author's note ..
This is the result of a write-off with a friend, with a random pairing and lyric as the prompt. It was timed, so, probably isn't as good as it could have been.
kh is not mine.
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larxene x zexion
( it's your life -- but you've only got one )
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"I hate it down here," Larxene mumbled to herself as she materialized within the darkness of the castle's basement, immediately feeling coldness wrap around her like a thick shell. Only one light bulb illuminated the space, dangling from the ceiling on a frail wire and flickering periodically, causing the shadows to grow and dance and multiply as she moved toward the center of the room. Blue eyes -- still piercing, even in the dark -- swept once around the area in search of the leader of the underground members; however, much to her displeasure, he ( and the rest of the hermits ) seemed to have taken a sudden and well needed vacation from the stuffy crypt.
"Damn it," She hissed squinting to get a better look of the room within the fading light. Everything seemed out of proportion; she couldn't tell what was moving and what wasn't. "You better not be taking a break, Zexion," Larxene said, louder now, still hoping that, maybe, he was lurking in one of the pools of darkness, only refusing to show himself to her because he was Zexion -- that is, a lousy, manipulative jerk.
Instead of finding a pair of eyes within the room, Larxene heard a slow exhale of breath a few feet away, followed by quiet rustling, before more silence. Someone had moved.
She searched blindly in the direction that the noise had come from, eyes already feeling strained from the effort. Although the light gave her glimpses of the rest of the room, each flicker would render her momentarily sightless, making it useless to try to get her eyes to adjust to the dark.
But finally, she noticed him, so still that he might as well be dead ( or whatever came after this life ); Zexion, knees pulled up to his chest and eyes closed, was sound asleep on the couch.
A frown tugged at her lips as she made her way toward him, stopping in front of the impromptu bed with hands on her hips. There were few Organization members who would dare be caught resting by one of their colleagues; Zexion, she imagined, was no different. There was no way he could have been expecting her, and, by the looks of it, the rest of the place was empty -- it was probably one of the few moments he had to sleep. She knew he worked a lot, through experience with Marluxia; scheming wasn't a part time job.
Alas, Larxene was far too sadistic to allow him to rest.
She rose her foot before dropping it swiftly onto his ribs, boot connecting harshly with his side, like she were trying to squash a bug. He responded with a quiet 'oomph,' as if the breath had been knocked out of him, eyelids popping open to reveal groggy blue-violet irises. "Time to get up, Zexy," She chirped in a mock-motherly tone, bending toward his face as he stared back up at her, startled.
And then he was angry. Irrationally so, perhaps -- but Larxene couldn't have known that waking Zexion up was like suicide, considering that she'd never seen him asleep before. He was kind of cute when he was napping, she'd give him that; it showed how young he must have been when he lost his heart.
Eyebrows pinched in the middle of his forehead, Zexion sat up, her foot sliding from his side and landing with an overdramatic clack against the floor. "Perhaps you've forgotten," He spoke, obviously irritated while he tried to rub the drowsiness out of his eyes with a palm; "That this month's goal is to give proper greetings."
"I'm sorry," She replied, a sarcastic frown touching her lips. "Hello, Zexion, how are you today? Did you know that your light is on crack?" She pointed a finger behind her, where the light bulb flickered wildly again, denying this preposterous statement. But the feeble attempt was its last -- and, as if on cue, it burnt out, leaving Larxene to guess what Number Six's reaction to her teasing could have been.
Zexion seemed to melt completely, merging with the shadows that made up the rest of the room as her eyes, once again, became useless. She snarled under her breath, clawing blindly at the air in front of her, hoping to grab on to Zexion and order him to change the light. It seemed as if he'd found a way to soundlessly creep away, however, and her jaw grew tight from irritation. "Where'd you go? You better be finding a new light bulb . . ."
"Don't tell me," He started smoothly, voice rich with amusement; "That you're afraid of the dark?" She couldn't tell where his voice was coming from -- possibly somewhere behind her. She wondered if he was using his illusions to trick her, and the thought made her only more aggravated.
"No!" She hissed, spinning around, urging her eyes to hurry up and stop being worthless in the darkness. "I'd just be happier talking to you if I could figure out where the hell you are . . ."
She took a few shaky steps forward, afraid of tripping over something, considering that Zexion seemed to be functioning perfectly fine at the moment. It figured; he spent all of his time down here. Instead of falling over something, however, she bumped harshly against something else, at first taking it to be a wall. But, cloth pressed against the side of her face as she regained balance, and she could vaguely feel a familiar mop of hair tickling her skin.
His hands fastened loosely around her waist as she realized what she'd walked into, and it was all she could do to prevent from kicking him or sending a shock through his body.
"Hello," He murmured, amusement still causing his words to drip sarcastically from his lips.
"Get," She started slowly; "Your hands off of me." While she'd removed her head quickly from his chest, her hands still rested against it, though she would only claim it was because she was trapped.
"You ran into me, Larxene," He responded in fake surprise, as if her accusation were offending him.
"Only because you won't fix the goddamn light!"
She could barely see the flicker of a smirk that touched his lips as he let go, and slithered back into the darkness without a word. A cold feeling immediately enveloped her again, nearly causing her to shiver -- she hated not knowing what he was up to.
Larxene wrapped her arms around her middle, gaze sweeping around the room once more, no longer completely blind. She could finally make out the outline of the couch that he'd been sleeping on previously, and could barely see his shadow moving swiftly toward a door -- the closet, she guessed. A nearly relieved sigh filtered through her nose.
She could hear him shuffling through the contents of the closet for what seemed like forever. Every now and then, she'd notice him pulling out a box, though each time, it was empty. Uneasiness and impatience finally settled in, but before Larxene could start yelling, she heard a low, swift list of profanities from the other end of the room.
"It seems," He said after a moment, shutting the door; "That we've run out of light bulbs."
"How can you be out of light bulbs?" Larxene wanted to smack something -- and, unfortunately, Zexion was the closest thing to her at the moment. In her rage, however, she failed to notice the table and other dangers conveniently located between the two, and as she took long, even strides toward the teen, her previous fears were met; she tripped and crashed to the floor.
The silence that followed her slip was short lived; although Zexion remained idle on the other side of the room, he couldn't keep from expressing his thoughts on the situation. "That was highly uncalled for, Larxene. Are you hurt?"
"I swear, Zexion," She snarled, lifting herself into a sitting position with an arm; "If you touch me again . . ."
Apparently, the threat hadn't been enough. She could hear him walking toward her again, slower, this time; his boots clacked almost monotonously on the floor, teasing her by ignoring her warning. Once in front of her, he extended and arm and opened his hand, offering to help her up. "You're utterly hopeless in the dark, you know."
"Whatever," She grumbled, reluctantly taking his hand -- but only because her ankle hurt like a bitch. "The only reason why you weren't stumbling around too is because you waste your whole life down here. One light, no light bulbs . . ."
"I'd hardly call this a life," Zexion interrupted, clasping his hand around hers and pulling her to her feet. She grimaced as weight was placed on her injured ankle, though bit through the pain and shook his hand away.
"Well, I'll bet you did this when you were alive, too, you creep." Larxene threw one of her hands behind her, creating a portal of darkness. It was hardly visible within the rest of the shadows, but by now, she could see Zexion in front of her with little trouble. He wasn't smirking anymore. This threw her off a little; it had only been a joke, no matter how vicious. But, she couldn't have known about the castle he'd worked in as Ienzo, the endless laboratories they studied darkness within . . .
"I'm leaving. Fix your light." Larxene stumbled toward the portal, silently seething because of her twisted ankle. A few seconds later, as she had stepped within it and could feel herself being wrapped in a different sort of darkness, she glanced back to see that he had disappeared again.
Once she had teleported to the upper levels of the castle, she remembered that she hadn't given Zexion Marluxia's order. Forget it, she thought with a sneer; Marluxia can deliver his own damn messages.