(So that cute, happy, fluffy little chapter I just posted?
Yeah. It was a breather chapter. We're back on the train to Angstville, population: Demyx~
Okay so for starters. Warnings again, because I really don't like the idea of anyone living old scars through this fic. Basically, if I can barely write it, and do it only for the sake of the story, I don't want anyone who didn't write it to go through the same stuff. So; emotional manipulation and abuse, slight physical abuse, and general sociopathy towards innocent little kids. Just as a warning.
Also this will continue over a few chapters, so that warning above still stands, yep.
So, don't own Kingdom Hearts, and as I've mentioned a billion times, seriously, as much as I'd like all my shippings to be proven canon, don't let me near the game if you're reading this, Nomura. ._.
Dedicated to my new PSP who is named Buttons and I totally just made that up on the spot. Killer.)
Demyx had gone back to his room for the night, knowing it would be painted in the morning and having a lighter heart because of it. He set Peggy down with care in the corner, running a gentle hand down her strings before undressing and climbing into bed.
...Dreams are funny things. We sleep and expect to dream. But we never seem to expect or assume we'll just have a nightmare...
It wasn't a set time, really. It had started since he-not Demyx, Demyx was not part of this, not yet-since Myde was born. It was just the span of a lifetime, peppered with events that were somehow worse than the day to day torture.
Little brothers look up to their big brothers, you know. And they love them. A lot.
...Most of the time.
Myde loved everyone and everyone loved Myde.
This was a fact of life.
He'd been born into a loving family, a big, tight-knit clan filled with all the family a child could ask for. Myde, with his big, sapphire eyes the color of the ocean during high noon and his brilliant, innocent smile, was loved and cherished by the whole family. This only became more of a constant as he grew from a baby into a bright, inquisitive toddler with an aptitude for music. He took to the sitar like water, and was given a hand-made one for his fifth birthday, crafted and decorated by all of his aunts and uncles.
The house that Myde lived in was on the edge of an island, overlooking a vast, sparkling ocean. It towered above the skyline like a castle, a white-washed benevolent giant that ruled over the shore. The porch was rickety and well-worn, the stairs up to the tower where Myde had made his room were worn with time and many passing footsteps, and shells, stones, and other treasures the sea gifted to them dotted the tables, chairs, and walls of the house.
He lived the perfect life. Even when the sky was grey, there were always books to read and pictures to draw, and the waves rushing outside his window were a constant, serving as a beautiful guide and comfort to him if he was ever lonely or sad.
Myde loved his life, and life loved Myde. In fact, the only thing that didn't love Myde...
Was Myde's big brother.
Kayle was older than Myde by ten years, and was his exact opposite in every conceivable way. He never smiled, his eyes were the color of dark, rotten mud, and he loved absolutely no one. In fact, the moment Myde was born, when a new son who could smile and ask to play was given to the family, it was as if he never existed.
Myde tried desperately to make him feel like he had a place in the family...but it seemed like Kayle would never love Myde. He simply rejected every overture Myde made, refusing to go anywhere with him or listen to him play music. Myde never stopped trying, though. It took months, and after awhile, he simply had begun to lose hope.
Then one day, Kayle simply began to agree to his requests. Myde didn't ask why; he was simply overjoyed that his brother was finally trying to take interest in what he did. Myde began to try to make his big brother be a proper big brother, taking him everywhere and trying to integrate him into his life. The trouble was, Myde didn't know how big brothers were supposed to act.
That started it all, really. Myde was sweet and naive; he was no longer a child, but within his heart, he was still as sweet and gentle as he was since he was a toddler. So he didn't question Kayle when he hit him. After all, Kayle was his big brother.
It started small; Myde didn't want to play a song for his brother. He was tired, his hands were beginning to ache, and he could feel himself shaking with hunger. As he voiced his protests, he felt the smarting pain of a hand tear across his face. He looked up at Kayle in amazement, tears filling his eyes. Myde had never been hit. The feeling was completely and utterly foreign to him, and he couldn't help but cry, more confused than hurt.
"Myde, you have to listen to your big brother, right?" His voice was like ice and silk; smooth and cold. "I've done so much for you, Myde. I'm only asking for a song. C'mon, Myde." He sat and waited, not even considering Myde might deny him.
And he didn't. Myde played until his fingers bled, not even realizing his brother had gotten up and walked away until he paused in a note and was greeted with silence.
So Myde loved everyone, and everyone loved Myde. Even his big brother.
...Even if his love hurt.
