Blue. For a member of Organization XIII, this colour meant that they were alive. They existed.
But this plaque did not shine with the bright blue hue that it once had. Along with four others identical to it, this plaque glowed blood red. The names read 'The Chilly Academic', 'The Silent Hero', 'The Cloaked Schemer', 'The graceful Assassin', and 'The Savage Nymph' respectively.
In front of one of said graves sat a cloaked figure, with a head hung low. He was crying, as soft crystalline tears dribbled down his pale cheeks.
Gloved fingers clutched at the spot where his heart would have resided. His whimpers and cries mixed in with the shed tears. They fell from his bloodshot eyes, down tinged cheeks, collecting on the point of his chin before mixing into a pool of salty tears on the ground, at the base of the headstone. Pale lips shouted out in agony. As he cried, he cried for two people; the one who was lost, and the one that lost something of value. He sat there for several hours, with his head tilted, cries and trembles swimming together in the same pool of grief.
Several hours had passed, and a single silhouette stood behind the boy, sadness and pity swirling in one golden eye. The cloaked figure still hadn't moved from his slouching position by the blood red grave. The trembling had calmed, his cries softer. Tired of watching the broken boy wallow in his own pain, the elder walked up to the boy, boot heels clicking noisily on the stone floor.
When he reached the boy, the kid still hadn't so much as acknowledged the elder male's presence. He placed an unsure hand on the youth's shoulder, and the boy stiffened upon contact. Neither made a sound. The boy's head, turning ever so slowly, finally came to face the man. His teary eyes still captured in the shadow cast by the hood.
"He's gone, Dem. He won't come back. So stop cryin', alright? I bet it hurts him up there more than it hurts you." The elder explained quietly, kneeling next to the boy while rubbing circles in his back.
"I-I know, but it hurts!" The boy's strained and youthful voice replied.
"W-we're not supposed 'ta feel anything!" He whined. The elder wrapped his arms around the younger.
"We're not supposed to, Demyx, but some emotions are so strong that even a Nobody can feel them. I've felt pain before. And I know you've both felt pain, fear, and loneliness. Even empty's an emotion, you know…" The unsure voice trailed off and the man broke the hug, placing both gloved hands on the boy's shoulders.
"I know it hurts, but you gotta be strong." The elder swung Demyx's arm over his shoulder and stood up, dragging the younger up with him.
"Lean on me, kiddo," The man commanded, and Demyx obliged without hesitation. The short(er) elder grunted from the extra weight, but kept upright. Using his free hand, he summoned a black and purple oval. He stepped through it, and emerged into a bedroom. It was light blue with several accessories dotting the edges. They stepped over discarded boots and socks, making their way to a dark blue bed at the other end of the room. He slid the covers down and placed the silent nobody in the bed. Then he drew the covers back up to his chin, sitting next to him, and started rubbing his thumb over his cheek.
"Thank you, Xigbar," Demyx murmured, before falling into a dreamless sleep. There were still thin trails of tears on his cheeks, but the innocent expression he portrayed while asleep betrayed the fact that he had cried a river only moments ago.
"He'll be alright; I'll make sure of it." Xigbar mumbled delicately, standing up and pulled a chair over, sitting on it instead of the bed where the sleeping boy lay.
Far away in oblivion, or perhaps in Kingdom Hearts itself, a sullen male watched the two.
"I know, Xigbar, I know." He whispered through the wind, before darkness started to puncture holes in his body. With one last fading breath, he disappeared. Woven into oblivion.