-blinks- Me? Update the same fic twice in one month? Scandalous! That aside, this chapter was fairly easy to write. Roxas invaded my brain and wrote it for me, basically. I can't complain. Why would I?
This whole chapter is pretty much Roxas going off on random tangents and ranting about .. well, everything. I hope someone else enjoys it as much as I do. X3
Oh! And no one can complain about a short chapter this time. It's twice as long as the first two! So there!
Did I just .. really?
I stared at the door to the bar as it swung shut, separating me not only from the crisp cool of early autumn, but from the enigmatic redhead as well.
Surely I just imagined it.
I threw down a bill, neither paying attention to how much it was nor caring if I was leaving a more than generous tip as I stood and wove carefully through the crowd, taking care not to come in contact with any of them.
I don't let people I don't know touch me.
It's one of my .. quirks, I guess you could say. Which is why I found myself so flustered at the fact I let Axel come within two feet of me, let alone trail his finger down the side of my face.
What the fuck, man?
Momentary lapse in judgment, maybe? I rolled that thought around in my head as I stood on the curb and hailed a taxi. Well, tried to hail a taxi. The bastards all seemed to be ignoring me.
I was pretty sure I looked ready to murder someone by the time one of the yellow cabs pulled up in front of me. The cabbie himself appeared afraid to look at me, much less ask me where I wanted to go. I smirked to myself and saved him the trouble.
Hey, I can be nice sometimes. If I'm given a good enough reason, that is.
I quietly contemplated the evening's events on the ride to my campus apartment. Axel was .. interesting, to say the least. In the short time I'd spent in his company tonight, I was certain of several things. One being that he was obsessive-compulsive when it came to flipping that goddamned lighter open and closed. Chances were that if he carried a lighter, he smoked.
I don't like smokers.
They always reek of cigarette smoke, which has never really been a particularly tolerable smell for me in the first place. They have that dry, hacking cough that sounds like they have a huge hairball lodged in their throat. And I couldn't be positive of this since it had never happened to me, but I imagined kissing them would taste something akin to licking an ashtray.
Utterly disgusting. I could only imagine how many other undesirable habits he must have.
Another thing I was fairly certain of was that he was gay. At the very least, bisexual, what with that whole bit about other men finding me attractive. What should I care? Unless, for some obscure reason, he thought I was gay.
I almost laughed out loud.
Granted, I don't base physical attraction on gender alone, it was amusing to think I might come off that way to someone else. Which made me start to wonder ..
Was he interested in me?
How intriguing.
The cab jolted to a stop in front of my apartment not a moment too soon. Not only do I loathe the idea of strangers invading my personal bubble, I also can't stand being in an enclosed space for too long. Especially if that enclosed space reeks of urine.
God, I fucking hate New York.
I trudged slowly up the front steps of the building, wondering idly if I was going to have the apartment to myself. Not that it really made a difference if my roommate was there, seeing as he kept to himself most of the time.
Zexion was an English major with a focus on Literature. He always had his nose buried in a book, quietly reciting forgotten poetry to himself or taking notes on a reading assignment for class. He rarely spoke unless he had something important to say or it was out of necessity. He'd been my roommate for the past two years, and to be honest, I don't believe I could have asked for a better one.
He was quiet. I liked him.
Before I even reached the door, the wailing screech of an electric guitar assaulted my ears and I knew it was not going to be one of those silent, peaceful evenings.
Demyx, I groaned inwardly. Damn.
The musician frequented our apartment more than I'd care to admit. He was always perched on the edge of the couch, guitar balanced carefully in his lap, scribbling furiously on crumpled sheet music with such an intense mask of concentration pasted across his face that at times I could have sworn I heard the gears in his head turning.
He also just happened to be Zexion's significant other.
He's a nice kid, don't get me wrong. He's all smiles and sunshine--but unfortunately for me, the sun only shines for Demyx when he's playing his guitar, and he only smiles when he's successfully drowned out all other sound on our floor with his music. It had become second nature for me to constantly carry a pair of foam earplugs as a result.
I stood just outside the entrance to the apartment, steeling myself against the unfiltered noise that waited to accost me on the other side. It would figure he would choose tonight to drag the amp across the hall; tonight, when I had a twenty page paper to finish and a Psych test to study for.
If I get lower than an A, I thought maliciously, I'm going to shove the neck of that guitar so far up your ass you'll be able to play the chords with your tonsils.
A bit too harsh, you think? Not likely. I take my education far too seriously to let anything get in the way of my graduating at the top of my class.
I pushed the door open, shrugging out of my jacket and tossing it onto a nearby chair. As I'd expected, the sandy blonde was perched precariously on the arm of the sofa, pondering the sheets in front of him with clear determination. He glanced up, gave me a half-hearted wave and returned his attention to the rumpled pages.
I was a bit surprised, honestly. His normal greeting consisted of a very energetic exclamation of "Hey, Roxas!" followed immediately by a request to study his latest piece. Can't say that I was particularly disappointed by the change.
Maybe I'll get my shit done, after all.
I cringed when the guitar screeched again.
Then again .. maybe not.
Zexion offered a small, apologetic smile from his place beside the musician, resting his book in his lap. "He said he was having trouble finishing this one section," he said softly, shifting his gaze to Demyx's hands as they resumed their fevered dance across the page. A perplexed frown furrowed his brow.
"And for some reason, he says I inspire him."
"You do inspire me," Demyx interjected distractedly, eyes never leaving the mess of notes in front of him. He chewed a corner of his lip thoughtfully. "You're like .. my muse, or something. The music practically writes itself when I'm around you."
"I suppose that's why you're constantly taking up space in my apartment, then?" I threw in sarcastically, a sardonic grin spreading across my face of its own accord. "Why don't you drag him across the hall every once in a while?"
"Mm," the musician hummed in reply. He waved a dismissive hand. "The acoustics are better over here."
I opened my mouth to retort only to close it, shaking my head. Arguing with him was a complete waste of time. Once he had his heart set on something, you couldn't move him with an iron fist.
An admirable quality, yes, but at the same time incredibly nerve-wracking when you're trying to finish a term paper at three in the morning.
"Try to keep it down then, will you? I have a test to study for." I looked to Zexion, who nodded mutely, a smile ghosting his features as he spoke in Demyx's ear. The sandy blonde frowned, but nodded in return, and I took that as a sign that the rest of my evening was going to be a bit less noisy than I'd originally feared.
We'll see how long it lasts.
I left the lovers to their own devices, striding slowly down the dark hallway to my bedroom.
My sanctuary. My safe haven. My comfort zone. Agitation all but melted away as I kicked off my shoes and fell back across the bed.
The ceiling and I had a staring contest as I pondered which to tackle first; the last two pages of my paper or memorizing paraphilias. The ceiling said paper. I was inclined to agree.
Now, before anyone starts questioning the state of my sanity, bear this in mind; I'm a Psychology major. I'm programmed to see things from an entirely different perspective. My brain is in a perpetual state of analysis, seeking to identify the catalyst that sets the world in motion. I'm inquisitive. I'm a deep thinker.
I'm also just slightly neurotic.
Acidic green eyes invaded my thoughts as I reached for my laptop and pulled up the correct file. I paused, perplexed by the sudden intrusion.
What is it about you?
I pictured his face--pale skin, that wickedly easy smile, the obscure tattoos beneath his eyes. He was something, all right, but that didn't explain why I suddenly couldn't get him out of my head. I watched the cursor on the screen, hearing the click of a Zippo in time with its steady blinking.
Maybe I am going crazy.
A string of curses murmured by an irritated musician, followed by soothing words whispered by a slate-haired bookworm brought me out of my trance and I focused once again on the task at hand.
As I began to type, I couldn't help wondering if I would ever fully understand why I found him so intriguing, or if he was destined to remain an enigma, too far beyond even my superior comprehension.
Only time would tell.
Yes, Roxas is neurotic. We call him NeuRoxas now. It's so endearing.
And didn't I say he was cocky? Goodness.
