OblivionX

-5-

Bizz'd

Alice Alice, the Queen is raging... Hmm hmm... Cheshire cat with his smile fading... we're curious to know which hole you followed the white rabbit down..."

"You found a new singer?"

Dulor sat in his usual window, observing the rain lashing at the glass furiously. The weather was in the habit of being the opposite of his fortunes, it seemed. The manager sipped his coffee cheerfully, saying, "My dear Relena, you should be more informed than the press about my band's condition by now."

"Spit it out, asshole."

"Read a magazine, Madame."

"You actually support that crap?"

Dulor Leblanc winced up at his friend. "They can hardly get something as large as this wrong, Rell."

"Medy Nocturne from across the street really is the new vocalist of OblivionX?! I don't believe you!"

"They had pictures, my dear- What do you mean?"

Relena threw down her empty tray to the table and stomped her foot angrily.

"I've been your damned waitress for years, Leblanc, and I- I... You knew I wanted to sing!"

Dulor opened his mouth to protest, although what he was going to say he didn't know, when abruptly she said ominously, "Your coffee is almost empty," and whirled to go get him another.

He closed it with an audible snap.

Dulor sighed. To his dismay, he noticed that the rain was clearing up.

When she came back, setting her tray down with a clash, he ventured, "You know, there is a position open that you might be able to fill. With Marluxia gone..."

She brightened considerably. "Really?"

Dulor winced. "We need a new makeup artist."

Rell shrieked and threw his coffee at him.

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Demyx had redecorated his room. Every inch of the walls were covered in posters. He'd moved things around and added things here and there. The most notable thing being a huge beanbag chair he'd relocated from his apartment. Back then, he'd been poor as dirt, but... He needed it. So there it was.

Other things had been moved around, and glass figurines had been placed on every flat surface not already occupied. Though the room was still the same, in general, Demyx had touched it and made it his own.

Now the room was dark, but Demyx was not asleep. In the back of the room, in a corner surrounded by a fortress of blankets and pillows he sat. There was a soft glow visible from inside, blue light leaking through fabric. Only the scratching noise of pen on paper broke the silence.

Dulor stood outside the door to Medy's room- Demyx's, now, even more formerly Marluxia's- (Gods, how many times could a room change owners if they only kept it for a few months?) and contemplated going in.

Most likely, Demyx was asleep.

He opened the door anyway.

Inside, the room was mostly dark, but a vague glow lit the walls, rendering them entirely different from the room's previous owner. Posters, shadowy, covered the walls, and there wasn't a single plant in sight. An old ragged beanbag chair occupied one corner, and the outline of an instrument leaned against the wall- he took note to ask Demyx if he could play it later.

The glow came from a pile of pillows and sheets in the corner. A Demyx-shaped body underneath moved.

The writing stopped.

Demyx peeked out from under the corner of a blanket. "Helloooo...?" He eyed Dulor's silhouette, taking a moment to figure out who it was. "Oh! Hi!" He crawled out of the pillow fort, one foot subtly tangling itself in the blankets.

"Sorry to.. um... wake you?"

"Naw, I wasn't asleep..." He tried to stand up, fell over because of the blanket wrapped around his leg, untangled it, and finally made it to his feet. "Whatsup?"

"Just checking on how you're settling in," he made up on the spot, "and I can see you've made yourself at home." Dulor smiled and waved at the surrounding room unnecessarily. The manager, feeling like some sort of stalker pedophile for being here in the middle of the night, looked around for a seat to avoid Demyx's eyes. Behind the sunglasses, he caught sight of the old beanbag and perked up. Turning and collapsing on it, Dulor added, "I used to have one of these."

"Did you, really?" Asked Demyx, following Dulor to the beanbag and plopping down next to him. "I'm doing great, actually," He added. "And its all thanks to you... Otherwise, I'd still be trapped in that mess I was in before..."

"About that..."

Dulor paused, and thought for a second.

"... Could you tell me about yourself?" He fingered his sunglasses thoughtfully, the thought coming to him that Demyx hadn't actually seen him with them off yet. Which is just as well, because Dulor Leblanc was an insomniac (he hadn't slept since they'd met, actually), and his eyes had a hollow, sleepless quality about them. Medicine failed to help, even if he'd bothered to take it. The band did not know of this, and if they did notice that he was always up at all hours and hardly ever caught in his bed, they didn't say anything. He knew better then to mention it to them- Roxas would only think of some way to force his pills on him every night. Dulor hated those pills. He hated being drowsy without his own violation. The new vocalist wouldn't be finding out about the pills either. The sunglasses stayed on.

"For instance, why did your father disown you?"

"Not much to talk about," said Demyx, resting his chin in one hand. "Depends on what you want to know." His expression grew solemn as Dulor brought up a subject. He glanced away, mouth pursing into a thoughtful line. "...Our personalities... Clashed." He said slowly, wording the short sentence carefully.

Dulor noticed that on the one bean bag chair, they were quite close. He was nearly touching the singer. The manager shifted unconsciously.

"What happened?" he intoned quietly.

"Its not a very exciting story..." He mumbled, shifting awkwardly as well.

"I love stories. You've got me curious now, dear."

"He... Um... Caughtmeinmyroomwithmyboyfriend."

Dulor blinked slowly, rather like a bewildered fish. "Your... girlfriend, you say?"

"...No." Demyx was blushing bright pink.

Dulor refused to accept the obvious without it being spelled out. Something in his mind had just shifted- and he didn't like it. "No... what?" In a minute he would do something stupid.

Demyx shot him a pleading look. "My... Boy... Friend..." He shook his head, refusing to look at the band manager.

"As in..."

"As in... I'm gay?"

"... Oh."

After a moment of silence in which he decided he wouldn't think about it, "ANYWAYS."

But a stab of curiosity slipped the question through, "All the way gay?"

"What do you mean, all the way gay?"

"No female groupies on the side?"

"Um... Idunno... Uh... No?"

"Well at least that cuts down on insurance."

"...What?"

"Nothing. Can you play that instrument?"

Demyx perked up, glad for the change of subject. "Why would I have an instrument I couldn't play?" He said, sitting up. "'Course I can, silly."

Dulor muttered about working it into the show as he got up to follow Demyx.

"Well then, do so, please."

"Kay." He stood up, slipping on the carpet but catching himself before he fell, and walked over to the blue instrument. "What do you want me to play?" He asked, strumming a few test chords and wincing. He twisted the knobs at the top, plucking at the strings as he tuned it by ear.

Dulor watched in amazement.

"... I have no idea. What IS that?"

"An Indian sitar." He muttered, concentrating on the sound. "Mmm... There." He said, finally satisfied that it was tuned well enough to show to the manager.

"Like a gui... tar..." Dulor trailed off into silence as Demyx started playing.

"Mmhmm... Kindof." He tweaked one last note, and then started playing. The lyrics of the song were whispered quietly, mostly drowned out by the playing. It gave the song a sort-of mystic effect. The sound of a Beatles song flowed.

You couldn't see it in the dark, but Dulor smiled.

Demyx finished the song and looked up, eying Dulor's face for approval. Judging from what he could see through the cover of darkness and those damn sunglasses, it hadn't been a complete failure.

"... Have you ever played that in front of people? As in, for a show?"

"...No, why?"

"So I can't entirely blame god for not letting me walk past the club when you were playing it. I hereby order you to talk to Axel about working the... sitar? Into a song. Speaking of which- what were you doing under there?"

"Um, nothing. I mean, uh... Writing. Its nothing."

"Can I..." Dulor stood up, striding over to the abandoned pile of blankets before Demyx could stop him, "See nothing?"

"No!" Demyx scrambled to put the instrument down, crawling on his knees to try and get there first.

"Ah ha!" Dulor whipped back the covers to reveal... Writing. Huge surprise. He grabbed them and twisted around flexibly, holding Demyx at bay with stocking feet to the singer's shoulders.

"But they're- They're not done, yet!" He said, desperately trying to fight his way to the papers.

"Can't I read a liiitttle?'

"No! You can- You can read them later, maybe, okay? Just give!"

"Later? You promise?"

"Later. Promise." He whined.

"Swear?"

"I swear. Hand them over!"

Dulor gave a satisfied smile and passed them to him, removing his feet. At that second he realized that a gay man's head had just been between his legs. The manager blushed and coughed and managed to rummage around importantly.

Demyx clutched the papers to his chest, glaring at Dulor indignantly. "Don't do that... Its not nice."

"What?" He coughed again. "Oh, stealing your papers? Didn't you read the contract? You have no rights." He grinned.

"What?!"

"... Well, you have SOME rights."

"Never mind." He shook his head. "Rights or no rights, its still not nice."

"I'm... sorry?"

"You are?"

"Not particularly. I want to read those."

"Later, later." Demyx lifted himself up onto the edge of his bed, scrambled over it, and stuffed the papers into a drawer in the bedside table.

Dulor noted where they were automatically and waited for Demyx to come back.

Demyx stared at him from across the room. "Why do you wear those silly glasses? It makes it impossible to read your facial expressions."

Dulor waggled his eyebrows.

"Exactly. Anyways, everyone in The Bizz wears them. Everyone."

"That's dumb. I don't even know what color your eyes are."

"Just blue."

"Can't you just take them off and show me?"

"Can't you just sing what you have of that song?"

"...That's not fair! You're mean!"

"On the contrary. I'm a businessman."

"A mean businessman."

Dulor raised his eyebrows again. "That's what we do. Speaking of doing something... You should be sleeping. You should have been sleeping hours ago. We have practice and press conferences in the morning, you know." Morning for the band was actually around one in the afternoon, but Demyx didn't know about that- the only reason they'd been up so early yesterday is because the singer had woken.

"...Alright." Demyx resigned himself, falling back onto the bed with his knees still in the air. "You should be, too, though, mister businessman..."

"Good night, Demyx," he said at the door. The eyes behind the sunglasses drifted toward the drawer that kept whatever Demyx had been writing. He eyed it curiously.

"...sweet dreams."

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