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A story by Besieged Infection

Standard disclaimer applies.

...

Chapter Four: March of 2010

...

The Exception Laws IV

Hybrids must register with their city of residence and must carry their I.D. card with them at all times.

...

It was the morning of Friday, March 12th. The egg was light in his hands, just the right size to be thrown at the heathen's door. His friends lined up with him on the block, ready to launch their eggs at it with as much strength their five year old arms could muster.

They all seemed to wait for a signal from the house they stood before to start. As if the house itself seemed to size them up. A car drove by, and they all just stood there. The house was a dull yellow, bright and cheery, with red trim. Grass was neatly mowed, flower bed tended, and a rope swing hung from a large oak, obviously used a lot if the indent of the wooden seat was any indication. All this was kept behind a tall, white-picket fence.

"Go away!" a small blonde boy yelled, stepping forward to toss the egg high over the fence towards the front door of the house. It fell short on the pathway, spattering those within range with spots of yolk and eggshells. Blue eyes shined with mirth as it landed, though he was not satisfied.

One of the other boys, a silvrette, yelled, "Go back to hell!", launching his own egg into the yard. He grinned in satisfaction as it hit the side of the house with a sick splat, his face split with a smile in pure grim amusement. Other voices and eggs followed his, curses filling the air around him. Pure adrenaline coursed through the blonde as he fired another egg at the house. This one hit the sidewalk, as well. Followed by another, and another. One, a woman peeked out behind the curtains, wincing as half a dozen eggs pelted the glass at the sight of her face.

By the time they were almost out of eggs, they had yet to hit the front door. The windows had gotten the worst of it.

Something in the air snapped. "Die, fuckers!" the blonde heard himself yell, preparing to launch the last egg at the house.

"Stop," a woman yelled racing over the grasp the boy's arm. She brushed a dark bang out of her eyes, wide in shock and disgust as she tugged him away from the house. "What did they ever do to you, huh?"

"They're demons," the boy spat at her, his eyes boring into her matching ones. "They deserve it. All of them do."

"Just because someone is different doesn't make them bad."

"Says who? You?" A smirk followed the words. "That just means you're the enemy, too."

"And you're my son," the woman argued, brushing back the bang that had once more fallen into her face. "Does that make you the enemy? Huh?"

Someone behind him shouted "Demon-lover!" at her, soon joined by other voices. The blonde knew better, though. Instead, he apologized- not bothering to mean it.

She glanced to the house, then to her son with a searing look. "I am very disappointed in you, Demyx," she hissed, taking his left arm into a vice-grip. Demyx didn't bother struggling. Instead, he used his last moments in range of the house to toss his last egg into the yard, over the picket fence. Instead of landing on the concrete, as the rest of them did, this one sailed right over the perfectly manicured lawn, colliding with the front door with a large crack.

The six-sided star fell off the nail and onto the porch, pasted in yolk, and Demyx swelled with pride. His eyes shone in his moment of joy, but the light faded as he turned to his mother. Then they were inside the car, headed home, and he had expected her to be mad at him, maybe even yell. She had told him before not to ever do this again, but there they were. He had dreaded the moment she would raise her voice at him and tell him what-for. Tell him about nonsense he didn't care about.

Right then, he would have preferred that over... this.

His mother wiped a tear from her eye, blinking back the moisture that was forming there in an attempt to keep her eyes on the road. "I give up," she whispered. "You obviously don't care and you never will. Everyone says you should hate them, so you listen. You always do. Always to them and never to me." She laughed, then; a bitter, hollow sound that didn't belong anywhere near her beautiful features. Pale porcelain skin, smooth as glass, that shined with its own warmth, and eyes as big as you please. Delicate features, soft hair- a real beauty, she seemed to radiate light from her very being.

Not today. Today she was dull and lifeless- cold and tired.

It's hard not to cry when you know you did that to someone. How Demyx kept it in then was beyond him. The only thing he could do without breaking was the quietly whisper, "I'm sorry," to his mother.

This time he meant it.

...

"Last day of school!" a voice exclaimed, the owner of which pumping his arm into the air in his enthusiasm. It was Hayner- a Human. The teacher had left them to their own devices in the last fifteen minutes of school, the poor bastard. (Read: He couldn't handle teens on the brink of vacation.)

"Three weeks of mind-numbing unproductive boredom. I can't wait," Zexion mused, sarcasm all but ignored.

"I wasn't talking to you, freak," the boy scoffed, turning back to his friends. The Nekojin simply brushed the words off, looking back down to his book.

"Not cool, Hayner," a voice mused. Zexion glanced up, only to be graced with blue eyes, spiky blonde hair, and more black and white than should be allowed on a human. The Nekojin nodded in thanks- it was Roxas. "So what if he has ears and a tail? That doesn't make him any different from us."

"This again?" Hayner scoffed. "Just drop it."

And that marked the end of it. Zexion ignored the two friends' mini-argument, opting instead to glance up at the clock.

Ten minutes before school ceased to exist for an entire three weeks.

"Zexion?" Someone prodded him from behind, soft voice hesitant. "You going tonight?"

Zexion blinked, turning to face Naminé in the seat behind him. "Going where?" he asked, resting his arms on the back of his chair. Idly, he glanced back at the clock. Nine minutes and forty-five seconds.

The girl sighed, moving a pencil along her desk. She was drawing a paupu- a specie of star fruit that grew in the Destiny Islands. It was a popular logo, considering Twilight Town, where they lived, was as far from tropical as you could get (They were right next to Traverse Town, though, which was a big politically based city (ignore the 'Town' part of the name- it's practically the capitol) so they were kind of important to the world, at least... sort of.) so everyone was jumping for something along the lines of a vacation.

She rolled her eyes, something so un-Naminé-like that Zexion was slightly disturbed. "The party, remember? Sora's end of school party." Zexion blinked. With a sigh, Naminé lowered her pencil. "You forgot, didn't you?"

"Would it disturb you if I did?"

Slamming her hands down on the desk, drawing eyes from both the classmates and teacher, Naminé groaned. "Zexion- this has been planned for weeks! Sora was hoping you'd be there since you missed the last one."

"I never said I wasn't going."

"But you're not going, are you?" This earned her no response. Slouching down in her chair, she gave another sigh of exasperation. "Why are you avoiding him?" she asked, closing her eyes and rubbing her forehead- almost as if she were in pain.

Zexion blinked in his confusion, shifting in his chair. "I'm not avoiding Sora, Naminé. Not at-"

"It's not Sora I'm talking about," Naminé quietly whispered, eyes snapping open to bore into Zexion's. She held his gaze, then, lips barely moving with her words. "Stop avoiding him."

Clenching his jaw, the Nekojin responded, voice tight. "I don't know what you're talking about."

She laughed, then. Her voice was... oddly hollow. Was something wrong? Something wrong with her and Kairi? "Right- I haven't so much as heard of you to getting near each other for weeks. Since before Valentine's day. Why are you avoiding him?"

"I'll tell you later."

"When?"

Zexion sighed. "Look- I'll go to the party tonight, but I'm leaving town for the break." Leaning back in his chair, then leaning forward again when his tail didn't agree with the position, he continued. "I'll be back around the thirty-first. I'll call you then, okay? We'll go for a walk. Just promised me there'll be no Demyx and no Kairi."

She smiled, then, her expression finally softening. "Promise."

...

Music at Hybrid parties was always excessively loud, for some reason- even though many of them had sharp hearing. Maybe it was because they knew that if the music was loud the neighbors would complain and the police would automatically assume it was a human party.

As long as Demyx was the one to open the door, that is.

And they were violating about three Exception laws.

For one, there were about thirty Hybrids at the party- well over the twelve Hybrid limit set by the humans that ran things, which you know is law number III. There was also IV, which, as you also know, says that Hybrids weren't allowed to go anywhere without their ID cards. Of course, there are trackers on ID cards that alert the city when they align with twelve or more ID cards. Sora had even gone as far as stashing his ID card in a secret seam inside his mother's suitcase while she was on her weekend trip with Dad. (They had apparently gone to a hotel to get some alone time.) Thus, they had left the cards at home. The worst law that they were breaking, of course, was neither of these.

The Exception Laws XIII

Signs designated by the city must be posted on a Hybrid's front door listing occupations, names, and previous discrepancies with the law.

They had taken the six-pointed star off the front door.

These were some serious rules they were breaking. Not just the 'no electronics at school' kind of rules, the one's that no one cares about, but the rules that are actually enforced. The big rules. The really big rules.

They couldn't be happier.

The nail embedded in the door seemed really lonely to Demyx- like something was missing. Doors always looked like that when something that was always there suddenly wasn't. Wood grain was always a shade darker in the spot where something was, and you could just tell when something was missing. It was just one of those things where you could tell something was off, like whenever Demyx forgot his camera he felt... bare. The door looked lonely to him. That's just what it looked like to him.

Sora's front door was lonely.

Hybrids danced together in the Inujin's living room like people possessed, weaving in and out between each other in the condensed space. A table across one wall held refreshments sporting punch, pretzels and, oddly enough, select bowls of what looked to be catnip. When Demyx asked Sora about this, he got a reaction along the lines of 'just this joke between a few friends', or something like that. He didn't find out what the deal was, even after all the Nekojins arrived- there were only three, including Zexion.

By two in the afternoon, many people had abandoned the living room in favor of turning the kitchen into something along the lines of an all-you-can-eat delicacy bar. Everyone had pitched in for different ingredients and the cooking ones of the group were churning out culinary masterpieces like carbon dioxide. Before six, people started making their way back to the 'dance' floor, bodies pounding back and forth. Demyx just watched the others have fun- he wasn't much one for dancing, after all, so he sat down and sipped at his cup of punch.

Cup after cup of the party-drink later, Demyx found himself drifting off. In fact, after a while he didn't even know what he was drinking. It was a little too sharp to be punch, and it burned his mouth a little with each sip. Whatever it was, it seemed to sharpen his mind before shoving a sort of 'mellow' into his mood with each sip. Curious how it never occurred to the boy it had been spiked. Repeatedly.

After a while, Demyx became pretty oblivious to a lot of things- like the music. The soft music flowing through the room. It seemed as if the people in the living room, their temporary dance floor, were moving from side to side to nothing. Because that's what he was registering- nothing. Soon he didn't see the Hybrids slow dancing with each other, hear any of the music, or even feel the sharp sting of the 'punch'. He didn't even notice the slight dip in the couch when someone sat next to him. It was to his credit, however, that he did notice when the weight started to talk to him.

"Didn't know you'd be here," they commented, taking a sip from their own cup- punch, as well. "You don't strike me as the type for parties. Especially illegal ones."

A shiver went up Demyx's spine at the voice, the blonde gritting his teeth in something akin to anger. "Doesn't matter if I strike you as the type, Marluxia," he spat the name with malice, teeth gritting to keep himself from... doing something. He didn't know what. "I go to these things every time they have them- especially the illegal ones. They need me here, after all."

"So I've heard," Marluxia responded, smooth as ever. "You really are indispensable to these guys, you know? To all of us."

"So I've heard." Downing the last of his drink, Demyx went to refill the cup. Sipping lightly, he trekked back to the couch. Collapsing lightly onto the couch, he turned to Marluxia. "What do you want with my sister?"

The man laughed- a sound that sounded somewhat off. "Straight to the point, aren't you?"

"Answer the question," he snapped.

There was a moment of thought before the answer, and it occurred to Demyx that he was taking this seriously. That was a first. "I don't know, to tell the truth."

This confused him. "What about friendship?"

"We already have that, don't we?" Marluxia asked, running a hand through his 'hair'. "I want more than that, I guess."

"You want her as your mate," Demyx deadpanned, swerving slightly in his seat to see the guy. Marluxia laughed, his face alight in embarrassment. He was blushing?

"Is it that obvious?" he asked, leaning back on the couch, observing the couples that began to dance to harder music, once more. "Actually, it might be. I mean- here I am, twenty years old, spending almost all my free time with a girl who's barely in middle school. I feel like a cradle-robber." He laughed again, looking down at the floor in what seemed to be... shame? Fear? "I'm not good for her, though."

Ah. Longing.

"Why do you say that?" Demyx asked. He didn't even notice as the creepy feeling he always had about the man diminished under what appeared to be sympathy.

Another laugh. "She deserves someone better- someone who won't drag her down."

"Drag her down?" Now he was royally confused, and the fuzz in his brain wasn't helping.

"I'll be properly mated in a few months, now, and she won't be feeling those things for- what? Year?" He sighed. "If I tell her and she agrees then she'll be stopped from ever finding true love." Another sigh. "As I said- dragging her down."

Demyx blinked, trying to make sense of what the man was saying. Some things clicked, though it took a while, and he missed a few things Marluxia said. He didn't care, though. "Are you saying you're worried about the age difference? I thought that didn't matter to Hybrids."

Curious eyes turned on him. "No- it doesn't matter to humans, and even then there's some limitations in which they do matter. This is one of those limitations," he mused, reaching over to pluck Demyx's drink from his hands, downing the glass in one shot.

That's about when Demyx fell asleep.

He woke several hours later.

"Are you okay?" a boy asked, eyes traveling down the blonde's frame in shock.

Demyx looked up, blinking slightly. "Wha'?"

The boy sighed. "You drank the punch, didn't you?" This earned him a half-hearted nod. "Will your parents mind that you're smashed?"

"Sm'sh'd?" Demyx mumbled. "I d'nno... M'be..."

With a blink, the boy held the taller boy's chin between nail-free fingers- a Hybrid. "Is this you're first time being drunk?" he asked, earning an unintelligible grumble. "Answer me, Demyx."

"M'be..."

Groan escaping between his lips, he tugged the taller boy into a standing position. "C'mon," he said, steadying the older boy as much as he could. "Let's get you someplace safe."

"S'fe?"

"The police rounds are coming by, soon. Everyone's heading home," the Hybrid sighed, scratching behind one Nekojin ear. It couldn't be Zexion- he always wore a beanie that his his ears. "From the look of things, you'll need a head start- which we already lost."

"S'rry..." Demyx managed.

"Don't worry about it," the stranger said, tugging him up by the belt.

...

There was a door with holes in it, then lime green carpet, yellow walls, and the smell of peanut butter cookies- or maybe they were sugar cookies. Demyx couldn't tell. Along with all this there was a familiar set of stairs, and soft, almost romantic lighting. The lime green wall was rather intimidating- just as it was during the day- and the violet was looking oh-so-inviting while the red was just there. Blue-violet carpets soft under sock-feet, and a phone call that didn't really make sense was made by Zexion- or someone that looked like Zexion. Demyx couldn't be sure. This Zexion was smiling and laughing.

"Seriously, Marluxia- its nothing. No one stopped us- we got home all right. Thanks for worrying."

He was talking to... Marluxia?

Marluxia?

Some things made sense to Demyx in that moment, and some things didn't. In fact, most, if not all, of it didn't make any sense what-so-ever. He hadn't caught all the words from the conversation, but... that was the thing. He didn't need to catch the whole thing. The fact was that you don't have to smile for a phone call. You just don't.

Zexion didn't smile. Not for anyone.

But he did for that phone call.

When the Nekojin hung up, a small sigh and an even smaller smile in place, one thing fit. And for some reason that bugged Demyx. Through his drunken stupor, something had gotten through- and he didn't like it.

They were in Zexion's room in Zexion's house sitting on Zexion's bed, where they had just finished calling Demyx's house to talk to Demyx's parents to tell them that Demyx couldn't make it home cause hang-out time had lasted too long. And Marluxia had been the one to pick up the phone for some reason. Marluxia was the one to make Zexion laugh, smile, and make him generally happy every time Demyx saw them together. And Demyx might not have been a genius, but he sure wasn't stupid. He knew how to call things when he saw them. He'd had his share of problems before, but this one took the cake. This one he couldn't do anything about.

"Demyx?" the smaller boy whispered. "Demyx, are you awake?"

He idly wondered how they got there. Zexion couldn't have carried him.

Could he?

"Demyx?"

He didn't really know. There were so many things he didn't know about Zexion- like what kind of person he was. Maybe this was one of those things.

"Your eyes are open- are you awake?"

His eyes were open- taking in the sight of Zexion soaked in moonlight, pale skin flawless, smooth.

Beautiful, he thought.

Zexion blinked, face contorting in confusion. "What did you just say?"

You're beautiful, he thought.

"You can't be serious."

He had been saying it out loud.

"Shit," Demyx mumbled, attempting to sit up. Hands pressed him down, though, and he found himself collapsing back onto a familiar, but not so familiar, bed. His head was splitting. "Where am I? What time is it?"

An exaggerated sigh escaped from the younger boy as he took a seat next to him. "You're at my house, and it's almost midnight."

"You couldn't take me home? I live closer to Sora than you do," the blonde managed around his hangover.

Zexion sighed. "I would have, but when I asked if your parents would mind if you were drunk you didn't exactly say no." Then he yawned. In a moment of what he could only explain to be madness, Demyx moved over on the bed. "What are you doing?"

"Lay down," the blonde ordered, crawling under the blankets despite how moving, as he learned from making room for the smaller boy on the bed, made him slightly nauseous.

Zexion blinked. "Why?"

With a sigh, Demyx tugged the blankets up to his neck. "You're tired and it's your bed."

"But you're sick- you get priority."

"And you're keeping me out of trouble," Demyx argued. "Now lay down."

After a few minutes of hesitation, Zexion crawled beneath the covers, the bed so small their backs pressed against each other. Demyx unconsciously pressed back against the weight, enjoying the heat the extra body produced. The Nekojin turned, ear brushing against the blonde's head, and something occurred to him. "Thank you," Zexion whispered.

"You're not wearing your hat," Demyx noted. "Why?"

"I'm not?" Zexion asked, reaching up to touch his ears. "Crap!" he exclaimed, jumping from the bed. The movement made Demyx's stomach lurch.

"What is it?"

"I must have lost it sometime during the party," he panicked, pacing back and forth. "No wonder everyone was looking at me weird!"

"Zexion- drop it. It's just a hat." Demyx groaned, clutching at his head.

"It's not just a hat, Demyx!" Zexion argued, tugging at his hair is his anger. "It's how I hide, okay?"

"Hide from what?"

"You!" Silence met these words, and a look of horror crossed Zexion's face. "Well- not from you, anyways. From Humans. I-" He cut off, looking down at the floor. "I don't want them to think I'm a freak."

And it finally clicked. Everything. Demyx always thought that Zexion got along with Naminé better than he did Kairi because Naminé was easier to handle. Because she was quieter, more refined, he found himself similar.

That just wasn't the case.

Maybe that's why he had smiled when he was talking to Marluxia, too. And Sora.

"You want to be human," Demyx deadpanned, looking from the bed to Zexion's ashen face. "That's why you hide your ears under that beanie all the time. You want to be human."

"Shut up. You've got it wrong."

"No." Demyx was on a roll, now- fueled by something unknown to him. He knew that some Hybrids weren't proud of what they were- that they were considered a 'lower being' and such. To be dangerous and just... less. Some of the Hybrids believed that they were less- because humans tell them they are less, fearing Hybrids thinking they are more- and that they were a hazard to those around them. "You're ashamed of yourself. Of your specie."

"Shut up, Demyx. You don't know what you're-"

"You hate yourself." There was no response to this. With a start, he realized what he said. "Zexion-"

"Just shut up." His voice was shaking, now. His arms were shaking. Heck- his entire body was shaking. Zexion hugged himself, then, hands clenched into his arms in an attempt to stop the shivers that wracked his body. "Just shut up!" It had been too long since...

The sound shot through Demyx's skull, ringing in his head as sharp as if it had been stuck there with a syringe, and poorly so. He winced. "Zexion- there's nothing wrong with who you-"

"I don't want to hear this from you," Zexion nearly shouted, backing into the wall.

Demyx blinked, confused. "Why?"

"Human," he hissed. And that was the end of it.

Grabbing the boy's arms, he tugged the boy towards the bed. A semi-familiar smell wafted up to his nose, but he ignored it. "Now go to sleep."

"No!" Zexion complained, tugging himself from the older boy's arms, but he was too strong for him. He struggled, then, turning this way and that within the boy's grip. "Let me go. Now."

"You're going to sleep. You need it more than I do," Demyx growled, pushing the boy towards the bed, only to have the boy squirm even more in his grip. There was a shock of pain, but it wasn't in his head. Glancing to his arm, Demyx felt himself go weak.

Then things went blank.

Zexion looked down on Demyx's limp body, almost in shock as to how the boy just lay there. He had passed out cold, and then he just lay there. Looking down at his hand, he was almost shocked to see his claws out.

Thin drops of blood trailed across them, ever so lightly. He looked from his claws to Demyx's arm, and there was only one thing that came to mind.

"Holy shit," he mused, running a hand through ruffled campaign grey hair. Today was not a good day.

It had been too long...

...

"What do you mean you lost your beanie?" Helen inquired, tugging at her own. "Zexion, if you don't have your beanie you can't go."

"I know."

"My hat's aren't configured for you- and neither are Satoshi's..." she mused. With a sigh, she turned back to the oven, pulling her latest batch of cookies- ones for the trip- from it. These were oatmeal. She offered him one, only to catch his arm in one hand, setting the cookie on the counter and reaching into her apron to pull out a syringe. The sight of the glowing blue liquid brought something along the line of relief to Zexion's eyes. He sighed as she jammed it into his arm, even though the needle stuck into a tendon in its path to his veins.

It had been too long...

"If you had your hat it wouldn't be nearly this painful. You know this," his mother growled. Snatched a cookie from the rack, she handed it to Zexion. The cookie had yet to be cooled, but it was merely a comforting heat in his hand- it was a side effect from what was inside the needle...

The blue liquid burned through his veins, then, shocking his system into submission as his mother withdrew the syringe. He fell to his knees, then, fingers twitching to reach for his eyes. They burned. He didn't remember it hurting this much.

Of course, this time he didn't have his guiding system on.

He clenched his eyes shut, willing the pain to stop.

It didn't. Looking down to his arm, he saw that the liquid had formed a lump under his skin in his vein- and it wasn't going away. He groaned. Standing up straight, Zexion looked his mother in the eyes- almost thanking her.

"If they try to take you, you know where to go," she mused, a motherly look overcoming her grimace. "The password this week is 'Lifestream', and we'll call next week with next week's password, okay?" She ruffled her sons hair, then.

"Good morning!" a voice called from the entrance to the kitchen. Zexion looked back to the boy, then dodged around him to get to the bathroom.

"Morning," he murmured, glancing down to the blonde's arm. He's bandaged it the night before. He took that moment to will down a blush.

Demyx was shirtless, after all, and the sight wasn't exactly unpleasant.

Rushing into the bathroom, Zexion quickly closed and locked the door behind him. Looking into the mirror, he saw the effects already taking place. His eyes had changed to an electric blue, staring sharply back at him (he idly wondered if Demyx noticed). Lifting his shirt from his body, the Nekojin found the muscles in his stomach taking form. Massaging the lump in his arm, he watched as the glowing blue spot under his skin dissipated until it was no longer there. Looking back to the mirror, he saw his skin take on a perfect shade of white, flawless, and it tightened over his body until he was the perfect picture of health. He could feel the cells moving, reforming, in his eyes as they changed into something else. Everything then when into stark relief. Fur glossed over, almost a perfect periwinkle blue, now. Ever since he'd agreed to start the injections his fur had begun changing color. His mother dyed hers, as electric blue was not a common color of fur.

Not that 'electric blue' was the actual name of the color.

He smirked, then, looking into the mirror with a smirk, before pulling the shirt back on and leaving the bathroom. His entire body throbbed, pain shooting through his pads with every step. He ignored it. It really had been too long, and it didn't help that he lost his guidance system. The substance could be dangerous without a guidance system, but as long as he got it within the next few days he'd be fine.

He idly thought maybe he was addicted, but pushed the thought aside.

Everyone got addicted to this stuff at one point. He was just lucky he got addicted while he could still recover from it.

Demyx, at that moment, was just concerned about electric blue eyes.

Ones that stared right through his soul.

...

In all honest truth, Zexion was glad he wasn't going on vacation. They would have been gone for two weeks with nothing but sand to keep them company. He didn't like sand. Or water. Especially water.

He chose to read in his time off, instead.

A knock on the front door drew him out of his book with a growl. Lifting himself from his bed, his body more cooperative than ever before, he dragged himself downstairs, through the living room, and opened the door with a glare. "What do you want?" he asked, voice no lower than a growl aimed towards a very scared looking blonde.

"Can I come in?"

"Mom and Dad are on vacation."

"But I'm not friends with them, am I?" He was let in, then. The heavy metal door, dents and all, slammed behind him. "So what's with the blue?" the blonde asked, reaching up to scratch the back of his head.

"Blue?" Zexion inquired, eyes narrowing with confusion.

Demyx sighed, gesturing to the boy's face. "Your eyes. You get colored contacts?"

Silence.

"Maybe."

Silence again.

"Look, I came to give you this, okay?" he groaned, holding out a green beanie to the boy. Zexion's green beanie.

The Nekojin smirked. "I was about to call Sora about that."

This earned a small laugh and a smile. "Yeah, well now you don't have to," Demyx mused, collapsing into one of the bean bag chairs.

"Thanks," the Nekojin mused, dropping into his own bean bag chair. They were silent for a while before Demyx spoke up.

"Question."

"Yeah?"

"How does a race that can't run half a mile without going into hyperventilation manage to rule the entire world for as long as they did?" he inquired. It had always bugged him, really.

"You mean back in the Hybrid era?"

"Yeah."

"So from year ninety-five to 1525," Zexion mused.

"That was the Hybrid era." Demyx chuckled.

With a sigh, Zexion fell further into his chair, careful not to sit on his tail wrong. He contemplated telling Demyx he just didn't know, but that would be a lie. "Mako," he admitted.

The blonde looked to Zexion in confusion, blinking in an attempt to clear the inner mess of his thoughts. "Mako?"

"Yeah; Mako," Zexion mused, shifting again in his seat. "It has an effect on us Hybrids that is unlike its effect on humans. You humans simply get sick, but we," he paused, shaking his head with a chuckle. "Super-human strength, almost. But the intake had to be almost constant. Back then we grew it in food, but now..."

"It's illegal," the blonde finished. "Is that why you guys are so weak?"

Zexion nodded. "Mako withdrawal, really, was our downfall. All the humans needed to do was cut off our Mako and we were sitting ducks."

There was silence after that. The blonde turned to look at the boy next to him, taking in the slim form of the grey furred Nekojin. It was at that moment that he knew it wasn't just the alcohol the night before that had made him think the boy beautiful.

Because he was, in his own way.

Flawless skin, slim fingers, small nose- Demyx tore his eyes from the boy, almost forcefully so. It was then that it really occurred to him what was happening.

He had been staring at Zexion, taking him in inch by flawless inch. Pale, perfect skin; eyes striking both in their glowing mako blue form or their usual mismatched violet yellow pair;

Either he was gay or Zexion was the only exception.

Something told him it was the latter.

...

Next post date: January 10th, 2010

End notes: Yeah- another last-minute part that added SO MUCH onto the plot! So... yeah. Thank you all for the reviews! You should all know that I modified chapters two (again) and three. A few things have changed, and this chapter will most likely be changed in the very near future, just because I really don't like it. Also- I'm posting another story in two weeks called 'Names'. It's a one-shot, so don't worry about me missing a post-date or something. I actually made sure to finish this chapter early in order to write it, so yeah... As for what went on this month... things have been calm, sorta. For once. This month I have gone through four notebooks, three choir concerts, two cartons of orange juice, and one relationship. (The orange juice was really good.) I also got a DSI! (Not allowed to touch it 'til Christmas, though...) So yeah- here's your preview!

Returning from the bathroom, Demyx made his way down the multi-colored walls that were Zexion's second floor. The dim lighting cast meager shadows on either side, almost as if it were casting a spell of romance over him. With a sigh, he traced a finger over one of the walls- blue. It had once been lavender. This new color was almost the exact shade of Zexion's fur- a dull mix of campaign grey and blue. So calm and soothing...

Brushing the thought aside, he made his way down the hall- second door on the left- and pushed Zexion's door open, only to be met with a shout.

"Hey- I'm changing, here!"

I'll let that torture you for a bit. Yes, I am smiling.

Review enough and I might just double the output of these things! (Read: Two posts a month, people!)

With love,

Besieged Infection

Update: End lines changed as of January 10, 2010