A/N: Gah, just another two-shot from me! Please R&R! If you don't plan on doing that, then don't bother reading!
Zexion
We were sixteen. Sixteen. He didn't deserve to be in the state he was in then, and still is in. It's wrong, unfair, unruly and unsettling. His hair is no longer it's shiny, dirty blonde colour, but more of a greasy dark blonde due to the hospital's cheap shampoo. The hospital gown that covers his limp body is so wrong and out of place that it scares me; it makes his tanned skin look sickly and pale.
His eyelids don't even flicker when I speak to him, no movement under the thin skin over his eyes that is practically black from the circles. Years of sleep have caused his body to go into complete shutdown, and the skin hangs off his bones like paper, his lips in a constant 'O' shape as his jaw hangs limp with no control.
In the past eight years, not one part of him has ever moved, not one scan or test has shown signs of him recovering. And yet, despite the tears that come to my eyes every time I walk into that hospital room, I can't seem to bring myself to allow the doctors to turn that life support off.
Every time I see him, a massive urge and will to let him be at peace takes over my mind and body, my senses go numb and my eyes water as I think of his beautiful smiling face, the bright Aqua eyes that haven't seen light in eight years begging me to let him rest. Every day the nurses ask me if I'm certain I want him to be put through this, and as I go to say 'No, turn it off,' another feeling takes over, and the previous image of him begging me to let him rest changes to a similar one, only he's begging me to let him live, begging me to just wait.
And the promise that he makes in that image makes me clench my teeth and shake my head furiously. Then I'll slip into the same routine that I've been doing for the past eight years; walking into the room and then grasping his hand tightly.
Only today is different from all those other days. I don't want my Demyx to suffer anymore, but at the same time I want to give him a few more years to be given the chance to recover. I walk into the hospital, my head held high as I sit in the chair and wait for the nurse to come over again. The beeping of the machine makes me twitch, and in a flash of a second the entire reason that caused him to be here flashed through my mind.
"Demyx, seriously, keep your eyes on the road!" I hissed, wincing as he almost hit a deer on the foggy, misty road. Poor Bambi ran into the field next to us quickly, eyes wide at his near death experience. Mere seconds later and a car had come out of nowhere, heading straight for us on the same lane.
"Holy shit, Ah!" Demyx shouted loudly into the car as he tried to swerve but found that the car opposite had swerved in the same direction. We hit the car head on, and in a moment that could only be described as pure fear, the airbags came up and smashed the two of us in the face, along with the window and pieces of flying metal. But that wasn't the worst of it. The person in the other car had left their vehicle seconds later, and the metal flash of a gun caught my eye. I looked over at Demyx, but he was unconscious, blood trickling down his face from a wound in his head. I heard the gun shoot twice; feeling one of the bullets hitting my leg, and the other hit the limp body next to me, and then all went black.
I shuddered at the memory, recalling how strange the aftermath was. The doctors claimed that no bullet was found in Demyx or my leg, and no wounds were actually on us from a gun. Simply the wounds sustained from the crash. The same day they told me that Demyx was likely to never wake up. I still pay the bills for his home, despite the fact that the place hasn't been entered in eight full years. Absolutely no one has entered. I sometimes wince at the thought of what it must look like on the inside now it's deteriorated somewhat.
"Mr Numara?" The pretty nurse walks over to me, the same old clipboard in her hand, and the same pink bow in her hair as the day when I first saw Demyx in that bed. The only difference is that her hair is a tad darker, her face a little thinner.
She goes through procedures with me, and I leave the hospital with tear tracks down my face, and the hospital's word that should Demyx not wake up in six years, then the life support is allowed to be turned off.
I can no longer go back there.
Six years later
Nurse Aerith walked slowly through the halls of the hospital. In three minutes the clock would strike ten am, and she would be forced to turn off the life support machine for her very first patient. It had been her first day when the blonde, mulleted male had been brought in, in a comatose state. The hospital had been extremely busy that day due to the shooting of another male, and Aerith wondered that if the Hospital hadn't been so busy, then the blonde just might not be sleeping in that bed at this moment.
His boyfriend had waited vigilantly by his side for eight years. Aerith had watched as the eight years of grieving and waiting for the blonde to wake up ate away at the purple haired male, and his body had deteriorated along with his boyfriends.
And now, six years on from the exact date that Zexion Numara had left the hospital for the last time, Aerith was about to pull the plug on Demyx Fishers life. Tears were stinging her own eyes as she opened the door to the empty room, sad that the boy would have to die alone. Not that he was a boy anymore, but a man of thirty years old. No numbers were saved for Zexion Numara, as he didn't want to be informed of Demyx's death, but instead wanted to hope that the Blonde would survive and one day find him.
Slowly approaching the bed in the centre of the room, her hands were clutching the clipboard tightly as a doctor followed her in to switch the machine off. The certificate in her hand had the time of death down as exactly ten am, and when the clock tower bell outside struck the hour, Aerith nodded to the doctor.
The machine was turned off in less a second.
And in ten, full seconds later, Aerith gasped.
For the first time in 14 years, Demyx's aqua eyes flickered open.