(( A/N: Just a short drabble on the basement trio. LexZex is implied. This is purely fan made and I own nothing.~ Enjoy! Feedback is always appreciated. ))
Zexion expected the news to hurt much more than it actually did. He had anticipated a crippling pain to wash over him—after all, Even had been like Ienzo's adoptive father, and though that bond did not very well carry over after they lost their hearts, the Basement Trio had still been nearly inseparable. Even so, upon receiving the news that Vexen was dead, he felt nothing. It was no huge surprise being that he lacked a heart, but he felt only a vague sorrow, though it was distant. It was not true sadness, just the memory of it.
He continued about his day, making tea, sitting in the library, reading—all his motions were pantomime. Hours passed before the scent of darkness filled the room; the Illusionist looked up, his cerulean eyes settling upon the much larger man, Lexaeus.
Without a word, Lexaeus crossed the room and wrapped his arms around the much smaller male, holding him, though his face remained somber. Still, Zexion felt nothing, though he relaxed into the embrace and leaned into him, letting some of the stress melt away.
There would never be anything more than this between them; neither of them had hearts and they both knew it was foolish to pretend otherwise. What good would it do? Even so, their actions spoke louder than words ever could—there had always been a connection between them; a deep understanding of one another, even since Ienzo became an apprentice under Ansem. The two had bonded through their silence—a bond that remained strong even once they became Nobodies and joined Organization XIII.
Fiercely loyal, Lexaeus remained at Zexion's side, protecting him.
Then all too soon, it happened again. Saix was in front of him, telling the Schemer that Lexaeus was gone; just like Vexen. He did not use the word "dead", though.
'Lexaeus is gone.'
The words were cold, and as soon as they were out, the Second in Command was leaving.
Zexion was alone, and he'd never once thanked Lexaeus for what he had done. He was angry now- angry at the Silent Hero for leaving, angry at himself for not being there. . . but still, he felt nothing. There was no pain. Just the ghost of emotion that washed over him. He didn't even feel angry, in truth, there was just a notion that told him he should be. Told him that if he had a heart, he would be. That he would be angry and regret.
Even so; he did not have a heart, he wasn't angry, and he couldn't bring himself to regret. There were more important matters at hand; Zexion is alone now, and has to defend himself.
Even kneels down, looking at the small child, about seven, shorter than most with messy slate-grey hair and downcast blue eyes. His skin was fair and his face was somber; then again, the child's parents had just died, so he expected no less.
"Keep your chin up, child," Even spoke gruffly, not understanding why the child—Ienzo, refused to speak.
Aeleus decided to join them and placed a large gloved hand on the Academic's shoulder, giving him a look, which seemed to be enough to cause the blonde to back off without another word. The broad-shouldered apprentice leaned down and offered his hand; Ienzo took it, and there . . . the friendship began.