A/N: I'll make this quick. Thanks for clicking on this story. As of right now, I'm not sure if it's worth continuing. I hope I get at least a few reviews suggesting what I should do with this. :) I'd like to point out (in potential future chapters) the author's note will be place at the bottom of the chapter, so you don't have to read it first.

The title's dumb, isn't it? I couldn't really think of something amazing, so I named it something amazing-ly lame. It refers to a thing, later on. (And basically, my inspirtation was based off this really weird fic I read on here a bit ago. And I didn't mean weird in a bad way, either. Anyway, I can't remember the title to that either. Wow I'm bad with names.) But yeah, so basically, this is a Zemyx. It also involves AkuRoku, and maybe some RiSo? And definitely some Marly x everrrrryone~. Haha, just kidding. Maybe. So, read n' review. Tell me if you liked it and if I should continue. Or that you hated it with every fiber of your being and I should burn it. Whichever, as long as you're honest! Thanks~! (Note: The italics, with the lines n' stuff are the part of the list. :D)

Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts. If I did, well... Let's just say, if you're male, you'd be utterly gay. :D

And quite possibly, if I don't get many reviews, I'll probably discontinue this. :/ SO REVIEW! I'll give you sea-salt ice cream. :0

Follow these like your life depends on it, sweetie! I love you. -mom. :)

His mother had written a list.

On a bright blue piece of paper (when he was seven, his mom had come to realize if it's bright or shiny, Demyx Myde Cerise was attracted to it), rules were thoughtfully written in; slightly crumpled in its age. It was posted on the white space of his refrigerator, a 'recommendation' of sorts. He remembered coming home to her petite form taping the sheet onto the slightly ridged surface, how she smiled at him as she urged him over to look over the penciled in rules.

Sick. Even at the age of ten, they simply made him sick- because they dominated his childhood, manipulated it into something he didn't want it to be.

Kids were suppose to be expressive, be messy, and loud, and creative. But his mother approved of anything but. That's what made him sick. How his mother deprived him of a simple childhood, and was so god damn proud of that list.

But he smiled. Demyx always smiled.

'Little boys don't kiss other little boys, no matter how pretty they are.'

That was the last rule etched in, among the plenty already written. It was because his father divorced his mother to be with a man, and it horrified her. Disgusted her. Broke her. She wouldn't admit to this, but his mother didn't want her baby to be like his father.

And that was the biggest dream of all- Demyx, even all little boys, wanted to be like their father.

The blond had decided the second he moved out, he would dedicate his time to breaking every rule his mother had laid out for him. Though, some rules would have to deal with being broken before his coming of age.

He just liked kissing little boys too much.

Never make a career out of music. You'll regret it.

"Are you sure you don't want any? They're on the house for our performers." Flirting as usual, Marluxia waved a cone shaped glass half-filled with a liquid, a light pink that was easily outshone by his own bright locks. "I'm pretty sure we've got something here that could kill those butterflies floating around in that tiny little stomach of yours- non-virgin."

The male on the opposite side of the counter shook his head, fingers idly playing with the frayed sleeves of his light blue hoodie. "I'm against insect-cruelty," he pathetically attempted to laugh, failing to at the sound of cheering; applause. "And alcohol." A few more acts before he was up, he mentally noted. He was so excited, he was nervous, and so nervous, he was completely nauseated.

"Marluxia, are you trying to serve an underage customer alcohol again?" The manager chuckled, sliding a beer to his own customer before making his way over to the two. "We're pulling enough strings with Blondie here being seventeen."

"I'm nineteen Xigbar."

The man was an odd character, so odd in fact, the musician thought him to be bi-polar. One moment, he was laughing his ass off and cranking out jokes, and the next, well, let's just say the last time someone tried jumping onto the stage with the club's dancers, did not end pretty.

The drunkard ended up with more scars on his face than Xigbar himself.

"Same difference." Distracted by the sound of a few complaining girls, the man rushed over to service the lot of them.

"Hey, Marluxia, could you please go get Axel for me? I'd really appreciate it." Though it was his first time performing in front of this crowd, the blond certainly knew it well, seeing as his best friend happened to be a (regular) performer and bartender at Oblivion. It was a medium sized club over packed with the sweaty bodies of newcomers and loyal attendees, who seemed to enjoy the owner's push for diversity. Most nights, Oblivion was your average nightclub- Rougher environment, sultry dancers on the stage, flirty bartenders behind the counter, and flashy neon lights that emphasized the glisten of moistened skin, like diamonds, the blond always thought.

But on rare nights like tonight, the lights were dimmed, not flashing. Tables were lined up, employees taking orders instead of prancing around the stage, were many unknown faces were currently lining up to give it their all; to give them a show they would never forget.

That was why he was there.

"Deeeeeeemyx-boy!" The blonde peered up to see the familiar redhead, a sheepish grin forming on his lips. The male swung an arm around the musician's shoulder, taking up the stool beside his lithe body. "What's up? Marly called me over, so I'm assuming you're a fucking nervous wreck."

"And Bingo was his name-o!" He sang, a hiccup escaping his throat. A hand suddenly found his mouth, as his eyes widened in pure horror. "Nonononon-hiccup-no! I can't have the hiccups! I'm-hiccup-up next!"

Axel chuckled, asking politely (or as politely as he could, anyway) for a water. "Calm down," he whispered softly, stroking his arm to comfort the man as he handed him the glass. "Now drink this now, and hope you don't piss on stage."

"Axeeeeeeeeeeeee-hiccup-eeeeel! Not funny!"

"I thought it was hysterical."

"You would," he responded in between long gulps. Oh my David Bowie, they're cheering! I'm up! Swallowing the last of the glass' contents, Demyx slid out of his chair, the arm that was once around him now hanging loosely at Axel's side. Don't be nervous, don't be nervous!

A pair of jade eyes interlocked with his for a moment, familiar tattoos giving him a spark of hope. "You'll be amazing. Got it memorized?" The blond only nodded, tearing away from the presence reluctantly. You'll be amazing, just like Axe said. You have to believe in yourself, Dem.

"Now, put your hands together for Demyx Cerise!"

Omigod! Panic, sheer panic, rippled through his body as he climbed into the seat in the center of the stage. I can do this. Unpacking his sitar, a sixteenth birthday present from Axel, he took a slow breath, silently thanking whoever that his hiccups were gone. "Hi, everyone... Thanks for coming here tonight. I know, you probably didn't come to see me, but I appreciate it nonetheless!" He lowered the microphone a bit so it was the perfect height to carry out both his sitar's notes and his voice, face flushing pink at the sound of what he assumed to be one of the bartenders yelling 'Play that funky music white boy' across the room.

"I hope you like it."

The second he began strumming the instrument, he suddenly didn't feel so nervous. He looked up once, lips parting against the head of the mic as prepared to belt out a ballad he had carefully picked out- when his sea-green gaze met the most amazing set of cobalt they had ever seen, in the midst of the crowd.

"This is for you..." Demyx mumbled, never tearing away from the pair of eyes watching him with a subtle interest. "Table four!"

His first time performing, and he was dedicating the song to a stranger? Why not Axel, or the staff, or the whole crowd of people waiting to hear him? No matter, because the man was now sitting up awkwardly in his seat, eyes narrowed as he focused on the blond, ignoring all the stares in his direction. The musician had gotten his attention, and now, all he could do, was sing.