![[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: "Looks all clear," Demyx announces, the words buzzing his ears.
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 5...
* * *
Denying Won't Do It
* * *
He wakes to sunlight in his eyes, blanket half-cast off his frame, hand hanging off the bed. His mind is aching and tender, but it is whole, the image of a lotus fading as the light grows. Sitting up, clutching his blanket to his chilled skin, Demyx blinks around the room. He tries to reconcile the throbbing of his thoughts with the relative calm surrounding him.
Work. He has work.
And a run to go on.
Limbs shaking slightly, he slowly levers himself from the bed. His clothes are sticking to his skin (god, he forgot to even change after he got home) and Demyx decides to forgo his run in favor of taking a shower. He slowly makes his way along the wall to the bathroom, feeling weak the entire time. Somehow, he manages to stumble inside and strip off his clothes before stepping under the spray, hissing slightly as the slowly warming water hits him.
As the water pounds down on him (and his skin felt so grimey as his clothes were removed), he thinks hard about the lingering remants of his dream.
It started out as a nightmare, he remembers. He was scared, and everything hurt and there was never any escape. It isn't a new dream. He never excapes. Never gets free. But this time....
He was saved.
Water streams around him, warm and soothing, and he bows his head under the spray, rivulets running into his mouth and nostrils as he just focuses on breathing. Slowly, his muscles start to go loose, letting go of the imprints of concrete and sheets, back-alleys and his own bed. He leans against the slick tiles in front of him, eyes closed. Slowly, he reassembles what he remembers of the dream. The lotus. Made of sigils and glowing lines. A safe haven from fear and pain. (The lotus is still bright behind his eyes, and it's beautiful and now resonates Zexion.)
His own mental image of Zexion saved him from a nightmare.
What the hell, he thinks, tinges of disbelief waking around the corners of his bruised mind as he stands there. I can handle myself. I don't need... saving or some shit like that. Doesn't matter how nice he feels. I've handled it for this long, I can keep going.
But still he remembers how safe he felt and how warm the lotus petals were around him, and he wants to go back. Cursing silently, Demyx shuts off the water and leaves the shower, movements sharp with irritation. He ignores the rumbling of his stomach in favor of heading to work once he's dressed, grabbing a coat only because he knows that he'll regret it later if he doesn't.
The air outside is bitingly cold, sharp pinpricks of sensation on his skin a drastic contrast to the relative warmth of his apartment. Demyx ducks his head into the collar of his jacket, hands tucked inside pockets, and he breathes heavily for a bit. His still-wet hair is probably frozen, he realizes, and he probably should turn around and call Axel for a ride but he keeps walking. Bright and sudden bursts of people, the hum of their ambient presence, flow around him, and Demyx hates them all at this moment. They don't have to deal with this. They're lucky, because empathy is nothing like they expect, and no one would believe him at all anyway if he tried to tell them. They don't have to deal with this pain.
Pavement streams by him. He keeps his head down, glaring at the unoffending grey slabs because he doesn't want to deal with people, and he has to work, and the bar was supposed to help, why does he feel worse?
Walking to the hospital only succeeds in tiring out his already exhausted body, and his mind is still buzzing hotly as he finally reaches the large building and walks inside. The rumbling and low-key buzz that constantly pervades the building is strangely reassuring in comparison to outside, because here, here he knows he can at least be useful. (Here, Axel doesn't have to look at him like he's everything disappointing in the world.)
He doesn't lean against the wall as he's waiting for an elevator this time, but it's a near thing, weariness pressing hard on him as the lights ding and the doors slide open. Demyx closes his eyes as the elevator takes him up to the children's ward. The world spins disorientingly around him. Little digs and flashes of people go by, and he leaves the elevator with a small sigh of relief.
Lexaeus only grunts at him when he picks up his shift clipboard and gestures at him to get a move on. He does so with alacrity, heading for the rooms to check on kids without a pause. Typical stuff. Changing IVs, checking pulse rates, doing followups and delivering food, and it keeps Demyx busy until after lunch, where his stomach rumbles again and he realizes that he hasn't eaten in too long again. He heads down to the cafeteria and stomachs their food (cafeterias are always terrible, worse in hospitals, worst at high schools, and really, the smell of pre-processed food shouldn't make him want to hide in a corner and pretend that he doesn't exist).
The walls blur again as he's heading back to work. Demyx knows that he's been putting it off, but...
But the last name on his checkboard is Sora's, and he can't keep avoiding a patient just because he doesn't want to see Zexion. (Doesn't want to see Zexion because what if he's wrong and he does need him, but he shouldn't, but what if he does, what then.)
He turns down the hallways without paying attention to where he's going, staring sightlessly at the floor as he attempts to turn off his mind. Dimly, he reaches out, stretching tired mental fingers towards the rooms as he passes them. There are the drugged slides of children, and there-. Demyx stops.
A now familiar stream of comforting emotion pools around him; Demyx looks up to meet Zexion's eyes and has to suffocate the panic and relief that he feels. Zexion shouldn't be able to affect him like this, he thinks, and all of him feels sick, shaky. His eyes dart to the floor
He can see Zexion tilt his head to the side and concern pools around him. "Demyx? Are you feeling well?"
"Yeah." But he feels like sitting down and not moving for a week or so. "Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry. I was.... Um."
"Long day yesterday?"
Demyx nods. "Yeah. Rough long day."
Zexion snorts out a laugh that turns into a groan. Demyx looks up again in time to see Zexion rub his hand against his face, and for the first time, he notices how tired Zexion looks, circles dark and heavy beneath his eyes. "There have been too many of those."
"Tell me about it." Demyx straightens from his slightly hunched posture with a hiss and nods at Sora's door. "Ready to go in?"
Without really waiting for the pale man's assent (he can feel Zexion's anticipation swirl around him), Demyx swings open the door, a smile already on his lips. Sora sits upright on the bed, color back in his cheeks, and he's eyeing the door like he can taste freedom.
"DEMYX!! Can I go home yet? I'm tired, and I wanna see Griever, and Riku, and Dad and everyone else, please oh PLEASE can I go home?" Sora demands, pouting and wriggling as though it will get his tests done faster.
Demyx laughs as he walks over to start checking up on him. "Calm down, Sora! Let me check everying first!" He starts up the tests, poking and prodding Sora while the young boy prattles on about his day to Zexion. All the tests are coming up good, and he feels a hollow dread echo in him.
Sora is healthy again.
"Looks all clear," Demyx announces, the words buzzing his ears. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth as he keeps checking over Sora's charts and readings, selfish parts of him wanting them to change, because Zexion won't stay anymore if Sora leaves. "You can probably call your parents and have him get released today."
Relief washes over him from Zexion, and when Demyx turns to look at him, Zexion has his eyes closed. His shoulders are slumped slightly, all of the tension of the past two weeks drained. With a small sigh, Zexion shakes himself, straightens. The relief tightens back inside Zexion -and Demyx misses it with a sharp desperation (god, misses it so much, how is he going to survive without this for the rest of his life)- with barely a nod.
"I'll call them right now." And with that, Zexion slides out of the room, pulling his phone from his pocket as he does.
Demyx watches him leave. His body longs to follow Zexion, to press against him, twine their minds together, never let him go, but he resists, shaking his head and turning back to Sora, who is watching him with too serious eyes.
Sora twists his blanket between his fingers for a second before looking up at Demyx again. "Do you like him?"
"...What?" Demyx blinks, confused by the muddle of sadness and love bleeding from Sora.
"Zexy. Do you like him?"
Demyx sits down on the edge of the bed and strokes a hand through Sora's hair, tousling the soft spikes. "Well of course I do. Your brother's a great guy, isn't he?" he laughs softly, ignores the painful squeeze his chest gives because he does like Zexion, and Sora doesn't need to know that it's mostly because Zexion is so still for his hurting mind.
Sora nods seriously, mouth set in a moue of discontent. "I don't know if Zexy likes people. I like him and he likes me, but he doesn't like a lot of people. He doesn't like Riku, and I like Riku, and I want him to like you because I like you."
"Hey, maybe Zexion's just picky, you know?" Demyx sighs, stands again. "Don't worry about it, okay? Just go home and get better. Play with Riku again."
"OH YEAH! Riku! He'll be so mad! I beat Empire Souls last night!"
Demyx laughs and chats with Sora enthusiastically about his game until the door opens again and Zexion nods at Demyx. "They're on their way. Can I get started on the paperwork?"
"Yeah, of course. I'll go get that for you." He tries to suffocate the sinking feeling that is overtaking him as he leaves the room. Damn it, this morning he decided that he doesn't need Zexion! He decided that, and he's sticking to it - no matter how much his mind wishes he wouldn't. Demyx grabs the outpatient paperwork angrily, crinkling the paper enough that he has to pause and try to smooth it out.
He feels Lexaeus before he sees him. "Irritating family?" the large man grunts, working on his own charts at the main desk.
Demyx sighs slightly and shakes his head. "Not really. I'm just. Long day. I'm trying to not snap at them for something that's not their fault."
Lexaeus pins him with a glance, and Demyx shifts awkwardly under his concern. "You need to be sleeping better, Demyx. We can all spot the symptoms of exhaustion, and I'm fairly certain that most of the nurses have a betting pool for when you're going to collapse in the middle of a shift."
"...it's not interfering with my work yet," Demyx replies softly after a moment's thought. "I've been trying to sleep, but it doesn't always-" He stops when Lexaeus holds up a hand.
"I know. Just try, alright?"
Demyx nods, the papers finally straight enough for him to run away. God he hates people in times like this. They all think they know what's best for him. What the fuck do they know? They aren't empaths. They have no fucking clue what he goes through.
As he turns a corner, though, he realizes that he's being uncharitable. Of course they have no idea. He's the only one, and they will think he's crazy if he says anything. Demyx sighs as he opens the door to Sora's room again but he pastes on a smile and offers the paperwork to Zexion. "I'm just going to finish up a few things, like taking his IV out, okay?"
Zexion hums agreement, crossing his legs in the uncomfortable hospital chairs, eyes already darting through the papers.
Rolling his eyes, Demyx gets started on removing Sora from the equipment. Sora babbles eagerly about what he is going to do the second he gets home, and his eyes dart from Demyx to Zexion to the door, obviously waiting for his parents to show up. It's barely a few minutes before-
"DADDY!"
Demyx turns around curiously, Sora practically vibrating on the bed beside him, feeling the reverberation of steel enter the room. The tall, stern faced man from Sora's mind just enters the room, smiles faintly at Sora and reaches out to brush Zexion reassuringly on the shoulder as he strides forward, reaching the bedside in only a few steps. His emotions are tightly reigned in, but they release a subtle hum of relief and joy.
"...See if we leave you alone again," the tall brunet murmurs quietly. Sora pouts, but it's lost almost immediately in the wake of his joy, shining like a sunburst in Demyx's periphery. The man turns to Demyx, silvery eyes flickering over his frame quickly. "You're Demyx, right?"
Demyx blinks, nods. "Y-Yeah, that's me."
"Thanks," the man says softly as he inclines his head towards Demyx, and...
...And that appears to be it, Sora's father turning back to the small child without any other words, just checking out the paperwork still left once Zexion passes it to him and quietly chiding Sora when he tries to get out of the bed.
There's a rustle of movement behind him, a swirl of amusement, and Demyx turns around as Zexion says, "Sorry, that's just... That's Dad for you. He's not much one for talking."
Demyx looks over at his shoulder and sighs. "I can tell."
Zexion laughs softly (and Demyx smiles in response, because the bubbling burst of happiness that Zexion really feels is gorgeous and wonderful, and he just has to smile too). "I'm fairly certain that he meant 'thank you for all the help you gave my sons,' but I don't want to put words in his mouth."
"No, you got it pretty much right," comes another voice. Demyx starts because he hasn't felt anyone new show up, and yet here is a slight blonde man, and a ... well-endowed woman beside him. "Leon, here, gets all silent and broody when he's any kind of emotional other than frustrated."
The woman snorts, flips her hair out of her face. "Please, Cloud, he makes much more noise than that during other kinds of emotions."
"I said frustration, Tifa." Cloud smiles wickedly. "I didn't specify which kind."
"Cloud, be quiet, and that goes for you too, Tifa," Zexion hisses, face flushing at the same time that Demyx feels the crash of embarrassment. "That is far more information than I require."
Leon sighs from his position where he's trying to help Sora get dressed. "It's more information than he should be saying in front of a kid, Cloud. Can it already."
There's a loud whirlwind of laughter and clothes and paperwork, and before Demyx really knows what's going on, Zexion is the last one in the room besides him, and Sora's voice is already fading down the hallway.
Demyx rubs his arm awkwardly, looking at Zexion's shoulder rather than his face. Silence stretches between them. Demyx's mind is whirling, is trying to come up with something, anything to say, and he feels the uncertainty bleeding from Zexion too, underlined with a bit of regret. What is he supposed to do?
Finally, Zexion coughs. Demyx jerks his eyes up to look at him, meeting a cobalt stare. "Thank you, Demyx. For your assistance these past weeks. It meant a lot to Sora and me."
"I-It was nothing. Really." Demyx waves a hand, bites his lips. "I liked helping you. Besides, isn't that what I'm supposed to do? Help people? I am a nurse!" He laughs nervously, fidgets, what is he supposed to do? Gratitude pushes against him in something like a friendly nudge, and he holds himself back from reaching out and grabbing it, river-smooth and wonderful, and he can stand people around Zexion, but not without him.
(Maybe he can't...)
"It wasn't nothing for us," Zexion says quietly, and Demyx's eyes flick back up to meet his again, skittish. "You helped... more than you can imagine." He offers his hand to shake. "Thank you."
Demyx looks between Zexion's face and his hand for a few moments before he reaches out, slides his palm into Zexion's, guards his mind slightly from entering Zexion's, but god, he loves just being this close to such smooth feelings. They rumble underneath Demyx's hand, and he can feel the shifting text-forms of Zexion's thoughts pressing against his skin, wanting to get it, to be heard. But all Demyx chooses to impart is a general sense of "You're welcome."
Zexion withdraws his hand.
"I'll... W-well, hopefully I won't see you again, right?" Demyx laughs nervously, rubs his hand discreetly behind his back. "I mean, I do, but I don't. Um."
With a small smile, Zexion nods. "Hopefully when we see each other, it won't be in the hospital."
"Yeah." Demyx swallows. "Yeah, that."
Zexion hesitates in the door, looking back at Demyx with a small furrow between his eyebrows. Demyx's heart pounds in his throat (and he wants Zexion to say it, say anything he likes, oh please, just let him stay), but... But Zexion only smiles slightly, nods, and leaves, footsteps echoing down the long hallway.
For a time, all is quiet. Demyx sags against the hospital bed, feeling the retreating waves of Zexion's emotions slowly disappate. He waits until the only noise is the soft background rumble the hospital is usually full of before he leaves the room, walking slowly to the window. He catches a glimpse of Leon and Cloud and Tifa as they get into their car, sees Sora being put into the back seat (and the kid already looks like he's about to fall asleep, despite his fidgeting).
Demyx looks out of the window, watching Zexion stride out into the cold, his long jacket billowing in the wind. A hollow, dreading sensation echoes within him. He wants to run outside, call Zexion back and keep him near always. (The last time he has been so well for so many days in a row had been years ago, and he wants to know what it is about Zexion that makes him smooth and unhurting.)
(Because maybe he can't do this on his own.)
Pressing his hands against the cold window, Demyx yearns. His fingers are leaving vapor outlines on the glass, and for a half second, he expects it to melt and let him through. When it doesn’t, he sighs, leaning harder into the window, towards Zexion. It feels like a line is cast from his mind, straining and stretching for Zexion. But the feeling is only mental, and the thread is formless, insubstantial, and Demyx never knows if it ever reaches him.
(But Zexion turns around and looks up at him, and that will have to be enough.)
* * * * * *
Tada! Sixth Chapter!
DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT, YES I KNOW IT'S NANO, I JUST WANTED TO POST THIS BEFORE I WENT CRAZY.
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: "Looks all clear," Demyx announces, the words buzzing his ears.
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 5...
* * *
Denying Won't Do It
* * *
He wakes to sunlight in his eyes, blanket half-cast off his frame, hand hanging off the bed. His mind is aching and tender, but it is whole, the image of a lotus fading as the light grows. Sitting up, clutching his blanket to his chilled skin, Demyx blinks around the room. He tries to reconcile the throbbing of his thoughts with the relative calm surrounding him.
Work. He has work.
And a run to go on.
Limbs shaking slightly, he slowly levers himself from the bed. His clothes are sticking to his skin (god, he forgot to even change after he got home) and Demyx decides to forgo his run in favor of taking a shower. He slowly makes his way along the wall to the bathroom, feeling weak the entire time. Somehow, he manages to stumble inside and strip off his clothes before stepping under the spray, hissing slightly as the slowly warming water hits him.
As the water pounds down on him (and his skin felt so grimey as his clothes were removed), he thinks hard about the lingering remants of his dream.
It started out as a nightmare, he remembers. He was scared, and everything hurt and there was never any escape. It isn't a new dream. He never excapes. Never gets free. But this time....
He was saved.
Water streams around him, warm and soothing, and he bows his head under the spray, rivulets running into his mouth and nostrils as he just focuses on breathing. Slowly, his muscles start to go loose, letting go of the imprints of concrete and sheets, back-alleys and his own bed. He leans against the slick tiles in front of him, eyes closed. Slowly, he reassembles what he remembers of the dream. The lotus. Made of sigils and glowing lines. A safe haven from fear and pain. (The lotus is still bright behind his eyes, and it's beautiful and now resonates Zexion.)
His own mental image of Zexion saved him from a nightmare.
What the hell, he thinks, tinges of disbelief waking around the corners of his bruised mind as he stands there. I can handle myself. I don't need... saving or some shit like that. Doesn't matter how nice he feels. I've handled it for this long, I can keep going.
But still he remembers how safe he felt and how warm the lotus petals were around him, and he wants to go back. Cursing silently, Demyx shuts off the water and leaves the shower, movements sharp with irritation. He ignores the rumbling of his stomach in favor of heading to work once he's dressed, grabbing a coat only because he knows that he'll regret it later if he doesn't.
The air outside is bitingly cold, sharp pinpricks of sensation on his skin a drastic contrast to the relative warmth of his apartment. Demyx ducks his head into the collar of his jacket, hands tucked inside pockets, and he breathes heavily for a bit. His still-wet hair is probably frozen, he realizes, and he probably should turn around and call Axel for a ride but he keeps walking. Bright and sudden bursts of people, the hum of their ambient presence, flow around him, and Demyx hates them all at this moment. They don't have to deal with this. They're lucky, because empathy is nothing like they expect, and no one would believe him at all anyway if he tried to tell them. They don't have to deal with this pain.
Pavement streams by him. He keeps his head down, glaring at the unoffending grey slabs because he doesn't want to deal with people, and he has to work, and the bar was supposed to help, why does he feel worse?
Walking to the hospital only succeeds in tiring out his already exhausted body, and his mind is still buzzing hotly as he finally reaches the large building and walks inside. The rumbling and low-key buzz that constantly pervades the building is strangely reassuring in comparison to outside, because here, here he knows he can at least be useful. (Here, Axel doesn't have to look at him like he's everything disappointing in the world.)
He doesn't lean against the wall as he's waiting for an elevator this time, but it's a near thing, weariness pressing hard on him as the lights ding and the doors slide open. Demyx closes his eyes as the elevator takes him up to the children's ward. The world spins disorientingly around him. Little digs and flashes of people go by, and he leaves the elevator with a small sigh of relief.
Lexaeus only grunts at him when he picks up his shift clipboard and gestures at him to get a move on. He does so with alacrity, heading for the rooms to check on kids without a pause. Typical stuff. Changing IVs, checking pulse rates, doing followups and delivering food, and it keeps Demyx busy until after lunch, where his stomach rumbles again and he realizes that he hasn't eaten in too long again. He heads down to the cafeteria and stomachs their food (cafeterias are always terrible, worse in hospitals, worst at high schools, and really, the smell of pre-processed food shouldn't make him want to hide in a corner and pretend that he doesn't exist).
The walls blur again as he's heading back to work. Demyx knows that he's been putting it off, but...
But the last name on his checkboard is Sora's, and he can't keep avoiding a patient just because he doesn't want to see Zexion. (Doesn't want to see Zexion because what if he's wrong and he does need him, but he shouldn't, but what if he does, what then.)
He turns down the hallways without paying attention to where he's going, staring sightlessly at the floor as he attempts to turn off his mind. Dimly, he reaches out, stretching tired mental fingers towards the rooms as he passes them. There are the drugged slides of children, and there-. Demyx stops.
A now familiar stream of comforting emotion pools around him; Demyx looks up to meet Zexion's eyes and has to suffocate the panic and relief that he feels. Zexion shouldn't be able to affect him like this, he thinks, and all of him feels sick, shaky. His eyes dart to the floor
He can see Zexion tilt his head to the side and concern pools around him. "Demyx? Are you feeling well?"
"Yeah." But he feels like sitting down and not moving for a week or so. "Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry. I was.... Um."
"Long day yesterday?"
Demyx nods. "Yeah. Rough long day."
Zexion snorts out a laugh that turns into a groan. Demyx looks up again in time to see Zexion rub his hand against his face, and for the first time, he notices how tired Zexion looks, circles dark and heavy beneath his eyes. "There have been too many of those."
"Tell me about it." Demyx straightens from his slightly hunched posture with a hiss and nods at Sora's door. "Ready to go in?"
Without really waiting for the pale man's assent (he can feel Zexion's anticipation swirl around him), Demyx swings open the door, a smile already on his lips. Sora sits upright on the bed, color back in his cheeks, and he's eyeing the door like he can taste freedom.
"DEMYX!! Can I go home yet? I'm tired, and I wanna see Griever, and Riku, and Dad and everyone else, please oh PLEASE can I go home?" Sora demands, pouting and wriggling as though it will get his tests done faster.
Demyx laughs as he walks over to start checking up on him. "Calm down, Sora! Let me check everying first!" He starts up the tests, poking and prodding Sora while the young boy prattles on about his day to Zexion. All the tests are coming up good, and he feels a hollow dread echo in him.
Sora is healthy again.
"Looks all clear," Demyx announces, the words buzzing his ears. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth as he keeps checking over Sora's charts and readings, selfish parts of him wanting them to change, because Zexion won't stay anymore if Sora leaves. "You can probably call your parents and have him get released today."
Relief washes over him from Zexion, and when Demyx turns to look at him, Zexion has his eyes closed. His shoulders are slumped slightly, all of the tension of the past two weeks drained. With a small sigh, Zexion shakes himself, straightens. The relief tightens back inside Zexion -and Demyx misses it with a sharp desperation (god, misses it so much, how is he going to survive without this for the rest of his life)- with barely a nod.
"I'll call them right now." And with that, Zexion slides out of the room, pulling his phone from his pocket as he does.
Demyx watches him leave. His body longs to follow Zexion, to press against him, twine their minds together, never let him go, but he resists, shaking his head and turning back to Sora, who is watching him with too serious eyes.
Sora twists his blanket between his fingers for a second before looking up at Demyx again. "Do you like him?"
"...What?" Demyx blinks, confused by the muddle of sadness and love bleeding from Sora.
"Zexy. Do you like him?"
Demyx sits down on the edge of the bed and strokes a hand through Sora's hair, tousling the soft spikes. "Well of course I do. Your brother's a great guy, isn't he?" he laughs softly, ignores the painful squeeze his chest gives because he does like Zexion, and Sora doesn't need to know that it's mostly because Zexion is so still for his hurting mind.
Sora nods seriously, mouth set in a moue of discontent. "I don't know if Zexy likes people. I like him and he likes me, but he doesn't like a lot of people. He doesn't like Riku, and I like Riku, and I want him to like you because I like you."
"Hey, maybe Zexion's just picky, you know?" Demyx sighs, stands again. "Don't worry about it, okay? Just go home and get better. Play with Riku again."
"OH YEAH! Riku! He'll be so mad! I beat Empire Souls last night!"
Demyx laughs and chats with Sora enthusiastically about his game until the door opens again and Zexion nods at Demyx. "They're on their way. Can I get started on the paperwork?"
"Yeah, of course. I'll go get that for you." He tries to suffocate the sinking feeling that is overtaking him as he leaves the room. Damn it, this morning he decided that he doesn't need Zexion! He decided that, and he's sticking to it - no matter how much his mind wishes he wouldn't. Demyx grabs the outpatient paperwork angrily, crinkling the paper enough that he has to pause and try to smooth it out.
He feels Lexaeus before he sees him. "Irritating family?" the large man grunts, working on his own charts at the main desk.
Demyx sighs slightly and shakes his head. "Not really. I'm just. Long day. I'm trying to not snap at them for something that's not their fault."
Lexaeus pins him with a glance, and Demyx shifts awkwardly under his concern. "You need to be sleeping better, Demyx. We can all spot the symptoms of exhaustion, and I'm fairly certain that most of the nurses have a betting pool for when you're going to collapse in the middle of a shift."
"...it's not interfering with my work yet," Demyx replies softly after a moment's thought. "I've been trying to sleep, but it doesn't always-" He stops when Lexaeus holds up a hand.
"I know. Just try, alright?"
Demyx nods, the papers finally straight enough for him to run away. God he hates people in times like this. They all think they know what's best for him. What the fuck do they know? They aren't empaths. They have no fucking clue what he goes through.
As he turns a corner, though, he realizes that he's being uncharitable. Of course they have no idea. He's the only one, and they will think he's crazy if he says anything. Demyx sighs as he opens the door to Sora's room again but he pastes on a smile and offers the paperwork to Zexion. "I'm just going to finish up a few things, like taking his IV out, okay?"
Zexion hums agreement, crossing his legs in the uncomfortable hospital chairs, eyes already darting through the papers.
Rolling his eyes, Demyx gets started on removing Sora from the equipment. Sora babbles eagerly about what he is going to do the second he gets home, and his eyes dart from Demyx to Zexion to the door, obviously waiting for his parents to show up. It's barely a few minutes before-
"DADDY!"
Demyx turns around curiously, Sora practically vibrating on the bed beside him, feeling the reverberation of steel enter the room. The tall, stern faced man from Sora's mind just enters the room, smiles faintly at Sora and reaches out to brush Zexion reassuringly on the shoulder as he strides forward, reaching the bedside in only a few steps. His emotions are tightly reigned in, but they release a subtle hum of relief and joy.
"...See if we leave you alone again," the tall brunet murmurs quietly. Sora pouts, but it's lost almost immediately in the wake of his joy, shining like a sunburst in Demyx's periphery. The man turns to Demyx, silvery eyes flickering over his frame quickly. "You're Demyx, right?"
Demyx blinks, nods. "Y-Yeah, that's me."
"Thanks," the man says softly as he inclines his head towards Demyx, and...
...And that appears to be it, Sora's father turning back to the small child without any other words, just checking out the paperwork still left once Zexion passes it to him and quietly chiding Sora when he tries to get out of the bed.
There's a rustle of movement behind him, a swirl of amusement, and Demyx turns around as Zexion says, "Sorry, that's just... That's Dad for you. He's not much one for talking."
Demyx looks over at his shoulder and sighs. "I can tell."
Zexion laughs softly (and Demyx smiles in response, because the bubbling burst of happiness that Zexion really feels is gorgeous and wonderful, and he just has to smile too). "I'm fairly certain that he meant 'thank you for all the help you gave my sons,' but I don't want to put words in his mouth."
"No, you got it pretty much right," comes another voice. Demyx starts because he hasn't felt anyone new show up, and yet here is a slight blonde man, and a ... well-endowed woman beside him. "Leon, here, gets all silent and broody when he's any kind of emotional other than frustrated."
The woman snorts, flips her hair out of her face. "Please, Cloud, he makes much more noise than that during other kinds of emotions."
"I said frustration, Tifa." Cloud smiles wickedly. "I didn't specify which kind."
"Cloud, be quiet, and that goes for you too, Tifa," Zexion hisses, face flushing at the same time that Demyx feels the crash of embarrassment. "That is far more information than I require."
Leon sighs from his position where he's trying to help Sora get dressed. "It's more information than he should be saying in front of a kid, Cloud. Can it already."
There's a loud whirlwind of laughter and clothes and paperwork, and before Demyx really knows what's going on, Zexion is the last one in the room besides him, and Sora's voice is already fading down the hallway.
Demyx rubs his arm awkwardly, looking at Zexion's shoulder rather than his face. Silence stretches between them. Demyx's mind is whirling, is trying to come up with something, anything to say, and he feels the uncertainty bleeding from Zexion too, underlined with a bit of regret. What is he supposed to do?
Finally, Zexion coughs. Demyx jerks his eyes up to look at him, meeting a cobalt stare. "Thank you, Demyx. For your assistance these past weeks. It meant a lot to Sora and me."
"I-It was nothing. Really." Demyx waves a hand, bites his lips. "I liked helping you. Besides, isn't that what I'm supposed to do? Help people? I am a nurse!" He laughs nervously, fidgets, what is he supposed to do? Gratitude pushes against him in something like a friendly nudge, and he holds himself back from reaching out and grabbing it, river-smooth and wonderful, and he can stand people around Zexion, but not without him.
(Maybe he can't...)
"It wasn't nothing for us," Zexion says quietly, and Demyx's eyes flick back up to meet his again, skittish. "You helped... more than you can imagine." He offers his hand to shake. "Thank you."
Demyx looks between Zexion's face and his hand for a few moments before he reaches out, slides his palm into Zexion's, guards his mind slightly from entering Zexion's, but god, he loves just being this close to such smooth feelings. They rumble underneath Demyx's hand, and he can feel the shifting text-forms of Zexion's thoughts pressing against his skin, wanting to get it, to be heard. But all Demyx chooses to impart is a general sense of "You're welcome."
Zexion withdraws his hand.
"I'll... W-well, hopefully I won't see you again, right?" Demyx laughs nervously, rubs his hand discreetly behind his back. "I mean, I do, but I don't. Um."
With a small smile, Zexion nods. "Hopefully when we see each other, it won't be in the hospital."
"Yeah." Demyx swallows. "Yeah, that."
Zexion hesitates in the door, looking back at Demyx with a small furrow between his eyebrows. Demyx's heart pounds in his throat (and he wants Zexion to say it, say anything he likes, oh please, just let him stay), but... But Zexion only smiles slightly, nods, and leaves, footsteps echoing down the long hallway.
For a time, all is quiet. Demyx sags against the hospital bed, feeling the retreating waves of Zexion's emotions slowly disappate. He waits until the only noise is the soft background rumble the hospital is usually full of before he leaves the room, walking slowly to the window. He catches a glimpse of Leon and Cloud and Tifa as they get into their car, sees Sora being put into the back seat (and the kid already looks like he's about to fall asleep, despite his fidgeting).
Demyx looks out of the window, watching Zexion stride out into the cold, his long jacket billowing in the wind. A hollow, dreading sensation echoes within him. He wants to run outside, call Zexion back and keep him near always. (The last time he has been so well for so many days in a row had been years ago, and he wants to know what it is about Zexion that makes him smooth and unhurting.)
(Because maybe he can't do this on his own.)
Pressing his hands against the cold window, Demyx yearns. His fingers are leaving vapor outlines on the glass, and for a half second, he expects it to melt and let him through. When it doesn’t, he sighs, leaning harder into the window, towards Zexion. It feels like a line is cast from his mind, straining and stretching for Zexion. But the feeling is only mental, and the thread is formless, insubstantial, and Demyx never knows if it ever reaches him.
(But Zexion turns around and looks up at him, and that will have to be enough.)
* * * * * *
Tada! Sixth Chapter!
DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT, YES I KNOW IT'S NANO, I JUST WANTED TO POST THIS BEFORE I WENT CRAZY.
