Through the Dark Side of the Moon was a story that I had made up one day as I was cleaning. As I was in the closet, I was looking through all of my old memories that had been packed away. My mother was always spiritual and many people thought that my mother was strange and maybe even a witch. True story, bro. I always thought that it was funny. As I kept looking, I found many drawings from my past of water and this beach that I wanted to live near. Sadly, I live in a state nowhere near water expect for the pond in the farmland nextdoor. Then a picture came to mind of Demyx with a woman's hand resting lovingly on his shoulder. As that picture came to mind, I ran into my room and started jotting down everything that came to mind. Thus, a new story was born.
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Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts or any of its characters.
Chapter one: I Feel There's Nothing I Can Do
Some people would say that I was born for the public eye, that I had to be on the front cover of every magazine. Some would say that I was going to grow up and become a world renown actor, just like my father. Some would say that I have the face for television and that people are naturally attracted to me, as if I were magnetic. Some would say they disagree and I didn't have a bit of talent in me. There are the times where I agree with the last set of people, but I continued to move forward with my acting career, or what I am doing to make it. Flashing cameras. Top celebs. Fortune. Fame. Everything that you could dream of can be yours once you're famous, that was something that my father would always tell me.
Nevertheless, it wasn't the fame or fortune for me, though. I liked to be in the limelight. Actually, I adored it. I was sure hoping that it adored me as well. Being in front of a million people while performing at my best was as if I was on top of the world. When being blinded by the lights, I felt an unusual high. I was valuable. No faces could be seen in my audience as I put on a new face. My heart would be beating loud in my ears as I remembered the next line in my script. It was an unknown paradise that many do not have the privilege to undergo.
I was turning eight when I was allowed to start taking acting lessons. My father had always wanted me to learn under him, but my mother said that he needed to work and that I should be with children my own age. That was not the reason why. There was no need to correct her though, feeling grateful to be away from him. I changed schools quite frequently because they kept telling my parents that I was much more advanced than most of the other students, in acting that is. In other schoolwork that we still had to do, I was lower than average. It was not the best, but it pushed me to try harder.
Finally, after about a year of moving from school-to-school, I had been accepted into a world-renowned arts academy that only the best were able to attend. The academy had artists, actors, dancers, directors, designers, models, musicians, media majors, architects, and photographers who came from all over to attend. Once you're part of the best, it was really easy to screw up.
There was one time when I messed up in front of the cast and crew. It was only once that I messed up so everyone was shocked at my mistake. I felt embarrassed, ashamed even.
I was onstage rehearsing when I couldn't pronounce one word correctly. It was one of those words that if you say it too fast without thinking, you could mess it up. Then if you think too hard about the word, you'll end up stuttering it all out. Sometimes you wanted to delete them permanently from the English dictionary. I was almost thirteen and I was having trouble pronouncing one word. It made me feel embarrassed and I was pretty sure that my drama teacher wasn't having such a great time either. Ever single time I would try to say my lines, the word would ruin it, causing me to stop in mid-sentence and freeze upon realization of my mistake. I didn't know what I could do to make everything better.
Well, after I screwed it up for the ninth time, my mother came up to me and took me backstage. Her warm hand was placed on my check as she crouched to be eye level with me. She was always trying to help me with my abilities. She was different from many other people in the world; we understood each other even though no one could- or even tried to- understand us.
My mother, I look more like her than I do my father. Her body was thin, not much muscle on her besides the ones that are used to keep herself afloat in the water. She had long dirty blond hair that was always in waves, almost as if it was a current in water. Her eyes were an outstandingly beautiful blue that reminded me of the ocean on a sunny day. They glistened. Her skin was pale with a slight hue of pink upon her high cheekbones. The lips on her were full and always a dazzling shade of pink.
Once we were backstage, she crooked her head to the side, what she always did when she was worried. Her voice was the sound of a harp composition as she spoke to me, "I know that you think that making mistakes is the worse thing to do in your position, but… I want you to know that everybody makes mistakes. It's not about making the mistake; it's about how to deal with it once it has happened." She smiled at me; her eyes sparkled in the lighting backstage. "You see, Dem. The audience will never know if you make a mistake as long as you can act it out."
After that, I never made a mistake again.
My drama teacher was amazed that I could get through a tough situation and made it look easy. He once had to call both of my parents in for a conference over the whole ordeal. I had to sit in the middle of my mother and my father while they discussed my future.
I, of course, had no part in the discussion at all.
My drama teacher was a tall male who always needed things to be his way. His hair was a dark chocolate brown that was usually covered with some type of hat. It would usually change everyday but usually the color was black. He called wearing black clothes his artistic touch. His eyes were a sea green, almost blue even, that would scan the sets like radars on production day. Then, the one thing about him that set him apart from all the other drama teachers that I have encountered before I attended this academy, was that he would wear these thick-rimed square glasses that were the oddest shade of green. Usually it would never match was he was wearing but at the same time fit in with the style. He was, to say the least, a very interesting person.
He was sitting down at one of the tables that were backstage, his fingers entangled with themselves while he waited for us to sit in the three empty chairs on the other end of the table across from him. Once we sat down, he introduced himself. "Hello, I am your son's drama teacher, Mr. Stan."
My mother smiled, "Hello, I'm Demyx's mother, Catharine Melodious. It's a pleasure to finally meet you." Mr. Stan gave my mother a pleasant look that he gave to few of the parents of his other students. A rarity, some would call it.
"Hello Sir," Next was my father who nodded to Mr. Stan, his wide trademark smile stretched across his face. Distinguishably, a hand was outstretched between the two. "My name's Greg Melodious. I'm sure that you know who I am. I'm sorry that we couldn't have met before this, I know that you have tried several times to get in touch with both of us."
My father had short brown hair that was straightened by his personal hairstylist and was fixed so you could just be able to see it under his fedora type hat that he would wear. Strong, well toned, and tall; his eyes could see over my mother's head. His eyes were like my mother's, only a little less vivid, and his skin was a smooth fake tan that was much different from the rest of our family. It made him practically an outsider when we would have to go out as a family. His smile was prefect, straight teeth that were white as pearls. He's a star; he has to look his best.
Mr. Stan nodded while smiling, his hand taking my father's and giving it a firm shake before releasing. "It's very nice to finally meet both of you. I am pretty sure that both of you know why I called for a meeting. I wanted you here to talk about your son's outstanding talent." He crossed his hands across his chest, giving us a charming smile that you would rarely witness in a man in his department. "He could grow up to be very famous, you know."
For three whole hours I had to sit on that uncomfortable metal chair, listening to Mr. Stan tell my parents how well I am with my gift. During that time I did every possible thing that I could to not listen. I felt neglected as they decided my future for me. I was not even certain that my father was even listening to half the things that were said. There was a large possibility that he was checking himself out in one of the many mirrors that were stacked up in the room.
Once we were finished, my father left to go back to his work while my mother took me out for some ice cream. It was one thing that we liked to do when my father was at his work. We would pick up two large cartons of our favorite flavors and take them back to our house, where we would sit in the sunroom watching the sunset. It took my breath away, sometimes even making me lose grip on the spoon as we sat there. She knew that my father would not enjoy an evening at home with the family, unless there was photographer hiding in the bushes.
Our house was close to the ocean. So close to the water that I could wake up one morning and listen to the waves crash onshore. It was a peaceful aura. Very Striking. Not many people would travel down to the beach because they would rather see a famous movie star than the beautiful sight. Makes me sick, even.
I would walk down to the kitchen of our house in the mornings to be greeted by my mother smiling, having a meal laid out at the table for my younger sister, Naminé, and also for me. She would sit on a stool at the counter, talking to us while we ate. She would ask about school and so many other things. There was always something that we could chat about over breakfast.
Then there were some times where my mother would take me and Naminé shopping together. She would have a hold of both Naminé's hand and mine as we would try to avoid the thousands of flashing lights from the paparazzi. "Living the lives of the rich and famous was no walk in the park. You couldn't make it two inches without them swarming around you like bees.
Our mother would take Naminé around the stores to find new clothes, while I would just tag along, not wanting to be left alone in an empty house. I really didn't mind for shopping as much as other things, but people were there. That was all that really mattered to me.
Naminé's three years younger than I am, but still very talented. She's an artist at heart and attends the same arts academy as I do to enrich her abilities. She has long blond hair that she would usually hide underneath a black baseball cap when she would go out on her own. When she would stroll around the town with us, she would where it loose, having her bangs moved to the side so people could see her eyes that matched our families genetics.
Unlike me, Naminé liked to be alone. Whenever my mother and I would leave to go somewhere, Naminé would either decline our offer to join, or agree to come but stay in her own space. Some of the time, she was very hard to read. You never know what she's thinking because she lives in her own isolated world.
My mother had once said that it was because Naminé was more like our father, oblivious to the others around him. What she said to me one day when we traveled down to the beach startled me.
She was looking down at her feet that were covered in sand, her hair blowing against her skin in the cool breeze, "Dem, your father has already hit the bottom of the ocean. It's been this way for a very long time now. He's been sinking under the water, not really understanding or caring what is above the surface. He's lost his way and cannot find his way to the surface, I'm afraid."
I nodded; I understood that my father was very oblivious to many things. Sometimes I don't even think he realizes that we exist in his life. Maybe that's why Naminé and I have mother. She would never leave us; never abandon us like he has done.
She continued on, grabbing a hold of my hand was we walked together towards the water. "Naminé, however, is just beginning to sink. Some things that she is able to see are just foggy because she's losing her way. She still has a light, but it's only faded a little. I never lose hope, though. One day, something will happen, and she will finally resurface. I just know she will."
"Of course, mum." After that, we sat at the edge of the water, getting wet every now and then when the tide would come in, listening to the sound of water. No one would speak, but we could understand. We were on the surface.
We would visit the beach regularly. It was a chance to leave the house and live our secret lives, where there were no jobs, nothing to work at, no fame, no fortune, but equality.
"We are all equals in this world, and some just have a pretty dazzling face and a very baffling intelligence."
I couldn't help but think of my father when she said that.
One afternoon, I was in my room. We were on summer vacation and I hadn't applied for an acting program yet so I was just watching the rainfall outside my window. Pitter Patter, pit pat. A continuous cycle of nature that would grow rapidly or slow to a halt. It was hard to see that this same substance was the same thing that made up the ocean.
My mother poked her head around the doorway of my room, "Dem, you want to walk down to the beach with me? We could walk on the pier for a bit."
I sat up quickly, eyeing to see if she was serious. My mother, she was an easy one to read. She was so open with her feelings that it shown in her eyes. Yes, to my amazement, she was being serious about the beach. "But Mum, I thought that it was dangerous to go out during a storm. Especially the pier."
A smile formed across her face, "Honey, I won't let anything happen to you. I promise." She reached out her hand to me, a hopeful look in her eyes. I took her hand and we walked out of my room, then eventually out of my house.
I'm not worried about what could happen to me as much as what could happen to you, Mum.
The pier scared me, not just when I was a kid but also when I grew older. The water seemed different from the water from the shore, always dark and rough as it clashed against the wooden pillars beneath the wharf. The pier was located in a small isolated bay my mother had taken me to many times. The bay was very large and held many ships for fishing and cargo. Bungalows were located off the shore, the boardwalk ending before reaching the shacks. The woods surrounded the land around the bay; it was always so green and lush. In the fall and winter, it felt like the world was withering away as the leaves fell.
One summer day, when I was ten or so, my mother took me down to the pier. Naminé was invited, but she said that she had a summer project to finish. So we walked together, her hand clutching a hold of mine tightly.
Her hair was shorter then, about to the middle of her neck. The waves still free as they always were, a headband to pull back strands of loose hair from her heart shaped face. She waved to a captain who was ready to go fishing out in the bay. "You should always go in groups while walking along the pier. Two to three's the safest route. Never walk along the edge. Always hold hands. Watch your step. The pier's just not safe."
"That's why I have you here." I muttered as I looked out to the horizon. Clear blue skies again that day. It made it seem like a storm was fiction. "You keep me safe."
Laughing, for her, was like bells chiming in the wind. Her laugh was amazing. "Dem… You're doing the same thing for me."
We continued our walk until we got to the bungalows that were located for the fishermen's convenience. They were used so that the fishermen could clean their catches for the day and store them. If we got too close to them, the smell would make me sick.
"How has the academy been?" We were sitting on the large rocks, looking out towards the bay. It was a good ten feet down from the water where we sat near the edge of the cliff. "I mean, do you like it?"
I nodded, "Yes, I love it. It's amazing and the people there are great. The teachers really seem to love me." I drew random figures in the dirt while telling her, then erased them before immediately beginning another figure. "If I want to grow up like dad then I should continue with acting, right?"
My mother stayed still, staring down at the water, smooth as glass. She was unresponsive, it was scary for me. I thought that I said something wrong.
I reached out to touch her shoulder, "Mum?"
When she turned back around, silent tears had formed in her eyes. She reminded me of the sky and her tears were the rain. She made no sound when the tear began but when they fell; there was a soft Pitter Patter of the water. She wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into a great hug.
What I didn't know back then was that the teachers loved me only because of who my father was. The people treated me great because of it too. The look right through my being, not comprehending any of it. Besides all of that, my mother didn't want to see me like my father is, sinking until there's no light to guide you back to the surface.
After a few minutes, she let go of our embrace. I wiped the tears from her eyes and she smiled down at me. "You can be anything that you want to be, Dem. I never want you to change your path because someone else wants you to. You have a choice. It's your decision. Whatever makes you happy, my little Dem."
I clutched onto her as if it would be the last words that she would ever tell me. One of those moments that would go on forever.
This time wasn't anything like that. Not at all.
We held hands as we walked across the pier. The sky was a charcoal gray, causing a shadow to cast over everything in sight. The rain came down in quick, small drops. Pitter Patter, pit pat. The rhythm continued until we reached to the other side of the pier where the bungalows were located. The pace of the droplets slowed down as we perched ourselves on top of the rocks near the edge of the cliff.
No one spoke, only watched as the tides began to calm and the storm settled into nothing more than a breeze. Time was spiraling down. It was like someone speed my life up, fast-forwarding it. Everything was beyond my control even though I tired reaching out to clutch onto everything important to me so I could stay in the present.
My mother turned to me, wetness in her eyes. They were silent but could easily be mistaken for the rain of the storm. A small smile formed on her rosy lips. I didn't recognize the smile; she never smiled that way before. It was a smile of forgiveness, I learned. I didn't know why she was acting this way all of a sudden.
How was I supposed to know that this was our last goodbye?
A week after the storm, I woke up to a light drizzle. Pitter Patter, pit pat. The rain droplets ran in patterns of their own on my window. Something unique that you cannot make from art or describe in poetry. You can try but it will never be like the real thing.
Soon, I decided to get up, get dressed, and head down stairs to the kitchen. When I turned the corner, I was met with empty air. Naminé walked in shortly after I did.
Her eyebrows came together in confusion. "Where's mom?"
She was only ten, I was thirteen, and I had an idea of what could have happened. Something was seriously wrong. Crouching down, I held onto both of Naminé's hands and rested my head on her shoulder. Then, the silent tears began to fall.
Naminé was staring at me, wide eyed. She was a smart girl for a kid her age and she could read people just like mother could. She held onto my hands, squeezing them. "Can you… Call Uncle Cid."
Uncle Cid was a man that was our mother's brother. We didn't know much about him but I knew about his daughter, Rikku. Uncle Cid visited many times so that him and mother could chat, then me and Rikku would walk down to the beach and talk.
I nodded to my sister, still holding onto one of her hands. I found the number in my mother's address book that she kept next to the phone and dialed their number. It rang once. Then twice. A third time also. On the fourth, a young voice was heard. "Hello?"
"Rikku, I need to ask you to do something for me."
Rikku and her father arrived about ten to fifteen minutes later. Her blond hair was pulled back from her face to show the same blue eyes that the family all had. Her usual cheerful expression was replaced with a worried appearance.
I hung onto her tightly in a deathly embrace. Tears were streaming like icicles down both of our faces. Once I let go, we waved back at Cid who was trying to comfort Naminé and left the house in a hurry. We had to make our way quickly to the pier.
As we ran down the large grassy hill before reaching the bay, we came to realize that the ground was still wet from the rain at dawn. Dew covered the green blades of grass making it even more difficult to run around than it usually was. Slipping and sliding the whole way around, we plunged into the darkness of the woods.
I held onto Rikku's hand firmly so she wouldn't get lost in this unfamiliar territory. I led the way through the twists and turns even though you could barely see a foot in front of your face. Many tourists have gotten lost in the woods, we heard all about it since we lived so close to the ocean.
We came darting out of the woods to find an ambulance stopped by the pier. There was also a group of people who must have found the body earlier; they were talking to the police. Then there was the body of the swimmer that could be seen from the edge of the woods clearly.
"Mum…"
After her death, I was called to my father for a family meeting. That's something I really need, my father to say that it was just something that was going to cause the paparazzi to go crazy. I hated those lectures from him.
He was sitting at the dining room table with Naminé, he seemed distracted. The moment he saw me come in, he tried to act as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened with a calm smile planted across his face. As my mother had said, he lived deep underwater.
"Demyx, I wanted to address something with you. Something that cannot be put aside any longer." His voice was very proper, probably getting into a role for one of his characters in a movie he's doing. "I know that it's very hard on you since your mother died around a month ago-"
"She died three weeks ago actually." It was just like him, missing every detail that he could. He didn't even care if everyone around him was dying, as long as he could sit and watch his face on television. That's all that mattered. Family didn't mean anything to him but good publicity.
He sighed, pulling his fedora more towards the front. Now is when I begin to realize that he has been wearing a very feminine hat and he's worried about the paparazzi and our family? Get a new look! Maybe a clue while you're at it!
"Demyx, all I wanted to do was ask you if you wanted to live with someone else. You don't seem happy here-"
"I wonder why…"
"I care about how you feel, Dem. I've always been here for you, supporting you and your future career as an actor. Helping you follow in my footsteps, to be just like me. Don't think that I'm as uncaring as the tabloids make me seem!" He got up from his chair to have a height advantage. I was thirteen, he was what? Thirty something trying to seem twenty? He's such a sick little-
"You never cared about me, you never cared about our family, and do you even realize that you've been shoving me and Nam to the side ever since we were born? You don't care what we do, you would rather see us dead than on the tabloids for something stupid! When you want to do something for the family you end up setting it up like a photo shoot! We can't do anything without the- the paparazzi following three feet behind us, because you invite them! You invite them every single time! You don't care!" Tears were filling my eyes; my vision was slowly fading away. I was way too close to hyperventilation for my own good.
"Hey! Don't talk to me like that!" In anger, he moved closer to me, making me back slowly away from him. He pointed his finger was my chest as his voice lowered, "You do not talk to me, your own father, in that tone of voice. I deserve better than that from you."
I wiped the tears away, my face burning from my anger. "You don't even deserve dittly squat! You've done nothing for me that would actually make me a better person, you've tried to brainwash me into thing that fame and fortune was the only way to live! If I didn't have mum around then I could have thought that way, but I know now that you're just a coward! You don't know anything about life!"
"Da- Urgh!" He grabbed a hold of my shoulders, forcing me to back up against a wall. My head slamming into a picture frame, causing the glass to shatter onto the wooden floor. "You hear me? I'm your father! I can do whatever the h- what ever I want. It's my right to brainwash you with the truth! That's what life is about, survival. If you don't make it out there in this world then TOO BAD. Boohoo for you, son." Again, he smashed me into the wall, causing me to grit my teeth together in pain. "You don't have a right to tell me what I do or do not know."
"You can keep lying to yourself but I'm never going to listen to you!" My throat burned from my screams, my cries of pain as he slams me up against the wall. I would never raise my voice in front of anyone in my family, maybe because this could happen as a consequence. I'm not the kind of person to hurt people intentionally, like he is. I was nothing like him.
His face was close to mine, his voice lower. Cold, something that made shivers run down my spine. "What the h- What are you talking about?"
"YOU'RE NOT MY FATHER!" Crack. That was the sound before great pain entered my body. It echoed throughout my head. The back of my skull burned intensely. Tears were streaming from my eyes, my breath in quick gasps for air. I could barely see from the tears, the pain made everything worse.
His eyes, the same blue that was mine now looked like a black hole of nothingness. His lips, plastered into a frown upon his brilliant toned face. This was a side of the story that the tabloids never catch. His secret life of a brutal father who lived deep underwater.
I winced as he let go of his grasp, causing me to collapse onto the floor. My jeans saving my legs from the mess on the ground. My lips trebled terribly. Once he turned his back on me, I muttered something softly. "Did you… Even love mum at all?"
He spun around to face me, eyes shocked but astonished at the same time. His mouth hanging open slightly, like he was about to answer but couldn't find the words. Nothing came.
When he didn't speak, I took it as an answer, "Didn't think so." I wiped the tears away from my eyes, picking my weak body off the floor. My knees were shaking as I made my way, back turned on him, to the door. I didn't dare look to see what mess was covering the wall.
I couldn't help but wonder how Naminé looked then; I wasn't paying attention to tell. I could imagine her eyes, widened in shock just like our father's. Her mouth, slightly creating a gap in between her pale rose lips as she made a small gasp. Maybe afraid of what was happening to me, maybe frightened that I wasn't the same person that I've always been. I didn't know.
Then I wondered how mother would have looked if she had been here.
I was right in the doorframe when I started to laugh. I chuckled to myself in an unusual manner that I didn't recognize at all. Something that would make a person call me a maniac. I figured that this was caused from the blood loss or being knocked into the wall so many times.
I turned my head to my father to face him, his body petrified by my actions. I wanted to tell him something that he should always remember. Raising a hand, I pointed at him, "I want you to know that I'll never- I'll never - AND I MEAN I'LL NEVER TURN OUT TO BE LIKE YOU!"
Slam! I closed the door on that part of my life forever.
I went into the bathroom, sat on the floor, and began to clean the wound. I felt the blood leaking from my body so fast; I barely could keep my eyes open to place a rag to clean up the blood. I could barely lift the rag. I was numb in my fingertips and my limbs felt like jelly. Then the bathroom door opened.
My vision was horrible; it was too dark to see anything in front of me even though all the lights were on in the bathroom. Soon, I decided that it was better to just keep my eyes closed. The person took the rag from my hands, placing it on the counter. They pulled on my arms, helping me up off the ground and then guided me to the bathtub. I sat myself inside, them helping me along the way and sat down inside. They sat down on the ledge behind of me but not before grabbing something from a drawler in the cabinet.
I felt a hand search through my hair, pulling out the shards of glass that didn't have contact with my skin. After that, they opened what must have been a first aid kit and pulled out a pair of tweezers. They began to pull out the pieces of glass out of my scalp, opening even more wounds.
After pulling all of the glass out that they could, they took a gauze to hold over the wound. They took my hand to place it on the cloth type material to keep it in place as they left their spot behind of me to turn on the water.
The water continued to run until it was almost to my waist, then was shut off. The person returned, carefully unbuttoning my shirt, taking it off gently, and setting it aside. Warm finger ran over the tops of my shoulders where my father had been holding onto me before. The bruises must have been noticeable.
A washcloth brushed against my forehead, then wiped off my entire face. Slowly, they moved down to my neck, washing the back carefully since it was so brutally bruised. They were careful from my shoulders to my back. After they had washed my entire torso, they moved back to their original position behind of me, taking my hand off the gauze.
The washcloth burned as it ran over the wound. The person cleaned out my injury with the washcloth, pulling out pieces of glass every now and then. Once they were finished, they picked up a large bandage to wrap around my skull. It hurt slightly; it was so tight around the wound that it caused me to flinch.
The person was finished with their job, but they didn't leave just yet. They pulled my head back to rest in their lap. I felt a soft hand across my cheek comfortingly. Once I opened my eyes, I could only see a silhouette of a person.
"Mum?"
I woke up to a bright room with a machine beeping by my side. IV's were injected into my arm, making me uncomfortable. I looked across the room from my hospital bed to see Naminé drawing by herself. Her nose inches away from her sketch pad.
I groaned in pain, trying to pull myself up in a sitting position. Naminé noticed me immediately and came rushing to my side. "Nam?" I now noticed that my voice was very hoarse, my throat being completely dry. "What happened?"
She bit her lip, "You don't remember?"
"Remember what?"
Naminé sat down beside of me, taking a hold of one of my hands. Her other hand playing with her loose blond hair. She had a worried expression written on her pale skin. "Y-you have t-to remember s-something, right?"
I shook my head, and then felt that it was bandaged tightly around my cranium. Slowly, it all came back to me. The fight, my father, my words all came back to me at once. Most of all, the pain.
Squeezing her hand, I answered, "I remember now. It's okay." I looked out the window of the hospital, noticing that it was raining outside. Pitter patter, pit pat. Naminé followed my eyes at the window.
"It's been raining harder lately." She nodded her head, bobbing it back and forth. "Strange… The weatherman never said that it would rain."
"Well, weathermen know how to disappoint, don't they?" The comment meant to come out sarcastically but since I had no enthusiasm in my tone, it made Naminé to stare at me confusingly. I continued to stare out the window, watching the droplets. The water hitting the glass in the unnerving rhythm that continued to grow in volume in my mind. "So, when do I get to leave this place?"
Naminé shook her head, "The doctors said that you can go home in three or four days. It all depends on if you feel better or not to leave. They had to stitch up your wound and you have to wait ten days before taking them out."
She really did seem worried for me. I wondered how she was acting after mine and my father's outburst. Then, I began to think about how my father was acting now seeing me in the hospital. Is he caring about my health or what the tabloids will think about this?
It took a minute for me to answer her. "That's… That's not what I meant, Nam."
Bobbing her head up and down, she said. "I know."
Naminé stayed with me the whole time I was at the hospital. We would talk some of the time, or she would draw while I thought. However, for the four days that I had to stay in there, I never saw my father's face once. I didn't think that he has forgiven me yet.
The day I was let out of the hospital, my father came into the room. He patted Naminé's head gently. "Wake up, we're going." It wasn't directed at me, but I knew that he meant me too. He tossed some clothes on the bed for me and left the room with Naminé.
I got dressed quickly, then exited the room to see Naminé waiting for me near the elevators. We took it together down to the first floor where my father signed me out. We left, he drove me home, and then he left.
Four days later, he still hasn't come home.
Eight days total, two days left until I have to take my stitches out, four days missing, twenty-nine days living a nightmare.
Everyday I had to have Naminé wiggle the stitches around so the skin wouldn't grow onto them. She was gently, but it still hurt terribly. I thought they she would make a good nurse someday.
I waited until Naminé went to sleep on the ninth day to try to call my father. I found his cell number in the phonebook and called it. He would pick up; he didn't think that I would try to call him.
"Hello?"
"Greg Melodious?" I asked, my confidence lowering slightly. I could imagine him coming home one day, glaring at me for bothering him at his work.
"This is he… But who is this, may I ask?"
"This is…" The phone was shaking tremendously in my hand. I was afraid of how his reaction would be. "This is your son."
There was silence for a second or two then he cleared him throat. "D- Demyx? But… Why are you calling me? Especially at eleven o'clock at night?"
"You have to come home soon; you can't abandon Nam just because of something that I've done. Don't take this all out on her." I paused, to look out to the sunroom. There were candles burning inside the room, something that Naminé liked to do. We both learned it from our mother. "She needs you."
I was done after that so I hung up before he had a chance to say anything back. Then I walked inside the sunroom, sitting down on one of the many cushions on the floor. The moon wasn't out today, or it was just covered by the clouds. Again, it was raining.
Finally, it was the tenth day; the day that I could have my stitches taken out. Naminé had me sit at the dining room table as she took them out one by one. I thought that she was just trying to punish me by facing me towards the wall that I had been smashed into repeatedly. The blood had been washed away with bleach and repainted quickly after the accident.
When she was halfway finished, my father came into the room. He didn't look over towards us, only passed through to go into the kitchen. I was glad that he came to his senses and hadn't left Naminé. I wouldn't know what we could have done if he did.
It felt wonderful once she was done. I thanked her for taking care of me then headed up to my room. All I did for the rest of the day was stare out my window at the rain. Naminé was right; the weatherman never said anything about rain for today. The rain must be haunting me for some reason.
Day eleven, I decided that the family would be much better without me around.
I stayed in my room the whole morning, my door locked, and began to pack everything that I could into two large suitcases that my mother bought me when we took a vacation to the islands. While I packed, I muttered everything I threw in them, "Shirts, jeans, shoes, glasses, text books, journal, photo of mum…" I held the framed photo for a few more seconds before letting it join the rest of my belongings.
Next, I moved to my closet. Once I opened the door, I found my sitar in its case. My mother played the sitar sometimes when it was storming outside and we couldn't walk along the beach. She taught me everything I needed to know. My talents could never match up to hers.
I quickly picked the sitar up and placed it on the bed with the suitcases. I searched some more, only finding more clothes to pack. Then, I found my music booklets and decided to pack them also. I packed my toothbrush, toothpaste, comb, hair gel, shampoo, all the things I needed for daily use.
Once I was done gathering my things, I organized them into the suitcases. Taking out my backpack I rarely used for school, I threw most of the books into that so my clothes and other essential items could fit into the suitcases. I fixed everything neatly so that I could fit them into one suitcase. Lazily, I threw the other empty one back into my closet, knowing I wouldn't need it for any longer.
There was a knock at the door, startling me. After of few seconds of waiting for the person to leave, they knocked again. I wanted to ignore it, but the endless tapping continued. The rhythm reminded me of rain.
I unlocked the door, not caring to look at who it was on the other side. I figured that it was my father, coming up here either to apologize about everything that he has done to me or to disown me. Both were very possible when it came it him. Still, I wasn't ready to see his face again.
"The door is open." I muttered just loud enough to be heard from my bed. I began to nervously fiddle with the zipper on my jacket as I faced away from my bedroom door. Somehow, I knew that I wasn't ready to be discarded so soon. Then again, I didn't think that I was able to forgive him just yet. Nothing was working out the way I wanted it to. I never wanted any of this to happen so fast.
I heard the door squeak while it opened and closed again. Nothing had happened, nothing had changed. Then, the most important note was that nothing was heard.
Now I noticed that I had been holding my breath the whole time, as if I was waiting for an explosive to detonate. I was waiting for my father to tell me that I couldn't be his son. I was waiting for my father to tell me that he was here. I was waiting for something. Something that I was expecting, a ticking time bomb.
I turned to the door, only to find that no one was there. Taking another look, I noticed that something was laid down on the corner of my desk. I walked over to the item and picked it up.
My heart sunk, almost like I was caught in a current and it was starting to pull me below the surface. I was sinking, slowly. My head feeling dizzy as the light began to lose its glow as I traveled deeper. No one called for me, no one could rescue me. No one really cared.
I clutched the book in my hands tighter, tears welling in my eyes. The outside of the book was a light blue covered with cutouts from magazines about the ocean. I've seen the book many times before. This was my mother's scrapbook.
"Nam…" I didn't open the book nor did I want to. The memories were burning holes in my heart, the deeper the water the worse the burn. All that I could do for the next few minutes was stop the tears from falling.
I glanced at my watch and decided that I better hurry. Placing the book along with my other's, I checked my wallet. I took all the money that I had in my cash box with me, some in my wallet and some in my pants pocket. Something I learned from one of the captains on the pier. If someone stole your wallet then you still have some cash on you.
My sitar was against my back, held on by a strap that was tightly pulled against my chest. I held onto both my suitcase and backpack in one hand as I made my way down the stairs and to the front door. I was greeted by eyes of sorrow.
Naminé was there, alone. She had her hand to her mouth, as if she was about to catch any words that she would speak. Her other arm was holding onto her stomach. Her eyes were red where the tears had fallen like mine had before. She didn't look well.
I couldn't bring myself to say anything. Naminé knew exactly what I was planning to do; she probably knew that I would make the decision at our father's little meeting eleven days before.
But I could feel that something was changing. We were more alike than we were three weeks ago. She had taken care of me when I was let out of the hospital because no one else cared to do it. She cared about me.
As before, we stood in silence at the front door. She, not really wanting to say anything and me, not knowing what I should say. The heavy silence that creates rifts between people. The gap was more like a canyon to me; she being on one side, me on the other. Barely capable to wave at each other, let alone talk.
Then, I left. I walked right past her, baggage and all. No goodbyes. Nothing. I just walked out on both her and our father's life… Forever.
As I walked away from the house, I turned towards the ocean. The sun was covered by clouds; nothing like it usually was when my mother was alive. Since her death, it has been raining. My mother was the sky and her silent tears continued to fall even after she was gone.
It took awhile to get into town but once I did, I found a taxi and was off to Rikku's apartment. At my mother's funeral, Rikku was the one who was comforting me. She stayed with me till the very end, when my mother was put into the earth.
I stayed longer than everyone else, they all went to my father's house afterwards for some dinner. However, I stayed with mother, and Rikku stayed with me. We sat at the grave sight until it was almost dusk, then we decided to go back to the house.
As we were walking, Rikku spoke. "I was talking to my dad earlier. Dad said that you can come stay with us, if you want. You know, if you don't feel like you can stay…" She kicked at the pebbles in our path, not making eye contact. She seemed slightly afraid to bring anything up that would hurt me. For that, I was grateful.
I nodded, taking Rikku's hand as we made it back to the house. Uncle Cid greeted us, asking where we had been while Naminé was by his side. They were the only ones who noticed that we were missing.
Once I got out of the taxi, my backpack dropped from my hands and landed with a cluck on the sidewalk. Rolling my eyes, I reached down to pick it up when another hand already had a hold of it.
My eyes followed from the hand up to the arm, then the shoulder until his face was in my view. He had a long face with high intense cheekbones. The eyes were the most intense color of green that I've ever seen. A green that burned like a wild fire. His skin was as pale as mine, looking colorless against his black clothing. Then I saw his hair. There was just enough hair to be tied back in a ponytail, the color being a rich red.
He held out the bag towards me, "Think ya lost somethin' pal?" It didn't dawn on me that this guy was mocking me. His tone of voice proved it.
I stood up, now coming to realize that this guy was taller than me, maybe a head taller. Forcefully, I took a hold of my backpack once more, prying the other to lose his grip. "Thanks."
He raised an eyebrow, "Don't I know you from somewhere?"
I shook my head, "Sorry, I'm new."
The red head only hummed as a reply. "I could've sworn that I've seen you before. You look too familiar." As he said it out loud, it was like he was talking to himself. "Well then, if we haven't met before, then I guess it's about time for a little introduction."
His words, smooth as glass. He seemed to be a natural talker, able to control the way his tone of voice structured the situation. It was something that sort of reminded me of my mother, her voice as a harp melody.
I raised an eyebrow at the proposal, but nodded to it anyway. I stuck out my hand towards the red head. "I'm Demyx Melodious."
He opened his mouth then quickly closed it, understanding who I was. Then, he rubbed the back of his neck as if he was in an awkward position. He stuck out his other hand to take mine in it. "Axel Vivus. Got it memorized?"
I smiled at him while I pulled back my hand to return to what I was doing before. I turned away from Axel and started to walk towards the building. I was surprised to see that a shadow was following me.
"You don't live here. Do ya?" He asked from behind me. I shook my head, "You need help finding someone? I know everyone in this building, I'm sure that I can find who you're looking for."
"Rikku Marine." He nodded and began to show me to the entrance of the complex. It was seven stories high, two apartments for each story. It was in pretty decent shape and I was certain that I would be happy living here for a while.
"You lied, I do know you." Axel said as we got into the elevator. He had a cocky grin plastered on his face as if he knew who I was all along.
I ran my fingers through my hair, watching as he pressed the button for the fifth floor. The elevator started to move and I was trapped inside to talk to this stranger. "Well, you know, it's hard not to know about someone who's famous."
"I wasn't meaning that, silly." I again saw that he was still mocking me as I stood beside of him. Then I gave him a puzzled expression, wanting to know what he meant. "You go to the same school as I do. I come through the backstage sometimes to get onto the catwalk above the stage. Mr. Stan doesn't mind much, though. I've been doing that for years."
I nodded, not really understanding what he was telling me. "So you saw me… While I was performing from the catwalk which is…"
"Thirty feet above the stage, yes. It's a pretty nice view from up there." It was amazing that he hadn't fallen off the catwalk and died yet. The elevator stopped and the doors opened for me. "You're pretty good, too."
"Thanks." I got out, carrying my baggage with me.
He pointed to the right door in the hallway, "That's the one that you want. Tell Rikku that Axel says 'Yo'." He gave me a two-finger salute. Then he pressed another button and the elevator doors closed. Somehow, by the way he acted, I could tell that he was way above the surface. Maybe he's a sky kind of person.
I made my way to the door, knocking three times. Rikku was the one to open it, her eyes instantly widened in shock. "Demyx? What are you doing here… Clear across town… In the middle of the city… About four hours from your house?"
She looked at my baggage, understanding completely. "So… Is your dad willing to take up on that offer?"
She smiled a full, bright smile.
I continued through school at the arts academy. I found out that Axel was in fact at the top of the catwalk looking down at the stage. During lunch, I would join him and talk about random things that came into mind. We soon became best friends.
Axel munched on a cracker aimlessly, staring at the floor beneath us, "You know," Munch, munch, munch. "You're something different, Dem." Munch, munch, munch. "I really though that you-" Munch, munch. "-Would be some arrogant jerk who wouldn't want to-" Munch. "-Hang around-" Munch, munch, munch. "-A guy like me."
I quirked an eyebrow while giving a sinister grin, "What? Not hanging around the guy who takes SO freaking long to eat ONE freaking cracker? That seems impossible. Dreadful even."
He smirked, still looking down at the ground. Finally, he had finished the cracker that he had been working at for about ten minutes. "No, seriously. I've met some of the best of the best. And you…" His eyes found mine quickly, "You know your stuff AND you know how to treat people. That's the kind of talent is surpassed."
"Aw, that's so sweet of you." The look of kindness I was giving him changed into a serious one. "And as you can tell… Sweet and treat sounds a little like…" I picked up the sandwich in my lunch bag to throw on his lap, "EAT."
Everyday during lunch it was the same thing. He only would bring four crackers everyday to school. It bugged me. He was my friend, on of the very first real friends I ever had. I would not lose him to a cracker.
I asked Rikku about it one day and she said that she knows that Axel doesn't eat much. He never really did, that she could see. Then, after we would have our little conversation, I went back into my room and locked the door.
Almost every time I talked with her I soon would processed to my room. It wasn't as big and luxurious as my room by the shore, but I liked it much better. The walls were painted a dark blue that usually matched a stormy sky and the carpet was a dark brown. My stuff was not unpacked really, just sitting in a heap in my closet.
I looked out my window to see that it was raining again. The rain would never cease to haunt me. Therefore, I decide that I would enjoy the day by playing my sitar.
My sitar was much bigger than me but I got used to it after awhile. I practiced from the music book that I brought. Every note that I would play, reminded me of the bay, then the sky, then the rain, then my mother's tears.
"It's haunting me…" I muttered to myself.
Pitter Patter, Tap Tip Tap, Patter Pitter, Tip Pat Pit.
I raised an eyebrow at the unusual rhythm then raised my head up to see a strange shadow on my wall.
My head turned around so fast that I thought I would get whiplash. I was watching the figure that stood at my window, dressed in a black hoodie. His red hair barely visible. He was drenched from the rain.
"Ax-el?" I got up quickly, jogging over to my window to let the other inside. My heart was racing. How? What? Why? I knew the When, the When was right at this moment. I knew the Who, the Who being Axel. Then there was the Where, the Where being here. How? What? Why? Tip, Pat, Pit.
He greeted me like nothing was out of the ordinary. "Hey, Dem. How's it hanging?" He fumbled inside my window clumsy, falling onto my floor. "Oopies, sorry 'bout that."
I helped him up; he seemed far too tipsy for his own good. Wasn't this guy… fourteen maybe? I straighten him up and sat him down on my bed, moving my sitar into its case for the time being. "Axel? What are you doing here?"
Like it was nothing big, he shrugged. "Do I really need a reason to visit my good buddy ol'pal, hm?"
"I guess not." Still I was wondering if he was drinking before he came through the window. Maybe he was smoking something. I had no clue what he actually did in his free time without me around. Something was telling me that I did not want to. "Hey Axel… How old are you?"
The red head waved his fingers in the air in front of my face, "No, no, no. How old are you, my dear friend? I don't think that you ever told me your age." He was telling the truth, I'll give him that. I didn't tell Axel anything about my past besides the basic. My name, my school, and my father's name. He didn't even know about Naminé yet unless he read the tabloids.
"But I do insist that you tell me first."
He nodded, now flipping off his hood revealing red hair let loose. It was in uneven spikes that seemed to go all over the place. "I turned fourteen five weeks ago. Actually…" He took a second to think it over, "I turned fourteen the day I met you outside this place."
"Hmtp, must have been one real birthday present for you." I said smiling at the other who let out a small chuckle. "Now, I guess it's my turn… I'm turning fourteen in a month or so."
"Congratulations."
Axel ran a hand through his hair, calming himself down a bit. Soon, he became less tipsy and his eyes were in focus. I had no clue what had happened a minute ago, and something told me that I didn't need to know.
We stood still for a little while until I wanted to ask him a few things. One thing in particular that came into my mind. "Axel… Who ARE you, really?"
He smirked, a common thing that he would do. To tell you the truth, I didn't know anything about Axel as you would think I did. He was my best friend, but yet… He was still the unknown stranger that I met five weeks ago outside the apartment building. I didn't even know what floor he lived on.
Finally, he cleared his throat to answer me. "I'm a shadow. Well… More of an impression that was formed into the ground by a smothering fire." I nodded for him to continue. Something told me now that he had to be sober to come up with something poetic such as that. "The fire used to be there, dancing its natural rhythm of nature. But now… It's nothing more than an impression in the ground and the remains of what it destroyed."
His eyes were at his shoes, almost like he was afraid to look at me directly. Did something terrible happen to him? Something he did not like to talk about? I was barely able to mutter anything out. "W-what happened… Axel?"
"I was just a little kid, ya know? I lived with my family, mom and dad in the slums of this city. My brother had been missing for about five years now, barely even remembered him when I saw him after I thought my life ended. I was walking with my parents, together holding hands. I was in the middle. I was only eight."
I watched as he laughed. Tears were forming at the corners of his eyes, I thought. Or it could have been from the wetness of the rain outside. Once I saw his lower lip quiver, I thought otherwise.
"I couldn't really walk as fast as my parents could, I would always fall behind and they would have to slow down for me. One time, I tripped and had fallen, losing the other's grips on me. They continued walking slowly, waiting for me. Always waiting for me…"
I sat myself down, beside of the red head. My knees were shaking from the story he was telling, it was frightening to me. I wanted to comfort the other beside of me, but I didn't know how I could. Slowly, I ran a hand up and down the other's back in the attempts to make him feel better. Safe.
"I really didn't understand what happened that day; everything is such a blur to me. I try to bring it up with Reno, but he'll just change the subject on me. Well… what happened was there was an explosion near where we were walking. An explosion that my parents were too close to. I was just close enough to be blown backwards and suffering from burns and a concussion. When I awoke, I saw Reno beside of me in the hospital room. His eyes closed and tired… His face paled."
My lip was quivering, the air around us becoming colder by the second. "Y-your parents a-are…" I couldn't come to say it; I grabbed a hold of one of Axel's hands in the process, squeezing it tightly.
"I let Reno sleep for the time being… I could barely recognize that it was actually him at first. I hadn't seen him in so long. I was so excited. My brother had finally came back to join our family." His voice was now turning into a whisper. "What I didn't know was that my family was already gone. We were the only ones left."
Sighing, he laid himself down on my mattress. I did the same, letting him wrap an arm around my body as I laid my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Ba dump, ba dump, ba dump.
"So after I was all better, they let me out of the hospital and Reno took me under his wing. At the time, he was a seventeen year old who looked like he was twenty-five. He had a job as a bartender because he had resources, he would say. He wasn't even old enough to drink. But, we lived together in the apartment right above yours for many-a years now. He made just enough money to get me into the arts academy. Much better than the slums…"
I snuggled in closer, not caring about how wet I was becoming from the red head's clothes. All I wanted was to make the pain in everything just go away, to never return here. It wasn't welcome.
"So that's my life story, someday… It will be one of the top sellers at the book store right?" His grin was to hide the fact that a single tear escape his eye and was rolling down off the side of his face. "Dem?"
I clutched to his shirt, a few tears trailing down my own face. Then, I told him. I told him about my mother and how I was here because my father was too much for me to handle. I told him about Naminé, the beach, the water, and how I saw my mother's body with Rikku by my side. I told him about the hurt, the comfort, the fights, the tears, and even the pain that was still there.
Ba dump, ba dump, ba dump. That was all I could hear in the silence after I told him about myself. He was shocked, stunned, and speechless. All that he could do was hold me tighter against his body in an embrace. Outside was the same as always.
Pitter Patter, pit pat.
That was how the rhythm spat.
From all those unmelodious words,
In this silence for this and that.
It was something that the rain was mocking me for. I soon realized that it would never stop haunting me. That little song remained in my mind until I feel asleep, feeling the warmth wrapped around me comfortably.
The next day was the weekend thankfully and Rikku never came into my room during the weekend. I woke up and instantly noticed that Axel and I had fallen asleep together last night. He, of course, was still asleep.
Thankfully for me, I was able to pull his arm off me so I could decide on what to do next. Once I left my spot on the bed, he rolled over, curling up in a little ball like a small animal. He looked peaceful, vulnerable even.
I opened the door to my bedroom and closed it quietly as I retreated to the kitchen. Rikku had left a note on the counter saying that she was staying at a friend's house for the weekend that she left for me yesterday night. I crumbled the paper up and threw it in the trashcan. Cid, as on schedule, was already at work and would be for another six hours.
Then I decided that I would make breakfast for both me and Axel, maybe forcing him to eat something other than the crackers he enjoys so much. He worries me. Doesn't he ever hear the word anorexia once in awhile?
I made too plates full of pancakes, the only thing that I knew how to make really. I crept up to the door and carefully opened it to reveal the sleeping cat, right where I left him.
"Axel…" I closed the door behind of me, "Ax-el?" My voice was slowly rising from a mere whisper to my normal talking voice. "Hey, you wanna wake up for me?" His nose wrinkled. "Do I have to force you to get up out of bed?"
He turned away from my voice and muffled something into the blanket. Nothing was coherent enough to be heard.
"Come again? I don't quite understand what you're telling me." I nudged his shoulder, "I didn't hear that, Axel, you wanna say it again?"
He turned back to face me, his hair was now flattened, almost in an emo style. His eyelids barely able to stay open, "I said that I'm not that easy to wake up…" Then he collapsed back onto my bed.
"If you don't wake up, I'll take the pancakes that I just made and put them down your pants, Axel." That was the best threat that I could really come up with this early in the morning. Something that I doubted would work.
Oh, but it did! Axel chuckled, forcing himself upright. He stretched his arms out wide, trying to wake himself up a little more before he actually began moving. "Alright, alright… You got my attention, O'Captain of the Pancakes." The tone was still mocking but lighter than it usually was. "Now, why did you want me up again?"
I grabbed a hold of his hand and led him into the kitchen where there were pancakes waiting for him. He smiled at the thought. "You actually made me breakfast? I don't know what to say, Dem."
"Say nothing. Take it as a… Five weeks and one day anniversary of our friendship present." He laughed at my idea. What really surprised me though was that he sat down that the table with me, tore off a piece of pancake with his fork, and then ate it. Then a second later… He went onto another piece.
He saw me staring at him intensely and gave a worried expression. He stopped eating to ask what was wrong, but I quickly leapt off of my stool and yelled at the top of my lungs at him.
"Please! Don't stop eating!" It was over dramatic but I was amazed that Axel could eat more than a cracker in less than four seconds. Once he was finished laughing at my command, he obliged to it and began to take large bites of his breakfast. Then I told him what was going through my mind, "That is the fastest I've ever seen you eat, Axel. I'm simply amazed."
He laughed, "It's truly talent, I guess."
I took a few bites of my own meal. Many thoughts were still running through my mind. Axel shared the troubles of his life last night, what other things are within his being. What truly makes up Axel's being. Then I looked up at him once again, "Why don't you ever eat during school?"
"Well…" Playfully, he moved the fork all around his plate as he thought about it. He straightened up to look me in the eye. "I just don't feel safe eating in public. It's weird, I know but I don't feel safe."
Nodding to that, I reached forward to grasp his hand. Our fingers intertwined with one another's. "You're safe here."
He smiled, grasping my hand as a response. We finished the rest of our breakfast in silence and hold hands. I got up and placed our plates in the sink. No attempts were made to clean them right at the moment.
"Demyx?" I turned to see the red head leaning on the counter, his green eyes staring at me. We keep our gaze until he spoke again. "I want to show you something."
We walked back to my room. A few raindrops fell, but not enough to make a fuss about. He opened my window, crawling out to go onto the fire escape. I followed when he signaled me to come out. After that, we walked up the stairs to the floor above mine where Axel opened the window and climbed inside.
I looked at the room. It was a dark gray with hundreds of posters overlapping each another. The bed was more of just a mattress lying on the floor with a black blanket sprawled out across it. Most of the room was empty, but it expressed some much about the red head too.
Walking over to the small closet, he looked around, searching for something. When he found it, he made a satisfied sound and took down a small shoebox. I didn't know what to really expect. What did he really want to show me?
Slowly, he sat himself down on the floor. He began searching through the papers in the box and eventually found the object on the bottom of the box. His fingers wrapped around it, hiding its appearance from me.
Then, he smiled, "This is my five weeks and one day friendship present, I guess." Carefully, he underhanded it over me. I caught it, the gold chain wrapping around my index and middle finger as I did so. Before I could even look at the whole thing, he said, "Don't say you can't keep it because it's a present, kid. Just keep it."
I felt my heartbeat quicken as I saw what he had given me. It was a necklace that had a small pendent attached to it. My thumb rubbed against the caracoled fallen angel itched into the pendent. I tried to find the right words to say about the gift, but they all fell short of my throat.
"I know how you feel. It's alright. You don't have to say anything."
I didn't understand what my body was doing until it was already done. My arms had flung around the red head, hugging him close. I probably made him hit his head off the wall by the suddenness of my actions, which I quickly apologize for. He only chuckled and smiled at me.
The rest of the day, I hung out with Axel. My best friend in this forsaken world. I wore the necklace he gave me, creating a new habit of twirling the golden chain between my fingers.
I was sitting down crossed legged on the floor of the fire escape. It wasn't rain as much as it usually did, so I didn't wear any kind of jacket. Axel, however, was all decked up like he was going to go rob a 7-eleven. How he acted about the rain made me snicker.
"Why are you leaning against that?" I asked, my eyes landing on the broken ledge that he was leaning upon. The barrier looked old, rusted, and like it was going to just break any minute, letting the red head plummet to his dead from six stories up in the air. My heartbeat quickened by the thought of it.
"You know the phrase 'living on edge'? That's sort of what I'm doing now." There was a smirk planted on his face as he said this. He actually thought it was funny to put his life at risk? "I've been doing this for years, it hasn't broke on me yet."
"I don't want to be here when it does." I stood up and stretched my back, feeling the stiffness of staying in one position for a long time.
From that, he stood up next to me. "Fine, let's go inside." A flash of lightning cracked above out heads. "Before we become toast…"
His face was priceless. I found that he didn't like storms that much. Pitter Patter Pit Pat. The rhythm as the rain began to fall harder. He opened the window, letting me inside his room first. Quickly, as soon as he was inside, he shut the window staring at the window being pelted by the droplets.
"If we continued getting storms like this, the city will be flooded."
I was sitting down on his mattress, my fingers running over the pendent. All I could do was agree to the Pitter Patter Pit Pat.
End of Chapter One
I know that it was a long chapter. I am very sorry that I did not warn you beforehand that I could actually write so much. I rarely do anymore and it is because I have no time to do such a thing. So much studying- cough not cough- and working. Hopefully after I am done with some college classes I can continue on with posting all my stories up and having them completed. Oh right, it is an impossible dream.
By the way, this seems like it has a slight AxelxDemyx in it… As you can already tell but the main pairings will show up later on. It's not really a pairing or it could be, what ever you actually wish it to be.
I hope you enjoyed chapter one
Review if you wish, tell me what you think, tell me that I should actually work on this story more.
YourConscience813