Zexion was tired. Well, not tired, per se, but groggy. He wasn't a morning person. Well, sometimes he was, but that was only when he spent the whole night awake and therefore was not dampened by the sense of grogginess that assumed position within his head every morning after being awoken by the morning bell. Oh, how he hated that morning bell. Oh, how he wished that morning bell would just drop dead, but not before suffering from an eternity of rust. Of course, that eternity would have already happened before he had joined (formed, whatever!) the Organization.
To put things in a more understandable sense, Zexion needed his coffee in order to act like the brilliant, reasonable, and certainly not random Nobody we all know and love. Well, not love, exactly, more like fear and respect. Or something.
So there he was, sitting in his seat at the table from which the Organization members feasted (upon the flesh of the living! Not really), clutching a cup of coffee in his hands. What did this cup look like? Well, it was a nice shade of lilac that matched his hair perfectly (except the cup wasn't emo) and had blue words on it. What were the words? "Number One Grandma." Zexion liked to go yard-saling on the Saturdays he got off.
By that time in the morning, only a few of the members were not at the table. Larxene wasn't there, but that was understandable; saying good morning to one's knife collection was essential. Marluxia wasn't there, but that too was understandable; he had to be sure that his hair was THE best out of all the other members' (however, Zexion had to disagree; lilac was better than a dirty pink any day). But Demyx wasn't there. That was semi-understandable. There were several reasonable explanations for why Demyx was not stuffing his mouth with various types of breakfast food, one of course being the practicing of his gui—sitar. The practicing of his sitar, which is in no way a guitar. Another explanation would have been that he slept in. But that wasn't nearly as excusable.
The lilac haired male (whose hair was parted and cut so it covered the right fifty percent of his face, making it decidedly and stylishly emo) had just taken a sip (large, tongue-burning, throat-smoldering gulp) of his special French vanilla roast (he was very precise when it came to his morning caffeine dosage) when the sitarist bounded very happily into the dining area.
"Hello and good morning my peoples!" he greeted, his grammar very screwed indeed. Demyx had chosen this day to completely ignore the dress code, and went all out with his attire; a bright blue shirt and black pants that both looked too tight to be legal in the state of Alabama (nearly as illegal as a male publicly wearing a strapless gown in Miami), and a lovely pair of orange fishnet gloves. To say it looked absolutely fabulous would be half wrong; wrong, in the sense that it completely destroyed all laws of fashion, and right in the sense that it was very fabulous indeed (fabulous being stereotypically a gay word). So, summing it all up, Demy-kins looked very (enticingly, to the point of view of a certain lilacly emo-behaired member at the table, who oh so conveniently was too groggy to be in denial) gay.
Thus explaining why the certain lilacly emo-behaired member suddenly stood up and, in all his proud Nobody glory, sang,
"Hey Demy, you so fine, you so fine you blow my mind. Hey Demy, 'ey, 'ey, hey Demy!"
Thus also explaining the sudden dead silence that followed like a love-sick puppy does to its crush; very, very, closely.
Why did the dead silence fall so quickly? Well it certainly wasn't because the lilac emo-behaired member (whose name is Zexion, got it memorized?) sang like some sick walrus with nasal congestion; in fact, he had quite a lovely voice. Was it because of the song he had sung? Possibly. Was it because of the song he had sung, at the person who he had sung it to? Most definitely.
Because if there was one thing more definite than the fact that Nobodies didn't have hearts, was the fact that Zexion did not sing twisted love songs at Demyx. It just wasn't done.
And so Zexion, the poor confused what-ever-the-hell-he-is (be it preteen, teen, young adult, adult, or creepy old stalker-man), looked around a bit after his sudden coffee slash Demyx induced singing, before looking down at his coffee, muttering, "No more coffee for me," and walking off, most like to his room to get more sleep, or read.
This sudden (seemingly random) outburst from one of the quietest members left the rest of the Organization in a bit of a confused mess. Xemnas sat at his chair, wondering if he should reprimand Zexion with one of his pre-rehearsed lectures about them being Nobodies, and having no hearts, then realizing that the effect would be very minimal seeing as the lilac haired male had said 'mind' not 'heart.' Xigbar was grinning evilly to himself, thinking of the seemingly endless amounts of taunts he could get from this experience. Xaldin was thinking of way to keep Xigbar in line. Vexen was obsessing over one of the new chemical reactions he discovered (Xigbar kept saying that he was sexually aroused by it, but the Chilly Academic would say that he only got a hard-on because he was thinking of pretty women with large breasts; no one believed him). Lexaeus…well, we don't exactly know what he was thinking, but it was probably somewhere along the lines of…Zexion is crazy, and needs some serious therapy. Saix was thinking of various ways to kiss up to Xemnas. Axel…you don't want to know what Axel was thinking, but it was about Roxas, and involved chocolate syrup. Luxord was sorting out the chances of Zexion getting laid later that night, and was being further confused by seeing no negative nor positive reaction on Demyx's face. Larxene was thinking…well, she wasn't there. Nor was Marluxia. But Roxas was, and he was trying to avoid the looks Axel was sending him.
The only thing going through Demyx's mind while he stuffed pancake in his mouth was that Zexion's voice was nice, but it'd sound better alongside a sitar. His sitar, preferably, because we all know how many sitarists there are in the Organization.
One.
And that was him.
Oh yes, such tough competition.
But what was Zexion thinking at that moment? Well, it was hard to tell, but as the lilac-haired man walked hastily down the dull hallways of the Organization's residence, the one thought that was resounding throughout his mind was, "I either need more sleep, or to stop sleeping in the first place." Why? Because he pinned this little…experience on being far too groggy to think.
Did it ever occur to him that Vexen might have added a little chemical mixture to his coffee that caused him to burst into song whenever he saw his true love?
No.
Because that story is for hopeless paranoid romantics who have no love-life to speak of and feel the need to make up their own.
They're pathetic.
The author-ess has issues that she needs to assess with a psychologist. Or a psychiatrist. But not a therapist. Because she says so.
The author-ess was in no way referring to herself in the second to last statement in the story. Nope. No way. Huh-uh. Cha.
This is the first part in a three-shot. Why? Because the author-ess is bored and needs something to fill up the six hours between now and seven am, when she's supposed to be getting up to walk.
Being the nice author-ess she is, she does not feel the need to tell the readers how the story came to mind. So, what with the story being prewritten, once the author-ess gets … four reviews, she will post the next chapter. Four more reviews (thus equaling eight in total) will get ya the last chapter.
Savvy?
Kingdom Hearts is not the author-ess'. Zexion is Demyx's, and Demyx is Zexion's. The author-ess has no clue who owns "Hey Mickey" so whoever sings it owns it. Not her. Yaaaahh……