Zexion could remember a time when he was young and felt as though he was meant to be bigger than he was. Bigger than his body- like he could have expanded himself to blanket the world. Everything he saw or touched... Everything he experienced added to him in some strange form of osmosis, as though he started off less but with the potential to grow beyond. Over time, however, Zexion recognized this as the futile idealizations of a child and eventually began to accept his lot in life. He could remember how the years dragged on with his sense of self dwindling day by day- meaningless relationships, faked interests, pseudo personalities that differed on who he currently talked to. The drunken, slurred nights of too little food and too many mixed drinks, how he'd sleep on benches in unfamiliar parks.
He couldn't quite figure out if that rush which filled his chest as a child was his heart. All he knew was that it didn't exist anymore- no matter what Demyx argued. Everything changed at some point and he couldn't see it changing back. The sky had ceased to exhilarate him ages ago, everything he remembered feeling at the sight of pain was muted, the scent of the trees no longer held sway. Was it his heart he had lost...or his soul? Zexion could not tell which it was that had ever made him- Him. He supposed, that was why he became a Nobody. Not because he died, lost his heart, or anything else other than He simply ceased to exist.
He considered, however, that every being was said to have a purpose- and sure enough he had a pulse last he checked. Maybe they weren't meant to have hearts because they didn't care for them when they did. Perhaps they were taken away like candy from a spoilt child...were hearts- souls, a privilege? If so, it stood to reason that they could be earned back... Maybe, they all just had to find themselves again.
"Number Nine, I believe it is time for a trip..."