Fanfic: The rhythm of my heart [ZeMyx]
Title: The rhythm of my heart
Pairings: ZexionxDemyx, hints of XemnasxSaïx and XigbarxAxel.
Genre: Angst
Summary: Souls reunited can bring forth miracles with the help of a melody.
Rating: A very, very light R.
Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts, unfortunately. And neither do I own Killing me softly.
A/N: This is a pretty early piece of fanfiction, but it was my first ZeMyx one. Zexion and Demyx have a special place in my heart [OTP ♥].
I just decided to play around with the supposed fact that Nobodies don't have hearts. Sure, I twisted a lot of things and perspectives while writing this, but I got the idea across pretty well. I hope. o3o;
Just dig in.
The rhythm of my heart
I heard he sang a good song,
I heard he had a style.
And so I came to see him and listen for a while.
And there he was, this young boy,
a stranger to my eyes.
A complete stranger.
That was what he told himself when he caught the first glimpse of the mess of dirty blond hair and those long, skillful fingers that ran over the strings of a sitar. Eyes closed in concentration, a calm look on his face, the newest member of Organization XIII sat on the black covers of his bed as a melody floated across the room and to the quiet male in the doorway. The music was soft and smooth, and so familiar.
As familiar as the soul it came from, really.
It took a long while for them to become friends. Zexion had never really been a social being, and held a constant irritation for the likes as Demyx. Noisy and oh-so-cheerful, talkative and persistent, number IX was a true bother when he was present. The broody, short male had always preferred books over people, and the only members he got along with were the silent Lexaeus and the witty Vexen. Demyx would've fit perfectly into Axel's or Xigbar's company - those two had always been too loud for their own good. And they had welcomed Demyx with open arms and wide smiles, as they always did when a new one came around. In the end, it wasn't a matter of their disinterest as it was a cause of Demyx's oblivious state. The sitarist didn't give the other members a minute of his concentration, because if he had, he would've most certainly joined them instead of following Zexion around like a happy dog. Zexion blamed it on the fact that he'd been the first one to find Demyx playing his sitar on the day of his arrival.
Never once did Zexion discuss any serious matters with Demyx. He really didn't discuss anything at all with the man; the nocturne took care of the speaking. It made number VI angry and frustrated, irritated to say at the least. He couldn't concentrate on a book with the flood of questions about what he was reading, he couldn't empty his mind of thoughts and just relax when there was a constant blabbering next to his ear. And even if he ignored Demyx completely and only replied with an occasional sound or two, the blond never gave up or stopped. Day after day, he would knock on Zexion's door in the morning and greet him with a wide smile. Day after day, he would follow in his footsteps until the pale moon glanced through the windows and fell upon the stone floors coldly. With a similar smile, Demyx would then wish his fellow nobody a good night and disappear towards his own room.
Zexion never said anything.
It was only during the darkest moments of the night that he knew Demyx wasn't what he seemed to be. The chords that echoed through the hallways of Castle Oblivion were droplets of melancholy that fell onto his skin. And he knew they were tears, melodic tears of pure sorrow he couldn't quite grasp as a heartless being. That song that sometimes fell over the otherwise quiet castle didn't belong there. It was a story from their past lives, it was a mix of words and tones from what had been but could never exist again. On those nights, every member of the Organization turned in their respective beds, their sleep uncomfortable and disturbing. It was only Zexion who lay wide awake in his bed, listening to every sound that reached his ears.
He knew that song.
Strumming my pain with his fingers,
singing my life with his words.
Killing me softly with his song,
killing me softly with his song.
Telling my whole life with his words,
killing me softly with his song.
They all remembered something from their previous lives, of the somebodies they'd once been. Luxord had his games, Axel had his pyromania and Zexion had his books. He could recall the books he'd read before he'd lost his heart, and even if he wouldn't admit it, that was the reason why he spent so much time in the small library. Whenever he picked up a book he knew he'd read, it would make him feel alive.
That made it less of a surprise when he recalled hearing Demyx's songs before. They brought back images of days in the sun, nights of anxiety - memories that should've been forgotten and left behind. What made him surprised was how reluctant he was to give those memories up once they'd returned to him.
Demyx would play old classics, songs he'd heard millions of times. The blond would pick up his sitar while Zexion read quietly, and when skilled fingers struck the first chord, a shiver would run up the shorter male's spine. He tried to ignore the music at first, then he tried to replace it by concentrating harder on his reading. It was a disturbance, he told himself, a distraction.
But the day came when he put away his book to listen properly to Demyx's playing, and Zexion found himself mesmerized. He'd never known how to play an instrument, and the way those fingers caressed the strings of the sitar was almost magical to him. How could such a simple person create something so beautiful?
It took a good while, even when their moments of music became more frequent, before they realized their affection for one another. Poor Demyx didn't understand it at all, at first - he didn't even fully comprehend why he'd started following Zexion around in the beginning. What he knew was that he'd done so and enjoyed the older man's company greatly. He was comfortable with the situation, and didn't see anything special in it. Not before the dreams occurred.
I felt all flushed with fever,
embarrassed by the crowd.
I felt he found my letters
and read each one out loud.
I prayed that he would finish,
but he just kept right on.
Demyx was the first one to open his eyes one night, breath coming in heavy pants, his whole body still tingling with the memory of ghost fingers upon his skin. He tried to shrug it off, but the persistent dreams returned every night, lasting longer, taking him further. There would be a mix of excitement and fear in Demyx's voice every time he told Zexion goodnight. He didn't know whether to be scared of the moment of sleep, or look forward to it. More and more often he woke up with a moan, every muscle tense under glistening skin, his cheeks flushed brightly. And every night he became more and more certain of whose fingers ran over his body in his dreams.
Zexion took notice of how Demyx's music changed. The high, sad tones deepened into a dark melody of lust and want. The music was a lot rougher and it grew more demanding by the day. It made number VI wander down the hallways of the castle, feeling the urge to knock onto that one door and make the music stop, grasp those narrow wrists and pull them away from the sitar, press them against the mattress and silence any hums with his own lips. It became more than a want as the music developed into a fierce prelude, and when the hunger threatened to eat Zexion's whole being, he finally gave into those reflections of emotions he still held from his previous life.
That night, the moon casted tall shadows onto the floor and Demyx's music was wild and shameless. It was a way of responding to the non-existing touches that filled his dreams. Music ran in the nocturne's veins, but it blended with liquid pleasure, making his tones sultry and thick with want. Fingers running along the smooth surface of his sitar, the blond once again hoped it would've held the warmth of skin instead. It was only a strict knock on the door that interrupted his furious melody, and he was well aware of who it would be.
Zexion was like a tidal wave once Demyx let him in. He grabbed hold of the blonde's arm with a soft growl and yanked him down for a searing kiss without a warning. The demand of his lips was equal to the one in Demyx' song, and nothing needed to be said. Everything was clear the instant their mouths brushed together.
Devouring and consuming, their kisses were harsh and wicked. When Demyx was finally able to feel the touch upon his skin without fearing it would disappear any minute, he melted into Zexion's arms and pressed up against him with need.
And oh, when the first moan fell from Demyx's soft lips. It was so much more than any song the blond had ever sung, that melodic voice turning into a deep choir of pleasure. Zexion forgot everything else the instant it reached his ears.
It was first afterwards, when they lay in each other's arms, spent and content, that Demyx's mirrors of Caribbean sea sought the pools of rain that were Zexion's eyes. When their gazes met, blue and green mending with the grayish hues, Demyx finally realized what Zexion had already known for the longest time. He remembered why he had lost his heart to Zexion before it had been taken away from him.
”It was you, wasn't it? I remember your eyes.”
Strumming my pain with his fingers,
singing my life with his words.
Killing me softly with his song,
killing me softly with his song.
Telling my whole life with his words,
killing me softly with his song.
How could he deny it? Zexion was sure the answer was already written all over his face and evident in his deeds. That affection that had been like an obsession, the burning craving he had once felt for the blond who was no more. He remembered it so clearly, and could almost know what it had been like, he could almost feel it. But in the end, only reflections of old emotions remained in his soulless being. They weren't real, he told himself, not in this moment. They were faded and forgotten and dead. But he couldn't silence his want for those feelings to return.
”Yes, it was me.”
He couldn't recall the amount of times he'd stood among other people, listening to soft chords on the little square that was packed with different booths and shops. In another place, in another time he'd heard a melody sound through the air in a small village; the very same melody that had reached him on cold nights in this castle where life was never present. The music had made him stop, both here and in the distant memory that had once been his life. And oh, how quickly he'd forgotten about the melody when he'd seen the musician. With hair out of golden sunlight, skin like dark sugar and shards of sapphires as his eyes, the young man had been a breathtaking sight with his wooden instrument, sitting on a piece of clothe on the ground. Not many stopped to have a look at the stranger, mostly due to the hat that lay close to his feet, and the few coins in it. People like him weren't liked, not here.
Zexion emptied his pockets into that hat before he walked away, the music following him with a grateful tone.
It quickly became a habit. He would walk across the square, hear the music and halt in his steps. He only stood there for a few minutes at first, but occasionally he would sit down somewhere, let the music hypnotize him as his eyes wandered over to the blond youngster who always smiled, no matter what.
It didn't take long before Demyx started looking back. His eyes would glitter with a hidden grin as he sang, as if it would've been a performance for Zexion, and Zexion only. The songs never mattered, though - it was the moment when everything else disappeared that mattered. That was why they both returned day after day, in sunshine or rain; Demyx to play the same melodies over and over again and Zexion to listen to them like on so many occasions before.
And then he had died.
Zexion's lips curved up into a bittersweet smile - a very rare sight, indeed - as he was confronted with Demyx's terrified expression. Truly, it couldn't be that surprising, could it? They had both faced death and become half beings, mere shadows of what they had once been. Death; it was spoken of in a casual tone in these rooms.
”I thought you were just playing a game with me.”
Zexion's laugh was as harsh as his smile. Oh, he'd played a game, indeed, a game for fools. While he had been oblivious to his own behavior, spending his days close to the charming musician, his father had seen it all too clearly. He had never thought of his father as a brutal man, not before he'd felt violent fingers on his throat.
”I'm sorry I didn't return.”
It could've been the honesty in Zexion's usually so dull eyes, or perhaps the fact that he commonly didn't speak much, at least not in such a meaningful tone. Or maybe it was just the relief after hours of useless waiting and tears shed in the midst of passing people. That night was the first time Zexion saw a nobody cry.
He sang as if he knew me
in all my dark despair.
And then he looked right through me
as if I wasn't there.
But he was there, this stranger,
singing clear and strong.
Zexion knew how some members of the Organization kept themselves warm at night. It wasn't bragged about, it wasn't discussed, but no one asked any questions when Saïx headed for the Superior's room at night when everyone else returned to theirs, or if Axel accompanied Xigbar in the morning when they exited. Yet, when Demyx came to him in the middle of the night, melting onto his skin, he never questioned his motives. They weren't like everyone else, they didn't act like this just for the sake of comfort or pity. Oh no, they were special. And sometimes, when they moved in the night, breaths matched, he could almost feel a beat under his ribs and a heaviness in his chest.
It was a false hope and a deceiving wish, Zexion knew that. Later, when he rested with his back against the sheets, his chest felt as empty as it had for the longest time. But those moments, the seconds of life shared with Demyx, made him yearn for more. He had been rather ignorant of the Organization's true goal, but now it slowly grew in meaning. To have one's heart back, to be able to feel completely, live completely - what would that be like?
So, while he spent his nights together with his beautiful sitarist, his days went by in the library and on short visits to other worlds. A heart couldn't be that hard to find, could it?
Ambitious and stubborn, Zexion refused to give up, even when Marluxia openly laughed at him. Their Organization had grown rapidly in numbers, but even if they were many, they didn't seem to get closer to what they wanted. Day in and day out Xemnas assured them of how magnificent their plan was, of how they would finally gather enough hearts to build Kingdom Hearts. And then, yes, then they would surely get their lives, their complete beings back.
Zexion believed in none of this. They had gotten enemies and met resistance, and were getting nowhere. However, determined to find a heart for both Demyx and himself, Zexion continued his research and studies, not able to give up.
And Demyx was always there. Fingers strumming his sitar, familiar melodies flooding from his lips, they enjoyed the time they had together. Demyx would play the same songs over and over, the songs from that past life on the square, with people all around and a slight breeze against a rosy cheek. Sometimes it was so hard to listen to, making all of Zexion's efforts seem to have been made in vein, but while it was painful, it was also encouraging. It was what they wanted.
The blond never complained, not even when VI sat up late into the night and he fell asleep with his head in his arms, singing only in his dreams. At those times, Zexion would wake his melodious nocturne up with the softest whisper against his ear and lead him back to his room with stars in his eyes.
Strumming my pain with his fingers,
singing my life with his words.
Killing me softly with his song,
killing me softly with his song.
Telling my whole life with his words,
killing me softly with his song.
One night, Zexion thought that was exactly what had happened. He lifted his eyes from his neat, complex notes when he noticed the silence that surrounded the room. No music, no waves of chords that ran through his body like nothing else. But when his eyes reached Demyx, he didn't see the sleeping figure he was expecting to see.
Number IX was sitting in his chair, legs swung over the armrest, arms draped around his knees. The blue sitar lay forgotten on the stone floor and blue eyes had strayed to a window, staring out in deep thought.
Hearing his name being called, Demyx turned his gaze to Zexion, but his expression didn't change. Features lined sternly, his usually luscious, smiling lips were a narrow line and his eyes gave the other nobody a shaky, unsettled look.
“What's wrong?”
It took a good while for Demyx to answer, and when he did, he didn't speak. Rising from where he was seated, the blond took Zexion's hand and lead him out of the library and to his room. Once the door closed with a soft click, a gloved hand came up to brush against Zexion's cheek and soft lips were pressed against his in a slow, deep kiss.
Zexion didn't know where Demyx was trying to get, but he kept himself from asking. When the other man pulled away, it was evident something was truly bothering him; his expression of pure anxiety was almost breathtakingly painful. Almost.
“Do you feel anything?” Came Demyx's question, unexpected and demanding. His eyes were pleading, begging for something Zexion knew he couldn't offer him.
“You know I don't.” He stated quietly, his gray gaze wandering over to the pained eyes in front of him. “Not real feelings, at least. Just the memories-”
“The memories of emotions from our past lives.” Demyx finished with a small sigh. “I know.”
“Then why did you ask?”
Again, Zexion got no real answer. The lips were pressing against his again, demanding and distracting. A hand climbed up to his neck and the schemer wrapped his arms around Demyx's waist, not knowing what else to do. Perhaps this was the musician's way of telling him something.
When Zexion realized what it was that Demyx was trying to show him, it made him speechless. The sitarist laced their fingers together and brought Zexion's hand up to his chest. At first he thought it was just a sign of want, but when his palm was pushed flat against the leather-clad skin and restricted from moving, a doubt crawled into his mind. And then he felt it.
The heartbeat.
It was uneven and quick, slamming against Demyx's ribcage because of their kiss and probably because of pure nervousness, but it was there. It was so much more than those short moments of illusion Zexion had experienced during their lovemaking, so much stronger and greater and alive. And it was real, no doubt it was real.
For the first time in days, he gave his lover a proper look; examined the flush on his cheeks, the redness of his lips, the pure life that was written into every line and curve of Demyx's being. He was surprised to find he hadn't noticed it before. When had this happened? And how, for the sake of all that was good, how?
Demyx's grip on Zexion's hand was rough when he smiled sadly, knowing the nobody had felt the rhythm under his fingertips. There was immense sorrow in those aquamarine eyes, feeling that was only possible for someone with a heart.
“I tried to give it a name.” He whispered in a shaken tone. “For what I thought of you. And the only thing I could come up with was love. But nobodies can't feel love, right?” Cold irony in his voice. Zexion didn't want to hear it like this, he wanted to hear it sing all those songs that were theirs and theirs alone. “I just decided I would love. That I could love. And suddenly, I did.”
Zexion didn't know what to say. His hand against Demyx's chest, eyes expressionless and wide, he stood there. What he had tried to learn and create, Demyx had found from within himself. And he didn't have it. No matter how much Zexion tried to make himself love right there and then, he felt nothing. Nothing else than the steady heartbeat against his palm.
“It's not working for you.” It wasn't a question as much as it was a statement. Demyx averted his eyes and stared at the floor, swallowing. “I didn't know what to say. You've been looking everywhere, doing everything you can, and then I-”
“No.”
His voice was firm, but gentle. Features softening, Zexion reached out and caressed Demyx's neck, bringing the blue eyes back to him. His smile might not have been wide, but it was a smile, and that was more than anyone could demand from the always quiet, moody Zexion.
“You deserve it.”
Strumming my pain with his fingers,
singing my life with his words.
Killing me softly with his song,
killing me softly with his song.
Telling my whole life with his words,
killing me softly with his song.
When Zexion pulled Demyx down for a kiss that was as loving as he could manage, the blond didn't resist or try to speak. His agony over how to speak about the change in him had vanished with the schemer's accepting words, and everything that was left was an immense relief, a lightness in his newly found heart.
“Tell me what it's like.”
The hushed words made Demyx gasp slightly. Zexion's lips were making their way down from his ear to his neck in swift kisses, and it took all of his concentration to keep from groaning instead of speaking.
“Wh-What?”
“How does it feel? With a heart.”
When the line of kisses ended at the joint of his shoulder and neck with a sharp bite, Demyx cried out in sudden pleasure. The sound made a violent shudder run through Zexion's body. There was so much more emotion in it, so much he could almost feel it himself.
When hands gripped at his shoulders and a hot body pressed against his, Zexion muffled a gasp and twisted his lips into a vague smirk.
“It's good, isn't it?” He breathed into Demyx's ear, sucking the soft flesh into his mouth, earning a soft mumble with his actions. “What? I didn't hear you.”
“Perfect.” Demyx moaned out, nails digging into the fabric of Zexion's coat as the musician tried to keep his sanity. “It's perfect.” It was all Zexion needed.
To see Demyx writhe in want, to hear him vocalize his pleasure loudly; to Zexion, it was like feeling it all himself. When blue eyes clouded over with lust, it made him press his lips against the other's that much harder, only to see lust deepen into want. When Demyx pressed a hand to his mouth to silence his moans at the licks on his hips, it made Zexion reach up and hold his hand instead, every sound like a whole new melody of passion. When his nocturne arched up under him, crying out his name, legs wrapped around his waist, it made Zexion push just a tad deeper, cries developing into pure screams. And all the while he could feel Demyx's heartbeat under the thin layer of sweat and skin.
Afterwards, Zexion lay quietly with his head on Demyx's chest for a long time. The rhythmic sound was calming and comforting, and the blond was warm against him. He couldn't understand how he hadn't noticed the lack of body heat before, and reckoned his own body had to be like a corpse against the other's skin. But when he made an attempt to move, Demyx grabbed his wrist and held him in place.
“I want to be close to you.” His words were quiet, his eyes closed. “Stay with me.”
And so, Zexion stayed, fingertips brushing against an elegant neck, drawing small letters and patterns. When his eyes fell upon Demyx in the moonlight, he couldn't help to wonder how much longer the nocturne would stay. He had a heart now and didn't belong here anymore, not here with the lifeless creatures that had no hearts. Demyx could be free now. Live.
It was as if Demyx would've read his thoughts.
“Stay with me and I'll stay with you. Forever.”
In that moment, he wasn't in the place to say hearts didn't live forever. Instead, he closed his eyes and drifted into a dreamless sleep, loving Demyx as much as a nobody could.
When the first rays of a pale sun fell onto Zexion's skin, he bathed in their warmth, enjoying the calmness of the moment. He felt oddly complete, and a slight smile crept up to his face. Hand stretching out, fingers lacing into the empty, cold sheets next to him, it took a while before the total confusion settled itself into the schemer's mind.
Eyes snapped open as he sat up in the bed. The first thing he noticed was how restless the situation made him feel. It was like liquid worry would've ran in his veins. The second thing Zexion registered was that Demyx was gone.
He didn't notice it as much as he felt it. There was a hollow loneliness in the pit of his stomach that told him everything wasn't as it should be. He could feel something was wrong. He could feel it.
And truly, when Zexion shakily placed a hand onto his chest, it tore a pained cry from him to feel the steady beat of a heart under his fingertips.
Before, Zexion had remembered what loss and sadness felt like. He'd been able to recall the pressure they could cause, almost felt the shadow of those emotions from time to time. But the anxiety that took over his whole body after realizing Demyx was gone, and gone for good, was like torture. It took him a whole day to get out of bed, and another until he could leave the blond's room.
While he sat on the unmade bed, surrounded by his musician's familiar scent, Zexion tried to sort his thoughts out and ignore the feelings that were filling his body and mind rapidly. He wasn't used to feeling so much at once, he wasn't used to feeling anything. And many of the feelings that lived in his heart were completely foreign, which only made him admit what he'd suspected - this wasn't his heart. This was Demyx's heart.
“I'll stay with you. Forever.”
It took a long time for Zexion to realize what Demyx had meant. When Xemnas officially announced that Demyx had left for a mission and never returned, and Zexion finally faced the fact that the nocturne wasn't going to come back, he slowly understood the meaning of those last words. Understood how Demyx truly was with him at all times. There were moments when he could swear number IX was present, sitting in his armchair and playing his sitar, singing songs about their past lives. Sometimes those memories hurt enough to make Zexion feel like he was dying, but eventually they became pleasant and the most cherished ones in his heart.
He was given Demyx's sitar. Someone had found it on a mission and brought it back. Zexion took it to Demyx's room at first - he'd left the bed unmade and everything as it had been on the morning he'd woken up to loneliness. After a while, he fetched it back, and took it to his own room. Occasionally Zexion would run his fingers along the long neck of the sitar, imagining Demyx's fingers doing so. Once he tried to play a chord, but ended up with a terrible sound that was broken and pitiful. After that he decided not to do it again. It had been Demyx who had played the sitar, not him. It was his musician's privilege.
And so, the instrument was left resting against one of the white walls. He would glance at it daily, thoughts tracking to the smiling blond with eyes like the sea. And he would recall his words.
“I'll stay with you. Forever.”
Hearts weren't eternal. Hearts didn't last forever, but they were reborn. And Zexion knew, that when he'd drift into the deepest of sleeps one day with Demyx's songs playing in his head, he would surely wake up to a world with a new heart, a new life and a new chance to meet the beautiful, melodious nocturne.
He could just feel it.