Demyx woke up that morning in a grey world. Grey light was filtering into the bedroom from the grey sky outside, dulling everything to infinite shades of grey. All that grey wasn't exactly encouragement to get out of bed; he figured it wasn't even dawn yet. Ah, dawn; how unfamiliar it had become, and yet how wonderful to have an official, visual transition from night into day. And how nice to have it go slowly enough that you could tell when you should wake up, when you could go back to sleep, and when you could sleep for a while and get up in an hour or so. Or when you were still on vacation and could sleep all day if you felt like it, because a day as grey as this didn't hold much promise of being worth waking up for.

Of course, he had pretty much invited Roxas over for the afternoon. Balls.

Well, he'd told Roxas to show up no earlier than 10:00 AM castle time, which was about 1:00 PM on this world. Time enough for him to sleep in some more and still get up and around in time. Mumbling something under his breath that didn't bear any resemblance to coherent speech, he rolled over and let his eyes drift closed again, trying to find a pleasant dream-world that would improve on the grey world outside the cabin. He found himself on some kind of ski-lift-slash-amusement-park-ride with Axel and Roxas, whose configuration reminded him of a roller coaster he'd been on months ago. Fortunately, this ride moved at a much more sedate pace than the coaster had, or else Axel and Roxas would have been sick all over themselves and probably him. It had the track of a roller coaster, but somehow maintained the pace of a ski lift without defying the dream laws of physics. At low speed, they were carried over a sweeping landscape of trees and lakes, to admire the view quite happily, until they were suddenly taken into a sterile white building to watch a stupid puppet show about personal safety or something. While they were sitting buckled into their seats, dumbstruck and bored sick by what the awesome ride had come to, Axel suddenly noticed something a lot more interesting beneath them. Demyx leaned over the side of the...ride vehicle or whatever...to get a better look at whatever he was pointing at.

Thump!

All right. Fuck this day. Apparently sleeping it away wasn't going to be an option either. As Demyx picked himself up off the floor, marginally grateful that no one was around to see or hear him fall out of bed, he paused to stare out the window for several moments. It was probably broad daylight in theory by now, but the sky was blanketed in clouds, and the air so thick with snow he could barely see the next house over. Oh, this was perfect; another blizzard. Already feeling cold for no good reason, Demyx stumbled into the kitchen to make himself some hot chocolate, then sat down on the couch and wrapped up in a blanket to stare blankly at some cheery morning show on TV. The cheerfulness of the show's hosts, guests, and content only made him that much crankier, almost as if their cheer was a personal insult. Eventually, he turned it off in favor of staring at a blank screen for a while. That cheered him up about as much as might have been expected.

This is gonna be one of those days, he decided quickly. One of those days where he had nothing better to do than kick back and lounge around, but not in a good way - more like an enforced way. Like he was sick, too sick to go on duty or do anything that required much effort or concentration, but not so sick that he actually wanted to lie around and do nothing all day. Slacking off was just no fun when it wasn't his free choice. He wanted to be up and doing, but there was just nothing to do. With a sigh, he turned the TV back on and tried to find a less obnoxiously chipper show; eventually, he settled on some show about dog training that only interested him insofar as it distracted him. It wasn't much, but it took an effort to pry himself away from it to shower and dress - it was easily the most interesting thing going.

Why didn't he stop by the castle and tell Roxas sorry, but he was in no mood for company today? Why didn't he just cut this vacation short and go back to the castle? Well, because he'd twisted too many arms and spent too much time begging for it to just give it up, but what was the point if it was no longer fun?

At least it beats chasing Heartless through the mud.

Then again, chasing Heartless through the mud would be something to do.

What time was it, anyway? 9:30. Balls. No later than that. He still had three and a half hours before Roxas got here; Roxas wouldn't even be awake yet. What was he going to do with himself for three and a half dingy grey hours? He could go outside and play in the snow, if it wasn't a fucking blizzard outside. Freezing to death once was more than enough. He could go into one of the nearby towns, again, if not for the fucking blizzard. Stressful driving conditions much? It was practically a recipe for triggering a seizure behind the wheel. They came from a wintertime car accident. He didn't want to think what a second might do to him. He could cook himself something, except...nothing seemed good right now. Not even a simple bowl of cereal. He could play sitar, except he was in one of those moods that seemed to stifle all creativity. He could sit around and watch the boring shit on TV, which really seemed the only viable option, aside from going back to bed. Bo-ring.

Next time I get a chance to go on vacation, he promised himself, if I'm dumb enough to go for the cabin-retreat thing again, I am going to bring some books or a DVD player or something. And maybe pick a world where it's summer. Compared to this bloody blizzard, I would love a good thunderstorm.

Fuck it. If he didn't eat something eventually, he'd be risking a seizure. And he really ought to at least make something for Roxas, seeing as he'd presumably be missing lunch at the castle. Eh, blah. He felt beyond uninspired. With a grunt, he started flipping channels again, trying to find a cooking show or something. All he could find was barbecue. Fucking meat. Roxas would eat it, surely, but Demyx refused to serve his friends anything he wouldn't eat himself. Muttering himself, he turned the TV off again, then wandered into the kitchen to see if maybe anything in there could inspire him. Not likely; he'd bought everything in there just a few days ago. No, he decided as he sorted through all the stuff he'd shoved in the fridge and pantry, there was no inspiration here. With a sigh, he returned to the living room, turned the TV back on, and flopped on the floor. Seriously, what better did he have to do?

"Demyx? Are...you okay?"

Demyx ignored those words, not quite sure whether he was awake or misinterpreting what he was hearing from the TV or half-asleep and imagining things or fast asleep and dreaming. It wasn't until someone started shaking his shoulder that he was forced to acknowledge that he was no longer alone in the room. "Ah, balls, what time is it?" he grunted, rolling over and looking at his watch. 1:04 - he must have fallen asleep on the floor. "Fuck it. I must have fallen asleep here..."

"Good," Roxas said sincerely, sitting down on the floor next to him. "When I came in and saw you lying there, I thought you'd had a seizure or something."

"No such luck," Demyx grunted, rolling back into a sitting position and rubbing his eyes. "I was only lying there because it was a change of pace from lying on the couch."

Roxas nodded, but he still didn't look particularly convinced. "How's your head?" he asked in a concerned tone. "I mean, you did hit it pretty hard..."

"Not that hard. And that was two days ago." Demyx sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose between two fingers. "So...hi."

"Hi." There was a very, very long moment of silence. "So...um...anything better on TV?"

"Not that I've found so far," Demyx grunted. "You hungry?" He wasn't, nor was he in a mood to cook, but it seemed polite to offer.

"Not really." Another long silent stretch. "...Sorry for being a jackass yesterday."

"That's all right. I wasn't being much better." Demyx sighed, staring blankly at the TV while some chipper woman fried chicken wings. "...Wonder if any pizza places in the area would be willing to deliver in this shit. There is a local phone book somewhere around here."

"I wouldn't. I'd hate to be responsible for the death of some poor delivery guy." Roxas flopped on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. "Are you hungry or something? 'Cause...I could maybe make something..."

"Don't bullshit me, Roxas; you can't cook for shit," Demyx grunted. "No, I'm not particularly hungry. I do appreciate the offer, though." He sighed and stood all the way up. "I should make something. I haven't eaten since breakfast -" or all day, really, but Roxas didn't need to know that - "and you're bound to get hungry later. I'll make something simple. Rice or something."

"All right," Roxas said, remote in hand; now he was busily flicking through the channels. "...There really is nothing on. You want me to go get my PS3 so we can watch DVDs or something? Or I could bring back a board game - better than sitting around and watching it snow."

Demyx paused in the kitchen door, blinking, then managed a little smile, even though Roxas couldn't see it. "Yeah. That sounds good."

AN: Now that I'm back to updating things I've left alone for ages. All right, this wasn't abandoned half as long as Stronger than Whiskey, but now seemed as good a time as any to get back to it.

Number 19, Gray.