a crying Patomon is the cutest thing in existence~~~ *squiggles*
Oh, wow. That new +Alert system ffdotnet's got is seriously fun. And if you ever needed an ego booster, that's it. *loving the multitudes of emails she's getting from it*
Uhm, just sticking up what I'm working on right now. A (WTF?!) Demyx x Riku fic. I started tophats & turnstiles with the intention of ending up with Riku and Sora, and Demyx and Zexion, and Cloud and Leon, to name a few. Okay, so it's more complicated than that, but basically it'd end up RikuxSora. However, in the first chapter, I worked out that I wanted more Riku and Demyx interaction, because their parts were the only bits turning out any good. Then I thought it could be an interesting way to start off the RikuxSora - by getting Demyx to bring Riku into his world, pretty much. Then it started controlling my mind and telling me that I should be writing RikuxDemyx, not RikuxSora. Or, at least, some RikuxDemyx in there. And there probably will be, anyway. But the point it, that was how tohats & turnstiles kept going, and it was driving me insane because I didn't want it like that for the particular story. So glass-metric wisely and wonderfully suggested that I simply get the RikuxDemyx out of my system with another fic. It was probably so that I'd finally get around to tophats & turnstiles, but it worked. I'm working on a mega-long oneshot now, on RikuxDemyx. So much love~♥
Brothers on a Hotel Bed
but even at our swiftest speed
we couldn’t break from the concrete -
in the city where we still reside.
---Death Cab For Cutie.
The doorbell rang.
Now, when the doorbell of the only occupied apartment on the third floor of a run-down old building rings, it is generally not wise to ignore it.
Unfortunately, the owner of the only occupied apartment on the third floor of this run-down building was not only incredibly dense when it came to protocol and wisdom in general; he was also asleep. Dozing on the equally-dilapidated faded blue couch in the lounge-cum-studio room, to be exact.
The doorbell rang.
One arm snaked up to rub his brow, then dropped back to hang uselessly by his side. This young man was going nowhere anytime soon.
The doorbell rang.
However, at the same time the microwave beeped: a heavy scent pervaded the air, a strong waft of curried chicken reached the nostrils of the sleeping, black-clad man. His nostrils twitched in response; the irritatingly cheery, repetitive sound of the age-old electronic doorbell went unnoticed. The youth rolled over.
A smash resounded through the small apartment, and the youth who had been simply rolling over instead rolled off the couch with a muffled landing thud and an unintelligible yell of pain. Lurching to his feet, he stumbled the twelve steps - he had counted, many a time - to the front door, with its splitting fake wood finish and its tarnished door knob. Grabbing the handle with one slim hand, he yanked it open.
And ended up on the floor. Again. With an armful of person.
There was a grunt, and the intruder gave a sour grunt as - he? It had to be a he, by the voice - placed his hands on either side of the flat’s owner and shoved himself off. Baleful aquamarine eyes glared down into sleep-muddled green ones.
Demyx shook his head. And shook it again, trying to get rid of that damned ringing. His vision clouded, he stared up for a few moments, waiting for his mind to register what he was seeing. His hands scrabbled to find a purchase somewhere, anywhere, and settled on the hips of the being currently sitting astride him.
A fist crashed into his jaw.
“Fuck.”
And thus, with that single expletive, Demyx Iglesias met Riku Hamasaki.
-x-x-x-
“So, who’re you?” Demyx asked the - guy? He still supposed it had to be a guy, but that silver hair was really long and really pretty - at his dinner table, the one that was actually a coffee table seated in front of that couch where he’d so comfortably drifted off to sleep earlier. Well, they were eating dinner at it anyway. He saw no reason to be nitpicky about such insignificant details, like whether or not he really owned a dinner table. Or whether this mysterious stranger who he’d just offered a bowl of chicken and rice to was male or female.
Those piercing pale eyes looked intently at him again. Demyx pretended to not notice and instead forked a few more mouthfuls of chicken into his mouth. A guest was no reason to diet.
All was silence for a few moments more, and just as Demyx was becoming slightly unnerved, the youth - he must’ve been only two or three years younger than Demyx himself - moved. Green eyes blinked suddenly as a folded piece of paper was thrust between his nose and his bowl. Slowly, he put his dish and cutlery down and took the sheet; unfolding it, he scanned the words.
He found he had to read them through several times. Even then, he still didn’t understand, and finally glanced up, ignoring a spike of honey-shaded hair dangling in his eyes to scrutinize the youth across from him.
Riku spoke up, at long last. “Read it?” He queried, with a hint of impatience.
Demyx nodded. “But I don’t get it,” he told him earnestly.
The silver-haired boy sighed, irritated. “Quote, ‘Riku, your mother and I have decided that it’s time to tell you… half-brother from a past marriage, here’s the address… blah, blah… money to go find him… take your time, cheers! Love, Dad.’ Unquote. Explain enough for you?”
“…Hell, no.” He answered, still confused.
There was another sigh. “You’re not particularly quick on the uptake, are you?”
Demyx wrinkled his nose. “Refrain from insulting your host, please. Especially if this is real and you’re my - what, my little brother? What the hell.”
“Half-brother. Or half-little brother. Little half-brother. Shit, that’s confusing.” Riku said moodily, looking down at his barely-touched bowl of chicken. “And even not that, maybe. My mum or whoever she is probably got around too. Worse than Dad.” He snorted, gently blowing away silver strands.
Demyx felt a sudden pang of sympathy. “So, our dad sent you.” He enquired gently, leaning forward impulsively, hands in his lap. The letter was lying on the table. “What’s he like?”
Riku looked briefly surprised for a second. “Like anyone’s old man. Tough bastard, honey sweet when he wants to be, a real jerk sometimes. Dad-like. Loves golf.”
“What’s his name?”
Now the look of confusion was overtaking the surprise. “You don’t even know what your own father’s name is?”
Demyx shook his fair head. “Nope. Mum never told me. D’you know what your mum’s name is?”
The suddenly young-looking boy glared at him again. His silence answered for him. After a quick flurry of thoughts, the older rose, grabbing his plate on the way up. “Get it,” he said, inclining his head at the bowl before his new-found brother. “Might as well stick it in the fridge if you’re not going to eat it now.”
It was strange, feeling the presence of someone pattering after you in the home you’d been accustomed to living in by yourself for so long, but Demyx quickly adjusted. Holding out a box of cling wrap to the other boy without looking at him, he pushed the dishwasher open with one foot, rolled out the bottom drawer with the toes on said foot, and dumped his bowl and fork in without aplomb. A second fork slid in with a rattle beside his own; he glanced up to see the boy turning away to contemplate the space in the fridge, no doubt wondering where to put his leftovers. Demyx grabbed it off him and shoved the bowl in beside a container of apple and blackcurrant juice, pushing the door closed almost as he did so.
He walked back out to the lounge room, again sensing Riku following after him, and collapsed on the couch. A minute passed before Riku sat beside him, keeping his limbs to himself unlike Demyx who was sprawled over more than half of the already small space.
“We’re a mess, aren’t we.” Demyx said after a while. Riku didn’t look at him, just kept watching straight ahead at where a television set stood, black screen enticing with all the well-known mysteries it contained. Demyx frowned at him and flung his arms over the back of the couch, sighing. “I mean, look at us. Two guys who are probably half-brothers and only just found out, one dad in common. One of us doesn’t know the name of his dad. One of us doesn’t know the name of his ma. You’re freakin’ miles away from home now - where did you live anyway, kid? - and I’ve suddenly got some new roommate for no reason at all. You probably haven’t even finished school -”
“Have so.”
“Okay, so you’re just out of school, and you’ve got no clue about what kind of person I am, or me about you. You’re like a little kitten thrust out into the big wide world by its owners. Given to me, of all people. Who the hell’d trust me with anything, let alone anyone?” He snorted again, blowing at his short gelled fringe. It had become a habit. “To top it all off, I’ve got a bloody bruise on my chin - why’d you do that anyway?”
Slim silver eyebrows snapped together and Riku turned to look him properly in the eye for the first time in over an hour. “You groped me.” He offered by way of explanation.
Demyx gaped at him. “I - what? Okay, I don’t know what kind of world you’ve been livin’ in, kid, but not every guy you meet is a gay child molester. I couldn’t see, okay? And some random just fell on me. What would you do if you were in that situation?”
There was no reply. Demyx scowled at him and felt around on the tiny table beside his armrest for the remote control. Finding it, he flipped the TV on and chucked it to the boy.
“You should probably get some sleep. It’s past nine already, and traveling makes people tired. I’m going to bed too. Don’t wake me up. We’ll sort this out properly tomorrow.” He flapped a hand at Riku and sauntered off without so much as a ‘good night’.
Riku stared after him, then turned back to the TV. When the overhead light went off, he didn’t blink an eye, just kept staring at the bright moving images on the TV screen.
He started about an hour later, when a navy blue woolen blanket landed on his head. Looking up to see a Demyx in white pyjamas, he blinked and locked eyes with him.
Demyx spoke first. “Don’t get cold.” Was all he said, face emotionless; he then spun on his heel and headed away again, presumably back to his bedroom. Riku wasn’t sure; he hadn’t yet been given the grand tour, not that there appeared to be much else to the apartment anyway. He watched the dark hallway for a little longer, then faced the television again, settling the blanket under his neck and ignoring his legs. The black-and-white light flickered eerily over his impassive features.
-x-x-x-
“Oi.”
“Mm…”
“Oi. Demyx. Whatever your name is.”
“…bugger off, Riku. Didn’t I tell you yesterday not to wake me up?”
Riku, sniffed, straightening up and crossing his arms. “Whatever. The eggs are burning.”
Demyx shot bolt upright on the kitchen chair he’d fallen asleep on waiting for the eggs to cook. “Shit!” He hissed, leaping out of the chair and grabbing the frying pan, flipping eggs at incredible speed. “Why didn’t you do something about it?” He growled at Riku, who pouted disdainfully.
“I don’t live here.”
“You do now, apparently. Get some plates unless you don’t want to eat today.”
Riku rummaged through the pantry and returned with two plates, onto which he tossed the salvages of the morning’s cooking attempt on two separate plates, patting each pile of black and white and yellow mournfully with the spatula. “Hope you didn’t want ‘em with runny yolk,” Demyx commented, pulling the salt and pepper out of a cupboard below the thin bench.
“I did, actually.”
“That’s too bad. Do it yourself next time.”
Riku eyed him grumpily. “O’ gracious host,” he intoned, but wisely chose to eat instead of saying anything more.
Demyx eyed him warily over his steaming plate, but also decided to stay silent, simply shoving the salt and pepper towards him, something Riku accepted with skeptically wide eyes - was he trying to make peace?
“Anyway,” the host of the household said, after a while. “You’re lucky I didn’t just make you eat the curry from last night.”
There was no response, but, glancing up, Demyx managed to catch a glimpse of the flash of a smile. The mere ghost, but it still felt rewarding. His lips curved upwards slightly as he looked back down at his fork, egg impaled on the end of it, feeling absurdly pleased with himself.
-x-x-x-
Demyx chuckled as the thump-thump-thump of following, rushed footsteps echoed down the hall. A small time later, a head popped over the balcony. Riku looked different from below, he mused to himself, laughing at the ridiculous thought. His face was almost completely shadowed by that long silver hair; the hands on either side of the head made the picture comical.
“Where are you going?” Beneath the irritated mask, there was a thread of panic. Probably thought he was being ditched or something.
“Steady up. What kind of family did you come from, kid?” The older man queried. He didn’t even consider the possible insult involved in calling his ‘half-brother’ a kid, stripping off one black glove and rubbing his hand. The fingers were tender - he’d written scores of music last night, pages and pages that would never see the light of day. It was just something he did when something major happened in his life; and by anyone’s standards, a brother showing up out of nowhere counted as something big. “What, did they abandon you or something? Or don’t tell me you were so pampered you were never alone.”
Above, Riku narrowed his pretty, good-at-looking-angry eyes in disbelief. “What - okay, you’re seriously screwed in the head.” He shook his own, and tried repeating his question. “Where are you going?” The second attempt was much more controlled. More anger, less worry. He found he was quite proud of himself. He had always been good at fooling people.
A snort sounded up the stairs from the floor down. “Bullshit.” Demyx clearly didn’t believe any of the bravado, something Riku tried to ignore. He could make anyone believe him. “You want to come?”
Riku nearly snarled. “But where the fuck are you going? That’s what I’ve been asking!”
“Haha. Oh.” Those slender fingers scratched at his skull for a moment. “Out to see some friends. You coming? If you’re going to be staying here, which you clearly are since your parents obviously don’t want you around -”
“Take that back.”
“- taken back already, sheesh. Daddy's boy. Anyway. You might as well meet the people I hang with, or you’ll never get to know the place.”
They stared at each other for a moment, then Riku gave a terse nod and disappeared from the balcony. Demyx stood watching the spot he’d been, pulling on the leather glove again and shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket. When Riku reappeared, he was still gazing upwards. The boy only took a quick look over to see if he was still there, then raced down the stairs.
For someone who was taller than him, he seemed strangely childish. “Sheltered life,” the older of the two muttered to himself as they continued to the front entrance.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Riku smacked him on the back as they exited the building, and Demyx laughed. Demyx liked laughing.
They continued down the street, Riku firing off questions like an inquisitive little kid all the while. It was such a change from the dour withdrawn personality from before that Demyx didn’t know whether to act amused, irritated, surprised, or all of them at once.
“When did you move into the flat?”
“My apartment? About… eleven months ago.”
“Why?”
“Mum told me it was time to move out.”
“Why?”
“What? So I could be independent, I suppose. I didn’t get turfed out like you apparently did, if that’s what you mean.”
“Shut up. What’s your mum like?”
“Like Dad, I guess. Tough. A real bitch when she wants to be. Look, why the hell are you asking this?”
“No reason. Why is it only your apartment that’s occupied on your floor?”
“Huh? Let’s see, I’m number nine. Well, number twelve decided to move in with number eleven, in some miraculous twist of fate. Never been so happy in my life. Twelve was a bitch.”
“Mm. Do you work?”
“Yeah. A video store not far from here. Now would you kindly shut the fuck up?”
Riku pulled to a stop at that. “Oh, am I annoying?” He asked innocently, tugging at the hems of his sleeves to cover his hands.
Demyx sighed exasperatedly at the act. “Yeah, you are. Why are you asking all this stuff anyway?”
“Because I figure I should get to know you. And I have the right to annoy you, don’t I? You’re my big brother, after all.”
Green eyes thinned at that comment. “When last night you were telling me we’re only half-brothers at most, eh?” He asked his charge, tapping one foot.
“So? People change.”
Demyx swore most unbecomingly under his breath after hearing that statement, kicking loose gravel into the closest puddle of mud. Tall, dull buildings rose up on either side of them, and only pigeons seemed to be around to witness this exchange of words. It was like a film noir. All blacks and whites and greys, except for their eyes and his own hair. A quick inspection of his reflection in a nearby puddle that hadn’t been stirred up revealed that a streak of sunlight must have made it through the clouds - his hair was all lit up. Like gold. He touched a strand.
“What are you doing?”
He jerked his hand away from his hair, straightening up. He’d forgotten the boy was around. “What are you talking about? Let’s go.”
And they played follow-the-leader once again, through empty streets and past dark windows that gave no impression of being vacant - rather, it felt like the windows themselves were not just eyes, but they also had eyes of their own watching and trailing along after them. Both young men found themselves shivering more than once.
All was silence, until Demyx, leading the way, abruptly turned a corner and announced: “…We’re nearly there.”
Ten minutes of no talk had made the sudden sentence sound out of place. It hung in the air as if deciding what to do, and vanished as though it had never been there. Riku blinked, startled out of his reverie. “Where?”
“Where we’re meeting my friends. Idiot.” As if to prove his point, he raised an arm and indicated the milling black crowd out beside the half-pipe. A few more people huddled under the shelter a little further away.
Riku scrunched up his nose. “In a skate park? That’s so… clichéd.”
Demyx punched him in the shoulder softly. “Dear brother, don’t let it fool you. There isn’t a person here who can stay on a board for over a minute.”
“Then why -” he began, and broke off as Demyx walked towards the group, calling greetings. “Never mind,” he muttered, following after disconsolately.
The man looked happier than he had ever seen him before, though. So, okay, maybe a single night wasn’t enough to judge a person’s character on, but Riku had really got the impression that Demyx liked to fill in the silence with words, not laughter. Now, however, he seemed genuinely excited, much more animated than he was in the lonely, dull apartment and much more of a people person than Riku would ever have guessed.
“Hey, Riku!”
The words broke into his musings, and he looked up to see Demyx waving him over to a large square-jawed man and two smaller black-clad figures. They all seemed to be wearing the same long black trenchcoat, and he stifled his laughter as he walked over to them. They looked like they were in a gang, Demyx along with them, and Demyx’s image certainly didn’t fit that of a thuggish mobber.
“This is Lexaeus,” Demyx said as soon as Riku was within clear hearing range, indicating the giant with the heavy features beside him. “And Marluxia. And Vexen.” The two shorter men - at least, Riku assumed they were both men, although one of them seemed very, uh, feminine - nodded at him. Maybe Demyx was the only talkative one.
He became slightly unnerved when the giant kept staring at him, and raised a hand to fidget with his fringe embarrassedly. “Uh… hi?” The silver-haired youth eventually said with a false note of cheeriness, hoping to break the ice. The ice that was currently two metres tall and sporting an intent look of concentration directed at him. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to come meet Demyx’s friends, after all.
Marluxia bit his lip when Demyx elbowed him in the ribs, but got the message soon enough. “Uh, Vexen. Why don’t you explain to Riku what our group’s about? Well, anyway, what you do. I think that’ll be enough. Oh, and take him over to meet Luxord. He’ll like Luxord.” He grinned brightly, latching onto Demyx’s arm and taking him away to a lesser-used, smaller half-pipe. A cluster of backpacks sat at its entrance. Curious, Demyx darted away to look at the graffiti on the walls.
“Who’s the kid? One of your new boytoys?” Marluxia could inject all kinds of cynical undertones into his voice, and Demyx winced as he spun to face the man.
“He’s my little brother, apparently.” He offered by way of explanation.
“Are you sure?” Marluxia asked skeptically, arms crossed and one eyebrow raised. “You two don’t look anything alike.”
Demyx laughed, a brittle sound. “Yeah, we get that a lot.” He told his friend, his words dripping with sarcasm. “Because, y’know, we’ve been brothers for such a long time -” Suddenly remembering something, he spun and darted over to the pile of bags, picking out the black-and-yellow one and rifling through its pockets.
Marluxia watched. “Two things. One, if it’s true, you’ve been brothers ever since he was born. You just didn’t know it. Two, Larx’ll skin you alive and feed your balls to piranhas if she ever catches you.,” he informed Demyx, a hint of amusement tinting his voice.
“Smartass. So don’t tell her.” He’d finally found what he was searching for; he quickly pocketed the two pencil-thin white rolls with a feeling of triumph before anyone else saw what he was doing, zipped the bag up hurriedly and slipped back to Marluxia’s side where he’d been only scant moments before. “You won’t tell, will you?”
The pink-haired man laughed. “And die myself because I didn’t stop you? I won’t tell.” He said, ruffling the youth’s hair.
“Good.” Demyx smiled.
“That’s not saying I won’t turn you over if she figures it out, though. Better one than two, and better you than me.”
Demyx pouted. “Got it,” he sighed dejectedly.
Marluxia chuckled and laced his fingers around the nape of his friend’s neck. “Now, how about we head back. You’d better go see Larxene or you might die before she even has the chance to kill you for stealing her stuff, and I’m supposed to tell you about a funeral.”
“Funeral? Who’d she kill?” The mullet-haired boy piped up, interested. They began walking back. In the distance, they could see Riku gesturing animatedly to a tall blond; the gambler Luxord was showing off his card tricks again.
“Just the cat. Twinky. Well, she claims she didn’t kill it, but we know different, don’t we?”
“Twinky? That murderess! I loved that cat!”
“More than it loved you or life, apparently.”
Demyx replied with a poking-out of his tongue and dashed forward to watch Luxord with Riku. Marluxia found himself wondering just which one was the elder; if indeed they were related at all.
-x-x-x-
“They’re pretty cool. Your friends, I mean.”
“I guessed that. You couldn’t possibly be talking about my amazing collection of vinyl over in the corner there, the collection that you’re currently crushing with your feet.” Demyx responded dryly. “What size are you? They look like clown feet!”
“Thanks ever so much,” Riku said lazily from his spot on the edge of that worn blue couch. “They’re big, I know. I got it already. But you know what they say about big feet…” He let the comment hang in the air, adopting a sleazy tone.
A pillow hit him in the face. It was moved to reveal Demyx’s features. “Should you say that to your own brother?” He retorted, smacking him once more and ignoring the muffled yelp. “I’m not some crackwhore you can try your shitty pickup lines on whenever you want to get laid.”
“Believe me,” came the muffled answer; the boy had decided to cover his face with another of the numerous cushions, in case of future attacks. “I wouldn’t be trying them on you. Don’t you have any pretty girls around? My age? Your age, even? I’m not picky, as long as they’re hot.”
“Horny little bugger, aren’t you?” Amusement leaked through the words.
“I’m a healthy seventeen-year-old. What wouldn’t be normal,” Riku rejoined, flipping himself onto his stomach, “is languishing here, day in, day out, without a woman to keep me company.”
Demyx’s face contorted into an expression of disgust. “Seventeen and sexing it up? Keep your pants on while you’re here. I don’t want any girls coming around telling me all weepy-like that you’ve broken their hearts. I’m sure you were such a lady-killer back at your home, too.”
Aquamarine eyes flashed as Riku raised his head. “So now you’re my dad?”
“Why does the conversation always come back to how we’re related?” the honey-haired man grumbled, grabbing two glasses out from the cabinet the TV rested on. “The point is, my apartment, my rules. If I don’t want this dump turned into a warzone then it’s my choice. Not yours.”
Riku growled deep in his throat and threw himself back down on the couch, ignoring the juice Demyx sat on the table beside him.
At length, Demyx finished his drink, and, with a parting pull of Riku’s blue bedsocks, he left.
Riku didn’t move.
-x-x-x-
Well. That's the first part. That's... um, a little less than half of what I've got, I think. Long by my standards. Hell, I'm the one who fits half my stuff into under a hundred words.
So. I love Twinky. Demyx dresses in tweed for the poor thing's funeral. And the clothes they're discussing are totally from a conversation ninja-butterfly and I had once upon a time. I think I'll edit it a litle to have Riku talk more about Demyx's friends - I don't see him being quiet about something social like that. But I love writing this - I can picture every scene as I write it and everything! ^^
Criticism is loved/adored/wanted/used/worshipped. Especially from a certain someone. ^^ I really want to know how this is going. And ohmygod, will the smut be hard to write~~~~~ (but write it I must/will.)
EDIT:
They bring back the Digimon theme in episode 14. You know when the Digimon Digivolve? The vocal one's back, where they chant. Oh, how I love it~~~ and there's no way TK is purely straight. When Angemon Digivolved into his big, tough self - the really buff, attractive angel form - TK's comment was 'I wanna take him home with me!' Tell me, what kind of kid says that when the thing is no longer cute and cuddly? ^^ *reading into this way too much* And File Island. Then Server Island. What's next, Address Island? HTTP Island? Maybe it's URL Island. *giggling* But I find myself wanting to get to Season 2 so much right now. I guess, I just love having all of the Digidestined in there. Not just these seven, but Kari too, and the wonderful Ken and Davis and Yolei and Cody and all those others (Michael! MICHAELLLL!) too! And when I see them, I will squiggle gleefully. *shot*
Uhm, just sticking up what I'm working on right now. A (WTF?!) Demyx x Riku fic. I started tophats & turnstiles with the intention of ending up with Riku and Sora, and Demyx and Zexion, and Cloud and Leon, to name a few. Okay, so it's more complicated than that, but basically it'd end up RikuxSora. However, in the first chapter, I worked out that I wanted more Riku and Demyx interaction, because their parts were the only bits turning out any good. Then I thought it could be an interesting way to start off the RikuxSora - by getting Demyx to bring Riku into his world, pretty much. Then it started controlling my mind and telling me that I should be writing RikuxDemyx, not RikuxSora. Or, at least, some RikuxDemyx in there. And there probably will be, anyway. But the point it, that was how tohats & turnstiles kept going, and it was driving me insane because I didn't want it like that for the particular story. So glass-metric wisely and wonderfully suggested that I simply get the RikuxDemyx out of my system with another fic. It was probably so that I'd finally get around to tophats & turnstiles, but it worked. I'm working on a mega-long oneshot now, on RikuxDemyx. So much love~♥
Brothers on a Hotel Bed
but even at our swiftest speed
we couldn’t break from the concrete -
in the city where we still reside.
---Death Cab For Cutie.
The doorbell rang.
Now, when the doorbell of the only occupied apartment on the third floor of a run-down old building rings, it is generally not wise to ignore it.
Unfortunately, the owner of the only occupied apartment on the third floor of this run-down building was not only incredibly dense when it came to protocol and wisdom in general; he was also asleep. Dozing on the equally-dilapidated faded blue couch in the lounge-cum-studio room, to be exact.
The doorbell rang.
One arm snaked up to rub his brow, then dropped back to hang uselessly by his side. This young man was going nowhere anytime soon.
The doorbell rang.
However, at the same time the microwave beeped: a heavy scent pervaded the air, a strong waft of curried chicken reached the nostrils of the sleeping, black-clad man. His nostrils twitched in response; the irritatingly cheery, repetitive sound of the age-old electronic doorbell went unnoticed. The youth rolled over.
A smash resounded through the small apartment, and the youth who had been simply rolling over instead rolled off the couch with a muffled landing thud and an unintelligible yell of pain. Lurching to his feet, he stumbled the twelve steps - he had counted, many a time - to the front door, with its splitting fake wood finish and its tarnished door knob. Grabbing the handle with one slim hand, he yanked it open.
And ended up on the floor. Again. With an armful of person.
There was a grunt, and the intruder gave a sour grunt as - he? It had to be a he, by the voice - placed his hands on either side of the flat’s owner and shoved himself off. Baleful aquamarine eyes glared down into sleep-muddled green ones.
Demyx shook his head. And shook it again, trying to get rid of that damned ringing. His vision clouded, he stared up for a few moments, waiting for his mind to register what he was seeing. His hands scrabbled to find a purchase somewhere, anywhere, and settled on the hips of the being currently sitting astride him.
A fist crashed into his jaw.
“Fuck.”
And thus, with that single expletive, Demyx Iglesias met Riku Hamasaki.
-x-x-x-
“So, who’re you?” Demyx asked the - guy? He still supposed it had to be a guy, but that silver hair was really long and really pretty - at his dinner table, the one that was actually a coffee table seated in front of that couch where he’d so comfortably drifted off to sleep earlier. Well, they were eating dinner at it anyway. He saw no reason to be nitpicky about such insignificant details, like whether or not he really owned a dinner table. Or whether this mysterious stranger who he’d just offered a bowl of chicken and rice to was male or female.
Those piercing pale eyes looked intently at him again. Demyx pretended to not notice and instead forked a few more mouthfuls of chicken into his mouth. A guest was no reason to diet.
All was silence for a few moments more, and just as Demyx was becoming slightly unnerved, the youth - he must’ve been only two or three years younger than Demyx himself - moved. Green eyes blinked suddenly as a folded piece of paper was thrust between his nose and his bowl. Slowly, he put his dish and cutlery down and took the sheet; unfolding it, he scanned the words.
He found he had to read them through several times. Even then, he still didn’t understand, and finally glanced up, ignoring a spike of honey-shaded hair dangling in his eyes to scrutinize the youth across from him.
Riku spoke up, at long last. “Read it?” He queried, with a hint of impatience.
Demyx nodded. “But I don’t get it,” he told him earnestly.
The silver-haired boy sighed, irritated. “Quote, ‘Riku, your mother and I have decided that it’s time to tell you… half-brother from a past marriage, here’s the address… blah, blah… money to go find him… take your time, cheers! Love, Dad.’ Unquote. Explain enough for you?”
“…Hell, no.” He answered, still confused.
There was another sigh. “You’re not particularly quick on the uptake, are you?”
Demyx wrinkled his nose. “Refrain from insulting your host, please. Especially if this is real and you’re my - what, my little brother? What the hell.”
“Half-brother. Or half-little brother. Little half-brother. Shit, that’s confusing.” Riku said moodily, looking down at his barely-touched bowl of chicken. “And even not that, maybe. My mum or whoever she is probably got around too. Worse than Dad.” He snorted, gently blowing away silver strands.
Demyx felt a sudden pang of sympathy. “So, our dad sent you.” He enquired gently, leaning forward impulsively, hands in his lap. The letter was lying on the table. “What’s he like?”
Riku looked briefly surprised for a second. “Like anyone’s old man. Tough bastard, honey sweet when he wants to be, a real jerk sometimes. Dad-like. Loves golf.”
“What’s his name?”
Now the look of confusion was overtaking the surprise. “You don’t even know what your own father’s name is?”
Demyx shook his fair head. “Nope. Mum never told me. D’you know what your mum’s name is?”
The suddenly young-looking boy glared at him again. His silence answered for him. After a quick flurry of thoughts, the older rose, grabbing his plate on the way up. “Get it,” he said, inclining his head at the bowl before his new-found brother. “Might as well stick it in the fridge if you’re not going to eat it now.”
It was strange, feeling the presence of someone pattering after you in the home you’d been accustomed to living in by yourself for so long, but Demyx quickly adjusted. Holding out a box of cling wrap to the other boy without looking at him, he pushed the dishwasher open with one foot, rolled out the bottom drawer with the toes on said foot, and dumped his bowl and fork in without aplomb. A second fork slid in with a rattle beside his own; he glanced up to see the boy turning away to contemplate the space in the fridge, no doubt wondering where to put his leftovers. Demyx grabbed it off him and shoved the bowl in beside a container of apple and blackcurrant juice, pushing the door closed almost as he did so.
He walked back out to the lounge room, again sensing Riku following after him, and collapsed on the couch. A minute passed before Riku sat beside him, keeping his limbs to himself unlike Demyx who was sprawled over more than half of the already small space.
“We’re a mess, aren’t we.” Demyx said after a while. Riku didn’t look at him, just kept watching straight ahead at where a television set stood, black screen enticing with all the well-known mysteries it contained. Demyx frowned at him and flung his arms over the back of the couch, sighing. “I mean, look at us. Two guys who are probably half-brothers and only just found out, one dad in common. One of us doesn’t know the name of his dad. One of us doesn’t know the name of his ma. You’re freakin’ miles away from home now - where did you live anyway, kid? - and I’ve suddenly got some new roommate for no reason at all. You probably haven’t even finished school -”
“Have so.”
“Okay, so you’re just out of school, and you’ve got no clue about what kind of person I am, or me about you. You’re like a little kitten thrust out into the big wide world by its owners. Given to me, of all people. Who the hell’d trust me with anything, let alone anyone?” He snorted again, blowing at his short gelled fringe. It had become a habit. “To top it all off, I’ve got a bloody bruise on my chin - why’d you do that anyway?”
Slim silver eyebrows snapped together and Riku turned to look him properly in the eye for the first time in over an hour. “You groped me.” He offered by way of explanation.
Demyx gaped at him. “I - what? Okay, I don’t know what kind of world you’ve been livin’ in, kid, but not every guy you meet is a gay child molester. I couldn’t see, okay? And some random just fell on me. What would you do if you were in that situation?”
There was no reply. Demyx scowled at him and felt around on the tiny table beside his armrest for the remote control. Finding it, he flipped the TV on and chucked it to the boy.
“You should probably get some sleep. It’s past nine already, and traveling makes people tired. I’m going to bed too. Don’t wake me up. We’ll sort this out properly tomorrow.” He flapped a hand at Riku and sauntered off without so much as a ‘good night’.
Riku stared after him, then turned back to the TV. When the overhead light went off, he didn’t blink an eye, just kept staring at the bright moving images on the TV screen.
He started about an hour later, when a navy blue woolen blanket landed on his head. Looking up to see a Demyx in white pyjamas, he blinked and locked eyes with him.
Demyx spoke first. “Don’t get cold.” Was all he said, face emotionless; he then spun on his heel and headed away again, presumably back to his bedroom. Riku wasn’t sure; he hadn’t yet been given the grand tour, not that there appeared to be much else to the apartment anyway. He watched the dark hallway for a little longer, then faced the television again, settling the blanket under his neck and ignoring his legs. The black-and-white light flickered eerily over his impassive features.
-x-x-x-
“Oi.”
“Mm…”
“Oi. Demyx. Whatever your name is.”
“…bugger off, Riku. Didn’t I tell you yesterday not to wake me up?”
Riku, sniffed, straightening up and crossing his arms. “Whatever. The eggs are burning.”
Demyx shot bolt upright on the kitchen chair he’d fallen asleep on waiting for the eggs to cook. “Shit!” He hissed, leaping out of the chair and grabbing the frying pan, flipping eggs at incredible speed. “Why didn’t you do something about it?” He growled at Riku, who pouted disdainfully.
“I don’t live here.”
“You do now, apparently. Get some plates unless you don’t want to eat today.”
Riku rummaged through the pantry and returned with two plates, onto which he tossed the salvages of the morning’s cooking attempt on two separate plates, patting each pile of black and white and yellow mournfully with the spatula. “Hope you didn’t want ‘em with runny yolk,” Demyx commented, pulling the salt and pepper out of a cupboard below the thin bench.
“I did, actually.”
“That’s too bad. Do it yourself next time.”
Riku eyed him grumpily. “O’ gracious host,” he intoned, but wisely chose to eat instead of saying anything more.
Demyx eyed him warily over his steaming plate, but also decided to stay silent, simply shoving the salt and pepper towards him, something Riku accepted with skeptically wide eyes - was he trying to make peace?
“Anyway,” the host of the household said, after a while. “You’re lucky I didn’t just make you eat the curry from last night.”
There was no response, but, glancing up, Demyx managed to catch a glimpse of the flash of a smile. The mere ghost, but it still felt rewarding. His lips curved upwards slightly as he looked back down at his fork, egg impaled on the end of it, feeling absurdly pleased with himself.
-x-x-x-
Demyx chuckled as the thump-thump-thump of following, rushed footsteps echoed down the hall. A small time later, a head popped over the balcony. Riku looked different from below, he mused to himself, laughing at the ridiculous thought. His face was almost completely shadowed by that long silver hair; the hands on either side of the head made the picture comical.
“Where are you going?” Beneath the irritated mask, there was a thread of panic. Probably thought he was being ditched or something.
“Steady up. What kind of family did you come from, kid?” The older man queried. He didn’t even consider the possible insult involved in calling his ‘half-brother’ a kid, stripping off one black glove and rubbing his hand. The fingers were tender - he’d written scores of music last night, pages and pages that would never see the light of day. It was just something he did when something major happened in his life; and by anyone’s standards, a brother showing up out of nowhere counted as something big. “What, did they abandon you or something? Or don’t tell me you were so pampered you were never alone.”
Above, Riku narrowed his pretty, good-at-looking-angry eyes in disbelief. “What - okay, you’re seriously screwed in the head.” He shook his own, and tried repeating his question. “Where are you going?” The second attempt was much more controlled. More anger, less worry. He found he was quite proud of himself. He had always been good at fooling people.
A snort sounded up the stairs from the floor down. “Bullshit.” Demyx clearly didn’t believe any of the bravado, something Riku tried to ignore. He could make anyone believe him. “You want to come?”
Riku nearly snarled. “But where the fuck are you going? That’s what I’ve been asking!”
“Haha. Oh.” Those slender fingers scratched at his skull for a moment. “Out to see some friends. You coming? If you’re going to be staying here, which you clearly are since your parents obviously don’t want you around -”
“Take that back.”
“- taken back already, sheesh. Daddy's boy. Anyway. You might as well meet the people I hang with, or you’ll never get to know the place.”
They stared at each other for a moment, then Riku gave a terse nod and disappeared from the balcony. Demyx stood watching the spot he’d been, pulling on the leather glove again and shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket. When Riku reappeared, he was still gazing upwards. The boy only took a quick look over to see if he was still there, then raced down the stairs.
For someone who was taller than him, he seemed strangely childish. “Sheltered life,” the older of the two muttered to himself as they continued to the front entrance.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Riku smacked him on the back as they exited the building, and Demyx laughed. Demyx liked laughing.
They continued down the street, Riku firing off questions like an inquisitive little kid all the while. It was such a change from the dour withdrawn personality from before that Demyx didn’t know whether to act amused, irritated, surprised, or all of them at once.
“When did you move into the flat?”
“My apartment? About… eleven months ago.”
“Why?”
“Mum told me it was time to move out.”
“Why?”
“What? So I could be independent, I suppose. I didn’t get turfed out like you apparently did, if that’s what you mean.”
“Shut up. What’s your mum like?”
“Like Dad, I guess. Tough. A real bitch when she wants to be. Look, why the hell are you asking this?”
“No reason. Why is it only your apartment that’s occupied on your floor?”
“Huh? Let’s see, I’m number nine. Well, number twelve decided to move in with number eleven, in some miraculous twist of fate. Never been so happy in my life. Twelve was a bitch.”
“Mm. Do you work?”
“Yeah. A video store not far from here. Now would you kindly shut the fuck up?”
Riku pulled to a stop at that. “Oh, am I annoying?” He asked innocently, tugging at the hems of his sleeves to cover his hands.
Demyx sighed exasperatedly at the act. “Yeah, you are. Why are you asking all this stuff anyway?”
“Because I figure I should get to know you. And I have the right to annoy you, don’t I? You’re my big brother, after all.”
Green eyes thinned at that comment. “When last night you were telling me we’re only half-brothers at most, eh?” He asked his charge, tapping one foot.
“So? People change.”
Demyx swore most unbecomingly under his breath after hearing that statement, kicking loose gravel into the closest puddle of mud. Tall, dull buildings rose up on either side of them, and only pigeons seemed to be around to witness this exchange of words. It was like a film noir. All blacks and whites and greys, except for their eyes and his own hair. A quick inspection of his reflection in a nearby puddle that hadn’t been stirred up revealed that a streak of sunlight must have made it through the clouds - his hair was all lit up. Like gold. He touched a strand.
“What are you doing?”
He jerked his hand away from his hair, straightening up. He’d forgotten the boy was around. “What are you talking about? Let’s go.”
And they played follow-the-leader once again, through empty streets and past dark windows that gave no impression of being vacant - rather, it felt like the windows themselves were not just eyes, but they also had eyes of their own watching and trailing along after them. Both young men found themselves shivering more than once.
All was silence, until Demyx, leading the way, abruptly turned a corner and announced: “…We’re nearly there.”
Ten minutes of no talk had made the sudden sentence sound out of place. It hung in the air as if deciding what to do, and vanished as though it had never been there. Riku blinked, startled out of his reverie. “Where?”
“Where we’re meeting my friends. Idiot.” As if to prove his point, he raised an arm and indicated the milling black crowd out beside the half-pipe. A few more people huddled under the shelter a little further away.
Riku scrunched up his nose. “In a skate park? That’s so… clichéd.”
Demyx punched him in the shoulder softly. “Dear brother, don’t let it fool you. There isn’t a person here who can stay on a board for over a minute.”
“Then why -” he began, and broke off as Demyx walked towards the group, calling greetings. “Never mind,” he muttered, following after disconsolately.
The man looked happier than he had ever seen him before, though. So, okay, maybe a single night wasn’t enough to judge a person’s character on, but Riku had really got the impression that Demyx liked to fill in the silence with words, not laughter. Now, however, he seemed genuinely excited, much more animated than he was in the lonely, dull apartment and much more of a people person than Riku would ever have guessed.
“Hey, Riku!”
The words broke into his musings, and he looked up to see Demyx waving him over to a large square-jawed man and two smaller black-clad figures. They all seemed to be wearing the same long black trenchcoat, and he stifled his laughter as he walked over to them. They looked like they were in a gang, Demyx along with them, and Demyx’s image certainly didn’t fit that of a thuggish mobber.
“This is Lexaeus,” Demyx said as soon as Riku was within clear hearing range, indicating the giant with the heavy features beside him. “And Marluxia. And Vexen.” The two shorter men - at least, Riku assumed they were both men, although one of them seemed very, uh, feminine - nodded at him. Maybe Demyx was the only talkative one.
He became slightly unnerved when the giant kept staring at him, and raised a hand to fidget with his fringe embarrassedly. “Uh… hi?” The silver-haired youth eventually said with a false note of cheeriness, hoping to break the ice. The ice that was currently two metres tall and sporting an intent look of concentration directed at him. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to come meet Demyx’s friends, after all.
Marluxia bit his lip when Demyx elbowed him in the ribs, but got the message soon enough. “Uh, Vexen. Why don’t you explain to Riku what our group’s about? Well, anyway, what you do. I think that’ll be enough. Oh, and take him over to meet Luxord. He’ll like Luxord.” He grinned brightly, latching onto Demyx’s arm and taking him away to a lesser-used, smaller half-pipe. A cluster of backpacks sat at its entrance. Curious, Demyx darted away to look at the graffiti on the walls.
“Who’s the kid? One of your new boytoys?” Marluxia could inject all kinds of cynical undertones into his voice, and Demyx winced as he spun to face the man.
“He’s my little brother, apparently.” He offered by way of explanation.
“Are you sure?” Marluxia asked skeptically, arms crossed and one eyebrow raised. “You two don’t look anything alike.”
Demyx laughed, a brittle sound. “Yeah, we get that a lot.” He told his friend, his words dripping with sarcasm. “Because, y’know, we’ve been brothers for such a long time -” Suddenly remembering something, he spun and darted over to the pile of bags, picking out the black-and-yellow one and rifling through its pockets.
Marluxia watched. “Two things. One, if it’s true, you’ve been brothers ever since he was born. You just didn’t know it. Two, Larx’ll skin you alive and feed your balls to piranhas if she ever catches you.,” he informed Demyx, a hint of amusement tinting his voice.
“Smartass. So don’t tell her.” He’d finally found what he was searching for; he quickly pocketed the two pencil-thin white rolls with a feeling of triumph before anyone else saw what he was doing, zipped the bag up hurriedly and slipped back to Marluxia’s side where he’d been only scant moments before. “You won’t tell, will you?”
The pink-haired man laughed. “And die myself because I didn’t stop you? I won’t tell.” He said, ruffling the youth’s hair.
“Good.” Demyx smiled.
“That’s not saying I won’t turn you over if she figures it out, though. Better one than two, and better you than me.”
Demyx pouted. “Got it,” he sighed dejectedly.
Marluxia chuckled and laced his fingers around the nape of his friend’s neck. “Now, how about we head back. You’d better go see Larxene or you might die before she even has the chance to kill you for stealing her stuff, and I’m supposed to tell you about a funeral.”
“Funeral? Who’d she kill?” The mullet-haired boy piped up, interested. They began walking back. In the distance, they could see Riku gesturing animatedly to a tall blond; the gambler Luxord was showing off his card tricks again.
“Just the cat. Twinky. Well, she claims she didn’t kill it, but we know different, don’t we?”
“Twinky? That murderess! I loved that cat!”
“More than it loved you or life, apparently.”
Demyx replied with a poking-out of his tongue and dashed forward to watch Luxord with Riku. Marluxia found himself wondering just which one was the elder; if indeed they were related at all.
-x-x-x-
“They’re pretty cool. Your friends, I mean.”
“I guessed that. You couldn’t possibly be talking about my amazing collection of vinyl over in the corner there, the collection that you’re currently crushing with your feet.” Demyx responded dryly. “What size are you? They look like clown feet!”
“Thanks ever so much,” Riku said lazily from his spot on the edge of that worn blue couch. “They’re big, I know. I got it already. But you know what they say about big feet…” He let the comment hang in the air, adopting a sleazy tone.
A pillow hit him in the face. It was moved to reveal Demyx’s features. “Should you say that to your own brother?” He retorted, smacking him once more and ignoring the muffled yelp. “I’m not some crackwhore you can try your shitty pickup lines on whenever you want to get laid.”
“Believe me,” came the muffled answer; the boy had decided to cover his face with another of the numerous cushions, in case of future attacks. “I wouldn’t be trying them on you. Don’t you have any pretty girls around? My age? Your age, even? I’m not picky, as long as they’re hot.”
“Horny little bugger, aren’t you?” Amusement leaked through the words.
“I’m a healthy seventeen-year-old. What wouldn’t be normal,” Riku rejoined, flipping himself onto his stomach, “is languishing here, day in, day out, without a woman to keep me company.”
Demyx’s face contorted into an expression of disgust. “Seventeen and sexing it up? Keep your pants on while you’re here. I don’t want any girls coming around telling me all weepy-like that you’ve broken their hearts. I’m sure you were such a lady-killer back at your home, too.”
Aquamarine eyes flashed as Riku raised his head. “So now you’re my dad?”
“Why does the conversation always come back to how we’re related?” the honey-haired man grumbled, grabbing two glasses out from the cabinet the TV rested on. “The point is, my apartment, my rules. If I don’t want this dump turned into a warzone then it’s my choice. Not yours.”
Riku growled deep in his throat and threw himself back down on the couch, ignoring the juice Demyx sat on the table beside him.
At length, Demyx finished his drink, and, with a parting pull of Riku’s blue bedsocks, he left.
Riku didn’t move.
-x-x-x-
Well. That's the first part. That's... um, a little less than half of what I've got, I think. Long by my standards. Hell, I'm the one who fits half my stuff into under a hundred words.
So. I love Twinky. Demyx dresses in tweed for the poor thing's funeral. And the clothes they're discussing are totally from a conversation ninja-butterfly and I had once upon a time. I think I'll edit it a litle to have Riku talk more about Demyx's friends - I don't see him being quiet about something social like that. But I love writing this - I can picture every scene as I write it and everything! ^^
Criticism is loved/adored/wanted/used/worshipped. Especially from a certain someone. ^^ I really want to know how this is going. And ohmygod, will the smut be hard to write~~~~~ (but write it I must/will.)
EDIT:
They bring back the Digimon theme in episode 14. You know when the Digimon Digivolve? The vocal one's back, where they chant. Oh, how I love it~~~ and there's no way TK is purely straight. When Angemon Digivolved into his big, tough self - the really buff, attractive angel form - TK's comment was 'I wanna take him home with me!' Tell me, what kind of kid says that when the thing is no longer cute and cuddly? ^^ *reading into this way too much* And File Island. Then Server Island. What's next, Address Island? HTTP Island? Maybe it's URL Island. *giggling* But I find myself wanting to get to Season 2 so much right now. I guess, I just love having all of the Digidestined in there. Not just these seven, but Kari too, and the wonderful Ken and Davis and Yolei and Cody and all those others (Michael! MICHAELLLL!) too! And when I see them, I will squiggle gleefully. *shot*