Through a Mirror, Darkly
(AKA, "unoriginal title is unoriginal")
They were two pairs from two worlds. They might have appeared the same, but they thought they were too different to find any common ground. Until they were forced to work together. Zemyx, Dexion
Warnings: Yaoi, graphic scenes abuse, S&M, seme!Zexion and uke!Zexion, seme!Demyx and uke!Demyx (...don't ask), a fat load of weirdness and craziness overall. Please don't take any of this shit seriously.
Yaaaay, I'm updating really quickly on this! Probably because of the response.*
Finally, something interesting and vaguely plot-related happens here, and the two couples get some proper interaction. Which, I'll confess, is probably quite confusing pronouns and name-wise...u_u I was toying with the notion of assigning the couples from different universes different names of sorts, but it didn't feel right and didn't work with the kind of tightly controlled POV changes I'm using. You'll have to rely on the narrative voice of the current POV to clue you in on who is who. I'm trying to make it as clear as possible, but eh, there's always room for improvement. So please do tell me if a section doesn't seem clear on which Zexion or Demyx is narrating.
Too bad it's hella long. Or maybe not. I seem to be a terrible judge of lengths, since I thought the second chapter was longer than the first, and it was actually shorter. O_o
*Speaking of responses, that's part of the reason why I haven't updated my fictionpress for a while, because I go through all this effort to put up a semi-decent story on the site but no one reviews. I do consider the stories on there superior to my fanfiction, so this is an open invitation to check it out (username of "Bickazer"). Unless you're only reading my fics for the OMFG HAWT Zex and Dems smexing, which in that case all I can say to you is that I hope you go very far in life.
3. A Dimensional Discussion
If Zexion hadn't been busy running for his life, he would have thought that the city was quite an interesting one. Aside from that wide crumbling plaza, the rest of the city seemed to be made up of narrow cobbled streets between whitewashed buildings boxed up next to each other. It would almost have been picturesque if it wasn't so empty--climbing flowers hung from wrought-iron balconies, little cafes flashed neon "OPEN" signs, beaded curtains dangled in front of doorways, lights were strung between gently waving trees. There was a sort of Mediterranean, or maybe Carribean, feel to the city. Zexion kept expecting to see a stretch of beach around the next corner, but of course he wouldn't--he couldn't smell any of the distinctive salty presence of the ocean which was endemic to every seaside city.
And it was so empty too. This was the sort of place that ought to be bustling at every hour--people going about their daily business in the daytime, milling in the narrow alleys and spilling across the plaza; and during the night, people would come out to dance and share cocktails. But there was a conspicuous lack of anything living, not even a bird. Just him and Demyx and the two others, and the monsters...
He was getting a stitch in his side from running so much; he longed to collapse on his knees and wheeze and explain to the others that he was merely taking a break. But there wouldn't be any breaks, not as long as those monsters were chasing him. Those monsters with his and Demyx's faces.
This is a dream, this must be, he thought. But he'd never been much of a dreamer and his dreams were never this vivid. He could feel it all, the adrenaline coursing through his veins and the sweat stinging his skin and the burning of his muscles. And if it was a dream...well, that meant that on some subconscious level, he actually wanted to dominate Demyx.
Ha. A laughable thought. He might as well try dominating a tidal wave. Demyx was practically a natural phenomenom, something beyond Zexion's petty scientific comprehension. He did his own thing and Zexion had long accepted that, no matter how much it pained him.
"Hey! Hey, hey! Hold it, dammit! Stop, stop!"
Zexion whirled around, astonished. Was he actually ahead of Demyx? Sure enough, he saw almost three yards separating him from Demyx, who'd stopped running and was breathing hard, his hands on his knees; the other two had stopped behind him, both looking quite ill and tired. The other Zexion was supporting his nearly unconscious Demyx with an arm draped over his shoulder.
There were no monsters behind them. Disbelieving relief ran through Zexion's body, unknotting the tension that had gathered in the pit of his stomach.
"There aren't any monsters anymore," the other Zexon said, his voice a faint rasp. "We seem to have outrun them."
"Yeah, well, we can't run forever," Demyx said, straightening. "We've gotta find some shelter, somewhere safe to stay..."
Zexion couldn't argue with that logic. He glanced around the alleyway they were currently in. It looked identical to the others they'd passed through, and in his currently panicked state none of the buildings looked safe. He kept fantasizing that the flyers would break through the flimsy glass windows, or one of the huge zombies would punch straight through the plaster walls. But no, the monsters were nowhere in sight; his fear was illogical, born from basic flight instinct. As well as his current inability to sniff them out. Zexion didn't like being surprised because it was nearly impossible to surprise him, but now...he was as helpless as any human.
"We must find somewhere with an actual door," the other Zexion said, glaring at the beaded curtains blocking most of the doorways.
"Right, doors we can barricade and stuff, like they always do in the zombie movies," Demyx said.
Zexion, despite himself, snorted. "This isn't a movie, you idiot."
"Yeah, but the principle's the same," Demyx said.
"Principle, hmm? It's quite sad how you're putting your vocabulary to use by defending your choice of 'entertainment.'"
"Oh, geez, someone's pissy today--"
"Enough," the other Zexion said, his harsh voice cutting through their little lover's spat (though it was no different from most of their conversations). "Don't forget, we must find shelter."
His breathing was coming in short gasps and sweat had plastered his hair all over his face. He was covered with little scratches and bruises from his desperate fighting earlier. But he didn't appear in nearly as terrible condition as his Demyx, now slumped unconscious with his head resting on his Zexion's shoulder. Many of the needles had fallen out, leaving behind little bright red pinpricks like some kind of pox, but quite a few were still stuck into him. Zexion felt a tremor of disgust as he beheld the unconscious Demyx and the other version of him who had done this. He would never hurt Demyx like that. Never.
"Well...there's a door there," Demyx called from the end of the alley, indicating a tiny cafe in the corner of a four way intersection. "And this is one of those places where the store owners live--or would live I guess, since they're not here--upstairs above the store, so there'll be beds and showers and stuff like that. And clothes."
Zexion was quite surprised by how observant Demyx could be, but then again, most of the Nocturne's missions were of the reconaissance variety given his uselessness at fighting. He ought to be at least semi-decent at this by now.
Well, the promise of shelter and a shower was quite alluring to Zexion, and had to be doubly alluring to the other two. In unconscious agreement, they moved together towards the small building by which Demyx was now standing. The other two were rather lagging behind him, and a small part of Zexion thought that perhaps he should help his double support his Demyx. But just the thought of doing that made his skin crawl. He was fine with accepting that the other two were physically here, but touching them would be far too...much. It wouldn't be right to lay hands on a Demyx who didn't belong to him.
The cafe was small and low-ceilinged, but that was fine by the four who entered because none of them were tall enough to bump their heads on it (unlike, say, Vexen or Lexaeus). Navigating across the linoleum floor through the jutting plastic shapes of the round tables and their chairs was a little bit more of a chore. There were quite a few grunts and oaths, mostly from the other Zexion and Demyx.
Zexion already noticed that both of them seemed a little more outgoing, or at least more willing to talk, than him and his Demyx. He supposed that came from their relationship being somewhat more equal than the one he and Demyx shared...but he wouldn't have it any other way. He wouldn't dominate Demyx so if Demyx didn't want it, after all.
As the four made their way towards the cracked countertop on the far end of the cafe, they glanced around the room in wonder. Not that there was much to see in the dull half-light streaming in through the grimy windows--just the pitted floor and the dead flowers hanging limply out of little crystal vases on every table.
And the pictures. The walls were covered with little picture frames all crowding up next to each other, and displaying fading, mostly black-and-white pictures presumably from the cafe's history. The pictures gave Zexion pause. Shifting Demyx's weight to his other shoulder (that shoulder had started aching quite badly), he stopped in front of one of them, and stared.
It was...him and Demyx. Him in a stage magician's costume, top hat doffed in a bow, and Demyx in something that resembled what a minstrel cosplayer would wear to a Renaissance fair, posing with a mandolin. And the other pictures as well were the same, sending a thrill of uncomfortable familiary--yet unfamiliarity as well--shooting through his gut.
Him and Demyx, all of them. Not all dressed in the same, and in some not even the same age. He saw them as children and as adults and as bent old men (recognizing them only by their distinctive hairstyles), and in one particularly horrifying and baffling case, as a married couple cradling babies.
The others had stopped to stare as well, with equal measurements of wonder and horror. At length, the other Demyx spoke what had to be running through all of their minds:
"Ohhh-kay. Now, if this isn't totally creepy and weird."
"Let's just go," growled the other Zexion, stomping forward and avoiding staring at the wall with fierce determination. He pushed open the little swinging door dividing the kitchen from the eating area and motioned for the others to follow him up a flight of carpeted stairs just behind the countertop.
This was as good advice as any, so Zexion followed.
Demyx sprawled across the bed and unleashed a jaw-cracking yawn. He didn't think he'd ever felt so tired before...but it made sense, given everything that had happened. He vaguely wondered that if he fell asleep, maybe he'd wake up to a normal day in the Organization, and then he could laugh about his silly dream with Zexion.
But it was real, all right. The bed beneath him was solid (uncomfortably so), and the sheets quite scratchy against his skin. His sides were throbbing from having run for so long. Not even the most vivid dream could feel so life-like, he decided. Crazy as it all was...it had all been real.
"Why are they taking so long?" snapped Zexion, pacing irritably across the tiny room, his arms folded and a scowl dragging down his face. "I imagine by the time they're done there won't be any hot water left in the shower."
"At least there is a shower," Demyx said, doggedly trying to look on the bright side.
Zexion sighed and perched on the edge of the bed, crossing his legs in a quite feminine manner. The new Organization coat he was wearing draped around him like the wings of a bat.
Demyx had on a new coat, too. Much to the surprise of all four, the closets and wardrobes upstairs only contained standard Organization coats, boots and gloves (aside from one drawer which held a stage magician's costume and a colorful minstrel's costume). Some of them looked a bit different--they were more a dull dark gray than black, and had zippers shaped like Nobody symbols; the other Zexion had immediately chosen these ones for him and his Demyx. They were in the shower now, together, and it seemed the other Demyx had awoken since Demyx could now hear the soft patter of conversation through the steady hiss of water. He wondered sourly if that other Zexion was taking so long because he was fixing up his Demyx's injuries.
Your fault, Demyx thought discontently, rolling over.
But what a creepy place this was. So far, he hadn't seen anything living, or a hint of former life, that didn't involve him and Zexion somehow. Those monsters...the pictures...the Organization coats that fit them perfectly. It was all beginning to give him the heeby-jeebies.
The voices grew a little louder, so that Demyx could make out distinct voices.
"--glad I didn't hurt you too badly--"
"'Course, Zexion, you never hurt me...umm, well, not more than I can take. I know...umm...uhh..."
"Ah? What's the matter?"
"I know...I know you--you--you love me, don't you? You love me. So you wouldn't hurt me."
Love. Demyx's eyes shot wide open and something sickening twisted in the empty space in his chest. The space that he long refused to fill because he wanted to believe that he hadn't in fact lost everything. Hadn't lost his ability to feel...
A low little laugh, and then: "Of course. Of course I love you."
Demyx was aware of a sharp intake of breath from Zexion, but he didn't dare look at Zexion to see his reaction. He clung tightly to the scratchy sheets, sweat prickling on the back of his neck, a discontent feeling very close to anger rising in the core of his non-being. It wasn't right, wasn't right. Those two, the two who were involved in something clearly unhealthy and dangerous, couldn't possibly feel deeper than he and Zexion did.
He wouldn't accept it. But still the words rung in his ears, mocking him: I love you, I love you, love, love, love...
"So," Zexion said. "Now that we are relatively safe and cleaned up, I suppose we can now have a good long discussion about...about how all this came to be."
The four had gathered in the larger of the two bedrooms above the cafe, and we were sitting in a circle on the threadbare carpeted floor. It was quite uncomfortable and there wasn't much room; Zexion had wanted to hold it downstairs in the cafe proper, but the other two vociferously opposed this motion, stating that upstairs was safer. Demyx had to agree with them, and even found the courage to voice this to Zexion. Zexion had been terribly displeased in him, but in the end he recognized he was outnumbered and relented.
Demyx sat close to Zexion, close enough to squeeze Zexion's arm. Zexion obliged his unspoken desire for closeness by wrapping an arm around his waist. His touch was firm but gentle, and so delightfully warm...one of the many things that Demyx loved about him. He rested his head on his lover's shoulder, feeling oddly content despite the seriousness of their situation. He felt a lot better now that he'd been cleaned up and dressed; Zexion had even been kind enough to use one of his lexicon's stash of potions on him, so that the needle wounds no longer stung so badly anymore.
"What do you mean, how this came to be?" the other Demyx said, rather aggressively. "Like, how we came to get here? Or do you mean how this whole crazy ass world suddenly popped up?"
Demyx shuddered a little, hearing his own voice speaking with such harshness. He wasn't like that at all! Usually he valued getting along with other people more than anything. That was part of what led him to so easily accept Zexion's dominance--though most of that was simply because he loved Zexion.
"I think he means the former," the other Zexion said. "Although the latter is worth investigating as well. Certainly, it may explain how we ended up here in the first place, and what we can do about it."
"Yes, well," Zexion said, looking a little annoyed though Demyx couldn't say why, "we ought to focus on the former as of now."
The two Zexions, despite being so different, did talk in pretty much the same way, Demyx thought with a little bubble of amusement. All stiff and formal and never using a one-syllable word if a three-syllable one could substitute. Though he liked to entertain the notion that his Zexion sounded more confident, and the other one more whiny.
"We're clearly the same people...of sorts," Zexion said.
"Perhaps there are replicas involved somehow?" the other Zexion said.
"I thought that too," Zexion said. "It certainly doesn't strike me as above Vexen to do something like this--back when he was up to it, of course."
"What does that mean?" The other Zexion raised his eyebrow.
"Well, he doesn't do much of anything anymore--certainly you should know this--"
"No, I don't. As far as I know, Vexen is quite busy. When he's not badgering the Superior for support on his latest pet project, he's fiddling around in his laboratory. Many times he's caused some...interesting...things to happen in the entire castle. But 'it's all in the name of science' so it's justified. Or so he thinks."
"Hmm...that does sound like Vexen," Zexion said, rubbing his chin in his familiar thinking gesture--seeing it filled Demyx with an affection he couldn't explain. "Or rather, the way he was years ago..."
"Years? Wait--are you operating on a different timeline from us, perhaps?" the other Zexion said, leaning eagerly forward. "Yes, perhaps you're the two of us from the future--"
The other Demyx laughed loudly.
"What?" The other Zexion rounded on him. "It's certainly not beyond possibility--don't you love that idiotic musical about time travel?"
"It's a rock opera, actually, and well...maybe I can accept time travel, but c'mon, Zexy. You think we'll ever be like that?" He gestured lazily and contemptuously towards Zexion and Demyx; dislike spiked in Demyx's stomach.
"Yeah," he said. "I'm pretty sure we were never like you!"
Zexion cast him a disapproving frown which right about froze Demyx's insides, before turning towards the other two. "That's right. I have been with Demyx for years, and I can say for a fact that we have never been...never been the way that you are."
"And your Organization's called something different, right?" the other Demyx said. "Order something..."
"Yes," Zexion said. "We are the Thirteenth Order, and we always have been."
"All right then," the other Zexion said, scowling. "So you aren't time travelers. Then what...you aren't exactly like us, you know."
Demyx thought this was pretty much stating the obvious, and he would've pointed it out, but he didn't want to risk Zexion's disapproval again. The other Demyx felt no reservations about doing so, clapping his Zexion on the back and saying with a laugh, "Want a medal, Captain Obvious?"
Another sign of the difference between them. If Demyx had tried doing that to his Zexion, well...dear lord. He didn't even want to think about how Zexion would punish him for that.
"I didn't mean it that way," the other Zexion, looking peeved as he pushed aside his Demyx's hand. "I mean that aside from the...well, the obvious...there are other prominent differences between us. For instance, your coats. And the name of your Organization...and your weapons are different as well, are they not?"
Demyx thought about the weapons he'd seen those two wielding--much more rounded and simpler than the angular and intricate weapons he and Zexion actually used--and had to agree.
"So you're not perfect replicas, nor are you time travelers." Demyx was a bit annoyed at how this Zexion assumed that he and Zexion were the replicas; judging by Zexion's annoyed twitch, he was too. "That leaves only one option."
"And what's that?" the other Demyx said.
"I'd think that it's abundantly clear," the other Zexion, a slight smirk crossing his pale face--a smirk that hammered somewhere deep inside Demyx because it was so damnably familiar. "You two are from another dimension."
It made...so much sense.
Zexion didn't want to admit this, because he definitely didn't like this submissive and temperamental other version of himself, but he wasn't one to deny logic when it was staring him clearly in the face. It was a perfect explanation, really, which meant it only annoyed him more that he hadn't come up with it.
Apparently, both Demyxes didn't seem to think so. The other Demyx said in his loud and obnoxious way, "What the hell? That doesn't make any sense!"
His own dear Demyx tugged on his sleeve and whined, "Zexion, I don't understand..."
"Shh," Zexion whispered, placing a finger over Demyx's lips. Demyx got the message and drew away from him, though he was still fixing Zexion with that adorable look of confusion. He couldn't resist ruffling Demyx's hair affectionately; in due time he'd explain everything to his poor little lover.
The other Zexion did not seem to share this sentiment. "It is perfectly obvious, you fool."
"Maybe to you, but hey, remember that not everyone's a genuis like you! So why don'cha explain in regular talk for the rest of us?"
Zexion had to swallow down a snapped order for Demyx to shut up and stop giving him commands. This wasn't his Demyx. This was a Demyx who held the reins, as bizarre an idea as that was.
"How can you be so brainless?" the other Zexion said. "It's exactly as I said. These two are from a different dimension."
"But that's crazy, Zex. We've been to hundreds of worlds so far and, y'know, I think by now we'd have found this other Organization, Thirteenth Order thing, whatever, if they were really from another dimension!"
The other Zexion drove his palm into his face and muttered something that sounded an awful lot like an expletive. Zexion, however, couldn't get angry at Demyx even if this was a less-than-perfect alternate version of his perfect lover. Demyx's cluelessness was always so...endearing. Sometimes it frustrated him, but mostly it made him love, and want to protect, Demyx all the more
Since the other Zexion didn't look like he wanted to explain anytime soon, Zexion spoke up--for both the other Demyx's benefit, and his own. "You are confusing 'world' with 'dimension.' Or should I say, 'universe,' if that helps it make more sense."
"Huh? What? What?" A vein was twitching in the other's temple.
"Zexion..." Demyx said, tugging on his sleeve again. "Please, explain this...I'm sorry, but I really don't understand."
"That's perfectly all right," Zexion said, offering him an indulgent smile. "Now, listen." He was addressing both of them now. "We do not travel between universes. I presume that your 'Organization' is no different. You go to different worlds, yes, but they are all worlds within your universe, not separate dimensions."
"Think of it like...like...like marbles in a jar," the other Zexion said. "The worlds are the marbles, but the jar is the overall universe. Naturally, this isn't a perfect analogy."
"But it works for our purposes," Zexion said, encouraged that the other was actually helping. "We can only travel to the marbles--the worlds--within the jar, but not outside of it. It's of my understanding that Vexen, back when he was up to such things of course, was interested in figuring out a way to travel through the barriers between the universes--the glass separating the two jars from one another. Of course, he didn't succeed, but it seems...it seems that we have."
All this talk about marbles and jars seemed to be finally sinking into the Demyxes' skulls. His Demyx nodded first, in an endearingly bird-like gesture. "Yeah, I think I get it. So we're...we're different versions of each other, basically? Um, from different universes? And maybe there are a lot of different versions of us out there..."
Zexion's eyes traveled involuntarily towards the framed picture hanging above the bed--a copy of the one of the stage magician Zexion and Renaissance minstrel Demyx. Perhaps they had been this cafe's previous occupants.
Perhaps...perhaps every picture on the cafe walls depicted a version of him and Demyx from another universe.
The thought made shivers run down his spine; he worked hard to suppress it. Yet it pleased him as well. So he and Demyx had a bond so deep that it transcended universes. Perhaps that was the natural way for the both of them--to always gravitate together, no matter what. No matter the different kinds of relationships they ended up cultivating...
"And we always end up together," the other Zexion said, voicing Zexion's thoughts aloud. "Hmm...I wonder what that means?" He addressed this slyly towards his Demyx.
"It doesn't mean a damned thing." The other Demyx stood up sharply, his expression colder than any Zexion had ever seen before--especially from Demyx, of all people. But no, this wasn't the Demyx he so loved... "Okay? So they're other versions of us, all right. But that doesn't mean anything. There's no way I've got anything to do with those freaks."
"Demyx--!" shouted the other Zexion.
"Hey, take that back!" Much to Zexion's surprise, Demyx surged to his feet as well, glowering at his double. He looked more livid than Zexion had ever seen him before.
"I won't," the other Demyx said icily. "'Cause it's true. Now, I'm gonna go to sleep. Don't wake me up until next morning."
"Demyx, you--there's no point to antagonizing them, we must work together--" his Zexion shouted, trying to grab the other Demyx's arm to keep him from leaving. The other Demyx threw his grip away with a look of disgust, before giving his Zexion a sharp push that sent him colliding into the bed.
"What was that for?" he shouted.
"G'night, Zexy," the other Demyx said, offering him a sarcastic wave before slamming the door shut behind him.
Everyone else could only stare.
Hopefully, the alternate universe explanation made sense. That's always been the way I thought of the KH universe, but it may not be exactly canon. By this point the canon's become so hopelessly confusing that I wonder if there even is a set "canon" anymore.
Said rock opera that seme!Demyx mentions is Broken Bride, by Ludo, a truly epic story about a man who builds a time machine to bring his wife back to life. Of course a one sentence summary can't give any justice to such a haunting and beautiful story, so go check it out on Youtube. ^^ Not to mention it's some frakkin' good music. And a less obscure reference is the entire city taking inspiration from Citagazze in His Dark Materials.
Future updates will be much slower in coming. I have an Academic Decathlon tournament this Friday and I need to study very hard for it if I hope to perform semi-decently. So no updates until...maybe Sunday, if you're lucky.
Again, comment on the crack as you wish.