Author's Notes: W00t! 'Nother One-Shot. Because I am really bad at updating multi-fics... . This one's slightly different, but still a slightly obscure Zemyx, just... Zexi-centered
Dedication: No dedication this time. This was just a story randomly thought up at the top of my head last night, and this is what got spewed out. Though, if it had to be anyone, it would probably be Zume-Chan for being mah bestest best friend and reviewing all my stories n.n And for dedication a chapter of The Way You Fall to me :)
Suggested Listening? Yep.
Lighthouse - The Hush Sound
Wine Red - The Hush Sound
Protegé Moi - Placebo
Summary: In a single moment of weakness, Zexion finds a way out of that cold, numb feeling that haunts his body. The world around him dissolves, and only he is left. People come and go, but only Demyx manages to stay long enough to make a difference.
Warnings: Dilute shonen-ai (XD), which is guyXguy. No likey no looky. Also another one of those 'horrible' Zexi-cutting stories, tho it only says the word 'cut' in that context like... once. Slightly dark and can get confusing if you read it fast and skips loads of stuff. That's all.
Disclaimer: Flying werewolves may fall from the sky and shoot Tetsuya Nomura with a tennis racket and it wouldn't make a difference - me no owny Kingdom Heartsy
Just A Phase
Zexion's earliest memory should have been of himself and the others as apprentices; Xehanort, Braig, Dilan, Even, Aeleus and Ienzo. But it wasn't.
Zexion's earliest memory was of pain. Intense, unending pain, followed with - Nothing. Nothing except a dull, empty beat where his heart should have been. He had clutched his chest and said to himself; 'I feel... Nothing.'
The first few days after the Nothing first began, Zexion found the other apprentices, creating an Organization. Organization V, as it was. And then he joined, making the total number of members six; Organization VI.
The years after that were empty. There was nothing there to fill the void; to make him feel like he existed. And then Xemnas revealed it - they didn't exist.
Zexion panicked. He stormed into his room, desperate to feel something, anything. Memories brought about nothing, there was no longing for any of his hopes or dreams, no humiliation for what should have been shameful, no humour for what should have been funny. Something, something...
Pain.
Suffering and discomfort.
Something, something to break the ice...
In a sudden moment of weakness, he had smashed his window. There was a shard of glass in his hand. Most importantly, there was a long, deep gash running down his arm.
The first spasm of pain racked through his body, and he gasped. He clenched his eyes shut, gritting his teeth. Then he breath a deep sigh, his eyes open and shining with new determination.
He could feel. He could feel.
Pain.
Pain was bad, he was told. But now he could use this pain to his advantage. And each time he slid that glass across his body, he was whispering to himself, "Just a phase, just a phase..."
Feel.
An emotion or sensation.
He could feel something now, and nothing would stop him from doing it again.
A few years passed. The Organization steadily gained more members. Some came on their own, some came with others, all were found by the Organization. Slowly, the numbers swelled to nine.
Saïx, VII, Moonlight; Axel, VIII, Fire; Demyx, IX, Water.
Zexion paid no attention to who joined the Organization. There could be no one but himself, and he wouldn't notice. So trapped within his own euphoria was he that everything else slipped away.
They paid attention to him, though. Much more attention then what would be healthy. They watched how he grew thinner every day, how it seemed that he was always in his long, black coat, even when he needn't be.
The word 'they' would be a bit ambiguous. 'He' would be a better description. Or, to be even more specific; Demyx.
Zexion carried on his habit. The scars over his body accumulated. And still, he whispered, "Just a phase, just a phase..."
Phase.
A stage of psychological development.
It was just a phase, always a phase and nothing more.
Glances would be exchanged over the dining room table. The rest of the Organization noticed it now. Zexion had stopped returning for food, stopped attending the meetings. Something was wrong, wasn't it?
The few times he did turn up, they just passed it off as a thing of luck. But Demyx was curious. Why was it that Zexion had stopped returning, only showing up a few times every month? What was so important, that it made him overlook his food?
He studied Zexion more and more. And Zexion never noticed his curious glances, his questioning stares. Zexion never noticed the spell that he was slowly, carefully weaving over the blonde-haired sitarist. And neither did Demyx himself.
More arrived. They came and made themselves comfortable before Zexion realized they were there. But still, they didn't break his cycle.
"Just a phase, just a phase..."
Luxord, X, Time; Marluxia, XI, Flowers; Larxene, XII, Lightning.
He started to notice that he was wearing himself away. He began coming to meals more often, still rarely ever attending important meetings that Xemnas requested they come to. Still, he never noticed Demyx as nothing more than an annoying noise maker.
A few times, Zexion caught Demyx's curious glance, and the sitarist just had to wonder what he was thinking. Then Zexion would turn away, and the heat would rise on Demyx's cheeks.
Zexion's carvings had taken a new turn. They were still just as random, just as erratic, but whenever he looked at them, they moved around to form numbers, roman numerals. VI, X, VIII, IX, IX, IX...
Heart.
Center of thoughts and emotions.
He had found his heart again and no one was taking it away from him.
As Zexion 'phase' became less intense, less time-consuming, he began to realize things. He began to notice Demyx's stares that were now constant wherever he went. He began to notice the hollow thump in his chest as it returned, a reminder of what had driven him this far.
He couldn't help it anymore. He would always feel his stares at the back of his head, and he would turn to look. Demyx would turn away quickly, as if he had only just realized he had been staring. Only when Zexion turned back did Demyx resume his staring.
Demyx began to take his curiosity too far. He stalked the slate-haired boy down the corridors, into the library he frequented, to the door of his room where he slumped and walked off.
He found out nothing. Zexion had always been sure to cover his tracks carefully, and now was no exception, with stalker-Demyx on his tail. After a few days, he had made it look like there was nothing to find out. Like he was just as normal as any other Organization member.
Normal.
Usual, typical or expected.
He wasn't normal anymore; he had left normal behind.
It wasn't long before another one came. She was different, though, they figured that out soon enough. She knew nothing of her past, knew only that she could manipulate the memories of the keyblade master and those that were connected to him.
She was not brought in as a member of the Organization. They used her instead to try take control of Sora. They failed.
Naminé, no rank, Memories.
Demyx made good friends with Naminé, Zexion noticed. And though he knew it was irrational, his non-heart would beat with what would be jealousy.
And his cycle began again. He brought the glass up - "Just a phase, just a phase..."
It was all back to normal.
Manipulate.
Control or influence.
The floodgate on his 'emotions' was gone; everything was gone.
One more. One more of them came, and that was it. Organization XIII was now complete.
Roxas, XIII, Twilight.
Zexion came to the table less and less the longer Naminé was kept around. Demyx noticed, and he did not like it. He resorted to stalker qualities he had left behind when Zexion took up his usual spot at the table.
He snuck quietly along the dark hallways, searching for the door that would take him to Zexion's room. He knocked softly against it, waiting for an answer.
Zexion was not inside his room. He was in the library room, searching for a book in one of the higher shelves. But Demyx was not to know that. So they both were blissfully ignorant of the other person, just as it had been in the beginning.
Nothing.
Not anything; zero.
Nothing had changed, and nothing ever would.
It was only a matter of time when Demyx would find Zexion in the library. It was also a matter of time when Zexion would fall off the ladder that he had climbed to reach the higher levels. It was a matter of luck that both had coincided and Demyx had managed to catch a falling Zexion.
Face to face with what seemed to be the object of his 'affection', Demyx almost lost his nerve and dropped the slate-haired boy there and then. But, ever the courteous one, he let him down first.
Zexion almost huffed with discomfort. He picked up the book that had toppled to the floor, muttered a quick thank you to the blond and swept out of the room. He had no time to be loitering about; Vexen had said something about an experiment he wanted to try out.
As he was making his way to Vexen's lab, he realized the the scientist would not be there at the moment. He was out on a mission; one of the few that he ever got. So he changed direction and headed for his room instead.
There was nothing to stop him. "Just a phase..." It had lost all meaning, but also meant much more than it did before, all at the same time.
Slash. It repeated. Again and again.
Luck.
Outcome brought by chance.
It meant nothing to him, luck had nothing to do with anything.
Zexion was stupid. He wasn't careful. And because of that, Demyx found him. Curled up on his bed, staring at nothing in particular, he found him.
There was only one way to describe the way Demyx reacted. He exploded the moment he saw Zexion curled up like that, spasms of pain racking his body. He flew over, pulling Zexion up by his shoulders, and he yelled at him to tell him that it was all false - that nothing was real.
Zexion smiled at him, a blissful, uncaring smile. "I found my heart," he had said. "I found my heart. It was hidden inside yours."
Demyx froze, Zexion's words refusing to register. He stared at him instead. His black cloak was gone, discarded to the side, and he wore a pair of jeans and a plain black t-shirt. But everywhere he could see was the puckered pink scars of half-healed cuts and the still bleeding ones on his ankle. "What... What did you do to yourself?" Demyx asked, unbelieving of what he was seeing.
Zexion's smile did not falter. "It was just a phase. Always, just a phase..." He muttered. And then, all of a sudden, he snapped back to reality. He realized what was happening. He had been careless, and now Demyx knew. Soon, everyone would know.
He tried to get up and run, but Demyx held him back. He sat there and sushed him as Zexion panicked, trying to get away like a frightened kitten. Eventually, he calmed down enough for Demyx to wrestle some coherent sentences from him. Demyx's frown grew deeper as Zexion explained everything in an erratic tone - he could do no better.
Zexion made one last attempt to get away, but Demyx held him in an iron grip.
Demyx laughed. "Just a phase, eh?"
Zexion nodded. He expected the blond to leave then, to leave and never return to him, to tell everyone of why he would not turn up to meetings, turn up to eat. Demyx did not leave. He stayed beside him, keeping Zexion company.
"Why?" Zexion asked. It was the only thing he was truly curious about.
Demyx laughed. "I cannot love, but this is as close as I'm gonna get," he had replied, and left it at that.
Zexion turned back around, 'happy' with his answer. "Just a phase..." he muttered, one last time, before he drifted to sleep, Demyx's arms wrapped around him.
Trust.
Belief in reliability.
The one time he had been stupid enough to trust anyone...
Within a year, it was over. Whatever it had been between them slowly evaporated, until there was nothing there at all. Though neither of them could 'feel', it just 'felt' wrong.
Demyx went one way, Zexion went another. They never passed in the halls. They never caught each others glance. Zexion stopped coming to the table altogether, and Demyx found someone else to be with.
In the end, they returned to how they had been before they had crossed each others paths. And whenever they were within seeing or hearing distance of each other, it was how they acted. Zexion kept what he 'felt' inside, never let it colour his decisions.
Ultimately, nothing had changed.
Zexion was still the nervous wreak he had always been inside. The cycle continued once again. "Just a phase..."
It was more than just a phase, and he knew it.
Break.
Split into pieces.
...He had been broken.
Ending Notes: You have it. That's the end of Just A Phase... obviously.
One thing makes me happier than anything else when it comes to fanfiction - reviews. And, though I may be sounding little pushy here... Please review? -Puppy-dog-eyes-
Zexion: You fail at puppy dog eyes
Me: -Shoves- Oh, no one asked you :D