Ha! Update.
I have a job now, so things will slow even more. Sorry guys. But I do like my job a whole lot. XD I'll tell ya later.
In other news, I have a forum now: http ://www. fanfiction. net/f/1231099/
We're RPing the Organization in there at the moment, so check it out (and remember to take out the spaces, ya? XD)
Read, enjoy, rate, repeat!!! It totally makes my day.
:: Sleep ::
Demyx had hobbies other than his music, but Axel rarely ever noticed because they were extremely subtle. He lied well too, very much unlike in his past life. For example, he could draw.
Axel had to admit he was talented, although he could brush up a little on human anatomy.
He had a hand for Japanese styled koi and Chinese dragons, stylized goldfish, even the lotus flowers that bloomed on pink tinted watercolor paper for Marluxia in a thank you card for the box of oranges the pink haired man had sent them. Axel found some sketches and with a patient hand, gold-leafed the flowers, added light paint to the koi's scales and eyes, gilded crystals clutched in adamantine claws with silver. Even so, Demyx refused to acknowledge his own talent.
Their styles were as opposite as their elements or night and day: Axel's lines broken like static on a TV screen, a wildfire of short choppy lines, but Demyx's was smooth, flowing in long rounded arcs, darkening and lightening on a whim like a river on its track to the ocean. His sketches looked like practices with cursive. His hand spouted calligraphy without any knowledge of the art at all.
It surprised Axel when he came home one day and found the blond hunched over on the kitchen floor, cross-legged in the bright kitchen fluorescents, left arm lying in his lap. There was a bowl of India ink and a towel soaked in it and it scared the redhead badly when he saw the blond dip a razorblade into a dish of rubbing alcohol, wipe it clean and put it to bloody tracks on his already wounded arm.
He panicked.
"Holy shit, Demyx! What the fuck are you doing?" He cried, falling to his knees and skidding across the tile, knocking the razor out of the younger man's hand. Demyx looked confused, shocked, and a tad indignant all at the same time.
"I'm scarring!" he snapped, "Christ, Axel! You could have fucked it up making such a fuss… and you cut yourself! Here, give me that bowl of water."
Axel complied a little confusedly, winced when the blond grabbed his hand and pried open the gash on the top of it. He took a cloth and scrubbed most of the black out of the wound.
"What… why are you doing that…" Axel bit out. It fucking hurt!
"Unless you want to have a black line on your hand for the rest of your life, you might want to get it out, dip-shit," Demyx muttered, trying to concentrate. "You're a lucky bastard. You didn't cut any veins."
He dropped Axel's hand and gave him a look that said he was both openly upset and that there wasn't much his lover would be able to do about it.
"Sorry…" he said, truly contrite, "I just thought—"
"—I was hurting myself, I know, I know," Demyx grumbled, "Just get me a clean razor, would you?"
Axel complied quietly, watched as the blond instantly dipped it into the dish of alcohol and drew the edge along a small purple line on his skin. He made a second cut just a little opposite, and popped the little wedge of flesh up with the edge of the razor, pulled it out. Axel winced as he did this and damn near retched when he dropped it on a paper plate covered in similar little scraps.
He picked up the cloth soaked in India ink and sponged the dark liquid into the oozing cut, dabbed the excess away with the damp cloth in the bowl of water.
Axel watched for what felt like hours as the blond continued the painstaking process until his arm was laced with bloody lines. He made one last pass with the ink and then bade Axel wrap it with gauze. On top of the gauze, he wrapped an ace-bandage and started cleaning up the mess like nothing ever happened. Though he was a little sickened by the whole thing—most of all by the blood that had gotten on the floor—he helped out.
Demyx settled on the couch to watch Axel paint, a strange look permanently written on his face no matter what expression was predominant at the time. The redhead determined it to be pain. Extreme pain.
"You okay, love?" Axel asked softly, wiping cerulean paints off of his fingers.
Demyx just shook his head, a single tear finding a way to slip down his cheek. He didn't wipe it away, though, because his other hand was busy clutching his wounded arm. Axel plopped down on the couch, caught the tear on the tip of a finger and wiped it away gently.
"Come here, boy," Axel whispered softly.
Demyx complied instantly, fell into his lover's arms. He sighed and buried his face in the crook of Axel's neck, short hair tickling the sensitive skin mercilessly.
"Why did you do that?" Axel asked quietly, reaching up to stroke the smooth skin of a golden-tanned cheek.
"It's for us… there's another one I still haven't done yet…" Demyx explained, "I want you to see it, but I also kind of want it to be a surprise."
"Well… where do you plan to do the other?"
"Other arm," Demyx explained, sniffling and lifting his head so that he could more comfortably explain. "It'll be a design like the other, but it'll be one for me…" He ran his fingers along the line of his smooth golden forearm, then looked up to his lover's bright green eyes with a small smile. "It's worth the pain in the end…"
"Can you do that?" Axel asked in confusion, cocking his head a little.
"I can write and draw with both hands," Demyx said evenly, "I used to be left-handed, but they forced me to use my right. I can work with both now."
They sat there in silence for the longest time. No need to speak.
This was a thing they'd only just learned to enjoy in this life: they trusted their hearts to speak for them. As always, it was that same simple message from Demyx, God, I love you… I need you…; and Axel's same reply with his most accommodating, gentle smile, I am yours. Do with me as you see fit, love.
As always, Demyx collapsed on Axel, pulled his lover close. Axel obliged. He was feeling a bit more placid lately, and really, when your most prized and beloved worshipper is in your lap, singing like a bird with a broken wing, you, as a god, can't help but be touched by such sweet endearments.
"You're so beautiful, Dem…" he whispered, twining thin arms around the blond's torso like copper wire, "Don't go losing that innocence, alright?"
"Of course not," Demyx breathed, "Just as long as we don't bump my arm I'll be fine…"
--- ---
By now, some couples would have been worried that there was nothing holding the relationship together but the weak glue of shared sexual passions. Demyx never worried like that, though. He knew Axel wouldn't turn on his most devoted and loyal worshipper.
And besides…
"Ah god!" the redhead cried, bony hands clutching at Demyx's back, forehead planted tight against the curve of the blond's neck, "I… I… Fuck! Where did… you learn to… do that?"
"Memories," Demyx breathed.
When you could make someone so satisfied that they couldn't breathe… well, they didn't often just up and run. It was Demyx's turn to be god.
--- ---
Every morning like this one was a beautiful thing.
As much as Axel wanted to sit there in the silence and admire his lover, so well adorned in his sleep, delicately gilded with bright morning sunlight, he knew the kid would be in pain as soon as he woke. Over the night, the gauze on his arm had bled through and dark wetness was starting to seep through to the top layer of bandaging. The redhead gently caressed a sun-kissed—and freckling, to both of their great surprise—smooth skinned cheek, rose and padded into the kitchen quietly.
Leto got up and yawned, stretched in a very catlike manner and stood at Axel's heels loyally. Axel paused to lavish some love on the dobe. He wouldn't skimp out after that last close call.
He needed to see again soon.
Leto whimpered and woke Axel from his revelations, so the redhead opened up the cabinet and rummaged through the rows of little orange bottles until he found the one he needed.
"Codeine… that'll do it," he mumbled, twisting the cap and tapping two little squat cylindrical pills into his palm. He popped the top back on, grabbed a bottle of water and returned to the bed, placed the items on the night stand. Demyx didn't budge an inch.
Leto returned to his bed, but Zipporah came up to Axel, her soft doe-eyes reflecting her hopeful expectancy. Axel sighed and patted the bedspread. She jumped up into the bed and folded herself up against Demyx's hip, laid her head down in Axel's lap.
"Hey sweetie," he laughed, stroking her gently.
The dog simply lay there, content to be loved.
Axel sighed and closed his eyes opened his sight just like he had so many times before. He saw the wall of mirrors, stepped forward to see them. All but one were blackened, darkened so that the future they held could not be seen, and he knew these were the ones that would open one by one if he shattered this future he was about to view.
The flame only illuminates so far.
The moon can only see in one direction.
He was walking forward and suddenly, his vision swelled painfully. His consciousness was suddenly opened up and joined with another.
"Shit!"
"Demyx?" Axel breathed.
The mirrors melted into an open basin of mercury, glowing and shifting with life and an unhampered view of the future.
The perfect medium…
"Axel! Axel, what the hell is going on? Snap out of it!"
Not so much joined. He couldn't see what Axel saw. His sight—and Axel marveled, there was a deep and completely untapped potential bleeding through those fingertips digging into his forearm—seemed to be welded shut from the inside.
"Axel, you're bleeding!" the blond cried in distress.
"Hold… still," Axel panted, pushing himself closer to the swimming mirror, dipping in a hand. He could feel it. It was happening to him just like he was right there and it was strangely addictive, riding the twisting currents. He could see futures innumerable and only a very small few, a handful at the most, would bear them out safe. He felt the burn in his head and withdrew, fell back into consciousness, panting, writhing in Demyx's arms.
"Axel!" the kid sobbed. Even up-side down he looked a perfect wreck.
"Shit… I'm sorry…"
You need the catalyst… sweet water catalyst.
Fire only illuminates so far…
You need a mirror.
Axel got shakily to his feet, tore at his face with the back of his wrist. It was instantly coated a light crimson.
"I'm fine," he said softly, "Just… just a little shaken up…"
How can I pull him through? If I open that door there's no going back, but we'd be so much safer… nothing could ever touch us. But it's dangerous. He's so powerful that it could kill him to unlock his power and if I limited him, it would drive him insane… I could ham-string it, but then he'd be damaged for good…
"Axel?"
He sounded terribly scared.
The redhead shook out his mane and wiped his nose on the bottom of his shirt despite the fact that it would stain. "Sorry, love. There's codeine on the table. Your arm hurt much?"
"A little… I'll need you to help me later…"
"Don't worry about that. I'll do anything for you, but just so you know, that vaseline's going to hurt like a bitch," he said without thinking, shook his head hard, "Sorry… I'll explain in a minute."
Demyx nodded vacantly.
Axel limped off to the shower.
"Need to fuckin' talk to fuckin' Saïx before my fuckin' head explodes," he mumbled, before the shower shut him up.
--- ---
Demyx winced and turned ocean-colored eyes away while Axel kept his hand crushed on the blond's slender wrist, using the other to pour on the alcohol. Demyx literally screamed, grasping Axel's knee hard with his free hand. Axel placed the bottle aside and watched as the clear, stinging liquid ran down through the swirling lines of the Salamander's body, the thickly outlined columns of the three I's of VIII. He used a wad of sterile gauze to dab away the excess, bringing it back up with only the faintest lines of black and red.
He snatched the plastic container of vaseline and began to slather on the slick petroleum jelly. The wounds seemed to hiss with such treatment, but no blood seeped out. Demyx let out a gasp of utter agony, his face falling into a pained scowl as the nails of his free hand bit into Axel's jeans.
"Fuck!" he breathed.
"I know… just a little more," Axel mumbled, brow furrowed with pity and somewhat more with concentration. This was not how he liked to hear his lover cry out. He finished layering the last bit of stinging, oxygen starving vaseline into the scar tracks. Demyx sniffled quietly, reaching up with the cuff of his long-sleeved shirt to wipe his eyes.
Crying again, like he did so very often.
Axel wiped his hand on a towel and retrieved the plastic wrap that would go over the vaseline to waterproof it completely. He wrapped carefully, taped it at the ends with duct tape and then carefully re-wrapped it with a thick ace-bandage.
"You alright, love?"
"T-this… stays on for a week," Demyx stated simply, "No touching it, no jarring it, no removing the bandage prematurely unless it gets infected. Can't get it wet either."
"Alright," Axel said softly, massaging the blond's hand gently. He was worried, but he wouldn't push his lover to respond.
"I need… I need to sleep for a little while… just until the pain tapers off."
"Yeah."
He helped his shaky lover to his feet, carried him to the bed and watched as Demyx curled up, took a moment before he joined the blond.
"I love you," Demyx laughed between pained sobs, "You'd stay even if I told you to go away, wouldn't you?"
"I live to annoy you with my very presence, sweetie," the redhead teased, wiping the tears from the younger man's eyes.
"You don't annoy me," Demyx returned with a sweet smile, "Not all the time at least."
--- ---
The second design came slowly, much more painstakingly because his writing arm hurt so. Axel found himself finishing the last half of the whole piece, wiping the blood out of the tracks of the koi's smooth body, dabbing at the lines that made the Roman numeral IX. He found it almost disgustingly easy to clip away the skin, disturbing how strangely intimate the whole thing was.
Demyx watched detachedly, almost as if he could shunt the pain away. Really it was that over the last few days he'd gotten used to constant agony. And it really was quite constant.
Axel dabbed in the last of the ink and smiled contritely up at the stone faced blond.
"You surviving?"
Demyx nodded. He was so tired of this. He had refused the pain pills and now he was just dealing. His father would say it was one of those things that build character… well, if he hadn't brought it on himself. He was just sick of being foggy all the time.
He watched as Axel bound the wound quickly, almost expertly.
"You know we've got to get on a plane in two days. Can you survive that?"
"Maybe…" Demyx said shakily. He swallowed hard.
"Are you sure?" Axel sighed. He looked worried. Very worried.
Demyx nodded again. He couldn't trust his voice for now.
"Alright… you want to get some sleep, right?"
Another nod.
"Okay."
--- ---
He lay completely still, almost as if he were dead, when the second vaseline wrap went on. He only made a soft sound of displeasure at the alcohol, but nothing more as Axel smeared the thick translucent gunk over the sliced lines. He was able to work rather quickly for that.
"Done," he said softly, and bright blue eyes fluttered open in response. "Are you completely sure you don't want to take anything for it?"
"Just for now," Demyx replied, his voice barely a whisper, but completely unsteady, shaking.
Axel nodded softly and ran a hand through messy, cropped blond hair.
The pills worked. Demyx slept comfortably enough for that night.