A/N: So here's chapter 3. Longest chapter yet, but I''m really trying to crank this out before I go off to save the world (and stuff). I get the feeling I won't be finished publishing this story before I'm gone, so in the event that happens, I apologize in advance. I'll finish it when I have access to a computer again.

Review!

"So, hey-"

"No."

"-I was wondering-"

"No."

"-that project we have to do?"

"No."

"Maybe we should start on it some time."

"No."

"No?"

"No."

I had underestimated Zexion's resolve.

It was near the end of September. Way back when, you know- back when I was young and stupid, or in other words, "August"- I thought that pissing off my slate haired project partner was a good idea. I got my seven chuckles out for the day, and carried on.

Let me just stop and punch myself in the nuts.

He hadn't talked to me at all. Like, at all, at all.

No initiating conversation. No looking at me. It'd been, what, a month? And he had said about as many words to me as the number of girls Axel has slept with. Which is none, for those of you keeping score at home. Don't let him fool you.

But anyway- Zexion. It was a facepalm on a personal level that I'd screwed myself out of even a friendship with the guy, let alone a friends-with-benefitship; but it was a whole 'nother level of contortionist style self-ass-kicking for me, as now my partner wouldn't even talk about the project.

Y'know, that thing that kind of determined a quarter of my grade?

"… But didn't you say you were serious about your gr-"

"I am serious about my grade. As far as I'm concerned, you can go… You can just fail."

My lips twitched of their own accord, I swear, but at least he didn't catch it. He was too busy glaring at the empty whiteboard. The prof was nowhere to be found, it was raining cats and dogs, and I had a hunch- there's that Velma shit again- that at least half the class wouldn't show up today. That may or may not even include the prof.

So far, it was me, Zexion, and Cowboy Hat sitting in the back playing Angry Birds.

"You know this is a group project, right? Like, we have to work together as a unit."

He huffed and said simply, "I don't want to."

Now, look. I haven't rolled my eyes since I was like, thirteen. But I came close, that day.

"I don't care what you want, kid, I'm not failing 'cause you don't wanna play nice." And stuff.

He still didn't look at me, but I saw his jaw clench. He probably didn't realize it, but his body language made up for his lack of vocal language in spades. How do I know this?

You gotta pick up on other forms of communication quick when there's no common language, but a whole mess of common hostility. It was the truth in country, and it was the truth back home.

His arms were crossed, shoulders hunched, chin tucked and torso leaned as far away from me as he could get, one leg crossed over the other. I could go into detail and tell you all about what he was unintentionally saying, but you probably get the jist of it; basically, he wasn't having this conversation with me.

"I do not play nice with imbeciles."

Okay, fuck it. I rolled my eyes.

"Come on, man. Are you seriously still hung up over…" I didn't know what to call it. I hadn't said anything about him, and we hadn't really argued… "Over me picking on you? 'Cause shit, I'll apologize. Look here, right now: I'm sorry. Can we maybe get this project together now?"

He glared at me like I threw his puppy off a cliff.

What, too soon?

"I said-"

"Look, dude, if you won't work with me, I'll make sure prof knows about it."

I hated to be the one to say it. There's really nothing worse than a tattle-tell, in my honest-to-gosh opinion, but I was not willing to sacrifice my grades for the combined sakes of his stubbornness and my stupidity. I apologized- shit, I may have even meant it- so if he wasn't gonna compromise, there was gonna be trouble.

His one visible eye widened, eyebrow raised, as if he couldn't believe he'd heard me. That famous line by Chris Rock flashed through my head- y'know, "Do you unnuhstan' the words that are comin' outta mah MOUTH?"- and I had to bite my tongue to keep from giggling, but my grin escaped.

"Are you serious?"

"Yup."

"But…" his gaze cut to the board again, and he frowned, "but you're the one who…" glanced back at me, brow still furrowed, "it's not that I'm not willing to work with you…"

Then he got all shifty eyed, started fidgeting. Unfolded his arms and rubbed them like he was cold.

"I'm just busy. I don't have time to work with you."

You know what is a key way to tell when someone's lying? They touch their face. It stems from the childish desire to hold back the lie they tell, keep it from leaving their mouth, but as we get older, it becomes less obvious, and is used together with other visual cues. That came in especially handy over there when dealing with those of the local population who were growly-growly at us.

But I didn't even bother narrowing my eyes out of the annoyance I felt when he ran a hand over his mouth. It just wouldn't have helped any. Instead, I remained steadfast in my belief that if I lost it and punched him, he'd never want to do the no pants dance with me. Also, there was the grades to consider.

"I'm free today. Right now, actually…" I trailed off, glancing at my watch. It was a pretty safe bet that class had been cancelled.

"Well, I won't be free until… Next week. Or so."

His voice had that particular inflection of people who fucking suck at lying on the fly. I didn't bother with it though- just snatched my chance before he could realize his mistake: never give me an inch. I'll totally laugh and joke and smile, but the whole time, I'm just inching my way through that mile.

"Next week is fine. Tuesday at twelve?" He replied in the negative; class then.

"When's your last class on Tuesday?"

He shifted, looking around as if someone would come to his rescue (unlikely, since Cowboy Hat was currently committing countless acts of animal cruelty on her iPhone), but in the end, he sighed and hung his head in defeat.

"My last class ends at one Tuesdays and Thursdays. We can meet in the library."

I brightened up considerably, grinning at him as I picked up my bag and my helmet.

"Great! Glad we got this all worked out. See ya Friday!"

He didn't even have the chance to protest.

-.-.

The following week was fun, in the same way that dipping your hand in beer batter and deep frying it is fun.

So, not very.

Zexion tried to not talk to me (unsuccessfully), Axel wouldn't stop talking to me (successfully), and by Tuesday, my Instructor Pilot was telling me it was about time I flew the plane solo.

I checked my watch after my last class Tuesday, and chalked another point up to God, whose cornflakes I must have done worse than piss in- I would have to run across campus to make my meeting with Zexion. There was no doubt in my mind he'd skip out if I was even fractionally late.

To my surprise, however, I made it in record time- a black friend of mine once said I was gifted with "slave feet"- so I stopped by the coffee shop adjacent to the library.

It was your regular, run of the mill chain shop, but as I stepped inside and pulled off the hood of my jacket, I could imagine it being more. Warm lighting and hot coffee were exactly what I needed, considering the weather- which was cold, windy, and overcast at 500 feet- and my clothing, which consisted of shorts, a hoodie and a t-shirt.

I feel like the state of Florida was just like, "Oh, you wanna wear shorts to school, Demyx? That's fine, I'll make it freakishly cold for October today, because fuck you, that's why!"

But I checked my watch after I sat down with the warmth from my coffee seeping through my numb fingers, and found that I still had time to spare. I was almost giddy enough to tolerate hearing a Glee song or something. Almost.

I relaxed in my seat, slouching back and running my fingers up and down my cardboard cup.

At that moment, the bell above the door rang, but I didn't bother looking. I was enjoying my me time, quietly dreading having to go and talk to my ice cold project partner.

It occurred to me, after a couple minutes of dozing off in the warm atmosphere, that I hadn't taken a single sip of my coffee- herpaderp, I buy coffee and don't do anything with it- so I cracked an eye to check if it was still steaming.

Lo and behold, there was Zexion, skulking towards the sugar counter, shoulders hunched like he was trying to hide in his own skin.

I caught sight of him- it wouldn't be real fair to say that he caught sight of me, 'cause he had been staring at me when I opened my eyes- and he totally looked ready to flee. I almost felt guilty.

Almost being the operative word.

"Oh, Zexion! Hey Zexion! Over here!"

I hissed a stage whisper at him, and he looked around like there was someone else in the damn shop with a name like that. No, I wasn't calling you, Zexion. I was calling the other Zexion. Derp.

He glanced at the door before he brought his panicked gaze back to me. I'd have given about 2.5 seconds before he bolted.

"Zexyyy! Come over here, or I'll totes mcgoats make a scene!"

Other people were starting to look between the two of us now, and to my delight, my project partner quickly ducked his head- in what I'll go ahead and say was an adorable attempt to hide the magnificent blush creeping up his neck- and made his way to me.

With a huff, he sat down, placing his coffee with deceptive gentleness on the little square table between us. He didn't look at me. I grinned broadly at him.

"Sooo…"

He glared at the checkerboard on the table.

"How you doin'?" I considered breaking out the ghetto accent, but somehow, I figured this guy wouldn't be much of a fan.

With another huff, he glanced at me, back down to the table, and out the window.

"Fine."

Okay, so he was talking to me. That was a sight better than the last few weeks I'd been in his presence. Let's see how far we could go with this.

"So, um…" he glanced at me as I trailed off, and I wondered just how much dislike someone could ooze before that shit turned caustic and started spewing out his mouth, exorcist style. The imagery was a little disconcerting.

"You are doing it again, Demyx."

Huh?

"Doing what?"

"Staring at me. Please stop."

I like to believe I didn't blush when I looked away, but somehow, he must have figured out that I was embarrassed. He smirked. But hey, I thought, at least he wasn't scowling any more.

"Can I ask you somethin'?"

He quirked an eyebrow at me, but didn't say anything. Considering it wasn't the flavored windows look, or the indifferent look, or the Chris Rock look- I took it as an affirmative.

"What's your major?"

To this he narrowed his eyes again, distrusting. Jeez, he was as defensive as a closeted politician. You'd think I'd punched his mother then lied about it to his face or something. Before he could tell me in a PG-13 way to fuck off, I cut in, saying, "Wait, no, I'm serious. You seem totally smart enough to be an engineering major, but I never see you with any books, or coming out of the-" I almost said 'Nerdery', but corrected myself last second like, "-the Lehman building, and you don't seem uh, cocky enough to be a pilot like me, so, I was just wondering…"

He studied me for a minute, and I started feeling squeamish under his scrutiny. It may be just me, but I kind of think it takes two to have a conversation, like it takes two to tango. The only times it takes less than that is if you're schizophrenic. And I assume that applies to both.

"I am an…" he hesitated, glanced at me, then back out the window, "I'm an English major."

He cringed after he said it, like he expected me to laugh or something, but I just gazed at him for a second before tapping my chin. "Hm."

He looked out the corner of his eye at me, and I saw his brow furrow. Something told me if I could see both sides of his face, he'd probably have the cutest doggone confused expression ever. I added it to my bucket list.

"Is that all you can say? 'Hm'? You're not going to ridicule me, Mister Dangerous Mean Soldier Man?"

It was my turn to quirk my brow. I mean, come on. Dangerous, and/or mean, I could understand. But Soldier Man?

"Well, no; I was gonna ask you too if you're a Classical or Contemporary English major, but I'm feelin' real offended that you think I'm some little Hooah punk." His look was about as blank as a sheet of paper at a redneck writing convention. I tried again.

"I'm not Army."

And I'll be damned, the corner of his mouth twitched up into something resembling that radiant smile I saw weeks and weeks ago. My insides promptly did a little jig of yay!

"My mistake. And I am a Contemporary English major, for your information."

I grinned, finally sitting back in seat, realizing at the same time that I'd been leaning over the table since he sat down. I was practically in the guy's lap; maybe that's why he'd started off so hostile. Oh well.

"Well, okay. I got ya." He leaned back in his seat as well, never quite losing that little smile of his. I scrambled for something to fill the silence between us before he realized that he was actually not hating being in the same room with me. "So what's your favorite book? Are you reading anything now?"

With a shrug, he reached in his bag, fumbled around for a second, and pulled out a paperback book, dropping it onto the table next to his coffee. "It is actually my favorite book. I'm currently writing an essay on it for one of my classes, so I get to re-read it again."

I picked it up, studying it. After a moment of tracing the raised letters on the cover, I flipped it over, reading over the summary in the back, before setting it back down and meeting Zexion's gaze. It looked like he was trying to hide a smirk, kind of like he was surprised I could read or something. I might have been offended if I didn't like the way it made his eyes light up.

"Ya know, Zexy," his eye twitched at the nickname. Therefore, it was a keeper. "I like Asimov. I've only read a couple of his books, but I like this one the best." If he seemed surprised before, he looked absolutely shocked now.

"You know Asimov?"

"Well, duh, dude. Gotta read something when you're standing post for hours at a time, right?"

He still didn't look like he trusted me, but there was something there. A glimmer of hope, maybe.

"What other stories of his have you read?"

I shrugged and picked up the book again.

"Well, I read I Am Legend before it came out as a movie, and I wasn't really a fan of either version. Then I read I, Robot, and I kind of liked it, but again, I couldn't really get into it, partially 'cause it has a tenuous grasp on reality, but mostly 'cause the adaptation was a total Will Smith bonerfest."

Dumbfounded- like I'd told him the sky was green, and then proven it. I grinned at his expression and continued. "So, yeah. The End of Eternity was my favorite, 'cause it seemed realistic, enough- and the ending? Oh, that shit was f-" I censored myself, if belatedly, "-ffffreakin' epic. Like, really, dude? 'And so began the end of Eternity… And the beginning of Infinity.' It was awesome."

Now he looked totally delighted. There was that shy, little smile again, growing bigger and bigger as I talked, and his eyes practically shone when I said the word 'awesome'. He was leaning over the table, and he jumped in right as I stopped speaking.

"You are absolutely right! The ending was amazing- that's why this book is my favorite! It just makes you think, perhaps there are alternate dimensions, all branching off from chance encounters, choices made, along a line of eternity, and then, and then…" he seemed breathless, like he wasn't used to talking so heatedly. May God strike me down, but he was cute. No homo.

"I mean, Asimov speaks of Eternity and Infinity like they are within the realm of human comprehension, as if they were places, or, or events, and I mean, wow, you know?"

He was absolutely glowing by the time he stopped speaking. I knew I'd found my way in, then; the fastest way to an English major's heart was their favorite story. It was an odd sensation, but I was sorely tempted to scoop him up into a hug.

It made me do a double take, when I pictured it. Hugging is not really something I fantasize about with cute guys. Weird.

I came back from my train of thought when I realized Zexion had calmed down some, and was quietly staring at me, that little quirk of his lips still in place. I found myself smiling in return, before I glanced down, realizing I still hadn't taken a sip of coffee. Goddamnit.

"So, Zexion, what other stories do you like?"

-.-.

"… And that is why an Orwellian type dystopian future dominated by a Big Brother kind of deal is so wildly unlikely, ya might as well throw in some sparkly vampires to make the story a bit more interesting."

Zexion threw his hands up in frustration. We were sitting in the same places, empty coffee cups still on the table, though night had fallen outside. Once I'd gotten him to talk about literature, I found that my stony project partner was anything but; we argued heatedly for hours about different books, authors, even some movie adaptations- and right then, I was convincing him that George Orwell was full of shit.

"Demyx, surely you must know how absurd you sound! George Orwell predicted things in the 1950's that are still happening today! The things he spoke of have already begun to pass- it's entirely likely that in a few generation's time, their world will be the world of 1985!"

"Nah, bro. It won't happen. Americans will save the world, and you wanna know how?" He rolled his eyes, but motioned for me to continue. "Because, Americans are two things: they are fucking stubborn as hell, especially when it comes to the Second Amendment, and they are fucking stupid as hell. Even when something is for their own damn good, they won't do it; we'd rather sit on our bean bags, naked, eating Cheetos, with our buckshot rifle on one side and our stupid, giant machetes on the other."

For a moment, he didn't speak. Instead, he grinned, openly. I grinned back at him. And suddenly, we were laughing.

Yeah. Laughing. Shocking, innit?

When his giggling died down, he rested his cheek on his hand, still grinning.

"For someone who worked for the government, you have an astonishing lack of confidence in them, Demyx."

"Yeah?" I snorted, running a hand through my hair, "Well, it's because I worked for them that I know they couldn't take over the world in that way. Most everybody in that bad boy is incompetent as all hell."

He shook his head, still disbelieving. "You have no faith in the government."

"And you have no faith in the people."

We were quiet for a time after that, both of us staring off into space. He was still grinning. I got to thinkin' that we probably should have talked about the project at some point, but I couldn't find it in myself to regret the way the conversation had played out so far. Man, fuck whatever the hell the project was s'posed to be about. I just got Zexion laughing. That wins like a freakin' F18 filled with tiger's blood and Adonis and whatever the hell else Charlie Sheen is.

"Can I ask you something, Demyx?"

I glanced back at him, cutting short my inspection of the ceiling, and all the pitch painted pipes I could see.

"Yeah, wassup?"

"Why did you join the military?" he looked uncomfortable again, like he was regretting having spoken up. Couldn't have that.

"Weeeeeell…" I started, gazing at him. I didn't go on until he looked at me, and I flashed him a reassuring smile. "I joined 'cause I was too dumb to get a scholarship to any college, and I didn't really have the money to just go… Plus," I kind of cut short, scratching the back of my neck. I was hesitant to really share with this kid just yet, but when I glanced up and saw his intent gaze, I decided on it, anyways. "My father was in the Army. I joined the military 'cause I figured, if I could be just half the man he is, then I'll be successful at life, you know? And I figured I'd have a better shot of being awesome if I joined the more awesome branch, so I enlisted in the Corps."

He didn't say anything for about a minute. The shitty indie music they had playing in the background was really starting to irritate me, and I couldn't quite place why, until Zexion spoke again. I realized then that I was just being impatient, 'cause I kind of, sort of, maybe just a little bit, cared what he thought.

"Did it work?"

I looked up at him from under my eyebrows.

"Did what work?"

"Are you… Like your father?"

I heaved a sigh and leaned back, letting my head fall over the chair, staring up at the ceiling.

"I enlisted as a grunt. Thought I wanted to see the world, learn everything, all that." I paused, took a breath, and sat up, resting my arms on the table. "What I saw during my time over there…" Blah, can't do that. Don't wanna scare him off. Try again. "The things I learned… Well, yeah." I looked away, scratching the back of my head. "I saw some things, and I learned some things, that I wish I could unlearn, and unsee, you know? Something tells me that 'cause of the baggage I brought back from that place, I will never be the man my father is."

His eye was wide, and he was a little pale. I started to freak out, thinking he'd not wanna talk to me again- Mark Twain's, "I'd rather you think me a fool than open my mouth and remove all doubt" came to mind, but I shook it off since it made no fucking sense- and I said hurriedly, "But I'm fine. I came away pretty unscathed as far as those things go, so, uh… Yeah."

Zexion nodded like he was in a trance. After a second or two, he shook his head, saying abruptly, "I think I should be going. I have work to do, on my essay, and… Well, on my essay."

I stood up, grabbing the cups. "How 'bout I walk you to your dorm? Since you live on campus, and stuff?"

He shrugged his shoulders and picked up his bag, throwing it over his shoulder before walking out, and holding the door for me. Aw, shucks, and they say chivalry is dead.

I remembered as I stepped outside why the coffee shop had felt so great, and cursed the state of Florida. Wrapping my arms around myself, I shivered, before manning the fuck up and talking to Zexion.

"So, what brings you to this… Fine university?" I was getting pretty good at this censoring thing, if I do say so myself.

He grinned, probably unaware I'd almost dropped an F bomb.

"Well, I… I graduated highschool when I was fifteen. At first, my major was Aerospace Engineering, and I had a full scholarship for that, but I found that wasn't my passion." I tried not to let him see my surprised expression. I felt suitably inadequate, having been passed in about seven years of education by a kid two years my junior. "I had a little trouble convincing the university to let me retain my scholarship when I requested to switch majors, and I almost discontinued school because of it. My father and I- we were never really… Very wealthy, since my mother died, and if it hadn't been for the scholarship, I would not have been able to afford any form of higher education."

Suddenly I thought back to the first time he'd spoken to me, and how I'd said something about mommy and daddy paying for college. Wow. Somewhere, I'm sure God had curb stomped a kitten when I'd said that. I felt fucking horrible.

"Oh… I'm sorry, dude. I didn't know-"

"It's fine," he brushed it off with a wave of his hand, "it happened when I was young. I know she loved me very much, and her influence never entirely left my life."

"Oh. Okie dokie, then."

We walked in silence, and while his seemed contemplative, I was busy thinking of any other times I had inadvertently insulted him.

"So… Why did you get mad at me that one time? That I uh, saw you in the lunchroom?"

He glanced up at me questioningly before it dawned on him, and he smirked before looking forward.

"Well, when I first came here, I would get stared at quite a bit. It bothered me substantially, and I suppose when I caught you doing it, it just brought it back."

"Ah," I said, stroking my chin thoughtfully. He tried to hide his grin. And was unsuccessful.

"Have you come to a conclusion on my mental health, Freud?"

"Yup. You have an evil genius slash teddy bear complex. I don't think there's a cure. You could always try treatment with me, though."

I don't know where I found the balls to start flirting with him, but there it was. My insides were doing a little dance, and I was determined to not look at him, lest he see my wide grin. I heard him snort, though, and felt a bit of relief that he could take a joke. Maybe there was hope for this guy after all?

We arrived at a building that looked, for all intents and purposes, like a motel. As we walked up to a door on the ground floor, Zexion slowed, and shrugged. "This is it. Thank you for walking me home, Demyx."

I would say I grinned again, but honestly, I hadn't stopped grinning since we left the coffee shop. I was positively giddy.

"No probs, broskie."

He quirked an eyebrow. "Was that another language?"

"Oh, yeah, totes mcgoats. I'll teach it to ya sometime."

He grinned and shook his head, and it may have been my imagination, but did he just blush?

"Well, alright. Goodnight, Demyx."

"Night, Zex." I turned on my heel and left before I could do something crazy. Somewhere in my chest was that silly urge to hug him, but I had no desire to screw things up just yet, not so soon after I'd kind of, sort of, maybe patched them up.

Still, it unnerved me a bit thinking about just how much I wanted to kiss him.

A/N: Okay, the puppy off the cliff reference- some of you may have heard a few years ago about some fuckstick in the (world's finest) Marine Corps who threw a puppy off the cliff... on camera. And then put it on the internet. Yeah. A lot of us joke about shit like that, but really, that guy is a fucking retard. I do not support throwing cute animals off of cliffs.

Until next time, then! Review!

- ARA