YAY! Next chapter! You all ready? I said ARE YOU READY?! Okay then! READ AND REVIEW!
Chapter Two: Two Feet
Most of the Organization was gathered in the commons, enjoying their small vacation for that night. Demyx sat in hidden agony, joking with Axel and Roxas and hurling insults at Vexen. He was at ease with everything in the world, except the thing that was farthest from him – Zexion, who sat in a large armchair nearby with a monstrous black book. How a person sitting two feet away in a large black armchair could be so far away baffled Demyx. But that was Zexion: silent, enigmatic, hypocritical. Inches between but miles apart, and he had made that transparently clear.
Demyx sat back from the conversation and let his eyes slide over the silver bangs and icy eye. It was clear that Zexion would shut him down every time, that he would walk away from conversations, that he would ignore advances when he used to enjoy them. It was crystal, but Demyx chose to disregard things that were clear, because they were often wrong.
Easily, he could remember when VI has been his crush, his small distraction, his "I could tap that" joke. But it had turned greater, tiny trickles turning to a downpour. Zexion was Demyx's reluctant muse, a shadow of a greater passion, in denial and out of reach. That small body made Demyx boil. He wanted that skin against his, that hair on his pillow, those eyes staring up at him, those lips against his ear, and that velvety tone ringing in his head. All he wanted was Zexion – even just his knee brushing awkwardly against his own.
But Demyx sat on the couch and Zexion sat in his chair. Miles and inches apart. Love against apathy, Music falling on deaf ears.
For a split second, Zexion's silver eye strayed away from the book, and was caught in Demyx's cerulean. The two paused, breathing ceased. For that fracture of a second, they touched, no matter how much Zexion fought. Even though the silver eye flew immediately away, a small pink budded over his pale cheeks. Demyx was conquered again, and he smiled, knowing that a few notes of his profession had gotten through. After all, what was love without a chase? Miles and inches – it all depended on the map.