I've toyed with the idea for days now... I love to think he would play piano, Saïx, because it's such a wonderfully expressive instrument if played by the right hands... and he seems like he could make that mother sing. With the way Demyx is, I'd imagine he'd be more into strings... not straying outside that category of instruments...

Now, don't shoot me. Really there's no pairing. There's stuff about his life as a somebody too, but well... it's just me being stupid. Forgive me. I'm also in a really good mood music-wise because I got a new guitar today, and I'm still bleeding the excitement all over the place.

Oh, and if you're interested, these are real piano pieces. I love Chopin...

Listen to the pieces if possible... the first is Ocean Etude Op.25 No.12, and the second that I had in mind is Nocturne No. 8 in D flat Op.27 No.2.

Disclaimer: I own nothing that is KH, nor the music mentioned. The writing, however, is mine.

EDIT!!!

So, this was beta'd by the wonderful Mousewolf once again... :) It's better than ever. Enjoy, guys.

Slowly, carefully, he approached the grand, standing majestically at the back of the room, like a wary animal. Its key cover was folded back, each ivory key grinning at him, an inlay of black like gaps between tombstones. The beautiful black instrument of something as equally empty and cold, it grinned up at him and begged, begged, begged incessantly for him to caress it as a lover would.

He stood, cold, emotionless as the moon that bathed him in its pale light.

"Look, I've seen you do it before…" The boy was beside him, all sandy hair and pouts and pleading ocean eyes, "You have to do it for me now… just this once!"

"Demyx, I do not enjoy this…"

"Please, just once. Please, only now, just this once and I'll never tell anyone," the blond begged, "It's like the one instrument I can't play! You can, though!"

The Berserker sighed.

"Alright," Saïx grumbled, "But only this one time! Never pester me like this again. Do you promise?"

"I do!" Demyx said sincerely, "Will you, please?"

There were no further words to be exchanged. He sat down at the bench, folding his coat's long bottom piece aside and sitting up ramrod straight. He placed his fingers on the keys, but there was a pause, a lull much like he remembered having as a somebody, sitting before all those people and their wide staring eyes, hungry for the music to come. He took a deep breath, held…

The plunge was epic: like the cavalry driving like a blade into battle or jumping into cold water on a hot day, seeing a meteor shower while making love to that beautiful red-haired girl on the hood of his car that summer that he swore he would never forget.

Chopin. He just flows into it, an expression somewhere between pain and sheer, unadulterated ecstasy etched on his usually solemn face. This was a song he loved in life… he still loves it if he can really bring himself to search it over. Ocean Etude Op 25 No 12.

It flowed from him, perfect time, and perfect speed. He broke the rules: he arched his back, leaning in closer toward the keys the way he always found himself doing in the many performances. His hands move with maniac speed. The song breaks into its climax, and he throws back his head, a vicious smile on his face. Silvery blue takes flight.

He was in a world of his own until the last notes roared from the strings. He straightened his hair out, smoothed his coat. He always hated looking ruffled. "There. You had your performance. Will you go to bed now?"

"Yeah…" Demyx whispered, his voice filled with shock and awe.

"Good. I'll see you in the morning then. I trust you can find your way back to your room on your own?"

"Yeah, um… S-Saïx…"

"Yes?"

"Why did you stop playing?"

He thought about it for a moment, hands still lightly gracing the keys. Thought about nightmares of silence, of staring, mocking eyes, of so many people watching him. "I don't know."

Full lips frowned slightly, but Demyx turned away. "Good night, Saïx…"

"Good night, Demyx."

He listened to the hesitant footsteps. The blond seemed sad to go. He waited until the room was silent, and took a deep breath.

His hands moved of their own accord: this time, he played a Nocturne.