Challenge 205
Challenge: 205 - Disquiet
Title: Nothing but Darkness
Word Count: 585
Notes: Losing one's sight isn't easy. (Inspired by naiyad . Sorry for the weird font size. Everything was going crazy)
Zexion wakes up one morning to darkness.
At first, he thinks the power’s gone out again but then he realises that he can’t even see his own hands. Getting to the others proves to be a difficult task, especially since the castle is in the habit of changing erratically and nothing ever stays in the same place for more than a few hours. After tripping down the stairs and almost cracking his head open on the floor, he finally finds the laboratory.
He stumbles into the door frame and latches onto the wood. “Ev-Vexen. I need your help.”
“Later.” The reply comes from his right and he automatically turns his head in that direction.
“Now.”
A sigh, frustrated. “Can’t you see that I’m busy?”
“No,” he says, his grip tightening as he admits it, “I can’t.”
The other five are curious, drawn to his strange condition as they attempt to figure out what caused it. They make him sit on a cold, metal stool as they work; Zexion can’t see them - can’t see anything - but he can sense them moving about, exchanging ideas, theories and the occasional shouts of disagreements.
They find nothing; not even Xemnas has an answer. His eyes are perfectly fine. “Sorry, dude,” Xigbar says, clasping a hand on his shoulder, “maybe it’ll come back in a few days.”
Maybe.
---
Zexion wakes up one day to whispers in his ears.
Opening his eyes, he finds nothing but darkness - he can’t see anything - and he tenses. The familiar voice is close, very close but when he reaches out with a tentative arm, he knows he’s alone in bed. Slowly, he sits up and swings his legs off the bed, onto the floor.
He yelps as something deathly cold ghosts past his feet and immediately pulls them back, grabbing his sheets and covering his them. ‘It’s just a Shadow,’ he tells himself, trying to slow his heart rate down, ‘just the Darkness.’
Taking a deep breath, he jumps off the bed and runs in the vague direction of the door, hoping against hope that it will still be there and bracing himself for the impact sure to come if it isn’t.
The collision never happens but he doesn’t dare stop. Something giggles directly above him, a haunting, childish laugh that sends a shiver down his spine; behind him, the soft padding of footsteps follow closely, near enough that he can feel them and he runs, plunging blindly forward because he can’t see anything and every nerve in his body is demanding that he runs faster.
A chuckle and the whispering in his ears grow louder - “Ienzo, Ienzo.” A sudden weight settles on his shoulders, dragging him down so that he stumbles, nearly falls face-first into the ground before he catches himself and keeps running.
“Ienzo, give it back.”
He throws his arms out in front of him, desperately searching for some boundaries, something solid to hold onto in this darkness but his fingers slip through the air, catching nothing. Dry hair brushes across his neck; fingers caress his cheek and he can’t see anything--
There is a loud crash and suddenly Zexion is flying, wind rushing up to meet him as he soars into the air. Moments later, he slams into wet concrete.
The next day, his body aches all over, his leg is broken and he can barely feel his left arm but Zexion doesn’t care. He doesn’t care at all.
Because that day, he wakes up to the ceiling.