been so red- what preoccupied his thoughts in a snap: hair.

"That's enough."

---- --- ----


Hee. And that's it for now. I have most of the next chapter all typed out and stuff- but there are still a few things that I need to fix up. Forgive it being so short—I promise the next one will be longer.

Anybody interested in my continuing?

Please. Review!