Wake Me Up When You Remember
Chapter III – Trust Me If You Remember
"If he can't wake up soon, he will be stuck in his dream forever."
"And how do I wake him?" Zexion frowned. It didn't sound good.
Aerith looked unsure on a split second, but finally said: "You have to kill him."
Zexion's eyebrows laced together in disbelief. "No," he spat. "How do I know you're telling the truth? I don't know for sure if he's going to wake up if I kill him."
The woman smiled at him, as if she had expected such reaction. "I know you're a smart boy, Zexion." She exhaled and said, "Well, to put it simple, I've experienced it myself."
"What do you mean? You're stuck here?"
"Worse." Her fragile smile faded from her lips. "It was too late."
"What the hell?"
Zexion sat stright on his bed, panting. He slowed his breath down, trying to collect his thoughts... his dream.
If people were glad to be woken up from a bad dream, Zexion wasn't. In fact, the dream had created its own terror in his awake world. What if Aerith was right? What if he didn't wake Demyx up, it would be all too late? And Demyx would be... dead?
What if?
Should he trust Aerith?
With his mind filled with what ifs, Zexion decided to carry on and did his daily routine, went to college.
"Hey, Zexy!" The familiar greeting with a wide grin and a hand waving enthusiastically was directed to Zexion, which the teen welcomed warmly by giving his signature small-but-convincing smile. Zexion wasn't exactly focused that night, or even excited with his meeting with Demyx.
Few nights had already passed. It would all felt so quick if what Aerith had told him didn't bother him to the point Zexion couldn't have an actual rest from sleeping. And it was only getting worse by nights.
Demxy seemed to pick the mood and asked, "Something's wrong?" The steel-blue haired teen sat next to him and the sandy blonde moved closer to him.
"No, everything's fine, Dem." Not sure, Zexion had decided not to bring the problem up, at least for now.
"So," Demyx started, his curious expression quickly changed into a bright smile, "I figured you might be bored with this view—the fountain and empty village, I mean—so why not we walk somewhere else?"
Surprised with the offer, Zexion raised his eyebrows. He didn't feel bored, though, because all he needed was Demyx to keep talking and he wouldn't get tired of it, but the idea of seeing Demyx's world further wasn't bad at all. "Sure, why not?"
Demyx stood up and grabbed Zexion's hand and then he started walking, followed by the latter. The baby blue sitar had been left near the fountain, much to Zexion's surprise because Demyx and the instrument were inseparable, but then he thought there wouldn't be any thief after all. He also realized that it was way more comfortable to walk together holding hands with one other hand available rather than having the huge sitar.
"I really miss this place a lot, you know." Zexion hummed in lieu of respond. "The last time I was here, the village, I mean, was when I was 8."
"Were you visiting your grandparents or something?" The other teen asked, his face facing downwards, glancing at his right hand which was laced with Demyx's own. Since when he became comfortable with touching people?
"I used to live here since I was born and we moved out to the city. But yeah, my grandparents live here, for the record."
Zexion then lifted his head, slightly upward because of the blonde's height. His expression was different than usual, kind of difficult to be deciphered.
"Why did you move, then?" Still staring at Demyx, he felt the taller teen slowed his walking pace.
"Let's just say something bad happened," Demyx answered.
Zexion felt like wanting to ask more, but maybe it wasn't the right time. He didn't want to ruin the mood: it was really calm and peaceful on that part of the village. More houses—old, but looked strong and charming—were starting to fill the area as they walked further. It felt like walking inside a fairy tale, a story book with beautiful images on it.
"This is such a pretty village," The shorter teen remarked, a tinge of excitement found in his voice.
"I know," Demyx chuckled, "we can't find this in town." The pair walked a bit further, and then approaching a house which stood still just before the dense forest, indicating the end of their way. "This was where I lived. Let's get in."
The house was a two story, just like most of the houses in that village. The walls were painted white; some molds seemed to have grown on the lower part of the wall, while the other part of the wall was covered in vines. Potted plants were filling the garden, various kinds of flowers blooming as if they had been watered every day, despite the fact the village was empty (other than Demyx's friends who only came to listen at Demyx's sitar solo, of course.) The blonde had already proceeded to open the short gate which creaked as it swung open. Demyx then beckoned Zexion and they both got in, with the latter still looking around in astonishment. It wasn't everyday he could see a house like that.
"You like the garden?" The sandy blonde's half shouting voice startled Zexion from his awed state.
"It's gorgeous. I've never had any plants; no one likes gardening at my home."
Demyx laughed. "Well, considering your father's busy with the store and your mom away to office and then their only child going to college, no wonder no one has the time to do some dirty gardening."
Zexion chuckled in response: "Sounds about right."
Both boys walked to the front door. It was quite a small door, made of wood and the paint was already fading off. Demyx turned the rusty knob and the door opened easily, as if welcoming them inside. Deeply and slowly, Demyx inhaled the air.
"Smells like home," he said, almost whispering. For Zexion, it smelled like a warm air of freshly baked vanilla waffle with cinnamon on top. Maybe that was Demyx's definition of "home".
The house was quite a vast one, very spacey and comfortable. A classic fireplace, made of rock, was on the right side with a sofa facing towards it. An old rug with dusty green color was on the wooden floor, sprayed in front of the sofa. It must've been the living room, Zexion thought. On the other side of the room was a kitchen, with utensils which more likely to be used for pastries. There appeared to be a few rooms as well and also bathrooms. On the far side, there were stairs.
"My room used to be next to that stairs," Demyx pointed his finger at the said stairs, "but then my grandparents kinda have trouble with going up and down, so I had to move upstairs."
"You liked your new room?"
"Yep, it was quite big. It covered half of the floor, after all." Looking at Zexion, Demyx then smiled and took his hand again. "Let's see my room."
Led by the taller teen, Zexion and the former walked together, climbing the stairs. Up there was Demyx's room, low ceiling, fully bathed in sunlight and surprisingly no smell of dust (because it was in a dream?) A tiny bed was put against the wall, dark blue blanket covering it messily. Toys were scattering on the floor, but creating a pathway to the bed; Demyx must've been lazy enough not to put them back in the box without wanting them to distract his way to the bed. The thought made Zexion chuckle, imagining young Demyx playing with all kind of toys here: fire truck, super hero figures, little piano which worked with batteries and other toys he had never seen in his life. Despite living in the village, Demyx's family seemed to have spoiled him with these toys which could only be acquired at town.
"You sure did have a lot of toys for a boy who lived in village," The shorter teen teased.
Releasing his grip on Zexion's hand briefly, Demyx walked towards the bed. "Yeah, my dad bought a lot of them, as if they could replace him." The last few words gave Zexion a clue about Demyx's family: it wasn't pleasant.
Trying not to sound too curious, Zexion added, "Well, at least you still have your mom and grandparents, right?"
Demyx sighed, his lips forming a sad smile. "My grandparents are nice," and that was all. Zexion thought that something must've happened to his mom, but he didn't dare to ask about that, so he'd just let it be.
The blonde teen sat on the bed, and it wasn't creaking like an old one, as if it was brand new. Zexion sat next to him, just like most of the time: he followed Demyx everywhere and sat next to him, as if trying to convince he would always be there for him. And, just like usual, Demyx tugged on the other teen's fingers until they loosened and he slipped his hand inside Zexion's own, intertwining them.
The proximity Zexion experienced there was different than when they were sitting by the fountain: even though he knew it was only dream world, it still felt like he had some privacy there. Leaning in, Demyx closed the gap between them—almost. Their lips were close, but never met, only an inch apart. Zexion froze in his place, holding his breath, until Demyx shifted his face and then kissed the other teen's cheek; delicate and long enough to make his heart almost stop beating.
"I like you, Zexion," Demyx whispered, enough just to sip into Zexion's ear, which was close to the speaker's lips. "You're... special."
Still in mild shock, Zexion didn't say a thing. He just smiled.
The blonde continued, "It feels like I can trust you." Demyx lifted his hand, caressing Zexion's cheek which he just kissed. It felt dry and rough but Zexion didn't mind. "I really hope I can remember you if I can actually wake up."
Zexion placed his hand on Demyx's own. "Promise me, if you actually wake up, bring me pink Carnation."
"Why the flower?"
"Just do it for me, Dem."
Rather than listening to his professor, Zexion caught himself thinking about Demyx. What in the world could've happened to him? Biting his pen, the teen knew that college was almost over. He just only needed to wait for the bell... and it rang. Quickly, he grabbed his bag and made his way home.
It was about 3 pm when the steel blue haired teenager had arrived home. The sky was painted red, a bit cloudy, indicating rain later in the evening. He had gone to the library to find anything about dream world and voices in dreams as well as sleeping phases, but none of them actually helped him.
The teen entered the small-but-not-too-small building with a huge sign saying "The Castle Instrument Store" (smaller writings saying: "we sell and accept second hand instruments. We also repair your stuff"), a place that he called "home". Zexion had just entered the front door (an "open" sign hanging on the door, right before his nose—he didn't like the placement), where he saw his father standing just behind the counter. Right in front of him was a pink haired man, carrying a quite large instrument, covered in leather cover.
"Just a quick regular check up, sir, making sure everything's okay, and that's it. It hasn't been used, after all," The pink haired man said.
"Alright, it'll take 3 days, no more than that, young man." Zexion's father replied. He then opened the cover's zipper, revealing a guitar-like instrument. "How old is this sitar?"
"I think it's, like, 4 years old? I'm not sure, it isn't mine. It's my friend's."
"Looks like he takes care of this baby nicely, not even a scratch on it." The old man chuckled.
"I know, he really loves this thing. Won't even let me touch with dirty hands," the younger man laughed.
Zexion walked closer, only to find something he had seen clearly before—a baby blue sitar. It was oddly familiar he was pretty sure he had seen it before.
Wasn't it Demyx's? The one he would play every time Zexion came to his dream? He squinted his eyes and saw the sitar's detail. The color, shape, it was all the same.
Quickly, Zexion grabbed the pink haired man's shoulder, making him turning his face to him.
"I'm sorry, whose sitar is that?"
"Excuse me?" The man looked startled, backing away a step.
"Zexion, it's no way to greet our customer." Of course, Zexion's father wasn't pleased by the behavior.
"Sorry, but I've seen it before." Zexion gulped a hard lump in his throat—could this be true? Now that he had a good look on his father's customer, it struck him. He had seen this man in Demyx's dream: he was one of his friends. "This sitar—it belongs to Demyx, right?"
A/N: We're getting somewhere and I think this fic won't last long? 5 chapters, it is. I guess.
