Disclaimer:

I own an Axel pin. Not a plushie, a PIN. As in 'a piece of metal that has Axel's face placed on it and that I sometimes wear on my hip, even though the errant pin sometimes stabs through my jeans and into my thigh.' But other than that? Yeah, not much else.

Special Dedication:

Dubious.Mischief.Maker and Sakueishi, who read my ficsand have admitted to have LOL'd over them. Oh, yeah, and The Birdfox Hybrid Productions and CloverFromMars , whose Hayner fics have inspired mine and pwn mine, by like, a lot.

Author's Note:

This is what happens when I consume three cups of coffee (each with six packets of sugar--Yes, yes, I am well aware that I am on my way to becoming a diabetic, as my friends inform me every day), one Mocha flavored Moo-Latte, courtesy of Dairy Queen, and of course, a staggering amount of candy. Unsurprisingly, you won't sleep very well (if at all) after eating these. Hence, this fic.

...That's probably, like, the worst excuse ever, but yeah. You guys know what I'm talking about.

Wake up, think fast

Three weeks have passed

We are changing

-The Academy Is..., "Season"

Artificial Sweetener

or

Not Tonight, Josephine

Chapter 01: Anger Management

Just in case someone's told you different, I was the one who noticed something was wrong with Olette first. Pence, for all his knowledge, wasn't aware of jack, and Roxas, who is supposed to be the most sensitive out of all of us, was too concerned with his own girlfriend to pay much attention to anyone else. As I'm not quite so preoccupied with grades or girlfriends, (I'm gay. "Hahahaha, Hayner's a FAGGOT." Got it out of your system now? Good. Now shut the hell up before I beat you.) it was up to me to notice that something was Not Quite Right with Olette Larsen.

But seriously, I don't know how they missed it. Olette was going nuts; she flipped out at random intervals, spazzing about crap that wasn't even relevant. Take this scene from a week ago:

"What did you say, Hayner? Did you say something? I must have missed it. Say it again."

"Uh. No thanks, I'll pass."

"No, go ahead. I won't be mad."

"Um…'shut up, 'Lette, you're giving me a-SHIT, WOMAN, THAT'S MY EYE!!"

So, when Olette appeared in the cafeteria to tell us that she'd organized a meeting at my house (news to me), I knew better than to rush home and bar the door, as had been my first reaction.

"Okay." I say. Like I had a choice. She would've beaten me to death with her Hello Kitty pencil case if I'd said otherwise, and my eye was still swollen from last week. Pence nodded his agreement, but Roxas was the only one who had the guts (or stupidity) to question it.

"Why?"

Olette fidgeted, and for a second, she was back to being Cute Olette, the one I'd been friends with for years. She pulled at the hem of her bright orange shirt and shuffled her feet a couple of times.

"Because I need you guys." she mumbles in this small voice, as if she didn't want to admit it aloud. Olette tends to do this from time to time-she pulls this cutesy act where she shuffles her feet and worries her bottom lip. Once she looks up at us through her eyelashes, it's all over.

"I have things to do." I say. Lie. Unless I intended to do my Algebra II homework, which I didn't. I'd pay Pence to do it for me.

"Please?" Olette says softly, looking at us from beneath her thick eyelashes. One glance from those big green eyes, and me and Pence are putty in her hands.

"We're here for you." Pence goes, patting her folded hands. I'm not too good at emotional stuff ('gay' does not mean 'sap', in any shape or form.) so I just nod at her.

It's a real Dr. Phil moment until Roxas decides to boost his stupidity quotient by 50 by saying, "Hey, can I bring Larxene?"

For those who haven't met Larxene Davies, you are very, very blessed people. She's, okay, gorgeous, smart, and pretty rich from what Roxas has told me, but she also happens to be a crazy bitch. She also has a sister complex, the object of which would be Namine Davies, her younger half-sister. Loads of guys are interested in Larxene, but for some reason she's dating Roxas…General Honors, boy-band-pretty, middle class Roxas Marceaux. Oh, excuse me; she's dating Roxas when she isn't fucking that retarded photographer named Axel McQueen who calls himself "Roxas's best friend". This is a huge lie. I am Roxas's best friend. Not Axel. ME.

Anyways, Larxene Davies is a vicious hoe, and I hope her heels snap in half.

Pence is staring at Roxas like he's sprouted horns from those blonde spikes of his. Olette fixes Roxas with a stare so cold; I swear I can see icicles growing on his up-turned nose.

"I'd rather you kept Larxene out of it. It'd be better if it was just the four of us." Olette replies, her flashing eyes signifying that Roxas will leave his woman at her mansion, or with Axel the Photographer, or he will find himself missing several vital organs. Roxas takes the hint and gives us a hasty farewell. Even from our seats, we can see him meeting and kissing his "I-play-hooky-'cause-my-daddy-practically-owns-the-school" girlfriend hello.

Olette snorts. " 'Can I bring Larxene'? Ooohhh, yes, Roxas—bring your stupid girlfriend who made me cry in third grade! Bring her so I can stuff my TI-84 down her throat! Bah!" She stabs angrily at her pizza before pushing across the table to Pence, who looks like he just might wet his pants with fear.

"I don't want this." she practically snarls, getting up. She picks up her satchel and obnoxiously girly binder, rushing out of the cafeteria without saying goodbye.

"She's quite terrifying." Pence observes, tearing off some of Olette's mutilated mushroom pizza and handing it to me.

"You got that right."

Yeah, we were all starting to guess that Olette was having some kind of trouble.

We just didn't know how big.

Author's Note: For those who were wondering (i.e, no one) I am not discontinuing Euthanasia, my RikuRoku story. This is just a lovely break from the serious angst I am putting out for that lovevly fic. I'm actually finished with it, I just have yet to post it.

Anyways.

Would it kill you to review? Why, no, it would not. As much as I love being notified that people -gasp- like my writing enough to put me on Author alert, Story alert, or their Favorites list, it'd be nice to have some feedback, too. LIKE A PM. OR, YOU KNOW, A REVIEW.

(It always comes back to the reviews.)

I'd lie and say it doesn't matter, 'cause gosh, I'm just happy that you're even reading this, but. Yeah. No. I am a greedy person.