![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
"How Not to Say No" [Ch 1] [KH] [zemyx]
Title: How Not to Say No
Series: Kingdom Hearts
Character/Pairing: Zemyx
Genre Humour/Romance
Rating: T
Word Count: 1,705 ; Chapter 1/?
Description: Demyx has always believed in the power to “just say no”—he’s just never experienced it himself. College AU.
Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts © Square Enix and Disney
--
“No,” said Demyx. His eyes stared unwaveringly forward, leaving no room for any doubts as to the sincerity of his statement. He set his eyebrows lower and tilted them into a deeper frown. “No.” He crossed his arms over his chest—no, that’s too defensive, how about—yes, yes, that’s better. Arms hanging loosely on either side of his body, he faced his adversary again, raising his chin higher for good measure. “No.”
His reflection stared back at him, looking properly chastised. Good, good. Now if he could just do the same thing when faced by the huge, watery blue eyes of his blond roommate, everything would be fine.
The door to their shared room opened, and Demyx squared his shoulders in preparation.
“Oh, good—he’s in here, Axel! Hey, Demyx. Are you ready to go?”
“N—n—I have a huge project to work on, so…”
“…Come on, Demyx. Wouldn’t you rather spend your Friday partying than sitting around in here writing papers?”
“N—N—”
Axel smirked, leaning against the dorm frame. “Aw, look how stressed he is, Roxy. It’s practically our duty to take him out, now.”
“N—N—“
Roxas frowned at Demyx thoughtfully, and then gave a sharp nod. “Yeah, I think you’re right, Axel. He definitely needs some time to chill.”
Be assertive! he told himself, but rather than being transformed into intelligible speech, his refusal just grew in volume and desperation. “N—N--!”
Axel and Roxas each took one of his arms and dragged him out the door and down the hall. “Don’t worry, Demyx. Tonight’ll be amazing.”
“N-------------------------------!”
--
It had only been ten minutes since they’d arrived, and Axel and Roxas had already disappeared into the sea of moving bodies, leaving Demyx to find a desolate corner in which to curl up to wait the night out.
He hated these parties. He hated the sound—the roar of what seemed like millions of loud conversations overwhelmed by the music that pounded and pressed its way into Demyx’s ears, leaving his head feeling raw and dizzy—the smell, the lighting… He hated everything about them.
And every Friday he was forced to come, because everyone knew how much he loved music and socializing, and they seemed to think that those things went hand in hand with parties.
They didn’t.
He loved good music, not this trash they played, with its awkward, uninspired rhythms, barely-trained vocalists, and unmemorable lyrics. He loved socializing in small groups—loved the warm, friendly atmosphere of cafes and parks, or the single-minded thrill of an entire audience focusing all of its energy on letting the music—the brilliant, amazing music—flow over them.
He did not love this—this cold and faceless sort of socializing, where people had no interest in ever becoming close friends with their conversation partners. They became furious when Demyx couldn’t remember their names, and they became pitying when he used his notecards.
He was about to grab a beer when he saw Axel and Roxas simultaneously down a pair of huge mugs of something that was a terrifying neon colour, and at that point decided that it would probably be best if he were to be the designated driver for the night. He sighed, gave the beer one last, longing look, and moved to crawl back into his corner.
“Your friends seem to be living it up,” came a soft voice from behind him.
He turned to see a short, pale man decked out in all black, peering at him with a single blue eye peaking out from behind a curtain of slate hair. He looked kind of creepy, and Demyx instinctively took a small step back as he tried to remember if he knew this person.
“E-eh—Yeah, I guess so, er…J-Justin?”
The blue eye didn’t blink, nor did the blank facial expression change.
“U-uh… Jordan?”
The expression remained immobile, and Demyx was about to try for a third time, hoping this wasn’t going to turn into another Rumpelstiltskin incident, when the man finally spoke again. “It’s Zexion,” he said. “We haven’t met before.”
“Oh good. I thought I was going to have a panic attack.” Suddenly cheerful, Demyx reached into his pocket and pulled out his small stack of notecards and a pen. “Oct… o… ber… one… six… Lux… ord’s… party… Zexy… blue… hair… only… one… eye.”
With a flourish, Demyx finished the last stroke and beamed at his handiwork as though it represented a completed symphony instead of a ten-word note on someone he might never meet again.
Zexion glanced down at the card as well, raising an elegant eyebrow very slightly. “You do realise that both of my eyes are perfectly intact? And it’s Zexion. With an i-o-n, and certainly no y.”
“Yes, but that’s harder to remember,” said Demyx, winking at Zexion as he carefully stowed his precious notecards back into his pocket. “I have to take what I can get.” The booming music slid into a new song, barely distinguishable from the previous one. Common time, D Major, and stacked with sixteenth notes and irregular rhythms. How long before this short conversation became awkward beyond bearing? Five bars? Maybe not even that. “So, uh… My name’s Demyx,” he tried, and managed to maintain his grin even when his eyes took in the band shirt Zexion was wearing. People not only pay money to listen to that music, they actually buy souvenirs proving they were there? Demyx hoped his smile didn’t look as forced as it felt.
Based on Zexion’s smirk as his eye(s?) followed Demyx’s gaze, his horror must have shown through. “It’s my roommate’s shirt.” He paused then, and grudgingly revised that with, “Well, my roommate’s girlfriend’s shirt. I can’t wear any of my roommate’s tops without turning them into dresses.” His face went dark and sulky for a moment, before he recovered himself enough to add, “My roommate didn’t think my usual attire was suitable for a party of this sort.” He smirk was back in full force. “I take it you’re not fond of death metal?”
Demyx stared at him blankly. “I love death metal…”
The single slate eyebrow shot back up. “Oh? You seemed rather unimpressed by my borrowed clothing, and so I assumed…”
“What?! Nooooooo! No no no no nooooo! Just because I can’t stand one band doesn’t mean I don’t like the genre! I’ve never heard a genre I didn’t like, when played properly. I love good music—I don’t care what it is, as long as it’s good.”
Zexion stared at him thoughtfully before responding. “And what if a genre has not yet been represented by skilled composers and musicians? Would you still love that genre?”
“Of course! In fact, the harder it is to write beautiful music with whatever genre it is, the more impressive it is when someone finally manages it. And that makes it the most beautiful of all.”
“…I see. Is your argument then that impressive feats are, by definition, beautiful?”
“Well, yeah, I guess. Wouldn’t you say so?”
Zexion’s single blue eye caught his own for a long moment. “I suppose,” he said quietly, voice barely able to be heard above the pounding of the music and conversations around them, “that it would depend on your definition of beauty.”
Demyx laughed. “Well, that’s easy!” He twirled, nearly bashing into a couple travelling to the bar, and, heedless of their resultant curses, turned back to Zexion with his arms stretched out on either side. “Beautiful things are the ones that make you happy!”
Zexion’s lips curled up in a smile that was reflected in his eye. His hands were buried in his pockets, and his head tilted to one side, and suddenly he wasn’t creepy anymore--he was just really, really cute. Demyx smiled back, feeling warm.
“W-would you—“ he began, and then cleared his throat, trying to push down the blush he felt rising to his cheeks, and tried again. “I mean, if y-you’re not, you know, here with someone… w-would you like to go to a c-café? For c-coffee? It’d be easier to t-talk…”
Zexion’s tiny smile widened, and Demyx nearly melted. But just as Zexion had opened his mouth to respond, Axel and Roxas came bursting out of the crowd, flushed and laughing.
“DEMYX!” bellowed Axel, managing by some unimaginable feat of lung strength to actually overpower the music. “YOU HAVE TO CHECK THIS OUT! THIS PERSON IS—” he paused long enough to break down into giggles, almost collapsing into Roxas’s shoulder. “THIS PERSON IS—” More giggles.
Demyx stared at them, turned back to look at Zexion, and then back to Axel again. This should be the easiest ‘no’ to ever have the pleasure of leaving his lips. He took a deep breath. “N-----”
Almost there…
His eyebrowns tilted down into a frown, and he went cross-eyed in concentration. “N-----------”
…Oh, come on. A drunken Axel and Roxas in a simmering party full of loud voices and louder—horrible—music, or a cute café with a cuter Zexion and a conversation about good music? This shouldn’t even be a choice! How could he still not manage to choke out this one, stupid word?!
As Axel and Roxas’s unsteady hands reached out to drag Demyx straight into hell, an angelic chord struck out, throwing up a shield of protection and blocking out the demonic entreaties.
…Or, at least, that’s how it all seemed to Demyx, who was at this point half-crazed with frustration and still trying to force sounds out of his stubborn throat.
“No,” said Zexion easily, smirking. “Demyx is coming with me.”
Axel's eyes focused on Zexion for the first time, weighing him carefully with an almost-sober thoughtfulness. “That okay with you, Dem?” he asked.
Demyx nodded emphatically, and Axel grinned and winked at him, then melted back into the crowd, a still-giggling Roxas in tow.
Demyx watched them disappear with wide eyes, hardly able to believe that it was actually happening.
“So,” came Zexion’s voice. A strange smile was forming as he observed Demyx’s shock. “Coffee?”
As Demyx took in Zexion’s intelligent blue eyes, pert nose, and smirking lips, he decided that this was probably the best day ever.
-END CHAPTER-
Next Chapter
[A/N - This wasn't intended to be anti-party. I was just thinking of what Demyx could fail to say "no" to--and where he and Zexion could meet--when I received an invitation to go out to an izakaya. This, I thought, could work, but let's make it bigger...]
-
--
---
[Fanfiction Masterlist can be found here.]
Series: Kingdom Hearts
Character/Pairing: Zemyx
Genre Humour/Romance
Rating: T
Word Count: 1,705 ; Chapter 1/?
Description: Demyx has always believed in the power to “just say no”—he’s just never experienced it himself. College AU.
Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts © Square Enix and Disney
--
“No,” said Demyx. His eyes stared unwaveringly forward, leaving no room for any doubts as to the sincerity of his statement. He set his eyebrows lower and tilted them into a deeper frown. “No.” He crossed his arms over his chest—no, that’s too defensive, how about—yes, yes, that’s better. Arms hanging loosely on either side of his body, he faced his adversary again, raising his chin higher for good measure. “No.”
His reflection stared back at him, looking properly chastised. Good, good. Now if he could just do the same thing when faced by the huge, watery blue eyes of his blond roommate, everything would be fine.
The door to their shared room opened, and Demyx squared his shoulders in preparation.
“Oh, good—he’s in here, Axel! Hey, Demyx. Are you ready to go?”
“N—n—I have a huge project to work on, so…”
“…Come on, Demyx. Wouldn’t you rather spend your Friday partying than sitting around in here writing papers?”
“N—N—”
Axel smirked, leaning against the dorm frame. “Aw, look how stressed he is, Roxy. It’s practically our duty to take him out, now.”
“N—N—“
Roxas frowned at Demyx thoughtfully, and then gave a sharp nod. “Yeah, I think you’re right, Axel. He definitely needs some time to chill.”
Be assertive! he told himself, but rather than being transformed into intelligible speech, his refusal just grew in volume and desperation. “N—N--!”
Axel and Roxas each took one of his arms and dragged him out the door and down the hall. “Don’t worry, Demyx. Tonight’ll be amazing.”
“N-------------------------------!”
--
It had only been ten minutes since they’d arrived, and Axel and Roxas had already disappeared into the sea of moving bodies, leaving Demyx to find a desolate corner in which to curl up to wait the night out.
He hated these parties. He hated the sound—the roar of what seemed like millions of loud conversations overwhelmed by the music that pounded and pressed its way into Demyx’s ears, leaving his head feeling raw and dizzy—the smell, the lighting… He hated everything about them.
And every Friday he was forced to come, because everyone knew how much he loved music and socializing, and they seemed to think that those things went hand in hand with parties.
They didn’t.
He loved good music, not this trash they played, with its awkward, uninspired rhythms, barely-trained vocalists, and unmemorable lyrics. He loved socializing in small groups—loved the warm, friendly atmosphere of cafes and parks, or the single-minded thrill of an entire audience focusing all of its energy on letting the music—the brilliant, amazing music—flow over them.
He did not love this—this cold and faceless sort of socializing, where people had no interest in ever becoming close friends with their conversation partners. They became furious when Demyx couldn’t remember their names, and they became pitying when he used his notecards.
He was about to grab a beer when he saw Axel and Roxas simultaneously down a pair of huge mugs of something that was a terrifying neon colour, and at that point decided that it would probably be best if he were to be the designated driver for the night. He sighed, gave the beer one last, longing look, and moved to crawl back into his corner.
“Your friends seem to be living it up,” came a soft voice from behind him.
He turned to see a short, pale man decked out in all black, peering at him with a single blue eye peaking out from behind a curtain of slate hair. He looked kind of creepy, and Demyx instinctively took a small step back as he tried to remember if he knew this person.
“E-eh—Yeah, I guess so, er…J-Justin?”
The blue eye didn’t blink, nor did the blank facial expression change.
“U-uh… Jordan?”
The expression remained immobile, and Demyx was about to try for a third time, hoping this wasn’t going to turn into another Rumpelstiltskin incident, when the man finally spoke again. “It’s Zexion,” he said. “We haven’t met before.”
“Oh good. I thought I was going to have a panic attack.” Suddenly cheerful, Demyx reached into his pocket and pulled out his small stack of notecards and a pen. “Oct… o… ber… one… six… Lux… ord’s… party… Zexy… blue… hair… only… one… eye.”
With a flourish, Demyx finished the last stroke and beamed at his handiwork as though it represented a completed symphony instead of a ten-word note on someone he might never meet again.
Zexion glanced down at the card as well, raising an elegant eyebrow very slightly. “You do realise that both of my eyes are perfectly intact? And it’s Zexion. With an i-o-n, and certainly no y.”
“Yes, but that’s harder to remember,” said Demyx, winking at Zexion as he carefully stowed his precious notecards back into his pocket. “I have to take what I can get.” The booming music slid into a new song, barely distinguishable from the previous one. Common time, D Major, and stacked with sixteenth notes and irregular rhythms. How long before this short conversation became awkward beyond bearing? Five bars? Maybe not even that. “So, uh… My name’s Demyx,” he tried, and managed to maintain his grin even when his eyes took in the band shirt Zexion was wearing. People not only pay money to listen to that music, they actually buy souvenirs proving they were there? Demyx hoped his smile didn’t look as forced as it felt.
Based on Zexion’s smirk as his eye(s?) followed Demyx’s gaze, his horror must have shown through. “It’s my roommate’s shirt.” He paused then, and grudgingly revised that with, “Well, my roommate’s girlfriend’s shirt. I can’t wear any of my roommate’s tops without turning them into dresses.” His face went dark and sulky for a moment, before he recovered himself enough to add, “My roommate didn’t think my usual attire was suitable for a party of this sort.” He smirk was back in full force. “I take it you’re not fond of death metal?”
Demyx stared at him blankly. “I love death metal…”
The single slate eyebrow shot back up. “Oh? You seemed rather unimpressed by my borrowed clothing, and so I assumed…”
“What?! Nooooooo! No no no no nooooo! Just because I can’t stand one band doesn’t mean I don’t like the genre! I’ve never heard a genre I didn’t like, when played properly. I love good music—I don’t care what it is, as long as it’s good.”
Zexion stared at him thoughtfully before responding. “And what if a genre has not yet been represented by skilled composers and musicians? Would you still love that genre?”
“Of course! In fact, the harder it is to write beautiful music with whatever genre it is, the more impressive it is when someone finally manages it. And that makes it the most beautiful of all.”
“…I see. Is your argument then that impressive feats are, by definition, beautiful?”
“Well, yeah, I guess. Wouldn’t you say so?”
Zexion’s single blue eye caught his own for a long moment. “I suppose,” he said quietly, voice barely able to be heard above the pounding of the music and conversations around them, “that it would depend on your definition of beauty.”
Demyx laughed. “Well, that’s easy!” He twirled, nearly bashing into a couple travelling to the bar, and, heedless of their resultant curses, turned back to Zexion with his arms stretched out on either side. “Beautiful things are the ones that make you happy!”
Zexion’s lips curled up in a smile that was reflected in his eye. His hands were buried in his pockets, and his head tilted to one side, and suddenly he wasn’t creepy anymore--he was just really, really cute. Demyx smiled back, feeling warm.
“W-would you—“ he began, and then cleared his throat, trying to push down the blush he felt rising to his cheeks, and tried again. “I mean, if y-you’re not, you know, here with someone… w-would you like to go to a c-café? For c-coffee? It’d be easier to t-talk…”
Zexion’s tiny smile widened, and Demyx nearly melted. But just as Zexion had opened his mouth to respond, Axel and Roxas came bursting out of the crowd, flushed and laughing.
“DEMYX!” bellowed Axel, managing by some unimaginable feat of lung strength to actually overpower the music. “YOU HAVE TO CHECK THIS OUT! THIS PERSON IS—” he paused long enough to break down into giggles, almost collapsing into Roxas’s shoulder. “THIS PERSON IS—” More giggles.
Demyx stared at them, turned back to look at Zexion, and then back to Axel again. This should be the easiest ‘no’ to ever have the pleasure of leaving his lips. He took a deep breath. “N-----”
Almost there…
His eyebrowns tilted down into a frown, and he went cross-eyed in concentration. “N-----------”
…Oh, come on. A drunken Axel and Roxas in a simmering party full of loud voices and louder—horrible—music, or a cute café with a cuter Zexion and a conversation about good music? This shouldn’t even be a choice! How could he still not manage to choke out this one, stupid word?!
As Axel and Roxas’s unsteady hands reached out to drag Demyx straight into hell, an angelic chord struck out, throwing up a shield of protection and blocking out the demonic entreaties.
…Or, at least, that’s how it all seemed to Demyx, who was at this point half-crazed with frustration and still trying to force sounds out of his stubborn throat.
“No,” said Zexion easily, smirking. “Demyx is coming with me.”
Axel's eyes focused on Zexion for the first time, weighing him carefully with an almost-sober thoughtfulness. “That okay with you, Dem?” he asked.
Demyx nodded emphatically, and Axel grinned and winked at him, then melted back into the crowd, a still-giggling Roxas in tow.
Demyx watched them disappear with wide eyes, hardly able to believe that it was actually happening.
“So,” came Zexion’s voice. A strange smile was forming as he observed Demyx’s shock. “Coffee?”
As Demyx took in Zexion’s intelligent blue eyes, pert nose, and smirking lips, he decided that this was probably the best day ever.
-END CHAPTER-
Next Chapter
[A/N - This wasn't intended to be anti-party. I was just thinking of what Demyx could fail to say "no" to--and where he and Zexion could meet--when I received an invitation to go out to an izakaya. This, I thought, could work, but let's make it bigger...]
-
--
---
[Fanfiction Masterlist can be found here.]