Disclaimer: NO OWNERSHIP. AND NOW I SHALL GO CRY OVER THIS FACT.
Chapter 2 is here and ready. And i literally got depressed writing this. the *character* (you shall find out soon) was so hard to write like this...
The next day, as he headed out for a mission, Zexion noticed that something was missing from the common room. It took him a while, but eventually, he pinpointed the problem.
It was silent.
There was no music being played from the collection of couches. In fact, no one was even t the couches.
"Where's number IX?" He asked Saix, who was in the middle of giving him the overview of the mission.
The blue-haired man's eyebrows shot up. "On a mission," he replied shortly.
Zexion almost choked on the air he was breathing. "He – what? A mission? You mean to tell me that our 'residential slacker' is actually doing work?"
"You don't believe me? Then where do you suppose he is, then, if not on a mission?" Saix looked at Zexion, as if daring the younger man to contradict him.
Zexion shook his head. "It's not that I don't believe you, it's that I'm shocked."
Saix turned, signalling the end of the conversation.
Just as Zexion put up his hand to create a Darkness Door, his superior's voice rang out behind him.
"And just so you know, you're not the only one who's noticed the change." A pause. "I've asked everyone this: Did something happen between the two of you last night?"
Zexion contemplated on telling the truth, but something in the back of his mind told him to keep the incident private.
"No. Everything was normal."
When Zexion got back, everything was back to normal. He stepped into the common room to find Demyx lounging on one of the couches, strumming his citar, and Axel, Roxas and the puppet, Xion, were standing off to the side talking. Saix, as usual, was hovering in the shadows, glowering at everyone. All the other Organization members were scattered throughout the castle, who knows where, doing who knows what. Except for Marluxia – Zexion had a strong feeling that the pink-haired man was either admiring himself in a mirror, or showering everything around him in pink petals. Or both, Zexion wouldn't be surprised.
Zexion could almost forget something was different. Almost. But Demyx wasn't playing with his usual loud lack of control. He was sitting there, his slightly depressed face turned downwards.
Zexion felt a twinge in his gut. He tried to ignore the reason, but couldn't. He missed the other man's happy abandon.
After a week of missions, Zexion still hadn't gotten used to the new Demyx. Hadn't gotten used to the lack of music, the deep penetration of silence all over the castle. Hadn't gotten used to the lack of whining whenever a mission was assigned. Hadn't gotten used to the silent Demyx, lounging during his spare time, looking more and more depressed every time Zexion saw him.
Something was wrong with the man – he was becoming more emo than Zexion was.
And so, deciding one night that something had to change, he went down to Demyx's room.
When he got there, Zexion saw that the door to the citarist's room was open, and the moonlight from the window was spilling into the hallway. Peering into the room, he saw that it was empty, save for the abandoned citar in the corner.
Realizing Demyx must be in the kitchen for a midnight snack, Zexion headed further down the hall, leaving Demyx's room behind him.
His assumption was confirmed when he heard a soft, faint humming coming from the kitchen.
"Demyx?" He called out into the room. The humming stopped immediately. He stepped through the doorway, frowning. "Why'd you stop?"
"Stop what?" the response was quiet, no energy to it whatsoever.
Zexion raised an eyebrow. "Your humming."
Demyx turned around, his back now facing Zexion. "Sorry. I – I won't do it again." His shoulders hunched.
A quizzical expression formed on Zexion's face. "You know that when someone asks you why you stopped something, you're supposed to answer the question, not apologize, right?"
"I – I know. Sorry. I just… I figured you didn't want to hear me singing. After all you did say I was too loud…" Demyx's voice wavered, and Zexion wondered if it was actually all his fault the blonde standing before him had been miserable. "Didn't want to hear you singing? Demyx, do you realize just how quiet it's been this past week due to your lack of music?"
The said blonde turned, facing Zexion. "Yes, I realize that. Why do you think I stopped?"
Zexion was taken aback by the man's logic. "Demyx, I never said I didn't like your music! You just automatically assumed my comment about the quietness was thanking you! Honestly, if I wanted quiet all the time, then I would have holed up in the library a long time ago." He threw his hands up in the air, exasperated. "Whatever. Just… stop acting all depressed and everything, okay?"
Demyx looked at the slate-haired man, startled. "But… I thought… you liked it when I'm not jumping all over the place." Zexion shook his head at the assumption.
"No. I – I don't really know why I didn't like you. Actually, yes, I do. I think it was the fact that you were too out there, too much the center of attention. I've always been an introvert, a bookworm. I never thought I could become friends with someone with your personality."
Demyx looked sadly at Zexion, his eyes stinging with the beginning of tears. "That's what I figured." He turned around, his body language clearly saying to leave him alone to sulk.
Zexion felt a distinct pang in his chest at the sight of the other man in pain. At first, he didn't understand why, but then the realization struck him, making him blink in surprise. No way, he thought, dumbstruck. It's not possible. We can't –
He stared at Demyx, now sitting against the wall, facing away from him. But the position couldn't hide the fact that his shoulders were quivering. Nor could it hide the quiet sobs emanating from the hunched form.
Silently, Zexion moved forwards and knelt beside the crying man.
"Demyx, I have to confess something. Something you might want to know before you go back to emoing in the corner."