Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts or any related characters. Though this piece does reference some real people, places, and other entities, it is purely a work of fiction and is not based on true events.

So yeah, trying something a little different. But you know, different is always good when it involves Demyx (heaven knows how sick I am of people writing him as a retard). And if it seems like he's a little dense in this story, it shall be explained why by the end of this chapter. So go ahead and dig in, and leave a review on your way out if you're feeling so kind. :)

Demyx filled the sanctuary with sound at the push of a few keys. His gaze was focused on reading the music, and he found the organ keys with his hands rather than with his eyes. A few people who could see him behind the organ console commented on how he was playing through the Doxology without his eyes ever leaving the page to direct his hands. A small smile lit his face as he played; there was just something so magical about the sound of the organ, even if the music itself was this boring. He let the heavy vibrations of the pipes carry him through to the end of the piece, at which point the small collection of churchgoers applauded his playing.

The deacon made his way to the center of the pulpit to speak and checked the microphone. "Very beautiful playing from a very talented young man," he commented before taking a more reflective tone. "It's very easy for us in the church to point out what is wrong in our community. But we can't forget to acknowledge the good as well. Please, allow this talented youth another round of applause." The audience clapped once again, making Demyx give a smile and nod of appreciation. "After over thirty-five years of service, our Brother Hutchins is retiring. When we sought to hire a replacement, we immediately thought of our own Demyx Walker to take his place. He has big shoes to fill, but with the guidance and support of the Lord on his side, I know he will achieve great things with his talents. This fine young man will be graduating next spring from the University of Memphis with a bachelor's degree in Applied Music for organ and a minor in Composition." He turned to the mohawked young man, keeping his face close to the mic. "Brother Walker, I believe I speak for all of us here today when I say welcome and congratulations." The audience clapped one more time with the conclusion of the speech and Demyx gave one more smile-and-nod combination to the deacon.

He scooted back from the console and placed his hand over his stomach, hoping it would settle the awkward, uneasy feeling it always got when he was in church. "Just two more services and I'm done for the morning," he said quietly to encourage himself. He had been waiting almost two years for this, ever since it was first rumored that Mr. Hutchins was retiring from the church music program. Demyx loved the idea of getting paid to do something he enjoyed, and even more than that, he loved playing the organ. So what was the problem?

Well, there were two. The first was that he was agnostic, yet he was being employed by a church. The second, also conflicting with his church membership, was the fact that he was more rainbow than a Care Bear stuffed with Skittles.

Yet somehow none of that mattered when he was playing. He loved playing the organ more than anything. It was such a unique instrument; not many other musical instruments could boast singularly using up a whole wall to accommodate all its parts. He wasn't in a church, but in his own world when sound was coming out of the pipes.

And it wasn't like he had much of a choice. Organ-playing wasn't the most common talent, so pretty much the only places for an organist to play outside occasional recitals were weddings, funerals, and church services. It wasn't his fault he was irresistibly drawn to the instrument.

Demyx perked up as he prepared to play again, this time for the collection of tithes and offerings. He turned to the right sheet music and flattened it out. "Now Thank We All Our God" by Sigfrid Karg-Elert. This one was a lot more fun to play, so that was a nice plus.

x

It was early in the evening and Demyx was pulling out of his parking space at the store, the back seat of his little blue Hyundai filled with bags of both marked-down fresh produce and cheap MSG-filled junk food. He was reaching back to find a bag of Snapea Crisps (one of the infamous unhealthy health foods, but he was hooked on the stuff) when a loud thump and a jerk of his car made him instinctively hit the brake. He looked in his rearview mirror to find a black truck right there by his back window.

"Damn it," he muttered, his chest already pounding in anticipation of the truck's owner being pretty pissed.

He put the car back in park and hopped out as the truck owner did the same. The man immediately started assessing the damage before he turned to scowl at Demyx.

Maybe he's not mad, Demyx thought hopefully, not recognizing the complete irritation in the man's face.

"What the hell?" the other man barked.

Definitely mad. Not good. He had to be really careful with this; he couldn't get another point on his driving record. "I'm so sorry. I was looking down and didn't even realize you were behind me. Please don't be mad."

"Don't be mad? Do you not see that?" There was a large dent in the side of the truck, Demyx could see that much, but it didn't exactly look like a bad thing to him. Of course, everyone knew dents and scratches were bad, but he didn't quite sympathize with the man.

He opted to look down and place his hand around the opposite elbow, biting his lip nervously. "I really am sorry. Could we please not have to get the police involved or anything?"

The young man's worrying seemed to lighten the mood of the other driver. "Alright, alright, maybe I'm overreacting. It's just a dent, right?" Demyx looked up at him, his ears focused. The man's tone had softened and seemed to be trying to calm him down. "But you know, I can't just let you get away with this scot-free."

"Oh." He didn't like the suggestion, it made it seem like he was going to have to really go out of his way to avoid the risk of a ticket. But still, the man's voice was... amused?

"I think if you buy me dinner, I'll call it even."

"What?" Was he serious? Is this guy trying to mooch off me or hit on me? Demyx thought. "For real?"

"Well, if that's a problem," he produced a little polygon out of his pocket, and Demyx realized it was a cell phone, "I can just ask my insurance agent who's rates are about to go up." Nonchalant, relaxed, cocky as hell. Complete contrast to the near snarl the man projected when he saw the dent in his truck.

"No, no! It's fine, really. That just kind of came out of nowhere."

"So tonight at seven, right?"

"Um, actually, I have to work tonight."

"Fine. Tomorrow then. But just to be sure, let me have your number."

"Um, it's-"

"Uh-uh, let me see your phone."

Demyx sighed, but figured it was best to cooperate. The man took the offered device and flipped it open, quickly going through the menus to find Demyx's number to add it to his own phone. When he seemed to be taking an unusually long time on the phones, Demyx peeked at the screen to find that the man was on his Facebook. "Hey, that is so rude, you can't just go on people's Facebook pages like that!" He tried to snatch the phone away, but the man quickly moved it from his reach.

"Demyx Walker. Well I can't have you giving me a fake name, can I?" He continued pressing buttons and glanced at the back of the younger man's car. "Mmhm... cobalt blue Hyundai Accent... RGY 691."

"Really? My license plate?"

"Just in case you don't show." He finally handed the phone back and added, "I put my number in your phone too, just so you can't say you don't know when I'm calling you."

Demyx looked at the new contact in his phone book. "Xigbar?"

"At your service."

"Okay. Seven o'clock tomorrow. Where?"

"I'm letting you choose the place. Just text me the address." He started to walk back to his truck door and get in. "And if we go anywhere with a drive-thru, the deal is off. Don't be late." He closed the door, leaving Demyx dumbfounded as he drove off.

That was... strange, to say the least. At least he wouldn't have to worry about getting a ticket. If he got another point on his record this year, they'd revoke his license for sure. He looked down at his phone screen to see that it was almost six. He gasped and shoved the mobile in his pocket. He had to play for the evening church service in an hour.

The evening service ran through its usual cycle of feel awkward, feel amazing, repeat. As a matter of fact, the feel awkward parts were less severe because his mind was elsewhere, stuck on that Xigbar guy's voice. I only caused a problem when his daydreaming let his eyes wander during the Karg-Elert piece and he looked down at his hands. The effects came immediately as he tripped up in the music. Fortunately, he had learned to resist the urge to stop when he messed up and knew to plant his eyes back on the page of music.

After the end of the service, he felt the need to apologize for that two-second train wreck. He approached the nearest church minister available at the time.

"I'm sorry about messing up so bad. I wasn't paying attention and I looked down and-"

"What are you talking about, Demyx?" It was the deacon; Demyx recognized his aged, gentle voice.

"During the offering. I messed up right after you got done telling everyone how good I was."

"Oh, that? Demyx, in the time we expect you to be playing for the church, you'll play for the offering a million times. There's no need to worry about your fingers slipping one time on your first day."

"O-okay. Well, then, I'll see you Tuesday."

"Have a blessed evening."

The next day passed without ceremony other than Demyx stressing over the fall semester starting in a few weeks, but that was beside the point. The most interesting thing going on that day was the dinner with Xigbar. He had no idea what to expect of having dinner with a complete stranger to avoid a ticket.

Well, scratch that, he did expect Xigbar to at least have the decency to be on time. He wasn't OCD about having people arrive the moment the clock ticked the appointed time, but come on! It was 7:27 already! As he sat in the restaurant waiting area, he was just about to call Xigbar to give him a piece of his mind when a man walked in and stared at him. The man had black hair and yellow eyes, and so did Xigbar, but Demyx didn't trust this to be reliable information regarding the man's appearance, so he opted to stare back at the person who just stepped in.

"Hello, anyone up there?" a rough voice asked as the man poked Demyx's forehead. Definitely Xigbar.

"Didn't recognize you."

"Come on, how could this face ever be forgettable? That hurts."

Demyx failed to take the complaint to heart at the ever-present sound of amusement in Xigbar's voice. You have no idea how forgettable everyone's face is, he thought. To me at least. "Maybe that's my way of getting you back for taking so long to get here."

"And I was just gonna tell you how touching it is to know you waited for me."

"Yeah, yeah, I almost left. I wasn't about to sit here and get stood up like a teenaged girl."

"You say that like we're on a date."

Demyx chose not to respond to Xigbar's teasing, as he was quicly learning that the man enjoyed prodding at people's tempers. He got to his feet and approached the hostess. "Hey, we're ready now."

"For two?"

"Yeah."

"Alright, come this way." She led the pair to a table next to a partially-blinded window. As they sat, a waitress appeared to inquire what drinks they would like.

"Coke," Xigbar answered first.

"Water."

"Alright, a Coke and a water. I'll give you a minute to look over your menus and if you need anything, call for me; my name is Yuffie!"

"Will do," Xigbar said. He made a face that made her give a friendly giggle as she left. He then faced Demyx. "So. Water. Watching your weight?"

"I already know you're gonna get the most expensive thing you can find on the menu, so I might as well eat light."

"I think you're being way too cynical about this. I mean, look, they even put us in a romantic little corner of the restaurant."

"Yeah, I guess." The gold-colored light from the late summer sunset filtered in through the blinds. The booth where they sat was in a semi-secluded part of the restaurant, giving it a cozy feel. Demyx never really could grasp the whole idea of some light tricks being romantic.

"And here we have the Ice Queen, ladies and gentlemen." He rested his head on his palm and started flipping through the menu. His tone had changed; it was a little annoyed, and at the same time defeated. Demyx felt bad now.

"Sorry about that, I just don't get the whole thing about stuff looking pretty and romantic and all that. I'm more of a sound person."

"Really?" Unmoved, disbelieving. What was with this guy? Demyx couldn't tell if he wanted to pester or endear him.

"Yeah," he answered, still trying to make himself not seem like an antisocial jerk. "Like your voice. I like it. It's rough and kind of abrasive. It's like sand."

"Thanks..."

Demyx quickly realized how rude that sounded. "But that's not a bad thing! I love the beach!" Yuffie returned with their drinks and gave them more time to decide what to order.

Xigbar chuckled and shook his head. Body language is so confusing! Demyx internally shouted. A sincere laugh like that is good, but why did he shake his head? I thought head-shaking was bad! He finally resolved to just go ahead and tell Xigbar before he kept looking like a total airhead. "You probably think I'm really slow right now, but there's actually a reason."

"Oh really? And what's that?" Interested, curious. That was good.

"See my eye?" He used his index and middle fingers to push one eye wide open and leaned closer to Xigbar. The older man leaned closer to see what he was talking about: a little ring over the light blue iris. "When I was a baby, cataracts started growing over my eyes. I couldn't get a corneal transplant until I was almost seven. When I was blind, I started learning music, so I'm more comfortable with sound than sight. After I had the surgery, I could see just fine, but a child psychologist said I missed my chance to learn certain things."

Yuffie popped up again to take their order.

"Mock chicken sandwich," Demyx said.

"Gumbo."

"Alright! I'll be back soon!"

"Now, you missed your chance to learn things like what?" Xigbar was now sounding genuinely interested now.

"Well, I can tell colors, and I learned lines and really basic shapes, but I wouldn't be able to tell you a pentagon from a hexagon without counting out the lines. Um, I can read print, but I'm better at reading Braille because I have to figure out shapes in print. I don't really get the concept of beauty either. I just don't understand it. But I think the thing that gives me the most trouble is faces. I know eyes are the colored part of your face, but other than that, I can't recognize faces at all. They all look the same to me. And don't even ask me to read an expression."

"Wow. I gotta say, now that I have that tidbit of info, you don't seem so off your rocker. That's kind of cool, actually."

Demyx giggled in response and sipped his water. "I don't usually get that response. Thanks, I guess."

"What do you usually get?"

" 'Oh you poor thing,' and 'How terrible,' and 'I can't imagine not seeing the face of' fill in the blank."

"Well, I don't have to worry about you thinking about how old I look."

"I have years of experience judging voices, you know."

"Oh, really? So how old am I?"

"Hm... I'm gonna say... Mid-thirties and you're a heavy smoker?"

"Pretty damn close. I'm right in the middle, thirty-five. But, I stopped smoking a few years ago, so I'm gonna have to take points off for that."

"Really? Good for you."

"Yeah, yeah. When you're thirteen, peer pressure makes you start smoking, and when you're thirty, it makes you stop."

Demyx giggled again. Why do I always giggle? I need a normal laugh.

"So I have to ask, what do you do with your magical sense of hearing?"

"Right now, I'm getting ready for my senior year in college. I'm majoring in Applied Music for organ and minoring in Music Composition."

"That's cool. Wait, organ?"

"Yeah, I actually started playing the organ when I was fourteen, but I started learning how to play the piano when I was five. So they're pretty similar, one's just bigger. I prefer the bigger one."

"That's what she said."

Demyx laughed at the immature joke. "Whatever!"

Yuffie returned once more with their plates of food. The realization hit Demyx that Xigbar ordered a bowl of gumbo and not the seventeen-dollar seafood platter. Yay. He actually wasn't planning on being a complete jerk.

Demyx and Xigbar indulged in further conversation, talking about such various unrelated topics as slow drivers, pets, and Wal-Mart shoppers. And strangely enough, Demyx was enjoying Xigbar's company. For most of the dinner, he even forgot that he was buying his way out of a point on his driving record. Things got a tad strange, though, when the dinner was over. The two walked out of the restaurant and Demyx was congratulating himself on getting out of the ticket when Xigbar barked a "Hey!"

Demyx turned to the sound, wondering what else he could possibly have left to do. Xigbar walked up to him and - totally out of nowhere, by the blond's standards - kissed his lips. The kiss itself wasn't unpleasant, but Demyx wasn't the kind to just let people all over him.

"What was that?" he demanded.

Xigbar laughed, a sound that made it hard for Demyx to keep a serious look. Xigbar's laugh was so funny.

"It was a goodnight kiss, duh. What, you don't kiss on the first date or something?"

"Date!" Demyx yelped. "Who said this was a date?"

"You never said it wasn't a date. And besides, I think we hit it off. I look forward to the next one. And it'll be on me next time, too." He started to walk off to his truck and Demyx quickly turned away in embarassment. Yeah, Xigbar was cool and all, but going on a date with a guy thirteen years older than him? That was just weird. And how did he even know Demyx was gay?

Wait. Xigbar was gay?

Demyx's week seemed to be having a very interesting start.