A/N: Short oneshot for DemLar day.

A silent plea for help does not go unheeded...

For Hope Eternal! Another one for you! :D

A soft, sniffling sound wafted through the evening air and reached the musician's ears as he sat on the outdoor stage, cleaning off his guitar. There had been a game that night, and he was chosen to play.

Immediately, he stopped wiping off the instrument and set down the rag, his ears pricking up to hear from which direction the sound had come from.

There was another sniffle, this time accompanied by a slight cough.

Or was it a hiccup?

The dirty-blond mullet-hawked musician left his guitar on the stage (he was thankful that no-one had taken it when he later returned) and wandered off behind the bleachers, where the tall trees were.

"Hello?" he asked tentatively. "Is anyone here?"

The sniffling stopped. It was as if the person did not wish to be found, and had thought they were alone.

"Hello?" he asked again. There was another pause, when whoever had been crying whispered a hurt plea.

"Go away." Even her voice was tearstained. Demyx looked up into the tree branches and craned his neck.

"Hey. Are you up there? It's okay, I won't hurt you."

"Go away." This time, the voice seemed beneath the bleachers, instead of above them. A voice that was strangely familiar...

"Larxene?" The young man glanced underneath the steel-and-plastic fold-up seats.

Sure enough, the blonde college student with slicked back hair and two distinct strands not unlike antennae, lay crumpled up underneath the seats like an old rag doll. She had curled herself up into a tight ball, with her arms around her legs and her eyes in her knees. As he approached her, she attempted to curl up even tighter.

"No... Go. Away." It was definitely Larxene. The musician immediately dropped down and moved closer to her, and wrapped gentle arms around her slightly trembling frame.

"Shhh..." he said gently, rubbing her back lightly as he did so. "Shhh, it'll be okay. I'm here, and I'll help you make it better."

Whether it was the companionship, the soothing hushes, or the friendly and caring hand on her back, or maybe a combination of all three, the musician did not know, but by and by she slowed her breathing and calmed down, her tremblings reducing into tiny shudders every now and then.

"Shhh..." he whispered. "Shhh..."

They sat like that for quite some time, when eventually all of Larxene's tears stopped. The musician continued rubbing her back, but she did not move her head as she addressed him.

"Demyx." Her voice was soft, broken. Demyx shifted slightly and peered at her face.

"Yes?" A pale, clammy hand grasped his, the left one on her left shoulder, and held it tightly, but it wasn't tight enough to hurt.

"I..." The words seemed caught in her throat; she couldn't speak them. Demyx's concerned eyes never strayed from what sliver of her face he could see.

"Are you... hurt?" Larxene made a motion halfway between a shake and a nod.

Gently, oh so gently as the morning breeze to a dove's feather, he tilted her chin with two fingers and slowly lifted her face so that he could see it clearly.

He bit back a gasp, but his light green eyes widened.

Larxene, the one girl so tough no boy dared to tease her about her hair, the one girl who ran solely with "the boys" and never did anything girly, the one girl who was always so strong, so able, had taken a beating to her face, and the entire left side, from her eyes to her lips, was black, blue, and red.

Her closed eye could have belonged to a panda. Her good eye saw Demyx's expression of shock, and she immediately turned away.

"Don't look at me." She attempted to hide her face in her arms, but Demyx stopped her, and tilted her chin back.

"Who did this to you?" He was stunned, hurt, angered that someone would dare hit a girl, and on her face no less. Larxene shook her head furiously and jerked away.

She would not be telling.

Demyx sighed sadly and wrapped his arms around her once again, holding her gently but firmly, and slowly rocked back and forth, cradling her in his arms. He hummed softly, a low lullaby he had heard once before, as he comforted the abused girl.

"I'll be your friend, Larxene," he said, soft as a willow's breath, as the gentle hymn ended; he began softly stroking her dirtied, grimy hair, infused with mud from the fall she had inevitably taken when she was hit, not once caring that his calloused hands were accumulating the dirt, blood, and sweat on them as well. "I'll be your friend, even when everyone else is gone. Especially when everyone has gone. I'll always be here for you."

Larxene buried her face in his chest and cried.

Watery drops of hurt and pain eventually stopped flowing out of Larxene's usually sharp eyes for the second time that night. Thoughts raced through her throbbing head as she slowly stifled her sobs.

I'm stronger than this... Why am I crying to a boy? What's more, a geeky, guitar-playing boy?

But Demyx wasn't always geeky... Almost everyday, he would give her a friendly smile, and whenever she had problems with Calculus, he always asked if she wanted his help. She would always turn him down, though.

No. I don't need help from a boy. I'll run with the boys, I'll be part of the boys, but I don't need help from a boy.

But wasn't the person comforting her, making her feel better, even though it was past midnight, a boy? Wasn't the only one promising to be her friend, even when everyone else was gone, a boy?

Demyx hugged her tightly, and continued his soothing hushes and motions, trying to get her to calm down, but stopped when Larxene looked up at him, with both her good and her blackened eyes.

"Why are you so nice to me? I barely know you." It was a confused question. Why was he so nice? Did he want something in return? Was it a trick?

Demyx gave her a sweet smile, one full of friendliness, sympathy, and care, and looked at her straight in the eyes, before lightly holding her hand.

"Larxene..." he began.

Oh please, don't tell me you LIKE me. I have enough confessions to deal with already.

But Demyx continued talking in his soft, even tone, and Larxene quieted down the demons in her head long enough to listen.

"I don't really know you, or who your friends are, or how lonely you are..." he paused, "but I've noticed that you're always fighting, be it with someone else or yourself. And... I don't know how your home life is, but I just want you to know...: you don't always have to be so strong."

He gently squeezed her hand as he spoke his thoughts, and for the third time that night, Larxene Foudre broke down and cried, in the arms of a musician. In the arms of a boy.

In the arms of a friend.