and i lose your hand through the waves, a kingdom hearts fanfic

AND I LOSE YOUR HAND THROUGH THE WAVES

if i could just reach you …

zexion/demyx

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wait out the weather that howls in my brain
because it seems
that it's always changing
the wind's indecision
the sorrowful rain

train under water — bright eyes

The digital clock read 4:02 AM. Through the window the sky looked like ink; the moon had already set, waiting for its radiant brethren to light the world again.

In the bed next to the wall, a figure slept fitfully. His feet just barely hung off the edge of the mattress, along with the blankets that had been discarded in sleep. The remaining sheet was wrapped thoroughly around his body, probably sticky with sweat in the pre-dawn late summer humidity.

With a gasp and a strangled yelp the figure roused from his nightmarish sleep, jerking into a sitting position. His overgrown slate hair was messy; the uneven bangs, usually swept into careless place by an irritated hand, were flung across his forehead in an almost comical fashion, no doubt from sleep.

Zexion dragged himself out of his bed and into a clumsy standing position, the sheets wrapped around his legs and waist in a desperate embrace. They reluctantly let go as he stumbled through the dark, groping for the bathroom's doorframe.

A muttered curse broke the humidity-heavy silence as his hand came in contact with the frame just a bit too forcefully. His hand slipped inside the dark and climbed the wall, fumbling for the light switch. With a crisp click, the bathroom was filled with light.

It was bright, almost too bright. His reflection in the cracked mirror was tired and unnaturally pale. He reached for the bowl of water he had set out before he went to bed; the water he splashed on his face was tepid and didn't soothe him.

He scrubbed a hand down his face and sighed.

"I need to find him. This can't go on for much longer."

5:30 AM, and the first traces of dawn were staining the sky.

Zexion took his time observing the breaking day just like he did every morning, keys clasped in his hand, as he jogged down his apartment complex's steps. Already there were people out, some early morning joggers like himself, and others due for an early-starting job.

Behind him, a door opened and closed. Zexion turned to see Axel, an old friend of his, and some blonde kid who he presumed was Axel's new boyfriend, walk out the complex's door and down the steps.

Axel's catlike eyes flicked over to Zexion, and a grin grew on the redhead's face.

"Yo, Zex," he greeted, lifting a hand in a wave. "This is Roxas. Met him after I 'saw' him. Bookstore, yours, actually."

Zexion nodded to show he understood, even though he didn't understand the bookstore part, since he didn't own one or have a job at one. He turned to the blonde, who was observing him uncertainly with stormy steel-blue eyes. Axel, who was clairvoyant, managed to find Thirteen… That was good. Now, if he could only find the one he was looking for…

He pushed his thoughts away and offered a hand to Roxas with a knowing half-smile. "Nice to finally meet you, Roxas," he said. "How's this world treating you?"

"Well enough, or I wouldn't have met him," was the response. Just like the old Rox, Zexion thought to himself.

"So, I'll be seeing you guys. Gotta run." Zexion raised a hand in farewell and turned, then set his watch and began his morning jog.

His mind usually wandered as he ran, jumping from random thing to random thing, but this morning his thoughts lingered on his nightmare.

Visions of the thirteen Nobodies, only a few of which he had seen daily. He could only remember a few names, but all those without he created names for. He remembered Lexaeus, and Vexen, Axel and Larxene too. He and Axel hadn't exactly been on good terms, but they were both Nobodies and really, friendship and all that didn't matter anyway.

Their goal was to get their hearts back, not to make friends and settle for the heartless life they had, if it could even be called a life. Playing well with others wasn't among the objectives in Xemnas' grand plan.

And really, looking back, Zexion kind of admired how Axel betrayed them. He was a man of his own loyalties, and in those he really was loyal to the end.

Vexen was gone to Axel, and the little Keyblade rat benefited often with Eight's subtle guidance.

Lexaeus was one whom Zexion could call a friend; Vexen, not so much. Axel was a double agent, something Zexion didn't realize fully until he was at Eight's mercy.

There were two others in Oblivion, but Zexion could only recall fragments; a venomous rose-tinted lion, thorns protruding from his mane, and a green-eyed black mamba with electricity flicking along her forked tongue. Names did not come to mind.

And Namine, little Namine, who, as it was blatantly obvious, was the object of Marluxia's affections, and sadly of his lust. Zexion tried to spend as much time with her as he could, for he knew from the sudden lack of the bitter, instinctual fear-smell whenever he was around that his presence comforted her.

Roxas he remembered, and of course, Xemnas, Xigbar and Xaldin. He had glimpsed briefly Seven on a number of occasions, but cared not to see the Berserker more.

There was another he could remember. Nine.

In his dream he was fading again, the Replica's copied-DNA teal eyes so close to his, and in their depths he saw something seemingly etched onto all of their souls.

The dark was tugging at his eyes; he broke the stare, closed his eyes, and disappeared.

He wasn't sure how long it was until he opened his eyes again, and when he did, he was watching another Organization member fight the Keyblader.

It was Nine, and something in his chest ached as he watched the Nocturne.

He listened as there was a grunt, a cry of pain, obviously from the sky-child's Keyblade.

Recollections of that same voice, that voice singing in different tongues. That voice, simply talking, was the lullaby of the angels.

It was only in dreaming that Zexion could finally recall those lost memories, but the seraph was close to fading, his chorus growing weaker and pained.

No, his mind whispered, and the last stroke of Keyblade was his own pain.

The Nocturne faded. Failed, Xemnas would say.

And he'd awaken, and he didn't know the seraph's name. Instead were ghosts of whispered songs and secret smiles, nights bathing naked and glowing in the taunting light of the heart-shaped moon overhead, nights of hopeful confessions and clenching hands entangled in messy bedsheets. Ghosts that made him long for his own lost apparition.

Zexion did not know his name.

He stopped at a corner, breathing hard. He checked his watch as the light changed to red and most of the people gathered there crossed the street. One mile in five minutes and fourteen seconds. Zexion sighed and began to follow the crossing group of people, pushing a hand through his slate hair, careful not to move the bangs from his right eye.

Distracted by his running time, he did not notice that the light had changed again and all the other pedestrians had cleared the street. Traffic started to move, as blind to the slate-haired jogger as they were to him.

"Yo!"

Zexion snapped to attention just in time to register a grey-and-black blur push him to the opposite side of the street.

"Dude! You coulda been road pizza, kid!"

A bright golden eye stared incredulously at Zexion, its counterpart covered by a black patch.

Something deep buried in Zexion's mind stirred in memory and he took in eagerly the scarred olive skin, the jet-black ponytail streaked in silver. Found another one, Axel, he thought, a grin sprouting on his face.

"Xigbar, right?" Zexion's grin was uncharacteristically wide.

The scarred man looked down at his own chest – no nametag from his job – then back up at Zexion and scowled in confusion. "What're you, one of those weirdo—"

Realization dawned on him; Zexion always loved watching them remember.

"Zex…Zexion? Dude, is that you? NO WAY!"

Zexion found himself trapped in a back-cracking bearhug.

"Xig—" he gasped, "—you're…choking—"

"Oh, sorry, Zex. It's just that I can't believe it's you, kiddo! Ah man…as if I'd thought this would ever happen! I've found ol' Xally, but never did I think I'd find you here, you sneaky little bookworm!" Xigbar grinned.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Zexion's grin faded infinitesimally at the mention of finding some of the old group, but he ignored the fresh onslaught of thoughts swarming in his head and gave Xigbar's shoulder an affectionate little push.

"I gotta get going, Xig. Gotta pick up some groceries and a bag of cat food. But look," Zexion said, taking Xigbar's hand and scribbling his number along the inside of his battle-scarred wrist, "call me whenever. Got it? It's been really great finding you, buddy. And thanks for saving my ass."

"Yeah, squirt, catch ya later," came the easy, friendly response as Zexion turned and reset his watch for the run home, head buzzing with thoughts.

He stepped out of the small health food shop where he usually got groceries, a small paper bag in hand. The pet store was only a block down, thankfully, and from there to his apartment building was another five minutes. Better hurry so Lucien doesn't raise hell, Zexion thought, stuffing the paper bag into the pocket of his running shorts.

It had become a habit to count his strides as he ran, something to distract him from his thoughts. He was so occupied with this that he hadn't realized he was drawing closer and closer to the pet shop until he'd passed it and barreled right into a human obstacle.

The impact knocked the other to the ground; momentum kept Zexion going, his legs having nothing to do but to trip. Shocked, he tumbled over the kid and onto the ground, a bellyflop right onto the sidewalk.

Zexion lay there, stunned, and only when the poor kid under him stirred did he leap to his feet, stuttering apologies.

"Oh man, sorry, I-I wasn't paying attention, crap, sorry, are y-you hurt?"

He reached for the kid's hand and pulled them up, baffled and apologetic, taking in the dark blue sweater with 'The beginning of wisdom is silence' lettered on the front, the torn, weathered Converse not unlike his own, and holey jeans.

His gaze connected with the kid's pale blue eyes, and recognition registered in his mind as she gave a soft smile and tugged back her hood. Ash-blonde hair cascaded to her shoulders.

"Namine?" Zexion gasped; the girl nodded and held up her notebook, where a messy, hurried sketch of their sprawled bodies on the sidewalk occupied the page. Namine had circled his running-outfit-clad portrait in red, and at the bottom of the page the word 'tomorrow' was written in her neat cursive script.

"Today," she murmured, "is the day we meet for the second time." Her grin was quiet, like everything else about her.

She was like a little sister to Zexion, always had been. He gave her a brief hug, then held her by the shoulders at arm's length.

"Come back to my place with me. We'll catch up."

She nodded, and they turned to the direction of Zexion's apartment.

The keys fit like old friends into the locks, and the doorknob turned with a creak in his hand.

The apartment was denied of sunlight by the dark curtains and closed blinds; the only light was the artificial glow of the television, and even that was partially blocked by a feline silhouette.

The cat turned and gave a brief meow as a greeting, then turned back to the television.

"Namine, welcome to my sanctuary. That's Lucien, my cat, but more so my friend. Luce, where are your manners? Come and introduce yourself."

Namine's head tilted quizzically as the grey tabby lifted itself gracefully from its relaxed position and stretched, then made its way over to the two, black stripes rippling along his grey coat. He stopped just short of the blonde girl, gazing up at her with surprisingly intelligent green eyes as Zexion closed the door and locked it.

"Mrow?" Lucien's tail flicked; slowly he cocked his head to the side to mirror Namine's expression.

Zexion hid a small smile. "I'll go make some tea," he murmured, slipping away from the two acquaintances and into the kitchen.

When he returned with two cups of tea and a bowl for the cat, the two were still locked in a staring match.

"Okay, Lucien, relinquish the newcomer," Zexion teased, sitting down on the couch, and the cat broke the stare to eye him as if to say, What do you take me for, ordering me around like that, a dog?

Indignantly the tabby leapt upon the small couch where Zexion was sitting, perching himself on the armrest and idly licking a white paw.

"Come and sit, Nami," Zexion said, filling Lucien's small bowl with some of the tea and nudging a cup toward the blonde girl. She complied and took a sip from the cup.

Zexion nodded and set down the bowl.

"Now tell me where you've been."

Namine was seventeen, four years younger than Zexion. She hadn't known of her location before her current one, as if she'd woken from a coma.

She "saw" things, but differently than how Axel did. No, she sketched them, and they came to be. Not unlike how her old powers worked, actually, but she just received instead of weaved.

Zexion mulled on this the next morning after Namine left; they had stayed up, talking until the morning was born, then she set off for her place and he napped. Namine had promised to keep in touch, leaving her address and phone number on a rumpled napkin on the kitchen counter.

He took a deep breath, the wind pushing his bangs back. The nightmare had once again plagued him, the nightmare of fading and drifting and Nine…beautiful Nine…

Why couldn't he remember his name?

Automatically he started running down the sidewalk, dodging businesspeople and small kids alike, the question whirling in his mind.

9:44 AM. Zexion had been running on and off for an hour. Today he started his new job at a nearby small bookstore. So Axel had been right.

And he oh-so-conveniently forgot to pick up Lucien's food yesterday, to make matters worse.

Zexion grumbled all the way to his new job. He glared up at the bookstore's sign and stepped inside.

Inside it was cool, a contrast to the already high eighty-degree late August weather outside. A little bell on the door announced his presence, and a brunette girl with a pink bow in her messy braid peeked out from behind a bookshelf, several books about magic stacked in her arms.

She gave a friendly smile and set down the books on the floor at the end of the shelf, wiping her hands on her dress and stepping behind the old desk that served as a counter.

"Hi," she greeted shyly. "Can I help you with something?"

"Hi, um, I'm Zexion, and I applied for a job—"

Realization lightened her lively green eyes. "Ah, Zexion! I'm Aeris, sorry. I'm pretty much the only one who works here…I'm so glad you came." She walked around to stand in front of Zexion.

"I'll show you around."

The clock in his small room announced to the world in digital green numbers that it was 7:15 PM when Zexion flopped on his bed in exhaustion. Aeris is nice, he thought tiredly. She'd taught him all there was to know about the bookstore and helping her manage it. It was something he'd definitely enjoy, especially since she'd given him permission to read the books for free, whenever he liked.

A moonlight-softened figure leapt onto the bed and reassured Zexion with a soft purr. Lucien curled up against Zexion's leg and closed his eyes, his purring intensifying in volume when his owner's hand lightly stroked a pattern across his back.

However comforting the feline's presence was, Zexion still did not want to sleep because he knew what awaited him.

Sheer exhaustion forced him to give in. his eyes slipped shut, and he spiraled into the dream.

Your name! YOUR NAME!

In his dream Zexion screamed, and when he jerked from slumber he still called those words.

"YOUR NAME! I CAN'T…I can't…remember…"

His hands clutched at his head in agony. Lucien mewed in concern.

Slowly the headache faded, drifted so much like he and Nine did in that starless void – Nine, oh Nine…

"Ugh, Luce," Zexion groaned. The clock was at 8:30 AM, but the lack of windows allowed no sunlight.

"I need to find him. Then I'll know his name…He's not just…He's more than a memory in my head…"

The grey tabby watched Zexion from his place, nestled among the abandoned blankets. He gave a quiet mrow as Zexion paced to the bathroom and splashed water onto his face, hoping to bring clarity back to his mind.

Zexion walked out of the door ten minutes later, and the grey cat was asleep.

On his way to work (Aeris had told him the preferred time was 9:00 AM, sharp, except in case of emergency), Zexion was not zoning, for once. No – instead he was people-watching.

He was sick of having the nightmare, so he decided that he'd find Nine, and when he did, the oddly empty chunk in his chest would be filed. So finally he'd be whole.

He just hoped his plan would work.

Zexion had left his apartment at 8:40 AM. Now it was 8:45; he was pretty confident in the fact that he'd get to work on time. It would take something incredibly groundshaking to delay him.

Maybe I jinxed myself, he thought, and not a moment passed before a resounding screech, crash and crunch of metal was heard.

Zexion flinched and spun to see the astonishing wreckage of a car crash. He gaped and, too shocked to move, merely stared.

He snapped from the shock when he saw a slightly crunched car door struggle to open. Zexion rushed to the ruined car, gaze alighting on a familiar blonde, who was paled and stuck in the vehicle.

"R-Roxas?" he gasped, grasping the door's handle and jerking once, twice, three times until it opened.

Roxas was unnaturally pale, his storm-blue eyes wide with shock. His nose was contorted and gushing blood, obviously broken.

"Ith the othew guy okhay?" Roxas managed to say, then stopped and raised a surprised hand to gingerly touch his nose.

"It's broken," Zexion said rather calmly, then, "I don't know…"

He walked toward the ruined car that Roxas' small green Acura had T-boned in the driver's side, the door looking impossible to open and the glass shattered.

Zexion reached the car and stared, dumbfounded, at the driver. The guy looked young, maybe Zexion's age. His dirty blonde hair was styled into something messy and impossible to recognize in these conditions; blood was steadily oozing from a fairly large gash in the kid's forehead, near his left eye. His eyes were closed.

The flutter of something strange and unrelated to the circumstances boiled in Zexion's gut.

"Unconscious," he whispered, maybe a hope – and pressed two fingers to the kid's neck. A slow, feeble but still recognizable pulse of blood was there.

Zexion's mouth went dry as the flicker of a memory fluttered around in his skull.

"Roxas," he tried to say, but nothing came out. He wished he had a cell phone.

"Roxas!" He yelled, forcing his voice out, turning to the blonde.

"Call –"

The ambulance was already there; the words died in Zexion's throat.

He turned back to the kid in the car and began to struggle to open the door, ignoring the blood pouring from cuts the jagged glass sliced into his palms.

"Don't, don't, don't," he chanted under his breath; the EMTs were loading up Roxas.

"Don't leave, don't, don't, don't. Don't."

Finally, the door was beginning to give. With a grating click the lock disengaged. He tugged on the door, pulled with all his strength, which had suddenly heightened.

"Sir –" An EMT was watching, concerned. "Sir, let me."

Zexion only pulled harder, until the ruined metal was pried enough away so he could slip his torso in there.

A good distance away, firefighters were bringing the Jaws.

Zexion reached a hand to cup the driver's face, to turn it gently toward him.

He felt like someone just force-fed him a concrete block.

Nine.

He hadn't realized he'd spoken aloud until the EMT asked, "What?"

A firefighter was there, suddenly, looking sympathetic.

"Son, you gotta step back."

"No! Don't!" Zexion's visible eye was wide, panicked. "No, no, please, I just found him, please…"

Another firefighter gently pulled him to the side, and he watched, sobbing in shock, as they pried the door off its hinges. Two EMTs loaded Nine onto the stretcher they'd unfolded, and carted him back to the ambulance.

"Nine!" he screamed, tearing free of the two that held him, and ran after the EMTs. He pleaded to go with them; "Please, please, I need to, please!"

Finally they allowed him, and he simply sat next to the kid in the stretcher, gaze glued to him as the EMTs did their part. He only stared, stared at the face that had haunted him for so long.

Zexion woke in an uncomfortable position, siting in a very stiff chair with a very stiff back. At first he knew not where he was, but as soon as his gaze hit the hospital bed and its occupant, he knew.

Nine was hooked up to an IV, a heart monitor and a few other machines; his head was bandaged heavily, and his left arm was in a sling-like object.

Zexion felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. He raised a hand and pressed two fingers to his temple, only to feel a strange texture stiffly bend on his hand, like a new, inflexible extra layer of skin.

He lowered his hand; his whole palm and the bottom of his fingers were wrapped in gauze. His other hand had this same treatment. He lowered his hands, confused.

There was a clock on the wall. Zexion stared at it, trying to draw comfort from its steady ticking. It read 11:25, but if it was morning or night, he didn't know.

The reassuring ticks were drowned out by the beeping of the heart monitor and the hissing compress of the breathing machine.

He could vaguely remember what had happened. Only fragments returned, much like how his past existence was remembered to him.

He recalled hearing the blood-freezing sound of the two cars' impact, then running to Roxas; he knew that he'd run to where the other driver's slaughtered car lay, peering into the wreckage…

He remembered feeling the kid's pulse thud faintly and sluggishly against his shaky fingers.

The ambulance ride and the events just before he woke were a blur; vaguely he recalled being bandaged and staring at the patient for an immeasurable amount of time before falling asleep.

Sudden curiosity flooded Zexion, and he struggled to his feet, wanting to see the driver's face.

He edged closer.

It was the face of his best dream and worst nightmare, an innocent face with a beautiful voice.

Nine.

"Demyx," Zexion spoke in a whisper, then froze, as if he'd spoken an incantation and was waiting for the spell to be cast.

The machines kept up their rhythm with the clock, and the kid did not stir.

Almost in a dreamlike state, Zexion reached out his hand and gently, hesitantly stroked Demyx's dirty blonde hair, then his cheek.

Finally, he could touch the one who walked his dreams. Finally he could feel the miserable hole in his chest start to knit together the torn sides.

Finally he could love his boy, this boy with an angel's voice and a name shared with the ocean.

He curled next to Demyx on the uncomfortable hospital bed and closed his eyes.

When Zexion woke up, he was covered in a light blanket, still curled on Demyx's hospital bed. He tossed off the blanket – it landed on a nearly chair – and slid off the bed carefully, gaze trained on the invalid occupying it. A place in his chest hurt a sharp ache that made him long for the unconscious boy to wake up.

A soft click alerted Zexion of the door opening. He spun around to see a tall doctor with short, unruly brown hair step into the room, eyes gentle and sympathetic.

"Good…," – the doctor checked his watch – "…morning, I suppose, sir. You were asleep when my assistant Yuna checked in on you an hour ago, at 11:47 PM. I'm Dr. Lexaeus."

A shock went through Zexion; so that was why the doctor felt so familiar.

"Zexion. Pleasure to meet you, sir," he said quietly, watching carefully Lexaeus' familiar eyes for signs of recognition.

If the doctor remembered him, he showed not the slightest clue.

"So, Zexion, how do you know our patient?" Lexaeus asked, keeping his voice light; there was an odd sentiment in his words, almost sympathy or pity, but not quite.

"Friend of mine," he responded almost mechanically. The quick glance he sent the invalid initiated a sharp pain deep cradled within his ribcage.

"Ah. A girl called not soon after the two of you arrived. Provided some information, but most of the things we need to know need to come from him." Lexaeus gestured to the prone figure in the bed.

"So…what's wrong with him?" asked Zexion, unable to quell the churning feelings of worry and dread in his stomach.

The doctor looked surprised. "I'd thought a nurse had told you. He's comatose, Zexion. We don't know if he'll ever wake up."

Coma. Zexion stared dumbly at the doctor, his best friend once upon another existence.

Lexaeus' eyes were filled with pity. "I'm sorry, son. I'll just be a call away on that phone, if you need me." He gestured to a phone attached to the wall as he stepped out, closing the door quietly behind him.

Coma…It was so obvious. Zexion sat heavily on Demyx's bed, gaze locked on the patient's face. How couldn't I have known?

And he had wanted so much to see the kid open his eyes and stare into his with love and recognition… Was that still a hopeless wish?

But of course it probably wouldn't happen… Even if Demyx wasn't in a coma, he'd have to remember every speck of his and Zexion's relationship in the World That Never Was…

Which wouldn't be hard… it had been a passionate relationship, however devoid of passion Nobodies were said to be. They knew different, just went with the scheme anyway…

Who was he kidding? The kid, his past and current love, some seraph disguised as a lowly mortal human… Demyx, he'd probably never wake up. Never would Zexion see those beautiful eyes, hear the angel's voice…

A tear dripped down his cheek, then another. It wasn't fair. He had just found him again, only to have him taken away…

A shuddering sigh ran through his exhausted body as he sat on the edge of the bed, his palms, wet with tears, cradling his face. He couldn't look at the comatose patient in the bed; his heart hurt too much.

A gentle knock came from the door. Zexion turned to see a brunette nurse with warm mismatched eyes in the doorway.

"Sir? You can take a break now, if you need it. There are snack machines on the third floor, in the lounge."

"Who'll watch…him?" Zexion asked, only to have it answered when the young nurse smiled and gestured to herself.

"Okay…" Reluctantly he slid off the bed and trudged to the door, risking a glance back at the patient.

The ache in his chest sharpened.

Quietly he shut the door behind him, then memorized the room number.

609. Was it a good omen that the room number contained both of their former numbers, or was fate taunting him to see how much he could take before he'd break?

He hoped it was the first.

Ninth floor. They were on the ninth floor. He squeezed through the closing elevator doors and a tired-looking man huffed in annoyance as he was jostled.

"Third floor," he announced, and the person closest to the elevator controls, a kindly old lady, smiled and pressed the appropriate button.

Zexion suppressed a shudder. He hated elevators.

The tired man got off on the seventh floor, and two quietly chatting teenage girls got on. The redheaded girl looked weary, but her cheery brunette friend was happily jabbering her ear off.

"Ooh, Kairi!" The brunette squealed to her friend, and out of the corner of his eye, Zexion saw her point to him excitedly.

He could feel his eye twitch in irritation. Please don't talk to me, please please please please plea—

"Hiiiii," the brunette said, her high-pitched voice sugary. Seriously, what kind of luck did he have?

He prayed it wasn't directed to him and risked a glance in her direction. Yup, she was talking to him, a finger twirling a curly lock of hair charmingly. The gesture was wasted on him.

"I'm Selphie. Wanna go out sometime?"

Zexion sighed. "Look, kid, I'm sorry but I'm…not interested. My boyfr—my friend is…I just can't...handle anything else. So…I'm sorry," he finished lamely.

The girl visibly drooped but managed a pitifully smiling 'okay' and turned to stare at the buttons on the wall.

Her redhead friend winced in sympathy, towards whom Zexion didn't know.

Finally they had reached the third floor.

Zexion was the first to scramble out of that wretched space, heading immediately in the direction which the signs indicated was the lounge.

Upon pushing open the door he walked to the drink machine, sliding in the necessary change and pressing the large button for an orange soda.

He popped the top and took a swig, grimacing as the bubbly beverage slid down his throat. His head began to feel heavy with the rush.

He purchased a granola bar from the snack machine and sat down at one of the small round tables.

Zexion had just unwrapped the granola bar when the door swung open. In came the redhead from the elevator, but her rejected brunette friend wasn't with her. She nodded a greeting to Zexion and walked to the machines.

He took a bite of his granola and chewed listlessly, staring at his soda can. He had to get something in his stomach, even if the mere thought of eating was nauseating.

Looking up, he saw the redhead standing behind the other chair at the table he was occupying, a coffee in hand. She gestured and he nodded; she puled the chair out gently and sat across from him.

"Sorry about Selphie," she said; her voice was quiet, quite the opposite of her friend's cheery, loud one. "I'm Kairi."

"Zexion," he introduced himself. "Why are you here? At the hospital, I mean."

Kairi had a sad smile. "My best friend Sora is critically ill. His best friend Riku is a wreck… so are the rest of us, of course, but some handle covering up worry better than others. Selphie especially."

"Oh," Zexion said, sympathizing with this strange girl with the strange sadness that he intuitively felt was about more than her best friend's sickness. He didn't push the subject.

"My…I don't even know what he is to me anymore. I know I love him, though… his name is Demyx. He's… in a coma."

Kairi's face immediately fell. "I'm so sorry…"

He nodded, and they sat there in silence for a moment, a sad silence. He picked at his granola bar and she stared at her coffee as if the steaming depths would relinquish the answer to all of this anguish.

"Do you know a girl named Namine?" she asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

When Zexion nodded, Kairi continued, "She's my girlfriend. She told me about you just yesterday…"

"That's interesting. We…quite literally ran into each other two or three days ago for the first time in a long while."

A silence fell again, still sad but just a bit more comfortable.

It was broken again after a minute by Kairi mumbling something that sounded a lot like "Kingdom Hearts destroyed us all, it did."

He answered in a voice just as quiet, "Even under al the fighting and fading and celebrating and freedom. It was toxic, painful to the touch."

Zexion rose to his feet. "I should check on Demyx. It was nice to meet you, Kairi."

"And you. Come over with Nami sometime."

The lounge door swung shut behind him and he wondered why the girl was so sad, and if she wondered the same about him.

Demyx was just as he left him. The steady beeping of the heart monitor was lulling Zexion into a state in which it was impossible to stay awake. He slid into the bed, lying next to Demyx, and drew comfort from how warm he was.

He closed his eyes, only to open them again and flip into a kneeling position, gaze trained on Demyx. A nervous feeling started to churn in his stomach as he leaned forward, close enough to the patient to see a light dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks.

So beautiful. Will this be the only time? Zexion thought, and pressed his trembling lips against Demyx's warm, steady mouth.

The first kiss, and maybe the last, of this life, he thought, and very nearly lost it. He pulled away and laid in his previous position on his back, staring at the ceiling and breathing irregularly from mixed anguish and longing.

"I don't want you to stay in that void, Demyx," he whispered tearfully, his shaking hand finding the patient's warm one, carefully clasping the almost fragile hand. The taste of Demyx's lips remained on his mouth.

"Please wake up…"

Zexion didn't know what time it was anymore. His eyes were closed, but sleep evaded him. He finally decided he'd get up and go call namine. There was a pay phone in the lounge.

Gently he detached his hand from Demyx's; the patient had unconsciously tightened his hold over the hours.

He didn't want to leave Demyx there alone… Maybe he'd find a nurse.

Zexion walked out the door, only to collide with something hard and almost bony. His first guess was a cart, but when he pulled himself to his feet, he saw a familiar redhead. "Axel?" he said uncertainly.

The redhead, who seemingly didn't notice that someone ran into him, turned and managed a smile. "Hey, Zex. Rox told me you were at the scene of the crash and helped him out."

"Yeah…I did." Zexion hadn't given it much thought; he'd been so occupied with Demyx.

"Thanks, buddy," Axel whispered, crushing Zexion in a grateful hug.

"Ax—okay—"

"Oh, sorry." The redhead released Zexion with a sheepish smile.

He coughed and managed to say, "Ax, could you do me a favor?"

When the redhead nodded, he told him what his crisis was.

"I can watch him for you," the redhead agreed, a slight smile on his face. "I've missed Demmy anyway…"

The door swung shut behind Zexion. A sigh escaped his lips as he headed to the elevator to go back up to the room.

This time the elevator was empty. He stepped inside and pressed the button for the ninth floor. Namine had done her best to comfort him, but the heavy, listless depression that had settled over his chest was too hard to ignore.

His thoughts traveled to Demyx, and how beautifully innocent and peaceful he looked in his comatose sleep. Zexion could almost convince himself that the kid really was only sleeping, with no chance of never waking up.

His heart felt like it was being constricted and ripped to shreds simultaneously.

Demyx was the same when Zexion got back; he earned some time alone with his comatose love after thanking Axel and convincing a nurse that they'd be fine.

Zexion fell asleep curled up next to Demyx, face pressed to the side of the patient's upper arm, hand gently clasped in hand.

He dreamt of nothing.

When Zexion woke up, it was dark in the room except for a small, dimmed overhead light. The clock read 9:22; he figured it was nighttime again. He was losing track of everything.

And why did he wake up? Confusion flooded him; he brushed it off as nothing, and was almost asleep when he was roused again.

It had almost felt like something moved on the bed. …Demyx, maybe? As much as he hoped so, it was probably not.

A small whimper came from his side. Zexion sat up almost the same time Demyx tried to, and stared into those beautiful ocean eyes for the first time in a lifetime.

They were better than he'd remembered.

"Where am I?" Demyx whimpered, eyes large and confused. He noticed for the first time that he was not alone.

"Who are you? Who am I?"

A lead weight settled in Zexion's stomach as smoothly as a small plane in the midst of a fierce storm.

"Your name… Your name is Demyx. You were in a car accident, Demyx, you were in a coma for… I don't know how long. I was with you the entire time…"

The ocean eyes were almost impossibly wide.

The door squeaked as it opened. Demyx jumped, startled, as the brunette nurse stepped in. Her mismatched eyes took in the scene.

"He woke up? I'll go get Dr. Lexaeus!"

Zexion turned back to Demyx. "Look, it'll be okay," he murmured soothingly. He still couldn't believe the kid was awake, after he was so hopeless. "Lexaeus will explain some things, then I'll take you to Namine… Everything will be fine."

The dirty blonde kid was comforted by this, but soon grew rigid and distant. His pupils were terribly dilated, engulfing the beautiful ocean-hued iris.

Demyx was mumbling, but Zexion couldn't hear what. The kid began to shake violently; Zexion reached a hand out to calm him, worry darkening his expression, but when his hand came in contact with Demyx's, the shaking ceased.

What the…

"Zexion?" Demyx said, turning to gaze at him with something inscrutable in his eyes.

"Ye—wait…I didn't…" tell you my name, he finished mentally. Something strange was going on.

"Why are we in a clinic? Did Vexen get new equipment? Where's the Superior?" He jerked forward and grabbed Zexion's hand. "I missed you so, so much…"

Zexion's heart swelled, and he was just about to respond when the nurse returned with Lexaeus.

"Number Five!" Demyx exclaimed. "Why are you in Vexen's lab? What's going on here?"

The nurse and Lexaeus exchanged baffled glances.

"Demyx, you just woke up from a coma."

He nodded, and the doctor went on to explain exactly what had happened.

Zexion wasn't paying attention. He needed to ask Namine what the hell was going on.

"Namine? Why did this happen?"

"Amnesia. But he remembers his past life. You say he remembers you and the love you shared?"

"I think so."

Demyx had finally been discharged from the hospital. Strangely enough, he remembered clearly how to move and function, everything except who he was in this new life, pre-wreck.

He kept asking questions, but Zexion only answered with "Namine will help you understand."

Zexion wanted badly to kiss him again, to feel him kiss back this time, but he didn't dare until they got somewhere safe, like Namine's house.

It was nearly lunchtime, and Zexion had hardly eaten at all, but his appetite had disappeared. Demyx, though, was ravenous.

"Hungry…"

"I know, Dem, we'll be there soon…"

Demyx had started to act like his old, playful side again. He and Zexion walked hand in hand, and occasionally the blonde would alight little pecks on Zexion's cheek.

"I missed you so much, Zex, in that space between fading and after the coma. Where did you go, what did you see?"

And Zexion told him, he told him about drifting, searching for Demyx in the void after his fade, how he'd grown up in this world orphaned, but how Demyx was there in his mind every day.

"Until I'd met Axel when I was fifteen, I didn't know who you were, where you were, or why you were constantly on my mind. I just knew your name, and I knew I had to find you, and I knew that I loved you…"

Demyx's ocean eyes softened. "Aww…that's so touching compared to mine. Maybe because I was 'destroyed' by Sora, but death erased all of my memories. I don't know how I got here. I wasn't born. Just, one moment I was in the void, and the next, I was opening my eyes and looking around in an alley."

"Strange," Zexion agreed as they crossed the street with the small crowd of people on their lunch break; his hand tightened its grip in sympathy. "I'm glad I found you when I did."

Demyx smiled a beautiful smile, one that took Zexion's breath. "I'm glad I found you at all," he said, then leaned to gently claim Zexion's lips in a chaste, loving kiss.

They must've remained there for a moment, because the next thing Zexion knew was that some irritated driver was furiously honking his horn and revving his engine threateningly at them.

"Get out of the road, you stupid fags!" the driver shouted, his voice dripping contempt.

The driver accelerated the very second Demyx's foot stepped on to the curb. Alarmed, they scrambled out of harm's way.

"People here," Zexion growled, glaring in the direction the driver sped off in. "No fucking patience."

With a muttered "C'mon," he caught Demyx's hand and pulled him gently in the direction of Namine's place.

It was close to 5 PM when they finally left Namine's place; she'd sent them after zoning out for a good five minutes, and remained in the same unfocused, distant mood that the trance left her with.

Her parting words were, "Be safe. There is hatred out tonight."

They made Zexion want to get home as fast as possible. At the thought of home he remembered that he needed to get food for Luce, but he pushed the thought away and grabbed Demyx's hand.

"Let's see how fast you can run," he challenged with a grin.

Demyx agreed with an answering grin, then they were sprinting past and through throngs of people walking home.

Occasionally they'd bump someone, shouting a "Sorry!" to the businessman or teenage girl over their shoulders. Their expressions would crack Zexion up, limiting his air for running.

As Namine had oh-so-casually mentioned, he did feel a lot happier with Demyx. It was odd feeling so light.

"Here we are," Zexion said a few minutes later; he looked fine, unfazed by the run, compared to Demyx, who was panting and sweating.

"You've…lot of stamina, Zex," he panted, following him inside the building. They took the stairs to the third floor.

"Wonder what else it could be used for."

Zexion winked at him as he unlocked the door. "Wanna find out?"

He stepped into the dark room first, greeting Lucien with a "You hungry, Luce?" then shutting and locking the door behind Demyx.

The tabby cat meowed and leapt onto the arm of the couch as Demyx sat down, staring curiously, unblinkingly at him.

"Hey there," Demyx murmured, offering a hand for the grey cat to sniff.

"Remember how I told you about Demyx, Lucien? This is the guy."

The cat blinked once and gave a brief purr, then jumped off the couch and looked at Zexion expectantly.

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled, getting up and disappearing into the kitchen. He returned a moment later with a small bowl of milk and a plate of cinnamon buns.

"Dinner." He soaked pieces of cinnamon bun in the bowl of milk and set it on the ground for Lucien, then sat down next to Demyx, close enough that their legs touched.

"I remembered that these were your favorite," Zexion said after they'd each taken a bite.

Demyx turned to him, ocean eyes warm, and pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips.

Swallowing what was left of his mouthful, Zexion caught Demyx's face before he'd moved away, gazing at him like he was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Which was the truth.

"Demyx," Zexion whispered. Said blonde swallowed and redirected his lips to Zexion's, a smile tilting up the corners.

Together they sat there, attached at the lips, heartbeats racing equally fast; Zexion's hand traveled to comb through Demyx's hair, and the blonde trailed his hands from their place in his lap up to Zexion's neck, brushing against the fine little hairs there.

Zexion grunted as Demyx moved his hands and pushed him back onto the couch, kissing with a new fervor, one that screamed I missed you, I missed you, why'd you ever leave me, I love you.

Zexion's tongue gently trailed across the seam of Demyx's lips; he obliged, but their pace slowed. It had been so long, so long, and both couldn't really believe it was true. Demyx could feel his eyes welling up with tears just at the thought.

One escaped from his ocean eyes and dripped down onto Zexion's visible, closed eye. Slowly he blinked it open, and pulled his tongue back into his mouth when he noticed all the other tears.

"Dem," he murmured, voice soft; Demyx gurgled.

Gently he reversed their positions, flipping Demyx on his back and draping himself on the blonde.

"Love," he whispered as Demyx's tears dripped down the side of his face, settling warm and wet in the cartilage of his ears.

"Ze-x…" A choked sob. Demyx closed his eyes.

Zexion kissed his cheek, then his eyelids. His lips traveled to his temple, then his forehead, then his chin. They slid down to his neck, kissing the underside, drifting to the side to linger on the pulse point. He traced Demyx's jawbone with his lips, then tugged down his shirt collar to rest them against his collarbone.

"Zex…"

He returned to Demyx's lips, pressing gently, then pulling away just enough to speak.

"Demyx. I love you, Dem."

"Don't leave me," he whispered in response, voice choked by tears.

"I won't."

It was dark in the apartment, darker than before. Dusk.

Demyx had fallen asleep under Zexion; the two hadn't budged from their previous position, the television's light flickering over Zexion's pale face.

With a grunt he got up, stretching before sliding his arms under Demyx's prone form and carrying him to his bedroom.

He laid him down gently on his bed, then resumed his position on top of him and tried to sleep.

He waited for a long while, and just when he was beginning to worry if he'd gone into another coma, Demyx stirred.

He mumbled sleepily, and Zexion turned to watch his expression. He pressed a kiss to his chin and greeted sleepy ocean eyes with a soft smile.

"Hey, Dem."

"Hi, my Zexy," the blonde murmured, then touched Zexion's overhanging bangs and said, "Why can't I see both of my Zexy's eyes? I could see them behind your hair in the last life."

Zexion gave a rueful smile and pulled aside his overgrown bangs to show a light eye that contrasted with his darker one. The iris was a pale green, almost white.

"I'm half blind in that eye, Dem."

Demyx kissed the cheekbone directly under the eye. "I love both of your eyes. You're so beautiful, Zexion…"

A slight hue ghosted across Zexion's cheeks.

"Not as much as you."

2 AM.

They were stumbling out of a small bar, Seventh Heaven, after spending a while celebrating their long-delayed reunion. Even intoxicated, they couldn't keep their eyes (or hands, for that matter) off each other.

The blonde was giggling as he tried to walk, leaning heavily against his slate-haired lover.

As for Zexion, a strange dread churned in his stomach, but in his half-drunken state he thought it was only nausea. He turned to Demyx.

"Demdemdem. Ah love yoooouu, Dem," he slurred, a smile on his face as he pressed a sluggish kiss to Demyx's lips; his mouth remained there.

The blonde moaned and pushed him into the nearby alley wall, going to work on Zexion's neck and eliciting a number of noises from him.

Back at the bar, a silver-haired kid of about 24 was being pushed out by a bouncer. After being told several times to leave and refusing to go, the bouncer cocked back a giant fist and decked the kid.

He pulled himself to his feet where he landed and skittered off with a backward glance in the direction the two lovers had gone, one hand wiping his already bloody nose and one touching lightly an object in his trenchcoat pocket.

He kept running, only stopping when he heard a muffled moan come from near the wall. Slightly curious and mostly pissed off, he crept nearer to the sounds, only to see two drunken figures making out in the shadows.

"Hey, you." His voice was rough from anger, grief, and alcohol.

At his greeting, Zexion and Demyx jumped apart rather clumsily.

"Who're you?" Demyx blurted.

The silver-haired kid gave him a harsh smirk and a provocative look. "Well, well, well, the fags from the crosswalk. Nice piece of meat you got here, emo," he taunted, and Zexion visibly tensed.

"Leave us alone, jerkoff."

"So sorry, emo. I used to have someone like him—" he gestured to Demyx "—but he's dead. Died of a sickness. I loved him. I loved him so much and he didn't even know. He paid more attention to that stupid redheaded lesbian bitch than me."

Kairi, Zexion thought, strange clarity erasing the drunken fogginess of his thoughts. The dread was boiling in his gut like molten steel.

"And I want what you have. I want love. No, I want Sora."

"Sorry, buddy. You can't have either of us, and obviously, Sora is dead," Demyx said almost rudely, surprising Zexion.

Riku turned to the blonde, and on his face was an awful mix of grief, hatred, and longing.

He seemed to hesitate a second; Zexion could only watch in shock as he yanked a pistol from his trenchcoat pocket and fired at Demyx.

One, two, three to the chest. Demyx stumbled back, then fell over, and as Zexion turned he felt a burning, excruciating pain in his leg.

"Demyx," he gasped, toppling over and landing a few feet away from him.

The silver-haired asshole ran, kept running. Zexion could feel his footsteps in every beat of his heart, in every hollow thud of pain.

Demyx, he wanted to scream, but pain stole his breath.

He crawled laboriously to the blond's side; already he was seeing previous visions of Demyx, his longing-filled life. The void was beckoning both, he knew. Don't let him die.

Demyx was hardly breathing. He coughed as Zexion reached him; three dark holes in his chest.

"Demyx," Zexion sobbed, his mouth a grimace in his agony.

"Don't leave me, I love you, don't leave me again, please don't…"

The blonde's glassy ocean eyes dragged to him.

"Z…Zex…ion…"

"Zex…Don't…don't…"

He shuddered, cold. Zexion's horrified gaze was blurry with tears and pain.

"I…l-love…I love….you." Demyx gave a long, weary sigh.

Zexion scooped his head up, bloody fingers clasped in the blonde hair, and watched the light fade from the sea eyes he was so captivated by. Stunned, he stared numbly, then started to sob, fiery pain from his leg echoing throughout his body.

"Demyx," he gasped with every breath.

"Demyx!"

The night looked on. He threw his head back and screamed his name in agony and grief felt to the core, fingers fisting in the soft hair as his own blood joined the fresh puddle on the street, tainting the asphalt a glossy crimson.

Lost, found, then lost again.