Second Chapter! Yeah… Enjoy. Thanks to everyone who reads!
"Demyx…"
"Wait--!"
Demyx cranked his eyes open, furiously slamming his eyelids up and down; his mind too impatient for the blotches of black to disappear from his sight. Once he had focused, his eyes darted across the ceiling before him. Where am I? The room was dark, except for some stray light's emanation from a window. His confusion began to dull, as his mind, once again, became hazy. His skin felt like it was drowning in lighter fluid, ready to burn at any moment. Arms shooting upward, his body had been hindered by what felt like a net of wool blankets. They smothered him. Panic arose in his lungs, and he, in his provoked terror, ripped off the sun-derived material. He burst upward, still sitting, but far from relaxed.
No longer was he in his apartment. He was sure of it. Besides, he was on a couch. And Demyx did not own a damn couch.
He tried to stand up. Legs shaking from the new found pressure, Demyx struggled and lamented breathy nothings into the air. In a desperate fury, he kicked what he believed to be the outline of a coffee table.
"Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey! Demyx, hey, stop!" someone called from behind him.
He didn't listen. He didn't have to listen. All that mattered was that he continued to hurt the fucking table, regardless of his dislike of the hot fluid seeping from his foot.
"Demyx. Hey! Stop!"
The voice was closer now. Probably in front of him. No. The table. The table.
"Stop."
Whomever this was, Demyx loathed the feeling of his wrists suddenly being choked, and his body being shoved backward. He hit the sofa, calming dramatically from the impact.
Steps faded from him.
He didn't realize where he was. And he wouldn't have, but the room across from him was tired of being mysterious. Two claps, and the room unveiled its identity; the kitchen.
It was all so simple now. The sofa, "Clap On" lights, hellish atmosphere… And that musky aroma that just soaks into every pore. Suffocating.
In all honesty, he could not figure out why he despised Axel's house. Demyx calculated that it was jealously at first. The house, peaking in every form of elegance, screamed for attention. Marble tiling, Oak paneling, Titanium kitchenware, Crystal dishware, and all the Ritzy electronic equipment one could possibly think of, lived in that house. It wasn't even that Axel was sly and humorous; a social butterfly that teased and taunted, receiving nothing but waves, smiles, and winks in return. Not that Demyx was socially awkward, he too was quite lively, but he never connected the way he wanted; the way Axel did. No. Demyx knew that people felt connected to Axel. And he knew that those blood red strands of hair always sagged whenever the poor guy's emotions couldn't reciprocate the adoring ones of others.
It wasn't jealously.
It was sadness.
Demyx yawned, falling back into the couch's soft mold.
What a night.
The figure returned carrying a tray of some sorts. It smelled like eggs… and fruit?
Clap, clap.
Axel stood before Demyx, carefully balancing a plate of scrambled eggs, a small orange, and some toast, the toast being the least appealing of the trio. Clearly, someone had scraped off pieces of charcoal from the bread, and then left the forsaken residue in the napkin. Axel noticed the line of disgust in Demyx's mouth and quickly snatched the blue, silk cloth from their eyesight. Despite the blackened bread, Demyx's stomach mumbled sharp whispers, signifying that it desired the meal. His eyes traced the food's appearance hungrily, but his hands laid flat.
He just couldn't eat.
Axel would have none of that.
"Eat. You're wasting my money and your time. I'm not leaving, and neither are you, until you eat--"
"How did I get here?"
Startled, Axel played with his empty hands.
I owe him.
"I'd been calling you for a couple of days. You never answered, so I figured, 'Is he mad at me or something?' Even if you were angry, I knew that you would at least give me the courtesy of a well thought out Screw off, before claiming abstinence on receiving telephone calls."
Demyx nodded, too engrossed in the tale to speak coherently. Well, there was that, and then there was his suspicion that his friend may be 'forgetting' some details. No. Axel didn't lie.
"…,and I drove to your apartment. The room is still 409, right? Yeah, I thought so. Oh, I had to take the elevator. Apparently, the stairs were 'out of order.' Strange, you know?"
It isn't that out of place.
"I went to your door, knocked a couple of times. Even, started shouting and slamming. You didn't answer. I went to your neighbors too. They weren't much help."
The boarders probably knocked the door into your face. Quit lying.
He knew the redhead wouldn't retaliate either. Six months ago, Axel's mind had warped into some grotesque generosity that simply infuriated Demyx. Axel acted on his emotions. He was never the kind of person to just weep and take the pain. Physical or mental, it didn't matter. Now, his backbone was gone. His fire was gone. Too kind was the man to turn to threats or bothersome pleading. Who was he…?
"I left. Went to Vincent's. I know you don't work there anymore, but I had to try."
Demyx captured the following silence, basking in his thoughts. He hadn't been to Vincent's in so long…
"Demyx. You've got to steady yourself. How many jobs are you working now?"
"…"
"Have you been fired?"
"No. Just hurry up with this. I'm steady enough. I don't need your fucking advice on what to do in life."
Axel stared at the couch.
Get angry already!
"Okay. Sorry. Well, I remembered you telling me that you were working at The Fray last, but when I got there, your manager said he hadn't seen you in over a week. Demyx--"
"Continue."
Sigh.
"Went to your apartment again. I had this spare key. Went inside and…"
Axel eased the door open. His steps reverberated throughout the room; the air so cold, he felt his heart tremor. A call. Demyx? My God… A broken mass on the floor. Skin colder than the room. Tattered black sweatshirt and gray pants. Bruises and… Brittle blood? This wretched expression.
The body carried to a car. On the shoulder of a friend.
"I drove home. And since I couldn't wake you, actually nothing would, I put you on this couch. Sometimes you'd wake up scared as hell. That's when I'd give you water. You wouldn't eat at all, so I was going to take you to the hospital... But… Do you remember any of this?"
No.
"I gave you so many blankets. Turned the heater high. But, Demyx, you never stopped shaking."
What? He never remembered giving Axel a spare key. He couldn't remember his sudden spurts of consciousness. He didn't remember anything. Demyx wasn't hungry anymore. But he ate, because he hadn't eaten in three days. The eggs, cold and runny, slid down his throat like saliva. The orange. It stung. He must have been biting his tongue in his dreams. But the toast... It was pleasant.
Demyx felt obligated to thank Axel for his hospitality, but a strange feeling of resentment had dawned on him.
Axel noticed the sudden drop in temperature.
"Demyx, how did you… why were you on the ground?"
Clang.
It was all back. The storm. The flash. The boom.
And as his fork dropped to the floor, the remaining food burst into the air, landing on the scarlet tile below.
"What?"
Demyx, livid and trembling, pulled his drained body up and ran for the door.
Axel sat, shaken.
"Please! I'm sorry! I…"
A moment passed. Axel found himself propped against the couch, whispering in apology. He was unable to stop the man. Defeated in every aspect.
"Axel, thank you. I'm sorry for all of this, it isn't my place to treat you like shit. It's not your fault, but I need to leave. I just need to go. I'm sorry."
Axel smiled, true feelings evident in his eyes. Demyx knew of these counterfeit smiles; the ones that hurt just to exist. It didn't matter how often he practiced them. He knew, and Demyx knew, that it was impossible to hide anything from someone you loved.
And then he ran out of the house, slamming the door, leaving his friend behind him.
Axel leaned back, whistling a tune. Filling the void in the house with a song.
---
He ran. Out the door. Down the moon kissed pavement. Under the wings of trees and clouds. Above the scarred earth. And up to the decaying bench of the bus stop.
Wheezing, Demyx bent forward, clutching his kneecaps for the little support they could offer. He ached, wishing he would have eaten the meal Axel had so humbly offered him. Fuck. He was toned from all the running lately, but one couldn't help but notice the sickly glow that radiated from his body.
Demyx's head popped forward, hearing the bus arrive in its usual, mechanically shrill manner. Its ashy façade, scratched and faded. Imperfect…
His fist launched itself into the bus doors, earning a muffled shriek from the designated driver above. Demyx held his fist to his side, ignoring the small shards of glass protruding from his knuckles.
"What the hell is wrong with you? You better pay for that! Ah hell, well, I suppose the company will pay for it, but this ain't a free ride, bub."
Marching up the steps, Demyx stopped, plunged his unscathed hand into a pocket, and threw some money at the perplexed man.
"You think you can just… A twenty?"
The driver stared at the bill before him. He hadn't eaten in a couple of days, due to all the bills he had to pay, but this money was too much for him to take. He turned his head towards the back, seeing the aggravated man sitting on the far right, second seat to the back. Demyx was staring at the back of the seat in front of him; his eyes emitting fire.
"Hey, don't you want your change back, mister?"
But Demyx kept his eyes forward, too determined to advert his gaze.
"Mister?"
No change.
Overcome, the bus driver tried to reconcile with the young man. Poor guy seems down.
"Where to?"
After all, Demyx was the driver's last customer, considering there were no more stops after this one.
Demyx's face softened into a detached form, allowing his body to rotate towards the dirty glazing. He watched his breath hit the glass and vanish, pressing his forehead into the windowpane.
Expecting no answer, the driver twisted his head back to the front, adjusting the mirror to choke the silence. His arm reached for the keys, ready to--
"Anywhere."
He revolved the keys to the right. Ready to drive on. No questions. No words.
And Demyx sat, seeing the city pass on, crying for the first time.
I despise this chapter, but it's here. I promise the next one will be better! I hope… Enjoy! By the way, Demyx somewhat teared up in the first chapter, but this is the first time he has broken down in front of anyone.
