Kitchen

Discalimer: noun (law) a voluntary repudiation of a person's legal claim to something. I claim no legal ownership to Kingdom Hearts. Blah, blah, blah. The characters belong to SquareEnix. I was also inspired to write this after reading the short novel by Banana Yoshimoto of the same title. No legal rights to that, either. Shit. I own nothing.

Dedication: For Dualism, who converted me to Zemyx-ism. (Even though I still scream "Die, you Michael Jackson wannabe freak!!" when I fight against Demyx in KHII. I have no problems with Zexion. Mostly because he didn't actually speak much in CoM and wasn't a major pain to fight. Though I can't remember if I actually fought him... and was it as Sora or Riku?) And because she reviews every single chapter when she reads my stories and constantly showers me with verbal bouquets. So lovely! So I simply must continue writing and dedicating whole chapters and whole fics to her because I am just that thankful for her positive support of my writing!

Opening Note: I warn you. This probably sucks. For one, I've never written from Demyx's POV. I'm pretty sure I didn't pull it off. For another, there are mentions of death in here. And that never goes over very well, does it? Uh... what else? Did I mention it's in Demyx's POV? Yeah. I'm not sure how that turned out. I wish I had more juice. The ending probably sucks, too. But hey. I'm proud of it, mostly.

I was a kitchen god.

While my older brother Luxord was busy learning to play poker from the television, I was mastering the art of the Easy-Bake Oven. Luxord would later be killed in a casino over some stupid bluff, and I would get accepted to culinary school. Life is ironic sometimes.

After Luxord died, things were strange. I wasn't used to him being around, anyway. So when he was gone, I didn't exactly feel the need to mourn. I mean, I didn't cry or anything. And that was weird, because I was the more emotional one out of us two. I cried something awful when our parents died in that car crash. I was fifteen and I cried like a girl for nights. Luxord, twenty then and able to care for me, never tried to console me at all. I figured he thought it would just be better if I cried as much I needed to. I kind of hated him for it, but then I felt bad because I realized he must want to cry, but he didn't know how.

Anyway. Life went on. Luxord worked any job he could and gambled in between. I gave sitar lessons to younger kids and used the money to finance my baking experiments. Luxord worked some more, did the unemployment thing, gambled some, and then repeated the cycle. And then I was accepted into the local but prestigious culinary academy. Luxord made some comment about how our parents would be proud, then didn't talk to me for a week.

I started working in the fanciest restaurant in the city between my advanced classes. It was around that time that Luxord managed to stay employed for almost a whole year. We were happy for the most part. I mean, we lived together and everything but hardly saw much of each other. Don't get me wrong. I loved my brother. But when I woke up one morning to an empty apartment and realized he should have been home by now, it didn't strike any emotional chords in me. When I walked into the kitchen to start breakfast, the phone rang and it was Vexen.

I sat in front of the fridge for a long time after the call, and eventually it occurred to me to call in sick to work. I didn't cry at all. I just sat Indian style, the tile of our kitchen oddly warm, the hum of the fridge comforting in an weird way.

Vexen helped me with things. The burial. Sorting out the documents and everything. He said I could call him if I needed anything, but it was awkward as we didn't really know each other either. He was Luxord's friend. I was Luxord's brother.

Life went on. But things were strange now. I'd become used to having the apartment to myself, but now Luxord's room was empty. I even felt a little empty inside. That's when I started to sleep in the kitchen, body pressed to the warm tile in front of the fridge, the low, gentle hum filling the silence that normally would suffocate and keep me awake.

I drifted from class to work, and even though I loved it as much as ever, I still felt a little empty. I filled the kitchen with baked goods and worried about how I was going to keep paying the rent once all the money Luxord had left was gone.

I was twenty three and on my own. I couldn't keep living like this.

And then, the doorbell sounded, and I felt an emotional chord being struck within me.

I didn't recognize the person standing there, but when he said he'd known Luxord, I let him in and offered him some of the cake I'd baked earlier with some coffee. He was actually quite handsome, this stranger who claimed to know my brother.

"He came and crashed at my house sometimes," he said, shrugging his shoulders. He had a slight frame, much like mine. But I could tell he wasn't as weak as I was by the way he carried himself. His eyes were dark, but friendly when he smirked, and he had the most interesting hair I'd ever seen on a man. Black tinged with navy with a sheen of silver gray. His name was Zexion.

"How much longer will you stay here?" he asked.

"Here?" I looked around at the small kitchen, filled with baked things. "I'm not sure. I need to find another place. Luxord didn't leave much, and my job doesn't pay much."

"Come live with me." He said it like it was the easiest thing in the world. Problem solved. "It's the least I can do for you."

I found myself considering this.

"Until you find some place else," he added, picking at the crumbs on his plate. I was flattered that he'd eaten the whole piece.

The next day I'd started moving in.

Zexion's apartment was smaller than mine, but I didn't have to pay rent.

"Just bake for me and we'll be even," he shrugged, helping me stack some boxes in a corner of the living room. He lived with his adoptive father, an older man named Xemnas. There was no extra bed for me, but I had the huge sofa all to myself. It was a great sofa. Soft as heaven. The moment I first sat on it I never wanted to get up again.

And the living room was practically half inside the kitchen, so I'd be able to hear the refrigerator's hum at night. It was perfect, and I felt the emptiness inside me fill a little.

I didn't meet Xemnas until I'd been living there for two days. I woke up to the sound of pots and pans being banged together and peeked over the back of the couch, spying an attractive older guy in a business suit, throwing a pan on the stove and rummaging around for foodstuffs.

"Oh, good morning," he said, as though we'd known each other for years.

"Uh... hi. I'm Demyx."

"Yes, I know. It's so nice to meet you."

And he did seem to mean it, smiling a genuine smile before smoothing his mane of perfect silver hair and getting back to looking for whatever he was looking for.

Eggs, he told me.

I found them on the top shelf of the fridge in the very back, then offered to make him an omlette. He looked at me skeptically, but then decided it was okay. I pulled on my bathrobe, poured myself orange juice, and got to it.

"Best breakfast I've ever had," he thanked me, then ran out before he was late to work. (He was a university professor.) Zexion had already gone, so I had a few hours to kill before I had to go to the restaurant. Remembering my deal with Zexion, I started preheating the oven and pulled out a brownie pan. My special chocolate cheesecake fudge brownies were waiting for him to enjoy when I left the apartment.

And life went on.

Xemnas, Zexion and I shared the cozy little place with me doing most of the cooking. It was rare that we were all home at the same time, but we all got along well. I baked. And at night the hum of the fridge put me to sleep.

Of course, after a few days I started looking for a new place of my own. It was a lot harder than I thought it would be, really. Everything I looked at was too expensive, too far away from work, or too something else. Zexion and Xemnas said I could stay with them as long as I needed, but I still felt like I was imposing. So I kept looking.

"So anxious to leave me?" Zexion joked one day as he grabbed a muffin and headed to work.

He was already gone by the time I realized he'd said me instead of us.

I was too confused to bring it up later, and he didn't mention it either. It was equally reliving and disappointing. Zexion didn't want me to leave. I mulled the thought over and over in my head, letting them block out the hum that usually lulled me to sleep. He'd probably just miss my baking. That was it.

A few weeks later I found a place a few blocks away, about the same distance to work, and affordable.

"I'll bring you baked stuff whenever I can," I said as I carried boxes out of the apartment, in hopes of cheering Zexion up. He hadn't said a word since I told him I was moving out, only smiled and nodded as though to say he was glad for me or something.

"Won't you miss the couch?" he asked.

I blinked.

"Yeah..." I smiled. "My big, comfy couch."

He smiled. Suddenly, "It isn't fair. You'll be gone now... I won't walk into the living room in the morning and see you sleeping there or see you dancing around the kitchen."

I didn't know what to say for a long moment.

"I'll... I'll miss you too, Zexion."

I didn't see him again for three long months.

Soon I'd be graduating from culinary academy. Already I'd been promoted at work to head pastier. And I'd been chosen to go with a handful of other top students to go to one of the fanciest, well renowned restaurants in the whole country. We were to be given a special tour of the kitchens and three days of free meals. I was excited.

And then Xemnas died.

It had actually happened about a month after I moved out, Zexion said. He didn't want to bother me, and for him it felt strange. He didn't want anyone's pity or comfort. I told him I understood. He thanked me for the two baskets of cookies and things I'd managed to give him through a neighbor, and we made plans to see each other again.

Xemnas had been killed by one of his students, an intelligent young man who constantly debated with him. He'd been stabbed, and in turn grabbed the nearest blunt object – which happened to be a microscope – and swung it at the student's head, cracking his skull open. It had been horrible, really. I was surprised I'd missed reading about it in the paper. Zexion said that the university was doing its best to keep it quiet.

Zexion seemed depressed, so I dragged him to the supermarket and bought things to bake him a cheesecake. I danced around the kitchen while I mixed things together in an effort to make him smile and actually succeeded. He had a nice smile, really.

He ate two pieces of cheesecake, two big pieces, and then we sat on the couch for a long time.

"I remember how you used to take all your blankets and make a nest on this couch," he said.

"I love this couch," I said happily. "I like how it's practically in the kitchen." He smiled and I continued. "I used to... before I lived here with you... I used to sleep in front of my fridge because Liked the sound it made. So I liked this couch because I could fall asleep hearing that sound. That hum. It's a comforting sound to me now."

He was silent for a long moment, satisfied with this.

"I didn't want you to leave."

I stared at him. "You missed my muffins." Even as I said it I knew it sounded dumb.

He chuckled softly. "There's that. But I also missed watching you sleep... you looked so peaceful. I missed watching you in the kitchen; you were so happy. I missed talking to you. I missed your laughter. I missed listening you talk to anything and everything while I ate whatever you baked for me."

Again, I didn't know what to say.

"I missed you, too."

And I had.

And suddenly he was kissing me. I sank down into my couch, my hands reaching up to touch his hair.

I woke up just before the sun, and the first thought I had as I opened my eyes was that Zexion's bare chest was warm and firm, like the kitchen tiles in my old apartment. I smiled a little against his skin, pulling the blankets into a nest around us. The fridge hummed, and I knew the emptiness was finally gone.

- The Writer