You Slipped Away

He was pretty certain that he was dying. (One-shot)


She whispered his name. But he didn't reply. Tendrils of water lined the floor in zig-zags and his discarded sitar lay cold and still a few feet away. His eyes were closed and she crawled weakly on sore hands and knees towards his unmoving body. She leaned down with uncoordinated shakiness to place the shell of her ear against his chest to check for a heartbeat, but could discern no pulse. Then she realised it was stupid of her to even bother anyways. Wincing slightly, she moved her body into a kneeling position by his side and began to prod him tentatively, finally resorting to shaking him by the shoulders in a gentle, urgent manner. There was no response. And so she propped his head up on her lap.

It lolled to one side limply, his blond hair falling gracelessly into his face.

"Demyx," she whispered once more, her voice feathery and soft so that no one else could hear it. She placed a deathly pale, satin-smooth hand on his right cheek. It felt like waxen ice, a little damp and clammy. "Hey. You there?"

Spasmic eyelids fluttered open slowly. A fragile moan resounded around the cold stone walls of grey and pale blue. And finally, the musician looked up into worrisome pools of ocean cerulean with blurry vision, blinking in vague surprise and just a hint of unhidden confusion.

"N – Naminé?" he choked out feebly, his throat dry and hoarse. He recognised the white-garbed girl straight away and wondered what his head was doing in her lap of all places. And then, in his bewilderment, he felt sharp pain shoot though the joints of his limbs like electricity, and a splitting headache seemed to threaten to crack his skull open.

Naminé shushed him and reached down to clutch at his hand securely, as though not doing that would make him leave her again and never come back to the world of consciousness.

"Yes, yes! It's me!" she gushed soothingly, face splitting into a tender smile. "You're okay! Thank goodness! Don't you – don't you worry, you'll be okay," she nodded quickly, trying on an expression of reassurance and comfort as she twined her fingers with his.

"What... what happened?" Demyx asked, voice hushed, his grip on her fingers tightening more than just a fraction. Did something awful crop up? How did he black out? Was his body malfunctioning somehow? Did someone try to assassinate him? His sea-green eyes widened increasingly with each passing moment as his mind raced with all sorts of horrible scenarios. He was pretty certain that he was dying. Why else would Naminé look so worried?

… Oh, man. Was it cancer?

And then he heard muffled sounds and looked to the side. It was Axel, who tsked and stepped around the tiny girl, looking blatantly amused.

"What happened?" the redhead echoed, lips twitching upwards in a smirk. "You slipped on your own damn puddle of water and slid five feet, colliding into Naminé and knocking yourself out, that's what happened. Moron."

End.


Author's note: Ermmm... Don't look at me! I've got nothing. LOL. Just a random drabble that probably made no sense whatsoever. I guess it happened before Chain of Memories. :) Mmhmm. Psuedo-Demyx/Namine. :D The title of the fic was totally intentional.