Hello, perverts!

Juuuust kidding.. kind of.. (:

This is my first fic since 2011, so forgive me if I seem a bit rusty. As always, critical feedback is extremely helpful! This isn't too long of a chapter, but I already have the plot of the second spinning around in my head, so it'll only be a matter of time.

So, if you could, just drop a little comment and let me know what you think thus far!

NOTES: For this, Ventus and Roxas are early twenties (just felt like letting you know ahead of time). Their characters are two that, I've noticed, have very different FanFiction personalities compared to their canon ones. Maybe I'm wrong, but both of them felt very determined and preservation-driven in the games, with - of course - compassion for their beloveds. In this community, I feel as though they're both made very complacent and.. well.. stereotypically uke-ish.

I dunno, maybe I'm way off base. Anyhow, my interpretation of the two in a more mature age is a bit more bold, so I hope you enjoy!

"Hey blondie! Are there any ears underneath that bird's nest on your hollow head? I said, collate and fax the 420K data to everyone in Finances NOW."

A pained expression splatters across my face. "Yes, Mr. Squall sir, my apologies! I'll get right on it!" I choke out from behind a forced, apologetic half-smile.

"That's Mr. Leonhart to you, you dingus. And don't use contractions here, it's improper."

I can feel a prominent vein threatening to burst near the edge of my forehead. "Of course, Mr. Leonhart. Thank you for the advice." I don't know how I managed to form that coherent of a reply while I simultaneously counted the number of "improper" contractions my supervisor used in the last 45 seconds.

"It wasn't advice, you spaz. It was an order." And one more.

Without waiting for me to dish out another blatantly artificial response, Squall Leonhart turned on his heel, toothpick dangling from his bottom lip, and disappeared around the bend of my cubicle.

Before I even had time to fully scrunch my nose in disgust, a bright red porcupine popped into my personal bubble. "Hey, knuckle head. Heard the boss-man givin' you another hard time. Listen, try not to take it so hard... I hear he's much more of a douchehole to your spacey bro. Take that to mean that you are not only more apt at pleasing the head honcho, but also much sexier than Ven." The sickening sparkle coming from those freakish emerald eyes was dimmed as Axel fluttered his eyelids lower and lower as his speech turned from peppy to seductive. My nose finally had time to completely wrinkle,

"I don't know which disgusts me more: the fact that you smell like my brother's ball sack or that such a moronic come-on could sway Roxas so easily. Bottom line: I hate you, Axel." I spun around in my swivel chair, blew a stray clump of bangs out of my eyes, and continued mindlessly pounding away at my stale, 1998 keyboard.

"Aw, geez! You two need to start wearing respective colors or something, I can't take getting so close to you!" Axel exaggeratedly threw his arms up and draped them crisscross over one another, huffing as he finished his theatrics. "I mean seriously, have you two ever considered nametags?"

"Get the hell out of here."

No doubt rolling his eyes and scowling in my direction, Axel took his leave. No sooner had he stepped out of my box did my archaic desk phone ring.

"Seventh floor Data Management, this is Ventus speaking, how may I-"

"This is Rinoa in Accounting, and we're going to need the income totals for all Executive employees over the last 16 months before tomorrow's budgetary meeting – preferably in Microsoft Access format."

"CLICK"

My eyes glazed over in disbelief as the fossil in my hands polluted my cubicle with horrific, wailing beeps.

I gingerly set the phone back onto the base, staring blankly at the ancient monitor in front of me. I doubted this stupid thing even had Microsoft Office, much less Access. All my work thus far had been done on some old-timey notepad program.

I let out a slow breath from my nostrils as I squeezed my eyes shut, letting my index fingers prod and rub away at my throbbing temples.

I think it's pretty obvious that I hate my job.

"If there are no other matters that need to be addressed tonight, I'd say we can call this one a night, folks."

The white noise of my coworkers erupting into small talk reverberated in my skull, and I could feel a migraine coming on full-force.

"Strife! Come see me, please." My manager beckoned for me from the head of the table. I gathered my papers and made my way hastily to his side. "You finish what I asked?" his deep chestnut eyes drilled into mine. It wasn't really a question so much as an exclamation that he expected to be true.

"Yes, sir. They have been sent out as you requested to the respective parties." Kill me now, just being around him was making my brain lash out against the confines of my head.

"Huh. Well alrighty then. Go home, or go wherever it is you go at night." He said this while he tidied his area and curtly left my presence. I swear, I just felt my eye twitch.

I sighed despondently but quietly, coming to terms with the fact that I still had to get started on that damned income project before I could even think about going home… or wherever I go at night.

Holding my ragged briefcase with one hand and massaging the area just above my right eyebrow with the other, I make my way towards the pristine glass doors that free me from one nightmare, only to lead me to another.

"Ven! Phew, I thought Axel may have been kidding when he told me you were up here. You know how his sense of humor is." An unkempt head of dirty blonde hair bounced into my line of vision then skidded to a stop in front of me. There, in all his sexual glory, stood my twin brother, Roxas. "You wanna hit up a bar or two on our way home? That is, if you aren't too tiiiired." The emphasis on the word 'tired' acted as a long, sterdy needle, piercing through my skin and stabbing all the way through my muddy brain.

"Sometimes, Rox, I genuinely think you have it out for me…" I furrowed my brow and cupped my own cheek, wallowing in the agony of my headache as Roxas just peeked at me with one eye, the other being closed in disinterest. "…and sometimes, I just have to remind myself that you're as big of an asshole as I am." I sighed once more.

"Oh, Ven, I knew you understood me." Roxas squinted his eyes in approval as he smirked my way. I'm pretty sure our use of sarcasm with one another is unparalleled by any other pair of humans in history. Honestly.

"Anyways, I won't be heading home until real late – you'll probably already be ass deep in Axel's tongue." Roxas grinned sincerely.

"Aww, why not, bro? Mean ol' Squall givin' you a buttload?"

I chuckled, genuinely for the first time all day. "I love you word choice, baby bro."

"For the last time, three minutes does not constitute as an age gap, you idiot." Roxas glared at me, putting on his best tough-guy routine.

"Whatever. And no, not Squall… not this time, anyways. Rinoa. The usual dump truck from her."

"Ah. Squall's bitch. Well, fear not, dearest brother. I'll be sure to have some ramen waiting for you when you get home." Roxas loosened up his expression and smiled softly at me. I returned the gesture, grateful that I still had one tether to maintaining my sanity.

"Thanks, bro."

Roxas slid his smile to the side, patted me on the shoulder, and took his leave. Letting out one final puff from my nose, I headed back to the seventh floor, eager to dig in to my brother's savory ramen and to burrow into my heavenly bed.

In the bottom right corner of my obsolete screen "2:21 AM" flashed out prominently, as though it were mocking me and rejoicing over my sorrow. I could feel the array of numerical values on the spreadsheet burning into my retinas, threatening to permanently stain my eyeballs. I only had four more months to go. I was twelve-sixteenths there… Err, six-tenths… Oh, great. Basic math was becoming arduous for me. I blinked, for what felt like the first time in hours, as my saucer-sized eyes soaked in the radiance of the monitor.

Popping my knuckles, I began pumping out row after row of incomprehensible symbols. At this point, Rinoa would be lucky if this thing was even in English.

As I paused to scan over the last few entries, a faint tapping echoed from down the deserted hallway. Reacting quickly, I spun around in my chair and perked my ears, straining to hear. Again, a distant pecking drifted towards me.

Now, I was always known as the more rational of the twins. I was able to keep a level head when Roxas would panic and act on instinct. Horror movies, dangerous situations, even day-to-day activities that proved to be exciting could weaken Roxas' logical side. Fortunately, I never had this problem.

…Except when it was a few hours before dawn, in a seemingly vacant business complex, with my senses being dulled from exhaustion.

The tapping – which soon turned to pounding – continued, and I shakily rose from my seat and inched towards the hall. The noise sounded like something dull striking glass, but not with enough intentional force to shatter it. That must mean… knocking?

As my imagination played out all the possibilities of causations for the beating sound, a sudden crash sounded somewhere to my right. The workspace surrounding the noise was filled with printers and copy machines, items I had no current use for, so I had left the lights off there. Of course.

The crash startled me, and my eyes bulged as I searched the darkness for any indicative clues. I was sure I heard a thunk behind me, so I swiveled suddenly to check my surroundings. In my foggy, fearful state, I continued stepping cautiously backwards towards the original crash as I scanned the adjacent lobbies.

I was fairly certain there was nothing suspicious in that direction, and as I was readying to turn back to the opposite direction, I met with a malleable wall and bumped away from the object with a very unmanly, "EEEK".

The wall also let out a sharp cry as it ricocheted away from me, which is probably when I started doubting my categorization of the object in question.

I scurried off the floor, gathered courage I never knew existed, and raised my arms into some awkward sort of offensive stance. "Wait! I'm not a burglar or some shit like that! Relax, dude!"

A man, several inches taller and vastly more muscular than me, stepped from the shadows of the machines. His hair, unruly and disheveled, fell in groups over his tanned face, briefly wafting over his two metallic eyes. He was dressed in a black button-up dress shirt, dark jeans, and a distinctive pair of shiny black dress shoes. My confusion was obviously evident on my face, as he questioned my prolonged visual investigation. "Something on my face? …or, my crotch?" he spat indignantly. Huh. Just as I was beginning to suspect I'd stumbled upon a decent human being in this hellhole.

I frowned at his sudden crudeness, but definitely noted his impressive physique. "I was just curious about your wardrobe." I felt the need to explain myself, covering up for my uncharacteristic gawking, quite frankly.

"Tsk. How was I supposed to know what sort of crap you wear when you're meeting hotshots like you?" the stranger crossed his arms and relaxed his posture, giving me a once over. I've got to say, I don't think my khaki slacks and white polo really gave me the air of being a corporate "hotshot".

"Let me get this straight: you're here to meet with a manager of some sort? At… two in the morning?" I scrunched my eyes in skepticism.

"Hey, you want my whole life story, or what? Listen, can you just point me in the direction of Squall Leonhart's office already?" He added a hint of impatience to his tone that I really didn't care for.

"You listen to me, "dude": you just broke into a privately-owned building in the dead of night, with the intention of finding the head honcho's office, and you're expecting me to just play along?" I stepped slightly away from the guy, straightening my head and dropping my shoulders. He was definitely bigger than me, but I could still try to put up a fight.

"Hey, pint-sized, I'll tell you what," he smirked at my change in pose, "I'll just give this dumb thing to you and you can hand it over to the big guy yourself." When he finished, he chucked the manila folder in his hands over to me, and I instinctively caught it without breaking eye contact. He chuckled, a deep, resonating chuckle, with a drop of amusement in his strange eyes. "Thanks a bunch, sweetheart." With that, the anonymous intruder proceeded past me and to the nearby stairwell. A distinctive crisp scent lingered seconds later.

Slowed once more by my fatigue I zoned out with the folder in my hands and my eyes glued to the space previously occupied by the enticing shadowy figure. Lazily, I sagged my head down to make sense of the letters jumbled on the front of the folder. Eventually, my sluggish mind decoded the gibberish: "Vanitas Leonhart – Data Management Internship Application".

Cocking my head very slightly to the side, I made sense of the words. Opening the cover, I scanned through the pages of tedious contract jargon. Finally, on the last page of the packet, the two words were stamped in bright green ink. These two words would prove to be the catalyst to my tragic downfall, the spark that set my casket ablaze.

"INTERNSHIP GRANTED"