And, it is done! ^-^
This chapter is a bit shorter than the last two, but I think it gets it's point across well enough. There's also- *gasp*- relationship movement! (If you squint...).
Full Summary: Demyx is your average rookie detective, hoping to make a difference, but what happens when a new murderer emerges and Twilight Town's only hope lies within the hands of a convicted killer? A convicted killer whose heart seems as black as the pit he's dug himself into. Can Demyx find the murderer before it's too late, or will that convict steal his heart?
Rating: M for future things to come, language, and violence.
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies. I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this work, nor do I own the games and movies from which they came. I do, however, own the plot and would perfer not getting robbed.
Now, I would like to thank those of you who reviewed, favorited, and alerted; it means a lot to me.
I would also like to thank my beta for this chapter, writesinthunder.
Hope you enjoy! ^-^
It was like watching a glass shatter against hardwood floors. It was abrupt. It was callous. And it was loud. The only difference was that it was not a glass; it was someone's entire world shattering, breaking down around them, making way for the cascade of tears and the bitter truth that the death was random, that it didn't really have to happen at all. It was not like the breaking of a glass because it was emotionally painful. It was not like the breaking of a glass because it couldn't just be thrown away and forgotten. It was not like the breaking of a glass because it was a real human being on the other side of the mirror, crying their eyes out and beating their fists against the steel tabletop.
And it hurt.
It really hurt.
Zexion had never been a compassionate human being; he had never really cared about anything that didn't directly pertain to him. Was that selfish? No, it was simply his way of coping with the world around him. Did watching this girl he had only just met cave into herself and cry, cry, cry destroy him on the inside? Yes. Watching her bury her face in her hands and sob literally destroyed him.
He didn't want to watch anymore.
Freedom be damned, he really didn't want to watch anymore.
"You okay there, buddy?" The male in question nodded, eyes blank as he leaned against the mirror separating him from the interrogation room where Demyx was busily trying to comfort the poor girl, a look of pure guilt in his eyes. After he had led Demyx to the interrogation room where Rikku and Paine were already waiting, Zexion had come in here to watch from a safe distance. If he were being completely honest with himself, he would say that he had never been so thankful for being restricted from interacting with the family and friends of the victims. Since he wasn't, he was just glad that he wasn't in the same room as Rikku, because he had never been good with dealing with tears. "You sure about that? You don't look so good."
"I'm fine, Axel." Zexion breathed, his warm breath fogging up the glass, creating a perfect little 'O'. Sighing with his shoulders slump, he turned towards the redhead detective, watching with hawk-like eyes as the man scrutinized his every movement. It was different than it was with Leon. When Leon looked at him, it made his skin crawl, because deep down he knew that the man was just waiting for him to slip up, just waiting for an excuse to send him back to prison. With Axel, it was different. The two of them weren't on the friendliest of terms by any means, but they weren't enemies. And, when Axel looked at him with those too-green eyes, it made him think that the man was concerned for him, like he actually sort of cared, even if it was just for Demyx's sake. "Why would you think otherwise?"
Axel snorted, rolling his eyes before scribbling some notes down on his more and more present clipboard. "I don't know. Your face is pale, your eyes are shallow, and you look like you're about to break those fingers of yours." The younger of the two quickly dislodged his fingers from one another, ceasing his constant knotting, slightly embarrassed at being caught. "What? Did you think I wouldn't notice? I'm a detective, Zexion, and you do that all day long. How effective would I be if I didn't even realize something as simple as that?" He asked cockily, not even bothering to look up from his clipboard at the slightly reddened cheeks of the criminal. In all honestly, he hadn't even really realized that he was doing it again; it had become a bit of a habit since he'd left Hollow Bastion.
"You wouldn't be." Zexion answered simply. Axel laughed that deep, throaty laugh of his, standing and stretching his long lanky legs as he walked up to the smaller of the two. The criminal literally flinched, his deep blue eyes widening as Axel ruffled his hair, causing it to skew about, revealing both of his eyes for just one fleeting moment.
"You know, I'm really starting to like you kid." And, then he was gone, his retreating footsteps echoing hollowly off the walls.
And, Zexion really didn't understand people.
K3YBLAD3
"You know, I think you should eat more." Demyx informed him dully, taking a hearty bite of his leftover take-out. Zexion grimaced at his food, scrunching his nose up in a way that was not unlike a small child shunning their vegetables.
"I don't see why you should care." He said emotionlessly, more playing with his food than eating it. Of course, it wasn't completely his fault that he was like this. He'd grown up in an upper class family eating five-star meals that were prepared and served in a near meticulous manner. Even while in prison, his meals were prepared and served at set times and, while they were far from amazing, they were always prepared correctly. This was different; he'd never had to eat leftovers before. Who knew the taste of grease could actually get worse as the days passed?
Demyx rolled his eyes. "Why shouldn't I care?" He retorted, watching the criminal through his concerned oceanic eyes. "You're a part of the team now, you know? You need to keep your strength up. Besides, you're skinny as it is."
"Just because I'm a temporary member of your detective team does not mean that it's your job to take care of me; I can do that myself." Zexion smirked, an idea sparking in his head as he leaned across the table so he was less than half a foot away from the blond. "Moreover, I don't think you should be worried about anyone else until you learn how to take care of yourself."
Dirty blond eyebrows furrowed, causing those blue eyes of his to narrow in just the slightest way. "And just what is that supposed to mean? I can take care of myself just fine."
Zexion scoffed, resting his head against the palm of his hand. "Of course. If turning yourself into a hypocrite is your primary goal, then you're doing rather well in my opinion."
"Don't start that again; I told you, it's different with me." He sighed, watching as the criminal's one visible eye darkened in a way that made him feel like a bug that was waiting to be squashed.
"Oh, yes. I realize that to you it's completely different, but logically it's exactly the same. Wouldn't you agree?"
"No. I wouldn't."
Zexion sighed, rubbing at his temples with his one free hand before using it to stir his rapidly cooling leftovers. Demyx was…thickheaded. Extremely thickheaded. "Yes, it is, Demyx. Yes it is. Before you answer, think about it. You listen to everything that everyone else has to say. You listen to their problems; you fix their problems. It's just what you do. Then, when you have a problem, you completely ignore it. And don't say you don't, because you've already proven that you do and it would just make you even more of a hypocrite than you already are."
Demyx's lips compressed into a thin line as he watched Zexion languidly bring a forkful of greasy noodles to his mouth, sliding them in and chewing with growing distaste. In a way, even Demyx had to admit that he was right. Completely and utterly right, really. It was just that he liked helping people. It kept him moving; it gave him a purpose in life. If he didn't have anyone left in the world to help, than he wouldn't have anything left to live for. His problems were trivial in comparison to those of the people he met every day. Why should he worry about them if there was someone out there who was hurting a lot more than he was? He shouldn't.
At least, he didn't think that he should.
Sighing, the blond leaned back in his chair, two legs balancing him and keeping him from falling. "Maybe you're right." He mumbled almost inaudibly as he stared at the ceiling, and Zexion couldn't have been more pleased. Suddenly, the chair came back down with a crash, a leer set firmly on Demyx's lips as he leaned over the table towards the younger. "I've been wondering though, does all this pestering mean that you actually want to hear my problems? That seems unlike you."
Zexion's cheeks reddened and he idly wondered why he hadn't thought of this before. Why would he care? Why did it matter to him if Demyx was running about and wearing himself down for the sake of others? Why did that bother him as much as it did? "Don't—don't be ridiculous."
"Oh, and why is it then?" Demyx asked, his filled with false sweetness, that leer still set in place, seeming oddly correct stretching his lips in such a way
Biting at his lips and knotting his fingers together on the table in an almost vicious manner, he rushed to come up with a plausible excuse for his unexplainable behavior, struggling to keep his voice steady with his cheeks blazing in a way that he had never felt before. "If your mind is elsewhere, it'll be difficult for you to focus on the case, which, in turn, could lead to me being sent back to prison; I think I have a right to be a bit concerned."
Demyx laughed at that, leaning closer so that the two of them were nearly nose to nose. "You don't mean that, do you?" He breathed, the moistened air sliding over the smaller's rosy cheeks.
Zexion quickly decided that he rather disliked this side of the blond.
"I—I mean… what I said was—" Zexion attempted to justify, ending up a stuttering mess as Demyx migrated back to his side of the table, a genuine smile on his lips as he raised his hands in surrender.
"Sorry, sorry." He laughed, blue eyes alight. "You don't have to answer that if you don't want to; I just couldn't resist."
And, he was back. He was exactly the same as he always was: happy, caring, and considerate. It was the strangest thing, watching a person change from one personality to the other in less than a second and then revert back to the original like it was all just some game. In all honesty, he was a bit shell-shocked by it all.
"Uh, Zexion?" Demyx asked, concerned and looking much like a kicked puppy. "I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I mean, I guess I could have stopped myself I had really wanted to, but…" His voice trailed off as he took a deep breath, watching Zexion from across the table, his visible eye wide as if he was still processing what had just happened. "So…do you want to know what's been bothering me?" The blond questioned, attempting to get a response out of the criminal.
He blinked, shaking his head as if to clear it before nodding. "I would like that." He said in a voice that was barely audible, pulling his knees up to his chin and hugging them to his chest in a way that was much like a frightened child. It was like he really didn't know who he was dealing with anymore, like Demyx had stepped over some nonexistent line that separated the two of them and there was no turning back.
"Okay." The blond rested his elbows on the table and knitted his fingers together in front of him. It took him less than a second to realize that Zexion was watching those fingers, his eyes calculating. "It's nothing; really, it isn't. It's just the case, you know?"
Zexion shook his head, his fringe slapping at his pale cheeks. "No, I don't know. The case is rough on everyone, but it's really bothering you. Specifically, I don't think it's the case; I think it's the people involved in the case."
Demyx smiled lightly, his eyebrows rising in a way that would have been amused if it wasn't for the dark humor behind his thoughts. "I always knew you were a smart one." He mumbled mostly to himself before continuing. "Yeah, it's the people. You know that girl at the station today, Namine?" Zexion nodded. "Yeah, well, I've met her before. I met her and her sister on my first day here; they were part of the first group that I interviewed in order to gather information about the first killing of the police chief. She didn't talk very much. Honestly, she gave off the vibe that she was kind of shy and let her sister do most of the talking. And, I mean, she didn't say much— hardly anything at all, really—but she seemed like a good kid. Well adjusted, sweet, pretty…all those adjectives that make you like a person, and…I guess I just don't like seeing people like her go through stuff like this.
"She's just a kid. Kids…kids shouldn't have to go through this kind of thing, you know?" The blond sighed, rubbing at his face like a hopeless man in order to relieve some of the unnatural strain.
"They shouldn't." Zexion mumbled, staring down at the table somberly, thinking about everything he'd ever done wrong, about everything he wished he hadn't done. He was just a kid back then. Just some stupid, gullible kid that thought they had found someone who would care for them. Where was his childhood? Where was his life before all of this? Nowhere. Meaningless.
His life was nothing.
"And, then, those others—Rikku, Paine, and Yuna—what happened to them was my fault. They'd just taken a wrong turn, and, if it wasn't for me, they probably would have left town once I'd given them directions. They would have gone back to Traverse Town and found somewhere to sleep there. But, no, I told them that to stay safe they should find somewhere to stay for the night. How stupid was that?" Demyx asked rhetorically, pushing his oddly styled hair out of his eyes, those blue orbs of his desperate. "I knew there was a killer on the loose! Why on earth did I tell them to stay?"
Zexion sighed, unwinding one arm from around his legs and tapping his index finger lightly on the tabletop, attracting Demyx's attention. "So, you're saying that Yuna's death was your fault, correct?" He asked, watching the blond's shoulders slump as he nodded. Zexion shook his head. "That doesn't make any sense."
"Yes, it does. I told them to stay. I'm the reason they didn't leave town. It was my fault."
"Fine, then. If that's the way it is, then maybe we should go have a talk with Leon."
Hesitantly, Demyx watched Zexion unfurl and stand, walking towards the door and shrugging on his jacket. "Where are you going?"
"To speak with Auron, of course. I may be a convicted killer, but you're the one who killed that girl, right? You're the one who cut her fingers up and left her in the freezer, right?" Zexion alleged, his hand resting on the doorknob. "Auron might as well come and arrest you if that's the case."
"Wait a minute! That's not what I meant!" The blond stood his palms flat against the table, his eyes wide. "I killed her figuratively, not literally!"
"Oh?" Zexion smirked, leaning his back against the door and knotting his hands behind his back as he faced the blond, one cobalt eye gleaming innocently. "But, that's what you said, isn't it? You said it was your fault."
"Well, yes, I did say that. But, I'm not the one who actually hurt her!"
"So, you admit that you didn't actually hurt the girl, correct?" Hesitantly, the blond nodded, feeling very much like he was walking into a trap. "Oh, so now you're saying that you simply suggested that those girls find somewhere to stay for the night, as a just-in-case?"
"Yeah. That's exactly what I'm saying." And, even Demyx knew when he'd been caught in the spider web of logical thinking that Zexion so enjoyed.
"You do realize that those girls could have easily not heeded your warning and left, correct? That they could have left right then and that girl wouldn't have died? And, realizing this, you must also realize that those girls could have chosen a different street to walk down, that they could have possibly walked closer together down that very same street and nothing would have happened?"
Demyx sighed, sitting back down heavily with sad oceanic eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Trust me, I get it."
The criminal smiled, sliding his coat off his skinny arms and making his way back over to the table where the junior detective sat so dejectedly. "So, as you can see, there are too many variables for you to conclude that those girls stayed here solely because of you. You didn't literally hurt that girl—"
"Yuna." Demyx corrected, causing the younger of the two to smile inwardly at the blond's undoubtedly caring behavior.
"You didn't literally hurt Yuna, therefore you cannot be blamed for the girl's death; it's as simple as that." Zexion stated, taking back his previous seat across from the blond.
The two stayed completely silent for a while, Demyx staring down at the table and Zexion twirling his now cold meal around his fork in a way that said that he wouldn't be eating another bite any time soon. Since it had become apparent that neither of them were willing to speak, Zexion stood, collecting their paper plates and throwing them away before he made his way to close the curtains to the window that overlooked Twilight Town. Just as he was about to reach for the plush fabric, Demyx grabbed his arm, his grip light but demanding; Zexion had to resist the urge to flinch and pull away.
"Yes, Demyx?"
"Thank you." He whispered, his voice seeming to vibrate against Zexion's pale skin. And, then…then the pressure on his arm was gone and Demyx was crawling into bed, his hair hiding his face from view.
Zexion had never felt so empty in his life.
K3YBLAD3
"Who are you?" It was a simple question; one asked with a steady voice that held no regrets. He knew what was happening. He had no doubt as to what would become of his life in just a few fleeting moments. But, that being said, after every good thing he had done for the world over the years, he thought that he at least deserved to know the name of the man who was going to kill him.
The man above him smiled, clicking his tongue in the same manner one would use while disciplining a small child. "Now, now, why should I tell you such a thing? It's not like that information could help you, you know. I'm still going to kill you, whether I want to or not."
Graying eyes sparked at this, the gears turning faithfully behind those eyes as everything the man was saying began to fall in to place. "You don't want to kill me, do you?" At this the man shook his head, continuing to run wires from one outlet in the room to the computer that he was sitting in front of. "If you don't want to kill me, then why are you doing it?" He asked, not a trace of malice in his voice. It was like this last little piece of information would tie everything together in his mind and allow him to rest in peace.
"You control the darkness." The serial killer said simply as he finally finished creating his rig and pushed his victim towards it. "And the darkness isn't good." He continued as an afterthought, as if trying to make sure that he really understood what he was doing, since his last victim did not.
"I see." The soon-to-be deceased smiled, letting his eyes slide closed as he was stopped directly in front of the computer, entirely content with this turn of events.
"Type." The order was whispered into his ear and, even though he knew what was about to happen, he saw no way out of it. He was just thankful that he would be destroyed by the very thing that paved his entire life.
So, he tapped the keys and let whatever was going to happen happen.
K3YBLAD3
"No…"
It was just one little word and, though it was whispered in a voice that was barely audible, it screamed to be heard. It screamed of despair. It screamed of pain. It screamed of suffering.
And no one could stop it.
Shaking, Roxas stepped forward, extending his arm as if he was going to help the man who they all knew was beyond helping. In the corner of the room, seated in front of the company computer, sat Tron, Roxas' mentor and friend, burnt and fried to a proverbial crisp. He was the picture of death, a singed sort of smell permeating the atmosphere and bringing Roxas to his knees.
He couldn't stand this. The man who had taken him under his wing with no persuading, the man who had laughed with him and shared stories as well as advice was dead. Absolutely dead. There was no bringing him back. He would never smile again. He would never laugh again. He would never scold him with that loving twinkle in his old eyes again. He would never do anything ever again.
So, he cried. Roxas hid his face in his hands and sobbed, right there for everyone to see. His sobs weren't loud and overly dramatic. No, his sobs were silent and subdued, paying a remorseful tribute to his former co-worker.
Above him, farther away from the body, the rest of the team stood, huddled as they watched the scene unfold in front of them. Roxas looked heartbroken and damaged, all curled on the floor, crying his eyes out like a young child, and the team could do nothing but watch. Silently, Larxene and Riku moved away from the group and towards the body of their former computer specialist.
"This entire room is now a crime scene." Leon managed after a long, long time, his eyes saddened. He had known Tron since the very beginning of his career and now the man was gone. Completely gone. "Don't touch anything without gloves on. I want Tron out of here as soon as possible. Get me anything you can: pictures, writing, thoughts, anything. If you so much as think that something is out of place, you let me know about it, understand?" Then, without further prompting, the majority of the team dispersed. Sora passed out the gloves and grabbed the camera and they commenced the ever-present search for evidence. Drawers were opened, pictures were taken, and Tron's body was slowly hoisted out of the room and sent down to the morgue. After a time, Axel managed to coax the honey blond out of the room and lead him into the hallway, where he allowed the boy to cry into his chest until he couldn't cry anymore.
And then there was nothing but the heart wrenching sobs from the hallway to lull the team into action.
K3YBLAD3
"Good afternoon, sir. I'm here to investigate a string of murders that have recently been committed in Twilight Town." Demyx recited almost electronically, holding up his badge for the old man in the doorway to see. The man's wrinkled blue eyes widened and he quickly stepped aside, allowing Zexion and Demyx entry into his spacious home.
"Right this way, then." He gestured to a room on the adjacent to the foyer and led them inside, taking a seat in one of the plush leather couches while gesturing for them to do the same. Once he was sure that the two young men were situated, as was polite, he cleared his throat and spoke. "Murders you say?"
The dirty blond nodded, fidgeting in his seat. He wasn't at all comfortable in a home built like a fortress with furniture that probably cost more than his entire measly apartment. In reality, he would much rather be back at the station analyzing the crime scene with the rest of the team. That, however, was impossible because Leon had given him direct orders to take Zexion and interview Ansem Wise, the author of the books that started this whole mess. And, no matter how much he wished to be somewhere else, he wouldn't defy a direct order; it just wasn't the way he was. "Yes, sir. So far, a total of nine people have been killed."
Ansem gasped, leaning back in his chair as if he was appalled, his house coat billowing around his age-worn wrists. "Nine people have been killed? I had no idea." The man fell silent, thinking it over. Nine people? How on earth had anyone managed to kill nine people without getting caught?
"Mr. Wise," Zexion cleared his throat, leaning forward with his back straight, his childhood manners quickly coming back to him, "we would like to know where you've been for the past nine days."
He sighed, pushing his white-blond hair out of his face. "I haven't been home for the past two weeks—I was on tour, you know. Book signings and whatnot." He replied without missing a beat. "Would you mind my asking what any of this has to do with me?"
"Of course not, sir." Zexion smiled a falsely sweet smile; one he'd learned from his mother before he'd even learned how to talk. "You see, this killer that we're looking for has been imprinting words into his victim's skin with a knife of some sort. And, coincidentally, each of these words corresponds to your popular book series Kingdom Hearts. So, as you can probably see due to the body count, we are in dire need of information." As if to accentuate the criminal's words, Demyx nodded.
"Ah. I see." Ansem mumbled, resting his chin on his palm. He couldn't believe it; someone was really going around town and killing people off and carving things into them? Carving things from his books no less? "I'll have my agent send over my travel records for the past two weeks. Would that suffice?"
"Of course. We'd really appreciate it." Demyx smiled uncomfortably.
"Good, good, good." Ansem clapped his hands, standing and headed towards the door. "Do you boy's need anything? A cup of water, some tea perhaps?" The two shook their heads in unison. "All right, then. If you'll give me just a moment, I'll answer any questions, but, for the time being, I am in need of a peppermint." And with that he was gone, that house robe of his billowing as he turned the corner, leaving Zexion and Demyx alone in the room.
"He's a bit odd, don't you think?" Zexion asked after a time, tilting his head to the side as he examined the walls around them. They were in a study of some kind that was certain. Books lined the back wall, many of which written by the owner of the house, while a large desk sat with its back facing a window that stretched from the floor to the ceiling, letting in a fair amount of light since the ruby red curtains were pulled open, revealing a spacious side yard. He and Demyx were seated in identical leather chairs that sat near the corner, in a space obviously designated for conversing—Ansem had probably had it set up in order to discuss book ideas with his publisher, but one could never be entirely sure. On the wall directly to Zexion's, a painting of three odd looking characters was hung on the wall. Beside Demyx there was another painting of three different characters, though they looked oddly like the ones in the other painting—the criminal assumed that they were each of characters from Ansem's books. All in all, Zexion felt abnormally at home in this place, even though he'd never stepped foot there in his life; the place simply reminded him of his home in Radiant Garden.
Demyx shrugged. "Everyone's odd, I guess."
And, for some reason, Zexion couldn't help but laugh at that, smiling as he stared up at the ceiling. "Is that just another way of calling me weird?" He asked lightly, the words surprising even himself.
"No!" The blond's face painted itself a dusted sort of red. "That's not what I meant. I was just saying that everyone's different, so who am I to judge who is and who isn't normal and abnormal?"
"Relax, Demyx, I didn't mean anything by that." Zexion mumbled, putting his hands in his lap so he could twist his fingers around one another. "Is this case really that bad?" He added after a few moments had passed, in which it was apparent that the blond wouldn't be saying anything else.
"What do you mean?"
"Tron's death is really bothering you; I can tell. This morning, you seemed a bit depressed, but after we found Tron you've hardly wanted to say anything at all. People die in the line of duty all the time, be them officers, detectives, or technical specialists. This is a dangerous job, and I'm sure that Tron realized that when he signed on as a member of Leon's team. In some way or another, I'm sure he knew that this job was going to eventually kill him, though I doubt he knew that he was going to be electrocuted. And, despite what I may have said previously, I don't take you for an idiot. You may be a simpleton, but an idiot seems like it may be a bit of a stretch. So, all this being said, I'll ask again, 'is this case really that bad?'"
Demyx shrugged, sinking into his seat as if to escape the criminal's trained eyes but still watching the male discreetly. Zexion was changing; even his 'simpleton' mind could see that. In the beginning, Zexion had been closed off towards everyone, his body nothing but skin and bones. He had been nothing but cold and distant; nearly everything he said directly pertained to the case and small talk was out of the question. In short, the guy just hadn't cared about anything other than the case, his goal of freedom being the only thing that he could think about. Now it was like he was looking at an entirely different person.
Not only had he changed physically, but he seemed to change mentally too. He no longer looked like an escaped hospital patient because he now looked like he was actually eating and sleeping regularly, even though his eyes still held shadows and his bones still stuck out at odd angles depending on how he moved. And now, now he would actually talk to him. He didn't talk with Leon or Sora or Riku or even his self-proclaimed number one fan Roxas. At least, he didn't really talk to them. No, instead he chose to talk to Demyx, despite their obvious personality differences and the fact that Zexion probably hated him in the beginning. And he'd said those awful things to him just because he was angry. To Demyx, it was a wonder that Zexion was willing to have anything to do with him at all, yet here he was, seated less than a yard away, unmistakably concerned. Concerned for him.
"You know, Zexion, maybe the case isn't all that bad." Zexion raised one elegant eyebrow, his head quirking to the side. Demyx just shook his head, smiling and finally relaxing. The case was bad; he knew that. He knew that people were already dead and, if they didn't stop him, he would kill even more, but, even so, he couldn't hate the case. Why? Because, how could he hate the case if it was what was changing the younger?
Besides, he rather liked the change.
A/N: See, lookie! Relationship movement! Thank the heavens, it finally happened~
Anyway, the next chapter for this story has already been completed, and will be posted later on this month (probably after Thanksgiving). I'm actually hoping to have the next chapter completed and sent to my beta before I post it, but I'm not sure if that's going to happen yet. It all depends. Either way, another chapter will be posted this month, so be on the look-out. ^-^
Quiz: In the next chapter, the character who dies was originally written about in a fairtytale rendition by Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve. Who are they?
Also, since there was a bit more relationship development between Zexion and Demyx in this chapter, I would like to know what you thought about the second scene in this chapter; the one where Demyx and Zexion are in their hotel room. Any thoughts on that?
A Little Word Math For You: Reviews = Motivation Motivation + Time = New Chapters.
