The sun was setting as I walked down a narrow alleyway. It was a shortcut of sorts, and although I knew it wasn't very safe, it still cut ten minutes off of my half-hour walk to work, and I felt that it was worth it. I could accomplish a lot in ten minutes, like get a coffee and a muffin, before I had to work the graveyard shift.

I turned my head just enough to get a quick glimpse at what was behind me, as I continued down the alley. It was now a nervous habit of mine to glance backward every ten seconds. I wasn't proud that I was so jumpy and nervous, but it made me feel better when I knew that I wasn't going to get killed on an off-chance that my usual stalker wasn't there.

I don't think that he knows that I know he follows me. I see him, not to mention hear his shoes, every day that he's there. I know that he does it because he loves me, but I've got to say that it still freaks me out. He's my very own stalker, like some kind of creepy abusive husband watching his wife go about her day just to secure his thoughts and make sure that he still hasn't got any reason to suspect her of cheating.

The only difference is that I'm male, there's nothing in the world that would ever make me want to cheat on him, and there's no way in hell that he'd so much as lightly scratch me, let alone abuse me. I firmly believed that he'd never intentionally hurt me; he was just scared of my wandering through the shady part of town that I had to go across to reach my final destination (a decrepit little pizza shop where I currently held employment), and I knew it. He was seeing me off, albeit in an awkward fashion, and at the same time he was ridding himself of mental images of my body planted in a casket at some graveyard.

I'd been working there since before I had met him (It was strange, coincidental meeting involving Roxas, a messenger bag, lipstick, and some yogurt. I'd never told anybody that particular story, and I refuse to: partially because I can't stop blushing whenever I so much as think of it, but mostly because I can't handle the gigantic blow to my ego.), and the only condition that I had when I moved in with him was that I got to keep my job. I got as much pizza as I wanted for free, and it paid quite well for a family-owned restaurant. Who'd want to give that up? He wasn't happy about it, but he wanted me to live with him enough to 'allow me' to continue working there.

The only thing that I didn't like about the whole ordeal was the fact that since I had gotten mugged six days ago, he seemed to think that I couldn't take care of myself. I could've kicked their asses if they hadn't come up from behind me with a knife while I was reading a fucking text message! I was distracted and I didn't see them, then it just got out of hand...

"It could've been a lot worse, Axel!" he shouted. "Who knows what they could've done to you if Luxord hadn't been there! It's sheer luck that I'm not picking out your coffin right now!" He only called me Axel when he was really worked up, and I had to fight back a wince every time he did.

I knew I should have told Luxord to keep his big mouth shut. You can't trust people not to tell your over-protective boyfriends anything these days, can you?

"Dem, listen to me. I'm not dead and you're not crying over my dead body. Everything's fine!"

We had been arguing since I'd gotten home a few minutes prior, and I couldn't honestly say that I was the happiest person alive. I needed to think of a way to quickly end the argument before it escalated into something much worse than a simple lover's quarrel. "And I'd prefer a mahogany casket, by the way. I don't want any of that metal crap," I said.

It worked perfectly, and he cracked a smile and tightly embraced me. "I won't let you get killed, Ax."

"I don't plan on dying, thank you very much," I mumbled, hugging him back just as strongly.

I hadn't thought that by: 'I won't let you get killed, Ax,' he meant: 'I'm going to become your stalker until the end of the universe to make sure you won't get mugged again, Ax.' Maybe he'd expect me to call him when I got to work, but this was a little unorthodox, wasn't it? What was he? An abusive boyfriend? I don't think so. He'd better not be turning into one, either. I didn't mind the whole stalker-thing much, honestly. I mean the "stalking" was creepy, yes, but it was an act of love. He loved me, and he wanted me to safely get to a shitty job that I had to cross a shifty part of town to reach.

The one thing that irked me about the whole situation was that he didn't just walk beside me. Why was that? And why was it that it took me nearly an entire week to realize that?

I stopped walking, and I heard his footfalls stop when mine did. I turned around, and I could almost hear his panic ridden thoughts beat against his head; they were plastered all over his face. He turned to walk back to the main road, and suddenly I was the panicked one. I didn't want him to leave!

"Demyx?" I asked apprehensively.

He stopped.

"Don't go," I pleaded. I really didn't want to walk by myself.

He complied, and I walked down the alley towards him. He hadn't moved since I called his name, so back was still to me when I embraced him.

"How long have you known?" He asked quietly.

"Since the very beginning," I told him, smiling against his shoulder. "You're not a very good stalker, you know."

He rested his head against mine, and said, "Well it's good that I wasn't thinking of taking it up as a full-time occupation, isn't it?"

"You'd get fired by whoever it was you were following," I smirked. "But, I love you, even though you can't stalk worth shit."

I broke my embrace and offered my hand instead.

"Walk with me?" I asked.

He took it, "Of course."

"I can't believe that I'm in love with my stalker."

AN: For Sam. Thank you for editing, Ama. -heart-