Chapter Text
Fluixon Aculon likes to pride himself on the fact that he’s an organized, civilized member of society.
Every aspect of his life is planned to the most minute detail—the time he awakes, what he eats, which days he will take his clothes for laundry. Some call it being a control freak, others preferring to soften it by saying he lives in a routine. No matter what, though, Fluixon stands by orienting himself on what he will be doing for the following week.
He prides himself on the predictability and confidence that nothing is awry in his life.
He, also, feels that he should have known things would be thrown into the gutter the moment he woke to sunlight in his eyes.
“Flux! Get up!” Cynikka doesn’t even have the heart to not shock him out of the deep slumber that he was in, preferring to rattle his bones by pounding on his door. “It’s quarter to seven!”
Shooting to sit up in his bed, ignoring the disorientation, he turns to look at his clock. Sure enough, it reads 6:45 AM.
“What the fuck!” He screams, throwing the covers off of his legs, stumbling over it as he runs to get his uniform.
His sister yells down the hall, “Shut the hell up! Dad’s still sleeping!”
He bites down the retort that threatens to escape his lips, something about her also screaming too, and instead focuses on pulling his uniform on.
Had it been a normal day, he would have been awake at 5:00 AM sharp, taking his time with his morning routine. As it stands, he’s pulling books into his bag, ripping his phone off its charger, and stomping down the stairs.
From her room, Cynikka yells again, “I said keep it down, dipshit!”
“I’m gonna be late!” Is all he responds, pulling out a slice of bread to shove into his mouth and sitting by the door to pull his shoes on.
He’s out the door before he can hear her snarky reply.
—
“Wow,” Thomas whistles, leaning on the wall by the school gates. “You look like death, and we’re only starting school. Were there any papers assigned that I didn’t know of?”
“Second week, to be exact,” Seraphim mutters beside him. She raises a brow, “Last week was full of orientations. I doubt there were any assignments.”
Fluixon huffs out, trying not to seem out of breath. “I’m fine.”
“Your tie is crooked,” Thomas points out.
That should have been his second warning, really. He never leaves the house if there’s even a single hair on his head that’s out of place, if he could help it.
“Whatever.” Is all he answers, busying his hands with fixing it. He makes a move to enter campus. “We’re gonna be late if you guys keep loitering here.”
Seraphim and Thomas follow behind him. Seraphim didn’t want to keep quiet for long, though, “So… Did the great Flux sleep in, or did a hurricane pass by your house?”
He doesn’t deign her with a response. That seems to crack Thomas up, though, because he laughs up a storm.
His two friends poke fun at him all the way to their classroom, and he can only be glad that Snowbird wasn’t here to add fuel to the fire. In hindsight, this was his third warning.
—
“My brothers are back from abroad,” Snowbird bemoans beside him. Which god did he anger to earn this guy as a deskmate? Regardless of his chatter, the teacher drones on. “Flux? Hellooooo? I said my brothers are back from abroad?”
“Shut up,” He hisses. Kicking the other under the table, he trains his eyes on his notes. “Mr. Schpood isn’t as kind as you think he is.”
“He’s also my sister’s fiance, so he won’t pick on me.”
“Nepotism.”
“I prefer connections.”
“This is why we need to unearth the current systems. Corruption loves to dress itself up in sugar.”
“You really need to drop your Lelouch kinnie act.”
“Jesus, fuck, you shut up…!”
“Why so worked up?”
A retort is on Fluixon’s lips, but Schpood immediately calls on him before he could bite. “Mr. Aculon, read page 168, won’t you?”
There’s an easygoing smile on his lips, but the look in his eyes tells Fluixon all that he needs to know. He glares at Snowbird, who shrugs, before clearing his throat and beginning to read out loud.
He ends up reading 4 entire pages.
“Okay, you can sit down now!” Schpood beams, before he jumps back into the lecture.
He’s sitting down when Snowbird whispers, “I don’t think what you read has anything to do with our lesson.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” He grits out, before deciding to tune his friend’s voice out. Everything really isn’t going according to plan today.
“Do you think it’s because you didn’t reply to me telling you that my brothers are back from abroad? They’re a grade above us.”
Fluixon doesn’t reply. Instead, he shoves paper into Snowbird’s mouth, and resolutely pulls out his highlighters.
—
“And he shoves paper in my mouth!” Snowbird complains for what feels like the nth time since the bell rang for lunch.
Thomas, ever laughing, cackles. “You called him a Lelouch kinnie unprovoked! You practically got on your knees and begged for it!”
“You’re being so loud,” Fluixon sighs, rubbing at his temples. It’s true—others were turning to look at them as they walked down the corridor.
“And your blazer is unbuttoned,” Seraphim mutters. He’s incredulous—who’s side is she on here?
“Shut up.” He says, but buttons it regardless.
Their mindless chatter continues effortlessly, as if they didn’t spend an entire summer not meeting each other. At the end of the day, Fluixon has to admit that his friends were always part of his plans, after all. A constant presence that’s as reliable as his routines.
Waving away such sappy thoughts, he turns the corner to reach the cafeteria, but is met with a face-full of another’s uniform.
“Fuck—” He rubs at his nose, the same time Thomas curses beside him.
He turns to look up.
Angelic white hair, soft eyes, a worried look.
Fuck, indeed.
—
“So nobody’s going to bring up how weirdly Thomas and Flux reacted to Snowbird’s brothers?” Seraphim talks through a mouthful of pizza, settled on a bean bag. Thomas throws a pillow at her face.
“Hey! That’s dad’s favorite covers!” Fluixon yells, hoping for a diversion. “Don’t get pizza oil on that, or I’m skinning you alive.”
Gotoga pipes up, “I don’t think they want to bring it up.”
“I literally don’t know what you’re talking about.” Thomas retorts in a tone that tells everyone he knows what they’re talking about.
“Right.” Snowbird drags the vowel, prolonging his response. “And I don’t think Schpood loves Jophiel.”
“Scandalous!” Seraphim yells, obviously joking. “Me, I don’t think that Cynikka’s been plotting on Cass!”
“I don’t think the sky’s even blue,” Gotoga adds.
Groaning, Fluixon pulls a pillow to his face. “You’re all impossible. I’m evicting you from my house. After class hangouts are forbidden from here on.”
“Right, and from here on, you’re crushing on one of them. Who?” Seraphim smirks.
“Don’t even kid, lad!” Snowbird yells, outraged.
Yeah. That’s what this was. An outrage. Against him. Because he’s not crushing! “Is it so hard to just believe I found someone pretty?”
The moment those words left his mouth, he knew he made a very, very grave mistake. Everyone’s eyes snap towards him, and there’s this shit eating grin on Gotoga’s face, a sparkle in Seraphim’s eyes, and a groan from Snowbird’s mouth.
“Holy shit, we’re right!”
“I fucking told you, pay up!”
“Please, just stay away from my brothers…”
“Which one is it?! Is it the prettier one?! Tell me who it is, Flux!”
He groans emerging from the pillow covering his face, and throws it immediately at Thomas. He thought he was on his side, but why’s he suddenly prattling questions?
Deciding to just commit to what he’d said (he’s not one to eat his own words, okay?), he answers, “What do you mean, prettier one? Obviously it’s the prettier one. I just said I found him pretty.”
Thomas visibly deflates, and Snowbird snaps, “They’re twins! Twins! They look the same!”
“No, no, wait, who’s the prettier one? I need to hear both of your answers.” Seraphim says, intrigue in her voice.
“The purple eyed one, obviously.” Thomas answers, the same time Fluixon says, “The one with yellow eyes.”
They both turn to look at each other, eyebrows raised.
“Before you fight over my brothers!” Snowbird stands up on his feet, evidently noticing a debate about to boil over between the two. “I’ll have you know they’re my brothers!”
“Yes, Snowbird, you told us a million times,” Gotoga snaps, pushing a pizza into the boy’s mouth. “Now can we conspire on what to do about their crushes, or are we changing our names?”
“Mind you, the Conspiracy was a name we decided on when we were children.” He talks, mouth still full of pizza. “And what’s with people shoving things into my mouth today?!”
“I think it’s a sign that you all ought to shut the hell up.” Fluixon hisses. “We’re not conspiring, plotting, crushing—”
“—or doing anything!” He protests.
After all, he’d like to make it very, very clear for everyone here. The clearest it could possibly be. Clearer than the sky on a bright summer day, even. That he’s not crushing on anyone, he’s not plotting on anyone, and he’s most certainly not making any moves on anyone.
After all, Fluixon Aculon likes to pride himself on the fact that he’s an organized, civilized member of society.
He does not pine, does not yearn, does not crush. He has no time for that in his weekly schedules.
“Well, sucks for you,” Hyvrotation huffs, playing on his switch as they loiter outside the cafeteria. “You know you can’t change their minds once it’s set on something.”
What plans has his lovely, accursed group of friends set their minds on, you ask?
“That’s right! Operation make Flux get with Saps in ten steps starts today!” Seraphim claps for Thomas’s theatrics. The traitor. Happily throwing him under the bus to avoid getting run over himself!
“I’d like to say I didn’t agree to this.” Snowbird pipes up, tired.
Fluixon sighs. “Neither did I, dude.”
In hindsight, this was probably the fourth sign that things would go bad for him this school year. Agreeing with Snowbird, that is.