So I've started this really bad habit of going to bed at one in the morning. Because I have started doing this on such a regular basis, I now physically can't get to sleep until one. This story is what I do when I'm sitting at the computer waiting for myself to become tired enough to roll into bed. Hopefully it comes off as decent and not just sleep-deprived madness!

Enjoy!

When Demyx was young, he wrote a letter to a person he didn't know. Demyx never really remembered what was on that first letter, seeing as he never saw it again once it was sent. But he was pretty sure it went something like this:

Dear Mystery Person,

If you've found this letter then that means you're special. I really wanted to find a friend, since I don't have any right now. I'm moving to a new town, and it's so far away that my family and I are getting on a Gummi Ship to get there. When you find this I hope you send me a letter back, then at least I'll have one friend. I promise that I'm really nice. Please write back.

Your new friend,

Demyx

Not the most eloquent of introductions, but at the time he had thought it was very clever. Demyx then put his new address at the bottom and put the letter into a bottle. When he and his family got into the Gummi Ship, he handed the bottle to a flight attendant and asked her if she could put it into space.

"What is that sweetie?" She asked, eyeing the bottle suspiciously.

"It's a letter to my new friend." He answered, still holding the bottle out to her.

"Then wouldn't it be a good idea to hold onto it until we get there, and give it to him yourself?" She said.

"But I don't know who he is yet." He told her innocently.

Luckily the Captain overheard and, understanding the child's request, agreed to send the bottle out while they were in flight. Demyx was overjoyed as he watched his letter float away into space, confident that by the time they had unpacked he would have a letter from his new friend waiting for him. He watched as it drifted through the darkness, moving slowly until it was just a speck, no bigger than the stars that dotted the blackness of space. When it was gone from sight he imagined its flight, swirling around planets and asteroids until it found a world and landed safely on its soil. He imagined his new friend, picking it up and reading the letter, running home to write up a reply.

When he and his family reached their new world the first thing he did was check the little red mailbox at the end of the driveway. When he found it empty, his mother assured him it was simply because it was too soon. He had just thrown the letter into space; his new friend may not even have received it yet! So Demyx helped unpack, and then when all the furniture was in place he checked the mailbox again. It was empty. So he helped his mother set up the kitchen, and after all her pots and pans were where she wanted, he ran back out to the mailbox. It was still empty. Finally his father told him that he would have to wait for the postman to drop it off tomorrow. So, obediently, Demyx went to bed.

The next day, as the family unpacked odds and ends from numerous boxes, Demyx waited patiently for the postman to come. However, when the man walked by and dropped off only coupon offers, Demyx was mortified. Why hadn't his new friend written back yet? Here was Demyx, all alone on this new world, and his new friend was so selfish he wouldn't even write him a letter! Demyx felt very alone, and so he sat down on the curb, underneath that red mailbox, hands clutching coupons for shampoo and cereal, and he cried. He cried for himself, he cried for his new friend that wouldn't send him a letter, and he cried because he was scared, scared of being all alone on a whole big planet where everything was different.

He didn't even notice when another young boy, around Demyx's age, hair as red as the mailbox, walked up to him. He was a lanky child, looking almost underfed, but this wasn't the case. He was just the type who never stopped moving and running and growing. His hair stood up at all angles, like he had just been rolling on the ground and sticks had been wound into his hair, holding it up in impossible ways. The boy stood there a few moments, silent, working away on a blue popsicle, just watching Demyx cry. He then yanked the melting treat from his mouth with a pop, startling Demyx from his misery. Demyx looked up, eyes wide and red from the crying, and the two boys surveyed each other for a moment.

"Whatcha cryin about?" The redhead asked, almost accusingly, following his statement with a lick of his popsicle.

"My new friend doesn't like me." Demyx told him, a hiccup in his voice, as he wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Why not?"

"I don't know!" Demyx said, as he felt as the tears started to brim over again. He began to sniffle as he tried to hold back from crying, not wanting to start sobbing in front of this unknown boy. The redhead just stared at him a few more moments, then said, in complete seriousness,

"Your new friend sucks."

Demyx gasped slightly, not only because his unknown friend had been made fun of, but because Demyx's mother didn't like that kind of language. However, the redhead just stood there, licking away at the popsicle, unaware of the seriousness of what he had just uttered.

"Don't say that about him!" Demyx yelled at the boy, and his eyes fell to the pavement, defeated, "He's the only friend I have…" He muttered sullenly, and the redhead snorted.

"Well guess what, now I'm your friend too. And I don't suck."

"You shouldn't say bad words like that!"

"So what if I do? Whatcha gonna do about it?"

Demyx huffed. This boy was stubborn and rude, but he supposed it was the best he could do under the circumstances. Besides, he had just said they were friends, right? So he can't be all bad.

"My name's Demyx, I just moved here."

"I'm Axel. I live over there." The boy, Axel, pointed to the house directly across the street. It looked a lot like Demyx's new house. Two stories, white porch on the front, garage on the side, except that Axel's house was brick instead of stone. But Demyx wasn't as concerned with this as he was with the blue concoction in his new friend's hand.

"Where'd ya get the popsicle?"

"My mom gave it to me. We have some more in the freezer. Want one?"

"It's a weird color."

"Its sea-salt, which is the best flavor in the world." Axel informed him loudly.

"It sounds stupid." He replied.

"You're stupid!" And with that Axel grabbed his hand and pulled him into the house across the street. The boy's mother, Demyx was happy to learn, did not use bad words like Axel did, and apparently Axel was smart enough not to use those words around his mom. She was overjoyed to meet Demyx, and was quick to hand him a blue popsicle. He found the taste to not be quite as horrible as he expected, it was actually quite good. However, he didn't think it lived up to Axel's claim of 'world's best flavor' and promptly told him so. The boys then argued over which flavor was the best, and then went outside to Axel's front lawn and argued in the form of an epic space battle complete with ray guns and invincible armor that ended with both of them being victorious over an invading alien force, original argument forgotten.

At some point Demyx's parents had seen the heroic battle across the street and had wandered over and introduced themselves to Axel's mother. Just as the two boys had discovered their mutual love of the Sunday morning staple cartoon Keyblade Warriors of Destiny and were making their way to Axel's room to peruse his impressive action figure collection, Demyx's parent's called that it was time to go. With promises of a tomorrow filled with wonder, the two new friends parted. Demyx went to sleep that night, secure in the thought that he was no longer a stranger on a new world.

And this is how his letter, sent out among the stars, was promptly forgotten.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

When Zexion was growing up, he received a letter from a boy he didn't know. He was walking to the library with his mother, hand in hand. The run down shops and boarded up businesses that lined the streets meant little to him, except that their foreboding presence had him clinging tightly to his mother's callused hand with creeping panic. Even though he was too old to be doing something so childish, he still appeared young enough to get away with it, and no one would blame him if he said that walking through town scared him. He looked up at his mother, and her sweet smile and confident air was reassuring.

They made it to their destination, the front lawn of the library filled with brown dead grass, the tree nearby oddly vacant of any leaves, even though it was the middle of the summer. Walking up the cracked steps of the old building, Zexion marveled again at how such a wonderful place full of knowledge and wisdom could exist in such a run down and barren world as theirs. Walking through the front door, Zexion felt at home, the rich smell of parchment and books filling the space around him. He slipped out of his mother's hand and headed to the stacks. Though they seemed bare in places, downright empty in others, Zexion knew just where to look to find what he wanted. The fiction section: the stories about heroes and mythical quests and barren worlds like his that could be saved by a simple adventure to see a kind wizard. Those were the books he wanted, those were to books he inhaled like the air of the library itself. They were in the back, so that's where he headed.

But he was stopped short by something unfamiliar. It was rare for there to be anything new in the library. Theirs was a dying world, and with bigger concerns, like staying alive and protecting towns from raiders, literature was not a priority. But today, on the desk by the entrance, was a glass bottle, the top broken off, and piece of paper rolled up and sitting inside. The kindly old man behind the counter saw him eying it.

"That's new, that is. I know you like to take a look at new things, young man."

"What is it?" Zexion asked, walking closer. He remained a respectful distance however, too scared to reach up towards the broken glass.

"It's a message in a bottle." The old man told him, eyes lit up with excitement, the kind that those his age rarely felt. Then again, there weren't that many who lived to be his age on this world.

"A message…in a bottle?" Zexion's whispered, eyes wide. This was just like his stories! A message in a bottle meant the start of an adventure, or a quest to save a damsel in distress. Maybe it was from a king in need of a knight!

"Someone found it lying in the park. When they opened the bottle and found the paper inside, they brought it here to find someone who could read it." The old man said, reaching over to gingerly pick up the precious paper. How sad, Zexion thought, that a king in need or damsel in distress would have their letter land here, on this run-down world where most couldn't even read, and fewer still were brave enough to even consider a mystic quest.

"What does it say?" Zexion finally dared to ask, voice filled with excitement.

"Here, read it yourself." The old librarian said, and handed the letter to the boy.

"Me?" Zexion questioned, but his hands moved of their own accord, reaching out for the precious letter.

"Yes, I think it's meant for you." The old man chuckled, and Zexion's eyes immediately dropped to the page to read. Some of the words were smudged, and broken glass had torn the paper in some places, but Zexion was able to make out most of the letter.

Dear Myst-y Person,

If you've found this le- then - -s you're special. I rea- wanted to find a friend, since I don't - - - now. I'm - - a new town, and it's - far away that - - - - - - on a Gummi Ship to - there. When - find this I hope you send me a let-r back, then at least I'll have - frie-. I prom-se that I'm really n-ce. Please write back.

Your new friend,

D-

The gist of the letter was clear. A mysterious person – D – was asking him to write a letter. D had traveled to a distant world, let loose a message in a bottle, and now needed Zexion to write back. This was Zexion's epic quest, to fulfill this duty. Perhaps D was a prince (the handwriting looked suspiciously male) and was in need of a friend while surrounded by new subjects. He must be someone important at least, to have ridden on a real Gummi Ship! Zexion had dreams of flying to other worlds, the feeling of looking out the window and seeing the depth and darkness of space, instead of the yellow dusty sky of his own world, the harsh clouds and broken horizon littered with desolate buildings of a lost age.

"Are you going to write back, young man?" The old librarian asked, eying the boy with a smile.

"I…have to ask my mother." Zexion said, handing the letter back with shaking hands. The old man pushed it back towards him.

"Keep it. It was meant for you, after all." He said, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Zexion nodded, aware of the depth of what the old man had just done. Anything written was a rarity in their world, those that could read even rarer. His mother was one of the few who kept that knowledge, and had taught him the skill when he was old enough to hold a book without hurting it. He considered this talent precious, and understood his mother's unwillingness to let it go. He was determined to not let his ability go to waste, and read constantly, or at least as often as his mother brought him to the library. Books were too precious to be brought home, after all.

And now, this old librarian was giving him this letter, this precious letter from another world. He was so excited that he nearly ran to his mother, forgetting to thank the librarian. But he remembered at the last moment, and the old man just smiled and nodded. Zexion then ran down the aisles of books, searching for his mother. He found her among the history books, where she could usually be found, trying to find the reason for their world's downfall. Zexion could never understand her desperate search for a reason when he was growing up. The past was the past, he told her, it won't change anything. Oh, but Zexion, she would say, people learn from the past, and what people learn shapes the future. We mustn't repeat our mistakes.

But he wasn't concerned with the future or the past in that moment. All he was concerned about was his letter, and his new friend. She read his letter, a tight smile on her lips, while he waited patiently at her feet.

"This is wonderful Zexion," she said, but her face didn't relax.

"Can I write him back?" Zexion asked, "I think that's his address at the bottom."

"What are you going to write on? We don't have any parchment, you know that." She said, awkward smile still in place.

"I have some money I saved from helping people around town. The mayor's wife gave me 5 munny when I helped her carry her grocery's the other day! I can use that to buy parchment!"

"That's a good idea sweetie, but…" Zexion's mother's voice faded out as she looked back down at the paper.

"What?" He asked, smiling falling from his face.

"Well sweetie," she started, "The thing is, it costs a lot of money to buy parchment, and it cost even more to send letters to a different world. We don't have that kind of money right now."

Zexion was instantly crushed. Everything he had been planning to say, everything he wanted to tell this mysterious prince of his, it was all ripped from him in this instant. He felt like his heart weighed a hundred pounds. His mother saw his despair.

"I'll tell you what we'll do Zexion." She said, lifting his chin up so he would look her in the eye, "You take your money and buy a little parchment, I'll even chip in a bit. Then you write your letter. Then, we'll save up money, special for you. And when we have enough we can send your letter to your new friend. How does that sound, hmm?"

Zexion was overjoyed, his hopes and dreams had just been handed back to him. He hugged his mother and she laughed, patting him on the head. She tucked the letter safely into her bag to take home, and Zexion ran back to tell the librarian. When he heard the plan, he smiled and reached under the desk. Curious, Zexion took hold of the edge and raised himself up. When the old man reappeared, he had in his hand a beautiful, crisp, stark white piece of paper. Next to it he placed a yellow pencil, tip flat, completely unused. Zexion gasped out loud.

"For your first letter. I've been saving them for something special."

When Zexion arrived home that night, he sat at his desk and pulled out that extraordinary blank piece of paper. He grabbed the pencil, which his mother had sharpened with a knife, and wrote his first letter to the mysterious D.

Dear D,

I found your letter. I didn't really find it, but it was given to me by my friend the librarian. I hope that I'm what you had in mind for a friend. I'll try my best to write you letters, but my mother says it costs a lot to send them, so I apologize if they don't arrive often.

It must be nice to live on a different world and ride in Gummi Ships. My world is sad, because everything is dying. My mother says it's because people a long time ago didn't take care of the world's heart, but I don't really understand that. Is your new world's heart okay?

I hope you get this letter soon when we have enough money to send it.

Zexion

The paper wasn't entirely filled by this, so Zexion put in a dry, safe place. He could fill up the rest of the space later, the paper was too precious to waste.

And so, Zexion began writing his letters to his mysterious D. He began taking on tasks around town, helping the remaining shopkeepers when he could, sometimes the librarian, saving up his munny. His mother never let him help the soldiers though. There to protect the town from raiders and vagabonds, they littered the streets and edges of town. They were a frightening bunch, grizzly and scarred from years of fighting. This meant, however, that they were the ones with the most munny, since towns paid well to be kept safe. Zexion's mother kept him away from them, but Zexion would have been too scared to ask them anyway.

Slowly but surely, Zexion acquired some munny. By that time, that one piece of paper was completely filled with letters to D, sometimes a few words, other times much longer, stories of trips with his mother or happenings of his small and mostly useless school. With his munny he went out and bought new parchment, and filled that up as well.

As time passed he filled up many pieces of paper the same way. He would get a little munny, buy some paper, fill it up as he got more munny, then use that munny to go buy more paper. The cycle continued endlessly. Eventually he had dozens of letters to D, all sitting quietly on his desk. He would write to D when he was sad, when he was happy, when he felt hopeless and depressed on this barren world, when he was optimistic about the future. All his emotions he poured out to D, never knowing who the other boy was.

He read that first letter often, through those broken torn words. He started keeping it in his pocket, carrying it wherever he went. The creases further obscured the words, but he knew it by heart by then. Just the feel of it close to him was what he wanted.

Eventually, as he grew up, he realized that D probably wasn't some prince from a kingdom far far away. He realized that the other boy had probably never even heard about the pitiful world that Zexion and his mother inhabited. And he realized, quite suddenly, that his letters were never going to be sent. He sat, starring at the pile of papers, all for one boy, and understood, wholly and completely, that D was never going to read what he had written. Would never open his mailbox to find a letter from Zexion, and read it with batted breath as Zexion had first read D's letter. And an emotion he never felt washed over him. Never before, even living on a dying planet, had he felt so utterly forsaken, so completely alone.

Zexion cried that night, and did the only thing he could do to make himself feel better.

He wrote a letter to D.

That's when he knew he was in love.

So he kept on writing. He kept on working and buying paper. He kept on recording his life and ideas and emotions. Because even if D didn't know he was writing, even if D would never get the letters, even if D didn't even exist, Zexion cared about him. He cared about the one person who, knowingly or not, had given Zexion a goal, a drive to do something in his life other than simply join the soldiers or find a pathetic job in a run-down store on a run-down world. He had given Zexion the drive to make it off of that dying planet, and that's what Zexion planned to do. And Zexion loved D for it.

Zexion loved D for reaching out to him, for giving him hope, for listening to him when Zexion had no one else to turn to. He knew, in his mind, that he had essentially created D. The real D was, in all probability, nothing at all like the one Zexion imagined. So Zexion decided to find him. He set his goal to not only get off of this barren world, but to find D, the real D, and compare. Just maybe, he would be everything Zexion hoped for. Just maybe, Zexion would find him, and D would greet him with open arms, hold him close and whisper, "I've been waiting for your letters."

So he wrote, and he saved, and he worked to get away. He went on loving his D, who was there to comfort him when the dry planet with the dusty sky became too much, waiting for the day he could meet the real D. When he felt hopeless, he clutched the letter in his pocket, and remembered that there was someone out there who he needed to find. Someone who he could look in the eye and say,

"You don't know me, but I know you. I've told you every secret of mine, every wish, and every fear. You've been there for me most of my life, and now I'm here for you. Tell me your dreams and worries, because I love you, and I'm here to listen. And I'll never leave if you don't want me to."

And this is how a forgotten letter, having landed on a desolate world, made Zexion fall in love.

Yes yes. Let's see how this goes, shall we?

I know you read it every time you finish any chapter of any fic, but please review. Not because I'm a raging narcissist, but because I do actually need critique. I realize that this could use a lot of work, and I'd like to know what to do to make it better and more enjoyable to read. Also, when people review, it makes me realize that people actually like the story and I should get off my lazy arse and work on it a little more often. At a normal time of day, for example XD

Thanks for reading!