The Artemis Complex
AN: Thanks for the review! No, he's not anorexic, just busy enough that he forgets sometimes. Sorry for the confusion! Please also keep in mind during this chapter that Artemis is seventeen. He has spent most of this time sulking his way through St. Bartleby's or holed up in his room. Obviously, his personality will be a bit different than it was.
Sorry if Juliet is OoC. I can't remember what she was like.
Chapter 1…
"Damn," Juliet mutters once inside the school grounds, glaring at the key to her dorm, "Figures they'd split us up."
"Well, they can't have women in the men's dorm, now, can they?" Artemis scowls. Juliet laughs.
"So he has a sense of humor!" she teases, "But the separated dorms sure as hell do make my job harder."
"I hope you aren't planning to keep surveillance on me from your room."
"Hey, now there's an idea!"
Artemis grumbles. "You're welcome. Remind me to keep my blinds shut."
Juliet laughs again; "Right, whatever you say, Arty. Want me to carry your stuff up to your room for you?"
"It's Artemis," the teen corrects, "No, thank you. I think I'll manage my affects myself."
"You sure?" Juliet asks, watching her pale patron lift his suitcase.
"It's not heavy," Artemis states simply and walks off, glad to be rid of his all-too-informal body guard. His room is situated on the third floor of one of the two wings that face each other across the courtyard where he and Juliet had just been standing, or rather, bickering in a friendly manner. On the east are the boys' dorms- where Artemis is- and the girls' on the West, where he's sure Juliet has already located her room.
He unlocks his room and let himself in. It is the same as he left it the year before, spartanly furnished and a tad dusty in places. There exists a bed, a dresser, a desk, a bookshelf, and a mesh-wire trashcan. The first task in order for Artemis is to stride across the room and shut the open blinds to prying eyes, not to mention Juliet. Enough light still filters in that he decides to unpack without turning on the fluorescent overhead lights.
There isn't much to be unpacked, as Artemis is one who prefers to travel lightly. Just a few outfits- three school uniforms to alternate through the week before getting washed, one extra pair of shoes, a jacket for winter, and the other necessities such as socks and underwear and ties (yes, ties are a necessity)- must be transferred to the dresser. Then his electronics- his computer, now equipped with fairy technology and utterly un-hack-able, his earpiece radio, to contact Haven with, also fairy technology, and a few other items- are withdrawn from the bag and arranged on his desk. After a moment of deliberation, he moves some of the fairy technology- the earpiece and another one or two gadgets- to a drawer with a lock.
Flipping the key to locked position, he pulls it out and pockets it.
For as long as he can, Artemis puts off changing into the stiff, not-quite-the-right-fit St. Bartleby's uniform. As is customary, there will be a welcoming seminar for the incoming students, and all alumni are required to attend. Students of Artemis' type even more so.
Eventually he sighs and changes, hating the just-a-shade-or-two-too-bright-to-be-navy-blue blazer and the stiff, itchy slacks that are just a little too tight in areas he's rather they weren't, and just a little to loose in others where he'd rather they were snug. Most students wear a regular white T-shirt underneath the blazer, but Artemis carefully buttons up his black dress shirt, tucks it into his pants, then fastens the blazer shut with its two, engraved, brass buttons. A matching not-quite-navy-blue tie finishes the look, and he's ready to sit through the most boring two hours of his life.
-
The assembly lasts longer than Artemis had anticipated. The amount of transfer students this year that must be personally introduced and give short speeches is unheard of, pushing the meet-and-greet twenty minutes over the scheduled time.
In the meanwhile, Artemis valiantly remains still in his seat, even as his ill-fitted uniform makes his shoulders itch (he tried rolling them once, but that made it worse). Juliet is last to go, and she smirks directly at Artemis, aware he is uncomfortable, bored, and ready to flee, while she gives the longest speech yet. Artemis decides that this means a cut in her paycheck, but when she's finally finished and the principal dismisses them, he decides that it's not worth the trouble.
Back at his room, there is a surprise waiting for him.
"Who are you?" he asks, eyes narrowed.
"I could ask you the same," the boy tosses over his shoulder, finally happening across a drawer in the dresser that isn't occupied by Artemis's clothes. He unceremoniously dumps all of his into it and closes it with a foot. He turns to face Artemis, unevenly cut hair, some parts shoulder-length, some parts shorter, some parts even longer, all of which is layered, damp and clinging to his forehead and neck. He wipes the strands away, other hand settling on his cocked hip.
He's not in uniform, and Artemis quirks a brow.
"But I won't," he continues, returning to his suitcase, open on Artemis's bed, right next to Artemis's own suitcase. He doesn't seem bothered by the fact that the bed has obviously already been claimed, and Artemis watches a little bewilderedly as the boy produces more than one pair of shoes and tosses them lackadaisically into a nook between the dresser and the wall.
"I'm Yuka," the intruder finally says, turning again to face Artemis.
"Yuka," Artemis repeats, "A pleasure, I'm sure-" he glances at the pile of shoes in the corner- "Artemis Fowl. What are you doing in my room?"
"What am I doing in your room?" Yuka laughs, "What are you saying? It's my room, too."
"What?" Artemis's eyes widen from their narrowed state.
"Bit slow on the uptake?" Yuka laughs, tucking a bit of shorter hair behind an ear. Moments later, it falls out again, brushing across his cheek.
"Not at all," Artemis grinds out, "Just a bit flummoxed that I have been assigned a roommate. My family pays extra to ensure that I have my own room."
"Oh, a rich snob," Yuka rolls his eyes, turning back to kick a few shoes that have fallen out back into their nook, "Fantastic. I think I'm the one who's going to have a hard time of this, not you, kiddo."
"Kiddo?" Artemis repeats, "You have got to be kidding me. You're the freshman here, not me. I'm seventeen, a senior, which most definitely makes me your upperclassman. I demand respect."
Artemis spends so much time in seclusion; he doesn't know how to deal with people, especially not someone like this Yuka, who is, as far as Artemis can tell, adept with stinging words and quick retorts. Yuka's laughing, at the moment.
"Upperclassman? I'm nineteen- don't give me that look, it's just an issue of where my birthday falls in the year- making me the upperclassman. I should be the one demanding respect."
Artemis scowls. "How can you be in my grade, and I've never met you before?" he asks instead of continuing the respect battle which he is losing.
"I'm a transfer," Yuka explains, "From Japan, incase you couldn't tell by my name."
Artemis doesn't have a snappy retort for that second part- he doesn't talk to many people, so he doesn't know much about recognizing names, and Japanese is one of the few languages he has not yet taught himself (though he knows he should, considering Japan is a technological world giant). He does have a comment for the former, however; "If you're a transfer student, why didn't I see you at the assembly?"
"Assembly?" Yuka asks, looking at Artemis over his shoulder, "Oh, that thing. Stupid. Like I want to get up there in front of an entire student body and talk about myself. It's not as if they want to hear it, anyways."
Artemis chuckles, despite himself.
"If only the other transfer students could have that kind of mentality," he says melancholically. Yuka nods, and they lapse into silence while Yuka continues to bustle about the room, moving and misplacing the few objects Artemis has brought in. Artemis realizes now that the window is open, and closes it, surveying Yuka's work in the room.
It's more of what Artemis would call destruction, or perhaps an explosion. An uncontrollable force.
Slowly, the room is becoming colorful with cups of multi-colored pencils and stacks of jewel-cased CDs, a radio, an alarm clock, one or two hats, different spectacles, and jewelry strewn about. Eventually, Yuka closes his empty suitcase and fits it into the bottom shelf of the bookcase. Without asking, he adds Artemis' to the spot, as well.
"There's only one bed," Artemis finally spoke up, unsure of the new colors and arrangement of objects in his room. Yuka shrugs.
"Yours for the taking," he says, "Don't worry about it."
"Where will you sleep?" Artemis asks, more out of polite curiosity than in objection to taking the bed. He'd been planning to claim it as his and hash it out with the newcomer anyways if Yuka had voiced any objections.
"Are you deaf?" Yuka raises a thin, well-formed eyebrow that Artemis finally notes is pierced. "I said don't worry about it."
Artemis scowls at the jab. "I think it's obvious that I'm not deaf."
"Oh, touché," Yuka whistles, ruffling Artemis's hair as he passes the boy; "I'm going to go hang out in the courtyard."
"In that outfit?" Artemis inquires, making a face as he smoothes out his tousled hair. Yuka is dressed in tight black pants, buckled engraved silver belt, a tight black tank, and a patterned jacket that his arms are pulled through, but is not on his shoulders. Yuka gives him a look.
"Why not?" he asks, "It's not school hours right now. I can wear whatever I want."
"Still," Artemis begins, then sighs and shakes his head. "Never mind, it's true. Go on, then; get out."
Yuka laughs.
"Oh yeah, and by the way," he tosses over his shoulder as the door closes behind him, "You look like a moron in that uniform."
Artemis glares at the shut door, listening to Yuka laugh his way down the hall.
What do you think of my OC, Yuka? How is Artemis' personality; I didn't screw him up too badly, did I?
Please R&R.
Flames will be taken with a grain salt, then used to burn that disgusting uniform.