Butterfly Medley

summary: Zexion never wanted to play the Good Samaritan to some beat-up blonde kid huddled up in that dark alleyway. He just knew he'd up end with more than he bargained for. Zemyx for Dualism

Chapter One: In which Zexion gives someone a name

It was a dreary sort of day; the day when everyone was covered in umbrellas and no one cared for the poor unfortunate soul caught under the rain without one. Zexion was proud to be one of those of people who didn't care; it gave others the general connotation that he was an asshole. And he was. He rather liked not caring about anyone but himself.

Which is why, on that certain rainy, dreary day, Zexion found himself turning a blind eye on some kid sleeping in a cardboard box on his way home. He liked taking shortcuts, which usually involved dark alleyways and thieves half the time. Fortunately for him, Zexion was an expert in karate, so he had no fears. This encounter, however, proved to be life changing. A few weeks later, Zexion would never take shortcuts ever again.

The kid suddenly woke up and turned bright, blue eyes on him, which took him off-guard. Despite the dirty face, the torn-up clothes and the various bruises all over his skin, there was a strange shimmer of innocence in his eyes that Zexion has never seen before.

The boy blinked, as if Zexion would suddenly disappear if he did. Zexion didn't. Instead, he just stood there, stoic. Which proved to be a big mistake.

Suddenly, Zexion had an armful of the dirty boy, dropping his precious umbrella in the process. "Someone!" he chattered excitedly, clinging to Zexion with joy. "Someone's here! Take me home with you, please!" There was a crunch, and then there laid the remains of his umbrella. The kid didn't even seem to notice that he had just murdered one of Zexion's favorite things in his excitement. He was actually bouncing uncontrollably, and Zexion was starting to get a headache at the swift motion.

He stared at the kid. And then he stared at the umbrella-what was left of it, anyway. He slowly squatted down, picking it up, and shoved it in front of the boy, who was still hanging onto him like a lifeboat. "Look at what you did."

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" he said nervously, still not letting go. "I'll buy you a new one! Promise!"

Zexion was skeptical. "You don't even have money to buy clothes, and you're going to buy me an umbrella?" Pardon his incredulous tone. He was particularly spiteful after the umbrella's demise.

"I will! When I get a job!" He clung to Zexion. "Please take me home," he repeated, chewing on his lip nervously. "You don't have to feed me or anything. Just...a place to stay! Please!"

Zexion stared at the kid, and sighed. "Let go of me," he said curtly. "It's getting late."

"No! I can't! You're the first person who's passed here in months!" the boy said frantically. "No one might come here again!"

"Try your luck on someone else, kid," he said dryly. "Life's unfair. I'm not your guardian angel."

The boy's grip on him tightened. "Just for tonight. Please. Then I'll go away. Please!"

Obnoxious little kid, Zexion thought privately, as he began to walk with the boy clinging on him like a new limb. He ignored the stares of the passersby. It must have been an amusing spectacle; an umbrella-less man with a boy hanging onto him for dear life. Surely Fate could find someone else to play with.

"You're going to let me stay? You are going to, right?" The boy continued to ask questions which Zexion decided to ignore. Perhaps if he ignored him long enough, he would go away. Maybe this was just a horrible nightmare he had yet to wake up from.

The boy still wasn't gone by the time Zexion arrived in his apartment. Luckily, he hadn't encountered any neighbors on his way to his room; he did not need anyone speculating on why this dirtbag was with him. He entered the room and tried to shut the door close on the kid. Unfortunately, the kid was pretty fast He entered the room, bouncing again. "This is a nice place!" he commented, and he tried to sit on the couch. Zexion caught him before he managed to sully it with his dirty presence.

"Bathroom," he said imperiously, shoving the kid into it. "Take a shower and don't get out until you're clean. You're dirty, and you're gonna catch a cold from staying under the rain."

There was a soft smile on the kid's face. "Thank you," he murmured.

Zexion cursed himself and the kid. "Only for tonight," he reminded heartlessly, and shut the door. He contemplated locking the kid in, but the authorities might question him what a dead body was doing in his apartment. Especially since the corpse was underage. Details, details. He didn't want any hysterical mothers with issues about rebellious teenagers. He liked staying out of jail, thank you.

Later on, Zexion looked for some clothes and a spare towel, and knocked on the bathroom door. Surely the kid hadn't drowned himself yet. There was the sound of the running water being turned off, and the door slid open, sky-blue eyes peeking out. Zexion held out the clothes wordlessly, and the boy nodded gratefully. "Mop the bathroom floor after you're done," was all he said, before walking away again. He heard another muffled thank you, and he squashed down any feeling of pity that bloomed within him. Asshole, remember? He didn't need a bigger headache. Life was a bitch enough to deal with.

Once the kid was clean and well dressed, Zexion pointed at the bowl of instant ramen on the table, indicating that was dinner and he had no right to complain. As a man in his early twenties, he was allowed to live off takeout for the next couple of years. The boy eagerly grabbed the food and artlessly stuffed his face. Zexion tried not to wince. All right, he was slightly obsessive compulsive and he hated anything that wasn't clean or refined. He had to be insane to let this kid stay, one night or no.

"I'll clean up," he announced once he was done eating. This earned him a wary glance. He folded his arms and pouted. "I do know how to clean," he said, hands on his hips. And he went to the kitchen to wash the bowls. Zexion shrugged; less work for him. So he trooped up to bed and got a good night's sleep.

The next morning, Zexion woke up to the smell of...coffee? pancakes? His stomach growled. He hadn't had a proper meal in years. Ramen did get a little old after the first three hundred times, but he didn't really have the time to cook. There was also the fact to consider that he didn't know how to cook, but whatever.

He traipsed down the stairs to see the kid in the pink fluffy apron Lexes had given to him last year, proudly setting the plates with eggs and bacon, with pancakes and coffee to boot. "I made breakfast!" He said happily.

Zexion raised an eyebrow as he slid into his seat. "This doesn't mean you're staying."

His face fell. "Why not?"

"I have no intention of getting into a lawsuit with your parents," he said bluntly, forking some of eggs.

There was silence, and Zexion looked up to see the boy with his head down. Yet another big mistake.

"I don't have any parents," he said quietly. There was no further information, and Zexion didn't care to know more. Sob stories were always irritating.

"You're still underage," Zexion pointed out.

He shook his head. "Let me stay," the boy pleaded. "Please. I'll be good! And I'll cook your food. And I'll clean the house! I'll do anything you want, just, please!" He tugged on Zexion's shirt in a desperate sort of way, and Zexion almost dropped his cup of coffee.

Zexion eyed the boy warily. This was exactly what he didn't want to happen. Once you feed some stray cat, they always feel as if they can be at home in your house. He folded his arms. "No."

"Please!" Ah yes, the puppy-dog eyes technique. He had seen this one on Sora's face quite a number of times, but he never imagined being subjected to it. He sighed in resignation, and just continued to eat his breakfast.

When he went home after work, the boy was still there. He was sweeping the room. At least he was being useful, as he promised he would be.

They went for a few days without talking. Zexion preferred to believe that the boy was just a figment of his imagination, and good food was coming down from the heavens for his meals. For his part, the boy seemed happy with just a place to stay, and didn't bother Zexion. The most of their conversation amounted to 'pass the salt.' Which Zexion was thankful for, since he didn't want any more trouble.

Of course, that would have been too good to last. The kid was like a volcano; slowly building up momentum and just exploding. And explode he did.

"Hey, I don't even know your name, mister," he said suddenly, stopping his sweeping. Zexion was comfortably seated in his couch, reading. He didn't even look up.

"It's Zexion."

"That's a weird name."

Zexion snorted. "Hmph." Okay, so apparently he couldn't go on ignoring him forever. He was sealing his fate with his kid, and that was why he refused to ask him the same question. Best to think that nameless objects would go away one day.

"What's your job?"

"Teacher."

"Where?"

"High school."

Which Zexion secretly dubbed as the worst profession ever. Dealing with brats and raging hormones and mood swings was the last thing any adult wanted. This was why Zexion chose bachelorhood. And he didn't like women much, too. But that was beside the point.

"Which high school?"

He turned to him sharply. "This isn't twenty questions."

He smiled sheepishly. "Sorry." He scratched his head. "I just wanted to know more about you."

"You're not even supposed to be here," Zexion said sharply, exasperated. "Please stop pretending this is a normal thing."

This had to be the longest conversation Zexion had had in his life. He hated talking to people. So why was he starting now? This kid was going to be bad for his health.

The kid bit his lip. "You never forced me to go out," he said softly.

"I never forced you to stay in, either," Zexion replied stiffly. "So what are you still doing here?"

He clenched his fists. "Do you...do you want me to leave?" his voice had gone all wobbly and sad. Pity that Zexion could be heartless when he wanted to.

"Of course I do," he said in a bored tone, and he returned to his book.

The boy didn't leave. Not that Zexion expected him to.

"I don't have a name," he said suddenly during dinner. It had already been a week.

"That's not my problem," Zexion replied automatically. Apparently, nothing was his problem nowadays. This kid was just a mess. Why hadn't he kicked him out yet?

"I guess." They were mostly silent after that.

Zexion had now convinced himself that as long as the kid stayed silent, this thing would work out. He would buy a few cooking materials when the boy hinted they were running out, and his place stayed clean without him having to do something about it. He didn't have to be responsible for him. He had some clothes that had gotten small; he would lend that. Basically, everything was working out fine.

Until Axel came into the picture. Axel, as in his nosy colleague, who had been suspicious of Zexion going home every day instead of going out to drink with the rest of the staff. Now, in the choice of good food cooked at his own house and getting drunk at some seedy bar, Zexion opted for the former. It was definitely more peaceful. The only reason he went with them before was because he didn't want to eat ramen.

Axel had come that very evening, and basically went hysterical.

The redhead stared at him who was sitting on the couch, and then at the kid who was innocently sweeping the floor. "You...you child molester!" he suddenly roared, pointing an accusing finger at him. "Look at him, Zexion! He's not even eighteen years old!"

There was a muffled squawk of rage. "Hey! I'm sixteen! I'm not a child!"

"He's fucking underage!" Axel hissed. "What's he doing here?!"

Zexion shrugged. "How should I know?" The slate-haired man rolled his eyes at Axel's horrified look. "He was the one who wanted to stay here."

The boy nodded. "Yeah. Got a problem with that?" he said challengingly. Zexion found it amusing that Axel backed away a few steps. The kid looked about as harmless as a chocobo. But then again, so did Roxas. Perhaps Axel had learned that blonde boys with blue eyes were never one to cross with. He snorted at the thought.

"Sheesh! Where'd you pick up the nasty manner?" Axel rounded at Zexion. "So now you've got some kid in your house. Is that why you've been going home early?" There was a smirk, and how Zexion wished he could wipe it off Axel's face.

"Fuck off, Axel," he said calmly. "You're the only one with a fetish for younger boys."

Axel's jaw dropped open, and the boy giggled. He glared at both of them. "Shut up!" he snarled, and he settled on the couch beside Zexion. "So who is he?" he asked, pointing at the kid who was still giggling.

The giggles stopped. "I'm-"

"Demyx."

The two turned to look at Zexion, who didn't bother to look up from the book he was reading. "His name is Demyx."

Axel blinked; Demyx smiled.

"Demyx," he echoed, his smile from ear to ear. "Yeah, my name's Demyx."

And this, Zexion thought with an inward sigh, is my biggest mistake.