KH - Return :: Rewrite: Chapter Two, "Dirty Jokes"
Return :: Rewrite
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Character: Demyx
Genre: Sci-Fi/Romance
Rating: T / PG
Chapters: 2/7
Beta: Dystopian Hope
Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts rights belong to Square Enix and Disney. This piece of fiction is fan-made and as such I am making no monetary profits off of this.
Zexion could hear Demyx's car ambling its way down the block and away from his house long after it had actually gone. Still, it echoed in his head, joined by the sound of the door slamming shut behind him, over and over again. His hand stung from the harsh slap it had administered to Demyx's face, though he gave it no attention as he clutched his bag to himself in shock and his world crashed around his ankles.
Demyx had kissed him… It almost didn't seem real, and he would have thought the entire thing to be a dream- or nightmare- if it weren't for the gentle tingling feeling still present in his lips. Questions Zexion honestly did not want answers to swirled about his head. Why did Demyx kiss me? Does he want to be more than friends? Does he want a relationship? Does he think I'm an easy lay? If he genuinely likes me then what am I going to do now?
The softest shade of canary yellow achievable through paint scowled at Zexion from its place along the walls of his living room, almost as if it were scolding him. 'Why didn't you listen to Xion?' it seemed to ask. 'She's known Demyx longer than you have, and she's not one to accuse without proof!' He braced himself against the front door, almost as if he were trying to prevent some army from entering. The room was a multitude of color, all neon-bright or incredibly soft. Neon bean bag chairs clustered around a family television, every color of the rainbow in order. The television itself was a modest projector connected to a disc-player facing the only white thing in the entire room- a wall untouched by the soft yellow. Taking deep breaths in an attempt at calming himself, the Hybrid moved to collapse into the green chair, staring up at the ceiling in what appeared to be shock. Almost as if they had a mind of their own, his fingers found their way to his lips, tracing along the chapped skin with one sharpened claw where Demyx lips had…
With a hiss, the Hybrid moved his hand away from his face. He stood, then, swaying a bit before planting his feet firmly in the purple carpet. As soon as he regained his balance he raced to the bathroom, a small room with black and white tiles covering nearly every surface, observing himself in the mirror built into the wall along one side. His eyes set about memorizing how blood raced from his bottom lip, trailed down his chin, and dotted the counter. A minute passed, and it seemed as if he were in a different place, mentally, just staring at his reflection as if something would happen. Breathing deep, the Hybrid memorized the rusty scent that permeated the air. It nearly made him sick, but still he took one lungful of foul stench after the other, and he had to stop every few breaths to suppress a gag reflex.
Then, the blood stopped dripping from him and the wound sealed up. Running one hand through the small puddle that had formed on the counter's surface, the boy stared as the fur along his palm soaked the liquid up, taking on a sick shade of purple opposed to its usual bluish-gray. A quick rinse beneath the tap took care of the color on his palm and face, but the smell remained. Stepping from the room, the young Hybrid made his way off towards a set of stairs that ascended into the ceiling in a delicate spiral. He sped up the steps two at a time at a dizzying pace until his shoes connected with the plush, orange carpet of the second floor. Adjusting his bag on his shoulder, the slate-haired boy trailed one hand along a lime-green wall until it collided with a door frame. He grasped the handle and let himself inside, then, reaching into his backpack to remove a small device before launching the bag onto a bed.
Slamming the door shut, he flipped the device open to stare at the blank screen before stepping further into the room. The walls were that same shade of not-quite-neon-blue, bearing down on plain white carpets and plain furniture. All the room held was a standard wooden desk, a plain bed with white covers, and a set of white curtains that seemed to block out all light from the outside world.
Gently lowering himself beside his backpack, Zexion shed his jacket and his shoes before curling up in the covers. "Power on; Lexaeus," he whispered, eyes blank as the screen flickered to life.
"Welcome," the machine announced in a choppy, synthesized tone in a futile attempt to imitate a man's deep voice. "Input command."
"Action; Internet search; keywords: Interface updates." Zexion sighed as the machine announced that it was searching.
"Three hundred fifty-eight updates available- please specify section."
"Action; Sort by compatibility to running system," he stated, running one hand through his hair before idly massaging one cat-like ear.
"Error- no results are compatible with your current running system. Would you like to upgrade?"
Giving a sigh of annoyance, Zexion hissed a quiet, "No. Action: Standby; Run GPS program upon resume." The screen went blank, and Zexion flipped the device closed. He sat in silence, then, fading in and out of consciousness. Without warning, he clenched his eyes shut and whimpered
Across the room, suspiciously near the window, a dull tick sounded. Zexion glanced over before deeming it to be nothing. Then, it sounded again- tick- and again- tick, and then three in quick succession- tick-tick-tick.
Gritting his teeth in annoyance, the Hybrid leaped from his place among the sheets and raced to the window, tearing it open. A sharp wind cut right through him, freezing him to his bones in an instant.
"Would you just cut it out?" he shouted, sending a heated glare at the human fifteen feet below the sill who had been preparing to toss another pebble.
Dropping the small rock, the blond sighed. "I'm sorry, okay?"
"Sorry for what, exactly?" the smaller boy hissed.
Prepared for this, Demyx yelled back, "I'm sorry I kissed you without your permission!"
"Right- whatever," Zexion drawled, moving to close the window.
"Then what should I be apologizing for- that I was hoping you'd maybe kiss me back?"
"Three strikes and you're out," the Hybrid mumbled just loud enough so the other boy could hear him. The blond sighed again before pulling out his camera, snapping a picture of Zexion, and walking away. Zexion blinked, calling after him, "Where do you think you're going?"
"Home," he shouted back.
"I figured that, but why?"
"To save my third strike," Demyx reasoned before leaving the yard completely.
Closing the window in a huff, the Hybrid slipped beneath the plain white sheets of his bed, but not before snagging a copy of Heartless by Ryan Corazza. He lay there for a bit, reading of the main character's travels to the edges of the world catching murderers with the help of his trusty custom-made club, only to shoot up as a familiar tick sounded from the window. He threw them open with a dramatic flare, staring the yard down in a condescending manner. "Ready for that third-" he began, only to trail off into silence. The area below his window that was his backyard was all grass- simply grass. No plants, no lawn furniture, and definitely no blond throwing pebbles. A small sphere of ice fell onto his windowsill, then, and the boy looked at it in shock. It was soon joined by another, then another, and before he knew it the entire back yard was filled with the small white balls. Yet he stood there, still expecting Demyx to round the corner into his yard at any second.
He didn't.
"Don't come back," Zexion whispered maliciously, slamming the window shut. His mother came in a little while later from the convenience store offering him candy mints (they're candy but they're mints, which is just as weird as peppered cake- neither of which appealing to him in the least) and diet soda (a mass-produced oxymoron, in his opinion.) She knew he hated both, but he knew why she was asking- or, rather, why she was telling him at all.
Making his way downstairs, Zexion dialed an all-too-familiar number in a daze. He moved back upstairs, then, cordless phone in hand. The moment someone picked up he snapped, "I'm not going to do it." Closing his bedroom door behind him, he collapsed into his desk chair.
"We're all pulling our weight, Zexion, and until about two seconds ago you were, too. Why the change of heart?" a voice inquired over the connection, slick, dry, high pitched and lowly accented all at the same time. "I hear you've gotten quite attached- even yelled at Xion, am I right?"
"He's my best friend, Larxene, and I won't have you, me, or anyone else toying with him."
"But that's what you're supposed to do," she whined. "Toy with him. That's what's required of you. Don't tell me you want out- no one gets out; not even you," the woman threatened. "You are necessary. Without you there is no Demyx. Without Demyx there is no source. Without a source there is no plan- we'll be in limbo for the rest of our lives!" He could hear the grimace in her voice. "People do stupid things where they're in love, Zexion."
"You would know," he replied calmly, earning a hiss.
"Zexion, we need you to woo him- and from what I've heard this has been long since done! What are you stalling for? Make him yours so we can make him ours!"
"Like Marluxia made you his?" Silence met this. "Tell me this, Larxene- are you happy being a pawn in this game he's playing?"
"We need our knight, Zexion," she stated firmly, ignoring his question. "You are the rook he has given himself to."
"And if this rook doesn't want to capture the knight?" Silence met this comment, then laughter; cruel laughter.
"You make it sound like he captured you!" she laughed. After a few seconds of dark chuckles she cut off abruptly, leaving a chill to race up Zexion's spine. "This better not be the case. If it is then just keep yourself detached and don't fall any further or else." And with that final incomplete threat the Hybrid was met with a dial-tone.
…
Stepping into the over-large foyer, Demyx managed a quiet, "I'm home," as he hung his jacket over one arm.
"Welcome back!" his mother announced from beside him. Startled, he jumped. "How was your day?"
"Okay, I guess," he monotoned, making his way towards the staircase. Taking steps two, sometimes three, at a time he soon found himself in his bedroom. Not bothering to look over his walls, Demyx collapsed into his chair, reveling in the temporary darkness that was his personal space. After about an hour of just sitting in his seat, trading off between biting his lip and clutching his head as if in pain, he looked to his computer. "Arpeggio," he whispered, wincing as the screen came to life and a female's voice soothed over him.
"Harmonious welcomes, Demyx," she greeted, voice light and perfect, uninterrupted by pauses and clicks. "Would you like music or photography, today?" she inquired, bringing up his desktop.
"Photography," he managed after a bit, retrieving his camera from his backpack before plugging it into the port. Arpeggio seemed to hesitate, if that were possible for a program.
"Did today go well?" Demyx blinked. He wasn't used to hearing anything even close emotion from the A.I. All he had gotten before were monotonous responses, but this…
"You'll see," he replied after a bit.
"Oh…" Arpeggio gasped upon upload completion, and the image of Zexion at his window glaring down at Demyx graced the screen. "I see… my condolences."
"Yeah, well, he doesn't have much of a slap, so-"
"He slapped you?" Arpeggio interrupted- something she would have never done before the update. "Does it hurt?"
"No, Peggy- my pride's just a little bruised is all."
"This has nothing to do with pride- you like him, Demyx. You should be hurting right now- emotionally. You should be crying, complaining that life isn't fair- that human sort of thing."
Demyx blinked, giving the screen an odd look after Arpeggio announced this. "What was in that upgrade?"
"Artificial Intelligence data associated with personality and voice box upgrades pertaining to fluidity," she stated calmly. "I sound better, do I not?"
"Yeah- much better- it's just that you're a little more…" Demyx searched for the word.
"Conversational?" the program suggested. "Intuitive?"
"Human," the blond announced. The room went quiet as Arpeggio wiped everything off the screen and pulled up an internet program. "What are you doing?" the boy asked, unsure of why she was going through search engines and pulling up penciled drawings of Anime characters from across the net.
"Just a project," she stated calmly. "Don't worry- I won't catch anything. You updated my protection last month." Demyx gawked, shock overcoming his features.
"Did you just make a sex joke?" he managed after a bit.
"Of course not," the program laughed, mirth evident in her tone. "I'm a computer program."
"A smart one…" the blond grumbled, watching his computer's progress- not that he knew what it was doing. Then, he spotted something behind the browser that caught his attention. "Is that your programming code?"
"As a matter of fact, it is," the program announced quietly. A chime came from the speakers, then, and she sighed. "Well, I'm all done. Changes will take place the next time you turn me on."
"What 'changes,'" Demyx hesitantly inquired, ignoring the innuendo laced with her words. There was laughter from the speakers.
"Restart me and find out!"
Biting his lip, Demyx hesitated slightly before heaving a sigh. "Arpeggio," he whispered.
"Shutting down," the program's accented voice announced as the screen went blank and the room went dark once again.
"Arpeggio," he said, again, as the whirring of the drive came to a halt.
The monitor burst into life, then, and he was greeted with the familiar, "Harmonious welcomes, Demyx." However, the usual setup that was his desktop was joined by a small, anime-like girl nearly the size of his hand. "Do you like my program's new subroutine?" the girl on the screen asked. She had long blond hair reaching her waist with three light-blue clips applied to keep it out of her face. Her sundress' bodice was white, complimenting the skirt which was a deep blue, and a thick yellow line crossed the bottom. Demyx blinked.
"This is a subroutine?" he gasped, barely managing to keep a hold of what was happening. "Looks like a main program."
"A.I. programs are vaster than you seem to recognize, Demyx. This is, indeed, a subroutine. In fact, this is miniscule considering the time, effort, and money those companies doled out to design my latest voice upgrade and barely qualifies as a subroutine. It's more like a micro-routine, at best." The entire time she said this she observed her nails as if what she said didn't really matter, sitting in a bench that literally popped out of nowhere and crossing her legs. "But this way I can interact with you, better." She smiled, then, uncrossing her legs and leaning forward onto her knees. "So- music or photography?"
"Actually," Demyx began, still trying to get over the fact that his computer wrote a subroutine for itself, "I'd like to do an internet search. Is there anything going on tonight in Hollow Bastion?"
She pulled out a laptop- which made Demyx double take a grand total of three times- and his internet browser popped up. It sped through pages at a rate in which he didn't bother keeping track of. A multitude of pages opened up for him to view not a second later, anyways.
"Well, there's not much tonight, but there is a listening party at your favorite record store downtown." She paused for a bit, and when Demyx didn't reply she sighed. "There's also a midnight book signing and book premier with Ryan Corazza at 'Newas Books & Computers.' Sixty percent off his new book for all attendees, though I don't know if it's something you'd-"
"What's the address?" Demyx interrupted.
Silence met his comment. "Are you serious? You hate his books."
"Just give me the address."
"One condition," she smirked, and Demyx found himself starting to regret that upgrade. "While you're there you get a webcam."
…
Racing through the hail, Demyx made his way into Zexion's back yard. The pebbles he would use for getting the Hybrid's attention were clenched tight in his hand, and there was an almost mind-numbing hint of excitement to the event that the blond really didn't understand. It wasn't as if he was sneaking out. His parents knew where he was, he hadn't stolen any cars, and it wasn't a school night. Yet there was some rush that he really didn't comprehend. Taking a deep breath of the frigid midnight- almost, anyways- air, he looked up at the Hybrid's window, aimed, and fired the tiny rock right at the glass- bull's-eye. When there was no response he fired another, then another. He soon ran out of pebbles and Zexion never came to the window.
It was too late to knock on the door. Looking around for some kind of idea, Demyx's eyes rest upon a pipe secured to the side of the house- not one foot away from the boy's window. It ran up to the gutter, all the while offering handholds every two or so feet. Making a split second decision after glancing at his wrist, where a time-tattoo curled ever so delicately and declared it to be 11:32PM, he raced back to his car.
…
The sound of knocking brought Zexion from a sound sleep. He looked around in a panic, searching for the source of the noise in his pitch-black room. Determining it came from the window he turned in his sheets to go back to sleep, but the noise was insistent, refusing to let him go back to sleep. Angered, he leaped from the bed, stomping over to the general direction of his window just as the knocking stopped and a muffled yelp of distress floated through the room. With a groan, Zexion blindly groped through the room until he reached the sill, throwing the curtains aside, only to be graced by the blinding presence of moonlight. He expected Demyx to be down on the ground throwing mittens or something of the like, but instead he found himself face-to-face with the sight of Demyx dangling from his windowsill, a plastic bag barely keeping hold of his arm.
Eyes widening in shock, the Hybrid wrenched the window open before helping the blond through the opening. Once the older boy was fully inside, he launched the nearest book into the boy's unsuspecting cheek, knocking him to the ground just as he got his balance. "Are you an idiot?" he hissed, face dark with anger.
Clutching his face in sheer agony, Demyx somehow managed to pick up the book and read the cover. "Heartless by Ryan Corazza," he read, cackling madly. "Isn't that appropriate- or is it ironic?"
"Ironic?" the boy gasped, looking between the book and the window. "Forget the book- that is a fifteen foot drop you almost fell from!"
"Wow- this really hurts," the boy grimaced, holding the forming bruise, ignoring Zexion all-together at this point.
"I hit you- of course it's going to hurt," the Hybrid growled, trying to keep his voice from a yell. "What would have hurt more was a fall from a window fifteen feet off the ground, you moron!" The blond began to laugh, then, aggravating him to no end. "What's so funny?"
"You just beat my face in with the spine of a book and you're worried about what might have happened?" he gasped, almost in disbelief. "You know, sometimes you're kind of weird."
"I'm weird?" the shorter boy incredulously exclaimed above him. "You just dangled from my windowsill fifteen feet off the ground!"
"Just can't seem to get over that, can you?"
"You could have hurt yourself!"
"Like you didn't?" the blonde gaped, pointing to the now-swelling nearly perfect rectangle of red just below his mouth that stretched a good three inches in the direction of his ear. "This hurts!"
Zexion shrugged, pointing to the book. "It's a hardback."
Looking to the book in shock, Demyx shrugged. "So it is." Giving it a second to sink in, he turned to the younger boy. "Can I file for domestic abuse, now?"
"No, you may not file for domestic abuse- you deserved it! Who wants to wake up to someone dangling from their window fifteen feet off the ground?"
"Let it die, already!"
"I will not just let it die," Zexion hissed, desperately attempting to keep his voice level as his usual flat Baritone hit something along the lines of a Soprano.
"You act like you care."
"I do care."
"If you did then you would tell me flat to my face that you're not interested."
"Interested in what?"
"Me!" The room went excessively quiet at this. A tension passed between the two that was nearly thick enough to be physical, and the air almost seemed as if it was toxic at that moment. Every breath was pure agony for Demyx, as if the very thing keeping him alive were trying to do away with him slowly; painfully. For Zexion it seemed as if the entire world was sitting in his stomach. What did he mean? Why did he kiss me in the car, earlier? What's going on? What does Demyx really want? What am I going to do? So many questions whirled about his head, each another weight in the base of his stomach that dragged him down into nothingness until he couldn't tell what was going on. By the time he came to a pair of lips were on his, and he vaguely remembered something happening to lead up to it.
Demyx standing up; Demyx coming towards him; Demyx sliding one hand delicately along his cheek as if it were something to be treasured; Demyx meeting his eyes in a question; Demyx, whispering his name oh-so-sweetly; Demyx asking him something; Demyx leaning in…
And Zexion did absolutely nothing about any of it.
The blond's lips weren't soft at all- wasn't that bad? Zexion couldn't tell. Soft lips probably wouldn't feel that great; like kissing a pillow (or a fat guy.) But Demyx wasn't a pillow (or a fat guy) and the Hybrid didn't think soft lips suited him. Firm, smooth lips oddly un-chapped from the winter wind seemed to fit him just right. Of course, Zexion didn't claim to know much about kissing, but he didn't think the boy was a bad kisser. And it wasn't as if his hands were wandering; no, the blond's hands didn't stray from their positions at Zexion's shoulders. He wasn't even forcing Zexion into it. Really, he could just pull back and slap him as hard as he wanted to at any time. Though, by the time this occurred to the boy they were already about twenty seconds into it and he really couldn't pull back without a real reason that would convince the older boy that he wasn't just embarrassed or something completely irrelevant like that… or something, and whatever he had to do would simply have to wait.
All he could really think about was that he was supposed to be doing this. It was his job. He wasn't supposed to fall in love with Demyx- the blond was supposed to fall in love with him so they could use him for 'the plan.' All he had to do was stay detached- maybe enjoy himself a little bit along the way.
So he just stayed there, enjoying the feel of Demyx's lips on his during a moment that should have been extremely awkward, allowing his mind to disintegrate into some pile of mush indiscernible from a wad of chewed bubble gum- the original bubble gum and not that fruit flavored stuff they sold between candy-mints (which really didn't make sense to him) and diet sodas (the mass-produced oxymoron of the world.)
But when the tingling feeling started to make his chest feel light, his heart swell, and his blood race through his veins with an excitement he wasn't supposed to feel he pulled away and smacked Demyx across the face. "Ask permission, at least," he hissed.
"I did!" the blond gasped, cupping his face with a groan.
Zexion blinked. Time passed in which he simply watched Demyx cower in place, gasping and flinching at odd intervals and nearly convulsing against the wall for support. Eventually, he had given in and collapsed into Zexion's desk chair, scrunching his eyes shut in an attempt to make his agony any less noticeable. "Oh…" he managed just as Demyx started bobbing his head as if he were one of those bird things with the water glasses. It then occurred to the boy that he had just backhanded Demyx where he'd smacked him none-too-kindly with the spine of a hardback book. "Oops?" he tried, dread sinking deep within his stomach. This earned him a glare and a slew of angry sounds and sputtering. "You can file for domestic abuse, if you want."
Then Demyx was up, the world blurred, and suddenly they were on Zexion's bed, the blond's hands and legs holding him down as he grinned down at the smaller boy. "You can't take it back, now."
"Take what back?" the Hybrid gasped, wriggling in an attempt to get free of the mattress. However, this simply brought a laugh from the taller, heavier, stronger boy pinning him. Freezing under the boy's soft blue gaze, Zexion couldn't do a thing as firm lips descended upon his own once more. This time there was more, though. More passion, more heat, and definitely more tongue. It had slipped between the Hybrid's lips before he could stop it, caressing his own in a way he couldn't help but submit to. It seemed as if forever had passed before Demyx pulled away, and Zexion could just barely keep track of what was going on.
"Agreeing to go out with me," the blond whispered sensually into his ear. An unbidden shiver ran up the Hybrid's spine as the words sunk in. No, he thought. Not yet.
"Wait- what?"
"Domestic abuse is between people in a relationship, Zexion."
"Not always," the smaller boy corrected, still attempting to catch his breath.
"You're enjoying yourself, are you not?" the blond chuckled, glancing down at the evident tent in the front of the smaller boy's pants.
"Get off me, Demyx," he demanded, voice an icy monotone. Demyx hesitated at first, but he got off rather quickly and that was the end of it.
When he left, though, he gave Zexion a few words to think about. "I love you." The words were choked, and before the Hybrid could say anything about them the blond had already left- through the window, oddly enough. He'd climbed right down the piping he'd used to get up to his room.
When Zexion couldn't sleep he found a signed copy of Ryan O'Donohue's Nobodies sitting on his bedside table in the bag Demyx had brought with him. After closing the window and changing his sheets he pulled the book to him. Between the title page and the first page there was a small note in Demyx's handwriting.
If this is strike three I'm good with that.
-Demyx
Grabbing the phone that never made it downstairs, Zexion panicked, dialing that familiar number in a daze. He placed the phone against his ear, then, nearly hyperventilating. "What is it?" Larxene inquired with a yawn after five rings.
"I can't do this," Zexion stated in as even a tone as he could manage, taking deep breaths to get stable. "I tried to remain detached, I really did, but-"
"So the knight has captured our rook- I thought this might happen," she sighed. There was shuffling, then a little muttering, in the background. Then a hollow clack followed by a sharp ding that could only described as the sound an old-fashioned winding alarm clock would make when jostled. "Zexion, I'm going to ask you to do something that you probably won't like," she warned him, heaving a large yawn. He could hear the sound of rustling covers in the background- she had been asleep. "I'm asking you to ignore us for a bit. Pretend the Organization doesn't exist. I'll have a word with your dad and Marluxia so we can get someone else low-profile to deliver the Mako. In the meantime, I want you to do some homework on Demyx. I'd tell you myself right now but then Demyx would get suspicious."
"What is it?"
"Talk to Xion," the woman advised. "Ask her what happened to make the Hybrids hate Demyx so much. When she tells you it's not her story to tell, which she will, just say that Roxas says otherwise. I'll call him tonight."
"Who's Roxas?"
The woman heaved a sigh. "Doesn't matter- just do what I say," she spat. There was a pause before she simply stated, "Talk to her," and hung up.
…
"You're looking a bit worse for wear," was the first thing Arpeggio had to say as Demyx faced the web cam with a grimace. "At least you got to kiss him."
"Leave it to you to find that little detail," Demyx groaned, adjusting the pack of ice against his cheek with a wince. "I go to apologize in a way I know he won't give me a strike and I get a sound beating, instead!"
"Looks like it's swelling," she commented with a chuckle. "He's got a good backhand, but it can't touch his literacy." The boy mock-laughed, reaching for the bruise-creme on the desk beside Arpeggio's monitor as her digital-self rolled her eyes. Dabbing a bit onto the purplish-blue skin, he watched through the video on the screen that fed from his web cam as the colorization stabilized and the swelling started to go down. "Feeling better?"
"Much, thank you," Demyx mused, gracing the computer with a smile. "Well, today's Sunday so that means 'black marker' day!"
"True- and this time I get to see you do it!" Arpeggio announced with joy.
Tugging one of the drawers of his desk open, Demyx pulled out a black marker. "It's not as fun as you seem to think it is," he announced, standing up to pull back the curtain of the third wall, once more revealing a wall that was covered entirely with pictures from the tips of the carpet all the way up to the vaulted ceiling fifteen feet up. Snagging a ladder he'd placed on the floor in front of the door when he first got home, he set it up before the wall. It reached nearly to the ceiling, standing freely so that it didn't damage any of the pictures. Making his way up the ladder, Demyx looked closely at each and every photo he passed.
There was Hayner at a struggle match, fighting against Pence- both were smiling, and both were crossed out. Pence had actually won that one, Demyx thought fondly. Continuing up the steps, he found himself before pictures of him, but slightly younger, with Hayner, Pence, and Olette. Some were group photos, some were individual. In every group photo his own face was crossed out instead of his old friends'. However, he hadn't reached a spot where nothing was crossed out, yet, so he knew he had a while to go. And then there was Xion and he knew he had to stop because where those photos ended was where the ceiling began.
Pictures of him and Xion filled the entirety of the top of the wall, as if they were all that existed in that time. There were pictures of her laughing- lots of pictures of her laughing. Sometimes they had ice cream- sea-salt, he remembered. Some of the photos were blurred- the only blurry images in the entire room, he knew. Some of them were focused on her, and some on him. There were grins, silly faces, and scrapes and bruises. Images showed them hugging, kissing, touching. A few showed them in rain coats, in winter coats, in light jackets, without jackets, without clothes…
None of those pictures were crossed out, and he knew he had reached the end of his 'black marker' days.
And there she was- standing beside Kairi and looking so much like her sister; the moment it had really sunk in.
Demyx's grip on the pen loosened and his heart fell with it to land noiselessly on the carpet.
"Demyx, are you alright?" he vaguely heard Arpeggio call from below. He didn't answer, though. He couldn't- not when his mistake stared him straight in the eye.
"I never should have done that" he professed around the lump in his throat after what seemed like an eternity. Ignoring the tears leaking from his eyes, he continued to look over the photos. "Not like that."
Quiz: What are the origins of “Vincent O'Donohue” and “Ryan Corazza?”
Chapter 3
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Character: Demyx
Genre: Sci-Fi/Romance
Rating: T / PG
Chapters: 2/7
Beta: Dystopian Hope
Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts rights belong to Square Enix and Disney. This piece of fiction is fan-made and as such I am making no monetary profits off of this.
Zexion could hear Demyx's car ambling its way down the block and away from his house long after it had actually gone. Still, it echoed in his head, joined by the sound of the door slamming shut behind him, over and over again. His hand stung from the harsh slap it had administered to Demyx's face, though he gave it no attention as he clutched his bag to himself in shock and his world crashed around his ankles.
Demyx had kissed him… It almost didn't seem real, and he would have thought the entire thing to be a dream- or nightmare- if it weren't for the gentle tingling feeling still present in his lips. Questions Zexion honestly did not want answers to swirled about his head. Why did Demyx kiss me? Does he want to be more than friends? Does he want a relationship? Does he think I'm an easy lay? If he genuinely likes me then what am I going to do now?
The softest shade of canary yellow achievable through paint scowled at Zexion from its place along the walls of his living room, almost as if it were scolding him. 'Why didn't you listen to Xion?' it seemed to ask. 'She's known Demyx longer than you have, and she's not one to accuse without proof!' He braced himself against the front door, almost as if he were trying to prevent some army from entering. The room was a multitude of color, all neon-bright or incredibly soft. Neon bean bag chairs clustered around a family television, every color of the rainbow in order. The television itself was a modest projector connected to a disc-player facing the only white thing in the entire room- a wall untouched by the soft yellow. Taking deep breaths in an attempt at calming himself, the Hybrid moved to collapse into the green chair, staring up at the ceiling in what appeared to be shock. Almost as if they had a mind of their own, his fingers found their way to his lips, tracing along the chapped skin with one sharpened claw where Demyx lips had…
With a hiss, the Hybrid moved his hand away from his face. He stood, then, swaying a bit before planting his feet firmly in the purple carpet. As soon as he regained his balance he raced to the bathroom, a small room with black and white tiles covering nearly every surface, observing himself in the mirror built into the wall along one side. His eyes set about memorizing how blood raced from his bottom lip, trailed down his chin, and dotted the counter. A minute passed, and it seemed as if he were in a different place, mentally, just staring at his reflection as if something would happen. Breathing deep, the Hybrid memorized the rusty scent that permeated the air. It nearly made him sick, but still he took one lungful of foul stench after the other, and he had to stop every few breaths to suppress a gag reflex.
Then, the blood stopped dripping from him and the wound sealed up. Running one hand through the small puddle that had formed on the counter's surface, the boy stared as the fur along his palm soaked the liquid up, taking on a sick shade of purple opposed to its usual bluish-gray. A quick rinse beneath the tap took care of the color on his palm and face, but the smell remained. Stepping from the room, the young Hybrid made his way off towards a set of stairs that ascended into the ceiling in a delicate spiral. He sped up the steps two at a time at a dizzying pace until his shoes connected with the plush, orange carpet of the second floor. Adjusting his bag on his shoulder, the slate-haired boy trailed one hand along a lime-green wall until it collided with a door frame. He grasped the handle and let himself inside, then, reaching into his backpack to remove a small device before launching the bag onto a bed.
Slamming the door shut, he flipped the device open to stare at the blank screen before stepping further into the room. The walls were that same shade of not-quite-neon-blue, bearing down on plain white carpets and plain furniture. All the room held was a standard wooden desk, a plain bed with white covers, and a set of white curtains that seemed to block out all light from the outside world.
Gently lowering himself beside his backpack, Zexion shed his jacket and his shoes before curling up in the covers. "Power on; Lexaeus," he whispered, eyes blank as the screen flickered to life.
"Welcome," the machine announced in a choppy, synthesized tone in a futile attempt to imitate a man's deep voice. "Input command."
"Action; Internet search; keywords: Interface updates." Zexion sighed as the machine announced that it was searching.
"Three hundred fifty-eight updates available- please specify section."
"Action; Sort by compatibility to running system," he stated, running one hand through his hair before idly massaging one cat-like ear.
"Error- no results are compatible with your current running system. Would you like to upgrade?"
Giving a sigh of annoyance, Zexion hissed a quiet, "No. Action: Standby; Run GPS program upon resume." The screen went blank, and Zexion flipped the device closed. He sat in silence, then, fading in and out of consciousness. Without warning, he clenched his eyes shut and whimpered
Across the room, suspiciously near the window, a dull tick sounded. Zexion glanced over before deeming it to be nothing. Then, it sounded again- tick- and again- tick, and then three in quick succession- tick-tick-tick.
Gritting his teeth in annoyance, the Hybrid leaped from his place among the sheets and raced to the window, tearing it open. A sharp wind cut right through him, freezing him to his bones in an instant.
"Would you just cut it out?" he shouted, sending a heated glare at the human fifteen feet below the sill who had been preparing to toss another pebble.
Dropping the small rock, the blond sighed. "I'm sorry, okay?"
"Sorry for what, exactly?" the smaller boy hissed.
Prepared for this, Demyx yelled back, "I'm sorry I kissed you without your permission!"
"Right- whatever," Zexion drawled, moving to close the window.
"Then what should I be apologizing for- that I was hoping you'd maybe kiss me back?"
"Three strikes and you're out," the Hybrid mumbled just loud enough so the other boy could hear him. The blond sighed again before pulling out his camera, snapping a picture of Zexion, and walking away. Zexion blinked, calling after him, "Where do you think you're going?"
"Home," he shouted back.
"I figured that, but why?"
"To save my third strike," Demyx reasoned before leaving the yard completely.
Closing the window in a huff, the Hybrid slipped beneath the plain white sheets of his bed, but not before snagging a copy of Heartless by Ryan Corazza. He lay there for a bit, reading of the main character's travels to the edges of the world catching murderers with the help of his trusty custom-made club, only to shoot up as a familiar tick sounded from the window. He threw them open with a dramatic flare, staring the yard down in a condescending manner. "Ready for that third-" he began, only to trail off into silence. The area below his window that was his backyard was all grass- simply grass. No plants, no lawn furniture, and definitely no blond throwing pebbles. A small sphere of ice fell onto his windowsill, then, and the boy looked at it in shock. It was soon joined by another, then another, and before he knew it the entire back yard was filled with the small white balls. Yet he stood there, still expecting Demyx to round the corner into his yard at any second.
He didn't.
"Don't come back," Zexion whispered maliciously, slamming the window shut. His mother came in a little while later from the convenience store offering him candy mints (they're candy but they're mints, which is just as weird as peppered cake- neither of which appealing to him in the least) and diet soda (a mass-produced oxymoron, in his opinion.) She knew he hated both, but he knew why she was asking- or, rather, why she was telling him at all.
Making his way downstairs, Zexion dialed an all-too-familiar number in a daze. He moved back upstairs, then, cordless phone in hand. The moment someone picked up he snapped, "I'm not going to do it." Closing his bedroom door behind him, he collapsed into his desk chair.
"We're all pulling our weight, Zexion, and until about two seconds ago you were, too. Why the change of heart?" a voice inquired over the connection, slick, dry, high pitched and lowly accented all at the same time. "I hear you've gotten quite attached- even yelled at Xion, am I right?"
"He's my best friend, Larxene, and I won't have you, me, or anyone else toying with him."
"But that's what you're supposed to do," she whined. "Toy with him. That's what's required of you. Don't tell me you want out- no one gets out; not even you," the woman threatened. "You are necessary. Without you there is no Demyx. Without Demyx there is no source. Without a source there is no plan- we'll be in limbo for the rest of our lives!" He could hear the grimace in her voice. "People do stupid things where they're in love, Zexion."
"You would know," he replied calmly, earning a hiss.
"Zexion, we need you to woo him- and from what I've heard this has been long since done! What are you stalling for? Make him yours so we can make him ours!"
"Like Marluxia made you his?" Silence met this. "Tell me this, Larxene- are you happy being a pawn in this game he's playing?"
"We need our knight, Zexion," she stated firmly, ignoring his question. "You are the rook he has given himself to."
"And if this rook doesn't want to capture the knight?" Silence met this comment, then laughter; cruel laughter.
"You make it sound like he captured you!" she laughed. After a few seconds of dark chuckles she cut off abruptly, leaving a chill to race up Zexion's spine. "This better not be the case. If it is then just keep yourself detached and don't fall any further or else." And with that final incomplete threat the Hybrid was met with a dial-tone.
…
Stepping into the over-large foyer, Demyx managed a quiet, "I'm home," as he hung his jacket over one arm.
"Welcome back!" his mother announced from beside him. Startled, he jumped. "How was your day?"
"Okay, I guess," he monotoned, making his way towards the staircase. Taking steps two, sometimes three, at a time he soon found himself in his bedroom. Not bothering to look over his walls, Demyx collapsed into his chair, reveling in the temporary darkness that was his personal space. After about an hour of just sitting in his seat, trading off between biting his lip and clutching his head as if in pain, he looked to his computer. "Arpeggio," he whispered, wincing as the screen came to life and a female's voice soothed over him.
"Harmonious welcomes, Demyx," she greeted, voice light and perfect, uninterrupted by pauses and clicks. "Would you like music or photography, today?" she inquired, bringing up his desktop.
"Photography," he managed after a bit, retrieving his camera from his backpack before plugging it into the port. Arpeggio seemed to hesitate, if that were possible for a program.
"Did today go well?" Demyx blinked. He wasn't used to hearing anything even close emotion from the A.I. All he had gotten before were monotonous responses, but this…
"You'll see," he replied after a bit.
"Oh…" Arpeggio gasped upon upload completion, and the image of Zexion at his window glaring down at Demyx graced the screen. "I see… my condolences."
"Yeah, well, he doesn't have much of a slap, so-"
"He slapped you?" Arpeggio interrupted- something she would have never done before the update. "Does it hurt?"
"No, Peggy- my pride's just a little bruised is all."
"This has nothing to do with pride- you like him, Demyx. You should be hurting right now- emotionally. You should be crying, complaining that life isn't fair- that human sort of thing."
Demyx blinked, giving the screen an odd look after Arpeggio announced this. "What was in that upgrade?"
"Artificial Intelligence data associated with personality and voice box upgrades pertaining to fluidity," she stated calmly. "I sound better, do I not?"
"Yeah- much better- it's just that you're a little more…" Demyx searched for the word.
"Conversational?" the program suggested. "Intuitive?"
"Human," the blond announced. The room went quiet as Arpeggio wiped everything off the screen and pulled up an internet program. "What are you doing?" the boy asked, unsure of why she was going through search engines and pulling up penciled drawings of Anime characters from across the net.
"Just a project," she stated calmly. "Don't worry- I won't catch anything. You updated my protection last month." Demyx gawked, shock overcoming his features.
"Did you just make a sex joke?" he managed after a bit.
"Of course not," the program laughed, mirth evident in her tone. "I'm a computer program."
"A smart one…" the blond grumbled, watching his computer's progress- not that he knew what it was doing. Then, he spotted something behind the browser that caught his attention. "Is that your programming code?"
"As a matter of fact, it is," the program announced quietly. A chime came from the speakers, then, and she sighed. "Well, I'm all done. Changes will take place the next time you turn me on."
"What 'changes,'" Demyx hesitantly inquired, ignoring the innuendo laced with her words. There was laughter from the speakers.
"Restart me and find out!"
Biting his lip, Demyx hesitated slightly before heaving a sigh. "Arpeggio," he whispered.
"Shutting down," the program's accented voice announced as the screen went blank and the room went dark once again.
"Arpeggio," he said, again, as the whirring of the drive came to a halt.
The monitor burst into life, then, and he was greeted with the familiar, "Harmonious welcomes, Demyx." However, the usual setup that was his desktop was joined by a small, anime-like girl nearly the size of his hand. "Do you like my program's new subroutine?" the girl on the screen asked. She had long blond hair reaching her waist with three light-blue clips applied to keep it out of her face. Her sundress' bodice was white, complimenting the skirt which was a deep blue, and a thick yellow line crossed the bottom. Demyx blinked.
"This is a subroutine?" he gasped, barely managing to keep a hold of what was happening. "Looks like a main program."
"A.I. programs are vaster than you seem to recognize, Demyx. This is, indeed, a subroutine. In fact, this is miniscule considering the time, effort, and money those companies doled out to design my latest voice upgrade and barely qualifies as a subroutine. It's more like a micro-routine, at best." The entire time she said this she observed her nails as if what she said didn't really matter, sitting in a bench that literally popped out of nowhere and crossing her legs. "But this way I can interact with you, better." She smiled, then, uncrossing her legs and leaning forward onto her knees. "So- music or photography?"
"Actually," Demyx began, still trying to get over the fact that his computer wrote a subroutine for itself, "I'd like to do an internet search. Is there anything going on tonight in Hollow Bastion?"
She pulled out a laptop- which made Demyx double take a grand total of three times- and his internet browser popped up. It sped through pages at a rate in which he didn't bother keeping track of. A multitude of pages opened up for him to view not a second later, anyways.
"Well, there's not much tonight, but there is a listening party at your favorite record store downtown." She paused for a bit, and when Demyx didn't reply she sighed. "There's also a midnight book signing and book premier with Ryan Corazza at 'Newas Books & Computers.' Sixty percent off his new book for all attendees, though I don't know if it's something you'd-"
"What's the address?" Demyx interrupted.
Silence met his comment. "Are you serious? You hate his books."
"Just give me the address."
"One condition," she smirked, and Demyx found himself starting to regret that upgrade. "While you're there you get a webcam."
…
Racing through the hail, Demyx made his way into Zexion's back yard. The pebbles he would use for getting the Hybrid's attention were clenched tight in his hand, and there was an almost mind-numbing hint of excitement to the event that the blond really didn't understand. It wasn't as if he was sneaking out. His parents knew where he was, he hadn't stolen any cars, and it wasn't a school night. Yet there was some rush that he really didn't comprehend. Taking a deep breath of the frigid midnight- almost, anyways- air, he looked up at the Hybrid's window, aimed, and fired the tiny rock right at the glass- bull's-eye. When there was no response he fired another, then another. He soon ran out of pebbles and Zexion never came to the window.
It was too late to knock on the door. Looking around for some kind of idea, Demyx's eyes rest upon a pipe secured to the side of the house- not one foot away from the boy's window. It ran up to the gutter, all the while offering handholds every two or so feet. Making a split second decision after glancing at his wrist, where a time-tattoo curled ever so delicately and declared it to be 11:32PM, he raced back to his car.
…
The sound of knocking brought Zexion from a sound sleep. He looked around in a panic, searching for the source of the noise in his pitch-black room. Determining it came from the window he turned in his sheets to go back to sleep, but the noise was insistent, refusing to let him go back to sleep. Angered, he leaped from the bed, stomping over to the general direction of his window just as the knocking stopped and a muffled yelp of distress floated through the room. With a groan, Zexion blindly groped through the room until he reached the sill, throwing the curtains aside, only to be graced by the blinding presence of moonlight. He expected Demyx to be down on the ground throwing mittens or something of the like, but instead he found himself face-to-face with the sight of Demyx dangling from his windowsill, a plastic bag barely keeping hold of his arm.
Eyes widening in shock, the Hybrid wrenched the window open before helping the blond through the opening. Once the older boy was fully inside, he launched the nearest book into the boy's unsuspecting cheek, knocking him to the ground just as he got his balance. "Are you an idiot?" he hissed, face dark with anger.
Clutching his face in sheer agony, Demyx somehow managed to pick up the book and read the cover. "Heartless by Ryan Corazza," he read, cackling madly. "Isn't that appropriate- or is it ironic?"
"Ironic?" the boy gasped, looking between the book and the window. "Forget the book- that is a fifteen foot drop you almost fell from!"
"Wow- this really hurts," the boy grimaced, holding the forming bruise, ignoring Zexion all-together at this point.
"I hit you- of course it's going to hurt," the Hybrid growled, trying to keep his voice from a yell. "What would have hurt more was a fall from a window fifteen feet off the ground, you moron!" The blond began to laugh, then, aggravating him to no end. "What's so funny?"
"You just beat my face in with the spine of a book and you're worried about what might have happened?" he gasped, almost in disbelief. "You know, sometimes you're kind of weird."
"I'm weird?" the shorter boy incredulously exclaimed above him. "You just dangled from my windowsill fifteen feet off the ground!"
"Just can't seem to get over that, can you?"
"You could have hurt yourself!"
"Like you didn't?" the blonde gaped, pointing to the now-swelling nearly perfect rectangle of red just below his mouth that stretched a good three inches in the direction of his ear. "This hurts!"
Zexion shrugged, pointing to the book. "It's a hardback."
Looking to the book in shock, Demyx shrugged. "So it is." Giving it a second to sink in, he turned to the younger boy. "Can I file for domestic abuse, now?"
"No, you may not file for domestic abuse- you deserved it! Who wants to wake up to someone dangling from their window fifteen feet off the ground?"
"Let it die, already!"
"I will not just let it die," Zexion hissed, desperately attempting to keep his voice level as his usual flat Baritone hit something along the lines of a Soprano.
"You act like you care."
"I do care."
"If you did then you would tell me flat to my face that you're not interested."
"Interested in what?"
"Me!" The room went excessively quiet at this. A tension passed between the two that was nearly thick enough to be physical, and the air almost seemed as if it was toxic at that moment. Every breath was pure agony for Demyx, as if the very thing keeping him alive were trying to do away with him slowly; painfully. For Zexion it seemed as if the entire world was sitting in his stomach. What did he mean? Why did he kiss me in the car, earlier? What's going on? What does Demyx really want? What am I going to do? So many questions whirled about his head, each another weight in the base of his stomach that dragged him down into nothingness until he couldn't tell what was going on. By the time he came to a pair of lips were on his, and he vaguely remembered something happening to lead up to it.
Demyx standing up; Demyx coming towards him; Demyx sliding one hand delicately along his cheek as if it were something to be treasured; Demyx meeting his eyes in a question; Demyx, whispering his name oh-so-sweetly; Demyx asking him something; Demyx leaning in…
And Zexion did absolutely nothing about any of it.
The blond's lips weren't soft at all- wasn't that bad? Zexion couldn't tell. Soft lips probably wouldn't feel that great; like kissing a pillow (or a fat guy.) But Demyx wasn't a pillow (or a fat guy) and the Hybrid didn't think soft lips suited him. Firm, smooth lips oddly un-chapped from the winter wind seemed to fit him just right. Of course, Zexion didn't claim to know much about kissing, but he didn't think the boy was a bad kisser. And it wasn't as if his hands were wandering; no, the blond's hands didn't stray from their positions at Zexion's shoulders. He wasn't even forcing Zexion into it. Really, he could just pull back and slap him as hard as he wanted to at any time. Though, by the time this occurred to the boy they were already about twenty seconds into it and he really couldn't pull back without a real reason that would convince the older boy that he wasn't just embarrassed or something completely irrelevant like that… or something, and whatever he had to do would simply have to wait.
All he could really think about was that he was supposed to be doing this. It was his job. He wasn't supposed to fall in love with Demyx- the blond was supposed to fall in love with him so they could use him for 'the plan.' All he had to do was stay detached- maybe enjoy himself a little bit along the way.
So he just stayed there, enjoying the feel of Demyx's lips on his during a moment that should have been extremely awkward, allowing his mind to disintegrate into some pile of mush indiscernible from a wad of chewed bubble gum- the original bubble gum and not that fruit flavored stuff they sold between candy-mints (which really didn't make sense to him) and diet sodas (the mass-produced oxymoron of the world.)
But when the tingling feeling started to make his chest feel light, his heart swell, and his blood race through his veins with an excitement he wasn't supposed to feel he pulled away and smacked Demyx across the face. "Ask permission, at least," he hissed.
"I did!" the blond gasped, cupping his face with a groan.
Zexion blinked. Time passed in which he simply watched Demyx cower in place, gasping and flinching at odd intervals and nearly convulsing against the wall for support. Eventually, he had given in and collapsed into Zexion's desk chair, scrunching his eyes shut in an attempt to make his agony any less noticeable. "Oh…" he managed just as Demyx started bobbing his head as if he were one of those bird things with the water glasses. It then occurred to the boy that he had just backhanded Demyx where he'd smacked him none-too-kindly with the spine of a hardback book. "Oops?" he tried, dread sinking deep within his stomach. This earned him a glare and a slew of angry sounds and sputtering. "You can file for domestic abuse, if you want."
Then Demyx was up, the world blurred, and suddenly they were on Zexion's bed, the blond's hands and legs holding him down as he grinned down at the smaller boy. "You can't take it back, now."
"Take what back?" the Hybrid gasped, wriggling in an attempt to get free of the mattress. However, this simply brought a laugh from the taller, heavier, stronger boy pinning him. Freezing under the boy's soft blue gaze, Zexion couldn't do a thing as firm lips descended upon his own once more. This time there was more, though. More passion, more heat, and definitely more tongue. It had slipped between the Hybrid's lips before he could stop it, caressing his own in a way he couldn't help but submit to. It seemed as if forever had passed before Demyx pulled away, and Zexion could just barely keep track of what was going on.
"Agreeing to go out with me," the blond whispered sensually into his ear. An unbidden shiver ran up the Hybrid's spine as the words sunk in. No, he thought. Not yet.
"Wait- what?"
"Domestic abuse is between people in a relationship, Zexion."
"Not always," the smaller boy corrected, still attempting to catch his breath.
"You're enjoying yourself, are you not?" the blond chuckled, glancing down at the evident tent in the front of the smaller boy's pants.
"Get off me, Demyx," he demanded, voice an icy monotone. Demyx hesitated at first, but he got off rather quickly and that was the end of it.
When he left, though, he gave Zexion a few words to think about. "I love you." The words were choked, and before the Hybrid could say anything about them the blond had already left- through the window, oddly enough. He'd climbed right down the piping he'd used to get up to his room.
When Zexion couldn't sleep he found a signed copy of Ryan O'Donohue's Nobodies sitting on his bedside table in the bag Demyx had brought with him. After closing the window and changing his sheets he pulled the book to him. Between the title page and the first page there was a small note in Demyx's handwriting.
If this is strike three I'm good with that.
-Demyx
Grabbing the phone that never made it downstairs, Zexion panicked, dialing that familiar number in a daze. He placed the phone against his ear, then, nearly hyperventilating. "What is it?" Larxene inquired with a yawn after five rings.
"I can't do this," Zexion stated in as even a tone as he could manage, taking deep breaths to get stable. "I tried to remain detached, I really did, but-"
"So the knight has captured our rook- I thought this might happen," she sighed. There was shuffling, then a little muttering, in the background. Then a hollow clack followed by a sharp ding that could only described as the sound an old-fashioned winding alarm clock would make when jostled. "Zexion, I'm going to ask you to do something that you probably won't like," she warned him, heaving a large yawn. He could hear the sound of rustling covers in the background- she had been asleep. "I'm asking you to ignore us for a bit. Pretend the Organization doesn't exist. I'll have a word with your dad and Marluxia so we can get someone else low-profile to deliver the Mako. In the meantime, I want you to do some homework on Demyx. I'd tell you myself right now but then Demyx would get suspicious."
"What is it?"
"Talk to Xion," the woman advised. "Ask her what happened to make the Hybrids hate Demyx so much. When she tells you it's not her story to tell, which she will, just say that Roxas says otherwise. I'll call him tonight."
"Who's Roxas?"
The woman heaved a sigh. "Doesn't matter- just do what I say," she spat. There was a pause before she simply stated, "Talk to her," and hung up.
…
"You're looking a bit worse for wear," was the first thing Arpeggio had to say as Demyx faced the web cam with a grimace. "At least you got to kiss him."
"Leave it to you to find that little detail," Demyx groaned, adjusting the pack of ice against his cheek with a wince. "I go to apologize in a way I know he won't give me a strike and I get a sound beating, instead!"
"Looks like it's swelling," she commented with a chuckle. "He's got a good backhand, but it can't touch his literacy." The boy mock-laughed, reaching for the bruise-creme on the desk beside Arpeggio's monitor as her digital-self rolled her eyes. Dabbing a bit onto the purplish-blue skin, he watched through the video on the screen that fed from his web cam as the colorization stabilized and the swelling started to go down. "Feeling better?"
"Much, thank you," Demyx mused, gracing the computer with a smile. "Well, today's Sunday so that means 'black marker' day!"
"True- and this time I get to see you do it!" Arpeggio announced with joy.
Tugging one of the drawers of his desk open, Demyx pulled out a black marker. "It's not as fun as you seem to think it is," he announced, standing up to pull back the curtain of the third wall, once more revealing a wall that was covered entirely with pictures from the tips of the carpet all the way up to the vaulted ceiling fifteen feet up. Snagging a ladder he'd placed on the floor in front of the door when he first got home, he set it up before the wall. It reached nearly to the ceiling, standing freely so that it didn't damage any of the pictures. Making his way up the ladder, Demyx looked closely at each and every photo he passed.
There was Hayner at a struggle match, fighting against Pence- both were smiling, and both were crossed out. Pence had actually won that one, Demyx thought fondly. Continuing up the steps, he found himself before pictures of him, but slightly younger, with Hayner, Pence, and Olette. Some were group photos, some were individual. In every group photo his own face was crossed out instead of his old friends'. However, he hadn't reached a spot where nothing was crossed out, yet, so he knew he had a while to go. And then there was Xion and he knew he had to stop because where those photos ended was where the ceiling began.
Pictures of him and Xion filled the entirety of the top of the wall, as if they were all that existed in that time. There were pictures of her laughing- lots of pictures of her laughing. Sometimes they had ice cream- sea-salt, he remembered. Some of the photos were blurred- the only blurry images in the entire room, he knew. Some of them were focused on her, and some on him. There were grins, silly faces, and scrapes and bruises. Images showed them hugging, kissing, touching. A few showed them in rain coats, in winter coats, in light jackets, without jackets, without clothes…
None of those pictures were crossed out, and he knew he had reached the end of his 'black marker' days.
And there she was- standing beside Kairi and looking so much like her sister; the moment it had really sunk in.
Demyx's grip on the pen loosened and his heart fell with it to land noiselessly on the carpet.
"Demyx, are you alright?" he vaguely heard Arpeggio call from below. He didn't answer, though. He couldn't- not when his mistake stared him straight in the eye.
"I never should have done that" he professed around the lump in his throat after what seemed like an eternity. Ignoring the tears leaking from his eyes, he continued to look over the photos. "Not like that."
Quiz: What are the origins of “Vincent O'Donohue” and “Ryan Corazza?”
Chapter 3