Violin.

I

 There was something brutal about how cold winters in Canada could get, but I couldn't quite put my finger on what made it seem so horrid. I grew up in California, but I don't remember my time there, so I don't think I can possibly remember the feeling of the warm beaches surrounding me.

Jack Frost was gnawing at my nose in the most violent manner possible, while the snow danced around and landed on me like a fine layer of dust. It must have been an hour since I'd left the bank to meet with Demyx, but he was nowhere to be found at that time. He meant well, I knew he did, but he could have at least kept me from getting frostbitten in places one should not have frostbite.

The bench I sat on was old and creaky, a rather rickety hunk of wood that I feared would give out any moment now. I watched dogs as they walked past me; children accompanying them and throwing the snow around as if this was fucking enjoyable.

A loud creak and a shake - the feeling of the bench caving in on itself more or less - and Demyx was sitting beside me, hands digging through his coat pockets in search of something. I didn't have time to say hello before he'd pulled out a packet of cigarettes, a lighter and a ray of hope that he'd handed over. A smile washed over my face during the time I stopped paying attention to him and to this gift from God himself.

I flicked the lighter and put the cancer stick to balance carefully on my bottom lip. "I've been thinking a lot lately,"

"You... thinking? Do you need to see a doctor?" I cut him off and dropped the lighter into my jeans pocket, playing with the lit smoke between my fingers.

Demyx gave a slight chuckle but brushed my comment off. "You don't have anywhere to live right now, so why don't we get a place in the school dorms? It'd be nice, and there's no way they'd say no to someone in your situation."

I turned to him and I admit, it was a good idea. (He doesn't have those often.) But I couldn't wrap my mind around why he of all people would want to live in a high school dorm room. Rich kid, big house, get whatever you want. Oh, and loving family. Can't forget the loving family, can we? I had no fucking clue what about that wasn't appealing to him, but for Christ's sake it was Demyx.

"I'd be tagging along for obvious reasons, of course." ...Obvious reasons? Maybe I'm the slow one here. "You'd be lonely without me, right?" This time it was my turn to laugh; but it wasn't in a mean manner, don't behead me.

I pursed my lips around the cigarette that was slowly burning out and I rolled my eyes into my skull as I chewed the idea and tried to figure out just what this kid's thought process was. I didn't figure it out then; I still haven't. I had an idea, though.

"Hmm." I paused and inhaled the smoke. "Zexion lives in the dorms, doesn't he?" Zexion is this short teacher's pet that never quite grew out of his scene phase. Don't get me wrong though, he's cool. Really cool. 

Demyx looked flushed and slugged me in the shoulder. "That's not why I want to tag along, and you know it!"

He had this sort of... puppy crush on Zexion. I knew it, Zexion knew it, the entire fucking world knew it, but somehow Demyx was still oblivious to his own damn feelings. Maybe it was a masculinity thing, maybe he just really couldn't tell what it was. Zexion knew this and had tossed the idea around in his head a few times before, but he didn't want anything to go on between the two of them. They had a strong friendship already, and he thought anything beyond that was unnecessary. Poor Demyx. 

"It's not." He snapped a second time, reassuring that I had gotten his goddamned point across and I waved him off.

"No worries, I gotcha." I smiled. "You've got a good plan going, though."

  Sometime later that week we'd gone and gotten ourselves a room in the dorms, Demyx was my roommate after the staff chatted between themselves to see if Demyx should really have a room in the dorms, or if he should be allowed around me in general.

I'd been on the streets since partway through year eight, and it was year nine that we had gotten the dorm room together. That dorm room was ours in every sense; we were allowed to live there until we were graduating, summer and all. Which, is a rare case, but I guess they really, really took pity on me. I didn't mind it, if it meant being spoiled like this more or less. I was damn glad.

I'll spare you every painfully embarrassing detail from year nine and ten, though.