A/N: Hello again! First of all, thank you to the lovely few who faved/followed/reviewed. It means so much to me. ; w ; Anyway, here's the second chapter. It's a bit shorter than the first, hope that's okay. Please enjoy, you delightful people.

PS oh my god KH3? I'M HYPED

February 10th

The walk to work was slippery and wet. Glad he wore boots, Zexion shivered and pushed open the door of his place of employment, a joint in downtown Hollow Bastion called Fenrir, which was run by a man named Cloud. They served small, simple dishes, as well as various types of alcohol. It was at some half-way point between a café and a pub. Zexion didn't particularly enjoy working there, didn't much like the service industry, but it got him money, so he didn't complain much.

As he fled to the back room and hid the notebook with the rest of his stuff, he noticed there was only one other person serving that night. Zexion walked out to the main area of the shop, apron-clad, and greeted his co-worker, Luxord, who mixed drinks, and gave a curt nod to Vexen, the only other server. Then he heard the small bell above the door ring, which could only mean customers.

"Oh, hey, you're that guy," came a familiar voice.

Zexion turned around and saw the voice behind that vague statement belonged to one of the blonds from the café, who had just entered the establishment, hand entangled with Axel's. Another person followed closely behind. Zexion had to stop his jaw from breaking off, because it was the same man that had stood next to him on the bus only a few days earlier. He watched as they walked in and sat at table six... one of his tables.

"Oh, hello," Zexion replied after a pause. He had never been formally introduced to either Axel or Roxas, despite knowing who they were. If he said their names it would have been odd. But who could this new person be?

"Huh? You know this person, Roxy?" the taller blond inquired, pointing to Zexion as if he were some object. Um, rude. He obviously did not recognize Zexion from the bus, but that was only to be expected. His eyes had mostly been closed, and he looked scatterbrained. Wait a second...

"He witnessed Axel being stupid last week or so," Roxas answered, waving his hand around and rolling his eyes, as if to say, 'When is Axel not stupid?' and turned to Zexion. "But, y'know, I never got your name back then. Oh, and you never got mine, whoops. I'm Roxas, and this is Axel, as you probably know by now."

"Zexion," he replied, after walking up to the table and handing them menus. He noticed Axel pout at the blond's words.

"Well, nice to meet you. So, this is our friend, Demyx," the short blond declared. "Dem, say hi."

Demyx waved and did as he was told and Zexion just barely stopped himself from staring at the blond with his eyes bugging out. Dem? Demyx? The notebook belonged to this person? This person, with the piercings and stupid hair and blasting loud music? Him? Sure, by the time he'd actually been introduced, Zexion had deduced by his own reason and logic that there was a good chance of him being Dem. So he had to breath easy. Keep his cool and stay just as unperturbed as ever. He had the tenacity of an ox when it came to keeping his manner steely cool, but being confronted with a person he'd been nearly obsessing over, and so soon, was really something to balk at. It would have given a bad impression to scream and freak out, so he kept a frosty poker face. At least he was calm on the outside. Zexion would never admit to the twisting and turning in his tummy.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," he said. Yes! Score one for Zex, and not a bead of sweat. Hopefully they didn't notice his slight lag.

"Nice to meet'cha," Demyx replied, flashing a grin brighter than the sun.

"Take your time deciding what you want," Zexion said, passing out menus and trying not to faint. "I'll be right back with water and to take drink orders."

Part of the challenge of finally being introduced to Dem–or rather, Demyx–was that Zexion could only manage to scramble away as calmly as possible and hide in the back, still dazed by that smile. He flipped through the journal to see if there was any mention of what "Dem" looked like anywhere, his name, anything, and found nothing. How did this guy write so much about himself, but never mention so much as his name? Zexion did not hear someone calling his name until after about thirty seconds.

"Zexion, go wait your table!" came the voice of his co-worker and easily-angered friend, Vexen. Zexion had to oblige, even though he could spy the love of his life sitting out there, chatting it up with his friends. Zexion gulped a large lump down before putting away the notebook, sticking a notepad and pen in his apron pocket, grabbing three glasses of water, and descending upon the group. He caught eyes with Demyx and immediately looked at the other two, placing the water down.

"Hello, I will be your server this evening, can I start you off with some drinks?" he asked aloud getting the notepad and pen out and ready. They looked up at him and he felt his insides quake. Axel spoke first.

"Just gimmie whatever's the spiciest drink you got," he said. Zexion jotted down something he figured fit the redhead's order, or at least something he was sure Luxord would be able to decipher, and turned to Roxas.

"I'm designated driver, so just get me a coke," he replied, leaning into his hand and not looking very pleased. Zexion also wrote this down and reluctantly looked at Demyx.

"I'd just like a beer, thank you!" he said, grinning. "Stout."

Once their drink orders were down, but not until after IDs had been checked, Zexion left to give the orders to Luxord as fast as he could. Who the hell said thank you after giving their order at a restaurant? Not most people Zexion acquainted himself with, that was for sure.

Ten minutes later, after the drinks had been served, Zexion approached the table to get meal orders, handy-dandy notebook in hand.

The rest of Zexion's shift went by rather quickly. More customers shifted in and out. He noticed a few distant, way-out-there glances in his direction coming from Demyx, which almost made him loose his poker face. Demyx was staring at him? Was there something on his face? Zexion made sure to glare and turn around as fast as possible whenever he noticed those gazes. He decided it was just his imagination and that Demyx staring at him was not actually happening. It was all just a figment of his imagination, and that was that.

Figment or not, each glance turned his stomach into a tornado.

When it came time for them to pay, Zexion placed the bill on the table and walked off to wait his other tables. Vexen or whoever could take the register for all he cared, if he didn't scare the customers off with his cheekbones, that is. Zexion was not about to embarrass himself in front of Demyx any longer. He wasn't willing to admit to himself that the real reason he booked it so fast was to get out of Demyx's scalding-hot gaze.

. • • • .

Two hours later found Zexion sighing as he hung up his apron, took off his name tag, grabbed his satchel, and went on break. He didn't like eating at his workplace and he despised the school's cafeteria, which was closed anyway. There was a nice place nearby he went to for his breaks. A little diner a couple blocks away.

Just as Zexion was stepping out of the shop, he happened to turn his head and catch sight of something very interesting, and his eyes nearly popped out of his head. He would have missed it if he'd not turned around. There, standing on the street corner under a streetlight with his hand in his pockets, was Demyx.

Torn between going on break and approaching the blond, Zexion stood right where he was. Would Demyx think he was weird for just going up to him? He had to think of a good quip to let the blond know he was friendly. But they did just meet, and he was probably waiting for Axel and Roxas... wherever they were.

Zexion shifted his gaze between the blond and the way to the diner. Simultaneously taking a deep breath and rubbing his temples, Zexion took the first fatal step toward Demyx. With each step he felt his heart pounding increasingly faster, and he was thankful it was dark so the blush creeping up his neck and onto his cheeks was not visible. He almost stopped when he remembered he didn't have anything to say once he finally reached the blond. He'd have to improvise.

"What are you doing loitering?" he asked, voice cool and soft.

Demyx jumped and turned around, and the next thing he knew Zexion got a big eyeful of sea-green. He was sure Demyx recognized him when the blond laughed.

"Yeah, well, Axel and Roxas kinda deserted me," he replied with a shrug and a small smile. He reached to rub the back of his neck.

"So, you're just standing here? Why not take the bus?"

"I've been nervous about the bus ever since I lost my notebook. I don't want to lose anything else, y'know? I did go on the other day to see if it was still there, but it wasn't."

Zexion slightly flinched at the word "notebook" and cast his eyes down briefly.

"You have been standing on the sidewalk for two hours because you're afraid to go on a bus?" he asked, and couldn't help but raise a judgmental eyebrow at the blond.

"...Yes?"

"Well, Demyx, do you have any idea how you're getting home tonight?"

"I texted Rox and he's gonna come pick me up in a little bit. Can I hang out with you in the meantime? It's kinda boring just sitting here."

It took Zexion a few seconds to register exactly what Demyx said. He narrowed his eyes, forcing his expression to one resembling the frigid air—icy.

"You want to hang out with me?" he asked.

"Well, sure," Demyx only shrugged. He breathed into his hands and rubbed them together.

Zexion narrowed his eyes further. He found himself thinking, "No, you don't, Demyx, I am a crazy stalker and you are going to be freaked out," but he only sighed and turned around. He began walking away.

"Fine, but the place I'm going isn't very far and I am going back to work afterward."

"That's fine by me!" Demyx said, moving to catch up.

As if he were put on this planet to make Zexion uncomfortable, Demyx initiated small talk. Zexion was never so good at the small talk. He never considered himself so good at the normal talk, either.

"So... you a student at Radiant Garden?"

Zexion glanced at him, feeling his insides twist.

"Yeah."

"Oh, really? Me too! What year?"

"Senior," he sighed. He watched his breath billow and flow away.

"Oooh, me too! What's your major?"

Zexion paused. If he kept answering all these questions, would he seem too eager? Why was he answering anyway? Oh yeah, his obsession with this ridiculous journal-writer. He stared down at the sidewalk.

"Psychology."

Zexion stuffed his hands in his pockets. He kept his ears open. What would Demyx ask next?

"That stuff's kinda boring," Demyx said, earning a glare from the shorter of the two. "I'm a music major, but I guess I take a lot of marine biology classes... whoops!"

Zexion only offered a grunt and a shrug in reply.

"Well, I mean, I just loooove the ocean and I just love music, y'know? My two greatest passions!"

At this moment Zexion was getting the feeling the blond liked to talk. He didn't really mind much, to be honest, but how could anyone be this chipper so late at night? The blond was adding emphasis to his words by making dramatic hand gestures. There was something about his voice, too. It was almost soothing. Or Zexion might've just been whipped beyond belief.

Zexion didn't have much more time to think, because in seconds Demyx's expression became very mischievous and before Zexion could question him, he slipped Zexion's satchel over his shoulders and started running off with it. What? Without missing a beat, Zexion panicked. That satchel had Demyx's journal in it. If he fell or the flap opened, the journal would be shown for all the world to see, including Demyx. What would Demyx think if he found out his own journal was in the possession of a crazy stalker? Zexion ran after him. But also, like, he just suddenly took it? What the heck?

"G-give that back!"

Zexion was not in any way used to exercise or running. He was a bit too skinny for his own liking, and knew he probably should work out more. His interest in exercise was not very strong, however, so he just didn't. By the time he met Demyx at the corner, he was all tuckered out and panting.

"Boy, you sure don't get out much, do you?" Demyx asked, snickering. He draped the satchel strap over Zexion's shoulder. "Sorry I took your purse."

Zexion glared up at him, still panting.

"It's not a purse, asshole," he said. "And what are you, some kind of mugger?"

"It was all in good fun. I just kinda wanted to get a rise out of you, I guess, since you're so quiet."

Zexion was at least relieved Demyx hadn't seen the notebook in his bag, or actually stolen it. That would have been weird, and oddly ironic. They crossed the street to the diner.

"I'll have you know it is called a satchel, and it is not a purse."

"Whatever, is this the place?" Demyx asked, holding the door open for him. He took a bow and a flourish of the hand. "After you."

"I'm perfectly capable of opening doors myself, thank you," Zexion glared, kicking him in the shin and walking through the door.

Demyx took his hands off the door to hold his leg and laughed after him. He followed Zexion into the shop and sat down at a table while Zexion went up to the counter and placed his order. He turned around and looked at Demyx. He was playing with the salt and pepper shakers and acting like a child in general. Scoffing, Zexion turned back to the counter.

After a few minutes, Zexion sat down at the table across from Demyx with a coffee and a turkey sandwich. Not exactly the kind of thing one would eat for dinner. But it wasn't dinner. It was more like a midnight snack.

"Rather exciting dinner you got there," Demyx quipped.

"Uh-huh," Zexion said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

Demyx just smiled and leaned into the table. After a beat he started talking again.

"Hey, have you ever heard of Melodious Nocturne?"

"Melodious Nocturne? Can't say I have," Zexion lied through his mouthful of sandwich. Demyx frowned, but only for a moment.

"Oh, well, I suggest listening. I'm in it!" He pointed to himself with his thumb, hammy grin spread across his face.

"Oh? If you're in it, I don't want to listen."

Zexion mentally kicked himself for playing hard-to-get. Although, maybe it was better this way.

"Well, what kind of music do you listen to?"

"I don't," he replied briefly. It was mostly true. He didn't listen to much music anymore. Sometimes while studying he'd listen to something classical, but that was it.

"What about guitar? Like, electric guitar? Acoustic guitar?"

"I don't usually listen to much music. I used to."

"What? But Zexy, music is amazing!" Demyx said, head in his hands. Zexion's head shot up like a bullet at the new nickname and he lost temporary control of his poker face. He hoped the blush he could so obviously feel heating up his face didn't show.

"Wh-who are you calling Zexy!?" he asked, sputtering. Demyx's eyes widened.

"What's wrong with Zexy? I think it's cute."

Zexion tried not to squish his sandwich and took a few deep breaths to calm himself. He immediately converted back to stone-faced Zexion, cleared his throat, and shot out a curt laugh.

"Nicknames such as 'Zexy' are rather inappropriate for newly-met acquaintances such as ourselves," he replied, putting emphasis on "Zexy" as if it tasted bad when he said it.

"Well, you don't have to get so upset with me. You could just say, 'Hey Dem, I don't really like it when you call me Zexy!' and then it'd be all good."

"My sincerest apologies, and believe me when I say this, but there is nothing 'all good' about calling you Dem, either. We met hardly two hours ago."

"You're too stiff. Loosen up a bit! You don't have to reply to everything so formally."

Zexion's eyebrow twitched.

"Allow me to formally tell you to shut your mouth."

"What? C'mon, don't be like that."

Zexion finished his sandwich and got up from the table. He picked up his coffee and hightailed it out of there as fast as he could. Not good, not good at all. Perhaps he couldn't get along with Demyx after all. They were just too different. Even the walk over proved that. Demyx groaned and jumped up. He followed Zexion out the door.

When they got back to Fenrir, Demyx perched himself at the bar. Whenever Zexion came around he made a big deal of getting his attention, despite the fact that Zexion was trying to work, emphasis on trying. It might as well have just been the two of them, because Zexion could hardly keep his attention away from the blond for a split second. After only fifteen minutes back at work Zexion had forgotten all about his upset earlier.

Demyx stayed until the end of Zexion's shift–wasn't Roxas supposed to pick him up?–and he walked Zexion to the bus stop, the whole while exchanging quips. Before he left, he had Zexion's number in his phone, and vise versa. Zexion later fell asleep with a grin on his face and his stomach filled with happy butterflies. He'd never admit to tightly hugging his phone to his chest.

. • • • .

February 11th

When Zexion woke up the next morning, his glance immediately fell on his old, beat-up dinosaur of a cell phone. His face spread easily into a grin. He was glad no one could see him, because he looked absolutely ridiculous. He spent exactly half an hour getting ready for the day. His hair took the longest. Sometimes he thought his sweeping slate hair clashed with the rest of his attire, which usually comprised dress shirts, black slacks, and bowties, but he usually dismissed it. Occasionally his mind would wander to whether or not he should actually go out and buy some normal casual clothes, but always turned the other cheek at the idea. Demyx was to some extent fashionable, or rather, he understood the concept of casual. Perhaps Zexion could go out with Demyx sometime and—

Zexion stopped what he was doing and only stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, toothpaste dribbling down his chin. It was looking back at him, completely shocked. His reflection was absolutely bewildered with the words that had gone through his mind.

Go out with Demyx?

A pale, rosy flush snuck its way up to Zexion's face.

No, no, certainly he was not thinking he could ever go out with Demyx. Demyx had something going for him. He had talent. Zexion was just a short, stoic twenty-two-year-old who just so happened to be Demyx's almost-stalker. He was certain the blond would not enjoy finding him out. Zexion would lose all chances of winning the man's heart, and what would that accomplish besides Zexion's poor, broken heart? Exactly nothing. He was not going to go out with Demyx, and that was final. All it could end with was catastrophe.

Besides, what if Demyx didn't swing that way? Zexion could hardly come to terms with what he was thinking. He was gay himself, so why was he having so much difficulty with this? He supposed he always over-thought things, always complicated them. That's what happens when you're not much of a talker and you don't have many friends, anyway. In any case, it wasn't like his ridiculous fantasies could ever become more than fantasies.

Walking toward his front door and bundling up, Zexion absently wondered if he'd see Demyx walking around. He'd give him a day or so before dismissing that whole thing the night before as just a dream, and Demyx hadn't actually walked him to the bus stop or called him Zexy. If the blond didn't call or text him, that was that. He just had to accept his fate. He slipped his boots on and walked out the door.

Class was uneventful. As hard as he tried, Zexion couldn't keep his attention off the lack of buzzing in his pocket. Oh well, it was only noon. Demyx had plenty of time to send him a message.

Work was uneventful. Still no sign of Demyx. That particular shade of blond didn't show up at Fenrir, and didn't send any messages, either. Zexion was periodically sneaking into the back room all night checking to see if he'd received any communication whatsoever from the blond, only to end up with nothing every time. He was getting his hopes up. What was he expecting, though? Demyx didn't even know he existed until the day before, and it wasn't like Zexion was particularly interesting. In fact, he thought he was flat out boring.

Zexion's journey home was longer and a little lonelier than normal. It stopped snowing, but the sidewalks were still covered with the stuff. It was melting a little, and he slushed, scowling, through the dirty, black city snow. He huffed out a puff of breath, white in contrast, and reluctantly made his way to the bus.

When Zexion went to bed that night, he spent an awful long time staring at Demyx's name in his phone's contact list. He was glad he was laying down, because his head was reeling. How had he gone from finding a notebook on a bus, to essentially becoming obsessed with the book's owner, to now having a direct means of communication with said owner? It was too good to be true. Zexion flipped his phone closed, turned onto his side, and went to sleep.