Dear Valentines,
I dreamed of the Professor again. He was singing, horribly, at the top of his lungs, with a dozen red, long-stem roses in his hands. He was waltzing around his library all by himself. I remember that being my favourite room of his house: towering rows of thick, old, leather bound books, worn and soft with age. His cats were always in the large, cushioned bay window seat, lounging in the afternoon sun.
It had been a horrible day for me, packing up the remnants of my dorm whilst scrambling about to get to my exams on time. The following day was graduation and I had to be ready by then to vacant my dorm. Luxord, my dormmate and now bandmate, had been completely unhelpful because of a massive hangover.
When I got to the Professor's I was exhausted both physically and mentally, and all I wanted was food and a warm bed. What I got was a dancing Professor of Arthurian literature singing completely off key. Typically not a good idea when you're dating someone who will be receiving his BA in Music the next day.
I yelled.
He got down on his knee.
Not to say the sex afterwards wasn't phenomenal—oh, god, it was—but I was on a plane the next day. I didn't even go to my graduation ceremony.
Demyx sighed and tossed his journal down on the chair beside him. It was late. He looked out the window. Scratch that, it was really damn early. How many lonely sun rises had he unintentionally stayed up to see over the years?
Getting up, he stretched his long, stiff muscles, groaning softly, and then stripped out of his clothes. He should try to sleep a little; the tour bus was always too obnoxious. Demyx walked across the cold wood floor and slipped into the bed beside Luxord. He had been sharing a bed with his best friend for seven years, but never once did either one of them consider anything more. Luxord loved women too much and Demyx just hated spending more money than necessary—sharing beds in hotel rooms was cheaper.
Rolling onto his stomach, Demyx wondered what happened to the Professor after he left. He had disconnected his email and phone, left all networking sites, and even changed his gaming accounts. It was a hard cut, but it was for the best.
Demyx had wanted to tour the world playing music, and even though the Professor had said he'd willingly drop everything and come with, Demyx knew he would have been miserable. The band life was a lonely life. You could only depend on your bandmates to be there for you and Demyx hadn't been ready to be the Professor's everything. Hell, he was only twenty-three at the time!
"Luv, yer making some strange noises over t'air. You alright?" Luxord mumbled into his pillow.
"Yeah, fine." Demyx frowned and closed his eyes.
