Yeah, I shouldn't have written this. I need to work on other stuff. But someone mentioned stories about Demyx being half-in-love with Axel, and I've been wanting to write one, and then I got this and it wouldn't leave me alone, and well... here. I don't know what it is, but here.


Roxas had been gone for almost a week. It was the fifth day today.

One unsuccessful retrieval down; one death sentence to go.

It tore Axel to bits and pieces. And Demyx didn't know how to help him.

He had no illusions. He knew they didn't have hearts, didn't love or, really, even like. But Demyx knew that Axel was hopelessly something, knew that it was Roxas who had made him that way. He even thought Roxas might be the same, because of Axel (but he wasn't so sure about that). And he'd figured out that, whatever they were, was breaking Axel.

What was worse, Demyx now knew that that he was something, something like what Axel was. Because when he saw Axel, alone and lonely, he felt it. A deep, painfully resounding nothing in his chest, as if telling him, You can't feel this, but if you could, it would hurt. And it did hurt; it hurt like hell, like the last few moments of a battle when he was sure he was going to die and fade away. When he saw what not having Roxas did to Axel, he knew that the redhead was feeling, and hated that he had to feel that way.

It shouldn't hurt. It shouldn't ache. It shouldn't matter.

"Why do Somebodies cry, Demyx?" Axel asked him that morning.

Demyx had stared at him, then away, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know, Axel."

"Yeah... Me either." And he'd wandered away.

He knew Axel would be sent back tomorrow, knew there was no coming back for Roxas. Knew there would be no coming back for Axel, not really.


When he found him, Axel was sitting on a rooftop in some nondescript town. Eyes far away, knees held close to his chest- he looked so small. Demyx walked over, sat close enough for Axel to know he was there, but far enough away to let him think. Demyx wanted to hold him. It was a new impulse, one he wanted to indulge in. But he waited, knowing Axel would talk when he was ready.

He asked, hours later, it seemed, "How did you find me?"

"You like high places." Demyx replied after a moment, moving closer. "Whenever something happened, something bad, you always found someplace high. It was just a matter of finding the right place."

With a smirk that Demyx heard rather than saw, Axel asked, "So you've just been bouncing from world to world, looking for me?"

"It's what friends do."

Axel buried his face in his arms, shaking, trembling. Finally, he asked, "Why does it rain, Demyx?"

Traces of relief; he could answer this question. "Every cloud is filled with water. When it's filled beyond what it can carries, it starts to fall."

"I've been thinking," Axel murmured, "Maybe... maybe Somebodies are the same way. Maybe they carry sadness around with them until there's so much, they have to release it."

Demyx pressed his lips together, responding softly, "Maybe."

"But-" His voice broke, which frightened the other, but he continued, "I don't understand, if- if crying is just a way of relieving sadness, why can't we do it?"

There it was again, that nothing, that aching emptiness. It was all Demyx could do to just sit and watch the breaking and do nothing.

Silence passed between them, then Axel wondered, "Have you ever wanted to cry, Dem?"

"...Yeah."

Axel sighed, looked over the city, and didn't say anything. Demyx had to do something, but what could he? He couldn't give Axel feelings, or a heart, or tears- Wait.

He called his sitar, strummed once, twice, then played a soft arpeggio; light notes, one after another. Clouds gathered overhead, blocking the sun, grumbling tenderly. Demyx smiled in return, his fingers never still as he coaxed the storm into being. When the first drop fell, and the second and third, he saw Axel tip his head back to face them.

It wasn't the same thing. There was only one thing that would ever be what Axel wanted.

But this would do.


"Demyx."

He blinked back to life blearily, staring up at Axel. "Yeah?"

"Why did you look for me?" The redhead asked quietly, as if to avoid waking Demyx further.

Propping himself up on his elbows, Demyx answered, "Because I was worried about you."

Axel pressed again, kneeling next to the blonde's bed, "Why?"

"You're an idiot," Demyx muttered wryly, staring Axel straight in the eye. "If there's something I can do to help you, I'm going to do it."

Silence, confusion, then again, "But why?"

"Because I can't stand the idea of you hurting," Demyx replied. "Because I hurt when you hurt. And if playing you a rainstorm will lessen that hurt, I'll do it a thousand times."

"Demyx, I don't-" Again, his voice broke, his head fell, and he demanded, "You aren't making any sense!"

He was breaking and Demyx was breaking with him. He reached out took hold in the red spikes, pressed their heads together, and murmured, "What you feel about Roxas is the what I feel about you."

Axel tensed, then suddenly surged and wrapped his arms around the other, pulling him close, shaking, trembling. And finally, finally Demyx could hold him, feel him breathing-

Like he was sliding back into place, like he'd been gone and was back, was home.

"I'm sorry," Axel murmured, pulling back, collapsing on the ground. With a breathless laugh that bordered on hysterical, he added, "I didn't mean to just... I'm sorry."

Demyx rolled back into bed and replied, "Don't worry about it... Why now, though, it's like three in the morning?"

"Couldn't stop thinking," He answered, then almost sarcastically, "Thank you, by the way."

Laughing himself, Demyx responded, "For keeping you awake?"

"For the storm."