What the hell was HE doing here?
Zexion was seething, not an uncommon mood for him, in fact, he had locked himself away in his room far too many times to count. However, the circumstances surrounding this black mood were far from common.
It was that dammed kid. The newest member of Organization 13.... They were at 9 now, and that... abomination was mocking him. Showing him the face of his alive, yet very dead best friend.
In all honesty, he was the same abomination. A shadow of his former self.
Why in the name of KINGDOM HEARTS did he have to remember THAT other life?! 6 would have given anything, absolutely anything to forget that.
Which was why he had cut the new member to pieces with his cold, calculating mind.
He didn`t care how much that ... THING cried. He only wanted its presence gone, so he didn`t have to suffer again.
He wanted ANYTHING but the memories.
Yes it was selfish but dammit he had dealt with enough!
Zexion growled, throwing his book with as much force as he could muster into the mirror hanging on his otherwise blank wall.
The mirror cracked, but didn`t shatter. With another frustrated cry he buried his head in his hands, yanking his slate blue hair furiously. Why? Why is it not enough?! Why is it never enough?! I paid my debt! I protected him from those... things.....In return for dragging him into my world.....
"You didn`t protect him. You saw a way out and you took it. Ienzo."
Zexion`s hands tightened around his head as that loathsome voice made it`s way in. 'My name is ZEXION you sick bastard!'
"Zexion. Ienzo. You`re still the same worthless coward. If you had really wanted to protect him. Then you would have killed me that night."
"Shut up. Shut up. SHUT UP!"
"I`ll never go away. I`ll always be here. Because you`re too weak to end me. Because you NEED me."
Zexion shook his head, willing the snide, oily voice to be silenced. "I d-don`t need you."
"Yes you do my dear boy. You do."
Finally, the voice went silent, leaving the bluenette shivering, still holding his head with crushing force between his hands. He fought a wave of ice cold that washed over him, accompanied with the shame of knowing he was weak. Of knowing he would never be liberated from that voice. That dammed voice that constantly threw his failures back into his face.
It didn`t matter that it was Ienzo who was the being in the memories, because Zexion knew what the others didn`t.
They were the same, down to the very last strand of DNA.
He was the Master of Illusions, the Cloaked Schemer.
And nothing but a weak, sniveling, coward.