Author's Note: Once in a while, I get an idea that freaks me out and entices me at the same time to write it, even when I burr Author's Note: Once in a while, I get an idea that freaks me out and entices me at the same time to write it, even when I burry it in the back of my head. Well, here it is, with my relatively new fandom. XD One of those incredibly sick plotbunnies that struck me one night during brainstorming and would not leave me alone, despite my numerous threats and heavy school assignments.
So, there it is, after a pretty short 'childbirth' of about...seven hours?
Broken down in two days XXD
Zexion is a truly fascinating character, yet the one I could mostly picture driven easily to insanity.
The latter is one of my biggest muses, however disturbing, but she and me have a close relationship...(smirks)
I'm sorry if I disturbed anyone with this You're welcome to flame me.

This is my very first Kingdom hearts fanfic, so please be critical XD And since I haven't played the game, I apologize if anyone is OOC or events are not completely correct.

My first and biggest favourite is 411/MarluxiaVexen coupling (expect more in the future), but 69/Zemyx is one I also adore C: Enormous thanks you to my darling Emmy (writename: xxcupidxstuntxx here) for her input and her wonderful fanfic '50 Words' as inspiration and…hell, for getting me into KH in the first place. XXD Love you, babe Disclaimer: Zexion, Demyx, Vexen, Ansem, Saix, and Xemnas belong to Squeenix/Disney. I'm just playing with them for my own sadistic purposes. Pairing: Zexion x Demyx Warning: Contains moderate blood/gore. swearing, violence, insanity and mentions of shonen ai (love between men). --

It was a question, he assumed, all of them had wondered about at least once.

When the livings whose souls are whole spend countless seconds inventing fanciful philosophies offering an explanation of where they came from, that particular trail of thought is immediately cut short for a newcomer in the World That Never was once they are clad in the uniformly black cloak, the hood pulling their faces and their questions in the shadows and at bay.

Of course, curiosity with all its feline grace and steely stubborn determination is always present in the new neophytes – especially the younger ones with strong beliefs, strings to humanity not yet severed.

But time, like always, always wore them down with its stainless steel sheen.

When one's existence is like one of a leaf caught in the violent autumn thunderstorms, tossed between branches and landscapes the wind takes fancy to, occasionally torn or completely shredded by obstacles, one learns not to question the intention behind the orders they receive.

And within time, it becomes a routine, doubt replaced by a sense of disinterest.

A Nobody's life was anything but stable.

And it was both easier to exist and cope living in a state of blissful denial and lack of knowledge.

However, among the blurred edges, there were a number of stable hinges in a Nobody's life.

Their mission and individual desires nursed with completing Kingdom Hearts in the near future, dreams that nudged their spirits into continuing their perilous journeys.

Their memories of who they used to be, strong surges of supposedly non-existent emotions, strands of events that linked them to their past and anchored the remains of their humanity close to them.

And the ever-present question of what would happen to them once – no, not once, if - they die.

It was a taboo they had never enjoyed talking about, and if the matter somehow did get dragged up, they would hastily drop it, like a morphine-glazed dagger, afraid to give into the temptation to slice through their skin and taste the nectar of the forbidden.

Because however curious they all were of what would happen to them once the fatal blow was delivered, they also equally dreaded the consequences that would come seconds after the new-found discovery.

Death.

However many books he had read on the nature, however cynicism he always employed when discussing the subject, however many experiments he had assisted Vexen (and previously Ansem) with based on the matter, Zexion's idea of the topic was still not as clear as he desired it to be.

As if cast in a smoky shell, clouded by its uniqueness one could never replicate in life to study – only its hungry, all-consuming eyes glimpsing out of its hideout with vicious possessiveness.

He had no doubt that death would be very different to those in the Organization.

But the schemer assumed that like to all those leading temporary existences, it would bring them peace too.

"You think too much, Zexy." A comforting voice murmured, hands wounding around his waist, a simple display of affection, gentle but persistent persuasion to stop burdening his tired mind with more information and join the intruder in sharing a well-deserved night of rest.

"There's more to-"

"It can wait. Books don't need sleep. But you, although highly above the rest of us commoners, are made of organic material, and therefore require sufficient sleep."

"…" a blink of utter disbelief. "What encyclopedia have you just swallowed, Demyx?"

"…I'm reading over your shoulder…" the nocturne admitted sheepishly, gloved finger pointing to a thick, yellowed book next to the schemer's elbow.

Rolling his eyes, the slate-haired male pushed his thick rimmed glasses higher up his nose, trying to ignore the soft nuzzle to the side of his cheek. "I've been up for a long time before."

"And didn't manage to get out of bed for three days straight." The brunette finished the sentence, kissing his cheek. "We'll find out eventually, right?"

"…but then…it won't matter, will it?" Zexion murmured after a while, thumb absentmindedly leafing through the remainder of the book he had been reading.

"Of course it will." The nocturne replied, gently but firmly plucking the book from the other's hands and setting it down on the table. "Whatever it is, it will bring us peace and rest, won't it?"

"…I suppose…" he admitted after a few minutes of internal debate, earning a triumphant grin from the brunette behind him.

"There you go! Mystery solved, now come and sleep, Zexy."

"…honestly, how many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?"

"I promise I'll stop if you come now."

"And blackmailing me too!"

"One request at a time, Zexy!"

"Get back here!"

Sweet, sweet denial.

Sugared belief, just like ones fed to the child in a silver spoon to soothe their fears of surrendering to sleep.

They aged, drifted from previous life to the next.

But fairy stories and lies with good intentions are not only for toddlers.

"…you?" he chocked out, hands raised in a defensive stance, his whole being frozen at the revelation of the attacker, features still hidden by the thick shadows cast by the high arcs of the pillars.

The architecture was perfect for anyone with dark intentions to hide in the shadows, unnoticed – as was the whole operation of Castle Oblivion.

Perfect for someone inside the Organization to wound their way into, carrying the seeds of rebellion and infiltration deep in the heart of the system, and sewing death among the ones whose shoulders the plan was supported on.

Himself very much included on the guest list, the silky red ribbon tightening around his throat with clipped precision, making his shaking figure all the more appealing to present to the saliva-drenched jaws of the predator.

White teeth flashed in the low light, the only evidence of the sly smirk that covered his attacker's face. The smugness radiating through the darkness, gloved hand raised forwards, thumb poised on the middle finger, ready to send the schemer's body into his burning end.

Blue eyes behind slate locks widened. Nerves screaming for his own hands to move, for him to summon his weapon, to cast an illusion.

To scream, to shout, to plead.

To do something. Anything.

Anything to prolong the moment of introduction to the hungry smirk of the Grim Reaper he encountered in his nightmares.

The cold, cruel whisper murmuring in his ear, the bony hand clutching at the empty space inside his chest.

We meet yet again, little one.

No. Please no.

"I've been waiting for you, Ienzo."

The events that followed were blurred, unfolding in the depths of his inner eye like a roll of film, the warning edge of pain's fangs nicking at his conscience before his body caught up with the events.

Slamming into his chest with the ferocity of an avalanche, he fought back his scream as the liquid fire erupted inside him, spreading further within seconds, ensnaring and devouring his senses.

Dropping down on his knees, hands clutched in his hair, dignity and pride too incinerated in the inner inferno. His pained scream of disbelief mixed with his attacker's low laugh of pure amusement, his own ears not recognizing his own voice, blocked out by the roar of the flames devouring him.

Breathing hard, the agonised sounds slowly died down to dampened, pained whimpers as the burning figure curled up, eyes rolling to the back of his head, a single thought flashing through his frayed mind before darkness overtook him.

Whatever I encounter next…whatever happens now…it can't be worse then dying.

Sugared lies.

Belief shattered.

For you, little one, faith did not even allow the rest in death.

For a short time, he had began to believe what he had assumed was true. The darkness was calm, still, almost soothing. Like a caring mother soothing a fevered child, it caressed his weary mind, drawing sorrows into non-existence.

Then, suddenly, the soft hands and the manicured nails sprouted into razor-sharp talons, sinking into his relaxed mind with vicious hunger.

Pain tearing at the new wounds yet again, his voice to hoarse, soul to weary to even manage a whimper of protest.

He flinched at the breath on his cheek, reeking of rotting sins and mistakes, fangs glistening with a red sheen that was no doubt his own blood.

"Fragile." It whispered with malice. "You do not simply break, you shatter. Oh, oh, oh so fascinating." A rough tongue flickered over his cheek with such hunger and ferocity the schemer was sure it a few layers of skin were peeled off in the process. "We're going to get along so well. I can just see."

Before he could question what the other was implying, those claws were sinking in his back, pushing him off the stable stand and sending him hurtling in the swirling unknown below, its harpy-like shrieks drowning his own screeches.

"Number Six?"

Forehead creased with effort before azure eyes, clouded with medication and the aftermath of the events, fluttered open.

Zexion's frown, irritated by the absence of the soothing darkness and the unnecessary presence of painful light, deepened when the fuzzy outline of the male before him. Gaze lingered on the deep cobalt hair, the piercing amber eyes and the strange scar running between his eyes, blinking.

He felt a strange sensation in his throat, as if the smirking monster who threw him back to consciousness was nestling itself deeper within him, razor tail swishing with lush satisfaction.

His gaze shifted back to the other when he heard a polite cough.

A scrape of nails and a hungry purr.

Feed me, pet. I'm hungry. This should do perfectly.

A strange sense of giddiness erupted in him, causing his bruised lips to pull into a smirk, the movement alien to his muscles. Hands clenched in the sheets, as if trying their strength, nails scraping across the cotton blanket.

He felt as if with the flames, his eyes too have been burnt over with some sort of strange filter, causing his vision of the world to change drastically.

The black and whites melted down into an enormous puddle of grey, streaked with the flamboyant red stains of bloodied sins.

He ha absolutely no idea of where he was, or who the other male was and what he wanted. His lips might have been moving, but his smooth words meant nothing to the schemer.

Zexion…

The other seemed to be repeating that word quite often…accompanied by the phrase 'Number Six'…

Meaningless labels, who they were addressed to was not his concern.

His sole concern was to devour and destroy, and to satisfy the purring, hungry, wanton mistress inside him, who was urging him to feed her sickening desires, to indulge her in sin and fulfil his own bottled-up desires.

Because if the world was burning, it was only fair the schemer tried to quench the hungry flames and feed their passions with the brilliant, crimson vial of life itself.

The shock plastered over the bluenette's face alone was enough to make him laugh, voice hollow and tainted with malice, only getting louder and more satisfied as nails sunk into flesh, delicate, spongy tissue tore under his touch, and the shrill scream of pure agony as the other tried to desperately shake him off.

However, his movements were full of control and hesitating, as if he was afraid to hurt the schemer, which made him snort.

Why would he be concerned about someone he just met?

The other's idiocy suited him just fine.

Lips dripping with blood, talons stained with torn innocence, she growled in animalistic pleasure, wrapping her tail around his boneless, slim figure.

"Well done, pet…" she cooed, her thick scent, laced with blood tickling his sensitive nostrils. "See? I told you…we are going to get along just fine."

With a smirk he has grown accustomed to by now, he leaned into her touch obediently.

"Yes…" he whispered. "Yes."

Footsteps softly echoed through the hushed stone corridor, the sturdy soles of the boots struggling to keep any form of noise down to a minimum. The aura of breaking a firm rule hung around him, nervousness evident in his eyes and jerky movements.

Like a child forbidden to visit the one he held close to his naïve heart by his worried parents, sneaking out in the middle of the night for a forbidden encounter.

A gloved hand pushed the heavy oak door open, swallowing before slipping inside.

The moon shone through the barred window, lighting the stone floor in bleached stripes, bony, ivory sheen glistening like precisely arranged funeral props.

The only indicator that there was another person in the room was the heavy breathing from the shadowed corner, accompanied by occasional dark chuckles and soft rattles of metal.

Demyx's hands trembled as he shut the door, taking a hesitating step forwards. All warnings rang in his ear, Xemnas' voice firm and shaking with suppressed anger. The image of Saix's mutilated face after the schemer had attacked him…

It can't be.

"…Zexion?" his timid, almost petrified voice, drenched with foolish hope, rang out in the silence, adrenalin bitter on his tongue.

The breathing hitched in the darkness before a soft, irritated growl soon following.

"…why does everyone…keep calling me that?" it whispered, metallic chinks accompanying his words, indicating an attempt a movement. "It's getting really irritating."

The nocturne's mouth went dry at the utter sadism and maliciousness that radiated off his lover's voice, making him sound completely alien.

Cautiously, he approached the corner, startled cyan meeting fractious azure.

"…Zexion?" he whispered again, voice cracking at the sight of the thick chains, padded with leather, clipped tightly around the schemer's lithe body, hands securely bound behind his back, a thick collar fastened around his neck.

Like some wild, untameable beast that needed to be restrained for everyone's safety, including the brainless brute's.

But what broke his composure were Zexion's eyes.

Cold.

Hard.

Empty.

Like a frozen diamond, not a single flicker of recognition running across its icy perfection at the water mage.

A snort was the sole reaction from the slate-haired boy, lips pulled in a maniacal grin. "You're like a bunch of parrots. Zexion this, Zexion that. Number Six. Schemer." He rattled off the various names he was once known by, voice reeking of contempt. The chain on his ankles slithered as he moved his feet, shaking his head. "When will it get through your thick skulls them I am not one of you pathetically cowering bastards?" The mere thought alone disgusted him, the monster in his chest spitting and hissing in contempt.

Cocking his head so his matted slate locks weren't hanging over his eyes, the bound male finally took note of the other's queer behaviour.

Those who bothered 'visiting' him always seemed to have a clear and rather loud purpose.

"Have you come to stuff food down my throat?" he shot the question at the trembling nocturne, whose frame slowly sunk to his knees.

The oiled croon of the inner demon reassured him.

Calm down, he seems rather meek. Besides, who are we to deny prey who offers himself freely?

Zexion's annoyance faded into a frown as the other crawled closer, eyes glistening with silent tears, the cyan orbs glazed over with unsaid heart-wrenching pain.

His confusion only grew when a pair of arms wrapped around him tightly, a face buried in his shoulder. Moistness seeped through his thin shirt as the other trembled, grip tightening to the point the other was finding it hard to breathe.

"What are you doing?" he squirmed, snarling a little when the brunette just clung tighter. "Who the hell are you?!"

The shaking worsened, as did the damp feeling on his shoulder.

"…you can't have…you can't have…" the nocturne wept in a cracked voice, eyes searching the other's burnt-out orbs - and collapsing back onto a trembling heap when he found nothing but steely insanity, the realization hitting him hard and leaving him shattered, clinging at the restrained form of Zexion in desperation.

His empty shell.

The reminder of the reason he had to wait until he regained his heart and could love him with his entire being.

The cruel smirk of fate, reminding him that fairy stories were just a glossy cover to lure you in a false sense of security, one that was shattered in seconds.

And perhaps the cruellest proof Demyx ever needed to reassure him he did have a heart – one he now carried in pieces.

His howl of pain rose louder, mingling with the cruel and stark amusement drew from the chained figure, the flash of his canines reflecting the pearly traces of the nocturne's tears. And as his fingers clenched, attempting to hold what remained of the schemer intact, a broken whispered promise that never reached the other's ears was made.

I will fix what needs to be fixed, Zexion…I will make you come back.

This might grow itself out into a small series C: So please tell me what you thought of it! :D And thanks for reading!