How to lose a roommate in one week (Part 2)
Friday night was not his favorite night of week. Although Demyx didn’t actively try to find parties, he usually ended up somewhere and “hung out” with people who he didn’t know. His friends didn’t really know anyone one personally who lived off campus, so random house parties that they heard about were usually on their itinerary. Most of the time, he would spend three dollars a cup on Natty Light, which tasted like regurgitated frat boy piss, or mooching off one of the girls in their group, who did not have to pay for the piss.
If all else failed, which Demyx was always glad when that happened, they would go to the only 18 and older club in town and just go dancing. Demyx actually enjoyed dancing even to the crappy music. Most of the others guys whined about how they wanted to get tanked instead of being at the stupid club getting the lame black x written on their hand with permanent marker. He supposed that they could have gotten fake ID’s, but none of them really knew anyone who actually sold those. They only knew someone who knew someone, who got caught, and now, have a criminal background for making them.
However, this Friday evening, Demyx had bought a shiny metal whistle at the sport shop in the rec center. He had asked for the loudest one that they had, and they had guaranteed him, or his money back, that if he was lost in the woods, this whistle could be heard in a one mile radius.
Also, this Friday night, Demyx planned on finding something of Roxas’s that was precious, and he had convinced himself that he was going to chuck it into the trash. Not the trashcan in their room but the dumpster outside.
So at 10:00 p.m. on a Friday night, Demyx was rummaging through Roxas’s desk trying desperately to find something that may have some value to his roommate. Demyx had already checked the closet, and there really was nothing in there that was worth much. The worn down skateboard didn’t seem extraordinary, and his clothes weren’t expensive looking. All of them were pretty plain, and Demyx hadn’t notice anything that Roxas wore more often than anything else.
There were some photos in the first drawer of Roxas’s desk. They were of Roxas, two teenaged guys, and a brown-haired girl. More photos of Roxas and a boy who had Roxas’s eyes, but spiky brown hair, which Demyx assumed was Sora, were with them. Demyx‘s eyes widened at the sight of perfectly good blackmail-out-of-the-room material, a sketch of Roxas wearing a light green sundress. When he looked closer, he could see that it wasn’t Roxas, but an older woman who resembled him. The sketch was done so well, that if it wasn’t on rough paper he could have sworn it was a photograph. Roxas was a fruit anyways; the blackmail probably would not have worked.
The second drawer was worthless, containing only returned school papers and tests. His roommate kept the useless scantron sheets that had none of the test questions on them, just the bubbles with the darkened letters. Demyx noticed that most of his grades on the papers were A’s or high B’s. The bottom drawer held a hodgepodge of random school receipts and scholarship information. This was a complete waste of Demyx’s time.
Roxas was boring. There was no collection, no journal, and no knickknacks from foreign places. Demyx could throw out the photos and the sketch, but that seemed too personal. He checked the top of Roxas’s organized desk one more time and noticed a small sparkly red case tucked in his roommate’s pencil holder between two grey erasers. Picking it up, he realized that it was the Zippo, which Demyx had seen Roxas flick open repeatedly the first couple of weeks that they had been at school. Demyx forgot about it, because Roxas stopped playing with it soon after things got settled.
This was the perfect throw away item. Roxas didn’t smoke, so there was no reason for him to even keep the lighter. It seemed personal, but wasn’t irreplaceable like photos or sketches. Gripping the lighter tightly in his right hand, he tried to straighten up what he had disturbed on the desk with his left. It would be a matter of hours before Roxas moved out.
It was 4:30 a.m. and Roxas had come back three hours ago, fumbling around, more than tipsy from the alcohol he had consumed. The house party that he had attended had jello shots, and Roxas liked watermelon-flavored jello. Demyx knew this because as soon as he opened the door, he announced to Demyx that he loved watermelon jello. As soon as he announced this, the other guys in the corridor who went along with Roxas agreed unanimously, right outside of their closed door. Demyx heard them hushing each other loudly so that Marly wouldn’t catch them. Luckily for them, Marly was not in tonight.
Now with only the faint glow of a street lamp a hundred yards away, coming through his window, the whistle sparkled between his puckered lips. He had been a lifeguard once for a public pool and the metal on his teeth reminded him of those long days of sitting next to a pool without actually being able to jump in. He only worked two weeks before he had to quit that job.
He sucked in all of the air that his lungs could hold and blew. The shrill sound rang in Demyx’s ear, and he had to stop prematurely from the pain.
Startled, Roxas was up and fell hard as a heap onto the floor. Demyx’s eyes were already adjusted to the dark, so he was able to make out his roommate’s stunned expression. He looked dazed for only a second, then a look of realization dawned on him. His blissful drunken state was long gone, and a dark sinister expression took over his face.
The next thing that Demyx knew, he is being shoved up against the closet door roughly, his head making a hollow crack when connecting with the flimsy plywood. The whistle let out a small noise before it clinked against his teeth and tumbled away. The 5’3¾’ blond had grabbed the front of Demyx’s shirt and proceeded to manhandle him effortlessly. With the weak stench of alcohol still on his breath, Roxas pulled Demyx face closer to his so that they were eye level. If the threat of bodily harm was not so imminent, Demyx might have thought that the reason that his heart skipped a beat was due to their physical proximity.
“I’m only going to ask this once. What the fuck?” Roxas growled as glowered at Demyx with pure loathing.
“I was trying it out. It’s new. I didn’t know it was that loud. Heh. Heh.” No answer came from Roxas, whose pupils were slightly dilated. The whites of his eyes shone against the bleak beam filtered by the binds against the window. Demyx felt the warmth of the fingers that were wrapped tightly around the hem of his shirt collar. Although it was dark, he made out the lines on the blonde’s face, the way that his nose wrinkled furiously, and his full dark eyelashes. He could almost taste the artificial watermelon from the odor emanating off of Roxas.
Again, Demyx was not in control of his movements as the room began to spin. His body fell clumsily, but he didn’t hit the floor. The light from the hallway blinded him before he buckled onto the newly stained olive green carpeting lining the floor of the corridor. The door slammed shut before he knew to get up.
“Roxas?” Demyx picked himself up and dusted off his navy blue sweat pants. He spun around and knocked. Futilely, he tried to twist the knob and heaved his weight into the solid door. “Roxas, hey let me it. Come on. I’m sorry. Okay? Just let me in.”
After 10 minutes of pleading with the door, Demyx flopped onto the ground. The next time he saw Larxene, he was going to demand his money back from her. Following this list had gotten him kicked out of his own room, and Roxas didn’t seem like he was going anywhere. Looking back, the real flaw of this plan really wasn’t the list, but the lack of courage on Demyx’s part. For the third time in three weeks, Demyx was sleeping on the floor. Maybe, Marly would find him on there in the morning and give Roxas hell about it.
“Good morning, sunshine. Please don’t tell me that you are stupid enough to get caught drunk sleeping in the damn hallway.” Marly’s voice cut through the lofty dream Demyx was having. “Come on. Wake your ass up.”
“I’m not drunk,” Demyx said without opening his eyes. The harsh carpet had left raw grooves in his face. “Roxas locked me out.”
“I saw him head to the bathroom two hours ago.”
“What?!” Demyx shot up and turned the door knob with ease. Every muscle in his body loosened at the sight of the bunk bed. Roxas was lying on the bottom one with his face buried in the pillow. “Thanks, Marly.”
“I should have just left you sleeping on the floor, “Marly said, rolling his eyes. Demyx shut the door behind him and crept into his mattress.
“Demyx? Wake up.” Roxas said. Demyx rolled over and put the pillow over his head, protesting his awoken state. “I’m looking for my lighter. Did you borrow it?”
“I didn’t know you had one. Sorry.” After being thrown in the cold hard hallway, Demyx didn’t feel guilty that his roommate would have to get a new lighter. Roxas, who didn’t smoke and didn’t need that thing, was being OCD.
“It’s just… I mean… It means a lot to me. It was a gift from a close friend.”
“Oh,” Demyx replied as his conscience jerked him wide awake. “I’ll let you know if I see it.”
“Alright. Thanks.” The sound of Roxas shuffling papers lulled Demyx back to sleep.
When Demyx woke up the second time, he didn’t hear Roxas moving around. Confident that the height was not sufficient enough to cause him bodily harm, he jumped from his bed. The bottom of his feet tingled, but the pain subsided quickly. He hobbled to the fridge to drink some of his grape Gatorade and eat the leftovers from yesterday’s dinner. He gobbled down a half of the tofu wrap.
“Did you sleep alright, Demyx?” Roxas’s cold voice surprised Demyx in mid drink. He was sitting up with an opened paperback book in his hand.
“No, thanks to you,” Demyx replied bitterly.
“This book is really cool.”
“Oh yeah? What’s it about?” Demyx could handle the small talk.
“It’s a collection of stories.”
“Sounds kinda boring.”
“It might have been, if it wasn’t for the fact that the author is gay.” Roxas turned the page of his book and continued reading.
“Okay?” Clueless to the reason behind this conversation, Demyx swirled the Gatorade around until it resembled a liquid tornado.
“Do you know what I just heard?” Roxas’s participation in gossip seemed odd to Demyx.
“No, what?” Demyx was still extremely curious.
“I heard that more than fifty percent of the music faculty is homosexual.”
“Oh, really?” Demyx wasn’t really shocked, but a little confused and possibly uncomfortable as to why this was being brought up.
“Yup. What do you think about that?”
“I don’t know.”
“It doesn’t bother you that you might be learning something from a gay guy?”
“No, why would it?” Demyx asked defensively.
“Just wondered.” If this was Roxas’s way of ‘coming out’ to him, Demyx didn’t want to have anything to do with it.
“You know what else I learned?”
“What?” Demyx was peeved, but he wanted to humor his short roommate.
“I looked up Demy to see if I could do a paper on him for my class. I took French in high school, so I thought it would be easier to study him instead of someone like Kurasawa. You’re never going to guess what I found out about him.”
“What?”
“Total queer.”
“What?!”
“What’s the matter, Demyx? Does it piss you off knowing that you were named after a fairy?” The words rolled off of his tongue casually, and he turned another page. Flatting out the page with his right hand, he continued reading.
“No. What the hell, Roxas? Why are you telling me this?” He was pissed off that he was named after a fairy, but he wasn’t going to give the shrimpy little gay-porn watching girl for a roommate that kind of satisfaction.
“You want to know something else?”
“No,” Demyx said, tired of this conversation.
“Freddie Mercury, lead singer of Queen, was a fa-”
“You do not say anything about Queen!” Demyx shouted as he threw down the bottle spraying purple everywhere.
“Or what, Demyx? What are you going to do that you haven’t done already?” Roxas had thrown the book across the room to retaliate. His eyes narrowed as he scowled.
“What are you talking about? Why are you being such a jackass?” Demyx continued shouting.
“What I am talking about? You want to fucking know what I’m talking about? I found this!” Roxas stood up and reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of pink paper. His fingers curled around it balling up tightly into a fist. “You were trying to fucking get rid of me by-by this stupid list?!”
“Look, it’s not like that.” If Roxas punched Demyx right now, it would be justified. Demyx did not want to get punched, so he had to muster up some charm and talk his way out of this.
“What is it like, Demyx? Huh?” Roxas’s voice got even louder as he paced across the room. He threw the list in front of Demyx.
“I-I don’t. I don’t know.” So much for charm.
“Where’s my lighter?” Roxas slammed his fist against a dresser drawer.
“Well, umm, w-what lighter?” A fist fight was inevitable if Roxas knew that he threw the shiny red Zippo into the dumpster last night.
“Do not bullshit me, Demyx. You took my lighter. Give it back.”
“Well, the thing is… I don’t have it. I threw it out.” Demyx braced himself for the blow.
“What?” Roxas closed his eyes and took visibly deep breaths.
“Look, I didn’t know that it meant anything to you. I thought-I mean… I didn’t think…I mean.”
Roxas returned to the side of the bed and dropped to his knees. He had cracked, and Demyx was not ready to comfort the blonde without fearing for his life so he stood back to watch-
“Hey what are you doing?” Demyx asked. No tears fell from Roxas’s eyes as he got on his stomach and buried his arm under the bed.
“I am going to smash this thing into smithereens,” Roxas huffed. Once Demyx realized it was his most prized possession, his passion, more or less his life that Roxas was after, Demyx lunged.
“You stay away from it,” Demyx called out; his voice lowered a few pitches. Body contacted with body, and Demyx tapped into his inner strength. He lifted Roxas from the waist making a flailing human cannon ball and launched him into the air. They were both low to the ground, and a person can only be thrown so far. However, being in a dorm room where everything was in close proximity to each other, Roxas flew head first into the wooden corner of his desk with a loud thump. “Roxas? Oh, shit. Are you okay?”
Curled up on his side and lying still, Roxas groaned with his hands covering his face. Demyx kneeled closer to the injured face and placed his own hand on Roxas’s side. “Roxas?”
“Go away,” Roxas murmured.
“I was only trying to get you away from my sitar. I wasn’t trying to hurt you or anything. Are you okay?” Demyx noticed the way that his hand moved along with Roxas’s breathing, and it brought a smile to his face.
“I’m fine.”
“Can you get up? I want to make sure you actually are fine. You know, there was a girl who got hit in the head with a hockey puck at a Blue Jackets game once. They said she was fine and she went on her life like nothing happened. Two days latter, she was dead.”
“I said I’m fine.” Roxas would not move from his position, and his hands were still covering his head. “It’s not that bad. You didn’t push me that hard.”
“At least, let me see. So I know I didn’t cause some sort of permanent damage.” Demyx cautiously tugged at a Roxas’s pinky finger. That hand fell to the floor but the other one continued to shield Roxas’s left eye. His right eye glared at Demyx as Roxas sat up to prop himself again side of his desk. Demyx leaned in and poked the remaining hand gently. “Come on.”
“Alright,” Roxas said sighing. When he removed the hand, Demyx involuntarily flinched. The impact had left a cut through his roommate’s eyebrow and the area surrounding it was red and swollen.
“You’re bleeding.” Demyx’s guilt surfaced, and he looked at the ground unable to keep the gaze of the soft blue eyes.
“It doesn’t hurt too much.”
“Quick, how many fingers am I holding up?” Demyx thrust two fingers in Roxas face.
“Two.”
“I need to make sure your pupils are normal. Look up at the light.” Demyx squeezed Roxas’ chin and angled it towards the ceiling light making Roxas squint. Peering into those blue eyes, he pulled their faces closer to get a better look. “They look so small. Is that normal? I don’t think that’s normal.”
“Ow, watch it.”
“I’m sorry.” Demyx let go. The lighting in the room was off again making Roxas’s eyes look so inviting. “I’m really sorry.”
“It’s okay Demyx, no permanent damage. I’m-
“No, I’m sorry about everything. The lighter, the singing, the cookies, the underwear, the whole stupid list.”
“Underwear? What do you-“
“I’m sorry about the list,” Demyx interrupted. Their faces were inches away, and Roxas’s lips were parted from being cut off so suddenly. His cut already had a blue hue around it, and Demyx wanted to feel the way the thick eyelashes would flutter against his own lips.
So, when Uncle Ernie’s voice entered his head saying ‘Quit your yammerin’ and get your ass in here,’ he placed his lips on top on Roxas’s. Lightly brushing them together, Demyx searched longingly for permission. His roommate easily gave it, draping his arm around his neck and pulling their bodies closer together. Kissing Roxas was similar to kissing a girl without the slick scented gloss and with more electricity behind it. This kind of electricity could light the Las Vegas strip for days. Hungry for more, Demyx cradled Roxas’s cheek with his hand, trying to convey his yearning through his ardent kiss. The blue-eyed blonde responded by curling his fingers around Demyx’s belt and eliminating the space between them. The warmth of the closeness was unlike being with a female, and Demyx moaned with pleasure.
At this, Demyx’s mind filled with the number of things wrong with this situation, and he shot straight up recoiling from Roxas.
“Oh, geez. Oh no. What am I doing?” Demyx panicked, pulling his hair to try to numb his brain.
“Uh,” Roxas tried to reply looking dumbfounded.
“I didn’t… I’m not… I’m so…”
“Demyx, uh, it’s okay…” Roxas scrambled up and reached out to Demyx awkwardly.
“This is not okay. There’s nothing okay about this,” Demyx whispered avoiding the boy’s touch. Tripping over his feet, he managed to grab his sneakers before he made it to the door. “I have to go.”
“Wait, Demyx-” But the door was shut behind him, and Roxas made no attempt to follow. Breathing became painful as he toppled over the stairs, driving each foot into the ground, racing to reach the next step. The white oversized door leading to outdoors would not budge, so he yanked it, kicked it, and slammed into it until it gave.
The cold air cut into the flesh of his lungs, but the pain was a welcomed distraction. The fluorescent light overhead blinded him to the shadows lurking in the inky darkness. Sliding on his shoes, he gazed out into the soothing rain. His mood was temporarily transformed by the calming effects that the water had on him. Sheltered from the weather, he was dry and safe, but the biting cold nipped at every inch of his exposed skin and wormed itself into Demyx’s core. The water pooled into the crevasses of the uneven sidewalk that lay out in front of him, beckoning him to follow it into the rain. His hand rose and stretched until the water enveloped it. Taking a brave step forward, his multicolored sleeve soaked the rain, feeling slick and cold against his skin. Although he was aware that he wasn’t young enough to get away with it without looking like a fool, he propelled himself into the rain and splashed into every puddle.
Cold, wet, and miserable, Demyx was quivering in the front of one of doors to a practice room. Suctioned to his legs, his jeans chaffed his thighs and the weight of his shirt dragged him further into depression. Running around in the rain was great for two seconds, until he got wet. Now, he was miserable, and he couldn’t go back to the room that he shared with Roxas. Instead, he was in a closet sized soundproof room dripping water where someone will probably lay their unsuspecting instrument.
He sat in the only seat, an ergonomically correct metal chair with faded pink cushions, and wrung out the front of his vibrant tie-dye shirt. The crumbly squares of cork in the room caught Demyx’s eye. They were accompanied only by a thick maroon curtain hanging on one of the walls. After locking the door, he pealed off the shirt fearing hypothermia. His jeans were harder to wiggle out of.
Clad only in his sopping boxers and without an instrument, Demyx sat on the chair alone with his thoughts. It was becoming harder to breath normally and his chest ached. Wishing the tears away, he bit his finger trying to leave marks, but unable to draw blood. When that didn’t work, he attempted to shove his knuckle in his mouth. Tears and salvia mingled coating a thin film on his hand.
Tossing his body to the ground, he sprawled out on hands and knees begging that he wasn’t the way that he was. The verse ‘Ask and you shall receive’ entered his mind, and he asked repeatedly for divine intervention. He listed all of the things he would give up. He would be a better person, give to the poor, stop swearing, stop lying, stop singing, stop playing, stop walking, stop seeing, stop hearing. When he realized that things probably weren’t going to change, the hopelessness won as he fought desperately against himself beating his thighs until they were raw and numb. He crumbled into a heap on the floor trembling not from the cold but from weeping so hard and hating himself for it.
Collapsing from emotional and physical exhaustion hours later, Demyx spent the night on the floor for one more night after tugging the musty curtain off of the wall.
“He what?!” Demyx asked his pink haired RA. Due to the lack of sleep, he was sure he was audibly and visually hallucinating. Hurt and bewildered but unwilling to admit the reason why, he was standing in his half empty dorm room. He pulled his fingers to his lips remembering what had happened the night before.
“He moved out.”
“In one day? Just like that, but how? Why?”
“You physically assaulted him. You should be glad he convinced me not to report it.”
“He convinced you?”
“Yes,” Marly said, curling his lips into a wide smirk.
“How?”
“That is none of your concern. What matters is that you will be getting a new roommate, and if you try anything with this guy, I’m sure you’ll be put into your place.”
“Roxas didn’t tell you that it was an accident?”
“Demyx, focus.” Marly sighed. “Your new roommate will be here tonight, if not tomorrow.”
“Roxas made it sound like I hurt him?!”
“I’m done talking to you.” Marly turned away from Demyx and ran into another blonde. “Larxene.”
“Marluxia,” she replied coyly. Her eyelashed moved so fast that it made Demyx's eye water.
“Marlu-who?” Demyx asked, but was ignored by the other two.
“I had a good time on Friday. We should do it again sometime.” Marluxia's smirk returned wider than Demyx had ever seen.
“Maybe.” Her smile reminded Demyx of the time he tried to drink maple syrup, sickly sweet.
“I've got to go, but I’ll see you around.” Marluxia strolled down the hall and around a corner before Larxene turned her attention to Demyx.
“So, I told you my list was foolproof. I can’t believe that you gave Roxas that ugly bruise.”
“It was an accident.”
“I know, you’re preaching to the choir. My roommate was accidentally electrocuted, remember?”
“Electrocuted?”
“So, it’ll be nice to have a room to yourself.”
“Someone else is moving in.”
“Oh, that blows.”
“Yeah, thanks.” Demyx shook his head.
“You know… that list can be used on straight guys, too.” Her smile turned to pure pill popping ecstasy.
“I’m not using that list. I am never ever going to ask you for advice. You suck at giving it.” Squinting, Larxene pulled out the brass knuckles from her jeans pocket. “Ok, ok, you don’t suck. Sheesh.”
“I’m going to pretend that you didn’t say that. I need to get some shit done.”
“Alright.”
“Bye, Demyx.”
“Bye.” As she walked away from the door, Demyx shut it. Roxas had left, and he was alone. It’s probably best this way anyways.
“Oh, sick!” Demyx cried out as the strong stench of body odor reached his olfactory receptors and permanently offended them. Two months into the semester, and he was stuck with the jock, who didn’t like to shower after practice, as a roommate. He was one of the jocks; the type that when interviewed by the school newspaper said that his major was early childhood education, but also that he planned on being in the FBI after he graduated. “Rai, could you do something about the smell?”
“I can’t help it, you know?” the muscle said and shrugged.
“You could take a shower.”
“My skin’s kinda’ sensitive, you know?” Standing in front of the fridge, he gulped down the rest of Demyx’s soy milk straight from the bottle.
“Hey, that was mine,” Demyx whined.
“I was hungry, you know?”
“No! I do not know!” Demyx glared at the massive mass of muscles.
“You wanna make something of it?” Rai’s bicep twitched as he curled his arm and flexed.
“No, I don’t,” Demyx said dejectedly and sighed.
“That’s what I thought, you know?”
“Yeah, I know.”
It was Friday night, and Demyx and his friends had run out of options and settled on going to First Run, the only 18 and older club in town. The colorful bar sat closer to the entrance, but was off limits. Begrudgingly, they all got their black x’s, and Demyx rushed into the crowd with the girls in his group. His shoes stuck to the tacky black and white checkered floor, and the heavy cigarette smoke fulfilled his maximum carcinogen quota for the year. The dimly lit area was filled with people as the group squeezed in to dance in a circle, and Demyx was dubbed the lookout for old creepy perverts who were regularly spotted there. All was going as usual until Demyx spotted a familiar head full of blonde spikes.
Green alcoholic drink in hand, Roxas was perched on a red barstool with a group of men, who Demyx didn’t recognize. His ex-roommate was sporting his usual calm demeanor, occasionally smiling at what the man next to him was saying. Looking at the two made Demyx ball his fists in fury, but he just kept dancing, sporadically glancing at the short blonde and his friend. The girls in his group eventually went off to find their own personal dance partner, and Demyx took this as a good time to get a drink. Eyeing the bartender, he waited for the right moment to spring up between the happy couple and shout out his order.
“I’ll take a sprite, please.” Demyx placed a couple bills on the bar.
“Demyx?”
“Oh, Roxas. Hey, I didn’t see you there. How’s life?”
“Uh, ok, I guess.”
“Do you get along with your new roommate?”
“I guess.”
“Well, mine’s great. He’s on the football team and has some sort of scholarship. He’s probably going to be in the NFL, maybe an FBI agent. Hey, what is that you’re drinking?”
“Apple martini.”
“How did you get a fa-” Demyx’s mouth was clamped shut by warm hand. Roxas’s warm hand. His ex-roommate’s glare brought back memories of a pretty pink list. The stocky bartender looked up from the Sprite, looked at Roxas then at Demyx. He opened his mouth and paused before rushing to the mob at the other end of the bar, but not before he took the drink that sat in front of Roxas. Demyx was being pulled away from the bar rather roughly by Roxas and was confronted by the cold air. The angry blonde tugged at Demyx’s wrist and heaved him through the entrance. “Hey, my coat and stuff’s still in there.”
“Why do you always do that?” Roxas snapped. Before Demyx could say anything Roxas guided them to an alleyway. Demyx didn’t know what the intentions of the other man in front of him was, but he had heard enough stories to know what happens in an alleyway. Demyx had, to a point, accepted the fact that he was gay, but he wasn’t used to it yet. The street was creepy, and Demyx swore he saw a rat the size of a small dog run into the dilapidated building next to the blue reeking dumpster. “Talk.”
“About what?” Demyx said surprised that Roxas hadn’t pinned him against the greasy wall.
“About anything. You’re always talking. So now’s your chance. Talk.”
“You can’t just put me in the spot like that, geez,” He paused. Shivering, Demyx squinted at his visible breath and swore at the tiny flakes of snow floating in the air. “Roxas, why did you leave?”
“You didn’t miss me anyways. You’ve got your dream of a roommate, remember?” Roxas huffed. With his hands in his pocket, he stared at the ground unable to hide his forlorn expression
“You’re jealous?” Demyx laughed. “We haven’t talked for three months, and you’re jealous? What about that guy you were with at the bar?”
“Guy?” After Roxas looked up, his lips turned slightly upwards as he let out a small laugh. Demyx liked the way that Roxas’s nose crinkled when he laughed. “You can’t be serious. We were in a group. They were in my class, Demyx. They probably only asked me to tag along because they got the answers off of me for the take home test.”
“Oh.” Reprimanding their trivial jealousy silently, he loosened his grip on the tension that had been built between them. “Well, to tell you the truth my roommate has got to be the worse roommate ever.”
“Can’t be as bad as mine. He has Riku-esk hair. It’s bluer, but still, there is nothing good about Riku’s hair,” Roxas said as Demyx told himself that Riku had silky, flowing, long hair.
“You’re going to not like a guy because of his hair?”
“Umm, he’s really off. I think his mom died, which is really… awful, but he cries out to her randomly as if he’s calling her back from the dead. Sometimes he really cries; he balls his eyes out. I just don’t know what the hell to say to the guy.”
“So, you didn’t answer my question, why did you leave?” Demyx asked inching closer to Roxas. Peering into his blue eyes, he reached out to Roxas’s shoulders and held the blonde still.
“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t want to screw you up, and I didn’t want it to be all weird.”
“You told Marly that I physically assaulted you.”
“You did. I think I still have a scar.”
“It was an accident.”
“I know.” Roxas buried his hands deeper into his pockets.
“What exactly did you do with Marly anyways?”
“What do you mean?”
“He told me you had to convince him to not report it.”
“Oh.” Roxas flippantly shrugged.
“Well?” Demyx said as he crossed his arms, took a defiant step back, and frowned.
“It was nothing like that. I mean… the guy has pink hair. I just bribed him. With money.” Waving his hands defensively in front of him, Roxas’s face twisted in disgust as he shook his head.
“Oh.” Demyx shoulders fell slack as he felt the rest of the tension leave.
“Hey, Demyx. Promise me something.”
“What?”
“That you won’t freak out.”
“About what?” The tension was back in full force gnawing at his body.
“When I do this.” Roxas grabbed Demyx’s shirt collar and pulled him closer sealing the distance with a strong kiss, melting away the chill that had spread through Demyx. He began to worry about the fact that they were two guys publicly displaying affection.
“I’m not freaking out,” Demyx said when they finally parted. After nervously looking around for witnesses, his eyes darted to the floor when the intensity of Roxas’s eyes stung him. “But I don’t want anyone to find us.”
“Neither do I.”
“Really?”
“What? Did you think that I walked around campus chanting ‘I’m queer, I’m here, get used to it.’?”
“I just thought you were open about it.”
“I’m fine with it, but everyone else here seems to have a problem with it.”
“We could go back to my room…” Demyx shifted his weight from one foot to another and glanced at the pornographic graffiti on the slimy wall. A street lamp flickered and went out above them. “But my roommate’s probably flexing in the mirror and eating my food right about now.”
“Mine is probably balling.” Roxas rolled his eyes.
“Well…there is always the list.” Demyx winked at Roxas in jest, but the short blond looked thoughtful as he scratched his chin.
“My roommate did just get some homemade sugar cookies that his brothers sent him...” The seriousness in Roxas’s voice made Demyx laugh, and in a matter of moments, they were both bend over laughing hysterically for reasons they weren’t sure of. The snow suddenly turned to freezing rain, and both of them lacking their jackets raced back towards the club for shelter. The rain soaked Demyx, and he was damp and miserably cold, but unlike the last time, he didn’t feel so hopeless anymore.