A/N: Those of you who are reading my other story, I'm Not Falling...probably wonder what the hell I'm doing updating/creating another story. ;.; But tis not my fault! The voice....the voice in my head commands me! PLZ allow me to do as it says!!! ;;;;.;;;;

I get an idea for a story, I type it. I can't help it - it's how i operate. i think up a new story at least every two weeks. But, I can only update so much, so I'm forced alot to shut down my imagination. But I can't do it anymore -yawns- My brain's tired from the fight....

Disclaimer: I own neither Demyx nor Zexion nor Kingdom Hearts BUT! I DO own the Moogle (y'know, that one moogle you meet in the game of kingdom hearts 2? dont confuse him with that moogle, cuz I own this one. yes, him. Unmistakeable, isnt he? x3 ....No, i lie. I dont even own him -.- -cries-)

Fact: No One Quoted "Life Is Fair"

There's not one thing in the world that can't be explained. This is Zexion Anderson's one philosophy of life. No, don't even start with all your miracles and your religion because that's all faith. Faith is a feeling - a gut feeling that something is true. No proof, no pictures, no witnesses, no fact.

Ah, now there was something to believe in. Facts. Showing that something in life was true, was believable and that you could, indeed, take a fact's word for it. A fact didn't lie. A fact was never betraying. A fact....A fact was comfortable.

Sitting by himself in a corner table as usual, Zexion huddled his knees close to his chest, an open book before him and his untouched tray next to him. Around him, teenagers buzzed with the increasingly annoying first-day-of-school fever. Girls giggled, gossiped and exclaimed once they saw they were indeed reunited after the 'long' vacation of, what, hours? But it was a ritual all schools participated in, and Twilight High was no different.

At first, the culture of discrimitive high schools seemed to dwindle away, but Zexion was far too observant to know that that was false. There closest to the lunch line were the 'Left Overs', students who didn't belong anywhere in particular so were forced to band in a tight knit to make it appear that, yes, they had a place - though it was to be out of everyone else's way. Zexion knew them to be leaning on what cheerleaders classified as 'wanna-be's'.

Right in front of the cafeteria doors - the closest exit - sat the brace-faced, glasses occupant 'Nerds'. They were closer to the doors in order to avoid hussle, quickly finish a, to their opinion, time-consuming lunch, and then speed off to class for unneeded extra credit or something to that nature.

Across from them on the other side of the room the goths, metal-heads and the like dominated, ranging from quietly picking at their food to performing need-to-be-practiced-more air guitars. Ties were once again discarded, shredded or studded - all school offenses - and hair dyed - another demerit.

And, of course, in the pit of the cafeteria, center tables of everyone else, sat the jocks and their ever demanding cheerleader girlfriends. And there they were, eating, joking, and bragging as if everyone else wasn't gazing upon them in admiration and envy. The cheerleaders kept up their never-ending taunts and seductive teases that seemed to always run in their genetic code, settling themselves on jocks' laps and leaning into them so close that the guys could feel those squishy and somehow alluring pieces of flesh that made up the cheerleader's chest.

But, yes, the more dominant species aside...

There were also those who didn't necessarily care, like Zexion. Yes, few and far between, but the slate-haired teen was positive some form of speciation would occur and perhaps the other high-schoolers would follow his example of straying from primitive lifestyles. He wasn't necessarily sure when he'd find any new advantages to support this hypothesis, but until then, he was content in staying behind a book.

"Corner table again, Zexion?"

Aquamarine eyes flitted upward to meet baby blue. Forming what one could identify as a half-smile, the singled out teen replied, "Once a loner, the way it goes, I believe. And I thought I wouldn't be seeing you for another few days, Lexaeus."

The auburn-haired boy, Lexaeus, sat down next to Zexion, lunch tray in hand. "Parents decided to bring me back early." Lexaeus was tall and broad, often being mistaken to be older than the eighteen year old he actually was, the standard THS uniform of a white shirt, black pants and tie looking ridiculous on him.

"Finished their labs in Hollow Bastion, did they?" the other asked knowingly. Lexaeus' parents were professors in a university, but always traveling as lab assistants for their boss Ansem Wise.

Nodding silently, Lexaeus returned to nit-picking his food, probably trying just as hard as Zexion to ignore the fuss and bustle surrounding them. Zexion, figuring he wasn't going to get much reading done now, decided to start eating the seemingly less-than-edible school food.

"How'd the summer schooling go?"

It was never a casual conversation - always some sort of ice breaker as if the two were strangers. Even among a so called 'friend' Zexion knew he gave off that 'antisocial' aura that followed him everywhere.

Setting down a soggy-looking sandwich, Zexion replied, "Productive actually, although the numbers of failed students was...eye-opening. However," taking a glance over at the popular center of the so called 'cafeteria universe', he said, "However the actual persons attending you'd believe. And honestly, I'm positive no one understood their required subjects even after the hours of tutoring."

"The regulars, huh?" Lexaeus inquired, too knowing of Zexion's summer job experiance. "At least summer school stopped in July."

"And my salvation had arrived," the slate-haired boy agreed. Seeing as the rest of the period would be pretty much silent - now that they 'talked' about their vacations and all - Zexion thought to hell with it and picked up his book to resume reading. Lexaeus didn't protest but Zexion could've sworn he opened his mouth, about to say something, but closed it.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:

"'Peer tutoring'?" Zexion read the file he was handed aloud. A thin eyebrow arched in disbelief and with the one visible eye he had, stared down his counselor in question.

Sighing, Miss Lockhart leaned back in her seat, nodding as if that would answer all the questions in the world. The still inquiring look about Zexion's eye, she said, "Well, I hear you did an excellent job in the teaching field during summer school. The staff has been short recently and we'd really appreciate your help, Mr. Anderson."

"You really have no one else?" Zexion asked in what could've been a desperate tone, but he never highly expressed himself in ways as obvious as voice. "Listen, I wasn't the only one in attending. There had been Selphie, Fran, even-"

"Yes, yes, but you're the only good pair of hands I have!" Miss Lockhart exclaimed in almost a pouting manner. Gesturing to the paper, she added, "The program is only for a semester-"

"'Semester'?" Zexion repeated. He hadn't read that part yet! What else is binding him to this contract to which he hasn't even signed, much less glanced over!

"A semester, yes. But I'll make it as painless as possible-"

That remains to be an opinion, Zexion thinks, the tone in his mind as flat and disbelieved as his actual voice.

"-Just look at the guy I have picked out for you. It's only one person and they'll be no shifts - you two will stick together like glue for five months!" she concludes happily, and Zexion wasn't sure if she purposefully added the FIVE MONTHS part to torture him or to inform him. Or to inform him in a most torturing manner.

Crossing his arms, Zexion examined the paper up and down, looking for flaws, a loop hole - well, I guess he could always say 'no'...

"He's also a senior like you, y'know. I looked over both your schedules and it looks like you're both sharing 1st period creative writing, so you probably already know him," Miss Lockhart continued irrelevently. Seeing the unamused expression upon Zexion's normal apathetic face, she said, "Please, Mr. Anderson? Just do me this one favor; in the past three years you've been here, I've asked nothing of you. It's only a few weeks so I'm positive you'll get to be close friends in no time."

In the mean time, inside Zexion's head, he took all the appropriate mental notes to lead him to the conclusion this was a set-up into the worst things he could imagine.

The paper had a list of bullets to show the key points of this peer tutoring. And none of them Zexion liked - it all mostly pointed to socializing and actually conversing with someone he wasn't even aware existed. Summer school, now that had been different - he had needed extra money at the time and teaching, educating, knowing - that was all things he excelled at. But this...could be a choice. He didn't have to do this and the tutoring was twice as long a time period as the summer courses!

Zexion let his gaze fall to the name printed neatly on the bottom with Miss Lockhart's handwriting, Demyx Watera.

Dragged back into a horrid reality, Zexion nearly stumbled with his sentence there was so much disbelief in his tone, "....Miss Lockhart, am I right in restating that you've assigned me to Demyx Watera?"

"-and then there's the... Huh? Oh, yes, that's your student in need."

"He's...captain of the swim team..." Zexion initially didn't think to let the statement wander, but he then realized he didn't know what to say after that.

"Uh, yeah..." Miss Lockhart said slowly, giving the slate-haired boy an 'are-you-okay...?' look. "Coach Highwind wants to see improvement in his chemistry, calculus and english."

Zexion nearly blanched in the appall of it all. "Three subjects? How is it I didn't see him in summer school?"

"He was enrolled. Didn't help much; he barely passed eleventh grade."

Beyond help. That's what this boy was: beyond help. And Zexion didn't know where to start if he was ever to tutor Demyx. Let's be honest now - if the guy barely made it to senior year, how could Zexion ever hope to get his attention long enough for him to actually do his job - the guy would probably go on and on about breast-strokes, laps or whatever else swimmers conversed themselves with. Demyx was just an entire species away from him! Was a challenge always welcomed? Maybe Demyx wasn't really like that, but...

Setting the paper face-down on the counselor's desk, Zexion flipped his hair back coolly and said bluntly, "I think I'll pass."

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:

Xelruna: Okie-dokies, then. My imagination is satisfied! ....For the moment, but anyway, I'm still pretty content right now. It is short, but it's sorta an intro-ish thing. I'm not all too sure how this will all turn out. Well, I DO, but I don't know how to fill the gaps in between my cob-webbed mind. XXD

Oh! BTW, this is sorta a story branched off of another of mine called Such A Pretty Face. You don't need to read it to understand the story, but I'm just saying they bump into one another from time to time. xp

Peace out!