DedicationThe lovely reviewers who have continued to prove to me that people actually enjoy reading what my incredibly troubled mind produces. This story is dedicated to anyone, and everyone, who has ever read any of my stories. This is also dedicated to my darling co-author, Felix, who has spent countless, tedious hours roleplayng back and forth with me. Plotting, and everthing else. He deserves praise, doesn't he?
Pairings: Riku x Sora ... side pairings mentioned throughout story.
Warnings Language ; Yaoi ; Suggestive Themes ; Adult Themes ; Drinking . and you should be warned that a insane fourteen year old and her childhood friend, who is being forced to co-write yaoi with her, have created this.
Revising Began...: August 7, 2007
Many melodic tones rang through the empty hallways. A constant, dozen strokes of music chimed throughout the expanse of the house. An old Grandfather Clock, no doubt. Accompanying the dongs signaling the current, midnight time, was a continual strumming of fingers against a wooden desk. With every chime of the clock, fingers would tap once more, making a melody until the chime themselves ended, causing the strumming to abruptly end as well. It was one of those simultaneous things.
Eyes, hues of an almost perfect emerald, flickered over their owner's shoulder to glimpse at the now, eerily silent, grandfather clock. Those previously preoccupied fingers now found themselves running through strands of silver toned hair, and then retreating to the temples upon the owner. He wore clothing or a dark ebony. Silk, if you looked close enough, or even cared. The look the silver hair in contrast with the black clothing contradicted what the grandfather clock perceived. Someone wise was what it said; what you got was the complete opposite.
"Midnight," the male stated in the stale air, voice unwavering.
Aquamarine eyes turned themselves back to the left, to gander once more at the illuminated computer screen before him. Displayed upon it were a few scattered instant message boxes, and a few opened websites (regarding to the theater, Broadway, and book publishing listings) Nothing too interesting, all in all.
A light sigh passed the parted lips of the seemingly twenty one year old man whilst his hands now found comfort with clicking the mouse to the computer. Such action brought an instant message screen into focus.
"Bull Shit," came the lowered hiss of the man in regards to the message he had received.
It seemed to be in relation to someone saying the oh so famous lines 'I still want to be friends'. Now emotionless, emerald orbs gazed at the white screen, anger slowly seeping into the empty vessel. Hands clenched tightly against the mechanical mouse at his disposal as he took long and steady breaths.
Chewing his bottom lip, a common nervous reaction, the man darted his eyes back to the grandfather clock, as if to confirm that it was indeed midnight.
"You know what? Screw you."
It was said to no one in particular, seeing no one besides him was even in the room.
As he spoke, he clicked vengefully at the deemed 'Buddy List' and then angrily clicked the block icon upon his now ex-girlfriend. Grinning rather proudly, he turned his attention back to the only other message system. Sighing, a bit miserable this time, the man fidgeted in his chair and then leaned forward to type a response into the box.
"Sure thing, I'll see you tomorrow at the signing. And make sure Larxene doesn't go," he spoke out-loud as he typed slowly, hitting the keys one at a time with an index finger. Once finished, he triumphantly clicked the enter key, sending the image to the person he was talking to, before signing off.
Arising to his feet, the man yawned and rose his arms into the air to stretch. Scuffling bare feet against the polished wood floors; he made his way to the adjoining room, only a few yards away. Once inside, he was emerged in the darkness, due to the lack of light. Regardless of that fact, he seemed like he knew where he was going, as he edged forward, falling forward onto a bed, burying his face into the plush pillow that greeted him.
Another night. Another sleepless night.
Due to the lack of sleep he had gotten the night before, the oh-so famous Riku Karada was quite irritated. He was even more so angered by the fact that he was late for his /own/ book signing. Pushing past a few people in the mob of walking people on the streets, the silver-haired writer shove his way through the backdoors to the room he would be residing in for the next few hours.
The celebrity carried himself in, nodding to a few security guards who had tossed him the usual 'you're late', to which he snapped back with 'i know'. Smirking nonchalantly, as if to forget his own fatigue and frustration, Riku entered into the main expanse of the room. The man then situated himself at the comfy chair before a wooden desk that had a large stack of pictures. Of /himself/. He wasn't conceited, just had a job to do. Regretfully.
Eyes peered around the area, noticing the lack of a certain blonde mohawk-man. Lips fell into an instant frown as he turned his gaze to a lanky fellow standing near where he sat.
The empty question rang through the oddly empty room, with the exception of the man, the guards near the back door, and the writer himself.
The man nervously gazed at the celebrity. It appeared that he was weighing his options before he coughed into his fist, face turning red from embarrassment. Knowing that the other was expecting an answer, the man finally piped up with a somewhat incoherent, "He's late, sir. He called and said he'd meet you later at his restaurant. His apologizes, sir."
Scoffing at the man's repeated uttering of the word 'sir', Riku leaned back in his seat. An idle hand rose from his side to vigorously rub his forehead in complete vexation. "Damn brother," he more so hissed then spoke.
Emerald eyes rose off the skinny man beside him to glance at the locked doors. Several people waited patiently and eagerly outside. In fact, they were all in a beat and orderly line. Each displayed a bright smile on their little faces as they each tightly held a book close to their chest. /His/ book.
"Do you honestly expect me to sign all those books?" Riku found himself inquiring, not too keen on the idea of signing more then just a few books. Lazy? Perhaps.
"This is a book signing after all," the man replied apprehensively, swaying back and forth on his heels. His eyes looked at the gathering crowd outside then back to the writer. "It would be in your best interests to. Get you more fans and buys." A hopeful smile danced onto the man's face.
"I have enough sales," Riku replied irritably, watching as the guards slowly made their way to the glass doors. One reached into his pockets to remove a set of keys. Upon having the door unlocked, the people rushed in, still remaining in that oh so perfect line, towards his desk. At once he was forced to put on a fake, cheerful smile.
"But you better be right," Riku shot silently at his agent beside him, shoulders falling into a shrug before he peered at the first man at the front of the line.
The rather nervous man in the front, wearing a red shirt with short cut brown hair, extended a hand towards the author. The man grinned as he literally shoved a copy of one of the other's books onto the desk in a thump. "It's a pleasure, Riku Karada!"
If it was possible for a man to squeal, this stranger had done so.
"I'm sure it is..." Riku trailed off, reaching for a pen. He gripped it tightly and opened the book's front cover to scribble his signature into it. Riku then proceeded to shake the man's hand with his own free one. Green eyes stared him for a moment before he nearly shoo'ed him away so the line could move on.
The next one caught his attention at once. Who wouldn't be distracted by someone that ... /weird/.
The person who Riku had instantly dubbed as 'weird' hastily made his way up to the signing table. Locks of brown hair were spiked in all directions, obviously defying gravity and all its laws. Brilliant blue eyes stared briefly at the silver-haired writer before placing a copy of Riku's book onto the desk.
"Can you make it out for my girlfriend?" the brunette requested, a sheepish smile on his face.
"Name?" Riku automatically asked, taking in the stranger's appearance. He seemed young. Younger than him perhaps, maybe by just a year. Regardless, Riku reached for his pen once more.
"Kairi," the brunette answered with that same soft smile. If the stranger had any choice, he wouldn't be here. He'd rather be painting something ... or with Kairi, even though she was at work. But no, he was forced to come to this signing.
"Right," Riku answered with a short yawn. The silver-haired author then wrote the name in the cover along with his signature. Sea-green hues rose to gaze at icy blue eyes for a single second. Those eyes. They were truly a work of art. Perhaps an inspiration for something he could write. "Here," Riku grumbled, passing the book back to the other.
"Er... thanks," the young brunette replied, taking it as he watched Riku. "Thanks," he repeated before staggering away from the table and back out to the outside world. To go back home and take a nap, no doubt.
Flinching, the man addressed to as Riku, leaned further back in his seat behind the desk. If this was any indication of the day, it wasn't going to go well. He hated people... so since when did being a writer become a "people job"! But still ... he would remember those eyes. Maybe not the face, but surely the eyes.
It had taken the brunette, Sora Kayaki, ten minutes before he made his way back to his middle-class apartment. He held the book close, certain that if he lost it, it would be the death of him yet. Kairi had literally bribed him to go to that book-signing. To come back empty handed was not an option.
Sora had somehow managed to doze off once he arrived home, as expected.
Scrunching his nose slightly, the artist buried his face further into the pillow. A smile appeared on his face due to the idea of actually getting to sleep. Blue hues were tightly shut as messy brown hair fell in all directions. Hands clutched the pillow on either side, flexing his hand every so slightly. Squirming a bit to get more comfortable, he let out a loud yawn and buried his face once again into the feathery pillow he found there.
"Are you going to sleep all day?"
Strands of red hair fell down onto skinny shoulders. Turquoise eyes peered at the sleeping man before nudging him in the shoulder. An amused smile spread across her soft features. She was clothed in her waitress attire, having just come from work. Lips were folded into that almost sister-like expression.
"Five more minutes mommy..." mumbled the brunette incoherently against the pillow.
The woman who had addressed him scowled a bit, crossing her arms. Tapping her foot against the carpeted floor, she approached the bed to further nudge the arm of the sleeping artist. Once. Twice. Three times. A bit upset at the lack of reaction, she scooted a bit closer, up and onto the bed, watching her sleeping boyfriend. A sigh then fell from the red-head's lips.
"First I'm your girlfriend and now I'm your mother? Real assuring, Sora," she joked lightly, playing with his untidy hair and then arising to her feet once more to collect more suitable clothing from the dresser.
A moment passed before the brunette cracked open his eyes and watched her put a blouse over a tank top. Rolling over so he was on his back, he stared at the ceiling. Hands remained by his sides, gripping at the bed sheets. The ladies' eyes turned to peer over at the now awake artist. A smile spread across her face as she turned her attention back to placing chandeliers into her ears.
"What time is... it?" Sora asked, a yawn escaping his youthful mouth.
The lady turned to face the bed, blinking slightly. Once the earrings had been fully put in, she crossed her arms and tilted her head slightly, letting more strands of hair fall into her face. Rolling her eyes slightly, she pointed at the digital clock by their bed. It read six. /Great/.
"Neh! I overslept again?" pouted the artist.
At once, the brunette sprung up from his spot on the bed. Sheepishly, Sora rubbed the back of his neck. Cautiously, he peered over at the female, as he respoistioned himself back onto the bed. The blankets he had been under earlier now pooled in his waist.
"Don't you have that meeting with a client tonight? Someone interested in purchasing some of your art?" she asked, turning back to the mirror as she grabbed for a brush on the bureau. She seemed /far/ too distracted by her grooming to notice the brunette was now sitting up, yawning.
"He cancelled a few days ago, I thought I told you," answered Sora, yawning /again/ after he finished the sentence. Reaching for the pillow behind him, he took it in his grasps and held it close. He liked these type of pillows. Very comfortable.
"No, you didn't," she informed, giving off the woman attitude of always being right. Still, she continued to comb her hair before pausing to turn around and face her boyfriend. "You know, you really need to get some people to buy that stuff you call art. Our income is small enough as it is.. and we can't support the apartment and your art supplies on my minimum wage," she sighed heavily, letting her hands fall by her hips, still holding the brush.
"Trust me, Kairi, one of these days I'll make it big. I'll hit it big. This whole world will be bustling about me. And you'll be the beautiful girlfriend everyone's talking about."
By now he had stood up, wearing plain grey shorts and a tank top. "We'll be famous," he finished, draping an arm around her neck in a bright smile.
"I really hope so Sora..." she sighed, trying not to smile back. "In the mean time... why don't you get a job? I heard there's an opening somewhere downtown. Go check it out." She smiled and then made her way to the adjoining bathroom.
"How am I supposed to find it if I don't even know what the job is?" Sora pouted, letting his arms drape by his sides.
"Don't ask me. Do I look like the encyclopedia?" Kairi called from the bathroom.
"I'll just ask Roxas if he heard anything about a job..." yawned Sora, trudging across the bedroom, snagging a new and better pair of pants and shirt as he did so.
"See? That's the spirit!" called Kairi once more, almost sing-songy.
Sora silently mocked her, smirking as he did so before sitting down on the bed getting redressed. It didn't take him that long at all, actually. Kairi remerged yet again, fully clothed for her night-shift.
"You look great. How can anyone say no to you being their employee?" she asked, fixing his collar fondly.
"Let's just hope so..."Sora whispered. Lately Kairi had been acting so /distant/ and disdainful about his art … was she really getting fed up with him?
"Just because you're famous and you're the boss's brother does not mean you can come and sit down as you please! Even we have morals, Riku!"
Shallow emerald eyes flickered slightly over to the lady speaking. The location? A candle-light, gourmet restaurant. Each table was equipped with a delicate white lace table cloth, a red sheet placed over that with red-clothed silver-wear bunches, and quite old wooden chairs. Something back from ancient Rome, no doubt. Nonetheless, quite beautiful. Sitting at the table nearest the window was the familiar Riku, nagging at the basket of breadsticks before darting his scowl up to the waitress who had approached him.
"Morals? You could have fooled me..." came the ever sarcastic reply.
"I don't know how people can stand you," she sighed a bit resentfully before swaying on her feet. The woman then poked her notepad, that more than likely contained her already taken order. "Do you want me to tell Demyx you're here?"
"That is the idea," murmured Riku, sending an aquamarine-eyed stare at the brunette. "And do hurry, Tifa," he finished, folding his arms to his chest and pushing back in the chair.
The brunette frowned slightly, murmuring something about how inconsiderate he was, before she stalked off to the domain known as the kitchen. As he waited, the silver-haired writer annoyingly began to unravel the silverware, not really interested in eating at this moment. Gently, he nagged at the sleeves of the suit he was forced to wear for his earlier book signing. Stupid economy and their dreaded rules.
Arms instantly flung themselves around the nape of the silver-haired man's neck. Wincing slightly, Riku pushed forward in the chair, trying to edge the invasive arms off but found it impossible. Edging a weary look to the blonde, mullet-head boss, he let out an annoyed sigh. Eventually he managed the shrug the man's death-grip away. Flexing his clenched fist on the table, Riku signaled with his eyes for his brother to take the seat across from him. The other complied whilst carrying a cheery tune under his breath.
"Aren't you afraid of drawing attention to yourself by screaming like that?" inquired the younger of the two brothers. Aquamarine eyes stared skeptically at his older brother. For someone who was the boss and owner of a prestigious place like this ... he sure didn't /act/ like it.
"It's my restaurant, so sure, why nor!" Demyx smirked and then folded his arms also, similar to his brother's earlier action. Tilting his head slightly, a frown spread across the man. "Are you mad 'cause I didn't get to make it to your book thingy?"
"Signing, and I'm always mad at you," scoffed Riku, glancing back up at Demyx with annoyance flickering in his eyes. A moment of awkward silence passed.
"Anyway, I have to talk to you about my... help," answered Demyx with a weary glance to behind Riku. Demyx's gaze fell upon the door to the kitchen with a bit of worry filling his gaze.
"I don't see the point of telling your problems to me is, but go ahead. I'll pretend to care. But in ten minutes I have an appointment to /pretend/ to work at my /pretend/ office," Riku sneered, sending a dark glare over at his brother.
"..." Demyx paused before answering, observing the look of discontent before rolling his eyes. "You know the teenager I hired a few nights ago?" Demyx questioned and received a slight nod from across the table. "Well, Axel is spending all his time snogging him instead of cooking. It's quite.. disturbing actually. I mean I even," he lowered his voice and leaned over the table to whisper, "found him stalking the blonde boy in the freezer with the meat."
"That's... very interesting.." Riku trailed off, wondering why his brother paid so much attention to the relationships of others. Sighing, he leaned his chin into the palm of his hands before looking out the window. At least he hadn't asked about Larxene. Maybe he took the idea not to ask about his ex. Regardless, Riku glanced wearily back at his older brother. "Is there anything else you'd like to disturb my day with?"
"Well, just between us brothers, I have to inform you that a spot has opened as a journalist for thee New York Times," whispered Demyx, shooting a sneaky smile across the breadsticks, and table.
"You're kidding.." answered Riku flatly, arching an eyebrow.
"Hey, I have connections you know," Demyx said, whilst trying to hold back the hugest grin in existence.
"And how do you suppose I get that job, if said job does exist?" No excitement was in Riku's voice, just the same quite irritated tone. Demyx blinked and then laughed a bit, picking up a breadstick and taking a small bite.
"I'll call you later tonight for the details. I don't want to talk about in here," Demyx concluded before giving an affirmative nod.
"Fine, then I'll be going. Just answer me this," Riku added in, arising to his feet.
"And that'd be?" questioned Demyx, lacing his fingers together on the table before him.
"Are you sure I'll get it?" Riku asked, blinking slightly with the same edgy tone
"Let's just say I have 'said' connections, and leave it at that."
"You better be right.." Riku scoffed, abruptly leaving the restaurant in a flurry from the incredibly short conversation between the two.