A/N: Well, here's some more Saïx/Demyx for you guys – they're my favorite crack!pairing, currently. Enjoy, and drown in the angst, most likely.
Warnings: This story contains shonen-ai/yaoi. Yes, that means boy/boy love. Don't like it, don't read. Flames will be used to roast marshmallows, or simply given to my pyromaniac sister. She loves playing with them.
Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts, Kingdom Hearts: Chain of Memories, or Kingdom Hearts 2, nor any of the characters, plots, or themes therein. I am simply writing for the pleasure of doing so.
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In all of his existence--or as many would undoubtedly say, his non-existence--there has only ever been one person that Saïx could truly talk to.
Not just in the meaning of idle chatter, like so many of his comrades do; no, this has always been talking in the sense that he could pour his heart out, and that one person--just one, no more--would always listen.
In some times, it seems that Saïx could never ask for more out of his life.
Now, as has become his habit for some time, he sits at his nearly blank desk. There is nothing there that would provide any warmth or welcome, and yet that is where he chooses to sit. It is empty, a perfectly blank canvas on which to convey his thoughts.
Before him lays a sheet of paper - blank, other than the lines running horizontally across it. Waiting, waiting for him to use the black, ballpoint pen that hovers in one hand above its surface.
Sometimes, he has done this elsewhere, such as the castle library. On those occasions, the other members of the Organization are constantly curious as to what he does. But he never lets them see the words that flow from his mind to the paper; no, only one person could ever see them.
As Saïx lowers the point of the pen to touch the blank paper, he can see, just past the edge of his vision, the face of that solitary one - his one connection to the world, the one important thing he has ever wanted to possess.
The smile on that face is the same as it always has been; a completely accepting face, framed by a dirty blonde color. Glowing eyes, happy as they should always be seen.
When he thinks of that face, he can hear the music that so often accompanied it as clearly as if through his own ears.
And so it is, thinking of that face--not only a number, but the name that went along with it--that Saïx begins to write.
He writes of everything he has seen, using words of beautiful simplicity that the others would never expect to hear--or read--from him. He writes of everything he has thought of, from the mysterious Kingdom Hearts, to the strange whirl of what is not allowed to be emotion flooding in his form of non-existence. He writes of the events that take place each day in the Castle That Never Was, from small to large.
And all the while, Saïx thinks of that smiling face - Demyx's face.
Always, even though he so pours out his thoughts and his myriad of supposedly empty emotions, he finds himself avoiding the one thought looming largest in his mind. Every time he writes, it is cast aside, causing an almost physical gap in his words. That is the one thing he never speaks of, and so longs to forget as truth.
But at the same time, it is the one thing that keeps him going.
When he finishes writing, Saïx does not sign his name at the end of the long chain of words. For long moments of silence, he allows his pen to linger above the paper. There is one more touch he must add, before it is finished. And it is always the most difficult - he has always known why.
For one last instant, he summons the image of that smiling face. He wants to close his eyes, but is unable, as with a shaking hand, he writes the name to go with that face at the top of the paper, now full of every thought and plausible word his mind has placed on it. /Demyx/.
That is when, finally, Saïx allows the gap in his writing to materialize in his mind. It brings with it the same wave of undeniable emotion that it did the first time he thought of it, and every time since.
Everything that was ever important to him…has faded away. And it has left him with nothing, just as he started, what seems like an eternity ago.
With one swift motion, Saïx sweeps the parchment he has been writing upon into a drawer in his desk. The note has no destination but somewhere he cannot yet reach. And so it remains, just as he does.
And Saïx wonders why he so tortures himself, by writing these letters to nowhere.
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A/N: Well, I hope you enjoyed reading this. Remember, reviews make me happy - and a happy authoress equals more fics!