Hello, there, dearies!

I'e decided to break up chapters into digestible slices, so that you won't toss your visual cookies from reading them.

This part goes a little further into Axel's personal life, and that of his best friend, Demyx, and their incredibly complicated relationship (though this one part barely scratches the surface).

Warnings: Kisses and implied sexual favours between two men; violent outbursts.

Disclaimer: This is not intended for those without a mature, open mind. I do not own, have never owned, and do not claim legitimacy (that my stories are canon) for any of the following characters.

Please remember that feedback is appreciated!


Chapter 2, Part 1- We Were Meant to Live


"My life sucks."

Pluck.

"Your life sucks not."

Pluck.

"My life sucks."

Pluck.

"You're life is actually pretty great."

Pluck.

"My life su-"

Demyx wrenches the daisy I had in my hands and stomps it into the ground with his well-polished, gold-painted heel, the crushing force twists and tears the delicate stem and petals into one unappealing smudge of chlorophyll and dirt. He turns his head back up to me, his perfectly practiced puppy grin back in place. I've been the only person to ever see behind the outward glee and gaze into the relentless malice that Demyx de Agua has for this world.

"What, may I ask, has driven you to such depression?" he asks me, his voice threatening (well, threatening once you learn to peel away the layers of sugar he coats it in). He takes my face in his hands, now walking backwards through the garden, leading me blindly.

"Woxthath." I mutter out of mashed-together lips.

Demyx's eyes sparkle with curiosity as he lets go, quickly dragging me to the side and shoving me against the trunk of a craggly-looking weeping willow.

"New patient?" He pauses when I don't respond. "New LOVER, then?"

There is a dangerous edge to his voice, and I find myself waving my hands to signify that it is anything BUT that. I'm not scared of many things in this world, but I've learned that you don't piss off someone from the de Agua lineage. They have a very, very nasty habit of helping people disappear, whether they like it or not. If you catch my drift.

(And I've seen Demyx fight before. I can run, but without the help of then bottles of chloroform and a lighter, I don't have a snowman's chance in hell.)

So I follow up my hand gestures with a fervent "No! No...New patient."

He looks at me incredulously, and it takes a further five minutes of convincing him that there is absolutely nothing going on between Roxas and I.

The dark blonde tugs me down with a strength that few have ever had the displeasure of bearing witness to. Most of them because they were having their faces rearranged by a pissed off lunatic that looked like he was trying to catch butterflies rather than give them all permanent beauty marks.

"Spill." he commands, all pretense of his cheerful-idiocy erased.

I sigh and begin:

"It happened this morning. I was supposed to do a mental evaluation of Roxas Strife so that I could figure out how to go about treating his...Illness...

IllnessES, begging your pardon.

"Anyways, so I went into his room right? And he's sitting there on the floor, talking in this really tender way to himself- It sounds like he has two fucking voices or something, I swear to the holy mother in heaven, man. So I go up to 'im and try to get his attention, and he's babbling so fast and in such an emotional way that I can't understand or get through to him. "

Demyx nods, and I can see the cogs working in his mind, via his eyes- like how you KNOW that there's tons and tons of creatures in the sea that you'll never even see, but you know it's there, because...Well.

BECAUSE, okay?!

"What happened then?"

"Then, I nudged him, and he sort of made this keening noise, like a dog makes if you kick it, but it's too weak to fight back or growl. So I nudge him again, and he kind of stands up this time, swaying back and forth. And I can tell that he really wants to move his arms beneath that straight jacket, because they're twitching right in front of me, right?

What happened then is that I waved my hand in front of him, and he stared at it blankly for, like, thirteen seconds before he sways up to me and k-"

I stop short, but Demyx is unabashed about filling in the blank.

"He kissed you."

"Y-yeah. Well, I kind of jumped, and he knocked me back and knelt over me, and kissed me again, still murmuring. He said something about being the 'lesser half' and kept saying he was sorry, REALLY sorry, and trying to kiss me. I pushed him off anyways, and uh... I hit him.

Don't you look at me like that, de Agua, you've done worse, and you bloody well know it-" he shrugs with a noncommittal smirk "- but anyways, he just fell back, and looked up at me in this heartbreaking way, like he'd just lost his best friend or something. I swear something re-broke in that kid. Seriously. And he went real quiet, and wouldn't talk after that, so I had to leave."

Demyx sits back on his heels as I finish my story lamely.

He looks heavenward.

"Was he pretty?"

"Well, yeah, I mean, as far as mental cases g-OI!" I punch him on the shoulder.

It would be a big no-no if he weren't my best friend, but as he is, I am exempt from scorn at this playful gesture, and my face stays in its natural alignment.

"Whatever, oh princess of the flaming queers." Demyx laughs, popping up. His mask flies back on when he notices a nurse, Zexion, walking through the garden, pouring over a book in a language that I'll never be able to read.

"Don't you mean 'Queen'?" I ask him briefly, which allows him to snicker.

"You're not fierce enough to be a queen, love!"

I'd yell at him, but my friend is already ten feet away, chatting up Zexion.

I can't hear what they're saying, but I get a rough read from their faces- Zexion's, at least. Demyx's puppy routine doesn't fool our little bookworm, oh no. I can see him backing away unconsciously, his eyes narrowed and suspicious, paler than he normally is (which is saying a lot. I think that making him walk outside for an hour like our boss commands every day could be justifiably settled in court as cruel and unusual punishment). I've got twenty pounds to any man who'd be willing to say that the poor little nurse wasn't about two steps away from making a bolt for it.

But Demyx leans closer, taking Zexion by the waist, brushing the purple hair from his eyes. I know that he's making a comment about their extraordinary silvery-blue. Probably something like 'The rain catches in your eyes, though the sun shines upon you...How exquisite.', because Demyx is so rich that he basically worries about poetry, parties, and killing people that wear frock coats he doesn't care for.

Their faces come closer, and my palms go sweaty.

Why?

Because they lean their heads just-so, and their eyes shut, and the ground falls out from beneath me, because Demyx is kissing him, and Zexion is kissing Demyx back, and- Jesus Christ on a crutch, this shouldn't be HAPPENING.

As that thought screams out in my mind, I think that some sort of warning bells go off, because Zexion makes a strangled little yelling noise and slaps Demyx, and then yells something in a language that I'll never be able to SPEAK, let alone read, and I see, for a split second, a look of anguish and pain glide over Demyx's painfully beautiful face. It's sliding back into a mask of unperturbed happiness as he walks back over to me.

I open my mouth to say something, but shut it when he looks at me, all the pain and anger there ever was in the world flowing like a rip current in his eyes.

There's a moment of silence before he suddenly jerks back his arm and punches the weeping willow.

Suddenly, I have to jump to the side, because the splintering wood flies everywhere like bullets, and the thin-but-thick tree falls back onto the ground, bark stripped away at the point of impact.

Demyx stands there for a few moments, his hand in the air (with splinters hanging out of his knuckles, mind you). He sighs, rubs his face, and then pops back up and smiles in an extra-freakishly-mental way to me, nigh blinding me with his smile ('nigh'...See? Just hanging out with poets makes you start using retarded words).

"Axel..." he leans towards me, lessening the smile a little to make the oh-god-don't-eat-me look disappear from my face, as I know it's there. "Let me spend the night with you."

I begin to protest, but he looks at me with the most worn-out expression, and it reminds me of Roxas.

In fact, I think Demyx is what happens if you DON'T treat cases like Roxas properly. They learn how to write poetry and become a Demyx.

"Please."

I sigh, caving. His voice is too broken for me to do anything but, because I know that him using it in such a public place can only mean that he actually needs to let something out, before it turns into violence.

After all...Demyx would do anything to avoid living up to the de Agua name and becoming a mob-boss, like his father.

"Fine. But I have to work with this new patient, so I might be gone until later on an-"

I look up and cringe.

His mischievous smirk is back in place, and the taint of impishness sparkles in his eyes again.

"Let me come with you."

"No."

"Pleaseeeee...?"

"NO."

"I'll do that thing you like."

My face heats up involuntarily.

"NO!"

Demyx slings an arm around me and brings our foreheads together, his eyes intently focused on mine.

"I'll do that thing you like AND smoke some opium with you."

I sigh heavily, knowing that he's not going to stop until he gets exactly what he wants. He's exactly like Luxord, his father.

And...

"You're exactly like my patient, you know that? You're an adult version."

Instead of being put off, he pulls me closer, giving me a sultry, almost comedic expression. I am acutely aware of every dip and curve of the body that's pressed up against me.

"Does that mean I'm pretty?"

"No..." I lie. His smirk grows.

"Does that mean I can kiss yooou?"

"NO."

"Oh, Axel..." he smirks, throwing me to the ground, right next to the shattered tree trunk.

Before I can catch my breath, he's straddling me again, that sultry smirk on his face, lips red and face flushed from his encounter with Zexion.

I realize that he's still hurting pretty badly underneath that expression. Just because I'm not caught in the rip tide doesn't mean it's gone.

With this thought, I realize that he needs to prove to himself that someone still wants him. In that moment, I realize that I could shatter him by just turning my head away.

It's such a sad thought that I don't turn when he kisses me.

I kiss him back, because in that moment, I know my duty as his friend. He needs this to prove that he has a reason for existing. Roxas probably has the same need.

The world is so lonely for people like them.

So we lay on the grass, limbs akimbo as the lazy afternoon sun beats down on us, bathing us both in a golden glow.

We lay there and kiss, and forget about our lives, and our pasts, and the bark fragments that are sticking into our bodies like we're pincushions.

Because in that moment, we know that we were meant to exist.