The rating is mature for sexual themes, language, and a bit of blood. The intended pair is Axel X Zexion.

I feel it would also be helpful to note that my writing gets rather sardonic at times.

Things People Don't Talk About

It is hard to define what a nobody is for the sole reason that no one really cares to. Ask a random person on the street to list off how many nobodies they know, and your answer would be mumbled to you hurriedly by a very busy and important person. Your answer would be none.

These people don't notice the nobodies, but the nobodies notice the people. They notice the way their mail always seems to end up in their neighbor's mailbox, how no one seems to remember their name, how often their job applications are ignored, and how people will run into them on the streets, unaware that they existed in that space. They notice how very unimportant they are.

Drastic measures are often taken by this minority, good or bad; it is understandable that these human beings long for compassion.

"I'm glad they've finally accepted my recommendation," Master Ansem courteously rose to give the boy a handshake while casually returning his tie to his neck. "You've been one of our top students; I had absolute faith in you."

Reaching out Zexion flashed a careful smile, "Thank you, sir." The formal touch of their hands gave Zexion yet another spot on his body that absolutely burned. He collected his school bag and the sick feeling that resided in his stomach. "I'll be seeing you next week then, correct?" he inquired from the doorway, hurriedly running his hands through his silver blue hair to tame it.

The older man beamed and nodded. Zexion internally winced and sighed.

Zexion was left to his thoughts on his way back to class. They were merciless and cold. That nagging feeling of guilt and horror pulled at his shoe laces with every step he took and Zexion had only taken thirty seven of the one hundred twenty nine sore steps on the way to his History class.

The unusually short teen distracted himself by reading the official lettering on the envelope in his hands. It was addressed to his parents. They'll just love to hang this on their refrigerator, Zexion smirked, for that was very unlikely to happen. Of course they would be happy about his accomplishment but they kept nothing on their refrigerator. One could easily parallel Zexion's home life to his parent's refrigerator. It was blank and empty with no nostalgia of the wonderful moments a family shares, no recognized achievements, and no tacky magnets.

What that letter would tell them it that their son would soon be off to a bright and thriving future. The campus is beautiful, the food is good, the professors are friendly, but don't you dare ask your son what he had to do to get his name even considered for our prestigious school because deep down you know that he is nothing and is most definitely not worth the dirt the school was build on, and by the way, tuition will be $50,000 a semester; however, that can be fixed if your son makes a few more visits to that nice, sick man who got you this letter in the first place.

In reality, Zexion would never let his parents know what he had to do for his place in the college. As long as he lasted out a few periodic visits to Master Ansem, maintained his grades, and stayed invisible, everything would go as planned. He would be on his way to a real successful future.

It was at this point in his thought process, with "real successful future" echoing in his head, that he stopped at the door to his History class. To be clear here, Zexion had taken up every Advanced Placement class he possibly could. Unfortunately, scheduling conflicts brought on by a mandatory Physical Education class and a limited supply of scheduled classes left Zexion unhappily picking between either an Advanced Placement History or an Advanced Placement Psychology course. He picked the latter of the two, which would be why Zexion reached for the doorknob of his standard-level and least favorite class after he had taken one hundred twenty nine sore steps.

As Zexion walked in he was greeted unusually by his teacher, "Ah, Zoltan, there you are."

"It's Zexion, sir."

"Well, of course, son. I know."

Perhaps it would be better to rephrase that to say 'As Zexion walked in he was greeted unusually by his teacher, because in his case, he was almost never directly greeted in the first place.'

"Now it looks like everyone has gotten into their partners, except for you. Luckily, Alex still needs one-"

The red-headed punk from the back of the room sighed loudly and corrected him, "The name's Axel. A-X-"

"Well, of course, son. I know. Would you look at how perfectly that worked out? Now go sit with your partner, Zorion."

It was close enough, so Zexion handed the professor his hall pass and made his way over to the burnout as the professor encouraged the other students to 'use class time wisely' before retreating to his own desk. Upon sitting, the other teen shoved a large packet titled Final Project and Partnered Assessment.

Zexion peered at the misfit before him. He recalled something he heard about him, hadn't he tried to burn down the Math Wing of the school? He frowned at his fellow nobody. That's what they were, no one knew their names or why they walked this planet.

Zexion examined the redhead further and came up with nothing. He saw a mass of black clothes, chains, and disheveled spiked red hair, but no potential, no future.

His gaze raked over his parallel again. He didn't want to accept this. Not only would working with this guy be hell, but knowing they were matching nobodies was disturbing to him.

The redhead leaned back in his chair with a creak of old wood and stuck his feet up on the table causing Zexion to burst.

"Excuse me."
The other nobody cocked his head to the side and raised a thin eyebrow.

"What is your name?" was all Zexion could say with his calmest voice.

"Axel," he supplied.

"As in the wheel and-?"

"Yeah. A-X-E-L. Got it memorized?" the nobody snapped and turned his attention back to the ceiling.

Zexion's face was as stern as ever while he drew out a long silence. Yes, it was

obvious that this guy wasn't going to be easy to break. He turned to flip open the packet of instructions, upon reading the outline of what their final project should include, he broke into a cold sweat. They would have to conduct an interview with a local history expert, create an oral presentation, along with a complete summative.

There would be no way that Zexion would let a nobody make his life harder. All Zexion needed was a 'game plan' so to speak. Slowly but surely, bit by bit, he would reduce his work load to a tolerable level.

There would be a day when the work would be distributed evenly, Axel would do his part, their grade would be passable, and Axel would never have to speak to him again afterwards. There would be a day when Zexion's professors remembered his name without awkwardly checking the attendance list. And there would be a day Zexion would have his bright and thriving future.

But for now, he devoted his time to reading the extensive instructions.

Yeah, Zexion's existence is rather sad at this point.

I feel the start is slow, but I have some serious intentions for some fun stuff to happen. Please enjoy my first fic! This newbie would really appreciated any criticism from reviews . ^_^