A/N: Oh jeese... This took me almost a month to write! It's the first in a series of one-shots (maybe two if I like the stories enough) based off of songs that I will be naming The Song Series. Ingenius, yes?

Anyway. This is extremely sad and sweet. I love it, though. I'm insanely proud of it. Reviews are very much appreciated!

Summary: Now, Son, I'm only telling you this because life can do terrible things. You'll learn one day. I'll hope and I'll pray that God shows you differently.

Disclaimer: This story is entirely based off of two things: Mayday Parade's song Terrible Things and Demyx and Zexion's love. Kingdom Hearts is not mine, I'm afraid...

Terrible Things

The tall man brushed a stray piece of hair out of his son's face. He drew the young boy close to him, rocking him slowly. He felt the pain in his chest swelling again, and closed his eyes, pressing away the tears. He planted a soft kiss on the boy's forehead before carefully laying him down. He sighed, brushing a hand through choclate hair and creeping slowly out the room. "Goodnight, Sora..." He closed the door with both hands, making as little noise as possible.

He snuck down the hallway, glancing at his relfection in the bathroom mirror as he past, but quickly shot his eyes back down. His eyes, usually blue and dancing, were hollow and sad. His skin pale, his lips light and chapped. He tried not to think about the tears that had been staining his face for the past week. The past year, if he was perfectly honest.

Demyx shook his head, pushing out thoughts of love, loss, hope, and pain. He sat on their bed - no, his bed. There was no "their". Not anymore. He stared at his hands, the ring on his finger catching in the light. He touched it and spun it around on his finger. He slowly took it off, his eyes glued to the intricate pattern on the inside. He stood tiredly, walking to his dresser. He felt as if he hadn't slept in days, months, years... His blond hair was a mess, having run his fingers through it constantly for the past few hours.

He reached for the framed picture on the dresser, and took the photograph out of it's frame. "Zex..." Demyx clutched the old picture to his chest, and finally let go. His body shook and his eyes burned. He sunk to the floor, crying into his knees. The ring fell from his hands and rolled across the floor. His ears perked up at the sound of the metal hitting the ground, and he crawled frantically after it, panic filling him. He grabbed onto it quickly, bringing it to his chest with the pitcure. He clung to them tightly, careful not to wrinkle the picture. It was the only one he had of just his love. Zexion didn't like having his picture taken...

Demyx put the ring back on his finger and fell onto the bed, picture still close to him. He raised it up, looking at it intently. "I miss you, Zexy. So, so much..." He lowered his arms and let out a chocked sob.

The floor outside his doorway creaked. "Daddy?"

Terrible Things - Mayday Parade

"Dad?"

Demyx sat up, alert and sharp. He shoved the picture into his pillowcase and discreetly wiped his face. "Hey! What can I do for ya, Kid?" He turned to his son and smiled weakly.

The teenager looked at his father doubtfully. He took a step into the room and snuck a peak at his dad's bed. He saw a patch of green, the corner of a picture. Shaking his head and sighing, he sat down next to the older man. "Dad..." Sora chewed his bottom lip, "Dad, it's been tweleve years."

The aging man stood up, looking at his son sadly. "Not to me, Kid. I swear, it feels like I just got back from the... from the funeral. Like he just left us." He looked at his still-ringed finger, offering an empty smile to his boy. "You would have loved him. He was so much like you." He touseled his hair, a warm look filling his face. He reached over and pulled out the photograph and handed it to him. "He was so... so unique. Smart, abrassive and insensivitve." He chuckled at the offended look his son shot him and added, "That was his charm. The edgy rock that hid his beauty." His blue eyes darted from the picture to his son. "I know this isn't posible, but I swear, you have his eyes."

"Do you miss him?" He asked, wondering at the picture in his father's hand.

"Every second of every day."

"Dad?" Demyx looked at him expectantly. "Could you... could you tell me about him? About Ze... About Father?"

Demyx suddenly smiled a pure, joyful smile. His eyes lit up and he sighed. "I suppose I could do that. Only for you, though, Kid."

Terrible Things - Mayday Parade

By the time I was your age, I'd give anything to fall in love. It was truly all I could think. That's when I met your father - the boy of my dreams, the most beautiful man that I'd ever seen.

It was in the middle of summer. One of the hottest ones that I could remember. I was working in the record shop, and he was working at the bookstore across the street. I'd never met him, even seen him, until that day. But, I'm getting a tad bit ahead of myself. Let me tell you about me, who I was then.

I was eighteen, finishing up my senior year at Twilight High. I was loud, obnoxious, and full of myself. There wasn't a task I couldn't master, not a boy I couldn't win over, nothing. I was a champ. I was strong, young and handsome. I hoped to become a rock star, and find a boy that I could take around the world with me on my tours. I was ready to leave my small town and move on to something better.

That's how I came across my job at the music shop. Xemnas, who owned half of Twilight Town at this point, had overheard my deserperate whinings of, "I need moneeeyyyy!"

Seven days a week. After school on weekdays, open til close on weekends. I worked hard for my money. Organizing albums, restocking the vending machines out front, bringing in instruments...

That's when I saw him, Kid. I caught the shine of his glasses through the window of the book shop, and my eyes trailed over to him. He was... something else. Hair unneccessarily long for a boy, shorter than many of the girls I know, and a look of pure frustration on his face. He was standing on his tip-toes trying to slide a book onto one of the uppermost shelves. I could see taller workers walking quickly past him. I felt a small bubble of outrage for the tiny man. Surely it wasn't so hard to stop and help him?

Then, I did something you should never, ever do. I left Xemnas' shop and walked across to the book store. The scent of cinnamon and old books filled my nostrils and I smiled. It smelled like my grandfather's house. I quickened my paced when I saw that he was about to lose his balance. I steadied him and grinned broadly, "Well hello!"

His clear eyes widened behind his frames and he squeaked, squriming out of my grasp. I let him go, my hands raising in the air. "How dare you! I don't recall asking for you to touch me, you fu-"

"Whoa, Shorty!" I stared at him with eyes equally as wide as his and felt my head shaking, "Take a chill pill! I saw you having an issue, so I thought-"

"Thought what?" He snapped, pushing his hair out of his eyes. God, he was so beautiful. "Thought I was weak and pathetic because of my size? Thought big, strong, brave you could save me from putting the heavy book on the big, bad shelf? Or was it my minor fall to the ground that worried you?" He jumped and shoved the book onto the shelf before turning back to me sharply. I had to try my hardest not to grin as his eyes narrowed at me. He was so cute! "I appreciate your concern, I suppose, but I'm seventeen years old, not -"

"I'm eighteen."

He stared at me with an odd expression before nodding slowly, "Yes... Well... Congradulations. I'm sure your parents are proud. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go to work." I pulled his arm lightly, letting go when he practically growled at me. "What do you want?"

"Lunch." I said simply.

"No." He told me, just as short.

"Yes." I was still smiling, "Lunch. Not breakfast, so you won't have to deal with me early in the morning. Not dinner, so you won't have to suffer through desert."

"No. No lunch, no dinner, no breakfast, no mid-day snack. Nothing." He turned on his heel and picked up a stack of books, "Now, I'd appreciate you leaving the store. Marluxia won't be happy if I slack on keeping the books organized."

I sighed and shrugged my shoulders. Well, it was worth a shot. I shot him a small wace as I left, striding down the street. Maybe I was imagining it, but I could have sworn I felt his eyes on me.

All that day I couldn't keeep my mind on work. I was looking over at him constantly, only to find him looking back. His eyes would get wide and he'd blush before busying himself with something. Now, son, this is when I did something I'm not exactly proud of. Well, if it won me your father, I guess I should be proud of it.

Around noon the street always emptied. Workers left to go up-town for lunch, shoppers retreated to clothing and accerssory stores. I lifted my shirt over my head, and walked outside. There were some heavy drums out there that had conviently needed some moving. I bent down to pick one up, and I heard as loud rukus from across the street. I shot up and looked over to see the boy covered in books, legs splayed out on the floor. He was blushing furiously and stood up, picking the m all up.

I smirked before continuing about my chore. When I was done, I bought myself a water and headed back inside. I parked myself in a chair that sat near the window and chugged as much of the water that I could down, "accidentally" spilling some onto my chest in the process. The bell to the store dinged and I opened one of my eyes.

'Score...'

"Why do you keep looking at me?" He asked, his voice shrill. "It's making me uncomfortable. You don't even know me, and you're looking at me like you love me. It's making me very... very nervous. I don't enjoy it. Please stop." I couldn't help but notice his eyes glancing at my chest every other word or so.

"What if I am?"

He frowned, "Are what?"

"In love with you."

"That's preposturous! You know my age and where I work. That's hardly a foundation for a relationship, let alone love." He rolled his eyes and went to leave, one hand on the door frame and the other holding the door itself open. "Now, I've asked you once. Please. Stop. Looking at me."

"Give me a chance!" I blurted out. I felt my cheeks redden. He looked at me with one raised eyebrow. "One chance to prove it. I love you. Or I could. You've got sass. It's what I want. No. What I need." I smirked, "Plus, your glasses are cute."

He hesitated before saying, "Lunch. Tomorrow, around this time. I can't afford to take off of work, so it'll be during my break. And..." he paused, looing out the window at his work. A man with pink hair was looking around angrily across the street, "And I like desert."

Terrible Things - Mayday Parade

Demyx smiled at his Sora. "Then, we went on our first date..."

"Wait!" His son held up his hands, asking for a pause. "He agreed? But... you didn't even know each other's names!"

He nodded sadly, "Yeah. I know. But, we learned them later." He made a 'tsk-tsk' noise. "You'd have heard that part if you'd led me keep talking."

Sora, usually unable to keep his attention on one thing for long, nodded eagerly in anticipation, "Alright, alright! C'mon!"

Now it was Demyx's turn to hold up yield-ing hands. "Now, Son..." He chewed on his lip, trying to figure out how to proceed, "I'm only telling you this because life can do terrible things."

Terrible Things - Mayday Parade

Like I was saying, your father and I went on our first date. It wasn't anything spectacular. I was only a part-time manager at that music shop, after all. I didn't have the money to take him to Xig's, the old Italian place down the road from his bookshop. I couldn't drive over and pick him up in a shiny convertable, or even try to impress him by tipping the waiter three times over. I would have, though, Kid. I would have given him my whole world. Picked the moon right out of the sky and given it to him on a ring. Anything for him.

There was just something about him. His eyes, his too-long hair, the way he'd gone off on me on a moments notice... It was just, I guess, perfect.

When I walked across the street to pick him up, I grinned madly when I saw him. He was stunning. Son, don't let anyone ever tell you a man can't be beautiful. Because, and I put my life on this still, your father was gorgeous. It was all I could think about as I approached him, his gray-ish hair falling in his face, slate eyes scanning the street for me. I could tell he was trying to act like he wasn't excited when they finally caught sight of me. Okay, well, maybe he wasn't. But, Kid, that didn't stop me from praying he was.

He stuck out his hand when I got closer, and I grabbed it and shook it vigorously. "Hey, Shorty!"

He scoffed, "Hello." He shifted awkwardly on his feet. I'm not sure what he was thinking, but I like to think that he was marveling at how handsome I looked today, having washed my hair five times the previous night. Extra volume, y'know? "So... Where are we going?"

Now it was my turn to be awkward. "The Pot?"

He cocked his head to the side, his brows furrowing. "The bar?"

"Well... Yeah..." Oh, God. This was embarassing... "My friend Luxord owns it. He always gives me special treatment there. Great table, fresh drinks, discounts... The works." 'Shit, shit, shit... He's going to know I'm broke! He won't want a broke-ass guy like me!' "I mean! If that doesn't work, I can think of somewhere else!"

That beautiful creature in front of me shook his head. "No, no... The Pot works. I could... I could use a drink anyway." He chuckled hollowly. "Long day."

I smiled sheepishly at him, and we started our walk. I learned a lot about your father in that twenty-minute walk, Kid. For instance, he was working for a degree in World Politics from Twilight University. He'd wanted to be a campaign manager one day. He grew up in Oblivion City, then he and his mother moved to Twilight Town after his dad had passed away. ("Chondrosarcoma... Cancer.") He didn't have many friends. He was picked on in high school, and graduated with top marks. When I approached the subject if previous boyfriends, he'd gotten quiet.

"What?" I asked nervously.

"There was one other guy. He was..." he seemed to be racking his brain for the right word. "He was incorrigible. Always pushing me for everything I didn't want. He wanted me to go into medicine. He reasoned that it might possibly help me cope with my father's death." The small man shrugged. "It made sense. It just wasn't for me. Then, one say, I caught him with someone else. A woman, no less. After that, we never spoke. He didn't try to contact me, and I gave him the same respect. We were done."

I frowned. Images of big, burly men barging in upon my date, declaring that they were with the boy plagued my mind. I pushed them out hastily. I hated thinking like that. This wasn't a soap opera, for crying out loud. This was life. Real life.

My eyes trailed down the body next to him as they took their seats. "I wouldn't do that." I said.

"Do what?" Asked your father who had been ordering his drink. A mojito. How cute.

"Cheat on you."

The other blushed. "You can't know that. You aren't a pshycic. We're not even together. It's hard to cheat when you're not commited."

Well, that was true. If there was no relationship, you couldn't cheat. But, Kid, I was determined to have a relationship with this guy.

I nodded. We ate our lunch and talked. Nothing special. He had a salad. I had a cheeseburger. We ate. We talked. It was so ridiculously un-special that, for a moment, I thought I'd made a mistake. Maybe I didn't want a relationship with this person. But, then I dripped grease down my front, and he laughed.

Son, when people talk about angels singing, they're talking about your father's laugh. Don't ever forget that. It was bells, it was birds, it was the Hallelujah Chorus. And, for the rest of my life, it became my mission to hear it as many times as possible.

Terrible Things - Mayday Parade

After our first date, we had our second. It was the next day, after he'd gotten off of work. It was late, almost ten. We talked about other places. Seafood, Mexican, Chinese... But The Pot was where we went. I'd asked him a question about his mother, and he'd shaken his lovely head. "It's your turn." And then bombared me with question after question. My favorite color (blue), where I'd grown up (Hollow Bastion), about my parents (still in Hollow Bastion, living like I didn't exist)...

"What did you do?" he'd asked me.

"Me?" I felt slightly offended, "Who said I did anything?"

"Well?"

I sighed. "I was caught, uhm, in bed with someone."

"Oh!" Your father blinked his round eyes, his cheeks darkening. "Well. Who was the lucky girl?"

"Wha...?" I choked on my beer. "Girl? What makes you think - "

He shrugged, "Well, you're not unattractive. It's highly likely that you've had sex multiple times already." He ignored my red cheeks and pressed on, "I'm not judging, truly. You're eighteen. It would be ridiculous to think that, in this day and age, you'd still be a virgin. As long as she didn't get pregnant, though, I don't see - "

I motioned for him to be quiet. "Look, Shorty... I thought my intentions here were pretty clear. But, if you're going on about me getting anyone pregnant, maybe I wasn't as straight-forward as I'd thought." I wrapped my hand around his smaller one, grinning as he turned a unique shade of green. "I'm as gay as the day is long. I kiss guys, take guys back to my apartment, and - if the guy is special enough - I rock their world."

"Y-You... you want to rock my world?" He slipped his hand out from mine before slipping it awkwardly into his lap.

"Well, yes. But I want more than that. I want to take you out like this all the time. I want to sleep in your bed, or you to sleep in mine. I want to love you, Shorty. And I desperately want you to want to love me, too."

Then, Kid, later that night, I learned your father's name. I had him pressed against my front door, my thigh in between his. My hands were in his hair. "What's your name?" I'd asked. "I'd like to know what to scream."

"Z-Zexion."

"Zexion?" I smiled, pulling away from him, lacing our fingers together. "Hmm... I think I like that. Well, nice to finally meet you Zexion. I'm Demyx." And then, Son, we did things that you are only to do if you're fifty-five and married.

Terrible Things - Mayday Parade

The boy blushed furiously. "Ew! Dad! Couldn't you have left that out?"

Demyx chuckled, his voice tired, "Well, Son. I could have told you about how your father's eyes closed as I bent him backwards and -"

"No!" Sora yelped, "God, Dad! Gross! Just... just continue, alright? Jeeze..."

Terrible Things - Mayday Parade

Your father and I saw each other for seven months after that. Seven /glorious/ months. Every Saturday night we'd sneak some of his mom's vodka - I mean, lemonade - and head out to the pasture behind our school. We'd laugh and dare each-other to count the stars. And we'd try, your father always counting higher than I, before we'd lose count. If we'd had too much lemonade, we'd fall asleep there. Those were my favorite nights. I can still feel your father's head on my chest, his hand clentching my hip bone for dear life. We'd wake up, groggy and our breath reeking of lemons, and head to my small apartment for breakfast.

Those were some of the best times of my life. Then, one day, I'd made a decision. I loved your father. He loved me. I could tell. He rarely said it, and when he did, it was with hesitation. But the way his eyes shone at me, the way his lips would spread wide when he smiled at me, his eyes crinkling at their corners, I knew he did. Even if he didn't. I would propose. It would be perfect. Magical. I would sweep him off of his dainty feet, plop him onto my white horse, and we would gallop away into our proverbial sunset.

For weeks I planned. I picked the perfect restraunt, found a marvelous ring, priced out how much it would cost to fill my apartment with roses, the whole speel. It would be on a Friday, one week after his eighteenth birthday. There would be candles, and I'd hide desert in the fridge. I'd pull out a velvet box, drop to one knee, and propose. He'd be so over-whelmed by my stunning good looks, and jump up and down proclaim his love for me was everlasting, then that would be that.

Then, the week of my plans approached. In my excitement, I'd bought the flowers early, and they'd all wilted into nothing. That perfect little Thai restraunt was shut down, due to the owner declairing bankruptcy. While testing the smells of the candles, I'd lit my drapes on fire and burned half of my living room. Having to pay for repairs, the ring I wanted was out of reach.

My plans were altered. Drasctically. Instead of Thai, I brought him to The Pot. Instead of the flashy, saphire-studded band I'd wanted, I'd given him a simple silver one. The flowers were canceled out completely, as did everything else having to do with my apartment.

After dinner, I brought him to our special place on the top of the hill. He pulled the lemonade out of his bag, and chuckled before pointing out how empty it had become since our relationship began. I took the comment in stride, telling him that it God didn't want us to drink lemonade, he wouldn't have made lemonade factories. He took a swig from the bottle before handing it to me.

"Actually, Dem," he began, making a face as the lemonade burned his throat, "God couldn't have made lemonade factories. As a matter of fact, if he made anything at all, he only made the people responsible for said factories. While your point is valid and understable, I believe you should watch how you word things." He hiccuped. "Dumbass."

I snorted, sending some of the drink out my nose. "Ah, shit!" I held the cuff of my sleeve to my nose, my eyes shut tight. "Holy shitted fuck! That fucking stings!" I shook my head vigorously, blinking my eyes to keep them from watering. Your father was laughing his special laugh. His eyes were closed, his head thrown back, and his mouth had a wide-set grin on it. I braced myself. I wiped my face clean. I straightened my shirt. 'Okay, Dem... It's now or never...'

I pulled your father to his feet. "Zexion." He looked at me, still laughing slightly. He put the bottle to his lips and took a long drink, his eyes never leaving mine. I decided I'd better hurry, before the lemonade kicked in. "Zexion. I love you, you know that, right?" He nodded slowly, his face confused. "Well. Good. 'Cause... Uhm... I do." 'Goddammit! Get yourself together! Go!' "Zex. You're amazing. For one, you're beautiful. Not like you think I'm beautiful, but beautiful. You glow all the time, and you just... you're amazing. You're personality is flawless. You're so smart, and funny, and charming, and you treat me better than anyone ever has, and..." I took a breath. "And I want to be by your side for always. I want to come home from work, and see you sitting on the sofa reading a huge book. I want to cook for you, sing for you; Hell, I'd do a month's worth of laundry, as long as you were right there with me while I did it." His eyes widened in understanding. "Like I said, I love you Zex. So..." I got down to one knee, the grass folding beneath me. I pulled out the misshapen lump that was the ring-box. "Will you marry me?"

He froze. The bottle slipped from his hand, spilling everywhere. His lips trembled and his fingers shook. He took the box from my hand and stared at it, almost disbelieving. He pulled at the twine that held the little cardboard box shut and I blushed. He's say no. I knew it. He would marry someone that couldn't even afford a real box? He opened it and pulled out the ring he sank to his knees, leveling himself out with me. He smiled. He put the ring on his finger. He took my face in his hands. "Yes." Then, he kissed me. And, Kid, I was wrong earlier. Those Saturday nights weren't the best moments. This one moment, where your father lips hit mine, and I knew that from that moment on mine were the only lips they'd be touching, I was the only man that would make his heart beat like it was, that I was going to have him for the rest of my life... That was the best moment.

Terrible Things - Mayday Parade

"I promise to hold you every night. I promise to never stray. I promise to come home to you every night. I promise to never take it personally when you throw a book 'in my general direction'. I promise to learn the difference between 'who' and 'whom'. I promise to lock our fingers when we walk in the park. I promise to play my AC/DC as quietly as I can, while still holding respect for the late Bon Scott. I promise that, from this moment on, I will put my dirty socks straight into the hamper. I promise to love you, for all of my days." I held his fingers tighter in mine. "You go!"

"Demyx," he started, "I promise to keep this shorter. I promise to withhold negative comments as often as possible. I promise to dance with you as often as I can. I promise to tolerate your AC/DC as long as it is at a low decibile. In turn, I promise to keep my Mozart and Bach just as low. I promise to aim less books at you. I promise to learn to cook spaghetti without burning the noodles. I promise to love you, even after we part ways."

"Well!" I tore my eyes away from your father to look at your Mummy Aerith. One hand on her belly where you rested, the other holding a bible or something similar. She was grinning madly, her legs shaking from exhaustion of holding her pregnant weight. "By the power vested in me by the city of Twilight Town and Our Lord, I no declair this marriage official. Now, kiss!"

And, we did.

Terrible Things - Mayday Parade

You already know the story of how your father and I got you, Kid. Mummy Aerith was... unfit. She did horrible things with horrible men, in return for even more horrible things. It's not her fault, though, Son. She's sick. I don't want you to ever hate her. She still loves you very much. Writes from her cell as often as she can.

I'm disappointed, of course. What brother would want to see their sister turn into someone like that? She was so sweet... So smart... But, I can't be too upset. I got you out of the deal.

Terrible Things - Mayday Parade

"Dad?"

Demyx looked up from his hands, "I'm sorry, Son. Just... give me a minute. This is where things get tricky..."

"I know, Dad." Sora put a sympathetic hand on his dad's shoulder.

"I just... Every night, I hope and I pray, that God shows you differently. That he doesn't - doesn't do to you what he did to me."

Terrible Things - Mayday Parade

"Demyx," your father started, "Demyx, I'm sick."

That's what started it. Those few words. They were the catalyst to the down fall of our family. My own personal apocolyps. Of course, at the time, I had no idea.

"Oh no! It's okay, Zexy." I stood quickly and went to the kitchen, "Sora had a cold last week, he probably gave it to you. Kids! You always say how they're little carrier-monkies." I laughed merrily, until our eyes met as he followed in behind me.

"Dem. Sit."

And I did.

"Listen."

And I did.

Zexion sat across from me at our small table. He sat up as straight as always, his hands folded politely in front of himself. He reminded me of a business man, and I felt like I was in for an important briefing. Which, I guess, I was. "Demyx, I - " He stopped himself. He seemed at a loss for words. Something that never happened with your father. He was well-known for his biting wit, quick comments and factual retorts. But that day, you could tell nothing he said came out quite how he wanted.

He collected himself, taking a deep, shaking breath and closing his eyes. "I went to the doctor. He said... I mean... Dem, do you remember what I told you on our first date? About my father?" His eyes opened, but he refused to make my gaze. His fingers fiddeled with each other on the table. I felt a sense of dread fill me. 'No...'

"It's - It's my pancreas. I haven't been feeling well lately, so I went to see Dr Vexen last month. He - he noticed some swelling. A - a cyst. He thought it would be so benign. I mean, I'm so young! Only ten percent of the people with Adenocarcinoma are under fourty!" His voice spead up. So did my blood. I could feel it rushing through me. My breath, though, I couldn't forced to escape me. It stayed still, tucking into my lungs, making my insides shake. 'Please... Please, no...'

His hands were now in his hair, cradling his head as he leaned over the table. I wanted to reach out to him, but my body was frozen. "He..." his voice cracked. He swallowed audibly, plowing on. "I went back today, and he - he said it's... I... Oh, Dem." His body was shaking, tears flowing down his face.

"How long?" My voice startled me. Hollow. How could it? I felt so much. The pressure in my heart was so much. I was going to explode, I knew it. My voice didn't, though.

"Weeks. A month, possibly, if treatment goes well." His eyes stayed planted on the table, tears collecting in a pool on the surface. We heard you scurry around in your room and froze until the noise faded. Your father looked up at me now. His eyes were shining, wet with tears. His skin was blotchy and sweaty. His pointed nose was running, but he didn't move to clean it. He stayed frozen, looking at me, waiting for my answer.

I didn't give him one, yet. I wanted to scream, to throw something. My thoughts were racing like my blood. A month? That's all I was given? What would I do without him? Why didn't they catch it earlier? How could this happen to me? What about Sora? Who would help him with his math work? I couldn't do fractions! How would we go on without him?

I opened my mouth. I felt tears run into it and swallowed, slightly suprised. I wiped away the tears that I didn't know were there. What could I say? "I love you."

Your father lunged across the table and collapsed ontop of me, sobbing heavily. His tears soaked my shirt. His hands clentched at my arms. His small body was heaving drastically. I could feel his harsh breath sprinkling my kneck with loose tears and spit. I wrapped my arms around him. "Oh, Demyx! I love you, too." He choked out, looking up at me. "Please, please don't leave me."

I pushed him away from me slightly, holding his shoulders in my hands. "Zexion! Leave you? Is that what you said?" He looked away from me, ashamed. I pulled him back, petting his hair. "Never." My voice wavered. I held back my tears as best as I could. I had to remain strong. My world was falling apart right in my arms. My life was being torn away from me.

I tilted his head up, examing his face for signs of understanding. Then, like I had dozens of times before, I kissed him. I couldn't look at his face while it looked so broken.

I wish I had known how much I would appreciate that face later on.

Terrible Things - Mayday Parade

A week later, your father was admitted to the hospital. We'd been cooking dinner, laughing at your young antics. Then, his laughter stopped. His face lost it's color. He'd hit the floor before I knew what was happening.

The next month and a half passed. I remember it like a movie someone has on fast-forward. I can see the nurses and doctors running in and out, checking his vitals, inserting needles and IVs, poking and prodding. I can hear words like "extract", "malignant" and "terminal". I can smell the clean smell of the hospital, the amonia of the cafeteria, the daunting, purely /dead/ smell of your fathers room.

There's one day I can remember perfectly. It was, by all other respects, beautiful outside. The sun was shining down brightly, the breeze blew in cool and fresh, and the grass was a rich green seen only in the middle of Spring. Inside your father's room though, it was quiet. The air was thick with dread, and the flourescent lights made your father's sallow skin all the more saddening. His eyes seemed sunken in, ringed in gray. His lips were almost white, and chapped. I could see his collar-bones from under his gown, and just knew that I could count his ribs if I tried. His heart monitor was beeping repetitivly in the background.

"Demyx..." He said.

"Yes, love?" I said.

"Come here." He said.

"Yes, love." I said.

I walked to his bed, sitting on the edge. He took up so little room I could have taken up more space, but I chose for him to have more. Just in case he made it through. Just in case he got a little more mass, something I could hold to the end of my days. "I'm ready to be done, Dem." He said quietly, his empty eyes searching mine. "Please... Can I be done?" Every breath he took looked like it was draining him. Like he was calculating exactly how much air each breath would take, and using that amount. No more, no less.

I felt my eyes well up and my heart clentch. "But, Zex, I can't do this without you!"

He sighed tiredly. "Do what?" He exhaled a ragged breath and coughed lightly.

"An-Anything." I stared at my hands for a moment before I looked at his empty face. "All of it."

"You're wrong." He told me simply. Like it was nothing. Like I'd used "perpetually" wrong, or I'd quoted Aristotle and gave claim to Einstein.

And, like that, the dam broke. Everything I was holding back burst forth in a rampage. "No!" I yelled, getting out of the bed. I stood in front of the bed, pacing back and forth. "No! Zexion! You don't understand! You - you're my everything! If you weren't here, I'd be nothing! A nobody! I'd be hollow, walking around like I was dead! I can't wake up and your face not be the first thing I see! I can't drive in our car, to our house and hold our son when you're not there! You give me a reason, Zex!" I fisted my hair and continued, much quieter. "You're my everything. You make me a somebody." I looked at him, pleading. "You're my heart."

He signed again and beconed me back to him. Once I sat, your father lifted a shaky hand before grasping mine and guiding it to his chest. He placed it over his heart and gave all the strength he could into squeezing my fingers. He smiled weakly. His heartbeat pounded beneath my fingertips, intense through what little flesh and bone there was left. "It's feels so strong, doesn't it?" His eyes locked with mine and he frowned. "It's because you're here."

"I'll always be here, Zex." I told him earnestly, searching his face. "When you're sick like this, through the treatments, when you get better. I'll be here."

"No, Demyx." He looked at me, his eyes trying to force me to understand what my heart was denying. "It feels strong because you are here." He applied slight pressure to our joined hands. He reached over and touched my chest. "Your's feels just as strong. Why?"

I didn't answer. The tears continued flowing freely. I wiped my nose on my sleeve and glared at the floor. "Demyx." I grudgingly looked at him again. He chuckled dryly, the noise sounding more like puffs of air than anything else. "Don't be like that, Dem. Answer my question, please. Why - " he coughed, arching off the hospital bed. I jumped up, leaning him forward and rubbing his back. He waved me away, and layed back once he'd regained himself. "Why does your heart feel like that, Demyx?"

"Because you're here." I told him quietly.

"And I always will be." A tear leaked out his eye and rolled down his pale face. "There can't be anymore treatments. There won't be anymore of me getting sick. And I'm not getting better. I know it's hard, and it's not fair. But, Dem," his voice shook with the effort he was exerting, "You can do all of it. Anything, everything. Because I'll always be there," he gestured to my chest, "just like you'll always be here." More pressure to our fingers. "Please, Love, please. I want to be done."

"I..." I leaned forward and pressed my forehead against his, letting our tears mix together. "I love you, Zexion."

"Forever?"

"Always."

"Demyx." I lifted my head and met his eyes. "Please don't be sad. If... if I had to pick any reason to stay, it would be you. You were," He smiled at me. The first true smile I'd seen since he'd told me he was sick. "You are the greatest thing to ever happen to me."

A new wave of tears hit me.

"And Demyx? Please... Promise... You won't forget me."

I brought his form up to me and held him close. His arms circled around me, small and thin. "Never. I won't ever forget you." I layed him down and presed a kiss to his lips, and our fingers interlocked one last time. "I love you. So much. Forever. Always."

He never said he loved me back. He never gave me a kiss in return. His fingers became slack in mine, and the heartbeat that had been so strong seconds ago was gone. The monitor in the background let out an ominous screech that would alert the surrounding nurses and doctors to what was going on. I sobbed heavily and touched my lips to his temples.

"I won't forget." I sighed shakily. "Never..."

Terrible Things - Mayday Parade

"So..." Demyx took a breath and stood from his bed. He pulled out the picture of Zexion and smiled at it before putting it back into it's frame. "Moral of the story? Don't fall in love. There's just to much to lose." 'Your life, your love, your sanity...' "If you have the choice, just walk away. I can't bear to watch your life crumble like mine did."

"You regret it?" Sora asked skeptically.

"Regret it?"

Did he regret it? Those laughs? Their first date, their kiss, the first time they made love, their wedding? No... The last date, though? The last kiss? The last time they held each other? Was it worth it?

'Promise... You won't forget me.'

"Never."