A/N: This is the story behind Zexion's death in "The Angels are Crying."
It felt unfinished when I ended that fic, and I felt the need to back up Zexion dying...
Those reading this who haven't read the title mentioned above, I'm sorry for Zexy dying. )X
I apologize for my lack of knowledge on cancer; I did the very best I could.
I also apologize for the long section where Zexion is a kid, just beginning to go through treatment and such.
If you like this, go read the sequel-thing.
Or not.
Whatever you feel like doing.
0o0
"Zex, hon, don't brush your teeth so hard."
He and his mother look down into the sink, where Zexion has just spit out the toothpaste from brushing his teeth that evening. The toothpaste is tinted a very red color, and there is more so of that color than the actual toothpaste.
His mother frowns in obvious disapproval, and maybe with a hint of concern.
"Open up."
She prods at the mouth of her son with a finger, moving aside his upper lip to peer at Zexion's gums.
They are indeed bleeding where the gum ends and the tooth begins.
She stares a little longer before releasing him, holding out a cup of water.
"Okay. Rinse."
" 'Kay, Mommy."
Zexion doesn't quite understand why his Mommy looks so mad, her eyebrows all drawn up like that, but soon the wrinkle between them goes away, and Mommy looks like Mommy again.
0o0
Zexion is six when one day, in his kindergarten class, a drop of blood falls from his mouth to his desk in the middle of Curious George.
He stares at the tiny droplet for a moment, before gingerly touching the liquid.
Yes, it's blood.
He puts a finger on the inside of his mouth, brushing the pink of his gum. When he pulls it out, his fingertip is smeared red.
Shakily, he raises his left hand, staring at his fingertip.
When the teacher calls on him, he gets up, speed-walking over to her, forefinger out in front of him.
"Zexion, what-?"
The bloody finger is shoved in front of her face, and she leans away a bit, a grimace hinting at her delicate features. She gently takes the finger, peering at it.
"What's wrong? Did you hurt yourself?"
He shakes his head, and points at his mouth.
"Show me what's wrong, then."
He pulls his upper lip up, making his swollen gums apparent. Blood settles between each tooth, and some is even dripping down into the lower part of his mouth.
His teacher's face goes a little pale.
"Oh. Oh. Zexion. Come with me, let's...let's go call your Mom."
She takes the hand without blood on it a bit too quickly, and Zexion feels a bit panicky when he notices her rushed movements.
"Class. Stay here. Mrs. Gainsborough will be listening next door."
Without even bothering to mention her absence to the mentioned teacher, she takes the boy to the main office, completely skipping the nurse's office.
A phonecall and an explanation later, Zexion is in his mother's car on the way to the doctor.
He holds a tissue to his mouth, looking absently out the window, swinging his legs.
0o0
"Acute lymphocytic leukemia."
Zexion's mother chokes on the coffee she had been sipping.
"Excuse me?"
"Acute lympho-"
"Yes, I heard that. I mean...leukemia?"
"Yes." The doctor looks down at his clipboard, scratching his scrub-clad leg with his foot.
"He came in for bleeding gums. How the hell did you come up with leukemia?"
"Well, when it was clear he didn't have gingivitis or something of the sort, we looked into other things. You remember that we took his blood, correct?"
She nods, trying to cease the fearful churning of her stomach.
"We tested him for things that may have caused the bleeding, and we looked into blood problems, like leukemia."
He waits for her reaction, and she nods again.
"The tests came back positive for acute lymphocytic leukemia. You see, this is when the body's ability to produce white blood cells called lymphocytes goes out of control, and it produces too many. It causes a buildup of the immature forms of lymphocytes.
The over-production of these blood cells cause fewer platelets to be formed, causing abnormal bleeding."
A silence followed, one that was filled with a wide-eyed woman's questions.
She swallowed the bile that had gathered in her throat, and looked down at the white, sterile tile of the room.
Leukemia.
"Ah, there isn't much reason for worry, though."
She looks up again, slightly startled.
"This type of cancer has a high survival rate, Ms. Nightly, and with agressive treatment, can be cured rather quickly."
Hope peers a little over the black feeling in her stomach, but that negative shadow there seems to take up most of that space.
He can be cured.
No.
He will be cured, she decides.
0o0
"Leu-leukemia?"
"Yes."
"What's that, Mommy?"
Zexion is confused at his mother's words.
She had told him that he would be sick for a while, maybe longer, but he would get better very soon.
He doesn't like being sick; He doesn't like hospitals, either.
They stuck him with a needle just a little while ago, and it hurt. Real bad. They gave him a lollipop and a colorful bandaid though, so that made up for it a little bit.
He watches his mother's knuckles turn white as she grips the steering wheel a little too hard.
His mother doesn't answer his question, and he looks at his feet.
"I don't like being sick, Mommy."
Still, there was silence from the front of the car.
Zexion didn't know that his mother was hardening herself for what was to come.
He didn't see her blood-shot eyes that held back tears, either.
0o0
The first session of Chemotherapy arrives.
She tries to reassure herself that he is getting better, all the pain Zexion will go through will kill that damn disease in his body, but it's hard.
She can only imagine how it will feels for Zexion.
He is required a spinal tap to put the necessary drugs into his body, to keep the cancer from spreading to the nervous system.
They put him under anasthesia to make sure he doesn't feel the pain, and procede with putting in his IV when he is completely asleep.
She watches with watery eyes as her child sleeps deeply.
When he wakes later, he is crying and disoriented.
0o0
In the following months, Zexion stops struggling when he comes in for his chemo treatments. He only looks at his mother with a blank expression on his face when they poke and prod at him with needles.
She doesn't know if the struggling and crying was worse or this blankness.
More time passes.
Zexion begins to lose the hair that she absolutely loved. Not just the hair on his head, either.
His long, pretty eyelashes disappear in little flurries of hair.
Eyebrows become less prominent, then don't exist all together.
He stares at himself with a little pocket mirror for hours, between times when he is vomiting into a blue basin beside his hospital bed.
Ms. Nightly reads to him, trying to coax him away from the trance he seems to be in.
"Zex, put the mirror down. Listen, honey."
He keeps staring at his reflection before slowly raising a hand to his face.
"Mommy."
"Yes?"
"Mommy, I'm ugly." His lower lips tremble the tiniest bit, and his gorgeous eyes begin to water, tears that would once cling to lashes trickling down his cheeks.
She puts the book down and pulls her son to her chest, wrapping her arms around her son.
"No, Zexion. You're beautiful. You're beautiful no matter what."
He is, she thinks. Her boy is beautiful.
However, despite her opinion, her little boy sobs into her shirt, the action making him tremble and shake.
xXx
Zexion is ten when being in remission breaks four years.
School began that August, and a few new people moved to Hollow Bastion, but mostly the faces he saw were familiar. His friends, and using the term friends could be questionable, are still there.
It's pretty much the same as always.
People still shy away from him a bit, even though they have been told time and time again that cancer is not contagious. They say hi and be nice to him and all, they just don't get too close.
Because, you know, he could "die any minute", as he heard a sixth grader say in the bathrooms one day.
That was awfully stupid of them to think, but he paid it as little mind as he could. They weren't properly informed, is all.
A new kid, Demyx, has come to the school, and his classmates wasted no time in telling him about Zexion's cancer.
Zexion had been sitting on the baby slide no one ever used, reading, when he overheard.
"Yeah. Our sick kid is Zexion Nightly. He's got cancer."
He looked over, and it was a boy named Seifer telling Demyx, who's aqua eyes were wide and his mouth in an "O".
Seifer soon noticed Zexions staring and shut up quick, looking down. Demyx noticed the sudden silence and looked over to Zexion.
He went from smiling brightly to guilty.
Seifer and Demyx walked off, and Zexion went back to his book.
He tries not to let it bother him when he realizes that look that everyone got when they learned Zexion had cancer had settled on the new boy's face.
That poor kid, he's sick. I bet he'll die soon.
Not a month passes, and one day at recess (Zexion is reading again, he always does.) he feels a tap on his shoulder.
He looks behind him to see Demyx, chin resting on the yellow plastic of the baby slide.
"Hi. I'm Demyx. You know me right?"
Zexion blinks.
"Yes. You're in my class."
"Yeah. Hey, what're you reading?"
"Howl's Moving Castle."
Demyx nods, biting his lip and eyes pointing downward.
"Hey." he says suddenly, aqua eyes finding Zexions.
"What."
"Are you gonna die?"
Zexion sucks in air a little too fast, choking. He coughs, putting down his book.
"N-No! Why w-would you even-" he coughs again.
"-why would you even ask that question!"
Demyx stares for a minute, then bursts into a fit of laughter, falling onto the woodchipped ground below. His face turns red and he rolls.
"Oh my GOD." He cries when he is done laughing.
"What?"
"That was SUPER ironic! I actually thought you were gonna choke to death."
He giggles a little more and gets up. Zexion is a little offended, but smiles all the same.
"That's hardly funny. I actually might have died."
Demyx smiles at him, and Zexion thinks he just might have made a friend.
0o0
The years pass, and Zexion forgets about the cancer sleeping in his body.
All he cares about is Demyx, and that he was best friends with him.
He quickly learns that Demyx doesn't care at all that Zexion has cancer at all, and is quick to scowl at any person that treats Zexion differently for having it.
They don't talk about it much, either.
They're too busy being boys, growing from kids to preteens to teenagers, going through the awkwardness of puberty all too quickly, it seemed.
With puberty brings a new discovery of Zexion's.
He doesn't seem to be attracted to girls, or boys for that matter.
Demyx is the only thing on his mind when he thinks of the concept of crushes or love.
When they were ten, it was admiration and platonic love, or so he thought. It progressed from there, and at fourteen he notices how Demyx makes him feel.
Zexion has all the symptoms that describe those romantic feelings when Demyx is around.
Sweaty palms, rapid heartbeat, flushed face, fluttery stomach.
He giggles like an idiot at Demyx's jokes and his cheeks hurt from smiling all the time, and he isn't sure if that's a good thing or not.
Demyx is such a happy person.
He is a great person, nearly perfect in Zexion's eyes.
And so, the only logical explanation is right there in front of him, and when he looks at Demyx's hair in the sunlight, his smile, his eyes, he knows.
He loves that boy, and it will probably hurt him later.
0o0
"Try it."
"No."
"Zexyyyyyyy. Please. Do it for Dem-Dem?"
Demyx pouts much too well for a boy of sixteen and holds out a spoon of black gurgling liquid that he has concocted, scooped from a pot.
Zexion shuts his lips tight and looks away. The pout almost broke him.
"Demyx, no."
"Whoa!"
The spoon Demyx is holding falls to the floor, splattering the gunk on the floor. Zexion jumps, looking down.
"Damn, Demyx! What's the matter with you!"
"Zexion, you're bleeding. A lot."
A panicky feeling jumps into Zexion's throat and his hand flies to his face.
Sure enough, his nose is bleeding profusely, much more than what could be normal.
Some falls to the floor in bright, scarlet dribbles, and Zexion feels a sense of deja-vu settle over him.
"A-are you okay?"
Zexion has studied his disease thoroughly, and knows bleeding, in all sorts of disguises, is a sign of relapse.
"Demyx." He says quietly, looking at his hand, smeared red. "Call my mom."
0o0
"Relapse?"
Demyx stares at Zexion, who's sitting in his hospital bed, lips pursed.
"It means my cancer has come back."
Demyx's eyes are watery and red in an instant, and his had flies out to grip Zexion's wrist. Zexion yanks it away, sighing.
"Demyx, please don't be dramatic. Let me explain."
Demyx uses the back of his hand to wipe away forming tears.
"The cancer I have is one with a high survival rate. Nearly eighty percent. Don't worry."
He tries to smile reassuringly, but in all truth, he's a little scared too.
"I'll be fine."
0o0
And so, chemotherapy begins, and once again, for the first time in nearly ten years, Zexion loses his hair again. He takes to wearing odd hats he's collected over the years, and today he's wearing a green and yellow striped beanie.
He scratches at his IV, then pulls his hand back.
Today isn't exactly a good day for him.
He's feeling depressed, because the last of his hair has finally fallen out, and the nausea from the drugs is strong. That very moment he was trying not to hurl all over Demyx, who sat next to him, dealing out cards for Go Fish.
Demyx keeps looking back at Zexion, looking anxious.
"Zex?"
Zexion nods. He fears saying something will cause the vomit to rise up again.
"You okay?"
God, if only you knew.
He doesn't nod or respond this time, only focusing on the green blanket his legs were settled under.
"Zexy?"
Zexion quickly leans over, slamming one of his hands down on the blanket, grabbing the basin that sits on the opposite side of his bed, leaning over it and vomiting into it.
Demyx understands instantly and climbs up on the bed, patting Zexion's back.
Zexion pushes at Demyx weakly with his hand.
"No, Zexion. I'm gonna stay here."
Zexion feels horrible for puking in front of Demyx, but is glad that Demyx stayed anyway.
0o0
Zexion gets worse in a minor six months.
Much, much worse.
That's all there is to it.
The treatments, it seemed, weren't working, and while his doctor and his mother discussed radiation, he knew.
He knows he isn't going to make it.
Zexion was weak, the chemotherapy taking nearly every resource from his body in order to fight the losing battle with the cancer.
He looked terrible, he knew.
He was death-camp thin, bones in his hands, arms, face, well, everywhere, showing.
His teeth were terribly broken down, and he preferred to keep his mouth shut nowadays.
He knows from the way Demyx looks at him.
Demyx looks scared when he comes by to hold Zexion's hand when he goes through experimental chemo treatments that are more often than not painful.
He squeezes Zexion's hand with a death-grip.
Zexion thinks that Demyx knows too.
Demyx knows that Zexion is going to die, so he comes by everyday at the hospital, his best friend, his first love, and last, if he's right.
Zexion wants to tell Demyx he loves him. He won't though, not yet.
It will only hurt him.
And so, Zexion waits as he gets weaker.
0o0
The day Zexion knows he's going to die, it's raining.
The odd thing is, even though he's known he's going to die for a while now, he okayed the use of radiation they were planning on using tomorrow.
Zexion stares out a window for a while, Demyx holding his hand a bit more gently than usual, or maybe it's just him.
Then, suddenly, he gets the urge.
"Hey Demyx?"
"Yea, Zexion?"
"I love you. Okay?"
Zexion smiles, love for Demyx brewing forever greater when Demyx returns it.
"I love you too."
And with that, he pulls a bit on Demyx's shirt, hoping Demyx might catch the hint. Luckily, he does, and their lips meet sweetly, making Zexion's heart flutter.
Demyx climbed onto the bed, facing Zexion, bringing the boy into his arms.
Zexion sighed happily, breathing in the scent of Demyx as he leaned his head into Demyx's chest.
It wasn't exactly comfortable, what with his IV and all, but it was nearly perfect, like Demyx himself.
He closed his eyes, and succumbed to a comforting, tiring blackness.
0o0
A/N: And, that's it.
I apologize SO MUCH for this angst-fest, but my explanations are in the first AN.
It was much better in my head, and I wish I could've done a little better, but alas, I am satisfied.
Reviews are welcome.
Flames are fed to Russia.