A/N: Greetings! I'm sorry this update took so long. Many events happened at the end of the school year, but at least it's over. Truly over. I graduated high school~! So now I have to get ready to tackle the big, bad "Real" world out there :P And I went to a sort of "camping" trip at the university I'll be attending, so that ate up some time as well. Ah~ But now I have a summer to update like crazy!

This chapter ended up being something all by itself... Nevertheless, I really hope you enjoy; I worked rather hard on it :B -bows-

Opinion: You Can Know a Stranger Well

In his dream, the sunshine made Demyx's hair glisten and his aqua eyes sparkle as he surfaced from the pool, laughing. Zexion lingered over the edge, sitting with his knees pressed to his chest, smiling faintly. He was wearing his school uniform, but Demyx swam in only his jeans.

There were a great number of words pressing on his tongue, all hateful, all loving, but he didn't want the wrong thing to come out, so he decided to remain silent and play as the observer. That's how it always was, after all. He said nothing even as Demyx swam up before him and reached out, brushing his hands against Zexion's hips. The sun made liquid reflections dance over his tan skin like glowing snakes.

"Come in with me," he said.

Zexion fervently shook his head. No. I can't.

"Why not?"

Instead of answering, Zexion looked away, down into the clear, bright water. I don't think I can handle it, was what he thought to say.

But just like in real life, this dream-Demyx could also read his thoughts. "You'll be with me. Don't you want to be with me?" he asked gently, wet hands dampening Zexion's pants, yanking one leg into the water.

Suddenly in a panic, he recoiled. NO! He closed his eyes tightly, pressing his palms against his ears. I want you, but I'm scared! This was the right thing to say, but the words couldn't leave his lips. Where were his words? Why couldn't he speak?

When he opened his eyes again, his vision was blurry. Pool water surrounded him – he had gone under. His long bangs haloed over his face, swaying in the waves. Bubbles choked him, curling him in a ball. Drowning. He was drowning. He flailed, but the surface was so far above him, the sun blinding him. Was he even moving? It certainly felt like he was getting nowhere.

He coughed, trying to breathe, but only bubbles came out, floating above him. His eyes stung from the chlorine and his arms began to tire.

Demyx was above him, staring with wide, stunned eyes.

"I'm sorry," Zexion said, voice so clear under the water, reaching up for the infinite surface. "I'm sorry I'm scared."

The sun got brighter until it burned his eyes.

"…Sorry."

As soon as the word began to leave his tongue, Zexion knew he was awake, leaving the murmur sound empty without the right ears to listen to it. Even so, his voice sounded so quiet. Very gradually, his opened eyes focused to the slightly dim light above him. Clinical cold made his skin prickle with gooseflesh. He tried turning his head, but a sharp pain slicing down his right shoulder area that made his skull throb made him stop.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a woman standing to his left, next to a small assortment of hospital equipment along with an intravenous needle hooked into his arm, the bags obscuring most of the woman's face. His right arm was in a sling tied around his neck. Zexion quickly tried not to think too hard about the needle secured in his left arm, his scarred arm, and the taped-down syringe.

If the needle is not sited correctly, or the vein is particularly fragile, it ruptures and blood flows out. Those weren't reassuring facts, but they were the first to come to him. He settled for looking at the gray wall in front of him, focusing on the small drip of the IV bag.

"Wh…Where…am I?" he asked, voice hoarse and tongue feeling too large. No one else was in the room save for himself and the woman.

"How long have you been awake?" she asked in surprise. Her shoes squeaked on the floor as she came closer to him, her softly smiling face now in view. Her light-brown hair was wind-swept and her honey-colored eyes were kind and young. "I imagine you must be stiff and hurting. Especially your little noggin."

On cue, the pain came back, and Zexion screwed his eyes shut, flinching. The nurse rubbed his hand. "Don't worry, you'll get something for that," she said, looking at the clear sack. She didn't stop smiling, and it wasn't too bright or wide. It was polite and empathetic. A peculiar smile, but Zexion didn't dislike it.

"Would you like to see your family? I'm sure they'd be thrilled to see you awake."

Zexion's stomach clenched. Oh, his family. This must've cause a lot of trouble. His father would no doubt criticize him for walking straight into a… He paused midthought, realizing how he had ended up in this hospital bed. Even though he knew he and the nurse were the only ones in the room, he couldn't stop himself from sweeping his gaze around once more. The right, immediate questions were on the tip of his tongue, but he didn't know how to give them voice. It was too much effort to get his lips to part and his mind get the words in order. And because he had been doing it a lot lately, he settled for staring straight ahead, seeing endless spirals on the wall, pulling him down.

"If you don't mind the intrusion," said the nurse gently, "I couldn't help but gather you pushed your sister out of the way of a moving car."

Oh, so even the doctors and the nurses knew? Very slowly, Zexion tilted his head towards her. He worried only slightly that she wouldn't be able to read him with the tired expression frozen on his countenance.

"Admirable act, to be sure," she said, putting her hands over one another. She swept her eyes over him and nodded – in what, he didn't know. "Though your sister is fine, I wonder if it was rational what you did."

Zexion glanced away, because he wondered the same thing. The nurse must have mistaken the gesture to mean something else, because she amended, "Don't think I'm judging you, it's not my place." Then he heard her walk away and the door close. He tossed his head back to flip his bangs away, pain in his shoulder again.

That's when it finally hit him. Zexion panicked. Quicker than he anticipated, he glanced towards the door only to see he was, in fact, alone. Now, he couldn't really move either arm – his right was in a sling and probably for good reason. His left arm was preoccupied with the IV needle, something he'd really rather not mess with. Still, feeling the loss with his hands might've been move painful. Besides, he didn't need them to know the reality of the situation.

His bangs weren't covering his eye anymore. Even as he shifted his head as much as his neck and head would allow, waiting for his hair to fall over his face, he knew it wouldn't. Nothing could hide his face anymore.

He closed his eyes tightly, talking a deep breath. It felt like he was back in his dream, drowning.

More relief filled him than he thought when he opened his eyes again to see Uncle Auron sitting at the chair by the window. A knee-high table beside him was occupied by keys, a copy of A Tale of Two Cities, and cigarettes. Strange, Zexion never knew his uncle smoked before. He never smelled like it, and the room certainly didn't smell peculiar, though Zexion was sure it had to do with the fact their location was in a hospital.

The slate-haired teen swallowed, his throat feeling raw, and his lips chapped as he ran his tongue over them. His uncle looked up from gazing out the window and was soon at his side.

"You pulled through," Auron stated with relief and a rare smile that weren't-so-rare when directed at Zexion. "Though I never had any doubts. It was hard to believe though, when you were hauled in here. Never had I seen you worse for wear." His uncle blinked, realizing he was babbling, of all things. "How are you?"

Zexion opened his mouth, only because this was the man he trusted most in the world. It took some effort, but finally, his voice kicked in. "I've been hit…by a car…for the second time in my life. I will…probably get scars on my right arm…that will match my left. My head is…killing me. And…and my…bangs have been cut." He said all this in a creaky voice and slowly to keep the clawing at his throat to a minimum.

"Personally, I believe it to be a good look for you," complimented Auron, reaching out and gingerly brushing against the newly cut hair. "At least it wasn't a complete hack job, right?"

Zexion gave a small breath that was supposed to be a half-hearted chuckle. "So I don't think I'm okay, given that list." He glanced at the book on the table. "Have you…finished?"

"About an hour before you woke up," said Auron. He sat at the edge of the bed, near Zexion's legs. "You're a live, aren't you? That's as okay as it gets."

"Alive is the bare minimum," argued Zexion, pressing his head into the pillows. His thoughts drifted briefly, and he asked, "Where are Father and...Fuujin?" His cheeks warmed slightly – it felt odd to ask such a question.

Auron, of course, didn't see it that way. "Visiting hours are about to end, so your father took Fuu home," he explained simply. "But he told me to wait here until he got back."

The reply made Zexion confused, and he might've frowned could he feel his face. His father was actually missing work to see him? Although it was true Maxwell Anderson was not heartless, he never even took time off to see Fuu's choir concerts, to stay for Zexion's academic decathlons, to even stay for long the first time Zexion landed in a hospital. And for awhile, the teen thought he'd be waking up in an empty room again – yet here sat his uncle saying his father was coming to visit him. What was so different about the circumstances this time?

What made this okay?

Auron gave him a glance. "I wouldn't put myself in a dark place yet, Dr. Manette," he quipped with an arched brow. "You've still got that 'golden thread' of yours, on top of your family."

"Demyx Watera has nothing to do with this," said Zexion automatically.

Auron raised an eyebrow. "He's the one who took care of you when you got hit."

"He wasn't even anywhere near me." It surprised him to realize how quickly he could retaliate in opposition. Had he always done that? It made him sound so defensive, so in denial. Why hadn't anyone told him about it? It was just as well – everyone else seemed to know everything else wrong with him and never said anything.

"He really did," insisted his uncle lightly. "Fuujin relayed the story to us." A slightly amused look crossed his face. "She actually told the whole story to us. Her words never stopped or had a limit. Surprising, hmm?"

His sister yelling at him seemed like it happened mere seconds ago. That's how fresh they were in his mind. That's how deeply she had affected him. She had carefully constructed her words for so long that they lost all meaning to him. She might as well not have talked at all. But so many years worth of hate, loneliness, and hurt had crashed down on both of them at once.

"Well, not now," said Auron, going over to Zexion's bed. There were an assortment of buttons right next to him, and his uncle pressed one. "For now, you need to see the doctor. He's been wanting examinations, especially that shoulder and head of yours."

"Is that why it hurts so bad?"

A knock sounded at the door and Auron announced access in. When the door opened, Zexion's heart jumped a little, not knowing what to expect.

"Just in time, doctor," Auron said with a nod. "He woke up not long ago."

A man walked up to Zexion's bedside, dressed in a white coat with jeans underneath. He had wavy, albeit unkempt, dirty-blond hair up in a short ponytail and a pleasant, slightly unshaven face and hazel eyes framed in square, brown glasses. When he smiled, he bared his teeth. He had his ID clipped to his jacket like any other doctor, but Zexion didn't need it.

"We haven't been properly introduced yet," said the man. Knowing the state of Zexion's arms, he leaned over and squeezed his hand softly. "I'm Dr. Watera, though I suppose you're better acquainted with my son?"

The Wateras all had such a warm presence; it had been easy to tell. Without even knowing why, Zexion felt shy around him and his cheeks turned slightly pink. Zexion nodded mutely.

Dr. Watera's smile grew, flashing his teeth. "You are a very lucky boy," he lilted, getting up to take the chart that was hanging at the end of his bed. "Miraculously, none of your ribs cracked. Your internal organs aren't injured as well, which is excellent, truly excellent. However," he flipped a page over, "your head experienced some head trauma and your right shoulder dislocated, your collarbone breaking in the process. That right arm of yours also broken."

Zexion nodded, again without saying anything – this time trying to hide how suddenly nervous he was. The head trauma didn't sound bad and neither did the broken arm – both had happened to him already in the last car accident. But his arm had been out of its socket? He nodded yet again, even though nothing had been said.

Pushing up his glasses, Dr. Watera asked, "How is the area around your right hip?"

Honestly, Zexion hadn't given it any thought. With the bruises and clothing burns on top of the medical injuries, all of his body hurt on some degree. "It feels fine."

Dr. Watera offered him a gentler smile, closing his lips. "You had surgery on your pelvic bone. It happened as soon as you got in, because of the extensive bleeding. It'll be shaky walking for a bit, but for now, we'll be getting you around in a hospital wheelchair."

"I had surgery?" Zexion repeated with wide eyes. "Could you... Is anything else wrong with me?"

Settling the chart against his chest, Dr. Watera gave him a sympathetic look. "That's it, thankfully. I'm sorry, you must be so overwhelmed. If I may..." He sat down at the end of the bed. "You had a shock attack while you were in the middle of being examined. Do you remember that? Your eyes were open."

Zexion knew, but he didn't want to remember. That had been a scary time. He couldn't remember being more scared. Luckily, Dr. Watera moved on.

"Well, it was about an hour or so after that. You were under, of course, and the bleeding has been taken care of. Still, there's some things we'll have to check on from time to time," he explained. He kept his hazel eyes on Zexion's the whole time, smiling softly. It comforted the teen to see it.

"Are you my actual doctor?"

The question was apparently amusing as Dr. Watera laughed. "Yes, I am. My son all but ordered for me to take care of you, and my superior was okay with it."

He hadn't expected any less. He wanted to ask where Demyx was at that moment. But at the same time, he just wanted to sleep and get this all over with. Even though he could feel all the cold and pain, nothing seemed quite real yet. And he was so exhausted that any moment now he expected to be drowning in a pool again. The events all felt like a dream. The sandy blur of color from before, that had called his name – had that been real?

Purple and red spots danced before Zexion's eyes when Dr. Watera pulled the small flashlight away. After writing down the results of the test, he turned back to face the teen.

"Do you know what year it is?"

It was a very tedious process, but Dr. Watera had emphasized the importance of the examination for trauma patients, especially those with head injuries. It almost didn't matter, as Zexion had already gone through the tests before in his first car accident. After this, he'd go on to have his bones X-rayed.

"What's the month?"

"November."

"And your birthday?"

Zexion sighed wearily. "November sixth."

More writing. Demyx's father looked slightly sad. "Did you know today is November fourth?"

"I suppose I do now."

It was easier than Zexion thought to gain full awareness again. That was fine. He had been to the hospital before, and was fairly sure how everything was going to work out. Then again, he was knocked unconscious this time around, and had had surgery, of all things. When he was alone, he'd tuck his left hand into his gown and feel over the stitches at his hip area.

I really messed up.

His father showed up right after the examinations, though Zexion pretended to be asleep in order to avoid awkward interactions and conversations he wasn't ready for. He heard his father's voice and Auron's, but he didn't bother trying to hear what they had to say. Eventually the voices faded and the door closed.

Zexion opened his eyes, but saw he wasn't alone.

Fuujin was sitting at the chair Auron had occupied, hugging her knees closely to her chest. It never occurred how small and thin his sister was, her legs and arms like sticks coming out of her body. For a fleeting instant, Zexion thought of a baby bird, a naked thing that couldn't fly. Pathetic and delicate.

Her head was nestled on top of her knees, and her red eye was looking straight at him. It was too late to pretend that he was asleep. The nakedness of not having his hair over his face was suddenly made painfully obvious, as Zexion had nowhere to put his stare, except to return Fuu's. The air conditioning turned on, buzzing the room with icy chill. This along with the drawn curtains suddenly gave Zexion a foreboding feeling.

Her eye was wide as Zexion blinked absently at her. Her leg shifted forward as if she would walk towards him, but froze, recoiling to fold herself up again. Zexion picked at the blanket idly, not having the freedom to move with his healing pelvic bone.

Fuu opened her mouth a few times. Her face was quickly turning pink, expression troubled. "Want Dad?" she asked finally, looking at the door.

Almost making the mistake to shake his head fervently, he said, "No, that's fine." And because he was genuinely curious, he inquired somewhat sarcastically, "Taken to two- and one-word sentences again?"

Fuu looked down, shaking her head and tousling her short hair. "It just came out that way," she explained, stretching out her fingers and wiggling them.

"Where are they?"

"Dad heard your examinations are done, so he went with Uncle to talk to the doctor. Uncle convinced him to let me wait here. I was...scared 'cos he said you're awake," she elaborated, still flexing her fingers. She seemed to be avoiding all visual contact with him. "Is your...shoulder okay? It was gross-looking after you got hit."

"What did happen after I got hit?" he asked, frowning slightly. He hadn't gotten the story from Auron quite yet.

Fuu hugged her legs tighter, her hands balling into fists. "That asshole that hit you kept going. He never stopped. Didn't try to make sure you were okay," she growled, gritting her teeth. Shaking her head, she said, "I didn't know what to do. You were just lying there, you know? Seifer and Rai came, and we moved you to the sidewalk. God, it was brutal. You looked so fucked up. I think that's why Captain Asshole didn't stop."

Other little sisters might've started crying when recounting such a story. Zexion expected something from the usual apathy, but Fuu was a temperamental girl – and she was getting angry. In its own weird way, the gesture was endearing. It was the first time in years that he could see she cared for him.

Maybe she never stopped, he thought, remembering her outburst. It made him wonder how he viewed his sister. What was his position? What were his feelings?

"Seifer and Rai?" he prompted skeptically.

Knowing what he was really inquiring about, Fuu narrowed her gaze defensively. "We may not be model students, but we're capable of being actual friends. I needed them, so they helped. It's not a hard concept," she hissed. Then she gasped and put her hands over her mouth. "N-no, I didn't come here for that. I wanted to say I was sorry. I'm sorry you had to get hit. Why...why didn't you let it be me? Fucking God, Zexion, you're going to college next year, and now the money for your school will be for hospital bills!"

"It would've been the same situation had you been hit," he reasoned simply.

"Shut the fuck up," she snapped, but Zexion now knew enough to infer this was more of a reflex rather than her actually being mad at him. "You're so goddamn stupid for a smart person." She sniffed, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. Soon after, tears began falling.

Now Zexion felt awkward. Even when Fuu talked, he hadn't known how to deal with her when she cried. It was like it was the strangest sight in the world to him, to see someone crying. This time wasn't any different. He froze, wondering what to do as Fuu sniffed.

"Um... Does this circumstance require me to ask if...you want to come here?" he tried sincerely.

She pierced him with her glare. "Come where?"

"Here," he explained tersely, frustrated that she was making this more difficult for him. He gestured as best as he could with her expression. "The situation would call for hugging, I think, but considering my arms are like this... You could just sit here with me on my bed." At her blank stare, he sighed, but not impatiently. "I'll make this plain, Fuujin. I'm not mad at you."

Incredulity stole her expression. "How can you not be mad?" she asked, voice trembling. "Should be."

"It's not as if you hurt me. After all, you didn't leave me."

"You expected me to, though, didn't you?" she accused softly.

He didn't see the point in lying. Somehow lying could be seen as the same thing as the neglect he'd inflicted on her for years. That's what his sister had all but insinuated – that he'd left her. He nodded in answer to her question. "Yes, I did," he murmured. To his surprise, his cheeks grew slightly warm – in what? Shame?

"I didn't though," she said insistently. "I didn't leave my brother. Even when Dad didn't want me near you."

Zexion blinked in surprise. "He thinks it's your fault," he concluded with a grimace. He shouldn't have expected any less from their father. "I can inform him that's not the case."

Fuu shook her head. "That's fine. I feel like I deserve it, you know, just a little," she said with chuckle. She smiled somewhat awkwardly, chancing another look at him. "Because I yelled at you like that, then left. If I had to be truthful, I didn't...think you'd follow me."

"I suppose we're both surprising each other," Zexion said in light amusement. When his sister laughed softly at that, he couldn't keep from making a small smile. Talking like this gave him a queer feeling. It felt like he was talking to both a stranger, and an old friend – like a sister he'd ignored for years.

"Why did you stop talking to me?" she whispered, resting her cheek on her knees.

Turning to face her, he pointed out, "To be fair, you stopped talking first. After that phone call a few years ago."

"But you had already changed by then. I'm not saying that I liked that Zexion better, because...I know how much you hated being that person." Knowing was deep in her eye. "but at least you didn't ignore me. I hoped you would still talk to me, you know?" She sighed, getting up and coming to his bed. When the slate-haired teen didn't protest, she crawled on and curled like a cat at his feet. It was a childish gesture that proved how little their relationship had moved on.

In this room are two children.

"I didn't know you smoked marijuana, Fuujin."

"It's relaxing," she replied simply, shrugging. She wasn't looking at him, but near his drip bag.

"That substance is horrible for your mind and body," he said with a frown. "Do you do anything else? Heroin? Morphine? Pills?"

The bed sheets rustled as his sister shot up, eye wide. "Chill," she said, holding up a hand. "I am not hardcore with drugs, Zexion. Weed's really all I do. I haven't even gotten into cocaine; that shit made my nose bleed." She sighed, straightening up, counting off her fingers. "I don't do alcohol, either. Something about the image of a girl with a can of beer getting drunk of her ass really bugs me."

"So marijuana is really it?" he asked, somewhat skeptically.

"Yeah. But that doesn't make it any more okay," she said guiltily, curling up once more.

Gazing at his little sister intently, he nodded. "You're right," he choked out in a raspy voice. He closed his eyes, feeling his bottom lip tremble. God, how did things get so messed up? He didn't even know where all the broken pieces were to himself, to this family. This isn't a family Hasn't been for years.

Pressing himself into his pillows, he whispered, "It doesn't make anything okay." When he opened his eyes, he was crying, tears pouring uncontrollably down his cheeks. It confused him, but he knew why he was so sad.

Zexion thought he had found the solution to everything. It ended up making him part of the problem.

He didn't say anything. For once he couldn't find any of the words. Luckily it seemed he didn't need to say anything. Fuujin looked over at him, shock on her face as she took in the image of her apathetic big brother actually showing enough emotion to know he was upset. That, maybe, he was grieving and regretting the past.

Slowly, her lips parted, she nodded. She began crying again too, and she nodded. It seemed like aimless nodding, but it was what went unspoken that she was referring to. They hadn't talked in so long, but they learned to read others because of this. Words weren't needed with the Anderson siblings. They knew. Zexion knew.

Ending A/N: So this ended up having very little Demyx in it; less than I thought x'D I apologize, I just thought it was important Zexion and Fuu had their little moment together. IT proved to be very interesting to write - they have such different personalities that it didn't turn out like a typical heartwarming scene as I suspected it would xD I hope it wasn't too difficult to understand -bows-

EDIT: Thank you to Guest-san for correcting me on one of the facts I put x'D I'm sorry, I get all that from random websites -bows profusely in apology- Oh, and I don't think you're full of crap! D: -glomps-

Please be kind and review~ Your thoughts are always appeciated :)