(A/N: For Mo. Promise you haven't read this one yet. I know it kinda sucks. I'm sorry! (sobs) And while I wrote this I was listening to Jim Sturgess's cover af Across the Universe by the Beatles. Jai guru deva om!)
(thoughts)
A Picture of the Ocean
by AoNoShi
Zexion closed the door quietly behind him.
Great. A new mission. And a lecture from the Superior, to boot.
'Nobody.'
'Nothing.'
'They're the same thing.'
(Why am I here?)
Jutting out his lower lip, he blew a sigh upward. His bangs fluttered and revealed a rare glimpse of an intelligent blue-black eye before settling into place again.
The Superior sure had a way of making people feel bad about themselves.
'Feel' used in the loosest sense of the word of course.
He shoved his hands into the inconspicuous black pockets of his coat and headed down the hallway. He wandered for ten minutes. He counted the number of steps he took and of doors he passed. Then he counted the number of breaths he took.
(I can breathe, right? I breathe in air and convert it to carbon dioxide. So I'm part--a small part but still-- of things, right? Part of the universe. I exist--)
He stopped. He waited for the dark aching hole in his chest to go numb again.
He needed to think about something else.
So Zexion went to the library. His haven of books.
In the library, the shelves were painted pure white. In some places on the ledges of each shelf, the paint had been rubbed away to reveal the pale, yellowish wood underneath. Different members of the Organization did this to mark where their favorite books were. Zexion idly ran his finger over one such spot, under a book by the Marquis de Sade that he knew Larxene kept rereading. (It's kind of funny,) he mused, (that instead of recommending books to each other verbally, we communicate like this.)
As a general rule, people did not talk much in the World that Never Was.
Personally, Zexion liked the blue books.
In this room, almost all the books were covered in snowy white paper book sleeves. He suspected Xemnas had acquired them specifically to match the decor (if you can call all-white 'decor') of the castle.
Some white things Zexion liked. The Beatles' White Album, for example. Or even a fresh sheet of paper, waiting to be covered with words and notes and diagrams and pictures. (Sometimes I want to draw all over all this perfect white.) But endless shelves of white books reminded him of endless...(nothing.) Reminded him, perhaps, of what happened after a Nobody died?
(Why am I here?)
But he preferred not to think about that.
So, the blue books.
They were the books that, for some reason, were not covered. Zexion had found they were usually textbooks. They were refreshing to him, both in the knowledge they provided, and in the way their color stood out from the monochromatic tedium.
He turned down another aisle and tapped the spine of each book along the shoulder-length shelf as he went. (White, white, white, white, white, white, white, white...blue.)
He pulled out the unmarked book and flipped open to the title page.
Space.
(It will suffice.)
The chairs in the library were, predictably, white. And uncomfortable. He sat in one, setting the book reverently on the white table.
He skipped over the first few blank pages, moved past the title page, and stopped on Introduction: The Universe.
He paused when he thought he heard a quiet shuffling behind the shelves, but after a few moments, he started to read.
Anyone watching Zexion as he read would have been amazed at how fast his eyes swept across the page. it was a smooth, practiced motion; the way they moved left to right, left to right was hypnotic. you could see reflected in his eyes how the word would be absorbed, mulled over, and comprehended all in less than a second.
He read through the five pages of the introduction, turned to Chapter One: Formation of the Solar System, and stopped.
Slowly, his head lowered until his forehead was resting on the book. The thoughts he had attempted to leave behind in the silent corridors had caught up to him. Unblinkingly, his eyes stared straight ahead at the text, but he didn't really see the words.
He hated this.
Living here, constantly reminded of his own nonexistence.
Working for Xemnas for a heart that could never truly be their own.
It was goddamned depressing.
(Why am I here?)
"Uh...hi?"
Startled, Zexion's head jerked up. Someone was standing at the other side of the table.
He was surprised he hadn't noticed the other Nobody's entrance. Usually he was pretty loud.
The exception to the rule. The only one who did talk much-- very much-- in the World That Never Was.
(Demyx.) The closest he had to a friend in this place.
"You okay Zexy? Cuz you looked kinda sad," Demyx said. Zexion noticed he was quieter than usual. His voice really was kind of melodious when he wans't jabbering at top speed.
"I'm fine," he eventually replied.
"Really?" Demyx sat down in the opposite chair, propping his elbows up on the table. He smiled cheerfully, reminding Zexion of the differences between the two of them. (Always smiling...)
"What are you doing in here?" he asked, ignoring Demyx's question.
Demyx's eyebrows shot up, and his mouth opened slightly. Zexion noticed the slight widening of bright bluegreen eyes, the quiet but sharp intake of breath, and the subtle color that rushed to his cheeks.
"Um," he said. (How eloquent.)
Zexion tilted his head slightly and waited.
"Um, well, it's not that interesting really..."
He was silent, making it clear that he was expecting an answer.
Demyx's shoulders slumped, but his eyes turned pleading. His fingers interlaced under his chin as if he were praying.
"Please don't tell Xemnas," he begged.
Zexion nodded, and Demyx slowly reached under the table (He's very dramatic-- very animated.), sheepishly producing one of the white library books from his lap. He set it in the middle of the table and looked up at him anticipatively.
All he got in return was a blank stare.
"Turn it over," Demyx told him, fidgeting.
Zexion pushed his blue book to the side and pulled the white one toward him, flipping it to the other side as it slid across the table.
What he saw shocked him. He actually tucked his bangs behind one ear to see it better.
It was a picture. An underwater scene.
The water was bluegreen, darkening subtly near the bottom to show depth. Sea life was abundant in a plethora of colors. But what Zexion liked the most about the picture was the movement it showed. he could see and octopus's legs stretching out elegantly, swishing in the water. A school of fish flashed electric blue as they swam swiftly to other feeding grounds. On the sea floor, a hermit crab tentatively stuck its head out of its shell and saw green strands of kelp undulating in the current All of this life was protected by the water around it, which eddied and swirled around them, glimmering in silvery shafts of sunlight that filtered down from the world above.
'(Sometimes I want to draw all over all this perfect white.) '
Maybe they were more alike than he had thought.
Demyx was studying his expression carefully when he looked up.
"...Do you like it?" he asked. Which also meant, Are you going to tell on me?
"I like it, yes...very much." He couldn't find the right words to explain. his response seemed woefully inadequate. But Demyx grinned gleefully and started a lively (if one-sided) discussion about animals in the ocean.
Usually he would zone out, but this time he actually paid attention, nodding occasionally to show he was listening. To his surprise (Number IX kept doing that, surprising him) the blonde actually knew what he was talking about.
"You must have read this a lot," he mentioned when Demyx stopped for breath. He had been flipping through the book and had noticed smudgy fingerprints and dog-eared pages.
"Oh yeah! It's my favorite book."
He was smiling still, and bouncing slightly in his seat.
Zexion turned to the title page.
Oceans and Ocean Life.
It was actually a pretty thick book. Not one he would have pegged as the bubbly sitar-player's favorite.
"So you like the ocean," he murmured. He closed the book and let his eyes drink in more of Demyx's picture. This was the longest he'd had both eyes visible for a long time.
"Well..." Demyx's bobbing stopped. "I've never actually seen the ocean--"
(Hm, he's actually being still...no wait, he's playing with his fingers now.)
"--but I really, really want to!"
He was surprised again.
"You've never seen the ocean, but you draw it so beautifully." He was talking more to himself, but Demyx answered him anyway.
"I look at the pictures in there a lot. And read the descriptions of the different animals. Sometimes, I can even remember flashes of being underwater. Before, I mean."
Once again, Zexion realized that there was more to the other Nobody than met the eye. He wondered what had happened to make the Demyx's Somebody into a Heartless.
Number IX was talking almost seriously, but his eyes were wide and enthusiastic.
Just looking at him, Zexion could see his passion for the sea. It made him happy.
Alright, so maybe Nobodies can feel.
A rare smile graced his lips.
"Hey." Demyx interrupted his thoughts.
"Hm?"
"You wanna color some books?"
He only hesitated a moment.
"Sure."
Demyx leaped out of his seat.
"I'll go get my pencils," he said. "I found them on a mission when I was 'sposed to be going to Halloweentown but ended up in the Christmas village instead."
Zexion found the corner of his mouth twitching upward again.
"Demyx."
He turned.
"Yeah?"
"The Superior just gave me a new assignment. Would you like to come with me?"
"Sure! Where is it?"
"Atlantica."
The sitarist blinked once, then smiled (Always smiling...).
This smile was Zexion's favorite because it showed genuine emotion (emotion!). Joy.
Demyx all but skipped out of the room.
Number VI leaned back in his chair.
The hole in his chest was acting up again, but in a different manner this time. It was unfamiliar, but pleasant.
(Why am I here?)
Zexion closed his eyes and thought of notes from a sitar ebbing and flowing like an ocean tide.
(I'm here for you.)
The (Sappy) End.
Reviews appreciated.