Demyx's POV
'Barely any pressure and I fall to pieces. So very typical of me. I really am useless. They have every reason to want rid of me. Why I haven't been disposed of is inexplicable. It's unacceptable. I do wish they would just get it over with. I would hate to have to do it myself.'
I reread the entry and went numb.
"Zexion," I whispered. I heard the door close behind me.
"Demyx?"
I spun around and saw that the aforementioned had entered. I was caught. And though I had no right to my knowledge, I felt compelled to ask.
"What is this Zexion?" I braced myself. I was sure he would be angry with me.
He froze. Then slowly he walked over and took the journal from my loose grasp.
"You weren't meant to see that," He said quietly. "No one was."
"I don't care, I did see it." I stared at him, his face was white.
"What?" he snapped.
"Why?" I inquired solemnly.
"You have no idea." He responded.
I felt the edge of his words, but I continued.
"Maybe not," I countered. "But I want to understand."
"Impossible."
"I can try, damn it!" My voice was cracking. I took a breath. "It sounded like a suicide note."
"Because it nearly was." His reactions were so calm.
"Why?!" I repeated.
"Why do you need to know?" His eyes were cold. He turned away from me. I felt so small.
"You never let anyone in!" I protested.
"That's just me."
"But you don't have to be like that!"
"I do."
"What is wrong with you?" I pleaded. My cheeks burned with tension.
Zexion brought himself to face me.
"Did you ever stop to think, it might be you?"
"Me?" I hesitated.
"Now get out."
I tried to. My legs wouldn't take me.
But that look in his eyes…
"Zexion," I didn't want to believe, I couldn't. "No, I can't…"