KH - Return :: Rewrite Chapter Four, “Mission Complete?”
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Character: Demyx
Genre: Sci-Fi/Romance
Rating: T / PG-13
Chapters: 4/7
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.
It was a small red house: neat, orderly, and surrounded with enough flowers to crowd a funeral. A white picket fence divided it from the world in an almost surreal sense that cemented any ideas of people inside to be a normal, happy family of three or four living everyday lives that would be seen as normal from any standard. Within, however, was a group of people shouting, cheering, and all around having a good, loud time. Red plastic cups were being passed around with abandon, and place reeked of alcohol. Somewhere in the living room someone turned the television up as wreckage was displayed on screen. "Early yesterday morning, at around 12:15AM, an unidentified group bombed the car of the Hybrid Committee Head Chairman, Ansem Wisen, fleeing the scene before officials could react to the mayhem. There is, so far, no evidence as to the group's orientation, should it be terrorist or rebel. Mr. Wisen states-" Boos went up as a man with long blond hair, sharp red eyes, and a regal bearing was shown onscreen, drowning out the rest of the report.
Zexion looked upon the spectacle with glee as a man stood up before the screen. Everyone went quiet, and someone muted the television. The man grinned, though it turned into something more of a twisted sneer.
"To Marluxia!" someone called, soon joined by other calls of the man's name. It soon rose to nothing more than a roar before the man raised a hand to silence the audience. The living room was packed as it was, but even more people filled in from the kitchen until it was standing room only. An instant peace fell over the people- the crowd made up almost entirely of Hybrids- as they looked upon their apparent leader.
"This is just the start," Marluxia announced grandly, motioning to the video, which was once again showing the wreckage. "We won't stop- not until our place is assured!" Shouts followed this, but fell silent once more as he continued.
Zexion could only smile and sip from the cup in his hands. The buzz was a familiar one, and he doubted the party- or the monologues- would stop for a few days. A hand lay against his back, then, and he found a curious pair of lips press to his- or attempted to find his, at least. Tearing his eyes from the man, Zexion found himself face-to-face with a very inebriated Xion who was attempting to plant him with a kiss.
"What are you doing?" he hissed, attempting to level the girl with a stern look. The girl just giggled and began nibbling at his neck. Ducking beneath her attentions, he made his way over to Kairi, who was strikingly sober. Tapping her shoulder, he motioned towards the girl that was currently attempting to latch herself to his back. The redhead sighed and nodded, moving to remove the girl before she became an extra appendage. As the sisters walked towards a bedroom- to do what, Zexion didn't know- the boy idly wondered if Demyx had ever seen Xion drunk, and- if he had- if he had taken advantage of it.
Turning back towards the crowd, he listened to the rest of the speech.
"-and those who made it possible!" the man ranted on. "Fire Squad Leader Goofy!" he shouted as a dog Hybrid with an elongated nose stepped up onto the table with him to receive a round of cheers. "Carriers Donald," an older duck Hybrid with a beak and a multitude of white feathers sprouting from his skin stepped up, "Larxene," who reveled in the applause, "and Xigbar!" The last was a human with a long scar across his face. Zexion idly remembered him from a documentary on sharpshooters. Xigbar towered over everyone else by nearly a foot, and he looked a bit uncomfortable staring down at everyone. "And, finally, the guy who made this all possible- out very own Cloaked Schemer- Zexion Kisaragi!"
Unlike the others, who had known they would be called and made their way to the stage before they were mentioned, Zexion became aware of the attention with a start as he was pointed out by a commanding hand. Familiar eyes turned to stare at him in surprise. Classmates- a lot of them- seemed to double-take the situation. Stepping forward, the cat-like Hybrid was pleasantly surprised to see the crowd part for him as he made his way to the makeshift podium. There were no cheers for him; no shouts of encouragement. Only silence.
He stopped before Marluxia, cracking a sly grin. "Mission accomplished."
Marluxia's face split to make way for an expression that was nearly evil. "Victory is ours!" he shouted, raising his arms in celebration.
Confused chaos ensued.
…
He felt sick. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of Demyx's stomach and there was no satisfying it. As soon as Zexion had left two days prior his hands had begun shaking and something had gone missing inside him. Or, rather, there was an odd feeling of premonition weighing over the world that he couldn't bring himself to deal with. The only way he could explain it was to say he was addicted to the younger boy.
The ceiling wasn't particularly attractive that night, nor was there anything unusual adorning its plaster. None-the-less, Demyx stared at it for nearly four hours before he so much as rolled from his place among his bedcovers. It had been nearly three days since he'd committed to a relationship with Zexion, but he couldn't bring himself to think about things like relationships.
Instead, he watched his glow-in-the-dark tattoo watch ticking away. It showed eleven at night. A quick glance at an actual clock brought different results, however. It was nearly midnight. Hissing a curse, the boy bolted from the room in a silent haste, only to turn about and snatch his wallet from atop Arpeggio's hard drive.
No one saw Demyx leave the house aside from old Maurice, who followed the blond with a disappointed eye as the gate shut behind him. He had smiled at the old man, leaving him with a quick wave and a mouthed word of thanks through his window as he drove off down the street. Three blocks and a bridge later found the young man in a grungy part of town, complete with moldy buildings, There were dingy-looking stores lining the street, whores calling to him from the curb, and drunken men stumbling their way home- or wherever they would end up that night. Ignoring the lot of them, Demyx made his way down the darkened streets until there stood his savior.
A small, beat-up convenience store sat unceremoniously on the corner of a block. It made a show of having been broken into more than once: bars behind every possible exit, extraneous video cameras at unusual angles, and even a single, unfixed broken window. An old, dirty neon sign above the front door bravely proclaimed "Little Convenience Store." Guiding his car into a spot, Demyx all but rushed inside, requesting a pack of Lea Reds from the jumpy store clerk. The cashier, a Hybrid around the age of twenty with white feathers adoring his head and bearing glasses too heavy for his face atop an out-of-place beak, eyed him suspiciously as he hesitantly turned around to fetch the pack from behind him, holding his hand out for the blond's ID. Handing his driver's liscence over, the teen waited for the cashier to scan it into the system. In the meantime, he leaned against the counter. The small shop was in no better shape inside than outside, complete with filthy, cracked linoleum flooring and flickering fluorescent light bulbs coupled with an overwhelming stench reminiscent of cheap alcohol.
Racks of things to buy- gum, chips, etc- were rusted and almost threatened to collapse with a slight breeze. There were no refrigerators to keeps sodas cold. Instead, there were drinks mounted on shelves, some no longer holding the occasional fizz of carbonation. Reaching over to his left, Demyx grabbed a tattoo-watch packet from the counter, along with a vial the over-long label nearly folding over itself proclaimed to be "Watch-Tatoo Ink Removal Fluid" that he had to sort out from "Hangover Potions" before setting the pair gently on the counter just before the cashier placed his ID and the pack of Lea Reds down.
"Happy birthday," the Hybrid laughed, his grin lifting his cheeks in a way that could only be described as childish. "Lighter?" He motioned towards the small display, and Demyx nodded for him to drop one onto the small pile. "That'll be fifteen twenty-two," he announced, loading the things into a bag.
"Thanks," the blond laughed, setting the bills atop the counter. Collecting his change and his wares, the blond left the building with a slight shiver. On the way to his truck he gave the man behind the counter a wave, tugging the red packet from his bag along with the lighter, which was a solid, disturbing shade of baby barf green, unlike those cooler transluscent ones that other stores held. Even then, though, this one had some sort of character to it. Leaning up against his truck, he smacked the pack against his palm a few times before fishing out a cigarette, holding it to his lips as he lit up. He inhaled sharply, then allowed himself a few coughs before taking another drag. It was easier, then, but still tasted terrible.
With no breezes to carry it the smoke simply played in the space; lingering silver strands of nothingness alighting upon that which he really should have been breathing. He idly thought that starting to smoke was a bad idea- that he should have told Zexion about the plan at one point over the last few days- but the inclination dulled at the notice that his hands had stopped shaking and the deep sense of dread in his stomach had gone away.
It was a temporary fix, but it was just something to do when he didn't have the smaller boy at his immediate disposal. He'd had just a small taste of the smaller Hybrid but he was already addicted. To what, he had no idea.
On another note, Demyx knew he made an image of that could be taken many ways. There was the irony- a young, healthy, semi-athletic teenager taking up smoking the moment he turned eighteen- and then there was something else. Something told him he must have looked along the lines of 'cool' to passerby.
He didn't like the fact that he knew why.
After finishing the blond flicked the cigarette to the ground, laying his foot atop the butt and snuffing out the last of the embers before stepping into his car. He made his way back home, then, intent on a shower.
He ignored the fact that the worst of the damage to the little shop looked eerily recent.
…
Demyx hissed; he had forgotten how much removal fluid burned when he waited too long to apply it. The smart-acid should have easily slid through the first two layers of skin over his arm and gotten to the ink of his tattoo-watch, but the watch itself had been in for far too long- already lagging by an hour- and had begun attaching itself to veins. Eventually his entire arm was engulfed in metaphorical fire with the searing of smart-ink. When the agony finally ground to a halt he was once again aware of the steaming water cascading down his body, tracing the lines of muscle, bone, and skin in ways he found himself silently begging of Zexion. The trembling in his limbs slowed, but did not still as he leaned against olive-green tiles. His fingers itched for company, be it Zexion or a cigarette.
The end of the first week of Winter Break was approaching, and Demyx found himself escaping for a cigarette nearly twice a day. He knew he was hooked, but there was nothing he could do about it. Stepping from the shower, the blond reached for the towel that lay atop a solid white toilet cover. Flooring of the same tile from the shower graced the bathroom, beyond cold as far as his feet could tell. With a shiver, he moved to dry his hair, only to be interrupted by a knock at the door. "Who is it?" he called.
"Mind if I jump in?" a familiar voice replied, muffled. Demyx grinned, fixing the towel around his waist before swinging the door open to pull the Hybrid into a warm hug. "You're wet," the smaller boy observed, doing nothing to pull away.
"I missed you," the blond replied, holding Zexion closer to him. Burying his face in soft slate hair, Demyx breathed in the younger teen's scent. A cat-like ear twitched, and he would have found it endearing if it weren't for that scent tingeing the edge of Zexion's cologne. Two things were out of place. One, Zexion didn't wear cologne. Two, that smell was oddly familiar.
Zexion chuckled. "So did I," he admitted slowly, too slowly, breath tickling Demyx's chest. It reeked of something else familiar, but Demyx couldn't identify it in the leftover haze of pain. Moments later faces met and lips danced. Not long after that they broke apart, and once again the blond was hit with the fact that something wasn't quite right with the younger boy. His tongue was clumsy, even when speaking, and his hands were unusually stiff. Zexion was nervous, trembling nearly as much as Demyx was. "I had to see you," he nervously gasped, looking straight into the blond's eyes. "Marluxia's been on this near-constant monologue since the bombing and-"
Time stopped. "Bombing?"
"Didn't you hear? A bunch of rebels blew up the Hybrid Committee Chairman's car."
The continuum seemed to crawl on its own as an awkward silence passed before it froze again. "Wait- how do you know Marluxia?" An incredulous look passed over Demyx's face as Zexion mumbled something about everyone knowing Marluxia. Then, something in the blond's head finally clicked in place. "Are you drunk?" he hissed, looking at the boy in a shocking new light. He ignored how hypocritical the exclamation was.
Looking shyly off to the side, Zexion mumbled a nervous, "Maybe…" Then, without warning, the boy's hands were on Demyx's hips, sliding the towel from its place at his waist.
"W- what are you doing?" the blond requested, grasping at the towel and looking down the hall for a witness.
"Trying to seduce you," was the retort.
A blaze of red broke out along Demyx's face as he grasped the hand the pried eagerly at the material he barely managed to keep up, dragging all that was attached behind him in a rush to his room. Closing the door behind them, the blond pointed to the bed. "Sit," he ordered, walking over to his dresser to retrieve some clothes. By the time he turned around Zexion was attempting to take off his. The winter coat was already off and piled on the floor, but he seemed to be having trouble with a brown polo and it looked as if he was trying to take his pants off with his feet- which Demyx would refuse to admit looked some kind of alluring considering he'd had no idea Zexion had that sort of flexibility. Clothes- or lack there-of- forgotten, Demyx set about making sure his boyfriend's stayed on.
It was harder than he thought it would be, and he eventually found himself pinned to the bed- towel somewhere across the room- with a leg between his knee and the shiver that had been plaguing him for the passed few days replaced with a rather pleasurable quake. At one point the Hybrid had moved down, and was eventually between his legs, urging the taller boy to clutch his hair as he brought him to near insanity. Demyx would also refuse to admit that there was a lot more laughing than he would have liked from someone sucking him off, even though it felt amazing.
But something was still wrong, and he couldn't bring himself to enjoy the familiar feel of lips around him. The shivers were there; just someplace deep inside him, buring beneath a pile of insecurities and photographs.
…
Zexion awoke with a hangover that could have been worse. A light pounding in his head was all that betrayed his drunkenness of the day before, aside from the fact that he couldn't tell where he was and the realization that he was naked.
"Morning, sunshine," Demyx grinned from beside him, offering him a cup of steaming coffee.
Ah- so that was where he was.
"What time is it?" the Hybrid groaned, accepting the mug with vigor.
"Noon," the blond replied, glancing quickly at his tattoo-watch. This one glowed blue opposed to the green Zexion was used to.
"We didn't…" he trailed off, pointed to his obviously nude self. He silently thanked Demyx for keeping the light off.
Demyx laughed. "Drunk people don't make good bed partners."
"You would know," the Hybrid scoffed, scornfully recalling a drunk Xion.
Demyx blinked. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing," the Hybrid slurred, glancing quickly at Arpeggio. She was off.
The feeling in Demyx's gut kicked back into motion as the Hybrid's eyes wandered to his computer. Something was wrong.
Whatever it was, though, the blond didn't want to know.
He needed a smoke. Tugging the clothes he'd pulled from the dresser on- a band tee, some boxers, and a pair of jeans- Demyx grabbed under his mattress for his cigarettes. However, there was only one left in the box. Stuffing the box in his pocket, he made his way to the door.
"Where are you going?" the Hybrid inquired sullenly, lightly clutching his head as Demyx shuffled a bit with his shoes before opening the door.
"Convenience store- want to come? Or would you rather sleep?" Zexion collapsed back on the bed. Demyx laughed. "I'll be back in a bit." And with that he left.
As his boyfriend's footsteps receded, Zexion slowly worked his way from the bed, taking a seat at the computer chair. Pushing back the guilt that gnawed at his stomach, he whispered, "Arpeggio."
"What is it?" the woman snapped, screen blooming to life. The Hybrid winced.
"Could you be a little darker, please?" he requested.
As he asked, the screen dimmed until he could look at it without killing himself. Giving the web cam a look, all he recieved in reply was, "You said 'please.'"
"Well, the time has come, I guess," he mused, reaching into his pocket to retrieve a slip of paper. "I honestly had no idea I would get the chance to be alone with you so soon," he announced, unfurling the slip until it lay flat, revealing a set of directions and signed Marluxia.
"Romantic, aren't you?" the program hissed. Her icon wasn't on the screen at all that day. "Get to it, already."
Zexion grinned, placing the list where she could see it. "I think these directions are specific enough for you to follow."
There was silence before Arpeggio responded. "I hope you know what you're doing."
"Oh, don't worry," the boy replied with a smirk, shoving the paper back into his pocket. "I have some idea."
Government pages flashed across the screen at full brightness, blinding him in an instant. By the time he blinked the spots from his eyes the computer had already proclaimed, "Done."
"That was fast," he announced in awe.
"Flattery will get you nowhere, Zexion."
"Arpeggio." The screen went black.
The Hybrid turned his eyes to the walls, then, or- rather- to the curtains that hid them. Curious, he pulled them aside to reveal a wall full of photos. The next three revealed the same. He flicked on the light.
He only had about five minutes to find what he was looking for.
Quick Quiz: Who/What was Arpeggio in the original Kingdom Hearts games?
Chapter 5
Character: Demyx
Genre: Sci-Fi/Romance
Rating: T / PG-13
Chapters: 4/7
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.
It was a small red house: neat, orderly, and surrounded with enough flowers to crowd a funeral. A white picket fence divided it from the world in an almost surreal sense that cemented any ideas of people inside to be a normal, happy family of three or four living everyday lives that would be seen as normal from any standard. Within, however, was a group of people shouting, cheering, and all around having a good, loud time. Red plastic cups were being passed around with abandon, and place reeked of alcohol. Somewhere in the living room someone turned the television up as wreckage was displayed on screen. "Early yesterday morning, at around 12:15AM, an unidentified group bombed the car of the Hybrid Committee Head Chairman, Ansem Wisen, fleeing the scene before officials could react to the mayhem. There is, so far, no evidence as to the group's orientation, should it be terrorist or rebel. Mr. Wisen states-" Boos went up as a man with long blond hair, sharp red eyes, and a regal bearing was shown onscreen, drowning out the rest of the report.
Zexion looked upon the spectacle with glee as a man stood up before the screen. Everyone went quiet, and someone muted the television. The man grinned, though it turned into something more of a twisted sneer.
"To Marluxia!" someone called, soon joined by other calls of the man's name. It soon rose to nothing more than a roar before the man raised a hand to silence the audience. The living room was packed as it was, but even more people filled in from the kitchen until it was standing room only. An instant peace fell over the people- the crowd made up almost entirely of Hybrids- as they looked upon their apparent leader.
"This is just the start," Marluxia announced grandly, motioning to the video, which was once again showing the wreckage. "We won't stop- not until our place is assured!" Shouts followed this, but fell silent once more as he continued.
Zexion could only smile and sip from the cup in his hands. The buzz was a familiar one, and he doubted the party- or the monologues- would stop for a few days. A hand lay against his back, then, and he found a curious pair of lips press to his- or attempted to find his, at least. Tearing his eyes from the man, Zexion found himself face-to-face with a very inebriated Xion who was attempting to plant him with a kiss.
"What are you doing?" he hissed, attempting to level the girl with a stern look. The girl just giggled and began nibbling at his neck. Ducking beneath her attentions, he made his way over to Kairi, who was strikingly sober. Tapping her shoulder, he motioned towards the girl that was currently attempting to latch herself to his back. The redhead sighed and nodded, moving to remove the girl before she became an extra appendage. As the sisters walked towards a bedroom- to do what, Zexion didn't know- the boy idly wondered if Demyx had ever seen Xion drunk, and- if he had- if he had taken advantage of it.
Turning back towards the crowd, he listened to the rest of the speech.
"-and those who made it possible!" the man ranted on. "Fire Squad Leader Goofy!" he shouted as a dog Hybrid with an elongated nose stepped up onto the table with him to receive a round of cheers. "Carriers Donald," an older duck Hybrid with a beak and a multitude of white feathers sprouting from his skin stepped up, "Larxene," who reveled in the applause, "and Xigbar!" The last was a human with a long scar across his face. Zexion idly remembered him from a documentary on sharpshooters. Xigbar towered over everyone else by nearly a foot, and he looked a bit uncomfortable staring down at everyone. "And, finally, the guy who made this all possible- out very own Cloaked Schemer- Zexion Kisaragi!"
Unlike the others, who had known they would be called and made their way to the stage before they were mentioned, Zexion became aware of the attention with a start as he was pointed out by a commanding hand. Familiar eyes turned to stare at him in surprise. Classmates- a lot of them- seemed to double-take the situation. Stepping forward, the cat-like Hybrid was pleasantly surprised to see the crowd part for him as he made his way to the makeshift podium. There were no cheers for him; no shouts of encouragement. Only silence.
He stopped before Marluxia, cracking a sly grin. "Mission accomplished."
Marluxia's face split to make way for an expression that was nearly evil. "Victory is ours!" he shouted, raising his arms in celebration.
Confused chaos ensued.
…
He felt sick. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of Demyx's stomach and there was no satisfying it. As soon as Zexion had left two days prior his hands had begun shaking and something had gone missing inside him. Or, rather, there was an odd feeling of premonition weighing over the world that he couldn't bring himself to deal with. The only way he could explain it was to say he was addicted to the younger boy.
The ceiling wasn't particularly attractive that night, nor was there anything unusual adorning its plaster. None-the-less, Demyx stared at it for nearly four hours before he so much as rolled from his place among his bedcovers. It had been nearly three days since he'd committed to a relationship with Zexion, but he couldn't bring himself to think about things like relationships.
Instead, he watched his glow-in-the-dark tattoo watch ticking away. It showed eleven at night. A quick glance at an actual clock brought different results, however. It was nearly midnight. Hissing a curse, the boy bolted from the room in a silent haste, only to turn about and snatch his wallet from atop Arpeggio's hard drive.
No one saw Demyx leave the house aside from old Maurice, who followed the blond with a disappointed eye as the gate shut behind him. He had smiled at the old man, leaving him with a quick wave and a mouthed word of thanks through his window as he drove off down the street. Three blocks and a bridge later found the young man in a grungy part of town, complete with moldy buildings, There were dingy-looking stores lining the street, whores calling to him from the curb, and drunken men stumbling their way home- or wherever they would end up that night. Ignoring the lot of them, Demyx made his way down the darkened streets until there stood his savior.
A small, beat-up convenience store sat unceremoniously on the corner of a block. It made a show of having been broken into more than once: bars behind every possible exit, extraneous video cameras at unusual angles, and even a single, unfixed broken window. An old, dirty neon sign above the front door bravely proclaimed "Little Convenience Store." Guiding his car into a spot, Demyx all but rushed inside, requesting a pack of Lea Reds from the jumpy store clerk. The cashier, a Hybrid around the age of twenty with white feathers adoring his head and bearing glasses too heavy for his face atop an out-of-place beak, eyed him suspiciously as he hesitantly turned around to fetch the pack from behind him, holding his hand out for the blond's ID. Handing his driver's liscence over, the teen waited for the cashier to scan it into the system. In the meantime, he leaned against the counter. The small shop was in no better shape inside than outside, complete with filthy, cracked linoleum flooring and flickering fluorescent light bulbs coupled with an overwhelming stench reminiscent of cheap alcohol.
Racks of things to buy- gum, chips, etc- were rusted and almost threatened to collapse with a slight breeze. There were no refrigerators to keeps sodas cold. Instead, there were drinks mounted on shelves, some no longer holding the occasional fizz of carbonation. Reaching over to his left, Demyx grabbed a tattoo-watch packet from the counter, along with a vial the over-long label nearly folding over itself proclaimed to be "Watch-Tatoo Ink Removal Fluid" that he had to sort out from "Hangover Potions" before setting the pair gently on the counter just before the cashier placed his ID and the pack of Lea Reds down.
"Happy birthday," the Hybrid laughed, his grin lifting his cheeks in a way that could only be described as childish. "Lighter?" He motioned towards the small display, and Demyx nodded for him to drop one onto the small pile. "That'll be fifteen twenty-two," he announced, loading the things into a bag.
"Thanks," the blond laughed, setting the bills atop the counter. Collecting his change and his wares, the blond left the building with a slight shiver. On the way to his truck he gave the man behind the counter a wave, tugging the red packet from his bag along with the lighter, which was a solid, disturbing shade of baby barf green, unlike those cooler transluscent ones that other stores held. Even then, though, this one had some sort of character to it. Leaning up against his truck, he smacked the pack against his palm a few times before fishing out a cigarette, holding it to his lips as he lit up. He inhaled sharply, then allowed himself a few coughs before taking another drag. It was easier, then, but still tasted terrible.
With no breezes to carry it the smoke simply played in the space; lingering silver strands of nothingness alighting upon that which he really should have been breathing. He idly thought that starting to smoke was a bad idea- that he should have told Zexion about the plan at one point over the last few days- but the inclination dulled at the notice that his hands had stopped shaking and the deep sense of dread in his stomach had gone away.
It was a temporary fix, but it was just something to do when he didn't have the smaller boy at his immediate disposal. He'd had just a small taste of the smaller Hybrid but he was already addicted. To what, he had no idea.
On another note, Demyx knew he made an image of that could be taken many ways. There was the irony- a young, healthy, semi-athletic teenager taking up smoking the moment he turned eighteen- and then there was something else. Something told him he must have looked along the lines of 'cool' to passerby.
He didn't like the fact that he knew why.
After finishing the blond flicked the cigarette to the ground, laying his foot atop the butt and snuffing out the last of the embers before stepping into his car. He made his way back home, then, intent on a shower.
He ignored the fact that the worst of the damage to the little shop looked eerily recent.
…
Demyx hissed; he had forgotten how much removal fluid burned when he waited too long to apply it. The smart-acid should have easily slid through the first two layers of skin over his arm and gotten to the ink of his tattoo-watch, but the watch itself had been in for far too long- already lagging by an hour- and had begun attaching itself to veins. Eventually his entire arm was engulfed in metaphorical fire with the searing of smart-ink. When the agony finally ground to a halt he was once again aware of the steaming water cascading down his body, tracing the lines of muscle, bone, and skin in ways he found himself silently begging of Zexion. The trembling in his limbs slowed, but did not still as he leaned against olive-green tiles. His fingers itched for company, be it Zexion or a cigarette.
The end of the first week of Winter Break was approaching, and Demyx found himself escaping for a cigarette nearly twice a day. He knew he was hooked, but there was nothing he could do about it. Stepping from the shower, the blond reached for the towel that lay atop a solid white toilet cover. Flooring of the same tile from the shower graced the bathroom, beyond cold as far as his feet could tell. With a shiver, he moved to dry his hair, only to be interrupted by a knock at the door. "Who is it?" he called.
"Mind if I jump in?" a familiar voice replied, muffled. Demyx grinned, fixing the towel around his waist before swinging the door open to pull the Hybrid into a warm hug. "You're wet," the smaller boy observed, doing nothing to pull away.
"I missed you," the blond replied, holding Zexion closer to him. Burying his face in soft slate hair, Demyx breathed in the younger teen's scent. A cat-like ear twitched, and he would have found it endearing if it weren't for that scent tingeing the edge of Zexion's cologne. Two things were out of place. One, Zexion didn't wear cologne. Two, that smell was oddly familiar.
Zexion chuckled. "So did I," he admitted slowly, too slowly, breath tickling Demyx's chest. It reeked of something else familiar, but Demyx couldn't identify it in the leftover haze of pain. Moments later faces met and lips danced. Not long after that they broke apart, and once again the blond was hit with the fact that something wasn't quite right with the younger boy. His tongue was clumsy, even when speaking, and his hands were unusually stiff. Zexion was nervous, trembling nearly as much as Demyx was. "I had to see you," he nervously gasped, looking straight into the blond's eyes. "Marluxia's been on this near-constant monologue since the bombing and-"
Time stopped. "Bombing?"
"Didn't you hear? A bunch of rebels blew up the Hybrid Committee Chairman's car."
The continuum seemed to crawl on its own as an awkward silence passed before it froze again. "Wait- how do you know Marluxia?" An incredulous look passed over Demyx's face as Zexion mumbled something about everyone knowing Marluxia. Then, something in the blond's head finally clicked in place. "Are you drunk?" he hissed, looking at the boy in a shocking new light. He ignored how hypocritical the exclamation was.
Looking shyly off to the side, Zexion mumbled a nervous, "Maybe…" Then, without warning, the boy's hands were on Demyx's hips, sliding the towel from its place at his waist.
"W- what are you doing?" the blond requested, grasping at the towel and looking down the hall for a witness.
"Trying to seduce you," was the retort.
A blaze of red broke out along Demyx's face as he grasped the hand the pried eagerly at the material he barely managed to keep up, dragging all that was attached behind him in a rush to his room. Closing the door behind them, the blond pointed to the bed. "Sit," he ordered, walking over to his dresser to retrieve some clothes. By the time he turned around Zexion was attempting to take off his. The winter coat was already off and piled on the floor, but he seemed to be having trouble with a brown polo and it looked as if he was trying to take his pants off with his feet- which Demyx would refuse to admit looked some kind of alluring considering he'd had no idea Zexion had that sort of flexibility. Clothes- or lack there-of- forgotten, Demyx set about making sure his boyfriend's stayed on.
It was harder than he thought it would be, and he eventually found himself pinned to the bed- towel somewhere across the room- with a leg between his knee and the shiver that had been plaguing him for the passed few days replaced with a rather pleasurable quake. At one point the Hybrid had moved down, and was eventually between his legs, urging the taller boy to clutch his hair as he brought him to near insanity. Demyx would also refuse to admit that there was a lot more laughing than he would have liked from someone sucking him off, even though it felt amazing.
But something was still wrong, and he couldn't bring himself to enjoy the familiar feel of lips around him. The shivers were there; just someplace deep inside him, buring beneath a pile of insecurities and photographs.
…
Zexion awoke with a hangover that could have been worse. A light pounding in his head was all that betrayed his drunkenness of the day before, aside from the fact that he couldn't tell where he was and the realization that he was naked.
"Morning, sunshine," Demyx grinned from beside him, offering him a cup of steaming coffee.
Ah- so that was where he was.
"What time is it?" the Hybrid groaned, accepting the mug with vigor.
"Noon," the blond replied, glancing quickly at his tattoo-watch. This one glowed blue opposed to the green Zexion was used to.
"We didn't…" he trailed off, pointed to his obviously nude self. He silently thanked Demyx for keeping the light off.
Demyx laughed. "Drunk people don't make good bed partners."
"You would know," the Hybrid scoffed, scornfully recalling a drunk Xion.
Demyx blinked. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing," the Hybrid slurred, glancing quickly at Arpeggio. She was off.
The feeling in Demyx's gut kicked back into motion as the Hybrid's eyes wandered to his computer. Something was wrong.
Whatever it was, though, the blond didn't want to know.
He needed a smoke. Tugging the clothes he'd pulled from the dresser on- a band tee, some boxers, and a pair of jeans- Demyx grabbed under his mattress for his cigarettes. However, there was only one left in the box. Stuffing the box in his pocket, he made his way to the door.
"Where are you going?" the Hybrid inquired sullenly, lightly clutching his head as Demyx shuffled a bit with his shoes before opening the door.
"Convenience store- want to come? Or would you rather sleep?" Zexion collapsed back on the bed. Demyx laughed. "I'll be back in a bit." And with that he left.
As his boyfriend's footsteps receded, Zexion slowly worked his way from the bed, taking a seat at the computer chair. Pushing back the guilt that gnawed at his stomach, he whispered, "Arpeggio."
"What is it?" the woman snapped, screen blooming to life. The Hybrid winced.
"Could you be a little darker, please?" he requested.
As he asked, the screen dimmed until he could look at it without killing himself. Giving the web cam a look, all he recieved in reply was, "You said 'please.'"
"Well, the time has come, I guess," he mused, reaching into his pocket to retrieve a slip of paper. "I honestly had no idea I would get the chance to be alone with you so soon," he announced, unfurling the slip until it lay flat, revealing a set of directions and signed Marluxia.
"Romantic, aren't you?" the program hissed. Her icon wasn't on the screen at all that day. "Get to it, already."
Zexion grinned, placing the list where she could see it. "I think these directions are specific enough for you to follow."
There was silence before Arpeggio responded. "I hope you know what you're doing."
"Oh, don't worry," the boy replied with a smirk, shoving the paper back into his pocket. "I have some idea."
Government pages flashed across the screen at full brightness, blinding him in an instant. By the time he blinked the spots from his eyes the computer had already proclaimed, "Done."
"That was fast," he announced in awe.
"Flattery will get you nowhere, Zexion."
"Arpeggio." The screen went black.
The Hybrid turned his eyes to the walls, then, or- rather- to the curtains that hid them. Curious, he pulled them aside to reveal a wall full of photos. The next three revealed the same. He flicked on the light.
He only had about five minutes to find what he was looking for.
Quick Quiz: Who/What was Arpeggio in the original Kingdom Hearts games?
Chapter 5