Hey, ItachiEnvy is my first fanfic,and as I said, was originally an English well ware that this is not how Demyx dies, I changed it because I thought itd be a little easier for my teacher to understand than him getting killed by a pre-pubesecent teenager with a key who runs around with Donald duck and enjoy!
Mors certa, hora incerta
Nobodies Can't Cry
(Zexion PoV)
Numb. That's all he could think the 'feeling' classified as. It had finally sunk in. Demyx was gone. Zexion sat deftly on his immaculate bed, trying to comprehend the aching pain in his hollow chest. He looked down at his black sheets. The covers that would never again be torn up from a smiling blonde jumping on it, waking up the shorter slate haired teen at all hours of the night. He internally fought with himself as his desire to mess the covers up grew, to try and fool the emptiness forming in his stomach, that it wasn't true. That he would never again feel the warmth Demyx provided.
Now, all he had left were the memories, as dead as the person starring in them. The thoughts flooding his normally analytical mind were deafening.
He couldn't take being in his room any longer. There were too many things to remind him of his lost friend. He had to get out. He started to walk blindly, anything to get his mind to stop thinking, remembering. Ignoring the apathetic others in the hallways, he let his feet carry him, not caring enough to pay attention where. He looked up when he had stopped his desperate strides in front of a door. The Room of Remembrance. A room used to remember those who shouldn't have existed in the first place. He walked in, locking the door behind him.
It took only a moment to find the plaque he was after; he had been here so many times. IX was all the polished black stone had engraved in its emotionless surface, right about the etching of a sitar. He sat down before it, staring intently as if that could bring back the blonde who had left with a part of him, a part he always thought he never had. A part he never thought he had wanted. Heh, he inferred morbidly, huddled in front of the desolate object that was now the only proof his friend had ever existed. So this is what it's like, to feel sadness. The emptiness it brought was…crushing, suffocating.
His mind started to wander, again. This time, it was back in the meeting room earlier that day, when Superior had told them all in an indifferent monotone that Demyx had been overwhelmed on his solo-mission. That was the first time he could ever remember not understanding something that was before him. He was…shaking. The Superior continued, reciting the details of his late friend's demise as if it meant nothing. To him, it probably didn't.
(Demyx PoV)
They… just keep coming! Demyx thought, panting as he attempted to stave off the multitudes of heartless that threatened to over run his slowly crumbling defenses. His hands were tired; he couldn't keep up with the never ending supply of enemies that were just waiting for him to slip up. One by one, his water clones began to dissapate around him. At this rate, he wouldn't last much longer. A wound in his side was starting to get the better of him. There was no time to portal. This... is my last option…I'm sorry, Zexion. He quickly steeled himself and summoned all his energy for one last, destructive burst of water, flooding the entire ruin. It worked. All the heartless were gone. Tugging a tired grin on his face, he collapsed onto his knees, already starting to fade away, entirely spent. I never got to say goodbye. He realized, eyes widening minutely, already beginning to fade into nothingness.
(Zexion PoV)
The shaking wouldn't stop. It's like his very soul was trembling from the gravity of this description, said by a man so uncaring. Again he tried to fool himself. He can't be dead! He was so full of life…
It triggered another past memory.
It was quiet and peaceful, the perfect time to get some reading done before it all shattered into disarray. Lying sideways in his favorite plush reading chair, Zexion summoned his lexicon and flipped to his bookmarked page, already lost in the huge tome. BANG! The library door was thrust open, hitting the door frame soundly.
Zexion smiled, slightly, as he reminicsed about the first time he had ever really talked to the blonde. That day had been fun, ending with Demyx pinning him to a couch and giving him a massage, after they had played Twister over 17 times in a row. The slim smile turned into a small smirk, as he remembered how the rest of the evening had played out. That was when he started to like the blond, seeing past the childishness and obnoxious persona the rest of the group all saw. He was the polar opposite from himself. The immediate friendship had been something he, even with his vast intelligence, still couldn't discern.
They had hung out again the next night, the blonde walking into the kitchen at 2am for a drink, himself from insomnia induced boredom. They ended up talking for hours about nothing and everything. The blonde hadn't been detered or intimidated like the rest. He provided the conversation, letting the more stoic teen add to it when he wanted to. Demyx had been the only one who could ever get Zexion to open up and actually talk without it seeming awkward or forced. Now, those days were gone forever.
He had transported off his high seat and went almost mechanically to the Room of Remembrance, yet again, before proceeding to his dark room.
As the memories slowed their painful cascade, he remembered all the other people who had blatantly called him heartless, cold, indifferent. Well, they`re right. He whispered into the cold stone, his forehead pressed against the numeral. Nobodies can't cry. He sat, his mind finally ceasing it torrent of now dead memories as a silent and solitary tear slid down his pale cheek from under his bangs as he stared forlornly at the last remembrance of the only person he'd ever cared about. If only this was an illusion, he murmered, his only tear falling. For the first time, he had felt as if he had had a heart. Now it was...breaking.
The tear dropped to the floor