Fic: Silence is Golden (8/9)
Aug. 9th, 2010 03:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
zenellyTitle: Silence is Golden
Pairing: Zemyx
Disclaimer: KH = NOT MINE.
Dedications: to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
prettypixiechan. Because she is my lovely beta. All other mistakes are my own.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: When Demyx goes to college, he wants to learn and get his degree. He doesn't want to have a roommate who refuses to speak, a drifter who decides to live in his room, or fall in love. Too bad what Demyx wants is not what Demyx gets.
Chapter 1 : Chapter 2 : Chapter 3 : Chapter 4 : Chapter 5 : Chapter 6 : Chapter 7 : Chapter 8 : Chapter 9
* * * * * *
Demyx unlocked their door and walked inside, smiling absently at the uncluttered room. It was good to be home again. Classes would start in a couple of days, there would be frantic book-buying tomorrow, but for right now, now it was just time to breathe a relax for a day. But there was something wrong.
He frowned and looked closely at the room. What was different?
And then it hit him.
The couch, which had served as Axel's bed for almost four months by that point, wasn't covered in blankets and clothes like it had been. In fact, the pile of clothing that was Axel's that used to be in the corner was completely….
Gone.
It…wasn't supposed to be gone.
Demyx's eyes were drawn to his desk, where a single key rested, one that opened the door to their room.
A terrible, rushing pounding noise filled Demyx's ears.
Axel….
Zexion had told him. Perhaps not in so many words, since the lilac-haired man couldn't speak, but still. Zexion had told him what was going on when Demyx refused to believe it.
Axel had left.
No explanation had been given, no note, just a sudden vanishing of clutter and warmth. Axel had left, and their room was uncomfortably large and lonely without his almost-constant presence. Demyx unconsciously looked for a flame-red mass of spikes whenever they were out, praying like he had when Axel had shown up again that the lean man would come back.
If he heard the silent pleas, Axel never came back.
Axel had left.
Left, and so much had left with him.
There was no more fiery tang of metal in the air. No more movie nights where four or more people would end up in a tangled pile of limbs like a group of snuggling puppies and one of them was always too bony and comfortably warm. No quiet and not-so-quiet sniping back and forth between a certain redhead and either Zexion or Roxas.
…Roxas…
Demyx could almost feel Roxas tearing to pieces.
It was a subtle thing, Roxas's breaking. Unless you had seen him, comfortable and bantering around Axel, there wasn't anything different. Except for something tighter around the blonde's eyes, the way his mouth seemed set in a permanent frown. The tension in his shoulders. The bitterness that laced every comment, made them all taste like foul, slow-killing poison.
Sora's tears every time he looked at Roxas.
"You were so happy," he would say, as if saying that would help him get better. "So very happy, Roxas…"
Roxas slept in their room a couple of nights every week.
Both Zexion and Demyx pretended they didn't see his red eyes and salt-crusted eyelashes every morning. It wasn't their place to tell him to get over Axel's sudden departure. Not when Demyx was also hurt by it. But the musician should have expected it. Should have seen it coming.
He should have, and he kept beating himself up over it. He should have seen it coming from miles away, further than that. After all, it was Axel. Axel the vagabond, who never stayed anywhere for longer than two weeks but had stuck around for four months here. Axel the wanderer, who always wondered what was over the next hill, beyond the horizon.
Who had just left.
Axel, who – as cliché as it sounded – had taken Roxas's heart with him.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Everything felt like it had been rubbed raw and bleeding. The group's interactions were strained, missing a spark, and all of them were afraid of saying something that would set that closed-down scowl on Roxas's face. All because Axel had left.
Zexion hated him.
No one person should be able to cause so much pain and confusion.
The inconsiderate bastard had even tried to hide the fact that he was leaving.
"Don't worry about it, Dem. I slipped at work today and got burned, that's all." And Axel had smiled, laughed it off.
Lied.
Lied through his teeth.
Zexion had known. When he had come in earlier, he had seen the bandage over his un-tattooed cheek and he had known. They had started to argue in the strange way they had, hissing and tapping noises from the slate-haired man and yelling from the redhead, and finally, finally Zexion had just written it down on paper.
"Coward."
And Axel hadn't denied it, just bit his lip and glared, hissing softly about how he knew that, but he had to leave anyway. Because he just had to know what was out there, he had to get out, get going, just leave.
Zexion hated him.
Because that's exactly what he had done.
Just…left.
But slowly, oh so slowly, things were getting better.
The space where Axel had been was still blank and shadowed in hurt, but a day finally came where Larxene remembered something Axel had done and it made everyone laugh. Demyx blinked, looked around the group and laughed again. They were healing. Not forgetting, but slowly accepting the loss.
Even Roxas had laughed, though his eyes were glass-pane flat and cold.
Months later, the redhead was remembered with an exasperated sort of fondness, and everyone had gotten used to the fragile pain that lingered around Roxas and Demyx. The two blondes, Zexion knew, were sad for different reasons. Demyx, because Axel was a friend and he felt guilty about not seeing that Axel was going to leave. Roxas, because Roxas was in love and had been betrayed.
He wasn't going to get over that any time soon.
But still.
Life moved on.
The days plodded on, schoolwork swarmed over the group of students, and they kept going. Things were good, but all was not fixed.
Zexion still couldn't speak in front of people. He didn't know why, but it never felt like the right time to show Demyx that he could talk again. Late at night, he spoke to himself, reading passages from books, making sure he remembered how to properly pronounce words. The strange, oppressive pressure that had clogged his throat during the winter break came back, almost painful and chocking.
He wondered how he had managed to not speak for so long.
Every day was a battle against his impulses, the overwhelming want to speak to Demyx warring against his habitual silence. He wanted to erase the sad look in Demyx's green-blue eyes, but he couldn't find a way to do it. It was killing him, and he had never thought himself one to use such overdramatic language. But there was a twisting sort of agony in his chest that could not be ignored.
How had he managed?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Demyx blinked curiously down at the tickets on his desk.
It wasn't like he was going to refuse them (because really, they were tickets to go see André Rieu), but he didn't know who they had come from. And there were two of them. So who had left them, and who wanted to go with him?
Turning to Zexion, who was sitting quietly at his desk, Demyx asked him if he had seen anyone leave the tickets there.
Zexion paused then shook his head.
There was another pause before Demyx wondered out loud who wanted him to go, plopping down heavily into his chair, tapping his foot on the side of the desk.
A slight touch on his shoulder, and Demyx looked up to see his pale roommate standing behind him. Slight tingeing his cheeks and ears a light rose, a faint blush rushed across Zexion's face as he pointed to himself.
The blonde blinked, asked if Zexion wanted to come along.
Nodding slightly, Zexion's hands wavered for a second before reaching out to grab the tickets, passing one to Demyx and holding the other one carefully between his fingers.
Okay, now there was no way Demyx wasn't going.
Because it was basically a date. With Zexion.
And Demyx didn't even really have to ask him.
It was a few weeks before the concert (and really, how did that person even get the tickets this close? They had been sold out for months. Demyx knew. He had checked.), but no matter who he asked, no one knew who had bought them, and Zexion, usually very aware of who entered their room, had no idea who had left them on his desk. Demyx knew that something was up. Sure, he may not be the most observant of people, but still. When things all lined up like this, it was quite obvious.
Obviously, he had…no idea.
Maybe someone would tell him eventually….
Knowing his friends though, he would be kept in the dark for a long, long time.
He waited anxiously for the day of the concert, though the closer it got, the more nervous he was. It eventually reached the point where he was running down the hall to Sora's room, thrusting approximately fifteen outfits at the theater major and insisting that he help Demyx choose an outfit.
Roxas kicked him out of the room after the first three.
Finally, dressed in a pair of pinstriped black pants and a royal blue dress shirt that he had spent hours agonizing over –he was turning into such a girl-, Demyx met Zexion to go see André Rieu.
The concert was amazing. The lights, the sounds, the waltzes. Demyx only hoped that whenever he played music, he looked half as happy as André did.
At the first shimmering strains of violins (André had laughed, laughed and said that he couldn't keep people from dancing when this song played), Demyx quivered in his seat, leaning forward and focusing his entire existence on the notes that were to follow. He could feel Zexion's curious gaze on him, but the rest of the orchestra had joined in.
And the Blue Danube Waltz had begun.
The music swirled and ran around him, lifting him up and singing inside him until he could no longer take it. Demyx stood up, smiled down at Zexion, and pulled the pale man up to dance. Wide cobalt eyes stared up at him –his roommate was actually quite small, he kept forgetting that- as the blonde started to gently ease him into a waltz. After a couple of bars of stepping on each other's feet, Zexion sighed, and switched their hands, taking the lead.
Demyx laughed and danced, Zexion's body warm against his own.
He could see something like a smile on pale lips, and he realized in a flash of not-quite-melancholy that this is what he needed to let Axel go.
Closeness.
Movement.
It was over too soon.
Demyx focused on getting them home, feeling the beginnings of exhaustion creeping up on him. Carefully, carefully he drove home, laughing every few seconds from remembered joy, and they made it back to the dorms just in time for a wave of dizziness to wash over the blonde musician.
He let himself be helped up to the room, still chortling madly, even though his mind couldn't focus enough to do much more.
And he had the crazy feeling that he was talking, murmuring half-formed sentences to the person he was leaning on. Demyx didn't quite understand what was happening, but then Zexion's face swam into focus through the blur of shadows and colors his world had become. Reaching out, his hands tapped and patted Zexion's cheek gently.
The blonde slurred out a sentence, trying to focus on his roommate's face, and instead settling on a happy, exhausted grin in his general direction. Feeling numbness sweep over his mind, Demyx let himself be maneuvered underneath his blankets.
And as he settled into sleep, he thought he heard a soft voice reply:
"I know."
Demyx woke up the next morning in a sweat.
What the hell had he said last night?
His dreams had been filled with swirling words, impressions that flung themselves against him and drained away within minutes. With one hand he rubbed his forehead; the other clenched tightly in his sheets. What had happened? What had he said?
"I love you, you know?"
Blinking, he focused, trying hard to come up with what had happened before that whispered sentence.
And all he could remember was Zexion's face, and a single, almost-silent reply.
"I know."
Demyx started swearing.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Zexion decided that his blonde roommate had been contaminated by Axel's bad habits.
Because really, where else would Demyx learn those words?
Sitting at his desk, idly watching the sunlight stream through the window, the pale man's thoughts scattered easily. Had he really spoken to Demyx? Just two words, perhaps, and said when there was almost no chance of Demyx realizing that it wasn't simply a dream, but it was still a step forward.
He was getting closer.
It was now just a matter of time.
Two weeks later, Zexion was once again sitting at his desk, futilely trying to pay attention to his work.
His eyes tracked over to see Demyx sitting on the couch, looking for all the world like he'd just rather be back in bed. A pencil was shoved behind one ear, legs crossed underneath a book and a piece of paper. And Demyx was chewing on his lip, his eyes almost crossing with the amount he was concentrating. His eyes were tired –which was a surprise, because Demyx had an endless store of energy- and his hands were moving slowly across the paper, one finger tracing the words he was reading as his lips formed the sounds silently. The blonde yawned, stretching backwards and twisting from side to side to wake up muscles that had relaxed.
Then, by some coincidence or just plain bad luck, he slipped off the couch.
Zexion wasn't quite sure what it was, perhaps the squeaking noise Demyx made when he hit the ground, or the pouting, offended glare he gave the couch (as though it was the couch's fault he had fallen), or maybe just the fact that it had happened so quickly. Or maybe it was none of it.
But Zexion looked at Demyx, red-faced and sitting on the floor and utterly embarrassed, and laughed.
And that was the beginning.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Zexion sighed and looked around the room. The walls were too white, and the window was large, but seemed too small. The floor was tile and cold and there was nothing in the way of clutter except for boxes. There was no sign of the life and vitality that had been in this room only a few days ago. It was time to go home.
Summer was beginning.
Once more he sighed before turning to face the other person in the room with him.
Sea-blue eyes watched him anxiously as their owner shifted from foot to foot. Biting his lip, Demyx murmured, "I'm going to miss you, Zexy…"
The pale man nodded in reply, the habit of years hard to break even now.
"Call me?"
A smile flitting across his angular face, Zexion nods again.
"Promise? Every week, remember?"
There was a slightly fond sigh and the English major reached over to put his hand on Demyx's shoulder. It was a reassuring gesture, and he could feel the tension melting underneath his sensitive fingertips. For his efforts, he received a sunny smile.
And with that, he turned to go, backpack swaying on his shoulders.
The door closed behind him.
For a second he stood there, wondering: Was that it? Was that all there was going to be - silence, nothing said, nothing explained?
He didn't even make it to the stairs right outside their room before the door slammed open behind him and Demyx rushed out. The blonde spotted him, and didn't stop, just barreled straight into him, and Zexion found warm, strong arms tugging him close, and he was cradled against a muscled chest.
"I can't." Demyx said breathlessly, and there was a small hint of tears in his voice. "I can't just let you leave without knowing what will happen to you, and it's just too much for me to...to… I can't bear the thought of missing another chance, because what if after summer is too late-"
Later, Zexion couldn't explain his reasoning. He only knew that the frantic words spilling from Demyx's mouth were echoing and resounding painfully within the confines of his chest, and he needed to stop them before his heart twisted out of his chest. So when he pulled back from the hug to catch Demyx's face with his hands, it was only instinct and a furious sort of need that drove him.
He kissed Demyx.
It was a simple, soft press of lips against lips for a second, almost-but-not-quite settling into something more.
It was over too soon.
Zexion searched Demyx's face anxiously. For a sign, for anything. All he got was a blank, flushed look, and wide, wide green-blue eyes followed by tons of stammering and generally incomprehensible sentences. Once more he took his blonde roommate's face with his hands, trying to calm him down. After several minutes of just random psycho-babble, Demyx just stared at him. Silently.
Swallowing hard, the lilac-haired man lowered his eyes, searching for something to say. This was why he didn't speak….
Tanned hands came up to stroke the skin of his cheek, tilting his face up again. Demyx was smiling.
"I love you," Zexion whispered, cobalt eyes locked on his face.
A laugh, another kiss, followed by another, and three more, the spaces filled with breathless laughter.
"I love you too."
So began the summer.
* * * * *
Chapter 9....
Pairing: Zemyx
Disclaimer: KH = NOT MINE.
Dedications: to
prettypixiechan. Because she is my lovely beta. All other mistakes are my own. Rating: PG-13
Summary: When Demyx goes to college, he wants to learn and get his degree. He doesn't want to have a roommate who refuses to speak, a drifter who decides to live in his room, or fall in love. Too bad what Demyx wants is not what Demyx gets.
Chapter 1 : Chapter 2 : Chapter 3 : Chapter 4 : Chapter 5 : Chapter 6 : Chapter 7 : Chapter 8 : Chapter 9
* * * * * *
Demyx unlocked their door and walked inside, smiling absently at the uncluttered room. It was good to be home again. Classes would start in a couple of days, there would be frantic book-buying tomorrow, but for right now, now it was just time to breathe a relax for a day. But there was something wrong.
He frowned and looked closely at the room. What was different?
And then it hit him.
The couch, which had served as Axel's bed for almost four months by that point, wasn't covered in blankets and clothes like it had been. In fact, the pile of clothing that was Axel's that used to be in the corner was completely….
Gone.
It…wasn't supposed to be gone.
Demyx's eyes were drawn to his desk, where a single key rested, one that opened the door to their room.
A terrible, rushing pounding noise filled Demyx's ears.
Axel….
Zexion had told him. Perhaps not in so many words, since the lilac-haired man couldn't speak, but still. Zexion had told him what was going on when Demyx refused to believe it.
Axel had left.
No explanation had been given, no note, just a sudden vanishing of clutter and warmth. Axel had left, and their room was uncomfortably large and lonely without his almost-constant presence. Demyx unconsciously looked for a flame-red mass of spikes whenever they were out, praying like he had when Axel had shown up again that the lean man would come back.
If he heard the silent pleas, Axel never came back.
Axel had left.
Left, and so much had left with him.
There was no more fiery tang of metal in the air. No more movie nights where four or more people would end up in a tangled pile of limbs like a group of snuggling puppies and one of them was always too bony and comfortably warm. No quiet and not-so-quiet sniping back and forth between a certain redhead and either Zexion or Roxas.
…Roxas…
Demyx could almost feel Roxas tearing to pieces.
It was a subtle thing, Roxas's breaking. Unless you had seen him, comfortable and bantering around Axel, there wasn't anything different. Except for something tighter around the blonde's eyes, the way his mouth seemed set in a permanent frown. The tension in his shoulders. The bitterness that laced every comment, made them all taste like foul, slow-killing poison.
Sora's tears every time he looked at Roxas.
"You were so happy," he would say, as if saying that would help him get better. "So very happy, Roxas…"
Roxas slept in their room a couple of nights every week.
Both Zexion and Demyx pretended they didn't see his red eyes and salt-crusted eyelashes every morning. It wasn't their place to tell him to get over Axel's sudden departure. Not when Demyx was also hurt by it. But the musician should have expected it. Should have seen it coming.
He should have, and he kept beating himself up over it. He should have seen it coming from miles away, further than that. After all, it was Axel. Axel the vagabond, who never stayed anywhere for longer than two weeks but had stuck around for four months here. Axel the wanderer, who always wondered what was over the next hill, beyond the horizon.
Who had just left.
Axel, who – as cliché as it sounded – had taken Roxas's heart with him.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Everything felt like it had been rubbed raw and bleeding. The group's interactions were strained, missing a spark, and all of them were afraid of saying something that would set that closed-down scowl on Roxas's face. All because Axel had left.
Zexion hated him.
No one person should be able to cause so much pain and confusion.
The inconsiderate bastard had even tried to hide the fact that he was leaving.
"Don't worry about it, Dem. I slipped at work today and got burned, that's all." And Axel had smiled, laughed it off.
Lied.
Lied through his teeth.
Zexion had known. When he had come in earlier, he had seen the bandage over his un-tattooed cheek and he had known. They had started to argue in the strange way they had, hissing and tapping noises from the slate-haired man and yelling from the redhead, and finally, finally Zexion had just written it down on paper.
"Coward."
And Axel hadn't denied it, just bit his lip and glared, hissing softly about how he knew that, but he had to leave anyway. Because he just had to know what was out there, he had to get out, get going, just leave.
Zexion hated him.
Because that's exactly what he had done.
Just…left.
But slowly, oh so slowly, things were getting better.
The space where Axel had been was still blank and shadowed in hurt, but a day finally came where Larxene remembered something Axel had done and it made everyone laugh. Demyx blinked, looked around the group and laughed again. They were healing. Not forgetting, but slowly accepting the loss.
Even Roxas had laughed, though his eyes were glass-pane flat and cold.
Months later, the redhead was remembered with an exasperated sort of fondness, and everyone had gotten used to the fragile pain that lingered around Roxas and Demyx. The two blondes, Zexion knew, were sad for different reasons. Demyx, because Axel was a friend and he felt guilty about not seeing that Axel was going to leave. Roxas, because Roxas was in love and had been betrayed.
He wasn't going to get over that any time soon.
But still.
Life moved on.
The days plodded on, schoolwork swarmed over the group of students, and they kept going. Things were good, but all was not fixed.
Zexion still couldn't speak in front of people. He didn't know why, but it never felt like the right time to show Demyx that he could talk again. Late at night, he spoke to himself, reading passages from books, making sure he remembered how to properly pronounce words. The strange, oppressive pressure that had clogged his throat during the winter break came back, almost painful and chocking.
He wondered how he had managed to not speak for so long.
Every day was a battle against his impulses, the overwhelming want to speak to Demyx warring against his habitual silence. He wanted to erase the sad look in Demyx's green-blue eyes, but he couldn't find a way to do it. It was killing him, and he had never thought himself one to use such overdramatic language. But there was a twisting sort of agony in his chest that could not be ignored.
How had he managed?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Demyx blinked curiously down at the tickets on his desk.
It wasn't like he was going to refuse them (because really, they were tickets to go see André Rieu), but he didn't know who they had come from. And there were two of them. So who had left them, and who wanted to go with him?
Turning to Zexion, who was sitting quietly at his desk, Demyx asked him if he had seen anyone leave the tickets there.
Zexion paused then shook his head.
There was another pause before Demyx wondered out loud who wanted him to go, plopping down heavily into his chair, tapping his foot on the side of the desk.
A slight touch on his shoulder, and Demyx looked up to see his pale roommate standing behind him. Slight tingeing his cheeks and ears a light rose, a faint blush rushed across Zexion's face as he pointed to himself.
The blonde blinked, asked if Zexion wanted to come along.
Nodding slightly, Zexion's hands wavered for a second before reaching out to grab the tickets, passing one to Demyx and holding the other one carefully between his fingers.
Okay, now there was no way Demyx wasn't going.
Because it was basically a date. With Zexion.
And Demyx didn't even really have to ask him.
It was a few weeks before the concert (and really, how did that person even get the tickets this close? They had been sold out for months. Demyx knew. He had checked.), but no matter who he asked, no one knew who had bought them, and Zexion, usually very aware of who entered their room, had no idea who had left them on his desk. Demyx knew that something was up. Sure, he may not be the most observant of people, but still. When things all lined up like this, it was quite obvious.
Obviously, he had…no idea.
Maybe someone would tell him eventually….
Knowing his friends though, he would be kept in the dark for a long, long time.
He waited anxiously for the day of the concert, though the closer it got, the more nervous he was. It eventually reached the point where he was running down the hall to Sora's room, thrusting approximately fifteen outfits at the theater major and insisting that he help Demyx choose an outfit.
Roxas kicked him out of the room after the first three.
Finally, dressed in a pair of pinstriped black pants and a royal blue dress shirt that he had spent hours agonizing over –he was turning into such a girl-, Demyx met Zexion to go see André Rieu.
The concert was amazing. The lights, the sounds, the waltzes. Demyx only hoped that whenever he played music, he looked half as happy as André did.
At the first shimmering strains of violins (André had laughed, laughed and said that he couldn't keep people from dancing when this song played), Demyx quivered in his seat, leaning forward and focusing his entire existence on the notes that were to follow. He could feel Zexion's curious gaze on him, but the rest of the orchestra had joined in.
And the Blue Danube Waltz had begun.
The music swirled and ran around him, lifting him up and singing inside him until he could no longer take it. Demyx stood up, smiled down at Zexion, and pulled the pale man up to dance. Wide cobalt eyes stared up at him –his roommate was actually quite small, he kept forgetting that- as the blonde started to gently ease him into a waltz. After a couple of bars of stepping on each other's feet, Zexion sighed, and switched their hands, taking the lead.
Demyx laughed and danced, Zexion's body warm against his own.
He could see something like a smile on pale lips, and he realized in a flash of not-quite-melancholy that this is what he needed to let Axel go.
Closeness.
Movement.
It was over too soon.
Demyx focused on getting them home, feeling the beginnings of exhaustion creeping up on him. Carefully, carefully he drove home, laughing every few seconds from remembered joy, and they made it back to the dorms just in time for a wave of dizziness to wash over the blonde musician.
He let himself be helped up to the room, still chortling madly, even though his mind couldn't focus enough to do much more.
And he had the crazy feeling that he was talking, murmuring half-formed sentences to the person he was leaning on. Demyx didn't quite understand what was happening, but then Zexion's face swam into focus through the blur of shadows and colors his world had become. Reaching out, his hands tapped and patted Zexion's cheek gently.
The blonde slurred out a sentence, trying to focus on his roommate's face, and instead settling on a happy, exhausted grin in his general direction. Feeling numbness sweep over his mind, Demyx let himself be maneuvered underneath his blankets.
And as he settled into sleep, he thought he heard a soft voice reply:
"I know."
Demyx woke up the next morning in a sweat.
What the hell had he said last night?
His dreams had been filled with swirling words, impressions that flung themselves against him and drained away within minutes. With one hand he rubbed his forehead; the other clenched tightly in his sheets. What had happened? What had he said?
"I love you, you know?"
Blinking, he focused, trying hard to come up with what had happened before that whispered sentence.
And all he could remember was Zexion's face, and a single, almost-silent reply.
"I know."
Demyx started swearing.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Zexion decided that his blonde roommate had been contaminated by Axel's bad habits.
Because really, where else would Demyx learn those words?
Sitting at his desk, idly watching the sunlight stream through the window, the pale man's thoughts scattered easily. Had he really spoken to Demyx? Just two words, perhaps, and said when there was almost no chance of Demyx realizing that it wasn't simply a dream, but it was still a step forward.
He was getting closer.
It was now just a matter of time.
Two weeks later, Zexion was once again sitting at his desk, futilely trying to pay attention to his work.
His eyes tracked over to see Demyx sitting on the couch, looking for all the world like he'd just rather be back in bed. A pencil was shoved behind one ear, legs crossed underneath a book and a piece of paper. And Demyx was chewing on his lip, his eyes almost crossing with the amount he was concentrating. His eyes were tired –which was a surprise, because Demyx had an endless store of energy- and his hands were moving slowly across the paper, one finger tracing the words he was reading as his lips formed the sounds silently. The blonde yawned, stretching backwards and twisting from side to side to wake up muscles that had relaxed.
Then, by some coincidence or just plain bad luck, he slipped off the couch.
Zexion wasn't quite sure what it was, perhaps the squeaking noise Demyx made when he hit the ground, or the pouting, offended glare he gave the couch (as though it was the couch's fault he had fallen), or maybe just the fact that it had happened so quickly. Or maybe it was none of it.
But Zexion looked at Demyx, red-faced and sitting on the floor and utterly embarrassed, and laughed.
And that was the beginning.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Zexion sighed and looked around the room. The walls were too white, and the window was large, but seemed too small. The floor was tile and cold and there was nothing in the way of clutter except for boxes. There was no sign of the life and vitality that had been in this room only a few days ago. It was time to go home.
Summer was beginning.
Once more he sighed before turning to face the other person in the room with him.
Sea-blue eyes watched him anxiously as their owner shifted from foot to foot. Biting his lip, Demyx murmured, "I'm going to miss you, Zexy…"
The pale man nodded in reply, the habit of years hard to break even now.
"Call me?"
A smile flitting across his angular face, Zexion nods again.
"Promise? Every week, remember?"
There was a slightly fond sigh and the English major reached over to put his hand on Demyx's shoulder. It was a reassuring gesture, and he could feel the tension melting underneath his sensitive fingertips. For his efforts, he received a sunny smile.
And with that, he turned to go, backpack swaying on his shoulders.
The door closed behind him.
For a second he stood there, wondering: Was that it? Was that all there was going to be - silence, nothing said, nothing explained?
He didn't even make it to the stairs right outside their room before the door slammed open behind him and Demyx rushed out. The blonde spotted him, and didn't stop, just barreled straight into him, and Zexion found warm, strong arms tugging him close, and he was cradled against a muscled chest.
"I can't." Demyx said breathlessly, and there was a small hint of tears in his voice. "I can't just let you leave without knowing what will happen to you, and it's just too much for me to...to… I can't bear the thought of missing another chance, because what if after summer is too late-"
Later, Zexion couldn't explain his reasoning. He only knew that the frantic words spilling from Demyx's mouth were echoing and resounding painfully within the confines of his chest, and he needed to stop them before his heart twisted out of his chest. So when he pulled back from the hug to catch Demyx's face with his hands, it was only instinct and a furious sort of need that drove him.
He kissed Demyx.
It was a simple, soft press of lips against lips for a second, almost-but-not-quite settling into something more.
It was over too soon.
Zexion searched Demyx's face anxiously. For a sign, for anything. All he got was a blank, flushed look, and wide, wide green-blue eyes followed by tons of stammering and generally incomprehensible sentences. Once more he took his blonde roommate's face with his hands, trying to calm him down. After several minutes of just random psycho-babble, Demyx just stared at him. Silently.
Swallowing hard, the lilac-haired man lowered his eyes, searching for something to say. This was why he didn't speak….
Tanned hands came up to stroke the skin of his cheek, tilting his face up again. Demyx was smiling.
"I love you," Zexion whispered, cobalt eyes locked on his face.
A laugh, another kiss, followed by another, and three more, the spaces filled with breathless laughter.
"I love you too."
So began the summer.
* * * * *
Chapter 9....
