8.
Demyx found himself spending a lot of time in the new garden, more than was asked for by the restoration committee. He found the work tough but soothing; it was much more bearable once the undergrowth was cleared and they could do with the land what they wanted. He spent some weeks planting and tending to these tiny seeds; feeding and watering, coaxing tomato plants around trellises. As spring wore towards summer, his sunburns started giving way to a hesitant tan.
It was nice to make something with his hands. Different than music. Less subjective. He knew he was doing well because the little plants were flourishing.
He was trimming down some browned leaves on one of the zucchini plants (a rainstorm had overwatered them) when he heard a voice.
"...So this is where you spend all your time." Dilan. He, too, looked odd in casual clothes. He had a bag slung over one shoulder.
"I volunteered for the committee. They put me here."
He reached forward and touched the tops of one of the carrot plants. "Found your green thumb?"
"Sort of. I guess. It feels… nice to do something with my hands."
"Perhaps you might help us do restoration work in the castle," he said. "All those gardens. They could use some work."
Demyx didn't know what to make of it. "Um, maybe."
A pause. Neither of them seemed to know what to say.
"So, uh, what are you doing in town?" Demyx asked.
He smiled. "I'm not always on duty."
"Do you like being a guard?"
"...I like it more than the alternative."
"That's fair."
"I do not wish to go back to research. But without it… My life seems… open."
Demyx considered this. "I know what you mean." He couldn't be sure how old Dilan was exactly. Mid thirties? Maybe a little older? "What would you do? If you could go anywhere or do anything?"
A pause. His violet eyes grew forlorn. "I rather liked France," he said. "The food. The culture. It's a gorgeous little world. City of romance, and all that."
"Why not go back?"
"One should not drink from wells one has poisoned." He smiled.
Organization stuff. "Oh," Demyx said. "Does this place feel like home?"
Dilan took a breath. "Not quite," he said. "So much has changed. Most of all us. I have so much to… make up for before I can even consider leaving."
Ienzo. They lied to me. He nodded once.
"Have you thought about going home?"
"I can't remember it still," Demyx admitted. "But I… I don't know. It's not so bad here." Ienzo was here.
"It isn't," Dilan agreed. "Well. I should head back."
"Mind if I come with? I'm just about done."
He shrugged. "Doesn't matter to me."
Demyx stood and brushed the dirt off his hands. He felt a sharp pulse of pain in his lower back, disorienting him, and he winced.
Dilan frowned. "Are you alright?"
He swallowed the anxiety. The pain seemed to be fading. "I was just sitting funny."
"If you say so."
Maybe it was because of that, but Demyx found himself dreaming of the desert. The sharp hot wind. Aching thirst, a pounding headache. A feeling of weakness. His vision swarming, he walked.
He saw a flicker-he thought he saw someone running- "Wait, please, help-" He gasped, his throat too dry to make real words.
The flicker came back.
A girl with orange hair and a white dress-
"I know you," he said. "I know-" He coughed.
"I'm sorry," the girl said. "But I have to do it."
"Don't join them," he said. "It's-Strelly, it's a cult."
A hot wind. "I have to," she said. "I was… I was asked to. If we don't do something we're all going to die. I don't want you to die."
"...Pretty sure Elrena feels otherwise."
A small smile. Her face was indistinct. "She doesn't actually hate you, you know."
"...I know."
"Tell me you'll think about it?"
"...I'll think about it."
"Good. Now I gotta go. I'm finally going to meet my friend!" She started walking backwards, fading into nothing. "You're right, I have to talk to them."
"I thought we were… friends…"
Demyx woke up. There were tears on his face, and he felt like utter crap. A hot ring of nausea tightened around his throat. He ran into the bathroom and was promptly sick. He sat for a while, heaving, crying. After too long he found the strength to get up and brush his teeth.
He, Elrena, and this girl Strelitzia had been friends. Was that right? Something about a decision, about her asking him to join her and he hadn't because it felt like a cult.
People in robes and animal masks.
"God," he hissed, pressing a hand to his forehead. Had he always been coerced into cults? Was it that Elrena blamed him for letting this girl end up in one?
It was still so unclear.
The memory of the desert made his skin dry, so he showered. After that, he struggled to sleep. He wanted to be with Ienzo, to hold him. To breathe in his smell.
Demyx couldn't. Could he? He bit his lip and considered. But the heaviness of his heart was only getting worse and his mind echoed with your fault your fault.
He took a deep breath. He opened the door to his room and headed down the hall towards Ienzo's. He'd only been inside it a couple of times, and always in passing. It was always a bit messy-books and papers everywhere-a strange mishmash of the person he was when he was a child and now. He cracked open the door and saw Ienzo asleep-curled on his side, crumpled together like it hurt. He took a tentative step towards him.
The floor creaked.
Ienzo jerked awake, grabbing a pocket knife from the bedside table, cupping his throat.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he said.
"Demyx? What are you-"
"I'm sorry."
He turned on the bedside lamp. "Are you upset?"
"I thought if maybe I was near you-" Then, realizing how pathetic that sounded, "I'll go."
"No, don't." He opened his mouth, closed it. He slid over on the mattress and opened the blankets. "Come. It's alright."
Demyx lay down next to him. Ienzo took off his glasses and set them on the bedside table.
"Did you have a nightmare?" Ienzo asked.
He nodded. "About the desert." And a memory. "I don't want to talk about it. I just wanted… to not be alone."
"It's alright. Try and relax." Ienzo brushed some of the hair out of his face. "Would you like me to hold you?"
A rush of humiliation made his eyes water. "Please." Ienzo pulled him close. Demyx pressed his face against his chest, needing the steady beat of his heart. Once the worst of the fear subsided, he managed, "do you always stab people who come into your room?"
"Whenever I do actually manage to fall asleep-it makes me feel a little safer, to have the knife. I… still fear being backed into a corner."
"...Of course," Demyx said softly. Breathing in his smell was helping. "Do you think we'll ever be able to move on?"
A long pause. "I don't think so."
"Oh."
"But I do think it'll get easier."
"It's been easier since we started this."
"...Yes." He pressed a kiss against Demyx's hair. "Try to sleep, okay?"
After a long time, Demyx did, deep and dreamlessly and peacefully. When he finally woke, it was with a little start; Ienzo had pulled away.
"Go back to sleep. I have to get ready for work."
"Don't go."
"I have to. And so do you in a few hours." He kissed him. "I'd like to see you later." He ran his hand along Demyx's jaw, the stubble. "Bit scratchy."
"I can shave."
"I kind of like it." One last kiss. "You can stay."
"No, I should… get up." Demyx sat up and stretched. "We got a fuckload of letters yesterday and I didn't get around to sorting all of them."
He smirked. "You? Wanting to get a head start on your work?" He pressed a hand to Demyx's forehead.
"Har, har-"
A knock at the door. They both tensed; Ienzo had gone pale. "Ienzo, I have a question about these scribbles ," they heard Even say. "Might we discuss it on our way down?" The doorknob jiggled. Ienzo pressed hard against the door.
"Don't come in. I'm getting changed." He bit his lip. "Just-go down, we can discuss it then."
" Fine. " He muttered some things that were indistinct. Ienzo let go of the door.
"That was close," Demyx said.
"...Quite." A reddish blush heated his face.
"You don't want them to know about us, do you?"
"It's not that ," Ienzo said, just a touch too quickly. "It's just…" He stammered. "Complicated."
"They don't know you're gay?"
"They wouldn't care about that."
It started to become clear. "Is it because it's me?"
"No," he said, his tone not convincing.
Demyx got up. He squeezed Ienzo's shoulder. "I get it. I'll see you around, okay?"
Of course.
Of course.
For a while Demyx ached vaguely. He refused to let himself cry over it. He'd been seeing this as more serious than it was. Ienzo had first kissed him by accident. Would he really want something real?
Did Demyx?
(He thought of how safe he'd felt last night in his arms.)
Would Even and the others be as friendly if they knew what had happened? Demyx wasn't good enough, he wasn't smart enough. He realized he'd been allowing himself to think about a life for them-
"You alright, laddie? You've been staring at that letter for ten minutes."
"Ah-sorry." Demyx forced a smile. "Rough morning. Need more coffee." He set the letter into its appropriate spot. He made a show of going over to the coffee machine and pouring a cup.
"Well. If you ever need time, let me know," Scrooge said. "We can't make money when we don't feel well." He walked over to the other side of the shop.
Demyx tried to drag himself out of the miserable haze. He made small talk with his coworkers, with the customers. He ran a small delivery across town. It made his back ache again, so he sat down for a little while. He texted Lea to distract himself.
Hey.
Demyx! How's it going?
Alright. Trying to kill some time at work.
Work? A job? Good for you.
It's not bad. Sometimes I have too little to do.
Too LITTLE? Are you feeling okay?
Har har.
So what do you do?
I work at the post office. Off world letters and deliveries. Stuff like that.
Sounds… actually pretty interesting.
It can be. Sometimes. I actually like being kept busy now. Keeps me from thinking too hard.
Really, DO YOU FEEL OKAY. A pause. Then, I know what you mean. Memories and thoughts and stuff? Icky.
Very icky, Demyx agreed.
If it gets TOO icky, come visit, Lea wrote. Sometimes a change in scenery can make a world of difference.
Maybe I will. That is a threat.
Ha ha. Now get off your phone and get back to work.
He felt marginally better. He sorted some more letters. Jotted part of a composition on a napkin, but it was making him too sad, so he threw it away. He was under the counter trying to dig out a roll of stamps when he heard a "hello?"
Demyx yelped and bumped his head against the counter. "Sorry. Can I, uh… help… you…" He trailed off, seeing Ienzo.
"I have a letter I need sent," he said. Nothing in his face or tone indicated Demyx was any more than an employee. "Could you help me?"
He swallowed. "Sure. Where to?"
"It's local." He handed over an envelope, address facing down, and a small bill. "Will that cover postage?"
"Um… yep." He gave Ienzo his change. "It'll probably get to them by tomorrow. Or sooner."
"Or sooner," Ienzo echoed. "Thanks for your help."
For a minute, Demyx stood holding the letter, feeling tears well. He was going to need to take a break and have a good cry, wasn't he? Pathetic. No wonder Ienzo wanted nothing to do with him when there were actual real-life implications-
He flipped the letter over. It was addressed to him. He took a sharp breath. Put up his "back after lunch" sign. Demyx headed to the back of the office, where he had a small bit of privacy. His hands were trembling, and he gave himself a papercut on the smooth, heavy paper. But the letter inside was written on looseleaf, and looked like it had been crumpled and smoothed a few times. He began bracing himself for more pain.
Demyx,
You must forgive me. I am so clumsy and so, to a degree, still unable to realize the impacts of my actions. I feel I've been using you and that's not fair to you.
After this morning I was made to see this liaison in context, and take in all the complications. I realized I was afraid of petty judgement from those who have hurt me. I do not owe anyone explanations. You don't deserve to be dangled endlessly while I work through problems.
Demyx almost threw up.
However, I find the idea of ending this to be painful and wholly unappealing. You make me feel. You allow me to feel, to truly be human, to see myself outside of what I've done. Part of it is that person scares me. I do not know him. He is a stranger, weak and vulnerable. But I need him, and I want you to help me keep finding him.
That… and I simply enjoy time with you. I enjoy seeing who you truly are. Someone who wants to work hard and to grow. Perhaps it is selfish of me, but I wish to see who you are when you're vulnerable too.
I can deal with petty judgement. With any luck, we can prove them wrong. They were always wrong about you, after all.
If any of this makes any sense… please meet me tonight in the garden. I'll be waiting.
Ienzo.
Oh.
His heart was beating faster now.
Ienzo was choosing him.
He didn't know how he was going to be able to pass the time until later.