![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
zenellyTitle: The Twilight Between
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: NC-17
Summary: The thing that Demyx wants most in the world is a break from feeling the emotions of other people. He doesn't get that (in fact, it might be the opposite), but what he does get might actually be better. But either Zexion can save his sanity, or be the one thing to push him over the edge.
Chapter Summary: (The large group of sigils behind the floating, nonsensical letters morph into the shape of a flower, unfurling in waves of motion and crackling sounds, and it looks so familiar that it burns into his mind and all he sees is Zexion in a way that is too intuitive for words.)
Warnings: This fic contains dubious-consent at times, and severely distressed mental states at others. I will post warnings on specific chapters, so you know what you're getting into.
* * *
Chapter 1....
* * *
All of it Tastes Sweet
* * *
"You…would do that?"
Demyx tilts his head a little to his left and his eyes half-close leisurely, finding a strange sort of pleasure in feeling someone else's emotions so easily for once. "Why wouldn't I? I mean, he's your brother and visiting hours aren't up yet. Of course you should see him."
Blue eyes are shut tightly. A tide of gratitude and relief swamp him briefly before retreating as though suddenly and strictly reigned in. (Still they are there, lurking behind the pale, soft skin over Zexion's temples, and Demyx grasps out with his mind, feeling like he can touch them again, even as he runs into smooth, smooth walls surrounding that bright mind.)
"Thank you." The words are tight and whispered, and Demyx, pulling back within himself, gets the feeling that the serious young man doesn't say them all that often. In response, he smiles at Zexion, stepping towards the door.
"Don't mention it." As he hears Zexion stand up behind him, he continues. "No, really, don't mention it. I'll try and find out why they wouldn't let you in, but I'm sure they have their reasons and I'd really like not to be reprimanded for this." The door opens easily (Obviously. It's unlocked, after all) and he ushers Zexion inside the small, white, hospital room. (A bed against one side, tile over the floor, door leading to the outside, the soft hiss and buzz of the machines that are attached to the patients, and this man in the center of it all, like gravity.)
On the bed, a brown-haired boy struggles upright, blue eyes wide and wondering. The second he spots Zexion, the boy just lights up, a large smile stretching the skin of his lips. Demyx steps to the side and makes himself as unobtrusive as possible, busying himself with rearranging stock on the counter beside the boy's bed.
(It's a skill that he's learned over time, and it's possibly one of the most useful things he knows.)
"Sora," Zexion says, and Demyx has to close his eyes against the swelling of relief and love that flows from him. For all of the depth of emotion that he feels, only the slight relaxation around cobalt blue eyes and the minute upturn of Zexion's lips show it. Demyx, as he reopens his eyes to see these tender expressions, wonders how Zexion hides it all. (He knows from seeing other people's impressions of him that the only things he's good at hiding are pain and anger. Not everything. But it's enough, most days.)
(He notes distantly that his headache is gone as though it was never there, and that he feels…more normal than he has since childhood.)
"Hiya, Zexy! Didja miss me?" the boy (only about six or seven, Demyx notes as he checks the charts again) asks cheerfully, though his voice is ragged and hoarse and tired. Demyx can't help but smile at the vivacious glee and adoration Sora feels because of Zexion.
Zexion shakes his head, seemingly stern. "I can't believe you got yourself sick, Sora."
Sora only pouts, looking up at Zexion disbelievingly. "I'm fiiine!" he whines, squirming in his bed so much Demyx is almost afraid he'll fall out. The boy begins coughing wildly, covering his mouth with his hands ineffectually. After a few terrifyingly harsh coughs, he subsides, laying back against his pillows weakly.
"Fine. I'm sure." Zexion raises one eyebrow, crossing his arms. From his vantage point near the countertops, Demyx can see his fists, clenched hard against his sides in the fabric of his grey sweater. (He's wearing a grey sweater and jeans and tennis shoes, and Demyx has the sudden realization that he's never thought someone could be as attractive as Zexion is before.) "That's why you were just coughing like you were dying," he continues wryly.
Looking abashed, Sora stoutly nods, not giving up. "Yes. I was just trying to get the hair out of me. Like how Griever does at home."
Demyx stifles his laugh as he gets the fuzzy image of a grey and white cat, fluffy and large, hacking up a fur ball. His entertainment fades in a second as another picture -this one of a stern looking brown-haired man sitting in a chair, petting the cat as he reads- floods into his head. The image is accompanied by a wave of homesickness, and Demyx watches Sora hide it bravely, putting up a front for his brother.
"Griever is a cat. You are not."
"I could be."
Zexion sighs a little, but his exasperation is contradicted by the relieved curve of his lips. "But you're not."
"…no, I'm not," Sora agrees sadly, looking at his lap morosely. After a second, he brightens up, turning to Demyx. "Hey, hey, hey, can you turn me into a cat he- whoa your hair looks like a COCKATOO!"
Turning from the counter towards the bed with a smile, Demyx leans in to stage-whisper at the boy, "I don't know if they can turn you into a cat, but they've started turning me into a bird!" and he begins to mime bird-walking, clucking and folding his arms into wings to hear Sora laugh, although the boy's laughs are hard and rasping. As he pecks his way around the room, he catches Zexion's eyes, and they are wide and blue and smiling.
(Zexion's gratitude reaches out and hugs him gently, thankfully. Demyx almost loses track of what he's doing in the sweet contemplation of such a soft emotion.)
And he laughs himself, straightening up and walking back over to Sora's bed. "No, seriously, you'll be fine. They'll let you out in about two weeks or so, from what it says on your charts. How in the world did you get pneumonia, anyway?"
"He spent the night at a friend's house," Zexion says caustically. Demyx shakes his head against the disapproval that he feels emanating from the other man, his smile still in place. "He got it the next few days. I told you that boy was a bad influence on you!" he continues to Sora, a frown creasing his brow.
Sora somehow manages to pout while still grinning, which is impressive for anyone (much less a kid), whining, "But Zexy! I like Riku! He's my bestest friend!"
"It's his fault that you're sick now!" and Zexion sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose with one hand. "I'll have to talk to Dad about this."
"Noooooo! Don't tell Dad! He already doesn't like Riku's family because of his dad!" Sora starts tearing up, blue eyes impossibly wide and glistening and he begins coughing harshly, curling in over himself, the distress tightening his throat. "I," cough cough, "wanna," cough, "be Ri-," cough, "ku's friend…"
Almost immediately, Zexion looks worried, taking a half step forward. "Hey, don't get upset…. I just…" he sighs roughly, "alright, I won't talk to Dad. I'll have to tell him that you got sick while over at Riku's, but nothing else, okay?"
Coughing weakly for a second more, Sora nods and falls back, pale and weary against his sheets.
Demyx puts down the clipboard to do his routine tests, checking the messy haired boy's blood pressure and heart rate and fixing a new IV for him. "Hey, no worries. Just rest up, and you'll be out of here in no time."
"But I'm bored!" Sora murmurs hoarsely, light voice cracking in odd places. "I wanna do something!"
Demyx sends a questioning look over at Zexion, trying to keep Zexion from thinking too much (worry and guilt and depression are converging on him, and Demyx feels the unwarranted need to make sure that Zexion doesn't get lost in those dark thoughts). Zexion answers after a pause, his swamping and flooding emotions held in check behind his eyes. "He's very active, normally."
"Ah," Demyx says delicately, continuing with his examining. "Well, you seem like you're in pretty good shape. I'll try and see what I can do to get something in here for you, okay? Some video games or something."
Immediately, Zexion sighs and Sora brightens up. "Do you have Empire Souls? I can ask for my memory card and then I can finish the game! Finally! Won't Riku be jealous," he says half to himself, smiling at his hands. "He wanted to beat it before me, but that won't happen now!"
"Ah, I'll see what I can do," Demyx laughs, "but you need to rest, okay? You're going to be very tired for the next few days, anyway."
Weakly, as though movement is getting harder for him, Sora looks at Zexion, his curiosity insistent against the edges of Demyx's mind. "Does that mean…" the boy yawns in the middle, blinking sleepily before continuing, "that I don't have to go to school?"
Zexion shakes his head, the corners of his lips tilting up in a near-invisible half-smile. "Yes, Sora, that means you don't have to go to school."
"Awesome," Sora murmurs, turning slightly on his side, his eyes drifting further closed.
A beep comes from the pocket of Zexion's jeans, and he digs out a cell phone, checking the screen. After only a bare second, he looks up again, stepping across the small distance to stand next to Sora's bed. Zexion reaches down, touching Sora's cheek with infinite gentleness. "I have to go now. Dad wants to talk and visiting hours are almost up."
"Okay." Sora snuggles further into the bedding, eyes only half open. "Love you, Zexy" he yawns.
"You too, brat," Zexion replies. "See you soon."
Despite his words, Demyx notices that Zexion seems reluctant to leave the room. He stops every few feet to look at Sora, and his worry is evident in his stance. Demyx treads over to the pale man, smiling reassuringly (and marveling that, for once, the smile doesn't seem hard or fake inside his skin). "Hey, if you want me to, I'll keep an eye on him while I'm on shift. You know, check in on him often and make sure he's okay."
Gratitude floods Zexion's blue, blue eyes when he looks up at Demyx and he nods. "That would be…I would really appreciate that."
"It's not a problem," Demyx assures, reaching out to place a friendly hand on Zexion's shoulder.
And his thumb brushes against the bare, pale wing of Zexion's collarbone.
(Smooth, his mind registers in the brief moment it has before it's completely overwhelmed.)
A whirlwind envelops him, text-based and white and ripping. He sees the same severe-looking man and another -blond and shorter, face also hardened but somehow softer around the edges. Worry, yellow and sickly green, a handprint on otherwise blank and empty colors, spreads, forming the image of Sora and it is laced with blue for some reason. (Words are flying at him constantly, thoughts that pass too quickly for him to understand. He reaches out to touch them-)
-and they stop, the noise of invisible rustling pages almost deafening. (It seems like Zexion thinks in words, not pictures, and Demyx only sees emotions in them as colors and this is amazing, why has he never seen someone else's mind like this before?) Studying the letters curiously once the clamor ceases, he takes a step forward. The sigils draw themselves up into intricate shapes away from him and begin glowing palely, colorlessly, their patterns shifting and incomprehensible. He gets the feeling that they are curious about his presence here, are wary and unused to this sort of intrusion.
But still they extend appreciation towards him, and the colors that have been there don't lessen. A few of the letters pulled away from their fellows, threading over to hover in his reach. He trails his fingers in them, and the tips of his fingers warm up, turning pink with the heat.
(The large group of sigils behind the floating, nonsensical letters morph into the shape of a flower, unfurling in waves of motion and crackling sounds, and it looks so familiar that it burns into his mind and all he sees is Zexion in a way that is too intuitive for words.)
"Thank you," he hears Zexion say as the other shifts back so his thumb no longer touched Zexion's skin, and the words are written in blue in front of him, glowing gratitude and relief and a multitude of things that are subtle and nuanced and personal and he marvels at this (this is knowing how someone thinks, he's seeing Zexion's very mind) before he gets pulled back between his eyes and he can see Zexion again, pale and luminescent and watching him with warm, dark eyes.
Demyx blinks briefly and smiles at him, slightly shaken. (He can still see the flower, sinking and large behind his eyes.) "Y-yeah, you're welcome."
The man nods, his hair falling with the movement, and he finally pulls away from Demyx's hand completely. The last of the words, which had clung to the edges of his vision, fell away. With a single glance back at the sleepy Sora, Zexion sighs and leaves the room.
'You know, he's right,' Demyx hears distantly, the voice sounding like Zexion's. 'His hair does look like a cockatoo.'
A laugh is startled out of him, and he covers his mouth quickly, smiling into his palm. Turning around, he sighs kindly at Sora, struggling to stay awake for a few minutes longer. He walks over, places his hand on Sora's forehead, is startled by how rough the sleepy child is. But even with the jagged edges resting against his palm, he is not hurt, a glass pane of protection hovering between him and the sharpness.
He pushes tiredness through his hand, willing Sora to sleep and rest. With only a few more tired blinks, the brown-haired boy gives in, sighing as he settles into the pillows. His eyes flutter shut and soon he is sleeping heavily. Demyx tilts his head curiously as he brushes Sora's hair back, threading comfort into the boy's hidden nervousness and sending him into a deeper sleep. He hadn't known that Sora was scared of sleeping alone. With a shrug (he can do nothing more here), he checks the IV again and leaves, turning off the light as he does.
As he half-closes the door to Sora's room, he feels a vibration against his hip. And another. Demyx reaches down to his pocket and pulls out his phone, smiling again when he sees Axel's name across the screen. Flipping open his phone, he holds it up to his ear and answers.
"Hey there, Axel! What's up?"
He hears an irritated sigh coming from the other line, and he grins easily as he walks down the hallway, wondering absently which direction Zexion went. "Don't try to change the subject, Dem. How are you?"
"First, there wasn't a subject to change, and second, I'm fine, Axel, really, I am. I had a headache earlier, but I'm doing much better now."
There is a disbelieving silence.
"I'm telling the truth."
"Really." It isn't a question, and Demyx flinches slightly, feeling a pang of guilt hit him. Has he really been acting that odd recently? (What worries him most is that he can't really remember….)
With a sigh, he replies, "Yes, really. I'm…actually, I don't have a headache at all anymore, come to think of it." The surprise he feels is evident in his voice, and he places a hand on his forehead, expecting the pulsating pain to reform at any moment.
"Come to think of… How do you just…did you take any medication for it?" Axel asks finally after cutting himself off twice, and Demyx can hear him shift the phone onto his shoulder with a small grunt.
"No. That's the weird part. It just … went away."
Axel grunts again, and Demyx wanders over to the window, listening to his friend huff in irritation at something. "Without you taking any Tylenol? I'm sorry, but your headaches don't just 'go away', Dem," he finally says.
Demyx looks out over the parking lot of the hospital, humming noncommittally. "I know they don't, but this one did. And it was getting to be a pretty bad one too. And then…" He stops.
And then he saw Zexion.
And his headache vanished.
"And then…?"
Shaking his head, Demyx refocuses on the window glass in front of him, pressing warm fingertips to the cold, clear glass. "I took care of a few patients and by the time you called, it was over. Like it had never been there. I'm not sure why."
"That's odd."
Demyx nods a little, looking down at the small figure of a man walking across the snowy parking lot, long black jacket flapping in the wind. "It really is. I'm not complaining, but I'd like to know why."
(Below him, Zexion turns around to look at the hospital for a second before he gets into a small black car, leaving the parking lot almost reluctantly.)
(Immediately, Demyx wants him back, wants him to turn the car around and come back upstairs so they can talk and watch over Sora as he sleeps and so he can feel the same sort of relaxed lack of strain around him.)
"…Dem?"
Snapping back to focus, Demyx shakes his head to clear it. "What?"
He can hear Axel's worry in the cuts and clicks of his consonants –and really, the other man worries too much sometimes–, "You okay? You spaced on me there."
"Y-yeah, I'm fine. Sorry, just got a little distracted."
In the small, resigned silence that follows, Demyx knows that Axel does not believe him. It is par for course when dealing with him, and Demyx has just learned to live with that fact, as sad as it could be. (And really, what sort of world is it when your own best friend doesn't believe anything you say any more? (More importantly, what does it say about him?))
"What in the world did you get distracted by?" Axel sighs; Demyx can hear him shake his head. Just as he's about to answer, Axel barrels on, probably waving a hand manically. "Never mind, it probably doesn't matter. So, what are you doing tonight?"
Demyx rolls his eyes fondly, shouldering his cell phone and sticking a hand into his scrubs pocket, feeling the seams of the corners and bottoms with soft-touching fingertips. "Nothing really."
"Demyx…," Axel warns, a slight growl in his voice.
"I'm not lying! I promise, I'm not doing anything!"
Axel huffs slightly. "Anything at all?"
Shifting his shoulders under the scratchy fabric of his scrubs, Demyx replies reassuringly, "Look, I'm planning on going home, having a really nice warm dinner, and then I'm going to bed. It's been a long day, and I'm tired."
"Are you going to actually eat and sleep?" Axel questions harshly. Demyx winces slightly at the tone of his voice. Almost immediately, Axel softens, apologizing by continuing with, "You haven't eaten well for days. Or slept, for that matter. Don't think I don't know."
An almost painful swelling of gratitude fills him, and Demyx smiles at the fingerprints he's leaving on the glass with his free hand. This is one of the moments where knowing that Axel cares so much is a good thing. (When he's too far away to feel, his mind supplies, and he quickly silences it.) "I'm hungry today, Axel. I'm going to eat real food for once, and then I'm going to bed so I can wake up for my run tomorrow."
"And you're not going anywhere?"
Laughing a little, the blonde nurse shakes his head. His friend is repeating himself again, and he's already been away from his shift too long for the second time that day. It is time to stop the conversation, no matter how much he (sort of) enjoys Axel's fussing. "I'm not going anywhere, I promise! I'm just going to go home, grab something to eat, and go to bed, alright? I have to go now; Lexaeus is probably looking for me again. Alright, night, Axel."
Demyx is surprised to find out as he hangs up the phone - cutting Axel's worried voice off-, that for once he actually means it.
* * *
Chapter 3...
Pairing: Zemyx
Disclaimer: KH = NOT MINE.
Dedications: to
prettypixiechan. Because she is my lovely beta. All other mistakes are my own.Rating: NC-17
Summary: The thing that Demyx wants most in the world is a break from feeling the emotions of other people. He doesn't get that (in fact, it might be the opposite), but what he does get might actually be better. But either Zexion can save his sanity, or be the one thing to push him over the edge.
Chapter Summary: (The large group of sigils behind the floating, nonsensical letters morph into the shape of a flower, unfurling in waves of motion and crackling sounds, and it looks so familiar that it burns into his mind and all he sees is Zexion in a way that is too intuitive for words.)
Warnings: This fic contains dubious-consent at times, and severely distressed mental states at others. I will post warnings on specific chapters, so you know what you're getting into.
* * *
Chapter 1....
* * *
All of it Tastes Sweet
* * *
"You…would do that?"
Demyx tilts his head a little to his left and his eyes half-close leisurely, finding a strange sort of pleasure in feeling someone else's emotions so easily for once. "Why wouldn't I? I mean, he's your brother and visiting hours aren't up yet. Of course you should see him."
Blue eyes are shut tightly. A tide of gratitude and relief swamp him briefly before retreating as though suddenly and strictly reigned in. (Still they are there, lurking behind the pale, soft skin over Zexion's temples, and Demyx grasps out with his mind, feeling like he can touch them again, even as he runs into smooth, smooth walls surrounding that bright mind.)
"Thank you." The words are tight and whispered, and Demyx, pulling back within himself, gets the feeling that the serious young man doesn't say them all that often. In response, he smiles at Zexion, stepping towards the door.
"Don't mention it." As he hears Zexion stand up behind him, he continues. "No, really, don't mention it. I'll try and find out why they wouldn't let you in, but I'm sure they have their reasons and I'd really like not to be reprimanded for this." The door opens easily (Obviously. It's unlocked, after all) and he ushers Zexion inside the small, white, hospital room. (A bed against one side, tile over the floor, door leading to the outside, the soft hiss and buzz of the machines that are attached to the patients, and this man in the center of it all, like gravity.)
On the bed, a brown-haired boy struggles upright, blue eyes wide and wondering. The second he spots Zexion, the boy just lights up, a large smile stretching the skin of his lips. Demyx steps to the side and makes himself as unobtrusive as possible, busying himself with rearranging stock on the counter beside the boy's bed.
(It's a skill that he's learned over time, and it's possibly one of the most useful things he knows.)
"Sora," Zexion says, and Demyx has to close his eyes against the swelling of relief and love that flows from him. For all of the depth of emotion that he feels, only the slight relaxation around cobalt blue eyes and the minute upturn of Zexion's lips show it. Demyx, as he reopens his eyes to see these tender expressions, wonders how Zexion hides it all. (He knows from seeing other people's impressions of him that the only things he's good at hiding are pain and anger. Not everything. But it's enough, most days.)
(He notes distantly that his headache is gone as though it was never there, and that he feels…more normal than he has since childhood.)
"Hiya, Zexy! Didja miss me?" the boy (only about six or seven, Demyx notes as he checks the charts again) asks cheerfully, though his voice is ragged and hoarse and tired. Demyx can't help but smile at the vivacious glee and adoration Sora feels because of Zexion.
Zexion shakes his head, seemingly stern. "I can't believe you got yourself sick, Sora."
Sora only pouts, looking up at Zexion disbelievingly. "I'm fiiine!" he whines, squirming in his bed so much Demyx is almost afraid he'll fall out. The boy begins coughing wildly, covering his mouth with his hands ineffectually. After a few terrifyingly harsh coughs, he subsides, laying back against his pillows weakly.
"Fine. I'm sure." Zexion raises one eyebrow, crossing his arms. From his vantage point near the countertops, Demyx can see his fists, clenched hard against his sides in the fabric of his grey sweater. (He's wearing a grey sweater and jeans and tennis shoes, and Demyx has the sudden realization that he's never thought someone could be as attractive as Zexion is before.) "That's why you were just coughing like you were dying," he continues wryly.
Looking abashed, Sora stoutly nods, not giving up. "Yes. I was just trying to get the hair out of me. Like how Griever does at home."
Demyx stifles his laugh as he gets the fuzzy image of a grey and white cat, fluffy and large, hacking up a fur ball. His entertainment fades in a second as another picture -this one of a stern looking brown-haired man sitting in a chair, petting the cat as he reads- floods into his head. The image is accompanied by a wave of homesickness, and Demyx watches Sora hide it bravely, putting up a front for his brother.
"Griever is a cat. You are not."
"I could be."
Zexion sighs a little, but his exasperation is contradicted by the relieved curve of his lips. "But you're not."
"…no, I'm not," Sora agrees sadly, looking at his lap morosely. After a second, he brightens up, turning to Demyx. "Hey, hey, hey, can you turn me into a cat he- whoa your hair looks like a COCKATOO!"
Turning from the counter towards the bed with a smile, Demyx leans in to stage-whisper at the boy, "I don't know if they can turn you into a cat, but they've started turning me into a bird!" and he begins to mime bird-walking, clucking and folding his arms into wings to hear Sora laugh, although the boy's laughs are hard and rasping. As he pecks his way around the room, he catches Zexion's eyes, and they are wide and blue and smiling.
(Zexion's gratitude reaches out and hugs him gently, thankfully. Demyx almost loses track of what he's doing in the sweet contemplation of such a soft emotion.)
And he laughs himself, straightening up and walking back over to Sora's bed. "No, seriously, you'll be fine. They'll let you out in about two weeks or so, from what it says on your charts. How in the world did you get pneumonia, anyway?"
"He spent the night at a friend's house," Zexion says caustically. Demyx shakes his head against the disapproval that he feels emanating from the other man, his smile still in place. "He got it the next few days. I told you that boy was a bad influence on you!" he continues to Sora, a frown creasing his brow.
Sora somehow manages to pout while still grinning, which is impressive for anyone (much less a kid), whining, "But Zexy! I like Riku! He's my bestest friend!"
"It's his fault that you're sick now!" and Zexion sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose with one hand. "I'll have to talk to Dad about this."
"Noooooo! Don't tell Dad! He already doesn't like Riku's family because of his dad!" Sora starts tearing up, blue eyes impossibly wide and glistening and he begins coughing harshly, curling in over himself, the distress tightening his throat. "I," cough cough, "wanna," cough, "be Ri-," cough, "ku's friend…"
Almost immediately, Zexion looks worried, taking a half step forward. "Hey, don't get upset…. I just…" he sighs roughly, "alright, I won't talk to Dad. I'll have to tell him that you got sick while over at Riku's, but nothing else, okay?"
Coughing weakly for a second more, Sora nods and falls back, pale and weary against his sheets.
Demyx puts down the clipboard to do his routine tests, checking the messy haired boy's blood pressure and heart rate and fixing a new IV for him. "Hey, no worries. Just rest up, and you'll be out of here in no time."
"But I'm bored!" Sora murmurs hoarsely, light voice cracking in odd places. "I wanna do something!"
Demyx sends a questioning look over at Zexion, trying to keep Zexion from thinking too much (worry and guilt and depression are converging on him, and Demyx feels the unwarranted need to make sure that Zexion doesn't get lost in those dark thoughts). Zexion answers after a pause, his swamping and flooding emotions held in check behind his eyes. "He's very active, normally."
"Ah," Demyx says delicately, continuing with his examining. "Well, you seem like you're in pretty good shape. I'll try and see what I can do to get something in here for you, okay? Some video games or something."
Immediately, Zexion sighs and Sora brightens up. "Do you have Empire Souls? I can ask for my memory card and then I can finish the game! Finally! Won't Riku be jealous," he says half to himself, smiling at his hands. "He wanted to beat it before me, but that won't happen now!"
"Ah, I'll see what I can do," Demyx laughs, "but you need to rest, okay? You're going to be very tired for the next few days, anyway."
Weakly, as though movement is getting harder for him, Sora looks at Zexion, his curiosity insistent against the edges of Demyx's mind. "Does that mean…" the boy yawns in the middle, blinking sleepily before continuing, "that I don't have to go to school?"
Zexion shakes his head, the corners of his lips tilting up in a near-invisible half-smile. "Yes, Sora, that means you don't have to go to school."
"Awesome," Sora murmurs, turning slightly on his side, his eyes drifting further closed.
A beep comes from the pocket of Zexion's jeans, and he digs out a cell phone, checking the screen. After only a bare second, he looks up again, stepping across the small distance to stand next to Sora's bed. Zexion reaches down, touching Sora's cheek with infinite gentleness. "I have to go now. Dad wants to talk and visiting hours are almost up."
"Okay." Sora snuggles further into the bedding, eyes only half open. "Love you, Zexy" he yawns.
"You too, brat," Zexion replies. "See you soon."
Despite his words, Demyx notices that Zexion seems reluctant to leave the room. He stops every few feet to look at Sora, and his worry is evident in his stance. Demyx treads over to the pale man, smiling reassuringly (and marveling that, for once, the smile doesn't seem hard or fake inside his skin). "Hey, if you want me to, I'll keep an eye on him while I'm on shift. You know, check in on him often and make sure he's okay."
Gratitude floods Zexion's blue, blue eyes when he looks up at Demyx and he nods. "That would be…I would really appreciate that."
"It's not a problem," Demyx assures, reaching out to place a friendly hand on Zexion's shoulder.
And his thumb brushes against the bare, pale wing of Zexion's collarbone.
(Smooth, his mind registers in the brief moment it has before it's completely overwhelmed.)
A whirlwind envelops him, text-based and white and ripping. He sees the same severe-looking man and another -blond and shorter, face also hardened but somehow softer around the edges. Worry, yellow and sickly green, a handprint on otherwise blank and empty colors, spreads, forming the image of Sora and it is laced with blue for some reason. (Words are flying at him constantly, thoughts that pass too quickly for him to understand. He reaches out to touch them-)
-and they stop, the noise of invisible rustling pages almost deafening. (It seems like Zexion thinks in words, not pictures, and Demyx only sees emotions in them as colors and this is amazing, why has he never seen someone else's mind like this before?) Studying the letters curiously once the clamor ceases, he takes a step forward. The sigils draw themselves up into intricate shapes away from him and begin glowing palely, colorlessly, their patterns shifting and incomprehensible. He gets the feeling that they are curious about his presence here, are wary and unused to this sort of intrusion.
But still they extend appreciation towards him, and the colors that have been there don't lessen. A few of the letters pulled away from their fellows, threading over to hover in his reach. He trails his fingers in them, and the tips of his fingers warm up, turning pink with the heat.
(The large group of sigils behind the floating, nonsensical letters morph into the shape of a flower, unfurling in waves of motion and crackling sounds, and it looks so familiar that it burns into his mind and all he sees is Zexion in a way that is too intuitive for words.)
"Thank you," he hears Zexion say as the other shifts back so his thumb no longer touched Zexion's skin, and the words are written in blue in front of him, glowing gratitude and relief and a multitude of things that are subtle and nuanced and personal and he marvels at this (this is knowing how someone thinks, he's seeing Zexion's very mind) before he gets pulled back between his eyes and he can see Zexion again, pale and luminescent and watching him with warm, dark eyes.
Demyx blinks briefly and smiles at him, slightly shaken. (He can still see the flower, sinking and large behind his eyes.) "Y-yeah, you're welcome."
The man nods, his hair falling with the movement, and he finally pulls away from Demyx's hand completely. The last of the words, which had clung to the edges of his vision, fell away. With a single glance back at the sleepy Sora, Zexion sighs and leaves the room.
'You know, he's right,' Demyx hears distantly, the voice sounding like Zexion's. 'His hair does look like a cockatoo.'
A laugh is startled out of him, and he covers his mouth quickly, smiling into his palm. Turning around, he sighs kindly at Sora, struggling to stay awake for a few minutes longer. He walks over, places his hand on Sora's forehead, is startled by how rough the sleepy child is. But even with the jagged edges resting against his palm, he is not hurt, a glass pane of protection hovering between him and the sharpness.
He pushes tiredness through his hand, willing Sora to sleep and rest. With only a few more tired blinks, the brown-haired boy gives in, sighing as he settles into the pillows. His eyes flutter shut and soon he is sleeping heavily. Demyx tilts his head curiously as he brushes Sora's hair back, threading comfort into the boy's hidden nervousness and sending him into a deeper sleep. He hadn't known that Sora was scared of sleeping alone. With a shrug (he can do nothing more here), he checks the IV again and leaves, turning off the light as he does.
As he half-closes the door to Sora's room, he feels a vibration against his hip. And another. Demyx reaches down to his pocket and pulls out his phone, smiling again when he sees Axel's name across the screen. Flipping open his phone, he holds it up to his ear and answers.
"Hey there, Axel! What's up?"
He hears an irritated sigh coming from the other line, and he grins easily as he walks down the hallway, wondering absently which direction Zexion went. "Don't try to change the subject, Dem. How are you?"
"First, there wasn't a subject to change, and second, I'm fine, Axel, really, I am. I had a headache earlier, but I'm doing much better now."
There is a disbelieving silence.
"I'm telling the truth."
"Really." It isn't a question, and Demyx flinches slightly, feeling a pang of guilt hit him. Has he really been acting that odd recently? (What worries him most is that he can't really remember….)
With a sigh, he replies, "Yes, really. I'm…actually, I don't have a headache at all anymore, come to think of it." The surprise he feels is evident in his voice, and he places a hand on his forehead, expecting the pulsating pain to reform at any moment.
"Come to think of… How do you just…did you take any medication for it?" Axel asks finally after cutting himself off twice, and Demyx can hear him shift the phone onto his shoulder with a small grunt.
"No. That's the weird part. It just … went away."
Axel grunts again, and Demyx wanders over to the window, listening to his friend huff in irritation at something. "Without you taking any Tylenol? I'm sorry, but your headaches don't just 'go away', Dem," he finally says.
Demyx looks out over the parking lot of the hospital, humming noncommittally. "I know they don't, but this one did. And it was getting to be a pretty bad one too. And then…" He stops.
And then he saw Zexion.
And his headache vanished.
"And then…?"
Shaking his head, Demyx refocuses on the window glass in front of him, pressing warm fingertips to the cold, clear glass. "I took care of a few patients and by the time you called, it was over. Like it had never been there. I'm not sure why."
"That's odd."
Demyx nods a little, looking down at the small figure of a man walking across the snowy parking lot, long black jacket flapping in the wind. "It really is. I'm not complaining, but I'd like to know why."
(Below him, Zexion turns around to look at the hospital for a second before he gets into a small black car, leaving the parking lot almost reluctantly.)
(Immediately, Demyx wants him back, wants him to turn the car around and come back upstairs so they can talk and watch over Sora as he sleeps and so he can feel the same sort of relaxed lack of strain around him.)
"…Dem?"
Snapping back to focus, Demyx shakes his head to clear it. "What?"
He can hear Axel's worry in the cuts and clicks of his consonants –and really, the other man worries too much sometimes–, "You okay? You spaced on me there."
"Y-yeah, I'm fine. Sorry, just got a little distracted."
In the small, resigned silence that follows, Demyx knows that Axel does not believe him. It is par for course when dealing with him, and Demyx has just learned to live with that fact, as sad as it could be. (And really, what sort of world is it when your own best friend doesn't believe anything you say any more? (More importantly, what does it say about him?))
"What in the world did you get distracted by?" Axel sighs; Demyx can hear him shake his head. Just as he's about to answer, Axel barrels on, probably waving a hand manically. "Never mind, it probably doesn't matter. So, what are you doing tonight?"
Demyx rolls his eyes fondly, shouldering his cell phone and sticking a hand into his scrubs pocket, feeling the seams of the corners and bottoms with soft-touching fingertips. "Nothing really."
"Demyx…," Axel warns, a slight growl in his voice.
"I'm not lying! I promise, I'm not doing anything!"
Axel huffs slightly. "Anything at all?"
Shifting his shoulders under the scratchy fabric of his scrubs, Demyx replies reassuringly, "Look, I'm planning on going home, having a really nice warm dinner, and then I'm going to bed. It's been a long day, and I'm tired."
"Are you going to actually eat and sleep?" Axel questions harshly. Demyx winces slightly at the tone of his voice. Almost immediately, Axel softens, apologizing by continuing with, "You haven't eaten well for days. Or slept, for that matter. Don't think I don't know."
An almost painful swelling of gratitude fills him, and Demyx smiles at the fingerprints he's leaving on the glass with his free hand. This is one of the moments where knowing that Axel cares so much is a good thing. (When he's too far away to feel, his mind supplies, and he quickly silences it.) "I'm hungry today, Axel. I'm going to eat real food for once, and then I'm going to bed so I can wake up for my run tomorrow."
"And you're not going anywhere?"
Laughing a little, the blonde nurse shakes his head. His friend is repeating himself again, and he's already been away from his shift too long for the second time that day. It is time to stop the conversation, no matter how much he (sort of) enjoys Axel's fussing. "I'm not going anywhere, I promise! I'm just going to go home, grab something to eat, and go to bed, alright? I have to go now; Lexaeus is probably looking for me again. Alright, night, Axel."
Demyx is surprised to find out as he hangs up the phone - cutting Axel's worried voice off-, that for once he actually means it.
* * *
Chapter 3...
