Sora stared forlornly at the crying blonde on his doorstep, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Oh, dear. What's he done this time?" he asked, yawning and ushering the boy inside.

Roxas sniffled and buried his head in his friend's shoulder. "His ex is sleeping in our house!" he moaned through the folds of Sora's shirt. "And he wouldn't talk to me about it– not once! I went to brush my teeth and he fell asleep!"

"Maybe he was tired…" the half-conscious brunette offered, a little tired of Roxas's overdramatic and often tear-stained midnight visits.

"I don't think…he's serious…about me." The blonde choked out between sobs.

Sora rolled his eyes, becoming increasingly awake (among other things). "Gee, Rox, how long did it take you to figure that out?"

"Don't be a smartass, Sora."

"Then be smart."

Roxas fell silent; his crying ceased. He pulled away from Sora and quietly took a seat on the couch, folding his hands in his lap. "Can I stay here for a while?"

"Well, sure, but do you really think the fight will last that long?" The brunette closed the door and headed to the kitchen to pour his friend a glass of milk.

The blonde shook his head, a determined glint in his eye. "This isn't a fight. It's over."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You followed them?" I asked, fighting the urge to put a hand on my hip. Absolutely not. "Xigbar, you can't just waltz in here and start acting like my personal detective."

"Hey, you have a right to know, dude." The gun fanatic shrugged and chuckled. "The blonde…he's not your type, trust me."

I sighed and didn't put a hand on my hip (HA). "How do you know that? Are you psychic now?" I paused as the front door started to open; Roxas was home. Quickly, I whispered, "We'll finish this later. Get home!" and hung up the phone.

"Well, Roxie, you're home ear-" Frozen in my tracks, I could do nothing but point dumbly at the man in my kitchen. "Demyx?"

The blonde blinked, confused at my confusion. "Well, I…uh…sorry, the front door was open and…I guess your doorbell's broken…"

That it was. I'd promised to fix it, but…

"It's been dead for a while, don't worry about it." I forced a smile and ran a hand through my hair. "So, why are you even out so late?"

The band director beamed. "I'm picking up my mother from the airport in the morning, and I'd be delighted if you came with me."

Oh dear.

"Hey, Demy, you know that I haven't broken up with Roxas yet, right?" I muttered, leaning against the counter.

He frowned and crossed his arms. "I thought he broke up with you earlier?"

"Not that I know of…" I looked around the kitchen for any sign of a breakup note. Nothing. "Where did you hear that?"

The musician scratched his head and tapped his foot rhythmically on the ground. "That's odd…Sora called and said that Roxas wasn't going to be in class for a few days, and when I asked him why, he said it was because Roxas had just broken up with you and needed to move all of his stuff to Sora's house." He beamed at me. "And that's why I came over!"

I think my jaw touched the floor.

"That's…" convenient. "I'd be happy to accompany you to the airport tomorrow, Demyx."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Larxene glared at her alarm clock. Five o'clock. Just fucking be five o'clock.

Then she could get up and preoccupy herself with getting ready for work, which was infinitely better than the dream-hell she'd just jarred herself out of.

Four-thirty.

Four thirty-one.

Four thirty-one and twenty-three seconds.

Screw it.

She sat up a bit too quickly and put a hand to her forehead, blinking rapidly. A hangover. Just what she needed. She glared at the wall and waited for her head to stop throbbing.

Xigbar. What a fucking loser. She still didn't know why she'd told him where Demyx was. Hell, she didn't even know the guy very well; he was just 'Axel's Creepy Ex'. And she'd been too drunk to care whether his intentions were pure or not.

Of course, she knew that he wouldn't harm the musician, but she also knew that he'd dated me; and to her, that meant that Xigbar must have been mentally unstable to some extent (which was, you know, a really big compliment).

As if it was acting on some cruel cue, the phone started ringing. Larxene groaned disapprovingly and reached for it, half-wanting to answer it and half-wanting to throw it across the room.

"Hello?" Logic won.

"Hey, Larx." A low voice said, somewhat guiltily. "How's it going?"

"…Marluxia?" she asked, astonished that he was contacting her. "Why the hell are you calling?"

He gnawed on his lip, leaning against his kitchen counter. "I uh…I wanted to catch you before you left for work."

"Well, you did a great fucking job. I was sleeping." She lied, grinning satisfactorily when she heard him clear his throat nervously.

"Oh, sorry…" he paused, cursing himself mentally. Any ground given to Larxene would be used to his ultimate disadvantage, and he knew it. "Can I come over?"

It was her turn to pause; she almost dropped the phone. "Why?"

"I want to talk to you."

"Whatever." She hung up the receiver. Her head was hurting too bad for a phone argument. At least in person she could kick him in the balls.