Title: Thnks Fr Th Mmrs
Disclaimer: If my friend and I owned the Kingdom Hearts series, this would be a movie and yaoi galore would be everywhere. Do you see the yaoi everywhere? Didn't think so.
Author's note: Parts of this story is based off real life events. Author Number Two Wrote like... everything this chapter. Worship her. Seriously.
Chapters Complete: 7 // 16?
Pairings: RikuSora, AxelRoxas, Zemyx, possible!JoshNeku (all we need is a transvestite, and we've got a Shakespearean comedy. Oh wait, the Pence Incident).
Warnings: particle physics references, implied homosexuality, Oprah and republican bashing (not reflective of our own views. But come on, everyone knows a liberal like Roxas is in this story. Everyone.). Parolee bashing, flamers, dungeons and dragons references, secret crushes, hints of molestation, insane scientists, college know-thy-neighbor games, public humiliation, Doctor Who obsessions, deranged fans, eccentric artists, FRAT PARTIES, hardcore sexual tension, LARPing, gambling, horrible relationship advice, hints of near suicide attempt, shooting best friends (yes, as in with a gun), highly improbable college theses and nose whistles.
Chapter Seven: Get Me Out of My Mind
Upon arrival at the observation grounds, Red was already within the personal space of Brown, staring at Brown's appearance in shock, speechless. Very rarely is Red quiet, and it put me into unease. Yellow2 was ignoring Red's staring, smiling happily for his cousin. Even Silver appeared dumbfounded. I have been expecting an event of this nature to occur, but my predictions did not estimate it being so soon.
Approximately a fortnight before, Brown changed his signature garb into something akin to Yellow2's. According to Brown, he was not coerced into making this change and was very pleased with his appearance. Now, Brown has disposed of his spectacles and wears contact lenses. It is causing discord.
At this moment, Yellow1 has partnered up with Yellow2 to bring about the changes in Brown. Red and myself are against these changes; I find them a waste of time and energy. Silver has not yet picked a side. He is torn between personal loyalty to Brown (their new romantic relationship) and his personal principles. I predict a release to the building tension shortly.
"I'm sorry, but I'm lost," said Axel "what made you suddenly decide that death wasn't preferable to preppy-Borg assimilation?"
"I just…I dunno, I just changed my mind? Seriously, Axel, they're just clothes."
Axel huffed a little impatiently, trying to think what could get a clear answer from the reticent Sora.
"And you weren't emotionally blackmailed by your manipulative bastard excuse for a cousin?"
"Subtlety really isn't your strong suit, is it?" said Roxas. "I'm sitting right here."
"Here's a new concept for you: no reason to mince words."
"Fine, ok, we can assume that the world has no use for diplomacy of any kind. No need for cultural sensitivity, compromise, consideration for feeling, or even plain politeness—it smacks of artificiality. We can use up all our energy arguing and refusing to concede any point, just so long as we're being honest!"
"Damn straight, sycophant-boy."
"See, that's exactly the kind of disregard for reason and reality that I'm talking about. The right wing would love you."
Sora flinched (Axel was fuming behind his irritating smirk), and scooted back before he was caught in a cross-fire, only to be hounded by Riku.
"So, how are you dealing with the contacts?" asked Riku, though Sora had the feeling he was really asking a lot more.
"They're fine. I'm getting used to them. I kind of like how they look."
"Kind of?" Riku raised an eyebrow. Sora caught on.
"I like them. Trust me, I'm not doing this for Roxas." He smiled into Riku's concern.
"And not for me? Because I think your geek-specs are really cute, actually."
Sora flushed, his prepared defense falling away. "Really? I—well—geez, I didn't—" he gulped down a deep breath, and Riku barely suppressed laughter. "No, not for you, either. I really just wanted a change. I can wear the glasses again if you want, though."
Riku smirked. "I like your eyes no matter what."
Sora dissolved into spluttering. Axel and Roxas, meanwhile, had dissolved into name-calling.
"Selfish obstructionist!"
"Spineless diplomat!"
"Self-destructive Kerouac wannabe!"
"Prius-driving, tennis-playing granola eater!"
"Oh, of course you would stoop to stereotypes you sexually deviant, perpetually directionless parolee!"
"Oh, way to exhibit intolerance for sexual minorities you classist, overgroomed, prick!"
"Guys…" said Sora cautiously.
"Child molester!"
"Anybody got a squirt bottle?" asked Demyx.
"Panda-humper!"
Zexion sighed, set down his notes, and prepared to abandon objectivity. He rummaged for a moment in his backpack, then produced the ray gun.
"For the love of God, not with innocent bystanders!" begged Demyx.
"Is that a ray gun?" asked Riku.
"Yep. Get under the table," said Sora, grabbing his wrist.
Zexion obliged Demyx and switched out the ray gun for a small aerosol can just as Axel turned to face the commotion, ears attuned to potential sexual innuendos. "Why, Sora, what are you going to do to him under—Zexion, what's tha—"
Zexion sprayed him in the face. Axel went still for a moment, then pitched backward, unconscious. Roxas stood gaping like a fish, which allowed Zexion to spray him as well. The diminutive scientist then neatly packed away his arsenal as his friends stared in silence.
Sora was the first to regain his wits. "Oh god, did you just poison my cousin?"
"No. This is an aerosolized tranquilizer."
"Are you allowed to carry that on campus?" squawked Demyx.
"There are no rules against it, as of yet. I developed it last week."
"Has it been tested?"
"On rabbits. Thank you for mentioning that—to think I nearly forgot to exhibit proper empiricism toward my first human test subjects." Zexion stooped and put two fingers on Axel's neck, turning up his other wrist to observe his watch. After repeating the procedure on Roxas and peering under both boys' eyelids, he began to scribble in his notebook. The group was, once more, at a loss for words. It was only when Zexion walked off, giving over-the-shoulder instructions ("let me know if there are any long term side effects, won't you?"), and leaving his victims supine where they fell, that several of the group began talking at once.
"First human subjects? He totally just poisoned my cousin!"
"Sometimes, I wonder why I date him…"
"Did anyone miss the fact that he apparently has an arsenal in his backpack?"
Axel woke in a broom closet. While this was not an unusual occurrence in his eventful life, there was something off about it this time—ah, yes. He wasn't feeling hung over. He rolled over to sit up, and planted one hand squarely on the chest of a still-unconscious Roxas.
After the ensuing, frantic attempt to recall how he'd come to be asleep in a closet with someone probably underage and definitely fuckable, he realized that they were both fully clothed, and the last thing he remembered was Zexion pointed what looked like a mace can at him. He leaned over Roxas' face and sniffed—a definite chemical odor. And—Axe body spray? Did the kid seriously wear cologne? Axel wondered how he must smell without it, that he'd feel compelled to wear cologne, probably natural and just fine, like rice and clean laundry—
Okay, he was sniffing the hair of an unconscious freshman. Was this a new low? No, there was that one time…right. Definitely not a new low.
Anyway. New set of problems, here. He was stuck in a broom closet—by the look of it, if his drug-and-booze-addled memories could be trusted, in the athletics building, in the northeast hallway—with a rack of heavy sports equipment tumbled across the doorway. And behind that, the door might be locked. And behind that, there might be frat boys waiting to gank him for hazing or male bonding or whatever weird shit they got up to. Because, he realized with some small alarm, he had no idea who had put him in this closet in the first place, or why. Could be friends who'd hit their limit of patience and decided to off him, could be opportunistic Greek Life. Could be both, he mused, thinking of Riku's evil smirk. Well, one issue at a time. He began shifting the equipment off the rack, tossing it behind him.
He belatedly realized that he'd forgotten something, and looked to see that most of the volleyballs he tossed were in fact burying Roxas. Good, he thought pettily. Little brat deserved it.
Two volleyballs later, he sighed, cursed his sense of obligation to friends like Sora, and turned to uncover the prep. Good, no obvious facial damage. Almost regrettable, since bruises would be so mortifying to Mr. Boyband, but on the other hand, a relief. It didn't do to spoil beauty.
Okay, where did that thought come from? A moment more of frantic reminiscence, before Axel decided that it was just the side effect of reading too much Oscar Wilde lately for that term paper. Blonde catamites on the brain. Not that he'd ever want Roxas as a catamite. Nope.
Right, better get back to work on the door. The shelf was empty, he just had to get his shoulders under it to shift it back on it's legs…Okay, done, and the door was unlocked! That reduced the chances of this being either an assassination attempt or hazing prelude considerably. He took two steps into the hall before a pang of conscience hit. Roxas was still unconscious on the floor. He couldn't leave him, could he? No, he totally could. Let rich boy take care of himself for once…no, he couldn't. He went back inside.
God, the kid was still like a limp noodle. The dose must have hit him harder since he was such a shrimp. He wasn't that bad like this, peaceful instead of spewing PC jargon and holding his self-righteous nose in the air. He was a smart kid, too, able to hold his own against a student four years older than himself, and completely in tune with how Sora ticked—it made no sense to Axel how someone so apparently perceptive could buy into the sort of shallow lip service preps loved to churn out in the place of real activism. Maybe if he hadn't been born so fucking sheltered, he could be effectual—come to think, it was a little classist of Axel himself to consider him hopeless just because—
He was having a philosophical exploration in a broom closet. And he was still standing over an unconscious freshman. Of all the things he could be doing right now, he was fucking contemplating.
He glanced around. No cameras. This was not another Pence incident. He could conceivably put his contemplating on hold.
Oh come on, Axel, he berated himself, are you seriously thinking that? This kid is odious, most of the time. He is every privileged, watered-down impulse that you hate.
And for all that, not half bad. Tolerable, especially with Sora around. Not to mention cute. In a very clean, wholesome way. He stood up, chuckled at himself. Was he seriously sizing up a kid who would inevitably end up marrying an upper-middle-class, brunette (she would have to be brunette), early childhood psychologist and living in the suburbs? Just how long had it been since he'd been laid? Three weeks. Well, no wonder. And it was healthy to fantasize about the unattainable, sometimes. Okay. Good to have that settled.
He hoisted Roxas over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, stepped into the hall, and listened. Voices in the North Gym. He walked toward them.
"So, it's actually really easy to dance, because you don't have to memorize any steps. You just move like you feel like moving."
"I don't feel like moving. I feel like hiding in a hole."
"Lemme see…what about alone in your room?" Suggested Riku. "Have you ever danced around while you're getting dressed? You know, used your hairbrush as a mic or something?"
Sora looked at him surprised.
Riku smiled. "You can't imagine a jock dancing around in his underwear?"
"I didn't expect you to tell me about it." He was smiling shyly, now.
Riku smirked a little more mischievously. "You thinking about me in my underwear?"
"NO!" Sora tried to hold Riku's gaze, couldn't, and ended up scuttling in a panicked little circle before clutching the hem of his shirt and blushing.
Riku felt a surge of affection, grabbed Sora's hand, twirled him once, and pulled him close. He kissed him on the forehead, and an idea struck. "Have you ever taken Swing dancing or Ballroom, or anything like that?"
"Um. Roxas did." Sora looked more embarrassed. "I just don't know how to do anything."
"Hey, don't be embarrassed, you're not the one who had to take Ballroom to improve his coordination. But hey, that is a more organized kind of dance. If you don't like improvising, it gives you some steps to work with."
"But that's still kind of…geeky. Old fashioned."
"Have you ever seen a proper tango? Dead sexy. I hear there's a Ballroom class on Wednesdays at seven."
"Okay," Sora was actually smiling now. "You don't have to do this for me."
"You don't think you could pick a more inconspicuous place to cuddle? I mean, Riku's got a single," Axel banged the doors open and strode into the gym. "Unless you're into exhibitionism."
"Sorry, 'fraid you're alone on that one," retorted Riku.
A muffled moan came from over Axel's shoulder. "Why'ma…wha? Who? Gah! Axel, get your wandering hands away from me!"
Axel dropped him unceremoniously. "I like you better when you are unconscious and at my mercy."
"Date rape isn't funny! And what did you do to me?"
Riku tried to step in diplomatically. "Zexion sedated you. For which I was immensely relieved."
Roxas, still bleary, glared at the sophomore. "Where are we, and what have you been doing unsupervised with my cousin?"
Riku gave him a wouldn't-you-like-to-know grade smirk. Sora spluttered, "He's…teaching me to dance. Because I was so hopeless at the party."
"I never said you were hopeless at the party," Riku said, concerned.
"No, but I know I was—" the withdrawn look came back to his face, but he drowned it in a sunny smile before Riku could protest. "I think even my posture is getting better, Rox, I'm not slouching so much."
"Jesus, how much Stockholm Syndrome do you have, Sora?" exclaimed Axel. "What the hell are you telling him?" He shouted at the blond.
"Just to be confident instead of your ever-approving, cowed audience! Have you ever thought that maybe you're the one brainwashing him with your outrageous, constant demands for attention?"
"Guys, I'm here," said Sora quietly.
"I'm—you—you're the conformist corporate whore here! And your Jedi mind tricks won't work on me!"
"You're a bigoted rebel without a cause who sees in stereotypes! That's why you're resisting the perfectly natural individual growth that Sora is undergoing right now."
"Now see, that's just what I'm talking about! You can't trust a man who says things like 'natural individual growth'."
"Oh, thank you, Anti-intellectual peanut gallery. Don't you have some textbooks in Texas to revise?"
"Academic elitist!"
"Says the Harvard grad!"
Riku had to shout to be heard. "Guys, Zexion gave me the tranquilizer and I'm not afraid to use it!"
Both combatants froze. They looked all over Riku's person for signs of the aerosol can.
"Okay, that was a lie. But it made you shut up. You're scaring Sora."
"Where is he, by the way?" Axel scratched his wild hair.
They scanned the gym. No trace of the freshman.
"If he's gone into hiding, I'm going to kill you both slowly," growled Riku.