54.
Wednesday
Sora didn't end up telling Roxas about the Axel-getting-a-blowjob-in-his-car-incident. Instead, the confirmation of their relationship status became clearer a few days later, when Sora and Riku were in the former's room. Loud cackling was heard through the wall.
Roxas burst into the room, not three seconds later. He clearly hadn't showered in some time, let alone been out of bed considering the bed-head and lack of a shirt. He didn't bother looking up at the ones in the room, eyes only ever leaving the phone in his hand to shut when the laughter became too intense.
"Bro! Check-haha..check this out," he gasped, holding his bare stomach as it jiggled and spasmed. All Sora and Riku could do was watch in silence, since the humour was clearly sardonic. Riku muted the television. "'Hey Roxy, where were you at lunch? Wanna hang out?'" More laughter. And rereading the text message to himself for the eighth time.
"Just because I haven't called you to pick me up in the mornings, it's taken you three days to notice I haven't been at school? You fucking asshole..." Roxas looked up to his brother and Riku, both blank-faced. His laughter died down but not out as he tried to compose himself to the point of coherency. "Sorry, sorry," he waved his hands. "I just needed to vent." Roxas ran his hand through his hair, which really did needed to be washed. "As you were." He turned to leave.
"Roxas!" Sora called, and the blond turned back around. "Are you going to go out with him tonight?" Because then the blowjob-car-incident just had to be brought up if that were to be the case.
"Hell no! I'm going to ignore him and pretend I was sleeping. Or out someplace where I didn't hear my phone beep." Roxas' eyes narrowed in imaginative thought, and it stunned Sora, already nervous with his words.
"...Are you guys still going out?"
"Of course."
Sora stared numbly as Roxas closed the door behind him, at a loss for anything else to say. The next thing he registered was Riku comfortingly patting his arm. Sora blinked. "...I'm confused."
"Zexy...?"
The slate-haired teen sat up and approached the desk. He looked at the problem in the textbook then down to Demyx's work on the page, and circled the part where Demyx had gone wrong. He stepped back to watch the teen start to have another go.
Today's procedure went as follows: There would be silence. This was Demyx reading through the problem and thinking it over. Then there would be the rhythmic tapping of calculator keys, followed by the quiet scratching of lead against paper. After all of this, Demyx would put his arm over the page he was in and flip to the back pages of the textbook where all the answers were. And if there was an answer that did not match the one he'd just found: 'Zexy!' And Zexion would get up from Demyx's bed and go help him.
"Demyx, that's not how you multiply binomials."
"Oh, shit…" More scribbling.
Zexion returned to his designated study spot: Demyx's bed.
He re-opened the English textbook and placed it in his lap but instead of beginning to identify the themes he'd just read in The Jade Peony, he looked over to Demyx working at his desk. He spied him carefully, taking in all the features he'd memorized: the muscles that rippled between his shoulder and neck as he wrote, the way his eyes would dance across the pages, the desk-lamp that made his skin glow. Demyx. He had his mathematics textbook open beside his notebook and a scientific calculator beside his writing hand.
Demyx couldn't study in his own bed. He'd get too relaxed and fall asleep. But for someone like Zexion, whose posture was always perfect and who had a focus capability like no other, it didn't seem to matter where he would study; work would always be done. And as it was nearing five o'clock, Zexion's homework for the rest of the week was complete.
Mentally revisiting his checklist, the next item was to finish up his university applications: an essay for three of them, the questionnaire for one, put together his portfolio and tailor it for two different ones, and then he'd have to log in and check his status for-
The image, or rather, clip, of Demyx confessing he'd kissed Saix spontaneously played in his mind, the mental checklist now falling into oblivion.
His feelings were still undecided concerning the whole ordeal. It'd been over a week, and he'd kept coming up with nothing. No emotional response regarded the matter, as if it were some fact he'd just learned from a textbook. So if no feelings about it existed, why did the memory of that moment keep re-occurring?
Since then, all he'd really done was watch Demyx a little closer, trying to rationalize this thing they called their relationship. Think of it in the most bare of terms. What was it? What was it built on? What did it mean? Why did people who are in a relationship take it further and call it marriage? What did it mean to be in love with someone?
No amount of Wikipedia could help him with this. Just...
Demyx.
Demyx.
Between the two of them, Demyx was the one who seemed to understand these kinds of things. These matters of the heart.
Demyx.
Unfortunately, the one who could possibly help him out of this situation seemed to be the cause of the situation.
"Demyx."
The blond paused in his writing to look up at his boyfriend but Zexion was already pulling him up out of the roll-y chair, across the room and onto the bed.
Zexion understood the chemistry of lust and the mechanics of sex. He understood the science of life. But no one has ever told him what to do when someone 'different' from the rest comes into your life. No textbook has ever taught him if it was right or wrong to feel the things he's undoubtedly felt because of Demyx.
Zexion's books fell off the bed, along with some pillows. Clothing was pushed out of the way. Trembling hands mapped out their bodies. Demyx breathes unsteadily.
It couldn't be done. It can't be gone about that way.
In bed with Demyx, Zexion let go of the matter, once again.
Roxas stared at the phone on his bed beside him. The Birthday Massacre remix of Never Wanted to Dance played quietly in the corner of his room. Stupid Axel... The text from him had come at 3:15 and it was almost 9:30. He supposed that was long enough.
To: Axel
Hey, I'm pretty busy for a while, but why don't I come to your game on sat?
We can hang out after or something.
-Send-
He hadn't been to school since Friday, so that made five days that he'd been at home. Stupid Axel. Why did it take three days to notice he was gone? Roxas sighed. Why did it take not noticing him to tip him off that Axel was just not that into him?
Fr: Axel
Cool :)
Sent: 10:46PM on /03/17/10/
