Now... I had gotten pretty stuck on where to take this... but I'm a bad girl. I'll have to up the rating on this I think. Heh.
Really, if you ask me I think that Demyx would be more of an example/tactile learner than most people... and Saïx would probably be more theory/abstract based, and well... if you're trying to teach a tactile person an abstract concept, it won't really help them all that much. Music theory can be explained in example, but it's a very, very abstract concept... I should know.
Alright, enough of my whining.
--- EDIT! ---
Beta'd by the ever amazing Mousewolf. Go give praise and love. Yessss...
Demyx is daunted by the keys. He fears them, but Saïx is patient.
He gently places the Nocturne's fingers and tries to get the blond to pay attention. He speaks in theory, but Demyx speaks in example, so it's like trying to mash the wrong puzzle pieces together, and the first snide comment by the Berserker drives the Musician completely away.
Saïx follows at a distance, but Demyx is not one to be stalked. He takes a corner and he's gone. Saïx, accepting defeat, merely goes back to what he was doing before, but this time, his - whatever, something - is not in it and it comes out bad. Terrible, even. He sighs and plants his forehead firmly on the keys, blunt and annoyed and discordant. It's just not right when the Musician isn't here to egg him on.
He lays there for a moment, unsure of what exactly he wants. He's never sure, so like an old dog, he uses those techniques: the stroll-back-into-the-room-where-you-realized-you-wanted-something method, the stare at the ceiling method, the pacing-until-there's-a-hole-in-the-floor method. He tries it all and it still won't come back and he's actually really frustrated now.
As quiet and deliberate as the beast slumbering inside him, he finds himself retreating up to the Alter of Naught, watching the sky sparkle with the heatless diamonds that taunt him, the sliver of Cheshire-cat smile that peers down at him with such unreadable malice.
"I'm sorry…"
The words are soft, slow, but it's impossible to not recognize the speaker. He tenses, intentionally. "You shouldn't worry about it."
He can feel the boy's expression – brow furrowed, frowning only slightly more than pouting. "I know… but I made you mad. I didn't want to do that."
"I know. I don't hold it against you."
Warm hands on his shoulders, pulling him back against a strangely lukewarm body, then the arms that loop loosely around his shoulders, a hug of sorts. He doesn't know what to make of it so he simply stands there, not daring to breathe. He turns his head just a little to look, feels the Nocturne's lips brushing against his ear like a mist.
"You're cold…"
Saïx has to force himself to take a breath, feels a terrible hot blush burning across his cheeks. "I… always am."
"I can fix that…" the blond chuckles, suddenly losing every inch of foolishness that would have made the Diviner think of him as an idiot savant. He was suddenly bearing the true nature of the sea: the shallows that spread for miles and then suddenly drop off into incomprehensible depths.
"Demyx?"
"I've been wondering… about this."
A hand searches down into the opening of the Berserker's coat, gloveless, dexterously pushing past the material of the lining, a shirt, came to rest gently over the place where a heart, only in name, throbbed softly. He presses his hand down, his hot palm almost uncomfortable against cold porcelain-white skin.
"It's naught but the physical mechanism that keeps these shells alive," Saïx explains.
"Then why does it beat faster when I'm around? It does, doesn't it?" Demyx persists, "Because if it's always beating this fast, that's not good for you, darling."
"Demyx… you've put me in quite the uncomfortable situation. You can't expect me to be perfectly calm at a time like this."
"Well… maybe it's just me… but every time I see you, it hurts. My heart hurts… and I want you so desperately to stay."
There was a long silence.
"When you say we don't have hearts… I just think you're full of it, and it makes me want to prove you wrong."
Demyx suddenly released him and started quickly down the steps, nothing but the click of his boot heels echoing down the steps to ever suggest he was there.
And there the Berserker stands like a statue, that place on his chest feeling like an ice-slick now. And in his head, the rapid pounding of a song he's never heard before. He takes a moment to compose himself, fingers playing an invisible instrument for long minutes that seem to drag past endlessly. He smiled. Relief.
"Thank you, you idiot."