Ĉђąρτεŕ ƒøʊŕτεεη » Ħαẕεʟηʊτ Mąḉčнḯαтø

Hazelnut: (noun) The nut of the hazel shrub; has a smooth, shiny, hard shell.
Macchiato: (noun) An espresso coffee served with a dash of hot or cold milk.
Hazelnut Macchiato: (noun) Keeps you sufficiently awake when you need to do your homework. Rikku has other ideas about this drink.

"The One Where The Fix Does Not Figure Prominently."

It wasn't even 6 in the morning yet and Cloud was up and about, pottering around his kitchen, putting the kettle on, preparing a mug of Swiss Miss, and making himself a delightful spam and egg sandwich for breakfast. The sun was barely rising, his apartment was silent as the grave. The fact that the man was already awake at this hour was miraculous, but the truth was Cloud hadn't slept a wink all night. And this was despite him being incredibly tired from the whole drinking charade the night before. (What the fuck had that been about, anyway?)

He'd spent the better part of the night doing his laundry. No, actually, he'd spent about an hour on the laundry. The rest of the night he'd devoted solely to thinking about Leon. Because who in their right mind wouldn't want to think about that ridiculously gorgeous, painfully beautiful idiot? That ridiculously gorgeous, painfully beautiful idiot who had no goddamn clue about how Cloud felt?

His mind wandered back to the end of their shift yesterday, when Leon had very chivalrously given him a lift home. Their conversation in the car had been surprisingly intelligent. In fact, Cloud was delighted to find that he and Leon had similar opinions on certain important matters. For one, they both agreed that Axel was a downright unrestrained moron most of the time, especially around Roxas, but that Axel was also one of the things that made The Fix The Fix, and really, it just would not do to have the redhead absent from the establishment.

They also agreed on a few other things: Demyx couldn't possibly know all the languages he claimed to know, despite his obvious proficiency in French. Roxas will probably end up quitting in the near future (that or breaking one of Axel's limbs). Sora and Riku will probably not last very long, seeing as how they were totally and utterly complete opposites of each other.

Good thing these two were total rubbish at judging people.

And then Leon had to go and bring up the one thing that Cloud had thought (hoped) the man had forgotten by the end of their eye-opening drinking session.

He'd said, "I believe you mentioned you were no longer attracted to the opposite sex?"

Cloud had done the smart thing and hid his panic behind a well-practiced glower and went with "What?", because he'd decided to play dumb. "You must have heard wrong." And then he'd realised he probably sounded really stupid because his voice was surely several octaves too high.

Leon had given his passenger a sidelong glance and rolled his eyes, not the least bit surprised by Cloud's defensiveness. "If you for one second think I don't remember everything from the other night, you are sadly mistaken. I know what you said, and I know you meant it."

Cloud had blinked at that and clearly remembered wanting to open his mouth to say something to throw Leon off, but Leon wasn't done yet. Leon said, with some degree of seriousness, "Your sexual orientation doesn't bother me, Strife. It really doesn't."

And then there'd been an awkward silence in the car as Cloud mulled over Leon's words with some sort of sluggish alarm.

"It shouldn't bother anyone at work either," Leon had added dryly, but Cloud had this strange feeling that it was his companion's attempt at throwing humour into the conversation as an attempt to defuse his anxiety.

And Cloud had just fidgeted restlessly in his seat for a moment before putting on an expression of nonchalance and replying with, "That's good to know."

And then Leon did the courteous thing and dropped the subject entirely. They'd spent the rest of the drive to Cloud's apartment talking about paleo pancakes.

Cloud pulled himself out of his thoughts regarding paleo pancakes and concentrated on his delicious sandwich and hot chocolate. He had over an hour to go before work started.

7:45am. Demyx Aeco, professionally qualified barista at Caffeine Fixation and second year music major at University of Twilight, did not have to work today. Instead, he sat in the cool depths of his bedroom mindlessly twirling a purple Sharpie between his fingers. He glanced down at his current handiwork with a proud, dreamy smile on his face.

The giant poster he'd created within the span of five whole minutes glared back at him, begging for a little more aesthetic charm. It simply pronounced, without any illustration whatsoever:—

CAFFEINE FIXATION PRESENTS

One night only!
« MISMATCHED THIRTEEN »
PERFORMING LIVE

DATE: 24 JULY 2015
TIME: 8:30PM - 12:00AM

Featuring:
TIDUS DEHAAN | LEAD VOCALS, RHYTHM GUITAR
DEMYX AECO | LEAD GUITAR, BACKING VOCALS
NOEL KREISS | BASS GUITAR
SNOW VILLIERS | PERCUSSION

His phone buzzed.

He scrabbled for it immediately, nearly crushing his ridiculous poster in the process.

Of course pop punk is a dying genre, his phone read, and maybe music's heading in a really stupid direction right now, but that's evolution for you. Every artist is looking to try something new, and they are not wrong in doing so.

Grinning stupidly and feeling entirely in his element (because of course an ongoing conversation about music with someone who knew exactly what the hell he was talking about would make his heart soar), Demyx fired back a text almost immediately. But maybe it's time everyone just regressed and went back to their roots. Who knows, perhaps one day even classical music will become popular again.

Demyx tossed the Sharpie onto his desk as soon as he sent the message, stood, stretched, and smiled when his phone buzzed again. He could get used to this. This undivided attention he was receiving. Flinging himself onto his unmade bed, he read the text.

We can only hope, but I sincerely doubt it. Not everyone can stomach that kind of music, not today. Too melodious, too soft, too slow for some, too boring for others.

Ah. Your take on classical music?

Not at all. I'm a classically trained pianist, I can appreciate the subtle nuances.

Piano AND guitar? What else do you play?

Just the two. Piano had been the will of my parents when I turned 8. Guitar, the will of my more rebellious side when I crossed into adolescence.

Have you ever tried NOT being amazing?

You're one to talk, Dem. Tidus has told me you play at least 6 instruments. Guitar, banjo, ukulele, sitar, violin, ocarina. God knows what else.

Demyx felt a surge of pride threaten to overwhelm him. Piccolo flute and mandolin, he couldn't help but add to the ridiculous list. Totally beside the point. You're freaking 19 years old and you're THIRD year! How does that even happen?

Skipped a grade in high school, got fast-tracked in college. Not a big deal. How do you know my age?

At that, Demyx's fingers stilled against his keypad. Uh oh. Ummmmm, he typed hesitantly, I kind of maaaaaybe read your blog. Please don't kill me!

Not more than five whole seconds passed before his phone started buzzing with the unmistakable lyrics of Lifehouse's Hanging By A Moment and the name "ZEXION" flashing bright across the screen.

Demyx nearly died of shock.

"I cannot quantify the level of pure embarrassment I am currently feeling, knowing you have been reading my blog," was the first thing Zexion said when Demyx answered.

Demyx winced and swallowed. "I will stop immediately if that'll make you feel better?" he offered in a tiny voice, aware that he probably sounded like an idiot.

It was a long time before Zexion finally replied with a single word. "Don't."

Demyx's relief manifested as a smile and he decided to change the subject because he figured Zexion wasn't ready to delve into a discussion about his blog today, if at all. "Class today?" he asked instead and wondered if the question was a little too casual.

"Class in five minutes actually—" There was a muffled sound in the background and Zexion made a small distracted noise before continuing, "lecturer just walked in so I'm gonna hang up— goddammit Riku, if you don't stop leaning into me like that I swear—"

The line went dead.

"Hmm," Demyx said to his empty room, replaying the short conversation in his head. "J'aimerais l'entendre chanter," he decided after a moment.

8:15am. Riku's head was smushed into the desk in front of him and it looked incredibly uncomfortable. It also looked like he didn't care that it was incredibly uncomfortable. Zexion was silently observing him out of the corner of his eye with a great amount of highly concealed amusement even as he dutifully penned down his notes with neat and precise handwriting. Up the front of the lecture hall, Professor Abigail Griffin was rambling on about disease prevention and management methods.

Eventually, Zexion grew bored of Riku's melodramatic head-drooping and decided to question his friend on exactly why he looked as though he'd spent the entire night running a marathon.

"What in the world did you get up to last night? You've got me very interested," Zexion said, voice even and polite and maybe just a little bit mocking.

It took Riku a few seconds to realise that Zexion was talking to him, mostly due to the fact that Zexion never talked to him in the middle of class because Zexion was a model student and had, on several occasions, made it clear that he was definitely not above violently shushing you the hell up during an important lecture. Also, Riku was exhausted.

"Don't you know?" he mumbled with a stupid grin on his face.

Zexion raised an eyebrow. "Demyx told me you left The Fix with Sora last night before his shift even ended."

"Ha!" Riku feigned delight, lifting his head an inch from the table. "Besties with your musician already. Knew you had it in you, Z."

Zexion ignored Riku and said, rather ruthlessly, "Did you take advantage of that poor minor?"

At that, Riku actually turned to stare. "Excuuuse me?" He looked scandalised. "I kept my hands to myself, thank you very much. Sora's the one who needs some restraining." And then Riku frowned at himself as though just realising how much of a prude he sounded. "We just went to see a late movie, alright?"

Zexion snorted. "What did you see, Magic Mike XXL?"

Riku rolled his eyes. "A horror flick, dumbass. First rule of dating: scary movies make them want to get as close to you as possible."

"Right. Now I understand why he couldn't keep to himself."

"Well actually, he was stroking my biceps and playing with my hair. I don't think he even knew what was going on in the movie."

"… Just stop taking, Riku."

"The Roxmeister told me to tell you guys that he's totally sick and dying and won't be coming to school at all today," was the first thing Sora said to his posse during morning break at the jam-packed cafeteria. He threw himself onto one of the benches at their designated table and proceeded to unwrap his caramelised onion triple cheese and jalapeño bacon burger. Nobody said the private institution of Saint Alexandros' College didn't look after their kids.

Pence glanced up from the fat paperback novel he was reading, shrugged nonchalantly, and said, "Winter is coming."

Penelo chucked half a sour cream-slathered potato wedge in Pence's direction (it hit Hope Estheim in the head) and grinned at Sora. "First time he's missed a day of school all year! I was starting to think he was invincible!"

Vaan wasn't too impressed. "Man! The dude promised he'd let me copy off his homework today! Sora, I demand your Chemistry worksheets. You did them, right?"

Sora frowned, confused. "I don't take Chemistry, Vaan. Only you and Rox do."

"DAMN IT."

"Calm down," Penelo said. "If you start on them now, you'd probably get them done before next period."

Vaan huffed frustratedly. "There are like 50 questions or something stupid. And I think I left them at home anyway."

"Idiot," Pence muttered under his breath, breezily flipping a page.

"You're screeeewed," Vanille sang from the end of the table where she was patiently dabbing away at Hope's messed up hair with a napkin.

Hope, in turn, squinted at Sora, who was now picking out the onions from his burger and arranging them into a love heart on the table and humming a tune that sounded like that catchy Pharrell Williams song.

"Guys, I think Sora's in love."

By the afternoon, Demyx had replicated half a dozen of his snazzy posters. He resolved to head over to The Fix before the day ended so he could stick them on the front doors of the café and on a few lamp posts along the street. You know, effective advertising.

Then he decided to make a quick phone call to Yuna. She picked up on the first ring. Except it wasn't her on the other end.

"Those gosh darn hazelnut macchiatos, Dem!" Rikku's voice filtered through the receiver, as though they were already in the middle of a conversation. "Y'know, they're a ke-raaaazy two hundred and thirty calories, not including all that schmoopy syrupy stuff that goes all over the top," the girl quipped. "That drink'll go straaaaight to ya hips! And them hips don't lie!"

"Says the girl who orders toffee nut lattes and eats at least ten double stuffed Oreos a day," a voice in the background intoned dryly. It sounded suspiciously like Paine.

There was a muffled floomp noise that sounded like Rikku had attempted to chuck something lumpy at her antagonist. "Don't be a poop head, Doctor P! I totally need— hey, no—!" the rest of Rikku's exclamation was cut short when it seemed that someone had plucked the phone out of her hands. Two seconds later, Yuna's voice came filtering through the receiver.

"Demyx! Sorry, I was on my other phone! Yuna here."

"Other phone? How many phones d'you have?!"

"Just two. One for work, the other for cool people like you."

"Maybe you can spare one for my boss."

"Let me guess, he dropped it down the toilet?"

"Threw it out a window."

"Not strange at all."

Demyx laughed at the scepticism in Yuna's voice. "Tell me about it! Anyway, I'm calling to ask if YRP would like to do a gig this Friday? Short notice, I know - s'already Tuesday, buuuut if you and your girls are willin', there's gonna be a kickass party at The Fix and my band'll be there. Would be rad cool if we play consecutively that night! It'll give you guys some exposure."

"Wow, you're seriously asking us to play?" This was followed by some excited chattering in the background before Yuna said, "Hang on, let me put this on speaker—"

"WHAT'S THIS ABOUT A PARTY?" Rikku's voice crackled loudly through Demyx's phone then. "DID I HEAR SOMETHIN' 'BOUT A PARTY? DEMYX, WHAT IS THIS PARTY YOU SPEAK OF?"

"Keep going like that and you'll be talking to a deaf guy in the next two seconds," Paine drawled at a much more acceptable volume.

"Sorry!" Rikku yelled, albeit with a little more restraint. "This is just super dang duper exciting!"

It took a few moments for Demyx to give them details about the event. He tried to keep it brief, but he rambled on about many things. "—oh, and like, you'll get to meet the frontman of Mismatched, finally. I have a feeling you guys will totally hit off. Tidus loves meeting new people. Snow too, and Noel. Oh my gaaaahd, guys! It'll be so much fun!" and he eventually ended with: "So what do ya think? Wanna play? You gotta play!"

"I say yes," Paine responded first. "Let's do it."

"If Paine's in, I'm in!" Rikku chimed.

"That settles it then," Yuna said. "Party on Friday, YRP style!"

"YES! Très merveilleux!" Demyx whooped. "This Friday, yeah? We'll be at the scene a few hours before to set up and do all that sound check shiz. Mismatched will start the show at 8:30, and you gals can take the second half at 'round 10:30 and close at midnight. Plan your set to go for about an hour and a half."

"You can count on us, Demyx!" Yuna replied. "We'll keep in touch. Girls, practice sesh tonight!"

Rikku ended the call with a loud "HELLS YEAH".

Roxas Montana returned home last night with his terrible sore throat and his throbbing head and his congested nose. Roxas Montana returned home last night after being chaperoned by the very well-meaning Axel Onér. Roxas Montana returned home last night and as soon as he'd shut his door and turned around, his dear sister was there in the hallway, waiting for him with glittering eyes.

Roxas Montana returned home last night and was subsequently interrogated by Naminé Montana about the stranger who'd just walked him home.

"Who was that?" was the first thing she said to him, in the sweetest voice.

Roxas, after recovering from his near heart attack at being snuck up on by his sister, shot back instantly: "None of your business, that's who." He noted the stark orange spatters all over her white smock. She'd been painting again. She was always painting.

Naminé tsk-ed with calm patience. "A little too old for you, don't you think?" she said innocently.

Roxas spluttered for a few moments, more than a little horrified at his sister's suggestion. "What—! You… He's— what. No. No. I am way too sick to be having this conversation with you," he groused.

"Don't make me tell mom," she warned good-naturedly.

"You won't and you never will," Roxas stated matter-of-factly, smug in his knowledge that yes, while she was often slightly annoying, Naminé would never go behind his back and do anything so stupid as get her brother in any sort of trouble.

"Just looking out for you, darling brother."

Roxas shut his eyes tiredly and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Please. I am not in the mood to talk about this right now, Nam. Seriously. Look at me," he sniffled pathetically, "I'm dying."

"Jeez, you drama queen."

"You love it," Roxas deadpanned.

Naminé grinned at him. "Alright my dear little dying brother, I'll go make you some warm honey lemon water," she said and skipped off towards the kitchen.

Roxas sighed, happy to be left alone at last. Then he let out a little cough. Ugh. Not going to school tomorrow, definitely not going to work tomorrow, he decided dully.

Back to the present, some time past 9pm, after the shift at The Fix had ended, Roxas had a visitor at his door.

It was Sora. He had a huge box that had the words BOBBY DRAKE'S BAKERY emblazoned on the front in obnoxious curlicue font.

"Yo, Roxaaaas! How are you, man?! Still drugged up on flu medication, bro?"

Roxas scowled at his friend. "What in the world, Sora. It's 9:30. Go home."

"You look perky tonight!" Sora quipped. And he was right, Roxas had recovered significantly from his cold. His stay-at-home tactics worked tremendously.

"Why are you here, Sor?" Roxas asked pointedly. "And please tell me it has nothing to do with what you're holding."

Sora saluted gaily. "I came to deliver this box of pretty cupcakes to your doorstep, as instructed by my wonderful pal Axel."

"The fuck." Roxas wasn't amused.

"Don't be so hard on the guy, Rox," Sora bemoaned, restlessly shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "After hearing that you called in sick today, he totally went out to get these from the bakery down the street." The brunet purposefully shoved the box into Roxas' hands.

Roxas exhaled resignedly, gave Sora a tight smile and slowly opened the box (with maybe some amount of eagerness, but Roxas was chalking that up to the fact that he enjoyed sweet things in general, not because these stupid cupcakes came from Axel) to find four perfect cupcakes and two empty spots where there surely had been something there.

Roxas' eyes flashed up towards Sora and he scanned the boy's clothing mercilessly. The crumbs he spied on Sora's shirt confirmed his suspicions. Sora had eaten some on his way here.

"DUDE, YOU ATE MY CUPCAKES?"

Roxas' voice was loud enough that it echoed down the street.

Sora's eyes went wide at his friend's sudden display of possessiveness. "They were calling out to me," he defended, a trifle petulant. "Besides, you've still got four left!"

Roxas grumbled.

"I'm sorry!" Sora despaired, his puppy dog eyes shimmering in the darkness.

Roxas glared at his friend for a moment, considering. Eventually, he decided to just let it go. "Okay, whatever. It's not like I would've been able to eat six frickin' cupcakes all by myself anyway," Roxas said.

Sora beamed enthusiastically. "Remember to thank Axel when you see him!" he said, turning to leave. "I'm off, amigo! See you tomozza!"

After making sure that Sora had crossed the road safely and reached his own home, Roxas shut the door and retreated back into the recesses of his fancy house. He frowned down at the box in his hands and shook his head in silent exasperation. Cupcakes. What even.

He trudged into the kitchen and was just about to stick them in the fridge when he noticed a note stuck to the bottom of the box. Great.

It said, in predictably terrible handwriting:

'salted caramel, because that's what i got when i kissed you. hope you get better, sugar pie'.

Roxas made a mental note to give Axel tobacco flavoured cookies one day, then threw the disgusting idea out of his mind entirely too late. Dammit, what made him think for one second that he was going to be giving goddamn cookies to anybody? He shoved the box none-too-gently into the fridge and slammed the door shut.

He kept the note.

Author's note: Pence is such a darling.

* J'aimerais l'entendre chanter : I would like to hear him sing.

* Très merveilleux : Very wonderful.