By morning, Demyx still couldn't come up with an explanation for how Axel knew about his band history, or that he might have the option of adding it to his class schedule. The only thing that made sense was that someone in admissions had told Axel. Given how coldly his sister Kairi seemed to have responded to him during the brief time Demyx had seen the pair interact, he was guessing she wasn't the one who'd coughed up the information.
That left the administrators themselves, and the only reason they'd have to divulge information about band from his last school was…his parents trying to ensure something similar didn't happen again, that Demyx was staying true to his promise to pray for healing from those sinful desires.
Which meant Axel would be the person who was checking up on him. A veritable spy.
But was that it? Axel didn't exactly seem like the type to take orders without question. He did seem to know his Bible though. Demyx had to give him credit for that.
Or it could still be Sora. He'd be a more obvious choice, at least.
Or Demyx could just be tripping completely and his parents hadn't asked anyone to spy on him in any way. Maybe they were just trusting his word and monitoring him from home.
Man, why was this so hard to figure out?
Either way, he had no answers. But maybe — just maybe — if he played his cards right, he could get some.
Demyx met Sora at their shared row of lockers the next morning, although he initially hung back, simply observing before making his appearance known.
Riku was there, long silver hair pulled back neatly with a tie of some sort, khakis and oxford shirt crisp as ever. Sora was speaking in animated tones with his friend, although from where Demyx stood, he couldn't hear the topic of conversation. Unlike Riku, Sora seemed to have a perpetually less put-together appearance.
It wasn't that Sora wasn't wearing the required school uniform. Not that. His shirt was tucked in, pants neatly pressed. Instead, it was more that nothing seemed quite settled on the shorter boy. His hair, obviously combed through this morning, was already sticking up a little at the back, pants, though spotless, were an inch or two long and bunched at his feet. Demyx imagined they'd drag slightly and wear out faster as a result. It reminded him of the more lax attitude at his last school, although it was a small, insignificant comparison, Demyx told himself. Not anything that really mattered in the grand scheme of things.
This morning the pair had company, flanked by two blond haired students, one a boy, the other a petite girl. Their backs were facing Demyx though, not aware of him until he was only a few feet away and chose to speak up in greeting.
"Morning," he said, an easy smile on his face masking his continued unease. The two unidentified students turned, watching him curiously as he made his way to his locker, twisted the combo, and lifted the latch open.
"Morning," Sora repeated, his smile a lot more believable than during their conversation from the afternoon before. By his side, Riku merely nodded, apparently not deigning to speak.
"You're the new guy?" The blond boy, who looked surprisingly like Sora, spoke up, curiosity in his tone.
Demyx nodded, friendly smile still pasted dutifully on his face. "Yeah. I just started yesterday."
The blond returned the smile, if a bit tentatively.
It was Sora who leapt in to offer introductions. "These are my cousins, Roxas and Naminé. Pastor Strife is their dad, and my uncle."
"Cool," Demyx said, recognition lighting his features as he snatched a few needed textbooks and shoved them into his backpack. "I think I heard your name," he pointed to Roxas, "when I was in the admin office yesterday. Can't remember why now though."
By Roxas' side, the blonde girl giggled. Her brother's expression turned dark, however.
"Oh hush," Roxas muttered. "It wasn't funny."
Before he could think better of it, Demyx shut his locker door and fell into place beside Sora as they all headed toward their first class of the day. "What wasn't funny?" he asked.
"Nothing," Roxas said at the same time that Naminé overlapped with "Axel Albrecht stole his clothes."
Apparently this was news to Sora and Riku as well, for both slowed, Sora shooting his cousin a curious look while Riku remained ever stoic by his side.
At this early stage in a new school, Demyx didn't know what to make of the other students' reactions so, true to his usually carefree and open demeanor, he simply said the first thing that came to mind.
"Like, seriously? His clothes?"
Clapping her hands together a little, Naminé nodded, skipping a safe distance away from her brother as she took up a place next to Demyx's free side. "Yep," she almost sang. "Stole his clothes out of the locker room while Roxas was getting in an early practice for swim team. They turned up in the seat for his first class yesterday, all perfectly arranged."
"Naminé," the blond boy whined. "Not everyone needs to hear about this, you know."
At this point, Sora was hiding a smile and Demyx was biting his tongue a little to keep from snickering. It wasn't that creative of a prank, but at this school it seemed to take some balls to do anything against the rules. Apparently Axel had them in spades.
"Well, that'd explain why he had that detention slip while I was checking in yesterday morning," Demyx said, his tone contemplative.
"Yeah, except he apparently didn't show up for it." Roxas scowled a bit, looking down at his shoes as he walked. "His sister told me he has to do two days now, but I bet he'll get out of it. He gets out of everything."
That explained Axel's presence while he was waiting for his ride yesterday afternoon, Demyx supposed. It didn't explain why the red-head seemed to skirt administrative justice as much as Roxas claimed he did though.
Before he could ask Roxas what he meant, the boy and his sister disappeared into one of the classrooms to his right with a quiet farewell. Just not before Demyx saw Naminé shoot a cute but shy little smile his way.
Oh man.
He, Sora, and Riku continued on in silence for a moment, their Calc classroom still a good couple of hallways away. It was Demyx who ultimately broke the silence.
"So, uh, this Axel guy. He'd a bit of a bada— troublemaker, I mean?"
Sora looked up, expression neutral, almost guarded again. "Yeah, a bit, you could say."
It seemed as though he was holding something back, although Demyx really couldn't figure out what. It didn't seem like Sora was going to come out with it on his own though, so he continued his questioning, trying to sound as innocent as possible.
"Well, why did Roxas think he wouldn't end up having to do detention? It sounds like he breaks a lot of rules, you know, with pranking your cousin and the long hair—"
"That's allowed, actually," Riku cut in, momentarily silencing Demyx who'd been taken by surprise. Riku didn't seem to be much of a talkative guy, from what he had thus far observed.
"He convinced the administration to allow boys to wear their hair long, since it's in the Bible," Sora piped up in agreement. "That's why Riku can keep his long too."
Demyx's gaze rested for a moment on the unique silver tresses of Sora's best friend. "Ah," he said. "Makes sense, I guess."
"The dye isn't technically allowed though," Riku spoke again, this time smirking. "That's the administration turning a blind eye for that one particular family."
Interesting. Now he was getting somewhere. Maybe.
"Why's that?" Demyx asked, again trying to make his voice curious but trying not to sound as invested in the question as he actually was.
Rounding the last corner to their Calc class, Sora shot him a guarded look that was beginning to be quite recognizable by now. "Well, it's not nice to gossip…"
"Probably a sin," Riku concurred.
"…But we assume it's just because his family donates a lot of money to the school each year."
"As in, we can now build a wing for the new library kind of money," Riku said.
"It's just a guess, though," Sora rushed hurriedly on as they entered Mr. Valentine's classroom. "Not something you should go spreading around, okay?"
Duly noted, Demyx thought as he smiled and offered assurances that he wasn't the gossiping type. Still, even these answers came with their own set of new questions. Not that he was willing to admit it even to himself at the moment, but Demyx found himself definitely wanting to know more.
~ o ~ o ~
Back at home, dinner was just as forced and tense as ever. It was obvious his parents were still walking on eggshells around him, still not sure how to handle the news that had induced them to send their only child to an entirely new school so close to graduation and crack down on any freedoms he might have had there.
As Demyx picked at the lima beans on his plate, he tried to think positively. At least he hadn't run into Axel after school while waiting for his ride today. Granted, he'd specifically steered clear of the underpass between the two buildings where they'd encountered one another last time, but it's not like the school was that big. He could easily have run into him elsewhere, especially since there was only one real place to wait for your ride.
He didn't know what to think about Axel, how to deal with the information he'd gotten about his fellow classmate. By all accounts, Axel seemed like a rebel. But with a sister who volunteered in the administration office before classes started each morning, and a family that apparently could afford to build the entire school at least a couple times over, something just didn't seem to add up for Demyx. Maybe Axel outwardly appeared to be a rule-breaker, yeah. That didn't explain how he seemed to know Demyx had been into band at his last school. He would've needed administration records for that, or for Kairi to have willingly told him, which Demyx highly doubted would have happened — unless the rebel line was just a bit of a cover for spying, that is.
"Did you have a good day at school?" His mother broke into this thoughts, forcing Demyx back to the present, back to the fact that they hadn't had a normal conversation — or even dinner — in almost two months now. Always the peacemaker though, she was trying. Demyx didn't think his father had yet figured out how to deal with any of this, on the other hand, which meant he hadn't. It also meant that, while his mother chattered nervously whenever she managed to get her son to talk, his father kept quiet, expression stoic as he acted like the food, the television, anything was more important or interesting than conversing with his son.
"Yeah, it was fine," Demyx responded. He'd always been more like his mother anyway when it came to difficult or tense times. A peacemaker.
Then, awkward silence settled over them again as they sat and pretended they weren't chewing their food twice as long as was needed before swallowing.
His mother tried again. "How are your classes going so far, sweetie? Keeping up?"
Demyx nodded. "Pretty much." And then, in an attempt to cut the awkwardness, he gave her something else. "We seem to be around where I left off at my last school, for the most part."
His mother beamed a little too brightly. At least she was trying though, Demyx thought again. It was his father who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here at the moment.
Was he so disgusted by his son now that he couldn't even look him in the eye, Demyx wondered. From their silent car rides home and these equally silent meals, it sure as heck seemed like it. It made him feel like crap.
"I do need to get online," he ventured, figuring now was as good a time as any to tell them.
Both parents looked up at this. "For a history assignment," Demyx supplied.
The internet was another so-called privilege that was off-limits to him for awhile. No internet, no car, nothing that could lead him back into sin, he'd been told. Punishment length: currently undetermined.
"Show me the assignment sheet, so I can look it over before approving." It was the first time his father had spoken all evening, and now it was Demyx's turn to be silent. His father intimidated him a little. What was worse, he was someone Demyx truly looked up to, so feeling that he'd let his dad down by his actions at his previous school stung more than Demyx wanted to admit.
Demyx nodded in response. In fact, he'd made sure to have the teacher write down the assignment and the length he'd need to spend online in order to complete it in anticipation of just such a situation. It didn't mean his father's reminder of his lack of freedom made him feel any better about it though.
He wondered how long this would last, how long until he was treated with a modicum of trust again. Or would it go on forever? He'd made one mistake, one he wasn't even sure was actually a real mistake, to be honest. Either way, actions of all sorts had consequences. Demyx was living his right now in the flesh.
They finished their dinner just as they'd started, in silence. Without being asked, Demyx cleared off his place setting, heading to the kitchen with it without speaking. For someone who'd once been relatively peppy in his interactions with others, Demyx found the silence stifling. He didn't know what to say though. More and more, he was also discovering he no longer wanted to try to think through what had once come so naturally to him.
He wasn't in the mood to fight either though, hadn't been for two months now. Instead, Demyx simply finished up with his dishes and hurried to dig out the assignment sheet from his history teacher. He handed it over to his father without a word and waited as the sandy-haired man who looked so much like an older version of him read it over.
Look at me, Dad, Demyx found himself thinking. Look at me, and say something. I'm trying. Can't you see that? So why aren't you?
When his father finally did look up, the man didn't meet his eyes, and Demyx felt his heart sink. "Thirty minutes then," was all his father said as he stood, not even seeing the disappointed expression on his son's face as Demyx nodded acquiescence.
Demyx followed his father upstairs and into his own room. His father waited as he turned on his desktop computer. It hadn't been on since he was at his last school, being completely useless without his family's Wi-Fi password, which had been promptly changed after The Incident. His parents didn't know much about computers or the internet, but they knew enough to be able to cut off his web access.
Now Demyx pulled up the Wi-Fi settings and stepped back, eyes averted as his father moved to block his view of the computer screen and typed in the password.
"I'll be back in thirty minutes to shut it off again," his father's tone went lower in warning. "Manage your time appropriately, because that's all you'll get."
At least his father had stopped warning him not to go to other sites outside of those that were approved, although it was still implied in his words. Demyx would've been surprised if his parents even knew what a browser history was, let alone that it was possible to delete it. Still, he wasn't planning on fucking up again. He hadn't needed the additional reminder.
"Yes sir," Demyx said, his voice polite. He'd always addressed his dad this way. After several years of military service before Demyx had been born, he knew it was the title his father preferred, despite the baffled reactions from some of his friends whenever they heard it. In fact, it was a wonder he hadn't been sent off to military school after what had happened, just like with…
Demyx forced his thoughts to a stop. He could be grateful that it had been the first time his mother had chosen to challenge his father's decision in recent memory and simply leave it at that. Thoughts of the alternative were too unpleasant to want to sit around thinking about for any length of time.
Sliding into the seat at his desk, Demyx launched a browser and, on a whim, typed in the URL for his email client. It wouldn't hurt just to check his email for a second.
There was nothing but spam mail in his inbox though, and a few two month old emails from friends, no doubt trying to get in touch and figure out what had actually happened. His old school was so much more lax than this one here, what he'd done wouldn't have been cause for expulsion. At most, they probably would've gotten detention. If only their fathers hadn't been old college buddies, if only they hadn't both been so furious…
A chatbox on the bottom right of his mail client popped up, revealing the first line of text from sparkyblonde12: DEMY. What the hell is up with you?
Larxene.
Demyx felt an uncomfortable stab of guilt at the realization that while he'd been wallowing in self-pity the last few months, his friends back at his old school probably didn't have much of a clue what had happened to him at all. It wasn't entirely his fault, since with his internet and cell privileges severely restricted he hadn't had any way to contact them anyway. It wasn't like he'd put any effort into trying either. Demyx figured he'd already been in enough trouble as it was, without potentially getting caught in another apparent act of rebellion trying to get back in touch with old friends.
Feeling like shit, Demyx x'ed the chatbox and logged out of his account. Now he needed a distraction more than anything, but with a 25 minute video clip to watch on YouTube, he really didn't have much time to do anything else.
He pulled the video up easily, grabbing a notebook and pen to take notes while he watched, still feeling crappy about not having even warned Larxene he couldn't talk right now.
Thoughts of Larxene brought up memories of other friends. Of him. Before he could stop himself, Demyx opened another browser window to YouTube and typed in his friend's username from memory. He had to dig through a page or so of newer video clips before he found the one he was looking for, but that took a matter of seconds.
Pulling the clip up, Demyx muted it directly, and paused it so he could fast-forward through to the point he wanted to see. He didn't have time to watch anything tonight aside from his history assignment, but that was fine. For now, he just wanted to look, afraid that watching the entire thing would undo him so completely his father would know something was up just from looking at him when he came in to shut off the internet connection 26 minutes from now.
At 1:36, Demyx stopped scrolling through the video and, for a solid 30 seconds, just stared.
Dyed slate-blue hair, covering all of one eye and most of his forehead. One blue eye looking toward the camera, a shy smile gracing thin, almost delicate, lips.
Demyx's mouth opened to form a word. A name, actually. But no sound issued forth. Slowly, he minimized the window, clicking and dragging it to the top left of his computer screen. Then it was back to the history assignment in the larger window and taking notes.
By the time his father returned to shut off his internet, the smaller window was gone, the browser history of its existence permanently deleted. But for 25 minutes, Demyx listened to the history video, took notes and, in the rare moments his hand wasn't moving and the video narrative slowed, his eyes turned upward, to the left. Memorizing details.
Remembering.