Title: Only Light You See
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts
Pairing: Zexion/Demyx (Zemyx)
Prompt: Wild Card (Holding Hands)
Medium: fic
Rating: Pg-15
Warnings: This is part of a story that is in the works, and is a scene that will not show up inside the fic itself. Other than that, no warnings.
Summary: Demyx has odd sleeping habits that Zexion has to get used to….

A band of golden-yellow light appeared in a sliver across the floor as Zexion opened the door to his room, slipping inside with soft steps. Briefly, he paused, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness within the room, and seeing a form tangled in the blankets on the bed. With a click, he pushed the door closed, cobalt eyes trained on the bundle of sheets.

Zexion padded forward, details making themselves apparent as his eyes continued to adjust to the almost nonexistent lighting. A foot, sticking out from the sheets, that was hanging over the edge of the mattress; a hand that was clenched in the pillowcase, half-tucked under a chin; blankets piled high over a body; a face, mostly obscured and still pained, even in slumber. Zexion's knees bumped lightly against the edge of the mattress, and Zexion stilled in surprise. He hadn't noticed that he was getting quite that close to the bed. Casting his eyes over the person in his bed, Zexion felt his eyebrows furrow with concern.

Too thin, was his first thought.

His cheeks were gaunt from lack of nutrition, his knuckles stark through the skin of his hands. Honestly, if Demyx had not told him that he was a nurse, if they had not met inside the hospital itself, Zexion would not have believed the man capable of taking care of himself at all. Even without being able to see him through the blankets, Zexion knew that the line of Demyx's hips was too sharp, that his ribs were visible when he breathed, that Zexion could count the number of vertebrae in his spine with ease.

With a formless murmur, Demyx's grip on the pillowcase loosened, leaving behind wrinkles in the fabric as the blonde turned sightlessly, instinctively, towards Zexion. The movement shook Zexion out of his contemplative reverie, and he stepped back.

Demyx's movements stilled, as though he were some sort of marionette – animated only when Zexion was near.

A feeling like ice poured down Zexion's spine as he silently admitted how accurate that was.

He shuddered away the memory of Demyx lying in that bed, lifeless, breathing shallow, too pale, lips moving in a constant unconscious litany of Zexion, and mine, and need/want/please that only grew louder the closer Zexion was. Circling around to the other side of the bed, Zexion knelt on the mattress. He managed to wrestle some blankets out of the cocoon that surrounded Demyx and curled up with them, facing the opposite direction from the blonde nurse. Sighing, he relaxed into his pillow, feeling the weariness of the day catching up with him.

And then he felt the mattress shift.

Warmth spread across his back as Demyx cuddled up to him, and Zexion couldn't stop himself from stiffening. An arm was slung casually – invasively, he hissed to himself- around his waist, and another wormed its way under his head and pillow. Zexion let out an irritated sigh, and was about to move when he felt Demyx's fingers slide into his palm.

A comfortable tingling ran up his arm, and he shuddered, pulling away from the blond's body. Tugging his hand free of Demyx's, Zexion scowled down at the sleeping man before standing, shaking out his arm (which had, oddly enough, stopped tingling the second he had let go of Demyx) and walking around to the other side of the bed.

Lying down again, he turned to face Demyx, watching the steady rhythm of his breathing in the darkness until his eyelids slid down, and he relaxed into the drifting of pre-sleep. The smell of laundry detergent filled his nose as he turned his face into the pillow. He slipped closer to sleep, listening to the quiet rasp of Demyx's breaths.

The creak of the mattress signaled another movement.

Demyx turned over, and his hands unerringly shot out to twine themselves around Zexion's hands, fingers brushing lightly across skin.

The tingling returned, shivering across the bridge of their hands. There was a brief, disorienting moment of feeling something that was distinctly not-his-own, and Zexion jerked back, quickly rolling over. What was that? he wondered, blinking into the darkness. He tried to steady his breath and his pulse, and slowly, so slowly, they quieted.

There was silence from behind him, and then the quiet shift of fabric. Breath whispered across the back of Zexion's neck, and he felt more than heard Demyx grumble when the sheets wrapped around him hindered his movement. The blankets were tossed over him, settling over Zexion with a warm weight. Demyx scooted forward until he was curled tightly against Zexion. One arm over Zexion's waist, the other beneath his head, both finding and holding his hands loosely.

Somehow, Zexion thought, lips pressed into a thin line, I think we've done this before.

A thread of sleepy amusement slid through his hands at the thought, and Zexion twitched, almost pulling away before curiosity got the best of him. The skin of Demyx's palms, where they were cupped against the backs of Zexion's hands, felt like there was something vibrating under the surface. It reminded Zexion -illogically- of a car, the motor under the hood making reverberations throughout the metal surface.

Tired/hungry/warm.

Zexion blinked. What in the world…?

Another set of feelings wove into him, setting off a silent chorus of need/comfort/asleep. A sensation like static flowed from his fingertips to his skull, and Zexion shifted uncomfortably. Those weren't his emotions (and he didn't really know how he knew that, just that he did). Resonating in him quietly, the foreign feelings drifted until they faded, another stream soon replacing them, flowing up his arm and through his body. Asleep, Zexion near, does like, warm, the soundless mantra came, threading through his and Demyx's joined hands.

Thoughts, he realized, eyes widening. I'm hearing Demyx's thoughts.

With a strange sense of wonder, Zexion relaxed his hands, spreading his fingers. Demyx took the opening, sliding his fingers between Zexion's and holding on tightly. All the while, a warm rush of disjointed thoughts stumbled into his mind, dropping in as gently as butterfly wings.

Warm, tired, sleep, Zexion, need him, smooth, not like the others, hurt him, why did I?

And a huge rush of guilt swept into Zexion, making him gasp softly. Behind him, Demyx whimpered in his sleep, cold nose pressing against the bare skin of Zexion's neck. Bracing himself against the sudden, crippling emotion, Zexion tightened his grip on Demyx's hand. He wasn't prepared for this, and he had no idea that Demyx was still, still hung up over that. Compassion rose in him.

"It's okay," he wanted to say. "None of it was your fault."

He couldn't make his mouth move, but somehow (not somehow, he realized a second later, Demyx was an empath, after all) his silent reassurance was enough, and the wave of grief receded, tendrils of curiosity poking through, trailing up his arm to tap inquisitively at Zexion's mind.

Who? A jumble of impressions pressed in on him, leaving a tangled mess of confused/worried/need/hope behind.

Feeling clumsy and slightly foolish for even considering doing this, Zexion visualized pushing the thought of his name through his hands and into Demyx's. After a moment, he also tried to make the thought of "Don't worry, I have you, I'm here" travel between them. He waited almost breathlessly for confirmation of his attempt.

Zexion!

And the knowledge of his name came crashing through them exuberantly. Zexion, attempting to sort out the information he was being given, saw himself sitting in the hallways of a hospital, felt something like water smooth over rough nerves he didn't have, saw a blindingly confusing image of a lotus unfurling in his mind and a thousand other things that flashed through like lightening. Has me, trust him, trust, love, want, need, like water to me.

The rush of images slowly faded, leaving Zexion panting for breath. If this was how it always was for Demyx, it was little wonder that he had as many problems as he did. Warmth pulsated through their joined hands, and Zexion suddenly thought that Demyx was thanking him, unconscious though he may be.

"What for?" he asked, guiltily grateful that Demyx wasn't awake for this.

There was a pulling sensation through their hands. Zexion hesitated, not sure what would happen.

Trust, would never hurt you, not again, it's okay, Demyx's mind hurried to reassure him. Show you. Show.

Cautiously, warily, Zexion allowed himself to be led towards… somewhere. He wasn't quite sure where they were going. What little light there was fell away, and Zexion's heartbeat filled his ears, slow and steady in its rhythm. He spiraled down, following the tug of Demyx's sleeping mind. The non-light here (wherever here was) was strangely comforting, leaving no teasing light-spots on his eyes. Zexion flexed his fingers-

-and then realized he couldn't feel his fingers anymore.

Panic bubbled in him, and he began to pull away, turning back himself and his body, but another rush of reassurance stopped him.

Sleeping, just sleep, don't worry, fine, fine okay, promise.

And then it was just too late to turn back around.

Because in front of him…

In front of him was Demyx's mind.

It looked like a stained-glass window, though as Zexion drew closer, he noticed that there was something behind it. He reached out a curious hand and-

-a million images flurried over him, and Zexion shook his head (or whatever the mental equivalent was) to clear it. A tapestry, torn in places, but slowly mending. A forest, in the stages of re-growing. Clouds scattering across a blue sky. Wounds, gaping horrific wounds, healing. They faded, leaving Zexion to stare once more at the glass-pane of color that separated him from being completely inside Demyx's mind.

"I don't understand," Zexion murmured helplessly, speaking to the piece of Demyx that had led him here.

The presence flooded him with a warm feeling, thanking him again.

"But why? Why are you thanking me? What did I do?"

Demyx's mind laughed, brushing up against him like a fond cat. Zexion (and there was the confusing barrage of images, complete with the lotus again), heal, mine, water to me, silk on skin, healer.

Zexion let out an exasperated sigh, though he really felt almost small in comparison to what Demyx's mind could do. "I don't understand." And he pushed his confusion out at Demyx.

Another welter of images flew to him in response, fixating this time on various wounds. Zexion watched them being inflicted and then healing, saw a mirror being broken in reverse, the pieces fitting perfectly together again, looked at so many cycles of breaking, of healing, and over them all was the realization that the things being broken were Demyx in some way, and that the cause for all the healing…

…was him.

"I…did that?"

There was confusion from Demyx, and the images stopped. Doesn't trust? Not lying, not, yes, Zexion, fixed it all, and this time, Zexion felt a warmth and affection underneath the thoughts that hadn't been there before. Or at least, he hadn't noticed it before.

"How?" Zexion once more projected confusion.

Considering emotions touched the bundle of confusion and examined it carefully before Demyx's mind absorbed it, and began tugging Zexion back to himself without answering.

"But wait, I don't-" Zexion radiated irritation, but it lessened when Demyx surrounded him in amused warmth, the equivalent of a laughing hug. There was something, some overtone or undertone to the emotions that Demyx constantly pushed at him…. As he tried to decipher it, he was carefully shepherded back into his own self again. He tried to fight, tried to cling to Demyx's mind (it seemed such a terrible thing, to be alone in his own mind again, after being so close to someone else's), but to no avail.

He felt weighed down, felt the brush of air on his cheeks, and knew he was back in his body. Slowly, Zexion opened his eyes, the darkness of the room less now that he had been in total darkness. The warm rumblings of Demyx's thoughts fizzed like carbonation against Zexion's skin, and this time, Zexion welcomed the creeping fingers of sleepy affection.

"But I don't understand…" Zexion protested sleepily, even as his limbs relaxed and his heartbeat slowed. Demyx's emotions slid in a contented nuzzle against his hands (the blue-petal lotus began to sink into murky waters in his mind), becoming fainter and fuzzier the closer he was to sleep.

You will.

The tender thought drifted between them, and a warm ache blossomed in Zexion's chest. Zexion fell asleep, cradled in the conviction Demyx had in him.

When he woke the next morning, Demyx's hands were still holding his.

This is... Well, you can consider it a sort of preview for the fic I have in the works called The Twilight Between (and its companion fic Devil in Your Hands). This happens later in the story technically, but you never see it in either of the fics.

Please review, if you'd like. I'd like to see what you all think of it!