Hello everyone! Here is a strange fic that was thought up one night while my sister and I were RP-ing. Note to the wise; never write a murder story at midnight. Anyway, it's all Mariel Nightstalker's fault that it's up here so if you hate it, blame her. Also, a big thanks to Taiky for the correction to my horrible German. And yes, I do use a translater on my laptop.
I'm aware that this is confusing but hopefully it will get better as the story moves along. You aren't supposed to know who the three people in the begining are so if you think you're the only one who doesn't get it you're wrong. Updates will be slow and short since I am a procrastinator and only write when I'm inspired or bored, so here's you're warning in advance. Normally I don't post stuff until it's COMPLETELY done, but thanks to SOMEONE coughMARIELcough I couldn't. DX
Kingdom Hearts belongs to Square Enix and Disney, but this plot and the dead people murders are mine and my sister's, kapish? No money is being made here.
ON WITH THE FIC!
The moon rose into the sky, illuminating the scene below. There were three men, one standing in the doorway and the other two on the dirt road leading to the building.
"Good work, gentlemen, that went very well," said the man in the doorway, a man with pale skin and sharp features.
"Nothing to it," drawled one of the men on the road. He had a slight British accent, obviously a foreigner.
"Yeah, piece of cake!" The other man on the road let out a slightly insane sounding chuckle. His dark eyes shone with glee from under his messy hair.
"Now now," said the man in the doorway, "calm down." Pushing himself off the doorframe, he walked down the steps and joined the other men on the road. He turned to face them. "Could you wipe your hands please?"
"Of course," drawled the foreigner, drawing out a handkerchief.
"Why?" asked the dark eyed man.
"Because I said so."
"Fine," sighed the dark eyed man, slicking his hair back with both hands. "Good?" The man from the doorway wrinkled his nose.
"That's disgusting." A shadow passed over the moon, cloaking everything in darkness. As the shadow lifted, the foreigner tossed his handkerchief down on the road behind them and turned his back on the building.
"Shall we go?" he asked.
"Of course," answered the pale man. The dark eyed man just turned to give the building one last look and broke into a quiet chuckle.
"So long, fools."
The three men started down the road as the moonlight wound its way past them, illuminating the bloody handkerchief on the ground.
Roxas woke with a start, breathing heavily.
"What's wrong sweetheart?" asked his mother. "Bad dream?"
"No," Roxas replied. Actually, before night had fallen in his dream the world had been very pleasant.
"Well, I'm glad you're up. We're here!" Roxas looked out the window at his new school, Oblivion Heights Boarding School for Gifted Children, and swallowed. Even in the sunlight the place would look menacing. The grey stone walls were weathered and old, lending truth to the plaque at the gate.
Oblivion Heights Boarding School
Founded in 1958
Vergessen ist ewig
Vergessen ist ewig? What did that mean? Roxas stared through the rain at the dismal school; contemplating what it could possibly mean and watching the raindrops slide down the window. They pulled up in front of the school and saw a young looking man with silver hair, wearing a black suit, standing in the doorway. Something about the scene struck an odd chord in his mind. The doorway looked…familiar. But that was silly.
Roxas watched his mother get out of the car to talk to the man – the principal, Roxas assumed – and turned his attention out over the grounds. This place was enormous! There was even supposed to be a bridge—what was that? There was a man, or woman, running across the grounds in a black cloak. Curiosity building, Roxas got out of the car.
"Mom, I'll be right back, okay?" Without waiting for an answer, Roxas took off after the person.
The rain dripped down the back off Roxas's neck as he followed the person into the woods. For about five minutes, they just walked. Then, the person stopped at a decrepit fountain in what once must have been a clearing. Now it was overgrown with weeds and vines. The person just stood there staring down into the fountain. Unable to stop himself, Roxas walked quietly up behind the person and tapped them on the shoulder. The person whipped around and Roxas could see that it was a young man, maybe 2 years older than him. The young man took off his hood eyes never leaving Roxas.
Shocking red hair stuck out in wet porcupine spikes over vivid green eyes. Under the man's eyes were black upside-down triangles; tattoos?
"Hey," Roxas said, trying to calm the man down. He looked like he had just seen a ghost!
"Are you going to tell me how you died?" the man asked, staring intently at Roxas's face.
"What?" asked Roxas. "I'm not dead!" The man just stared at him. "What!"
"What year is it?" the man asked, eyes never once leaving Roxas.
"2008," Roxas answered slowly. Obviously this man was crazy. The crazy man's shoulders relaxed.
"Oh, okay." He looked Roxas up and down and then turned back to the fountain.
"…What are you looking at?" Roxas asked, coming to stand next to the crazy man. "I'm Roxas Dereveau, by the way."
"Axel Sparks," the man, Axel, replied. Roxas nodded and turned back to the fountain. "You can't see it?
"See what?" asked Roxas, looking closer.
"If you can't see it, then I'm not going to tell you," Axel replied. Roxas sighed and gave the fountain one last look. And there it was, the severed head. Roxas screamed and stumbled backward until his back hit a tree.
"What-what is that?" he whispered, gesturing wildly toward the fountain.
"So you can see it?" asked Axel, looking grimly amused. "This is a first. Well, see you around, kid."
"Wait!" Roxas shouted, but with a wave, Axel was gone. Creeping cautiously back to the edge of the fountain and peering over, Roxas looked for the head. But like Axel, the head, too, was gone.
"Roxas? Roxas!" His mother's shouts brought him out of his reverie, making him jump.
"Over here Mom!" he shouted, and got up. Brushing the dirt off the seat of his pants, he leaned against the tree until he got feeling back into his legs.
"Coming Mom! Give me a sec!" As Roxas walked slowly back to his mother, not feeling the rain anymore, he thought. There had been a head in the fountain, he'd been sure of it. But he couldn't tell anyone because it wasn't there anymore. People would think he was crazy. Maybe he was. Maybe all of this change was getting to him. New town, new house, new school, new friends… Yeah, that was probably it. There never was a head in that fountain.
Roxas appeared back at the car and was faced with a worried mother and a rather amused looking principal.
"Hello Roxas, my name is Xemnas Oblivion and I'm the principal here at Oblivion Heights." The principal extended his hand out to Roxas. Roxas took it and answered:
"I'm Roxas Dereveau, sir. Pleased to meet you."
"And you," Mr. Oblivion said in reply. "I take it you received a schedule in the mail?" Roxas nodded. "Good. Would you like a guide to your dorm? The number is 130."
"No thank you, sir. I think I'll try on my own if it's not a problem."
"Not a problem at all. I'll leave you to it. Good day." And the principal walked back into the school. Roxas's mother turned to him, placing her hands on his shoulders.
"Keep your chin up, Roxas. It won't be so bad here. I'm sure you'll make a lot of new friends." She sniffled a little and Roxas rolled his eyes.
"Do you have everything you need from the car?"
"You'll write every weekend?"
"Yes, Mom, and I'll call and visit, too. You're not getting rid of me that easily." Standing there in the rain with his mother, there was nothing Roxas wanted more than to get back in the car and leave this place behind. There was something evil about this place, a bad feeling he couldn't shake. The man by the fountain, Axel, had looked so haunted…
A sudden hug shook him out of his thoughts and he returned it full force. At that moment there was nothing else besides Roxas and his mother, his one last comfort. But she pulled away and the feeling was back.
"I love you, sweetheart."
"I love you, Mom."
She kissed him on the cheek, hugged him again, and got in the car.
"Bye, sweetheart. I love you!" she called as she drove down the drive.
"Love you, Mom!" he called, and waved at her until the car turned the corner and he lost sight of it.
He was acutely aware of the gate shutting and locking, the rain pelting down on him from far above, the pressing feeling of wrong that this whole place was giving off, and above all, the intensity of his own loneliness. He sighed and gathered his things. Dorm 130, here comes Roxas.
Roxas's roommate was a bit of a handful. Roxas had first met him (and subsequently his boyfriend) in the common room, where his roommate had enthusiastically introduced them both.
"Hey! You must be the new kid! Ro—Rok—um...Roxas? Roxas, right? Am I right?"
"Y-yeah," Roxas replied, looking a little shaken.
"Stop it Demyx, you're scaring him." The voice came from a blue haired man who was sitting on the floor next to the couch Demyx was sitting on.
"I'm not scaring him Zexion. Look, he's not scared. You're not scared, right?" He looked at Roxas with big, pleading eyes. In spite of himself, Roxas laughed.
"No, I'm not scared. Soooo, which one of you is my roommate?"
"Me!" exclaimed the excitable blonde on the couch. "Demyx Rodriguez, at you service. And this is my boyfriend, Zexion." The blue haired man nodded to Roxas and turned back to his book.
"I'm Roxas Dereveau, but you obviously already knew that. So you're my roommate Demyx?"
"Yep! Our room is that one, on the left. That room, over there is Zexion's and Marluxia's."
"Marluxia?" asked Roxas cocking his head to the side.
"Yeah, he's a pink haired German-speaking weirdo. He speaks Japanese, but he just…doesn't. He's not around much. Anyway, pile your stuff in there and I'll show you around!" Roxas did as he was told, had his wrist seized by Demyx, and found himself being pulled along down the hallway. Demyx was going so fast he almost tripped on his black cloak. …Black cloak? Wait a minute! Roxas stopped walking and turned to take a closer look at Demyx.
"Do you know Axel Sparks?" he asked.
"Huh? Axel? Sure I know Axel! You've met him already?"
"Yeah, we kinda ran into each other outside. He asked me if I was going to tell him how I died…"
"Really?" Demyx laughed nervously, an odd look overtaking his features. A moment later the look was gone and Demyx was smiling again. "Yeah, he's weird like that. Anyway, let's go over here!" And Roxas was pulled off down the hallway, a bit more forcefully than before.
"And this is the ballroom! I mean cafeteria/auditorium. Heh heh."
"This was a ballroom?" Roxas asked, peering around.
"Yeah," said Demyx. "At least that's what they told me." Demyx bit his lip and looked around as if was expecting someone to jump out at him.
"What who told you?"
"Uh…you know, the principal and the kids and stuff. Heh…heh." Demyx rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably.
"Something wrong?" asked Roxas, noticing Demyx's discomfort.
"What?! Oh, no, nothing's wrong… Hey kid, I'll race you to the other side!" Roxas was surprised by the sudden change of subject but responded eagerly to the challenge.
In the end, Demyx won. Long legs were good for something, after all.
"Whoo!" Demyx panted after slapping the wall. "You're pretty fast for a little guy!"
"Your not too bad yourself," Roxas gasped.
"Nah, I can't beat Axel yet. He's a tall bugger. And really skinny."
"Yeah," Roxas agreed. A comfortable silence settled over them as they caught their breath.
"Ready to move on?" Demyx asked suddenly, looking up with a slightly panicked look in his eye.
"Sure," Roxas answered. He looked around. "Did it get colder in here?"
"Yeah, uh, let's go." Demyx took one step forward and the door to the outside flew open, wind suddenly howling fiercely through the opening. There was a shout of "Get down, Roxas!" as sticks began to fly inside.
And Axel was there, pulling Roxas down behind a fallen table.
"Stay here kid, and don't move."
"O-okay," Roxas said. "What's going on?"
"Just a bit of wind, nothing else. Got it memorized?" Roxas nodded, not being able to find his voice. Axel got up and pulled back his hood. "Keep your head down." Roxas was struck by how beautiful Axel was, an almost wild beauty. He only had a second to think about it before Axel was gone, out into the ferocious wind. The wind carried words back to Roxas, snippets of conversation.
"Axel thank God—"
"—worry Demyx, I can—"
"I would have, but Roxas—"
"There it is."
A howl unlike any he had ever heard filled Roxas's ears and he clamped his hands down over them. It hurt. Axel and Demyx were in the middle of that?! Roxas maneuvered himself into a sitting position, turning to look over the edge of the table. He only got a brief look at what it was standing in the doorway because a stick was hurdling at his face, but he had seen enough. It—it didn't have skin. Fighting the bile rising in his throat, Roxas slid down and leaned against the table, hand pressed to his mouth. After a few minutes the howling stopped and the wind died down.
"Thanks for helping me close the doors, Axel," Demyx grinned, coming around the table to sit by Roxas.
"No problem," Axel replied, putting something back around his neck. A rosary? "You okay kid?
"What—what was that?" Roxas choked out after a minute. Demyx and Axel exchanged a look.
"Just a bit of wind," they answered at the same time.
"Got it memorized?" Axel added. He and Demyx began to laugh. Roxas chuckled weakly.
"Nice try." Axel and Demyx looked at him with the same expression, a guarded mixture of confusion, worry, and warning.
"See you around, kid," Axel said. "Bye, Demyx." And with the same small wave, Axel disappeared down the hallway.
"Seriously, Demyx, what was that? It didn't have any skin…" Demyx chuckled, but it sounded forced.
"Wind," he said in a voice that left no room for argument. "Now come on, I want to show you the entrance hall."
Roxas couldn't sleep that night. Every time he closed his eyes or drifted off he would be whisked away to where he didn't want to be.
The hallway stretched out before him, dark and silent. The only noise was a 'drip, drip' that seemed to follow him as he crept down the hall. He didn't know why he was creeping, just that he had to be quiet. His feet made no noise on the carpet as he walked, but a loose floorboard creaked and his head snapped up. There was someone there! His hand shot up toward the person and as the knife scratched the glass he realized that it was his reflection. He was looking in a mirror. He sighed, and lowered the knife, studying his reflection. Thoughts sprang to his mind unbidden. Why was he doing this? What if Victor hadn't been—? No. He had been. With her. It was the truth.
He wiped angrily at the tears that had begun to fall, leaving streaks on his face. He looked harder at his reflection. The bags under his eyes stood out starkly against his pale skin, as did the streaks of blood. Suddenly he turned away, the sight of the blood making his stomach churn. He dropped the knife on the floor and headed into the nearest room.
Taking off his shirt, the man turned on the faucet and scrubbed his hands until they were raw and painful. Grabbing a towel out of the linen closet he wet it and roughly washed his face, ridding himself of the blood. Then he went into the bedroom and over to the closet. Flinging the doors open he looked for something in his size. He was lucky, and found black pants and a white button down shirt that fit rather well. Next he went over to the vanity, viciously taking a comb off the table and tugging it through his hair. The reflection of the well-dressed, presentable man in the mirror mocked him until he picked up a book from the table and threw it, breaking the glass.
Breathing heavily, the man stared at the fragments. His eyes stung as he stood there, watching them fall onto the table and carpet. Clink, clink, clink. Victor's words rang in his mind:
"You look very handsome tonight, Jonathan." "Dance with me Jonathan, you don't look like you're having much fun!" And finally, the last thing he had ever heard his lover say.
"Why are you doing this to me, Jonathan?"
He grabbed a coat out of the closet and ran out of the room, past the bloody knife, and past the room where his love lay dead. He ran until he reached the front door and stopped. Straightening up and composing himself, he opened the door and spilled moonlight into the otherwise dark hall. Stepping out, he closed the door behind him and leaned against the doorframe, facing his two companions. He had to say something.
"Good work gentlemen, that went very well."
Roxas's eyes snapped open. Holy Hell, why did this keep happening?! Roxas rubbed his hand across his face and rolled over, facing Demyx's bed. …Demyx's bed without Demyx in it. For a moment, he just stared. Then he remembered that Demyx had said he'd be sleeping in Zexion's room tonight and tried to calm his heartbeat down. Why was he so scared? Honestly, this was ridiculous. Roxas flipped onto his stomach and buried his face in his pillow. After about 15 minutes of all but suffocating himself he turned onto his back and put his hand across his eyes.
He lay like this for more than 3 hours, telling himself that it wasn't because he was afraid to go back to sleep, only that he wasn't tired. Not long after trying to convince himself of this, Roxas's eyes started to slip shut. Against his will, he felt sleep overtake him.
The hallway stretched out before him, dark and silent—
Meanwhile, as the moon rose higher into the sky, it shone light down on a gathering of people in the courtyard of the school.
"Roxas can see them too. He's one of us! We should start training him right away!"
"No, it's too dangerous. Dangerous for him, dangerous for us."
"It's even more dangerous for him, and us, if we don't teach him!"
"Don't argue with me, Demyx."
"I can't believe I actually have to argue about this with you, Zexion!"
"Don't forget your place, novice."
"Oh, so you want to play that card, do you?" Well fine! I'm leaving, and I'll train him myself!" Silence reined in the clearing as 11 heads in identical black hoods turned to face him.
"Nein, du kannst es nicht alleine tun,1" a new voice spoke.
"He's right you know," said a slightly higher voice, female. "Even if you do manage to convince him to become a Member, how are you going to train him? You don't even know everything yet!"
"Thank you," Zexion said, looking pointedly at Demyx. "Sit down, Demyx." Demyx remained standing, looking defiant.
"Jedoch stimmen wir nicht zu das er keinen Schutz braucht.2"
"Exactly," the female voice said, nodding. "They go for anyone who can see them."
"I have no idea what he just said," said a voice from the other side of the circle, "but I think training this kid would be fun."
"No problem, Demyx. You can even train him if you want, I'll just watch and help here and there."
"Sweet! Thanks Axel!" Axel just smiled and pulled his hood down.
"When do we start?"
"No! Demyx, as your mentor and lover I forbid you from doing this!"
"Why Zexion? Give me one good reason."
"Because training new exorcists is dangerous!" he finally exploded, glaring at Demyx. "And—and I don't want you to get hurt," he finished quietly, looking away. Demyx's eyes filled with tears and he hugged Zexion.
"I'll be okay, Axel will help me. You should help, too. You can train both of us at the same time!"
"I'll help," said another voice
"Yeah, me too," another piped up.
"I will do my best to make sure Mr. Dereveau has the best training available," said Xemnas rising.
"As will I," said vice-principal Saix.
"Ich möchte helfen, auch.3"
"Yeah, I wanna help, too!" the female voice said, nodding.
"Really? Thanks Marluxia! Thanks Larxene! Thank you all!" Demyx said. "We'll start tomorrow!"
1 "No, you cannot do it alone."
2 "We do not agree, however, that he does not need protection."
3 "I would like to help, also."
That wasn't too bad, was it? I really hope not... Anyway, the deal with Marluxia is this: He was born in Germany and lived there until he was 12. Then his family moved to Japan (that's where this story takes place, and even though I am typing in English, they are speaking Japanese) and he was sent to Oblivion Heights. He refused to speak what he believed to be a terrible language, learned it but didn't speak it, so his roomates either learned German or got a phrase book. Larxene is the only one who speaks fluent German besides Marly. Better now?
Please review, and I'll try to post new chapters...sometime.