Nobodies are not supposed to feel emotion. Their hearts are nonexistent, as are their capacities to feel. That's what Marluxia always told himself. But if that was true, why did the burning in his gut always return when he saw them together. Always keeping a safe distance, he'd watch as they walked together through the castle, talking and occasionally laughing. It made him sick to watch.
The first time their relationship had come to light had been months ago. Marluxia had been retreating down to the lab for medical assistance. He'd been sparring with Xigbar and the Freeshooter had gotten a bit trigger happy, leaving Marluxia with a bleeding gash on his arm. Since Vexen was the only one in the castle who was even close to qualifying as a doctor, whenever someone was injured or got sick, it was the Chilly Academic they went to.
He had just opened the door a crack when he saw them together, locked in their own private ecstasy. The young sitar player Demyx with his slender musician's fingers cupping the scientist's face, his lips tracing feather light kisses up his neck. Vexen holding him close, his pale face lightly flushed as his chest heaved slightly. Number Eleven watched with faint shock as their lips met in a deep, warm kiss. He left unnoticed and treated his in wound with his own herbs.
Ever since that day the thought of them together haunted him, churning in his mind and stomach, festering like an infection. Every time he saw them touch, even in the most casual gesture, it made his blood boil. Though Marluxia remained aloof to the outside world, inside his rage and-what was the word? Jealousy? Yes...jealousy- jealousy continued to fester.
He should be mine, Marluxia told himself when he watched Vexen and Demyx walking together through the halls of the castle. He rightfully belongs to me and no one else. You're nowhere near good enough for him.
It was then he decided to have a little 'talk' with Number Four. That 'talk' consisted of trapping him in an empty corridor, the thorny vines he controlled twisting tightly around the cold scientist's thin arms, pulling him down to his knees as blood trickled through the small holes punctured in his cloak. The Graceful Assassin smiled and slipped an elegantly gloved hand under the Chilly Academic's chin, lifting his head to look up.
He wasn't a jealous man, Marluxia explained in a calm voice, far from it. However he hated it when other people touched his things. And it drove him wild when people didn't pay attention when good advice was offered.
The vines tightened, driving thorns deeper into his flesh but Vexen didn't make a sound. When the vines began to freeze and crack Marluxia released the scientist and walked away, leaving Vexen alone with his thoughts. When he saw Demyx with a telltale dark mark on his exposed neck the next day, he knew that Vexen had failed to heed good advice.
When Marluxia gave Axel his orders, he knew the inward euphoria he felt wasn't real. Simply a reaction from his other's memories memories, but that was enough for him. Soon Vexen would be out of the way.
You see, Demyx? The Graceful Assassin thought with a touch of smugness. You really weren't good enough if you can't even save him from dying.
Truly, jealousy will drive even the strongest men mad...
Disclaimer: I wrote this in about half an hour and I'm so insanely proud of it. Would it be creepy if I said I rather enjoyed getting into Marluxia's head?
And yes, if you can't tell, this was heavily inspired by Moulin Rouge.
I own no characters depicted in this story.