Title: Thnks fr th Mmrs

Disclaimer: If my friend and I owned the Kingdom Hearts series, this would be a movie and yaoi galore would be everywheres. Do you see the yaoi everywheres? Didn’t think so.

Author’s note: wrote this with my friend, same one who is writing the Secret Diary of Beelzebub with me, and we hope you all enjoy

Pairings: RikuSora, AxelRoxas, and more

Warnings: particle physics references, implied homosexuality, Oprah and republican bashing (not reflective of our own views. But come on, everyone knows a liberal like Roxas is in this story. Everyone.).

Chapter One: “Who does he think he is?”

The spheres spread out like a nova in slow motion. He looked away, moved around the table, before the varying torques and trajectories could make him dizzy. He contemplated the new spray of vectors born from the ensuing external force. Uninterrupted pathways, anywhere? The interaction of more than two objects was still unpredictable, even to him—there, other end of the table, striped ball. Number eleven. He bent over, eyeing it. If he set the cylindrical coordinates with a radius of one third, he could send it just between the blue and the green, and pocket it, provided—

“What’cha thinking about?” drawled Axel in his singular tone—consciously so casual as to be completely disarming, subconsciously as jarring as a shout. The most subtle way Zexion had ever seen to be obnoxious. He thought Axel should patent it.

“Particle physics,” he murmured back, aiming for the shot.

“Uh, you realize we’re in the middle of a pool game?”

“It’s all one.”

“Are you sure you aren’t Zen Buddhist? I came to you for math tutoring, and we’re in a pub.”

Zexion took the shot. “I haven’t converted since Monday, when you last asked me. I also didn’t convert between any of the previous twenty three times you’ve posed this question. I realize the value in consistent observation, but I think an empirical pattern has been very firmly established.” Axel was trying hard to follow, Zexion could tell. He still looked baffled by the time the scientist finished, so after a momentary pause he just grinned mockingly, then assumed a phlegmatic expression, put his hands together, and bowed at the waist. “He who lacks an SAT vocabulary shall not achieve enlightenment, grasshoppah.

"I don't suppose hitting you with this pool cue would reverse the brain damage accrued in your infancy, would it?"

"Hey, not all of my dazzling intellect was inhibited in the womb, I'll have you know. I did a lot of pot in high school."

Zexion sighed, resigning himself to this absurd juggernaut of a conversation. "And the brain cells that were long dead by then?..."

"My mom did a lot of pot in high school, too."

"How would that effect--ah."

Axel’s phone pinged loudly, telling him he had received a video message. As he flipped it open, he tried to clandestinely poke Zexion with his pool cue, and failed. Zexion narrowed his eyes, but Axel, too engrossed in the message, only chuckled at what was happening on the screen. He finished, then showed the video to Zexion.

The video was centered on a window set in a brick building. A brunette boy was banging his hands against the glass and struggling with the sash alternately. He was inaudible. Giving up, he produced a sharpie and began to write on the glass. He was halfway through the second “e” in “help me” before he was tackled out of view by a blur with blonde hair.

“That was—“

“Sora, yeah.”

“Being subdued by—“

“Roxas.”

“And you’re going to?”

“Help him.”

“Oh?” Zexion’s voice was cool, but interested. Axel didn’t give a damn about just anyone.

Axel grinned, and grabbed his coat. “Well, I just couldn’t respect myself if I let Roxas get his claws in him first.”

******

A week before…

The blonde chuckled. “Welcome to Boston, Sora.” Sora smiled as the fair haired boy began to assist him.

“So, where to now Roxas?” Sora shivered slightly as the cool air hit his desert attire. Pouting, he noticed everyone around was garbed in heavier clothing, especially the homeless sitting nearby. “Rox, why are all the hobos – ”

Roxas froze mid-step, familiar azure eyes meeting Sora’s wide-eyed. Sora would have laughed, but the look on the blond cousin’s face was enough to make him stop. “They are not ‘hobos’, Sora! They are people without homes!” Sora flinched back slightly, his own eyes wide. Roxas continued to rant, “How could you graduate with such lack of knowledge Sora?! There is a thing called Political Correctness, you know!” The blond proceeded to grab more of Sora’s items, led him to the subway system (which they managed to not pay for) and Roxas situated the spiky brown haired cousin of his in a chair before standing before him in the aisle.

Sora then realized he should have known better around Roxas. Everything about him screamed politically correct: the numerous buttons on his jacket stating “Save Darfur,” “Hate is easy, Love takes courage,” “Stop Global Warming,” “Abolish the Death Penalty,” and “Unite Against Racism”. Not to mention the shoulder bag he carried that had been printed on in big bold letters, “100% Recycled”. Sora resisted the urge to roll his eyes. How could he forget?

“Rox,” Sora started, “I’m sorry. I messed up.”

Roxas’s eyes narrowed, “Of course you did. You need to be more mindful in the future.” Then his cousin took in Sora’s attire. “Well, as mindful as one like you could be.” Sora wore beat up converse sneakers, torn blue jeans, an old faded Captain America t-shirt, coke-bottle glasses, and was carrying a plastic child’s Fantastic Four backpack undoubtedly filled with his comic book geek-dom. He carried a box the size of an encyclopedia, filled with his favorite Marvel and DC comics, and in one hand had a handbag (this one decorated with Batman) filled with clothing that probably would be of no use in the weather surrounding Boston.

Sora sighed, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Roxas waved his hand, as if shooing the question away. “Grab your stuff, we have to change trains now.” The two hurriedly rushed off the train, climbed a couple of stairs and boarded the next. This time, Sora wasn’t so lucky to get a seat but the boy didn’t complain.

Sora and Roxas barely talked, except to apologize to one another when their elbows bumped because of the frequent accelerating and decelerating of the train. Finally, after thirty thousand people seemed to squeeze into their compartment, Roxas grabbed Sora’s sleeve and began dragging him out on the next stop.

Roxas chuckled at their ruffled appearance. “Not bad for your first time on a subway, was it?” Sora shrugged, not really knowing how to judge such things. Where he grew up, subways existed in the huge cities, in the places where people needed to move quicker than a car could. His hometown was no such thing. Sure his parents were rich, rich enough to barely bat an eyelash at the tuition for Harvard College, and didn’t care their only son hadn’t chosen a major yet, but the two didn’t flaunt the money.

Not like Roxas’s parents anyway. His parents lived in the biggest house one could find in the New England states, Roxas grew up with everything a kid could want and more; he always had the latest technology and tinkered around with the most expensive toys. Roxas parents raised the boy to be a business major, so he could make just as much money, if not more, than his father and take over the family business. Unfortunately for them, Roxas was a political science major and was avid on equal rights and more.

“Well,” Roxas smiled, standing up straight and leading Sora out of the underground tunnels that ruled transportation and into the sunlight. “Here we are!” Sora and Roxas stood in front of the official main gates of Harvard College. The brunette almost began hyperventilating. The two boys only had been striving since birth to make it to such a prestigious Ivy League school--Sora felt it would only be fitting that he’d pass out once he made it this far. “Breathe Sora, I don’t wanna drag your geeky ass up to the dorm room. That’s too far. At least wait until we’re on the quad!”

“Sorry,” Sora murmured, still in awe. How long had he waited for this moment? No, how long had his parents waited for this moment? Only god really knew. “I’m just… shocked. I mean, Harvard. And geez, this place is fancy.” He glanced around at nineteenth century architecture in a size comparable to cathedrals, and felt fear blossom in his heart.

“Figured, you used the same expression when your dad announced you got in.”

“…Good point.” Sora and Roxas began walking through the quad, passing by other students getting acquainted with the campus. After a couple of turns, Roxas led him up to one of the larger dorms. Entering, Roxas turned to the left and walked to the corner dorm.

“This, my good friend, is our housing for the rest of the school year.” Roxas threw pen the door after fiddling with the lock. Inside the room, two bare cots, two dressers, two desks, and two night tables sat in random placement. The window had blinds, but no curtains. Sora shuffled in, thinking with reluctance of the largely pastel items of home décor his mother had bought to make his side of the room habitable. He glanced to one side, and saw that Roxas had already begun to mark his territory by loudly projecting his social interests. A large poster for the movie Crash adorned the center of his wall, surrounded by smaller posters featuring U2 and did Sora honestly just spot what he thought he did? Yes, Roxas even had a Oprah magazine.

Sora turned to his cousin, face pale. “Rox, I knew you were bad but this?!” He held up the magazine and pointed at him accusingly. “Man, you’re an alien!”

Roxas snatched the magazine out of Sora’s hands quickly, almost hugging the plastic book close to his form. “What? Oprah’s done great things for humanity!”

Sora rolled his eyes, deciding to temporarily drop the subject. He wouldn’t accuse Roxas of turning complete pansy until he had more undisputable proof. Like he wore girly underwear or something.

Going through his boxes, Sora pulled out the one thing he truly had been looking for. Unwrapping the lamp, Sora quickly plugged it into the wall and resisted the urge to start bowing to the object. He really didn’t need Roxas to think of him as a fanboy. Sora had nothing against fanboys, honestly. It was just the stigma that came along with the term he was against.

“Don’t I need to go pick up my class books or something?”

“Nope!” Roxas exclaimed from lounging on his bed, rereading the Oprah magazine. “You can wait until after class tomorrow. First day is usually all going over the syllabus and stuff.”

“Since when are you all campus master? You’re a freshie like me.”

“Common knowledge Sora, common knowledge. Do you hide under a rock or something?”

“…maybe.”

Roxas sighed theatrically, and didn’t respond to Sora’s questioning look. So, his cousin was a nerd. Well, he had suspected from their occasional emails a certain…unawareness of current events, but he’d always been willing to attribute that to the misfortune of growing up in a red state. Poor boy. He was surrounded by conservative brainwashing, and knew not what he did. “Well,” he said cheerfully for his own benefit nearlyas much as Sora’s, “you won’t go long like that here at Harvard.”