Oh man am I depressed. I've been crying for like…Twenty minutes. Forgive the angsty-ness of this one-shot. I seriously need to write angst right now…I dunno, I guess it's just my outlet for emotions or something. –Weak laugh- I don't even know what I'm going to write about…I'm typing this up with no idea what I'm doing. Jeez… I guess I'll find out as I go along. –Sigh-
Disclaimer: I own nothing…
Title here.
The rain poured down around The World That Never Was. In the courtyard a lone figure stood, head back with his eyes to the sky, letting the rain wash down his face. He always liked the rain, all because if it rained, he could step outside and cry, and none would be the wiser.
So that was what he was doing. Strangled sobs escaped the young mans lips as he fell to his knees, his perfectly clean Organization cloak getting muddy, his pants taking on a more…Earthly color. Right now, the pain was overwhelming. Most days, the blonde-haired nobody could ignore the pain, hide behind his mask of joy and bright, fake smiles. No one knew, no one cared. When they brushed him off though, all the pain came back and his face would fall momentarily, before he brought the mask right back up. Why did the pain come back on just those moments? Because they reminded the poor boy about him.
Zexion.
At first, Zexion always brushed the guy off, ignoring him coldly, never responding to Demyx's words. After a while though, Zexion started opening up, talking back, striking up conversations of his own with Demyx.
If anyone ever walked outside on the sobbing Number IX, they would probably be shocked that such a happy person was sitting on the ground, looking as sorry as his sobs made him sound.
"Zexion…Oh Zexion. Why did you have to betray us like you did? Why'd you have to let them kill you?" Those choked words were quiet, mixed in with his cries.
How he hated Axel now. The basterd had killed Zexion, his Zexion. Zexion was the only one that spoke to him, gave him credit for his ideas, the only one who loved him. That's the main reason the rest of the Organization wouldn't understand his pain. Nobodies didn't feel, they didn't love. What a load of bullshit. Demyx's pain was real; the love he and Zexion had shared was real.
The nights when Zexion would take Demyx underneath him, moaning his name, whispering words of love…
Those nights were real.
On those days while Zexion was alive, Demyx's smiles and laughs were real, his feelings real. Now that his lover was gone, Demyx felt hollow. His mask never broke – so no one knew. Only he knew, and the knife that hid between the box spring and his mattress.
End
Erm…Woa. Even I don't know what to say about this. That turned out quite…Umm…Odd, to say the least. Angsty, suicidal Demyx. Interesting. Reviews are appreciated but not required. And sorry its short, I just kinda...Wanted to stop. -shrug-
-BlackWind92