Disclaimer: I never have and never will own Kingdom Hearts. I do, however, own my brain, which came up with slovenly mess.
A/N: Well, hello, Zemyx fans and any potential returning readers to my work. Welcome to 'The Devil Can Wait', a story that I originally wrote for Zemyx Day (6/9/10) but that never got finished. I decided to continue to work on it and then post it up on Dexion Day (9/6/10), a day that I had never actually posted something for this lovely couple. It was originally meant to be a one-shot, but in order to upload anything on Dexion Day (and keep it within a reasonable word limit, I decided to split this story into two pieces. The second part is not finished and I don't know when it will be. I can, however, promise to work hard on it to get it done as quickly as possible. Some of you may have noticed that I have changed my name, getting rid of the dot between Lifes and Lover. It wasn't an easy decision to make, because I love that dot (I know, pathetic), but I decided that the dot was not necessary and since I could no longer put my name down in my stories due to the dot (and neither could anyone else), that it would be best if I got rid of it. Hopefully this will not confuse you since the change is very minimal.
Warning: Here you will find some questionable material. Do not be alarmed at the Twilight/Stephanie Meyer/fan mongrel bashing you'll find within. They do not necessarily reflect my own views. You will also find a highly fictional, highly implausible story behind the creation of the world and any and all religious readers may choose to not read this if they're susceptible to getting angry at differing views on religion. Again, it does not necessarily reflect my own views regarding religion of any type. I highly stress that this is a work of fiction and is meant to merely entertain, not cause a religious debate. This has also not been beta-ed by anyone but me and I only did it sparingly over the four months I've been writing this story. Therefore, any and all mistakes are mine and should be overlooked for now until I can have this beta-ed when I'm not on a deadline.
Please enjoy my first contribution to Dexion Day, my first long story in well over a year, and my first two-shot, period.
The Devil Can Wait
Zexion Zalman was in an exceptionally foul mood.
Everyone around him believed that it was because his bagels were charred, his cucumber sandwiches didn't have cucumbers in them but rather zucchini (how ever did they make that mistake?), and the stylist trying to calm down his hair (which had had a rather unfortunate accident that morning involving a hair dryer and an outlet) was successfully pulling him bald.
But they were wrong. No, while all that had happened to him since this morning was unfortunate and capable of putting anyone in a bad mood, what had happened was merely the tip of the iceberg.
No, Zexion Zalman had already been in a bad mood.
Really, there was a saying for this sort of instance. Oh, what was it…? Ah, yes: Zexion Zalman had, quite simply, woken up on the wrong side of the bed.
You get the saying, right?
From the moment Zexion had awoken that morning, he had known that it was just going to be one of those days.
If Zexion thought about it for a moment, he could probably say that had he woken up on the right side of the day, or at least had had a positive outlook for the day, he might have had a better day.
But Zexion had a logical mind, not a philosophical one, so he'd shudder at even the thought that he'd ever think that.
But, well, Zexion had been awoken before he wanted to, before he was supposed to, and thus his mind was not up to its normal par. Hence, also, the reason for why he was in such a foul mood.
Really, it was all her fault.
Zexion turned a murderous glare over to her. She was a beautiful woman, with long hair the color of chocolate and oval eyes the color of hazel.
Olette saw his gaze turned towards her and met it with a cool level one of her own. She was not afraid of Zexion Zalman. Really, the man was more bark than bite.
She glanced away from him, turning instead towards the quivering man next to her, who was afraid of Zexion and his glare.
"Tell me," she began, "why everything is going so wrong today? We specifically ordered everything a certain way. Do remember, please, that you were the one who wanted Zexion to come, and not the other way around."
The man licked his lips. "I have no idea how it happened. The zucchini sandwiches are entirely my fault."
"Look," Olette sighed, "why don't you try to get everything fixed and maybe Zexion will be in a marginally better mood. Oh, and do forgive him for being so terribly moody this morning. Really, he'd be better if he hadn't had to wake up so early."
The man nodded, scurrying away to work on fixing all of what had gone wrong. Olette shook her head, hands coming up to settle on her hips. This book signing was a disaster, poorly planned by the ones who were supposed to know what to do.
Really, did she have to do everything? She made her way over to Zexion, who was hardening his face against the pain as the stylist continued to attack his hair.
"Hello, Olette," he murmured, murderous glint still shining in his eyes. "So, what else is going to go wrong today?"
Olette just rolled her eyes, holding up an earpiece. "You know the drill. It's a signing, so it should be cut and dry simple. You'll smile, laugh, talk a little, sign the book, and then move on to the next. Do not upset anyone, you understand me?"
"You're not a very nice publisher," he muttered as he took the earpiece and sticking it in place, wincing as the stylist yanked out a knot of hair. "What are you doing back there?" he asked her, irritation lacing his words.
"And you're not a very nice writer." Olette smiled. "I guess we'll just have to shelve those dreams about us being different and move on."
Zexion turned back around from where he had been glaring at the stylist, who had been apologizing profusely, and glared at Olette.
Olette returned the glare before turning her attention to the stylist. "Oh, hush, Kairi, and stop apologizing. You don't have to act like Zexion's the King of Sheba. He's merely a writer."
Zexion huffed. "Will you finish up?" he growled at Kairi, who squeaked and went back to work.
"Be nice to the hired help," Olette admonished before noticing something out of the corner of her eye and scurrying away to help the still trembling bookshop owner carry in new trays full of sandwiches that were made with cucumbers and not zucchini.
Zexion was left behind in the chair as Kairi finished perfecting Zexion's hairstyle. Really, had Zexion not woken up in a bad mood from having been awoken then maybe the mess his hair had become wouldn't have been quite so bad. After all, if he really thought about it, he shouldn't have tried so hard to jam the plug of the hair dryer into the outlet, because it is stupid to force something into an electrical outlet when it just won't go in.
But Zexion didn't want to think about it because the very thought of him thinking he was stupid was just ludicrous and inaccurate.
"Okay, Zexion," Olette said, smiling as she returned, fitting her own earpiece into her ear, "you ready? They're going to open the doors soon."
"I suppose, if I have to be."
"Great," she enunciated, "then let's get this show on the road."
Zexion Zalman was a writer.
But he was not just a writer. He was one of those writers. You know the kind… the ones that are insufferable and stuck so far up their own ass they'll need cephalanalectomy to get it out?
Yeah, that kind. That was what Zexion was.
In Zexion's defense, if Zexion were the type to think he needed a defense (do try to remember, he is one of those writers), he deserved to be one of those kinds of writers.
After all, he was very, very, good and the adoring public only helped to swell his already monstrous-sized ego.
But nevertheless, Zexion was one of those kinds of writers, and it affected his day-to-day dealings.
For example, right now.
"I just love your work so much!"
Zexion smiled, nodding at the older woman staring down at him as she smiled, glimmered, clapped her hands and even did a little jump: all because she had met her favorite writer of all time.
Personally, Zexion just wanted to stick her in the neck with his fountain pen and be done with her.
Zexion wasn't a people person. He definitely wasn't a fan-people person. Sure, she was great for his publicity, and he could always do with a few of those types of people because, really, a loyal fan base is what a writer searches for first and foremost.
He supposed he could stand her for just a little while longer. And then she said what no one should ever say to an author.
"Why, the only thing I enjoy more is the Twilight series."
Zexion paused from his position of writing in her copy of his book, and, off to the sidelines, Olette cursed under her breath, having heard the comment coming from the woman. She turned the earpiece on.
"Zexion, just smile and nod. Okay, get it, just smile and nod and hand her the book."
Zexion continued to stay paused. "Zexion," she tried again, "we all know that you're better than Stephanie Meyer could ever be. This woman's nothing more than a fan-monger, let her leave and move on."
Zexion closed his eyes and finished signing with a flourish. "Thank you very much for the compliments, ma'am, and I hope you enjoy my new book."
Oh, yes, Zexion was able to bullshit with the best of them. He even liked it. But never before had he ever wanted to not bullshit more in his life.
He wanted to give that old lady a piece of his mind.
You never, never, told an author that you liked someone else's work more than theirs, especially when it's a book or series that the author didn't even like.
It was a cardinal rule, practically.
Zexion, however, just breathed out through his nose, under the directions of Olette, who had been Zexion's publisher for four years already and knew the man quite well. At this point, the man should know better than to get riled up when a fan said something he didn't agree with, but Zexion just couldn't help it sometimes.
He was, after all, one of those kinds.
It was only when the signing was done four long, insufferable, hours later that Zexion felt he could unclench his muscles and finally relax.
He stepped into the limo with Olette and they were off.
"So," Olette said, "I think that went rather well, all things considered."
Zexion looked at her, and then pushed his head to the other side. Things had not gone well. The whole day hadn't gone well. Whatever was she going on about?
"I don't see how anything remotely went well today," he finally answered her.
"Well, the bookshop didn't blow up and Armageddon hasn't fallen down upon us and as far as we know, we're both still alive and in good health. You should look at the silver lining."
Zexion scoffed. He knew exactly where Olette could shove her silver lining.
He was glad to be done with her for the day as the limo dropped her off at the hotel and then took him along to a restaurant for lunch.
The peace that reigned supreme after she was gone was something that Zexion truly relished. Silence had never been so golden.
"You really should be nicer, you know."
Zexion's head popped up from its position lying back against the head rest.
"What?" he exclaimed upon finding, much to his surprise, someone else in the back of the limo with him.
Even more to his surprise, this person didn't look like he belonged anywhere on this plane of existence.
Although his hair was abnormal for this period in time, it was normal to the world. That, though, was as far as things went.
Clothed on his body was not what Zexion could ever term clothes. It was more like a liquid shift, something that left nothing to the imagination and yet covered him from head to toes. It had no folds, no creases, nothing to assume that it was clothing except for the fact that it was black and stopped at his neck, hands and feet, and the rest of his body showed normal skin.
But even then, his clothing was not the strangest part. No, what was the strangest part was the thick tail wrapping around from behind him and curling out into the open and down his left leg. And the small horns jutting out of his forehead just added to the strange appearance.
Had Halloween come early?
As far as Zexion remembered, it was still June.
"Who are you?" he asked stiffly, back pressing far into the leather of his seat as the… creature… leaned forward, grinning.
"Who am I? Well, I suppose you could say that I have no name. I am, after all, a nothing and thus not something. But I guess you'll need something to call me by, even though that will make me a something and not a nothing. I'll let you call me… Demyx, since that was my name from when I was still alive."
Zexion just stared. "Are you okay?" he asked. "If you're insane, I'd really rather that you weren't in my limo."
"Well, that's not very nice," the boy-man-creature-nothing-something-thing said. "See, I told you, you should be nicer to people."
"How'd you get in here?"
The man waved his hand blithely through the air, as though swiping away at the question. "Never mind how I got in here. You should be more worried about how you're going to get out."
"Excuse me?"
'Demyx' rolled his eyes. "What; am I being too cryptic or something? You need to get out of this car and I'm talking about now, not in fifteen minutes."
"Why do I need to get out of my very nice limo just because you tell me to? And, for that matter, why are you here, telling me something like that? I should think that you're not the nice one, since you are being, as you so say, 'cryptic'," Zexion spat, fed up with this obviously insane man.
How he got into the car was simple. He must have been in the front and climbed through the divider between the front and back when Zexion was preoccupied. That just had to be it.
Demyx pouted. "Again, not nice. Here I am, trying to save you from an utterly ghastly death and all you're doing is spouting off at the mouth. Where did gratitude go in the years I've been dead?" he sighed melodramatically.
"If you do not leave me be right now, I swear that I shall call the police on you."
Demyx merely stared him down. "After Satan, I think I can handle the police." Then he paused, truly turning serious. "I wasn't kidding, you know: you need to get out of this car… now."
"Why do I need to get out of this car!" Zexion asked, completely snapping.
"Because you'll die if you stay! There's going to be a horrible accident and there'll be no survivors! You need to get out now!" Demyx responded in kind.
Zexion opened his mouth to retort when Demyx's head snapped up, a grim expression overtaking his features.
"Well, I'd wanted you to do this the easy way, but I guess you won't cooperate. I suppose I shouldn't have expected any less from you, Zexion," he went on to say before grabbing Zexion and then-
Pain-
Oh, God, the pain, how could anything feel like you were being ripped apart atom by atom? Zexion would have opened his mouth to scream in agony, but it felt like he had no mouth. No mouth, no skin, no bones, no body, nothing. There one minute, disintegrating the next.
And then he was back, skittering across the cement pavement. He forced his head up in time to watch as the limo he had just been in blew a red light and was T-boned by an eighteen-wheeler entering the intersection. The limo blew up immediately.
"Oh, my God," he whispered, shaking and forcing himself to his feet, the unbelievable pain he had just experienced nothing but a distant memory in the wake of what could have been his death before him.
"That's why I had to get you out," said a voice from behind him.
He whipped around to note Demyx leaning against the brick wall, watching the blaze as people screamed all around, ducking down and covering their heads, the roar and heat from the blaze feeling as though it was singing at his ears, his skin, his very being.
"W-W-What…?" he stuttered, feeling as though he was coming undone once again.
"There was a gasoline leak. The truck, when it hit the limo, basically acted as a catalyst: there was too much friction, too much of a spark when it hit the limo. There was no way you would have survived."
"H-How would you know all that?" he whispered, licking his lips nervously as his body still shook from the shock.
Demyx sighed, turning around and then turning back. "I'm a demon, okay."
"Demon? A-Aren't demons evil?" Zexion asked, licking his lips again. "I-If you're evil, then why help me?"
"Yeah, well," Demyx said irritably, "I'm apparently not a very good one."
Zexion shuddered, backing up slowly. "Why would you save me?"
Zexion's notions of what was possible had been completely obliterated. There was no way he could have been in the limo one minute and then on the ground the next. He hadn't been blown from the limo during the accident: he had no such marks on his body, aside from the fact that he had watched as the limo was hit.
Demyx sighed, suddenly looking very uncomfortable. "Let's just leave it at the fact that I hate seeing someone die."
"No, no, that's not how it works. What about the driver?" he said. "You didn't s-save him. Why me and… and why not him?"
"I'm not going to tell you, so just leave it alone!" Demyx snarled, exploding.
Zexion, who might not have been affected normally, was already quite rattled from the car crash, so it was none too surprising when he jumped at Demyx's words.
It didn't take him long to turn and walk away quickly.
Demyx cursed, the words hissing out of his mouth. People rushing along the sidewalk to get to the scene of the accident jumped and screamed as a nearby gutter exploded, sewage spilling out onto the street. Demyx, however, paid none of this any mind; he was too busy trying to catch up to Zexion, who was still teetering away.
"Hey, Zexion, come on, just wait!"
"No, no!" Zexion sped up, wishing he was as far away from this demon as he could be. Everything he'd ever known, everything he'd ever believed had just been turned on his head. If there was a demon, was there actually a devil? And if the Devil existed, then did that mean God did, too?
It made Zexion's head hurt. He wasn't the religious sort and this went against everything he'd ever believed in.
Demyx scoffed. "Oh, come on, Zexion, you act like I'm the Devil incarnate!"
"Gee, I wonder why!" Zexion shouted, legs picking up even more to try and get as far away as possible from Demyx.
Demyx cursed again, before losing patience and disappearing in a snap.
Looking behind him, Zexion barely had any time to be relieved that Demyx was gone before he bumped into the body of someone in front of him. Turning around, he was about to apologize and go around before he came head to chest with none other than his apparent stalker.
"You!" he sputtered, before backing away. "No, that's not fair, I should be able to walk away without having to fear that you'll always be a step ahead of me: literally!"
"I'm a demon, what more did you expect?" Demyx sighed irritably. "Look, would you just listen to me?"
"Why should I listen!" Zexion exploded, standing on his tiptoes to try and get closer to Demyx's face.
Demyx had had enough. "Oh, I don't know, maybe because I just saved your life!"
"Who asked you! I know that I certainly wasn't the one to do so!"
"Oh, well then, I guess the next time Satan decides to go after you, I'll just let you die!" Demyx burst out, anger boiling through his words.
Zexion scoffed. "You do that and leave me the hell alone while you're at it!"
"Oh, that's rich! You know what, you are such an ungrateful little bas-," Demyx said, only to suddenly pause.
"Oh, I'm an ungrateful little what? Is the big bad demon too scared to insult little old Zexion?" Zexion jabbed, smirking in triumph.
"No, shut up…," Demyx said, head turning to the side in concentration.
"Excuse me!" he raged. "You do not talk to me that way! You have no right!"
"I said shut up!" Demyx exploded. "He's here… we have to get you out now!"
"Who's here?" Zexion asked, distracted from yelling more at Demyx. Suddenly Demyx grabbed his wrist and started to pull him along the sidewalk. "Hey, what are you doing! Stop tugging on my wrist: that hurts!"
"We have to get you out now!"
"No, we don't have to do anything! Weren't you the one who said that you weren't going to save me the next time," Zexion said, flailing against the iron grip on his wrist.
Demyx cursed again, the words sizzling through the air and making the hairs on the back of Zexion's neck stand at attention, before he whirled around and wrapped his arms tightly around Zexion.
Zexion barely had time to squeak before the all consuming pain radiated through his every atom of being. Pulling apart, he was pulling apart, oh, god, it burned!
When it finished, when it felt like the pain was just a distant memory, he looked up (when had his head been bowed?) and stared as he saw that he was in his home.
Demyx released him and he stumbled, legs feeling like jelly, like they weren't made of anything. His head was spinning, he couldn't see straight. Surely he wasn't in his home: he was just on a sidewalk thousands of miles away from his home, surely he can't have gotten to his home in a matter of a second.
He licked his lips as he stared at the hall in front of him. There was his umbrella in the umbrella stand, neatly folded and dry. There was his front hall closet, neatly closed. A fine layer of dust had settled over everything, since Zexion had been on tour for over a month now and he'd had no one come in his home to clean.
"Wh…what?" he stuttered, eyes wide and wild. He'd never been so close to cracking before, but now bubbles of hysteria were climbing up his throat, and he felt like letting them loose. He was honestly scared now. This wasn't a dream, nor an illusion or a joke.
He really had almost died, he really had met a demon, and he really was in a massive amount of trouble. He really was going to die.
Demyx looked at him concerned and then his lips moved. Zexion stared but it was like he was in a daze, he couldn't hear what Demyx was saying, just watch as Demyx neared in concern, spoke more, clearly he was asking him something, but Zexion just couldn't hear. There was a roaring in his head.
Blood, he thought. It's just my blood.
And then it was like everything had gone from slow to normal and Demyx's voice, "Hey, Zexy, are you okay? Zexion? Hey, talk to me, man, you're not looking so good."
Zexion licked his lips, cleared his throat, wished there was saliva in his mouth, wishing it didn't feel like he had a mouthful of ashes clogging his throat. "W-what's going on?" he croaked as he backed up into his front door, feeling the cool wood pressing into his shoulder blades.
Demyx crossed his arms. "I already told you!" he exclaimed. "I'm keeping you alive."
"W-why does the d-devil want to kill me?" Zexion asked as he stumbled his way into the kitchen. He collapsed into a chair at his table, pressing his forehead into the cool tile. His insides were shaking.
"I can't tell you that," Demyx said as he followed Zexion's example and dropped into a chair.
"Why not?" Zexion replied as he turned his head to the side.
"Because… I can't."
Zexion sighed. He wasn't going to get anywhere, he could tell. He shoved away from the table and went to a side cabinet, extracting from its depths a plain teapot. He needed to do something with his hands and making some calming tea was sure to help.
"I wouldn't go near your stove," Demyx said idly, having watched Zexion's every move.
Zexion paused. "I'm getting tired of asking why, but why?" he asked as he turned around to face the blond demon.
"Because your oven has a gas leak; one lit burner and your house goes ka-boom."
Zexion blanched. He hastily set the teapot down on the counter, moving away from his oven.
"Should I even be in the house then? Gas is toxic!"
Demyx contemplated it. "Yeah, you probably shouldn't be here, but I figured it'd be safe for at least a little while."
Zexion sat back down in the kitchen chair. "What's going on?" he muttered. He'd never come across anything like this before and his logical mind was having a hard time grasping it. Then he thought of something. "Wait… every time he's tried to kill me, it's had something to do with blowing me up? Does he have some kind of fascination with fire?" he asked, eyes skittering away from Demyx's.
Demyx shrugged, turning his head and breaking the stare. "I wouldn't call it a fascination or anything. It's just easier to kill someone and make sure they're dead when they're blown into little tiny pieces."
"And if you hadn't come along and saved me, it would have worked, too, wouldn't it?"
"Oh, definitely: there's no such thing as Satan not getting who or what he wants," Demyx said casually.
"Then… then why are you helping me? In the end, won't it be… futile?" he whispered, wishing that he hadn't said what he'd just said. He didn't want to think about his apparent demise.
Demyx turned back to look Zexion in the eyes. "Well, now, I never said that. Satan's always gotten what he wants because no one's ever contested him, well, except for You-Know-Who. He's not getting to you because I'm in the way."
"Wouldn't he kill you, then, to get to me?" Zexion asked. "Why would you go to such lengths for me? What do you get out of it?"
Zexion knew he'd hit on a sore spot as Demyx looked incredibly uncomfortable now. "Yeah, Satan will probably try to get to me," Demyx reluctantly said before snorting derisively. "But he can't do much. I'm Death, so he'd have to do a lot to get rid of me."
"You're… death. But I thought Death was an angel?"
Demyx cursed. "Damn, you weren't supposed to know that. I never was very good at this secret-keeping business. Ugh, yeah, I'm Death. There's a demon and angel Death, so we both work. I, of course, send people to Hell. The other sends them to Heaven."
"A-and… were you sent to take me to Hell?"
"Not… really," he answered. "Technically, you're considered a zero. You've never done anything good or bad, so it'd basically be a free-for-all between me and the Angel of Death to see who gets you. But you'd go to Heaven; You-Know-Who would try his hardest to make sure of that."
"What… what's so special about me that the devil wants me so badly?"
"Who said there was anything special about you?" Demyx retorted, looking especially uncomfortable.
Zexion shrugged. "Why else would he want and try so hard to kill me? And why would you try so hard to keep me alive, especially if it goes against your job?"
"Would you please accept that I just can't tell you?"
"No, I don't want to do that, no matter how nicely you ask. I think I deserve some answers, considering just how close I've come to death today! I didn't ask to be in this mess and I want to know why I am and I want to know now!" Zexion exclaimed, irritation jittering through his every nerve.
"Okay, fine!" Demyx retorted as his temper flared and then cooled. "Look… you're just… you have inside of you a…."
"A… what?" Zexion asked as he noticed that Demyx had paused yet again, eyes dilating as his fingers clenched tightly along the rim of the table. Zexion stopped, contemplating before panicking. "Wait… I know that look. Oh, no, I don't want to go anywhere else, I don't need to-," he tried to say, but was cut off as Demyx suddenly grabbed his wrist, pulled him up, wrapped his arms tightly around Zexion and then Zexion was suddenly thrown into that world of pain, of being split apart everywhere, of feeling like he was disintegrating and then being stitched back together.
Again, it didn't even seem to last a second (and yet a lifetime) before Zexion was slamming feet first into soft ground. He felt disoriented and as he tried to step forward he wobbled and then fell to the ground. It felt even harder to gather his thoughts after moving this time than ever before.
He closed his eyes, feeling a headache thrumming along the base of his skull. He was sure this wasn't good for him, but he figured a slow death was better than an instantaneous one.
He opened his eyes and looked around. He was at the ocean, hence the soft ground, and as he looked around more, he found that Demyx was nowhere to be found.
Zexion stood up shakily, weaving his way down to the water. He looked out to the horizon, wondering where Demyx was. Why would he just leave like that? How could he leave like that? What if… what if a tsunami came in, by special order of Satan, and Demyx wasn't there to move him away?
He felt slightly panicked. But then he tried to reason with himself. Surely there was a reason for Demyx's disappearance. Surely he didn't leave Zexion just to die.
Yes, of course Demyx wouldn't do that. Zexion turned his back to the sea, hoping that he hadn't just hallucinated that Demyx wasn't there. He didn't want to be alone… not anymore. Demyx was the only thing keeping him alive: was the only thing standing between him and the devil.
Zexion stumbled back up the beach, wondering just where he was. His home was nowhere near an ocean. In fact, the nearest one was at least six hours away. Why would Demyx take him here and then leave him alone? Where had Demyx gone?
He collapsed to the soft sand, feeling the granules beneath his butt, and he closed his eyes, listening to the gentle roar of the waves and the rough cawing of the seagulls in the air. It had been years since he'd come to a beach, years since he'd wanted to go near one. He'd forgotten how peaceful it could be.
He lay back on the ground, wincing only slightly as his blue hair immediately filled with grains of sand. He opened his eyes and stared at the overcast sky above him. The area was deserted, which was unusual, considering it was June and should have been flooded with humans on vacation, even on a cloudy day.
Zexion controlled his breathing, counted each soft pant, let his heart calm down finally. And then he fell asleep, exhaustion dragging him under quickly.
Demyx snapped to place, feet touching soft sand and nose smelling brine, and he sighed in happiness. This had always been his favorite place in the world.
He gingerly stepped up to Zexion, who had fallen asleep it seemed. Demyx sat down next to him, gasping softly as the movement caused his wound to constrict, the torn skin scraping together. He hissed as he cautiously put a hand over the wound.
Things had gotten very serious. But Demyx didn't want to think of that right now. So far, Satan hadn't found Zexion here but Demyx knew it was only a matter of time before Satan chipped away at the wards Demyx had carefully placed here year ago and came to take Zexion.
Demyx didn't want that. His eyes softened as he glanced at the sleeping man beside him. He raised his hand, brushing it lightly across the hair cascading down Zexion's face.
"Would you even believe me if I told you the truth?" he whispered, shuddering slightly as the pads of his fingers slipped against Zexion's soft skin. "You're too special, Zexion, for little old me."
Demyx dropped his hand, turning his head to stare out to the water. He shuffled to his feet and made his way down to the water. He cupped a handful of the briny water and then pressed it to his wound.
Ever since his death, ever since he became the Demon of Death, Demyx had had an affinity to water that had probably come from his love for it when he was alive. He could bend the water to his will, like quickening the atoms until they filled the entire area of his wound and stitched it together.
It wasn't the best option and the wound was by no means healed, but under the circumstances, Demyx didn't have another choice. This would have to do. He hissed slightly as he let the water cascade onto the ground. He wasn't used to feeling pain anymore: he'd never gone against Satan before.
But this was more important than anything before and Demyx knew that no matter what, he had to keep Zexion away from him. He made his way back to Zexion and took a seat next to him before lying down and falling asleep himself, even though he didn't technically need to.
Zexion was warm: warmer than he'd felt in a long while, so he snuggled up to whatever was making him warm and sighed. He swam in the currents between sleep and awake and he felt like being dragged under to sleep. Anything if he meant he could keep this comforting warmth.
But then the warmth moved away, and Zexion's senses were bombarded by a shaft of light beaming down and scalding him and his awakening was violent, full of jerky movements as he shoved away at non-existent blankets and wishing that the light would go to hell and leave him alone.
"Hey, Zexion," said a voice near him as he sprung up from his position on the ground.
Zexion's eyes popped open. "Demyx!" he exclaimed as he saw the demon down at the water, cupping water and placing it on… was that a hole in his body! "Demyx! What happened to you!"
He scrambled to his feet, rushing to sit by Demyx and watched as Demyx ruefully smiled and kept his hand over his wound.
"Yeah, I had a run-in with some minions of Satan's last night. They gave me a run for my money. I guess I've gotten rusty in the last ten years since I got Death's job," Demyx answered, trying to reassure Zexion. "But, look, it's okay," he said as he took his hand away, showing a stitched together wound, although it looked angry and ready to tear at anything.
"That doesn't look okay," Zexion said.
Demyx shrugged. "Yeah, well, that's because this is me trying to re-stitch the skin. I'd already done this last night, but I didn't do a good enough job last night and it tore at some point while I was sleeping."
Zexion reached a hand out to touch, hesitating when he saw Demyx tense slightly, but that didn't stop him in the end. "Where'd you go last night?" he asked as he gently ran his fingers down the long tear. It would scar, if Demyx were still alive and capable of scarring. It would eventually heal with no repercussions. The wound wasn't even bleeding.
"Well, I noticed while I was shifting you that Satan was tracking me through my shifts, so I basically pushed you out of the shift and deposited you at this beach before continuing the shift and basically leading him away from you. Of course, I wasn't expecting the minions to follow me right after. They ambushed me."
"Shifting… is that what that's called?" Zexion asked as he withdrew his fingers finally. Demyx visibly relaxed.
"Yeah: it's called that because I'm basically ripping you apart into ever atom and molecule you're made up of, transferring you elsewhere, and then re-building you. It doesn't take very long, but it's incredibly painful, basically because I'm shredding your nerves," Demyx said casually as he picked up more water and then drank it.
Zexion didn't know what to say first: that drinking salt water was disgusting or that he never wanted to shift ever again. In the end, though, maybe the salt water didn't matter to Demyx. "Um… does shifting… strain the body?" he asked, still distracted as he watched Demyx drink another handful of water.
"Oh, yeah, every time I do it, I don't always get every atom right back where it needs to go. It's not too bad in the long run, but it can be disorienting to begin with. You'll eventually get used to it."
Zexion looked out to the water. "Is this how my whole life is going to be like now? I mean, what, am I just going to shift several times a day every day until I die? How is that any better than just letting Satan kill me now?" Zexion paused. "You never got a chance to finish explaining last night. What's going on?"
"I guess you have a right to know, and Satan won't be able to break the wards here for a while. He's exceptionally weak to water and that's the power behind the wards," Demyx said after thinking about it for a while.
"In the beginning of the world, there were two entities who decided to create this world. Those two entities are what we call God and Satan; though what we think of God and Satan is hardly the truth now. Think of every religion on earth, every living one and every dead one and combined, they're nowhere near the truth of what exactly these two are, because these two are everything and nothing."
Zexion nodded as he concentrated. A history lesson: how wonderful. But what did that have to do with him?
"Anyway, these two entities decided to create this world and create a new race to populate it. Hence the dinosaurs that we know of. There were many more species of dinosaurs than we know about, but they've been completely disintegrated in the millennia since their time on Earth. There are no fossils of those dinosaurs. These two entities ruled over the world and watched it closely and they eventually decided that the dinosaurs were a failure. They weren't an interesting enough race to keep their attention, so they decided to get rid of them and then re-work on their world and introduce a new race to it.
"This race eventually became humans as we know them today. But humans were far more complex than the dinosaurs had ever been and as the years passed, the two entities saw that the humans needed direction, needed help. Without it, they were useless and did nothing. When they died, they disintegrated. They were like empty puppets. So the entities decided to grasp a firmer hold on the world."
Here Demyx paused, placing more water on his wound and then drinking more when he was finished. While Zexion was certainly interested in Demyx's story, and was impatiently waiting for more, he still wondered what any of that had to do with him.
"The entities had a part of their beings sewn into the world so they could be attached to it and then they picked thirteen human beings and gave them the chance to become the leaders of the world. One by one, they all accepted. Their souls were sucked from their body and they became like entities themselves. They were merely light in human form and they led the humans to a life where they could actually think and do on their own.
"But though harmony ran for many years, eventually things started to take a turn for the worse. With the power of natural thinking came the power of evil. It's a natural progression but one that the entities had never thought of. With the over run of evil that the thirteen leaders could not control by themselves, the two entities decided to create two kingdoms: one above Earth, and one below. These kingdoms didn't exist in the material plane, but were only seen by those who died. The life of a human was dramatically cut shorter and when people then died, their souls would either be given entrance to what would eventually be called Heaven or Hell."
"So… Satan and God… work together?" Zexion asked, shock rooting him to the spot. "Wasn't Satan evil: wasn't that the whole point of this entire thing?"
"I'm getting to that," Demyx said playfully. "Yes, God and Satan were, to begin with, comrades, friends even, as much as could be considering how powerful entities they were."
"Then… what happened? What happened to the thirteen leaders?" Zexion asked.
"I'll get to that, too," he answered. "Anyway, harmony rained again. Though evil still lived within the hearts of some humans, with the life of humans cut so short, the evil never had much chance to do much and it was eventually considered a… necessary balance, I suppose you could say. The two entities were much pleased with how their world was progressing. The souls of the dead lived in their respective kingdoms and kept the entities company, since the two entities could no longer keep each other company, since they lived within these kingdoms and could not step away from them.
"But with the years passing and the separation of the two entities, they eventually changed themselves. With part of themselves sewn into the very fabric of the world, and having to stay within the kingdoms they watched over, the souls of the humans living amongst them began to sway them. Eventually, the entity we now know as Satan began to listen to them. The words were like poison to him, telling him that he deserved better than to live beneath Earth and he started to believe them. Why did he have to live down there and the other entity lived so far above, with the good of the people. Why had Satan been stuck down there, stuck with the filth of the world?"
"And the poison started to change him, changed who he was and what he thought. And it wasn't as though he could leave and gain perspective again."
"So Satan became as evil as those he looked over," Zexion whispered.
"Pretty much, yeah. God was distraught at what had happened to his friend, but he eventually accepted it, deeming it as a necessary evil for the balance between the kingdoms and the plane between them."
"But… what does that have to do with me?" he asked.
Demyx smiled. "Gee, impatient much? To get back to the story, many more years passed after Satan let himself be poisoned, and then the thirteen souls of the leaders decided unanimously that it was time to step down from their positions and let the humans reign and lead on their own, with no guidance. It was to be another experiment, they thought. God and Satan agreed to let the weary souls rest within the birth of their respective kingdom. But that is where things became troublesome."
"Troublesome? How so?" Zexion asked, turning to look back at Demyx, who was looking out over the water.
"It was troublesome in that the souls had been stripped from their human bodies before good and evil existed. There was no way to decide which kingdom they belonged to. They were considered zeros and they came up with a name for themselves: Nobodies, they jokingly said. God and Satan came to blows about where the souls would reside. It was obvious that each side wanted them for their kingdom. God said that they were good, that they deserved to live within Heaven for all of their deeds for humankind. Satan said that they would be better suited to Hell, since they let evil come into the world to begin with."
"Couldn't he also be blamed with letting evil into the world?" Zexion mused.
"Technically, yeah, but Satan is too far gone for technicalities and logic. Anyway, a war began between the souls of Hell and the souls of Heaven to decide where these souls would go. Eventually, the thirteen mini-entities grew weary of the fighting and decided to come up with their own solution. They proposed that their souls be re-born as humans at some point in time. Then, once they died, they would not be zeros but would be taken to their respective side. God and Satan could find no fault with this and they decided to let them go ahead with their plan."
Zexion shrugged. "Again, what does any of this have to do with me?"
"Gosh, you're impatient, aren't you? I'm getting to that."
"Well then get to it!"
"Well, maybe I would if you'd stop interrupting me!"
"Well, maybe if you got on with it, I wouldn't interrupt!"
"Oh, gosh, would you just hush!"
Zexion huffed but then shut his lips.
"Okay, now where was I? Right, the thirteen souls were to be re-born. Throughout history, these souls were re-born. When they died, they were sent to their respective kingdoms as fitting the original agreement. It came to pass that there were only two left who had yet to be re-born. God had six within his kingdom and Satan had five. To tip the balance in his favor, Satan wanted the last two and so he came up with a plan. When he had the majority of the original thirteen souls, he'd wage war against God once again. With the powerful souls in his hands, he'd win and cause instant chaos throughout the world, eventually ripping apart the world at the seams. He'd then be able to escape from his wretched existence."
"So… what happened to the last two souls?" Zexion whispered.
"Well, the first of the last to be born made some mistakes in his life, shot someone else to stay alive and then died in a drive-by shooting. Murder means instant shot to Hell. Satan now had six, the same number as God. That meant that the last soul, which had been re-born just a few years before the other died, would be the deciding factor between whether the world lived or was torn apart by Satan. You can imagine how important this soul is."
"So… the soul is still alive? Wait…," Zexion paused, thinking it through. "You don't mean… I'm the soul, do you?"
Demyx smiled softly. "Yeah, that's exactly what I mean. You are the one soul left."
A/N: Oh, yeah, I totally left it there. Hopefully I'll be able to have the second part up as soon as tomorrow. If not, please know that I will be working on it as quickly as possible to get it to you. I'm also working on other stories of mine that should hopefully be done soon and that I'll be able to update them all as soon as possible. Thanks for bearing with me and all of the patience that many of you have given to me as I slowly write my updates. Please review if you can and please, above all else, enjoy my contribution to Dexion Day.
Thanks,
LifesLover