Fic - Kingdom Hearts II
All the black made him look taller, he determined, although he’d probably look better with a tan - he seemed kind of washed out without one. At least the blue shirt he was wearing brought out the colour of his eyes, although he doubted that the rest of the members of his new ‘organization’ would approve. They all tended to wear black, black and nothing but black, but Demyx liked blue better. Or, at least he thought he did. Used to. Whatever. And it wasn’t like anyone would be able to see it when his coat was zipped up anyway.
Which was kind of a shame Demyx thought, because the coat really looked much cooler undone, hanging open to show off the sleek, well-toned length of his body and the soft supple boots that clung seductively to his legs, all the way up to the knees. The white stripes across the top of the boots looked a little weird amidst all that black, but that was okay too - the difference was noticeable, eye-catching, and Demyx liked attention.
Finished admiring the boots, Demyx stooped over to pick up the last item that went with his new ‘uniform’ - a pair of elbow-length gloves. They were long and sleekly black, made of the same butter-soft leather as the boots, and Demyx could tell just by looking at them that they would fit him like a second skin. He contemplated for a moment how he should wear them - the redheaded member of the Organization, the one who had shown him to this room to get dressed, wore his on the outside of his coat, letting them mould to his forearms and contain the wide billowing sleeves that probably got in the way of those wicked looking chakrams he wielded - but Demyx didn’t contemplate the idea for long. He wouldn’t really need to keep the sleeves back after all, he had little intention of fighting and even less of carrying a weapon like that, and it would probably be uncomfortable to confine them like that.
Besides, he acknowledged as he leisurely rolled the black leather up over his hands and bare forearms, he’d be able to show them off whenever he raised his arms high enough to let the sleeves fall back. Which would be cool, in a dramatic, sexy kind of way. And being dramatic was important, it got people’s attention, made them notice you long enough that you could draw them in the rest of the way, make yourself unforgettable.
“Oi rookie,” a voice called from the other side of the door, accompanied by a perfunctory knock. Demyx could easily picture the redhead - Axel, he remembered - lounging on the floor outside the door with his long legs thrust out in front of him, a picture of bored insouciance. “You finished admiring yourself in there? You’re keeping everyone waiting.”
“Yeah, I’m coming,” Demyx called back, straightening his gloves once more before letting his hands fall to the zipper of his coat. There was a strange feeling in his stomach, a lazy clench of nerves and anticipation that tugged at his senses and filled him with a heady sort of euphoria that was almost equal parts nervousness and excitement. He wasn’t sure where the feeling had come from, but took comfort in it as something almost-familiar in a world that was new and dark and nothing like anything he thought he almost remembered about whatever had come before.
“Well hurry it up,” Axel’s voice came again, and Demyx gave himself a shaky smile in the mirror as he looked at the study of contrasts staring back at him out of that polished glass.
“Alright,” he declared, not really knowing why he said it but feeling strangely right in doing so. “It’s show time.”
Which was kind of a shame Demyx thought, because the coat really looked much cooler undone, hanging open to show off the sleek, well-toned length of his body and the soft supple boots that clung seductively to his legs, all the way up to the knees. The white stripes across the top of the boots looked a little weird amidst all that black, but that was okay too - the difference was noticeable, eye-catching, and Demyx liked attention.
Finished admiring the boots, Demyx stooped over to pick up the last item that went with his new ‘uniform’ - a pair of elbow-length gloves. They were long and sleekly black, made of the same butter-soft leather as the boots, and Demyx could tell just by looking at them that they would fit him like a second skin. He contemplated for a moment how he should wear them - the redheaded member of the Organization, the one who had shown him to this room to get dressed, wore his on the outside of his coat, letting them mould to his forearms and contain the wide billowing sleeves that probably got in the way of those wicked looking chakrams he wielded - but Demyx didn’t contemplate the idea for long. He wouldn’t really need to keep the sleeves back after all, he had little intention of fighting and even less of carrying a weapon like that, and it would probably be uncomfortable to confine them like that.
Besides, he acknowledged as he leisurely rolled the black leather up over his hands and bare forearms, he’d be able to show them off whenever he raised his arms high enough to let the sleeves fall back. Which would be cool, in a dramatic, sexy kind of way. And being dramatic was important, it got people’s attention, made them notice you long enough that you could draw them in the rest of the way, make yourself unforgettable.
“Oi rookie,” a voice called from the other side of the door, accompanied by a perfunctory knock. Demyx could easily picture the redhead - Axel, he remembered - lounging on the floor outside the door with his long legs thrust out in front of him, a picture of bored insouciance. “You finished admiring yourself in there? You’re keeping everyone waiting.”
“Yeah, I’m coming,” Demyx called back, straightening his gloves once more before letting his hands fall to the zipper of his coat. There was a strange feeling in his stomach, a lazy clench of nerves and anticipation that tugged at his senses and filled him with a heady sort of euphoria that was almost equal parts nervousness and excitement. He wasn’t sure where the feeling had come from, but took comfort in it as something almost-familiar in a world that was new and dark and nothing like anything he thought he almost remembered about whatever had come before.
“Well hurry it up,” Axel’s voice came again, and Demyx gave himself a shaky smile in the mirror as he looked at the study of contrasts staring back at him out of that polished glass.
“Alright,” he declared, not really knowing why he said it but feeling strangely right in doing so. “It’s show time.”