Kingdom Hearts Fan Fiction ❯ To catch a falling star ❯ Part 10 ( Chapter 10 )

Chapter 10

Demyx woke slowly that morning, taking in the warmth of the duvet wrapped around him as he opened his eyes to the dull light filtering through the curtains. He knew there was something wrong, something didn't feel quite right from when he had gone to sleep the night before... if he could just put his finger on what it was. It would be far easier if his head didn't feel like it was stuffed with cotton wool.  Demyx rubbed his eyes with his knuckles, knocking away the sleepy tears that had gathered in the corners as he yawned loudly.

He let his whole body stretch out from its furled position, sprawling flat on his back and giving a toe curling stretch to loosen up his tight muscles. It was odd, Demyx usually slept sprawled across the bed, why was he curled up like that? He turned his head to the side, looking at the empty half of the double bed and, like a brick hitting him in the forehead, he remembered the sight of soft silvery blue locks poking up from the confines of the duvet, a warm body buried beneath the sheets as Demyx held him in his arms and the writer snuggled closer to him. Demyx felt warmth rush through him, his body humming with pleasure at the thought of spending the night curled around Zexion, the idea that he had willing drawn himself closer to him. It made a smile split the musician's face as he laughed warmly.

But the laughter quickly died away as he looked around the room, slowly sitting up when he couldn't see the object of his affection anywhere. Demyx couldn't help calling out softly, “Zexy... where are you?”

As he turned this way and that, looking around he pushed the covers away baring his still fully clothed body. The dark blue skinny jean's and baggy black t-shirt he'd worn yesterday were now full of wrinkles from having slept in them all night, but Demyx didn't truly care.

He shivered as the cool air of the room sent goose pimples up his exposed arms and the nape of his neck, the room was surprisingly cold. Demyx wanted nothing more than to remain beneath the warm covers that now lay piled in a heap on one side of the bed, rapidly cooling. But as he thought about it, the bed wasn't as inviting without Zexion in it, cuddling close to him. He looked over at the alarm clock, noting the bright red numbers glowed in the dimly lit room, indicating that it was a little passed nine o'clock. He needed to get to Zexion's lecture at ten, he sighed, giving one last forlorn glance at the bed they'd shared the night before.

Demyx gave a soft groan as he shuffled himself to the edge of the bed, letting his bare feet drop to the ground and curling his toes in the thick pile of the navy blue carpet. He stood and wobbled across to the closed door that lead out into the hallway, not caring that he was still in yesterdays clothes - maybe Zexion had gone down for breakfast?

He made his way out and down the corridor to the bathroom, thinking that Zexion may have needed to go as he approached and hadn't wanted to wake him up. But as Demyx approached the door at the end of the corridor it opened, a billow of steam leaking into the hallway, quickly followed by Roxas, clad only in a fluffy black towel carefully wrapped around his waist, followed closely by Axel in contrasting red.  

Both blond and crimson locks were plastered down to their heads, looking like two little drowned cats, instead of in their usual prickly styles. Demyx smiled at the sight of his brother and his best friend together, before attempting to tease the two. Pushing thoughts of Zexion temporarily from his mind - he must be downstairs.

Turning away from the pair and clapping a hand across his eyes in faux embarrassment, Demyx gave an exaggerated wail over his shoulder as he moved away, heading for the stairs, “My eyes, my eyes!” He heard a quiet snort behind him and straightened, removing the hand blocking his vision, throwing a further comment over his shoulder, “Can't you two save it for later - you've contaminated the shower!”  Demyx grinned to himself as he heard the pair shuffling away down the hall laughing.

Demyx let a soft chuckle out as he heard the pair grumbling good naturedly about it being too early, before another door clicked shut behind him, his foot thumping as it hit the first step on the way down the stairs.

When Demyx got to the kitchen he saw Leon at the stove, wrapped in a familiar waist to knee length apron in black and red stripes. He took a deep sniff of the tantalising aroma of the fresh porridge that the brunet was cooking and all but drooled, he could feel his stomach rumbling furtively, still not quite loud enough to be heard over the sound of the light clatter of pots, plates and cutlery.

As Demyx walked further into the room he caught sight of the large six seated pine table off to the left that they usually ate all their meals around, and felt a frown furrow his brow when he noticed it was only set for five.

Where was Zexion's place? It was clear the other man wasn't here or in the bathroom. That was when Demyx felt the first stirrings of concern. He was sick - we're could he have gone.

Demyx moved past the central island to stand, resting his rear against the far end of the wooden topped surface, situating himself behind the stoic brunet, watching Leon navigate easily around the kitchen, not wanting to disturb the older man. He seemed strangely at home in this place, especially for a man you wouldn't think would go near an oven with a barge pole.

Demyx gave a small smile, remembering the rather distressed look that had flitted across the brunet's face when he had returned home one day to find Cloud had demolished the kitchen in an attempt to make Leon a romantic meal.

As his thought's returned to the present Demyx couldn't help enquiring about the empty place at the breakfast table, “Leon - is someone not having breakfast?” He shifted awkwardly on the spot, his gaze wandering to the table set with all the condiments and cutlery for breakfast, once settled their his eyes were riveted, there was something about there not being a sixth setting that had his stomach bunching with nerves.

“Zexion's not having breakfast. He said he needed to go out for a while. Though I did give him an apple to eat - that one, is far too thin for my liking. He looks half starved.” Demyx turned swiftly when Leon mentioned that Zexion wasn't in the house anymore, his wide eyes must have caught the older man's attention as he spoke again, “I thought he may not have mentioned that he was going out. He was attempting to be sneaky when he left, which - as you know - doesn't work in this house.”

Demyx watched the brunet move around the kitchen as he finished cooking up the porridge, he couldn't bring himself to speak, far too many thoughts whirring through his mind. He stood there feeling a little lost, not really sure what to think as his arms raised and curled around his stomach.

Was he coming back?

Did he not want to see him?

Demyx felt bereft and sad, the fact that the writer had left the house, had tried to sneak out, had him both concerned and angry. Zexion was sick! He shouldn't be going anywhere; only yesterday he fell asleep with a fresh fever! He wasn't well enough to be going out yet.

On top of that, he should have woken Demyx up or left a note - something! But maybe - he turned to where Leon was dishing up breakfast into bowls on the counter by the sink. He couldn't stop the stumble as he first spoke, “Leon, did he...did he leave a note... something...anything?”

Demyx watched as concerned gunmetal grey orbs turned on him, rich chocolate coloured bangs swayed as Leon shook his head slowly. Demyx felt his heart falter; miss a beat, as he turned his own aqua eyes away from those knowing eyes. He felt something painful twist in his chest, he didn't want to see him - maybe Demyx had gone too far?

Demyx didn't hear anything for a few minutes; it was like his ears were full of static. He startled, jumping slightly when he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder squeezing gently, a deep warm voice penetrating the haze he had found himself in. Demyx looked up into warm charcoal coloured eyes, a deep furrow between them; he did his best to focus outward instead of inwards.

“Demyx, you alright?”

He nodded slowly, unable to get any words out as he felt a thick lump of pent up emotion tightening his throat. Demyx felt like he was gasping for air, even though he could hear himself breathing easily. His arm's tightened reflexively, hands fisting the cloth of his baggy t-short tightly as he tried to hold himself together. Demyx watched idly as Leon went and reduced the temperature on the hob, leaving the porridge to simmer. That warm palm returned, gently apply pressure to turn him around, nudging him towards the table. Demyx heard the dull scrape of a chair being pulled across the tiles, and then found himself sat down, not really comprehending how he had arrived at the table.

He stared out at the warm kitchen, his vision suddenly blocked once more by sharp eyes. Demyx saw the furrow in Leon's brow and reached out a single finger to press against the ridge. It was something he had done a lot as a kid, finding it fun to tease a small quirk and a warm glance from his brother's partner. He felt calloused fingers grab his hand as the older man shook him slightly; a concerned tone infiltrating that familiar voice, “Demyx, look at me. I want you to listen to me, alright?”

Demyx nodded absently, mind whirring with thoughts of not seeing the writer again, having frightened him away with his tactile nature. He felt his whole body move as Leon shook him and his sapphire orbs locked onto gunmetal grey. “Pay attention - he was fine when he left. And from what he said he'll be back, alright? I would think that he needed some time to think and, I believe, you need the same.”

Demyx could see and hear the sincerity of Leon's words and in his eyes, this man would never lie to him - he couldn't, it was a part of who he was, truthful to the core. Demyx heart slowed and his thoughts turned to a trickle. He knew that Leon was right.

Zexion never said things he didn't mean, he was far too precise with his words for them to be misconstrued and, if Leon said that Zexion had said he would come back, then he believed him.

Demyx shook off the daze his mind felt trapped in, staring past Leon to the kitchen, he felt like he had been stuck in a dream and that he was only just surfacing from. When he looked back at his brother's partner he felt a small smile curl his lips. Demyx leant forward and wrapped his arms around Leon. It was rare that he even tried to touch him, knowing how averse to it Leon was and he quickly let go. When Demyx looked up at him he could see the tension in his tall frame, the need he had to get out of his embrace.

Demyx stepped back speaking softly, “Thanks Leon - I needed that.”

He looked across to the stove and frowned at the odd smell starting to fill the air, “Hey uhm.... is it supposed to smell like that?” Demyx turned inquiring aqua blue eyes on the brunet, watching as his eyes widened before he all but bolted across the room to switch the stove off and try to salvage what was left of breakfast. He smiled at Leon as he quickly dished up breakfast, making a beeline for the stairs to call everyone else down for porridge.

Demyx sat quietly at the table, turning to stare out the window and focusing on the peak of the roof he could see across the street. That was Zexion's house - though he really wanted to go and find him, talk with him now he wasn't in the midst of a fever Demyx also knew that he needed space.

Leon was right and he thought that maybe he needed it to.

He turned away when he heard heavy footfalls on the stairs, Leon returning to the kitchen to deposit bowls of oat rich porridge on the table. Demyx gave a swift smile before speaking, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders that he hadn't even noticed was there, “I'm gonna head down to the beach.”

Leon looked back at him over his shoulder, giving a firm nod in response, before continuing to serve up breakfast.  Demyx smiled at Roxas and Axel as they tumbled in, still rumpled and damp from their shower. Watching as Cloud quietly walked up behind Leon to whisper in his ear. Demyx noticed both turn to look at him, but just smiled in response. When they were all seated at the table they gave a traditional, “Itadekimasu,” before digging into the meal.

When everything was finished and cleared away, Demyx headed to grab fresh clothes and to check the bus timetable. He felt a second heavy hand fall on his shoulder as he went to take his first step onto the stairs. He looked over his shoulder to see Cloud's calloused hand on his shoulder and he pivoted around Cloud's crystal blue eyes staring into his own aqua blue, “Leon said you were going to the beach?”

“Yeah, I need a swim to clear my head.” What could Demyx say? He really missed the accessibility that they'd had when he and Axel had been back at school. It had felt like forever since they had gone to the beach with Zexion, it was the one place where he could just think.

“I'll take you.” Cloud's quiet voice was always nice to here, soothing in its depth and clarity, it was rare that he or Leon spoke overly much and he'd gotten quite a few words out of both of them today. He knew the reason though; it was clear in his brother's gaze. They were concerned for him.

Demyx couldn't help protesting, Cloud always spent his rare days off with Leon. It was often that they got to spend much time together and he didn't want to ruin that, it was important to them and to him. “But, it's your day off...”

“I'll take you.” Cloud's voice firmed, lowering in tone and Demyx felt his protest dying on his lips. That voice reminded him of the few times he'd gotten in trouble with cloud as a teenager, and, though he was old enough not to get in trouble anymore that voice still made him pause.

“I...,” Cloud stared down at him in silence. “Thank you... but don't blame me if Leon's grumpier than normal because of it.” Demyx got a small smile for that, the tiniest quirk of lips and a bright spark in cerulean orbs, before he turned and ran upstairs to get his things.

00-00-00

Zexion sat quietly staring out at the sea.

He wasn't sure what had brought him out here initially but, after walking up to his front door, he couldn't face the cold sterile interior of the house. He had started walking, wandering around for a while before his feet had led him to the bus stop.

He'd taken one glance at the destination - Atlantica Beach. He didn't give it a second thought, quickly boarding the bus.

Zexion didn't really remember the ride out, lost in cloudy thoughts as his eyes roved over the changing landscape until he spied the dark swell of the ocean in the distance.

He felt that same warmth that had coursed through him that day they had all spent together there. It felt like such a long time ago, yet it had only been a few weeks. Zexion had finally arrived, disembarking, making a beeline for the stairs that led down to the golden sandy beach.

He shucked his worn out trainers at the bottom of the steps, gathering them up in his arms and feeling his eyes slide closed as he stepped slowly down onto the shifting sands. Zexion could feel his feet sink in, the warmth that the golden grains held, warming and tickling his feet as it shifted, resettling around them.

Zexion tucked his hair behind his ear as he let his eyes open, his whole body absorbing the quiet air that this place held. It reminded him of the libraries he worked in, peaceful without being oppressive in their silence. The beach was fairly empty now, the crowd's of the summer had passed, children back at school, adults back to day jobs they worked practically all year round.

He felt slightly guilty for not being back at the university, catching up on all the work he had missed whilst being sick, but he needed a little space - just a few hours of not having to worry about everything. Coursework, books, work, bills and repairs - everything that his life was constantly dictated by, he couldn't remember the last time he had done this.

Zexion took a deep breath, the cool air filtering into his lungs, tasting salt on his tongue. He settled down in the sand a few centimetre's from where the waves were languidly lapping at the shore, his bare feet sinking in, burrowing into the warm dampness. Zexion let his eyes trail over the beach, seeing distant blur's as other people enjoyed the empty dunes, walking dogs or flying brightly coloured kites in the distance.

When his eyes shifted to stare out at the vast expanse of open air and gently rolling waves, he could feel the tension ebbing from his shoulders, there was something about this place that soothed him - it felt... empty. There were no concerns, no worries to think about.

The beach was free of all the hustle and bustle of daily life, it was raw - natural.

Zexion found that aspect a deep draw on his aching heart. He couldn't help but let his mind wander as he got lost in the feel of the cool salty air blowing across his skin, the tide licking at the sand around his feet.

Though the sky overhead was a little overcast, it was warm out, the sun making brief appearances through the dappled cloud cover.  Zexion's mind wandered as he stared fixedly at the horizon, arms lacing over his bent knees, as he let his chin rest against them. Zexion got a strong whiff of pine scented polish and just the faintest traces of something else.

He didn't try to withhold the tender curl of his lips, pressing his nose to the fabric and inhaling deeply. Zexion sighed as that strangely familiar, and comforting, smell filled his senses. He breathed out slowly, one word falling from his chapped lips, “Demyx...”

It was his scent, the polish he used to clean his sitar on his favourite hooded shirt. Zexion had seen him wear this top so many times and, as he had snuck it out of Demyx's room that morning, he couldn't help but take the familiar stripped garment, tugging it over his smaller frame.

It hung loose on him but Zexion didn't mind, it was more comfortable this way, his hands ensconced in the soft fabric. The other scent that he couldn't explain...that was all him, all Demyx, his natural smell.

Even though Zexion knew he had left the musician safely tucked in bed, cuddling the duvet he had been sleeping under, he felt closer to him, being here - wearing his clothes. Zexion hoped Demyx wouldn't be too angry with him for leaving, he had told his brother's partner, he thought that was who he was, that he would return. The tall brunet had given him an odd look, he had nodded and spoke a little stiltedly, giving his name and asking when Zexion would be returning.

As Zexion had been about to leave he'd called over his shoulder, he had turned to find an apple flying towards him. He caught the fruit, looking up slightly bewildered by the other man; he had already turned his back to him walking towards the kitchen, a single word floating back over his shoulder, “Breakfast.”

Zexion had stood there for a good few minutes looking down at the glossy skin of the red apple nestled in his palms before slipping on his worn out trainers and ducking quietly out the front door.

This family was ... unusual.

They didn't behave like all the ones Zexion had read about, they were a puzzle to him. Zexion's mind wandered back to the musician, he could see Demyx in his minds eyes, curled up next to him on the bed, soft steady breaths washing across his cheek. He had looked so content while he was asleep, his highly animated features smooth and sedate. It was a rare sight. Zexion hadn't been able to help reaching out and drawing a solitary fingertip across his features, tracing each blonde eyebrow, the curve to the tip of his nose, down across slightly parted, peach coloured lips.

It was a revelation in itself - he could touch him - but did that mean he could only touch Demyx or was it that he could touch anyone now?

If so, to what extent? There were so many questions filling Zexion's head.

Zexion shook them away for the moment, instead turning his mind to more concerning subjects. Demyx had seen him ... all of him and that worried Zexion. Should he try to explain? Should he just ignore it?

He couldn't formulate an answer, his head going back to these constant questions. Zexion thought he had gotten passed it, the wall he had built around his heart to protect it from others, the self imposed distance he had created to keep himself safe.

They were all mechanisms to keep people at bay, to keep emotions at bay, and yet, Demyx had managed to wriggle through. To push past the walls, fences and barriers Zexion had put in place when his brother had died.

He felt hollow, uncertain how to proceed. Zexion needed time to understand, but he also felt like he couldn't understand without him - Demyx.

Over the past few months Demyx had gotten under his skin, and everything about the blond haired musician made Zexion's heart ache with some unknown emotion roiling inside him.

So Zexion wasn't completely hollow.

He was searching - for answers, explanations to the emotions he could feel squirming free of his tight grasp. In the space of a few days Zexion had cracked under the pressure of the musicians emotions, his persistence and he didn't think he cared that much.

He felt raw yes, but he also felt bare...new, wanting to reach outwards, like a newborn foal finding their feet for the first time. Zexion hadn't felt this much since he had locked his feelings away all those years ago. Was it time? Could he finally tell someone his story? Could he stand the pity in Demyx's innocent eyes?

Zexion bit down on his thumb, chewing listlessly as these thoughts tumbled through his head, the sun shifting its position in the sky as the day moved from morning to afternoon.  Zexion didn't register the deep rumble of an engine behind him up on the sea wall, his mind far away, floating in a sea of unanswered questions.

That's why he was surprised to hear his name called from a distance. Zexion turned, one hand falling to the sand to steady his movements as his knees fell to the side. He stared out through hazy eyes, catching sight of bright blue and a brilliant smile. Zexion's words fumbled from his lips, “Demyx? What...are...you..?”

Zexion was startled by the musician's sudden appearance, eyes caught and held twin aqua orbs as he moved closer, walking easily across the sand. Zexion couldn't drag his eyes away from him, he looked so comfortable and at home here. He watched as low slung black board shorts shifted on pale hips, exposing a thin patch of skin every time Demyx moved. His favourite blue band t-shirt blowing back in the salty wind, his hair shifted in dirty blond waves in response to the tickling breeze.

Demyx's feet were bare, sinking into the sand as he walked confidently across the sand towards him, his voice rushed over Zexion as he drew closer, triggering warmth that pooled in his chest and belly, “So what are you doing out here Zexy? I was wondering where you'd gone off to when Leon said you left this morning.”

Zexion sat silently just taking in the sight of him. He hadn't realised how different he looked out here, natural, calm even. Zexion let a soft smile curl the corner of his lip as he replied, “Just needed some air.”

He watched as Demyx looked down at him curiously after he spoke those words. Demyx's eyebrows dipped for a few moments as he gave Zexion an intense look, before his lips broke into a warm smile. His words whispered across Zexion's skin, like the soft brush of velvet, as the musician knelt down bring them eye to eye. Zexion held his breath when Demyx leant in, his breath ghosting across the exposed tip of his ear, “I know what you mean.”

When Demyx had spied a familiar head of silvery blue down on the sand below, he'd waved a hurried good bye to Cloud; thanking him for the ride as he all but ran down the stairs. He had hurriedly slipped off his flip flops as he'd hit the bottom step, calling out to the seated figure.

He smiled broadly when Zexion turned, he chuckled as the writer's eyes widened when he caught sight of him. The way he spoke, pausing between words, showed his obvious surprise. When Zexion replied to Demyx's question about his presence here he was uncertain at first of his answer. This wasn't the kind of place that you would usually find the bookish man.

But as he'd scrutinized that pale face, Demyx could see the open sincerity in his features and he couldn't stop the sudden need to be closer, though he didn't touch. Demyx leant in, letting his breath ghost across Zexion's ear as he spoke, before pulling back and giving him a warm smile.

Demyx had really missed him this morning and finding him here, in his favourite place, made him feel exceedingly happy. He shifted a bit, settling himself in the sand beside Zexion, digging his toes into the sand as he leant back on his hands, relishing the feel of the briny breeze slinking through his hair and caressing his skin, the sea lipping at his half buried toes. Demyx turned to watch Zexion for a few moments, seeing him settle once more staring, out at the sea.

When his arms wrapped around his knees once more and he all but nuzzled into the fabric of the striped hoodie he was wearing Demyx realised that he was wearing his hoodie. It was his favourite striped top; he had been wondering where it was this morning. He looked over the writer carefully, taking in how the fabric hung loosely from his slender body; it suited him, the dark charcoal and pale grey bands contrasting with his pale skin and black jeans. Demyx could see his battered black Vans sat beside him, his bare feet pale in contrast with his dark sand coated jeans, that were rolled up to mid calf.

Demyx knew why he hadn't rolled them up any further, but though his mind burned with questions he didn't want to push Zexion If the writer chose to tell him then he would be happy to listen, but he didn't want to cause Zexion any pain - he'd had more than his share of that. Demyx couldn't help his mind wandering back to that day, the day he had found Zexion in his entryway passed out, hot with fever.

Demyx stared fixedly out at the horizon, his mind running over the rest of that evening. He had hurried Zexion inside and once they had checked his temperature, he had carried him to the bathroom and locked the door. He remembered Axel banging and shouting to let him in, but he had been adamant about Zexion's privacy, and told Axel just that.

He'd heard Roxas's voice then, talking to the angry red head, and after they'd grown quiet for a short time Axel had begrudgingly agreed to leave him to help Zexion. Demyx couldn't explain why he felt this need to keep the writer close, to protect him, but he knew deep down that Zexion had his reasons for being the way he was, and Demyx felt compelled to keep him from anyone else's eyes. He'd been so careful as he'd slowly stripped him down, waiting for the bath to fill with lukewarm water, it was the surest way to reduce his temperature, but he knew from experience how horrible it would feel.  

Demyx had felt guilty on both counts, for inflicting this on Zexion and for having to expose what he so studiously hid under his baggy garments. But Demyx had known he couldn't avoid it either. He couldn't leave Zexion in his clothes, as much as he'd wanted too, they would only be a hindrance when he was soaked through. Demyx had propped him carefully against the wall, kneeling with his legs stretched between his own, kneeling over to brace him as Demyx had removed the oversized charcoal coloured sweater he'd had on.

As Demyx looked down at the considerably smaller body underneath he had noticed the first of many scars.

He had a thin white t-shirt on, sleeves coming to just above the elbows, as his eyes traced up the newly exposed milky white skin of Zexion's forearms he could see at the hem of his sleeve a slightly paler strip of skin. As he had shifted closer, reaching out, nudging the material up further, taking in the narrow strip of skin that looked almost like a welt, but as Demyx's fingers ran across it he could feel that the skin was thin, and slightly wrinkled - an old scar. He felt his heart lodge in his throat as his gaze had shifted to Zexion's relaxed face, what had happened to him?

Demyx had hoped beyond reason that what he found under his t-shirt wouldn't be bad but, in his heart he'd known it was wishful thinking, nobody who behaved the way Zexion did had a simple story to tell.

He had carefully pealed the white fabric up Zexion's torso, resting his forehead against his chest as he'd extracted each arm and then pulled it over his head. Demyx had looked down at him then, hair even more mussed than before, sticking up in little spikes at the back, sweat beading on his forehead and as Demyx made his eyes drift lower he could see the pale crisscross of slender scars curling around his sides.

Demyx had held his breath then, leaning Zexion further forward, he didn't restrain the grimace or the pained whimper that had spilled from his lips at the sight of his back. The lines across Zexion's pale skin covered his back, a mesh of shallow and deep scars that were now so pale they contrasted with his already pale skin.

He had forced his hands to relax when he realised that he was gripping Zexion's arms hard. He swallowed all his thoughts and feelings down then, pushing them away to be dealt with later. Zexion had been trembling; a dark flush on his cheeks reminding him that he was doing this for a reason. Demyx had stripped Zexion's socks and trousers away, leaving practical cotton boxers behind, to cover Zexion's modesty. The scars extended further down, thinning when they reached his knees.

Demyx couldn't comprehend how anyone could do that to him, nobody deserved this.

How had he survived such pain?

Demyx was even more careful with him after that, lifting him into his arms, resting his cheek against silvery-blue strands, before lowering him into the bath. Zexion's body had stiffened, a quiet moan leaving his lips, eyes fluttering, body trying to get away from the cold.

Demyx had held him there gently, hand supporting his head and whispering softly, hoping to sooth his pain. He had started to sing quietly and he had finally stilled. Demyx didn't leave him in there for long, pulling Zexion out and drying him off with his own downy soft towel. He wrapped Zexion up in the sheet of woven cotton, taking him into his room - nobody disturbed has disturbed them. Demyx quickly stripped Zexion down, keeping his eyes averted as he got him dressed again, his own cotton pyjama's hanging from his smaller frame, before he'd settled him under the covers.

Demyx hadn't done anything then, sitting beside the bed on his desk chair, fingers laced together as he watched Zexion in silence. He had felt the tears running down his cheeks, but he never made a sound, just changed the cold compress whenever he thought it had warmed too much. Demyx knew then that he would never feel pity for Zexion - it wouldn't be fair.

He had been through so much, and he was still here, quirks and all.

As the memories faded, Demyx felt something poking at his cheek, turning his head to look down he caught sight of long slender fingers slowly withdrawing from his face. He didn't even think, his hand just moved, curling around those alabaster digits and pulling them back to press against his cheek. Demyx heard Zexion gasp in response, Demyx's eyes drifted up to stare into wide slate coloured orbs, but he didn't let go.

He wasn't sure he could.