A/N: Another reasonably timely update? What is this?

It's Day Seven is what! We are now officially one third of the way through Trains and Sewing Machines. This chapter is a little – er, insane. But it's Zexy, so what else?

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~ Phobia (life is like a speeding car – sometimes you have to BREAK) ~


For a long, blissful moment, Zexion stared and didn't feel anything at all. He stared at the woman on the other side of the door, his mother, petite and with a veritable mass of blonde curls that cascaded over her shoulders. Only when he looked at her did he realize how closely he resembled his father; a small part of him prayed that he wasn't really her son, though he knew that this was unrealistic. There were pictures to prove it.

"Zexy!"

The moment she spoke, cold rage flooded his mind and body. His blood suddenly seemed to be coursing through his veins at absolute zero.

"Zexy? Say something."

"Don't call me that." He said, his tone as icy as when she had told him not to call her mother.

"I'm your mother and I will call you whatever I feel like. Can't I come in?"

"No."

"But don't you love me?"

"No." He said again. "I haven't loved you for many years."

She growled. It was a low, feral sound, and if he hadn't know better he wouldn't have believed it could come from such a small woman. He had hardly an instant to comprehend what the sound meant before she lashed out; her nails struck his face and ripped three even gauges into his cheek.

"That's no way to talk to your mother." She said. Though her tone was falsely sweet and slightly stern, as if she were reprimanding a child, the words and feeling were venomous. Viper, he thought. She cracked her knuckles and he was certain she would strike him again. She placed her hand on the side of his neck in a way that might be perceived as gentle and loving, and stood up on her toes to whisper in his ear.

"Why don't you love me?"

He felt her nails – those terrible, biting, acrylic weapons – tear through the soft flesh of his neck slowly. He closed his eyes and wondered if she was going to take make literal the phrase 'go for the jugular', pictured her digging and searching almost surgically for that vein and -

She cried out suddenly. His eyes flew open. She was several feet away from him now, and Larxene stood between them, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Stay the hell away from him." She said, and slammed the door. Larxene, who had always maintained that he should be kinder to his mother, that they should make up. Zexion was stunned. Larxene was nearly panting with anger.

He walked away and went into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator door. His heart had kicked into double (triple) time, and for one surreal moment he thought he wouldn't be able to catch his breath again. Perhaps, he thought, he would hyperventilate and fall, spin slowly into some dark place, unraveling – although he was certain that he was unraveling already.

Deciding to forego cranberry juice, he slammed the door shut and unscrewed the cap from the bottle of vodka he kept on the counter. He drank it straight from the neck and hardly winced at the acrid taste. Lord, but that burn was good. He slid down to sit on the kitchen floor with his back against the cabinets.

It was only a moment before Larxene cast her shadow over him. He expected a witty remark about how achingly pathetic he knew he must look, but instead he received:

"Holy fuck, Zex, you're bleeding."

He was. He knew he was. He could feel red ribbons of blood sliding slowly down his face and neck, could see the bright splashes on the white tile floor.

"Shut the fuck up." He muttered. He fumbled for a cigarette with shaking hands and after some time, longer than it should have taken, he managed to light it, and looked up at Larxene over the burning ember.

"Let me clean -

"No. It's perfectly fucking alright." He snapped, and took another swig of vodka. The look in her eyes was so truly sympathetic that he couldn't bear it, and if she would just stop looking at him, god, stop looking at him like that he thought that maybe he could pull himself together and stop thinking about it. About the way his mother had show up. Her toxic presence. How Larxene had stepped in and defended him as if they were actually friends instead of two people living together and splitting rent, trading favors.

He drained the bottle of its last drops of alcohol and stood up. "You'll have to get some more vodka." He said. He tossed the empty bottle across the room. It hit the wall and shattered. He stood up, retreated into his room, and locked the door, leaving Larxene to clean up the mess.

.x.

It was the kind of morning in which he woke up itching for a cigarette before he even opened his eyes. His sleep had not been peaceful, or dreamless. Instead it had been filled with the monsters of memories, simple things picked at and twisted until they were mutant ghosts haunting his sleep.

He reached for the pack by his bed, blindly pulled a cigarette out, and lit it; only after a few drags did he find the strength to open his eyes. It was 7:27. The morning light seemed unforgiving.

Axel will be here soon, he remembered suddenly. He sat up and forced himself out of bed. Ugly streaks of dried blood – a reddish brown in color – stood in contrast to the gray sheets and violet pillowcases in the place where he'd laid his head and neck. Both were sore, and he was fairly sure that he couldn't hide the wounds with some skillfully applied makeup.

A glance in the mirror confirmed this. The part of him that was arrogant and narcissistic cringed – even once he washed away the blood, he was left with three harsh caverns carved across the smooth landscape of his face. The injury on his neck was more painful but less noticeable. He covered it with a black turtleneck.

He didn't feel like seeing Larxene, so he sent her a text message: you don't have to give me a ride this morning.

Almost as if on cue, there was a knock on the door. Zexion jumped despite being certain that it was Axel.

And he was right.

Axel, whose knock was loud and demanding, stood on the other side of the door, dressed in frayed jeans and a faded band tee.

"I see you've dropped the hooker gear." Zex said calmly.

"It's daylight, y'know. What the hell happened to your face?"

"I'd rather not discuss that." He said. Hearing the darkness in his tone, Axel pressed no further, and was uncharacteristically silent as they walked to the car. It was an old Honda Accord that seemed to be made of chipped paint and rust; the headliner was falling down, held to the roof by a few strategically placed staples, and burn holes from cigarettes littered the whole interior. The ashtray was overflowing with butts.

Zexion climbed in after Axel had reached over to unlock his door. He hadn't expected the quiet to last any length of time, so he wasn't surprised when Axel pressed play on the cassette played and flooded the car with the sound of Nirvana's Nevermind. He sighed and took out a cigarette. I should cut back, he thought briefly as he lit it, then, No. Fuck it.And next to him, Axel was wailing to Lithium.

"I like it, I'm not gonna crack!" He sang at the top of his lungs. His voice wasn't unpleasant but the words struck something somewhere deep inside Zexion, and he reached over, cutting the sound.

"Hey, man, what –

"I don't like that song." He said softly. "Besides, we're almost to the hospital…"

"Okay, yeah, cool." Axel said. They arrived at Castle Memorial just a few moments later.

"Good morning, Zex!" Kairi chirped cheerfully, which made his stomach churn. "How was your –

She stopped midsentance, her expression suddenly stunned and horrified with traces of that god-awful sympathy.

"What happened?"

He stalked past her with Axel dogging his heels. He changed into uniform, and paid no attention to the stares he received as he led his companion up to Demyx's room. It was still unbelievable to him that the two should know each other, but he thought he shouldn't be so surprised. After all, had he expected that Demyx, an AIDS patient, had lived a normal and sane life? If his math was right, Zexion deduced that Dem had been diagnosed when he was fourteen. He found himself wondering what Demyx's life had been like, what legacy he would leave behind.

Stop it, he snapped at himself.

"This is the room." He said when they had come to a stop outside of 669. He pushed the door open.

"I brought you a visitor, Demyx."

Blue eyes widened in surprise and – shit, was that fear? Zexion wondered suddenly if he'd made a mistake by bringing Axel. But when he let Axel into the room, Demyx's expression changed completely. His pale lips pulled back into a smile, his eyes lit up, and he quickly pulled himself into a sitting position.

"Ax?"

.x.

Axel settled into the chair next to Demyx's bed. Zexion had left, claiming that he had other things to do and promising Demyx he'd be back to read to him within the hour. It was definitely strange to see the kid dressed in clinical white from head to toe; the hospital was the last place he would have expected to see Zexion working. He could see him as a patient, yeah, a suicide attempt (a thought which surprised him, when had Zex ever done anything to indicate that? But Axel felt that Zexion was deeply unhappy, unhappy enough to purposefully find himself on the wrong end of a gun). But, as a volunteer? He didn't get it. Even as community service.

"Wow, Axel, I'm so – like, whoa, I mean – I'm really, really happy that you came, but – how did you find me? How did you know I was here? Did…he tell you?"

Axel shook his head. "No. I haven't seen him in a hell of a long time. Zexy out there is a friend of mine. He said something about you, and – yeah."

It was nice to see Demyx again. It had been so long. But he hated, truly hated, the circumstance of their reunion, the disease eating someone he had once been very close to – he could remember back to when Dem was just a kid. Before AIDS, when Demyx's cheeks were rosy and full of laughter instead of pale and gaunt. He wanted to ask how he'd been, but it seemed pretty obvious. He looked at his friend and just hated it.

He found himself speechless. Demyx noticed.

"You're being quiet, Ax. Do I look that bad?" He grinned. "You're always saying something."

"Yeah, you know how I much I love to hear the sound of my own voice."

"You really do. But hey, don't let my, uh, condition deter you. Tell me how the hell you've been."

"Well, let's see…I've got my own apartment now. Shitty little place, but it's mine, or at least it is as long as I'm paying rent. Uhm…I've gotten pretty decent at play my guitar, got an old pieceashit Honda, had a couple girls and boys here and there but it never really worked out. That's like, the past four years in a nutshell."

"And you haven't talked to –

"Naw. Saw him once like two years ago. He came up to me and patted me on the back, you know, the 'son, old buddy, ol' pal' routine, and I'm like yeah, great, you were like our dad or something but I'm kind of busy right now, talk to you later. What about you? I mean –

"He comes into visit me sometimes. Well. Rarely." At this, Demyx's normally cheerful expression became disturbed, dark, sad. His brows pulled together as if he were trying to think too hard about something. It made the sight of him worse, more horrific – when Dem was smiling it was easier to overlook his sunken face… "I think it's just like, an obligation or something for him."

"Aw, Dem, cheer up. He's a bastard, right? We don't need him. I'll come see you all the time, okay?"

Demyx smiled again, which made Axel smile, too. He'd never considered himself the most reliable of guys, but he knew he'd keep his promise and visit Dem. Often. It wasn't fair that he wouldn't even give the blonde the time of day, even when this was undoubtedly his fault.

.x.

Zexion entered the room an hour after he'd left Axel there, just like he'd said he would. After seeing how happy his patient had been, he'd stopped thinking that he made a mistake. He'd been sorely tempted to eavesdrop with his ear to the door, but had tried to force himself not to care about what they were saying and besides, he'd look ridiculous if Kairi or Sora happened by.

"Okay, well." Axel said, "I'll leave you two alone, where can I –

"Roxas is in the cafeteria."

"Which is?"

"First floor, follow the signs."

Axel leapt up, long legs eager and green eyes alight with the prospect of talking to a cute blonde. He stopped at the door. "Bye, Dems." He said. "I'll be back soon, okay?"

And in the next instant, he was gone. Zexion sighed heavily and eased himself into the chair Axel had just vacated. He stared at Demyx and Demyx stared back. With one thin hand he reached out and touched the gashes on Zexion's cheek. He said nothing. His eyes were soft.

For a very long time they sat there, just like that, silent. Too silent, too still. If it weren't for the pulse fluttering like mockingbirds beneath the skin of Demyx's fingertips, he would have wondered whether he was still alive, wonder if the patient had died before the remaining time allotted to him.

Touch was a powerful thing.

Violent touches, tender touches, the absence of any touch at all. These things could change a life. At the present moment, beneath Dem's touch, he felt something rising up in his chest and threatening to choke him out. He wanted to pick up the book and read and lose the feeling. But he found himself paralyzed.

"What happened?" Demyx finally asked, voice gentle.

"My mother." He said. Once again he was horrified by how soft and broken his voice sounded. He didn't explain anything. But the look in Demyx's eyes seemed to say that those two words spoke for themselves. Zexion cursed himself for being so honest. But in that moment, with the light coming in through the window and underneath the most tender and compassionate of touches, he found that he did not need to lie.

.x.

Axel was surprisingly kind enough to keep the radio off in the car. Zexion didn't say anything, but he wasn't sure which was worse: the sound of the music or the sound of his own thoughts. Much to his alarm, the horrible, choking feeling hadn't left when he departed from Demyx's room, and it remained as he sat in Axel's car.

Fuck my life. He lit a cigarette. The feeling did not subside even after several hard drags. He felt something wet stinging his eyes and he blinked furiously because everything in him rebelled against the idea. Not that – and he couldn't even pretend that his thoughts weren't panicked, desperate – No. No.He hadn't cried since he was very, very young.

"How…did it go with Roxas?" He didn't particularly care, but he would do anything to prevent those tears…

Axel smiled. "He's cute. A little shy, but it's kind of totally fucking adorable, y'know? The way he looks up at you through those lashes….mmm. It's divine. I got his phone number, so."

"That's…good?"

"Fucking great. And it's not like I just sat there hitting on him for an hour, we actually talked, he's got this really interesting theory on – hey, man, are you okay?"

To Zexion's horror, the wetness had welled up and was threatening to spill over. He struggled to speak, to answer Axel, but he opened his mouth and the foundation on which he'd built his life dropped out. A sob tore from his throat instead of the words he'd hope to speak. He felt like he was falling. Like the world was ending, an apocalypse in his small body, Armageddon in his head.

Axel stared, his mouth open. He had no idea what to do about the kid having a mental breakdown in the passenger seat of his car. He'd known from the day they'd met that Zex would go off his rocker, but he'd never thought it would happen so suddenly….and in his car. Zexion seemed like he would suffer ailently and privately. Not so openly like this.

"Zex, give me your cell phone."

The sobbing boy fumbled for his phone and handed it to Axel, who began to search through the contacts. What had the kid said his roommate's name was? Lucky? Larceny?

"Fuck." He muttered, trying to search faster.

Larxene.There, that was it. He pressed the call button and waited; it rang three times before she answered.

"What?" Her voice was sharp and cold and seemed to be made of it's own static electricity.

"Larxene?"

"Who the hell is this?"

"Uh, okay, hi. My name's Axel –

"Oh, you're the guy that Zex has been -

"Yeah. Look, about Zex. He's kind of having a small mental breakdown in my car right now."

"Fuck!" She yelled. His spine tingled at the sound, as if she had struck him through the phone. "I'm at fucking work. Look, just take him to the apartment – I'll get there."

.x.

Axel met Larxene at roughly 3pm when she entered the living room of her apartment, while Zexion was curled up on the couch in a tight ball. For one moment their eyes met, but she looked away and walked right over to the couch.

Her presence was like her voice, electric and unforgiving. He wondered what it would be like to feel her underneath his hands, moving, rocking.

He'd always had a thing for blondes with blue eyes.

.x.

I don't want those bad things to happen to you, too.

Too late. Too fucking late, Demyx, didn't you know that it was too late for me? You knew everything, you had to know

(slick red blood all over pristine tiles, everything so - )

You had to know, why did you do this to me? And now I'm – I'll never come out of this, nothing has ever hurt so -

(and red blooming bright against blonde ringlets, everywhere - )

bad, Demyx, it is painful, so very painful to do this, my -

(his father standing over her, eyes foggy and burning with rage)

heart is breaking my heart is shattering

(she was going to kill him that night)

I can't

(until his father - )

I like it, I'm not gonna crack -

( - cracked her skill and she's bleeding it's everywhere - )

I kill you, I'm not gonna crack

(and he wonders if she's going to die)

Bad things are happening, have always happened, and I

(packed his stuff and left the house)

can't do this anymore, I am such a

(showed up at Larxene's doorstep while the paramedics took his mother)

coward, I am a fake and a liar and a fool, I am

(and told her not to ask any questions)

Nothing.

(started drinking)

I am

(until he passed out on her kitchen floor)

Nothing

(And she put him into bed and held back his hair and he pretended that it never happened, just another night, been drinking for a while now and nobody put him in bed or held back his hair before and if his mother thought it was weird that he was passed out on the floor or sick a lot she pretended that it wasn't)

I am nothing.

(and a month later he had gotten drunk and wrapped his car around a light pole)

I am nothing

( he doesn't remember if he was trying to die.)

I am nothing.