Vexen wasn't so lucky.
He tried to make friends with Larxene, he honestly did, but he'd never exactly been the most sociable of people and when she instantly - and vocally - decided to hate him, it was all he could do not to close up on himself completely. He wondered vaguely, a month in as he walked past Larxene's room to hear her complaining loudly on the phone about the "fucking faggots", whether she realised just how much every low, biting remark was beginning to hurt him.
And when Vexen was hurt he became snappish and grouchy and stopped appreciating Marluxia's attempts to sex him up while he was trying to finish preparation for an important presentation, even if he had been honestly asking for a distraction by sprawling out on the bed, naked and on his stomach, as he tapped word after chemical formula into his laptop. But eventually, even he had to succumb to a soothing massage from Marluxia's experienced fingertips, the ones that had long since memorised every curve of the older man's body.
"It's Larxene, isn't it."
Vexen knew by now that there was no point in lying to Marluxia. They never really lied any more; it led to a lot of arguments when one, other or both of them were painfully blunt, but Marluxia had said - and Vexen remembered well - that it was complicated enough interacting with another person without knowing if they were being honest or not. Vexen had laughed bitterly. Marluxia had nothing to complain about; he had the ability to traverse social situations with effortless ease; it was Vexen who just didn't get other people. It was that that meant that Vexen had very few friends of his own (he tended to sort of leech off Marluxia in that department as the pink haired man had plenty) and - as Marluxia had once accidentally admitted - probably a contribution to the fact that he didn't have any family, either.
"She reminds me of my mother."
"Just ignore her," Marluxia said gently, draping himself over his lover's back to stare over his shoulder at the screen, filled with words that were all Greek to him. Vexen sighed.
"Don't you think I'm trying?"
"It's not like she can do anything to you," Marluxia insisted. "She's just some girl. Who cares?"
"I care."
"Well, don't. It's starting to affect your libido and you can only just keep up with me at the best of times." Marluxia huffed half-seriously, and successfully drew a short chuckle from the man beneath him. He smiled triumphantly. "Do I feel a pair of gorgeous legs opening for me?"
Vexen was grinning despite himself as he wriggled Marluxia away.
"I've still got another five minutes of speaking to fill."
"So? I know you can read books and have sex at the same time."
"That's different. I actually have to concentrate now. And anyway, it'll completely mess up the speech. I'll get to one point and realise that it was the part when we came or whatever, and I'll start blushing and ruin everything."
Marluxia laughed, climbing stubbornly back onto Vexen's lower back, wrapping his arms around the other man.
"Now that I'd like to see."
"And ruin my doctorate? I don't think so," Vexen replied sardonically.
"Hey, I didn't think that this was actually part of your final thing."
"It counts for fifteen percent of my research," Vexen explained, turning reluctantly back to his laptop to tap more and more notes. "Besides, once I've written this, I need to learn it. And that'll take ages. So we don't have time for sex."
"We always have time for sex," Marluxia huffed petulantly, his fingers wandering again to find those delightfully wide hips. They were still a little bruised from last night, but then again that was part of the wonderful thing about it. The two of them were always covered in little welts and love marks, souvenirs lovingly left from each other - at first it had been somewhat embarrassing, particularly during school trips, but their friends soon got used to their rather sexual nature and hardly anybody (except old ladies from across the street, and people like that) noticed them any more.
"No, we don't," Vexen replied flatly, rolling onto his back to play with buttons - it wasn't fair that he was the only one naked, after all. "We just do it anyway. I swear, I'd have everything done a week before the deadline if only you'd keep your hands away from me for just a few more hours in a day."
"My hands?" Marluxia replied incredulously, grinning as he brushed Vexen's hair away from his ear, leaning down to lick at it with a hot, wet tongue. "I'm not the only one who can't stay away when he needs to."
Vexen decided that that didn't warrant a reply as he smiled a smaller - but no less predatory - smile, and shoved the laptop somewhere to be forgotten in lieu of far more interesting, beautiful things. Half an hour later, Larxene came in asking if anybody was planning on cooking supper or whether another takeaway would be in order for tonight - and immediately wished she'd never thought to ask.
"At least we're being quiet this time,"
"You're bloody fingering each other!"
"Ten out of ten for observation, sweetie."
Larxene scowled at the opposite wall through her fingers which were covering her face. She'd seen more permanently scarring things in one month of living with Vexen and Marluxia than the entirety of the rest of her eighteen year old and somewhat sheltered life.
"You know what," She managed as her mind wandered on to all the things that Marluxia and Vexen touched with their fingers apart from each other's genitals, "I think I'll order in a Chinese. And buy some new cutlery. And doorknobs."
"Heh. Knob."
"Marluxia!"
"Sorry. That was a bit immature, wasn't it."
"Very."

-

"I swear, if I walk on them doing it one more time, I'll..."
Larxene was walking Naminé to the station like she always did after another day of Uni, some day at the end of October, and as had become sort of customary to her, she was complaining about Vexen and Marluxia. She normally used Naminé as a kind of vent for all her frustrations, because all the guys in her class just laughed and none of the girls seemed to understand. For some reason, they thought that having moans and - oh God, it really was disgusting - squelching noises going on in the corner when she tried to watch TV in the evening was actually cute. But Naminé just listened to her in pensive silence as she ranted on about how if God existed, then why hadn't he smitten them yet, and anyway even if they didn't miraculously get struck by lightning, they'd probably get Aids soon and die.
"Not everybody who's gay has Aids, you know," Naminé had piped up halfway through one of these rants. "And lesbians actually have the lowest amount of it out of any group."
"Yeah, well, Marluxia and Vexen aren't lesbians, are they?"
Naminé let out a little sigh. She was probably tied, Larxene thought. Well, it was Friday and then there'd be Halloween at the weekend - and somebody was throwing a party that Larxene and Naminé were both invited to - so she was probably just not looking forward to not only getting no sleep at the weekend, but then being forced to suffer a whole nother week of it afterwards.
"At least they're not just going off and having sex with random strangers."
"How would that help? They're always having sex. I'm sick of it."
"Have you tried talking to them about it?"
Larxene snorted.
"Of course. But they won't do a single thing about it. Vexen just gets all uptight about it, and Marluxia laughs, and five minutes later they're snogging again. And they leave dirty little post it notes around the place for each other. I hate it."
"Well," Naminé said quietly, "It's not like it's all because they're gay."
"I wouldn't have that much sex if I had a boyfriend."
"How do you know that?"
For once, Larxene was at a bit of a loss. How did she know that she wouldn't be all over her boyfriend if she had one? The truth was, she didn't, but she didn't want Naminé - who was being annoyingly argumentative as it was - to know that.
"Only gay people have that much sex. They're all just horny, dirty bastards."
This seemed to have the right effect. Naminé shut up and had nothing else to say on the matter for the rest of the journey, and she waved Larxene away as soon as they reached the station, even though there was still another ten minutes before her train was due to arrive.

-

"Hey, Larxene. We're repainting our room, finally, this weekend. Wanna help out?"
Marluxia had caught up with Larxene an hour or so after she'd arrived back home - the apartment had been blissfully silent ever since because Vexen was staying out late at his University to finish some work uninterrupted for his presentation on Monday. Marluxia always found that Larxene was somewhat easier to talk to when only one of them was around - but that was probably because one of them was usually groping the other if they were together.
But she'd shook her head anyway.
"I've got a party."
"All weekend?" Marluxia asked with a slight quirky smile. Excuses, excuses. Larxene was full of them when it came to voluntarily spending time with either of her housemates.
"Yeah. Well, I'm sleeping over and I'll be hung over all of Sunday anyway."
"That's a shame. We're doing a mural and we were really hoping that you'd be able to help us out. Being an art student and all."
"What are you going to paint?" Larxene asked incredulously. "A giant cock?"
Marluxia chuckled.
"Now there's an idea. We were actually thinking of a sunset over a cityscape, or something similar, but a giant cock works too."
Larxene rolled her eyes, turning back to her art research on some famous sculptor with more enthusiasm than she held for talking to Marluxia, and even that wasn't very much.
"Well, I'm busy."
"Fair enough. But if you change your mind, we'll probably start at about nine tomorrow. So for once we actually will be moving furniture."
"Very funny." Larxene said. She didn't laugh. Marluxia sighed, mostly to himself.
"You know, it would be nice if you at least tried to make an effort."
"It would be nice if you tried to make an effort!"
"I'm not having sex now, am I?" Marluxia said, holding his hands out. "And when was the last time we were doing it anywhere other than our bedroom? Face it, Larxene. Even if you haven't bothered to notice, Vexen and I have changed for you. Do you want us to put a pink fluffy hairband on the door when we're having sex from now on? I've got a fair few. We could have a different one for each position, that way you'd know what we were doing without having to see it since you're clearly so curious, the time you spend going on about it. We could even have a little band for a blow job or a hand job."
"See?" Larxene said triumphantly, standing abruptly and knocking her water pot to the floor without noticing. "See, this is your problem. Everything is just sex to you! You are so shallow. You're revolting."
Marluxia raised his eyebrows a little, more or less unfazed by Larxene's open disgust.
"Who are you," He challenged evenly, "To say what is shallow and what isn't? You've never even had a boyfriend. You've never fallen in love. How can you possibly know how either Vexen or I feel?"
He reached down to pick up the spilled pot from the floor, placing it back onto Larxene's desk with calculated precision.
"Because it seems to me like you're the shallow one. Just because we're gay you're refusing to look past the surface to see that underneath we're human just like anybody else. That kind of prejudice will cost you friends, Larxene."
"Is that a threat?" Larxene asked. She'd turned back to her painting, ugly brush strokes furiously marring the page as she worked. She couldn't meet Marluxia's eyes and he knew it.
"No," He replied softly as he left. "Just a simple observation."
He knew that would sting her more. An amiable enough person Marluxia was most of the time, but he knew how to cut someone and cut them deep. He wasn't threatening that it could happen. He was saying that it would. Sure enough, Larxene's fists clenched angrily, and so - rubbing salt into the wound the way he always effortlessly and completely consciously could, he added flippantly - "The offer on us helping paint our room is still open."

Larxene ignored them both for another two weeks.

-

"Larxene?"
Larxene had been using Sharpies in her room and the fumes were beginning to mess with her head, so she'd migrated into the kitchen when Marluxia wandered in alone and began to nonchalantly raid the fridge as though nothing had been happening and they'd always been friends. She ignored him at first, but when he repeated her name she realised that she was doing nothing but incriminating herself by refusing to speak.
"What?"
"I'm walking next door's dog in a minute. Want to come?"
Larxene sighed inwardly.
"I don't know why you bother to ask me things like that. You know the answer will be no."
"I keep hoping that you'll change your mind about Vexen and I," Marluxia said, almost sadly. Larxene glanced up from her work.
"What do you mean? I think I've got you both down to a T. Sex crazed maniacs."
"Just because we're sex crazed doesn't mean there isn't more to us,"
"I've never seen anything else," Larxene huffed in a voice that clearly said that she didn't want to be talked to. Marluxia persevered anyway.
"So obviously you haven't noticed that Vexen does snowboarding on Thursdays, or that I help out at the local church doing flower arrangements for the Sunday services? The fact that we always make a point to go and do something new every once in a while that isn't sex, and clearly you didn't know that we're saving up to go on holiday together this summer after Vexen's doctorate is finished."
Larxene, predictably, didn't reply. Marluxia was silent too for a time, plucking out an apple and eating it carefully until nothing was left but a pippy core.
"Perhaps you should give us a chance," He finally said, and, picking up his shoes and slipping them on, left. As he was disappearing out of the door, Larxene found herself mouthing two vindictive little words at his back:
"Fat chance."

-

Advent arrived and with it came a box taken out of storage filled with beautiful old decorations that soon found their way around the apartment. Larxene and Vexen managed to arrive home together one day - they didn't speak - to find the hallway glittering with fairy lights and strung with tinsel and baubles, paper chains and more lights infecting the kitchen with a festive cheer. Larxene didn't want to admit it, but they were pretty. Very pretty. There wasn't a tree - neither of them could afford one - but in place of one there were extra baubles and decorations gaudily strung from every protruding edge available. Some were very old, homemade with pipecleaners and glitter paint, but they still managed to have a nostalgic charm about them. There was one that confused Larxene - what looked to be a washing line strung with pegs.
"What's this one supposed to be?"
"Hm? Oh, that's for cards. Marluxia's family always do that, so we just carried on the tradition here."
Larxene was loathe to admit that it was actually a pretty good idea.
"So what about your family? Any traditions you took here?"
Vexen coughed uncomfortably.
"No."
Larxene frowned, wondering why Vexen had suddenly spoken so coldly and bluntly. She'd been talking to him, hadn't she? Making an effort, even if he was a dirty faggot who honestly didn't deserve everything that he had, wasn't she?
"Why not? Boring, are they? You never talk about them. Even Marluxia's mentioned his Mum and Dad a couple of times."
Vexen looked away, his fingers brushing over a messily painted cardboard snowflake that was grinning gaily as it twinkled in the light.
"I don't want to talk about it."
In Larxene's mind this translated to I don't want to talk to you and she scowled again, discretely and purposefully knocking a little bauble to the floor. It bounced harmlessly on the thick carpet and settled in a nook a foot or so from where she stood.
"Fine."
Vexen seemed offended, which was odd because for once Larxene hadn't even insulted him.
"Larxene?" He said suddenly after several minutes of awkward silence.
"What."
"Have you ever been pushed away from somebody just because of who you were?"
Larxene shrugged.
"Sure. You can't have everybody like you. Who gives a shit?"
"I mean, somebody you really loved."
"I wouldn't love them if they didn't like who I was." Larxene said. "Simple as. What's the point of loving them if they hate you?"
Vexen helplessly shook his head.
"But if you loved them before they found out this thing about you."
Vexen was so obviously speaking autobiographically, Larxene thought as she settled down on the sofa, turning on the TV and flicking idly through the channels. There was nothing satisfactory to watch.
"Who was it, then?"
Vexen glanced up, shook his head and let it hang again.
"Nobody."
He was tense for a moment until there was the sound of a key clicking open a lock and suddenly relief washed over Vexen's face and he hurried out to greet Marluxia. For a while Larxene could hear them conversing in low voices in the hallway, but then they disappeared into their room and she could pick out nothing more.

-

Marluxia had lain candles along the windowsill in the kitchen, twenty four of them, and every evening as they sat down for supper he would turn off all the lamps, light all the corresponding candles and that was how they would eat, by soft, flickering candlelight. The first night, there was just one and they ate blindly, in near darkness with just one candle to light them, but as the days progressed and more and more candles were lit each night, things became clearer, became easier. It was almost poetic, the simplicity of Marluxia's unusual advent calendar, and the way that the shimmering lights formed a clear diagonal line, the first candle the lowest as the weight of every cold December day wore its soft wax down, was somehow so beautiful.
"Things are getting clearer," Marluxia explained on the fifteenth as they ate by the light of enough candles to clearly see the colours of the food that he'd earlier prepared. "Like the Three Wise Men, travelling to Bethlehem by the light of a single star - as we draw closer, things are slowly becoming clearer."
Larxene was struck numb by that simple statement. It was different, somehow, to every strict mass she'd suffered through at Sunday School, all her parent's promises that if she didn't live by the Bible she'd be damned to hell for all eternity along with the murderers and rapists and gays. It made sense.
"I thought you didn't believe in religion."
"I don't," Marluxia said softly as Vexen looked away as though he was embarrassed. "It's just a beautiful story."
Larxene turned back to the shadows dancing around the food on her plate.
"Oh."