The Next Life - Chapter Four
"Zexion!"
"What?"
"Have you seen my shoes?"
'No."
Demyx hurriedly inspected the crowded floor of his closet once more. Just where had he left them? He absolutely did not want to be late again. He had made Xigbar wait last time. Xigbar wasn't letting him forget it.
"Are you sure?" he called out again, more than a little whiney even by his own admission.
"Oh well done, Demyx, you called my bluff. I know exactly where you keep your shoes. You know, considering the fact that I haven't been here in nigh on three years. And your house is a mess. And you dump all your stuff right where you take it off-"
"Alright alright! I simple 'no' would be fine too, you know."
"Then, no."
Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Demyx straightened and scanned his room again. Like the rest of his house, the walls were a deep blue, framed by darker blue curtains an even darker blue ceiling. It always reminded him of being under the ocean, which was an oddly peaceful thought. Most of the time anyway. Not particularly so when he was panicking over his apparently missing footwear.
Sitting down in defeat on his bed – which jiggled in response, being a water bed and all – Demyx tried tackling the problem from a different angle. They couldn't really be in his room. He had an amazing deficit of furniture for them to hide behind in here, considering that most of the floor space was taken up by loose items of clothing. He had already torn his way through said ocean of clothing too, so they definitely weren't hiding under there. Oh, why hadn't he just bought two pairs? That would've made things a lot easier.
He whined wordlessly to accompany his astounding defeat. Okay shoes, you win again. In response, Zexion's voice came from down the hallway once more.
"Demyx."
"...yeah?"
"Your shoes are by the door."
"...Oh!"
Of course! It was so simple. In a very mildly embarrassing flashback, Demyx recalled finding them there last time too. Well ... bah, never mind. He'll look there first next time. He was sure of it. Springing down the dark blue hallway happily, Demyx completely rejected any suspicion that he may have come to the exact same conclusion last time as well.
Coming to the glass framed doorway, Demyx indeed found his sneakers huddled together protectively by the doorway. Defensively sitting next to them were Zexion's polished work shoes; glistening black in comparison to the dull discolouring of his sneakers. Reminding himself that Zexion was indeed still wearing the doctor's coat he had turned up in last night, Demyx scanned the hallway for Zexion himself. He peeked into the lounge, finding no sign of life whatsoever – excluding of course his well fed goldfish; Bubbles. Leaning back into the hallway Demyx jumped to find Zexion standing next to the doorway, peering out the window intently. Well, that was just plain weird.
"There's some guy standing outside," he said.
"Oh?" Demyx replied. Perhaps it was Xigbar. "Does he look like a pirate?"
"Nope. He looks like a lawyer."
True enough, when Demyx peered through the opposite side of the doorway there was indeed a stockily built lawyer man standing on the footpath. He had creepy black braids hanging down all over the place, and the all-too-clean black suit he wore looked absolutely out of place against the sight of the white van behind him.
"What do you think?" Demyx whispered stealthily. Zexion was silent for a moment before answering.
"In my experience, the only people who try to impress everyone they meet are trying to hide something."
It was an effort for Demyx not to snort in disbelief.
"Wow, sceptical much?"
Zexion turned his head, giving Demyx a flat look.
"You did ask."
Demyx waved him to silence, pointing quickly out the window at what was going on outside. With his nose practically pressed up against the window pane, Demyx watched as the white van pulled out from the side of the street, driving off smoothly, leaving the braided lawyer guy staring after it thoughtfully. As the van disappeared from sight Demyx turned back to Zexion.
"Maybe he's a spy," he offered enthusiastically.
Expecting some type of witty comeback in reply, Demyx was quite disappointed when Zexion merely flinched and inched back from the window just a little.
"Oh, come on! Who would be spying on you Zexion, of all people?"
Zexion didn't take his eyes from the window.
"...Yeah, you're right. I don't know," he replied lamely.
Demyx was entirely unconvinced. Noting once more that Zexion was still in his pristinely white doctor's coat, Demyx pondered for a moment. After the phone call this morning he had just assumed Zexion had driven here straight from the hospital out of worry for his dying patient, or something. Demyx could've believed that – it was Roxas Cain after all, the, like, richest guy in town – but now he wasn't entirely sure. Was Zexion possibly hiding from something else? He'd been pretty upset with the news of Roxas Cain, but it was entirely possible that his surprise visit was caused by something not in any way related whatsoever.
As he opened his mouth to just plain ask the guy, Zexion pointed out the window and spoke, derailing his train of thought completely.
"Is that your pirate guy?"
Demyx looked outside. Sure enough, Xigbar was curiously now engaged in a very hushed conversation with the braidy law man. It looked quite funny, really. One man with waist length thick dark braids, the other with a waist length black ponytail, streaked with grey. The lawyer looked scarier for a certainty, but then again, Demyx knew Xigbar. Underneath his heavily scarred exterior he was most probably the least intimidating person Demyx knew.
"Just what are you going for again?" Zexion murmured.
"We're getting coffee," Demyx chirped excitedly. Demyx loved coffee, almost as much as he liked sugar. A sudden thought occurred to him and he spun his head back to Zexion. "Oh! Did you wanna come too? It could be fun!"
Zexion kept looking straight ahead, but there was a long pause before he answered.
"It's alright. I'll stay here."
Demyx searched his response for any nervousness or holding back, but he suspected that Zexion just quite honestly did not want to go. He had never been much of a group person.
"You sure?"
"Completely." Zexion straightened from their spying, turning back to the lounge. "Just don't let the pirate man steal your booty."
Demyx decided not to read too far into that.
"Wait!"
He caught Zexion's arm at the doorframe. Zexion looked back expectantly.
"Do I look okay?" He swept a glance over himself as he asked. Dark blue jeans, light blue shirt. Would he really wear anything else?
Zexion gave him a flat look in response.
"...What? I have a reputation to uphold!"
"With whom?"
"Why, my public, of course!"
With a snort and a wave of his hand, Zexion disappeared back into the lounge. Before Demyx could follow, knocking sounded at the front door. Time to go then.
"Seeya Zex!"
He heard no reply as he quickly slipped out door but was instead immediately greeted by Xigbar.
"Heya Kiddo!" he said as he excitedly clapped Demyx on the shoulder. "Have you been a good boy?"
Xigbar's speech was dripping with his Californian accent, yet even with that aside he was infamous within Demyx's mind for saying things in the weirdest way possible. You got used to it, eventually, but on the odd occasion you were still left wondering if he had meant what you thought he meant, or had meant something else entirely. On these occasions, Demyx felt it was best to just stop thinking altogether.
"Yaha," Demyx bounced, "but come! Coffee awaits!"
Xigbar muttered something incoherently Californian as Demyx made a bee line for the other man's rusty brown car - parked rather conveniently where the white van had been only moments before.
Once safely in the passenger seat, Demyx turned to Xigbar as he climbed inside.
"How've you been Xigbar?"
"Wha?" Xigbar toned, carefully peering through each of the mirrors in turn. He looked back at Demyx blankly for a moment before continuing. "Oh! Oh, right, of course." He started the car and pulled out into the street. "It's this ... this whole craaazy thing ..."
Demyx waited a little longer before realising Xigbar wasn't actually going to answer his question. He was instead avidly spouting out half sentences that made no sense whatsoever while he peered eagerly out the window. Demyx was baffled. Was there something on his face? He quickly leant over and checked himself in the side mirror. Nope, nothing unusual there. His hair was fine too, sticking straight up as always.
"Xigbar?"
"Mm?"
"Are you okay and everything?"
Xigbar didn't take his eyes from his scanning of the streets as he answered.
"Hmm? Oh, 'course, yeah. Exactly." He gestured vaguely with his left hand. "There's like, a lot of things. Man, could be anything, y'know?"
Demyx was confounded. He decided that sitting in silence was far less confusing, and so waited patiently instead. At least the coffee was going to be good.
His patience continued all the up to the point where they were both sitting at their table outside Ma Dincht's Coffee and Cake Emporium. The cafe itself was rather richly furnished on the inside, but the sunshine had drawn the majority of the customers out to bask in it. On the outside, most of the patterned glass tables - with quirky umbrellas sticking out the middle, no less – were already taken. Sitting at one of the few remaining empty ones nearer to the road, Demyx stared at the sky blue canvas canopy overhead. They had good taste in colour - that was for certain.
Leaning back in the tacky cane chair – all attempt at conversing with Xigbar long since abandoned – Demyx smiled at his surroundings. They were amazingly pleasant. The sky was bright and open, and the people surrounding him reflected this in turn. The crowded tables echoed with the jubilant life of a coffee shop, with staff bustling to and fro while customers eagerly complained about the infinite problems they had within their daily lives. The air was filled with the sound of cups clinking and the smell of coffee beans. It was wonderful.
Then, of course, there was Xigbar. He wasn't really that old, but his face was host to any number of grizzly scars. This, combined with the grey streaks in his otherwise long flowing hair, projected the image of a man far older than he really was. He was only, like, thirty something, from memory, yet he could easily pass for fifty. The way his hair was drawn back emphasised his ears, which somehow always seemed rather pointy. Combining this with the ever present eye patch he always wore – and, of course, his yellow eye - Xigbar wasn't exactly left as what one would call ... say, appealing to the eye, yet his normal exuberance and sense of fun more than made up for that. That was, of course, normally. Now he just seemed absolutely ridiculous, looking from side to side with narrow eyes inspecting everyone around them. Demyx rubbed his forehead in thought. Xigbar was supposed to be fun to have coffee with, not leaving Demyx to monologue to himself. There was something seriously wrong with this picture.
Giving in to the crazy for just a moment, Demyx looked in the direction Xigbar was peering in.
"Whatcha looking for?"
Xigbar's head whipped around – ponytail flying – to stare at Demyx. He opened his mouth once, then smiled and made a spikey gesture above his head.
"Do you know aaanyone with red hair? Like this?"
Demyx stared incredulously at his hand motion, trying to figure out just what 'like this' meant.
"Uh ... I don't think so?" he squeaked.
"Hmm," Xigbar mumbled into his coffee cup, looking back to his right, "there are others too ... don't know what they look like ..."
Having had enough of this completely uncharacteristic display of nervousness, Demyx clapped his hands together in front of Xigbar's face. It worked. Xigbar was now looking directly at him like he was a crazy person. Had he been a cat, he would've had his ears laid back, snarling face ready to hiss.
Demyx smiled.
"Who was your friend?"
Xigbar blinked in reply, clearly not following.
"Uh, what friend?" he asked, Californian surfer accent making Demyx's ears tingle slightly.
"You know, the guy you were talking to outside my house?"
"Uh ... oh! Him? I uh... I don't know him," Xigbar reasoned, eyes reverting back to their inspection of the other tables once more. "He's just ... some crazy guy. On the street."
"Really? But, you weretalking to him, weren't you?"
"Well yeah, but-"
"You were talking for quite a while actually. It took forever."
"You saw that huh? Well, he's uh ... He's in the mafia."
"The mafia?"
"Yup."
"Didn't they round up the Pleasantview mafia just last year?"
"... The Chinese mafia."
"Chinese mafia?"
"Yeah, that's right. They got my kids. Wanna ransom."
"Dear god! That's horrible! You should call the police or something! You have, haven't you? I'm so sorry to hear about your children Xigbar! I didn't even know you had ki-"
"Look, I'm sorry. I need to use the bathroom just quickly. I'll be right back," Xigbar blurted as he practically fled inside. Taking a sip of his coffee slowly, Demyx watched him walk inside.
He might have over done it, just a little. Still, Xigbar had it coming to him. It practically broke all the international rules of coffee drinking to ignore the person you were sitting with - most especially when this person was Demyx himself; the self proclaimed king of all things caffeinated. Xigbar was just lucky he couldn't actually use his kingly might to have him executed for heresy. Not yet anyway.
Casting his eyes around the surroundings, Demyx looked for something else to hold his fleeting attention span. His eyesight settled on a table just to the left of his. It was host to two rather pretty girls, both around Demyx's age. Whoever they were, they would now be the unwilling prey of Demyx's expert eavesdropping skills. Oh yes, they would.
"It's not quite what I was expecting," the one on the left was saying. She had long black hair, and apparently had a thing for black leather clothing. She waved a gloved hand in the air to make her point. "You know, being a date with Squall and all."
"Leon," the girl opposite her corrected, "His name is Leon." This girl had a sizeable braid down her back and, completely contrasting the other girl, wore a bright pink dress.
"Oh, come on," the first girl was complaining again, "You know who I'm after. You can stop pretending now. He has spikey hair."
"Like that brown haired kid over there?" She pointed in curiosity at another table off to Demyx's left.
"Spikier."
Demyx was bored already.
He settled for drumming his fingers across the glass table top. First in one tune, then in another. Then both at the same time. Dear god, why had he even bothered coming?
A tingling sensation passed through Demyx's fingers rather suddenly. He looked down.
For the second time that day, Demyx's mouth dropped open in a combination of both shock and disbelief. He did, to his credit, manage to not scream this time. Before his tingling fingers sat his coffee cup; white porcelain with a thick blue stripe encircling it. His coffee, however, was not patiently lying inside it's cup like it was supposed to be doing – it was floating several inches above it, rippling wildly like a pinpricked bubble.
Demyx stared wide eyed for few seconds. Then he leaned in closer. Just what was this? Demyx instinctively gripped the table with both hands. Immediately, the floating sphere of discoloured coffee split into two smaller yet equally amazing spheres - spinning wildly in the process.
He watched them placidly, absolutely amazed by the sight. They ... spun. Very slowly, but it was definitely spinning. The two spheres of floating coffee danced calmly in front of Demyx, and he was left wondering just how much of his sanity was left. It was the sugar, wasn't it? It was finally giving him rabid hallucinations. He was a crazy person, and his beloved coffee was the unwilling herald of this mad injustice. Great. Just great.
It occurred to him that other people could possibly look over and see this strange display - or whatever it was - but Demyx ignored his instinctive need to look around. He had the strange feeling that once he looked away, the floating coffee would be gone forever. He didn't want it to stop. It was too pretty for it to do that. His fingers continued to tingle as Demyx loosened his grip on the table top slowly. What would happen if he touched one? He raised a finger very slowly, reaching towards it. His finger suddenly started to tingle quite a lot more, causing him to retract his hand. The untouched spheres stopped spinning, hanging completely motionless in the air. Then, they rippled.
That was, of course, until the peaceful hubbub around Demyx was shocked into silence by a low rumbling roar. The screech of a car suddenly braking immediately followed, and all heads whipped around to stare. Demyx's head whipped around instinctively with everyone else's - but with a sudden yelp of surprise Demyx sprang to his feet. Mildly hot coffee splashed across the table, drenching his shirt completely. Back to his left the low pitched rumble echoed once more. The roar seemed louder this time, sounding inexplicably like holes being torn in reality. Looking to the street, Demyx could see a swarm of people gathering around the car that had braked so suddenly, wordlessly watching something on the road. Whatever it was, they were blocking it off from sight completely, but he did manage to make out the sight of black smokey tendrils before they quickly vanished.
Demyx took a step towards the commotion, but immediately jumped back when some brown haired guy pushed past him. He was urgently shouting something that sounded a little like 'eekoo' as he made his way through the onlookers – shoving his way through really - completely avid to get through. With an indignant snort at the spikey haired jerk, Demyx turned and walked in the other direction. Whatever was going on, Demyx did not fancy the thought of getting caught up it, especially not if it involved filling out any police reports. He most certainly wasn't going to stick around waiting for Xigbar either, not when he was acting like a complete nutter, and definitely not when his coffee decided it was time to spontaneously come to life.
He still wasn't quite sure what the heck had happened there, but he knew for a certainty that he was now left in a coffee drenched shirt. Just the way it clung wetly to his skin irritated Demyx. Stupid magic coffee. Whatever the heck the coffee wanted from him, it would just have to wait until Demyx got back home and changed clothes again. He'd probably have to end up doing laundry while he was at it. He was running dangerously low on clean blue shirts these days.
Zexion spent a good deal of his afternoon pacing uncomfortably through Demyx's lounge. It just didn't feel right to sit down and relax. It felt ... pompous. Arrogant even. Not because it wasn't his house, but because there was someone out there who would never be able to do any such thing ever again, and it was all thanks to Zexion. It felt awful. Ever since the call this morning he had felt like a huge weight had been lifted off his chest – a huge weight – and yet, even without taking the blame, the weight on his conscience hadn't shifted. If anything, getting away with it made it feel heavier than ever before. He wasn't sure how long he would last before the weight crushed him completely.
He hesitated slightly, then sat tentatively down on the couch. It hadn't always been this hard. He could easily recall a time where he'd been able to send people to their deaths without feeling even the slightest bit of remor- woahwaitwhat?
Zexion's hands shook slightly as he took his head in his hands. What was he thinking? He had never killed before! Never! This Roxas thing was just a one off freak accident that would never, ever happen again.
Getting to his feet very carefully, Zexion examined his reflection in the window. A very dishevelled and weary looking Zexion looked back at him. His mind had made far too many slips like that for comfort. He was losing it, officially, and yet ... he was more than certain that those who lost their sanity were usually the last ones to know about it. In either eventuality, he had to wonder what was happening to him. These thoughts that were not his own - let alone the murder – they just felt... as much as it pained him to say it, at the time they felt absolutely right. It was as if these thoughts had always been a part of him, yet that thought scared him to the very core. It was impossible to remember things that had never happened. He wasn't going to allow himself to consider anything otherwise.
Letting his mind wander, Zexion glanced out the window absently. There were two kids outside running up and down the sidewalk, their arms out to either side pretending to be some kind of deformed aircraft. How long had it been since Zexion had been that carefree? Quite some time - even before killing Roxas. It made him feel slightly better when he attempted to attribute the murder to the spontaneous thoughts that didn't belong to him. At least that way he felt it wasn't completely his fault. If someone else's thoughts were in his head at the time, then it wasn't exactly-
One of the kids outside had stopped playing airplane. He was staring straight into the window Zexion was standing at, eyes wide and mouth fully open in shock.
Zexion blinked.
The kid screamed bloody murder and ran up the street, arms flailing in panic.
... Well, that was odd.
Zexion felt a slight tingling sensation leave his shoulders as he turned back to the living room. Even as he did so, his problems came crashing back to his mind. He wished his thoughts would stay his own. He wished he had never killed Roxas Cain. He wished he was able to forget all this and just move on. Most of all, he wished Demyx would come back home. Demyx's presence was reassuring to say the least. He wasn't left to mentally beat himself up when he was enjoying Demyx's company.
He looked out the window once more, with no kids anywhere in sight. At least Demyx could come back, unlike Roxas...
... No. You know what? Screw it.
He flexed his fingers and rolled his shoulders gently. Demyx wasn't here, true, but that didn't mean he had to mope about like a mindless Dusk. He needed something to do to keep his mind occupied. He swept his gaze across the room.
Finding nothing promising, he strode with purpose into the kitchen. Quite prominent on the kitchen counter was a half opened newspaper. It wasn't quite his preferred reading material, but this wasn't exactly the time to be picky. Seizing the initiative he sat down, pulling the stool in close to the bench and flicking back to the front page.
Staring straight back up at him was a smiling picture of Roxas Cain, complete with dangerously spiked hair and cheesy money-filled smile. It was enough to make Zexion want to scream.
He unclenching his fists slowly, Zexion exhaled. Not the optimal reading topic, but again, no time to be picky. Zexion settled down and started to read.
It was pretty straight forward really, one sentence after another after another. Before he knew it he had finished the amazingly under-detailed account of Roxas' sudden death and had moved onto the one just below it, this time discussing the mysterious act of arson two nights previous. Through his knowledge that this was the fire that had mortally injured Roxas in the first place, Zexion knew this article was practically a slight extension of the first - yet the focus was completely different. Instead of regaling important and tragic details of how loved the famous Roxas Cain had been, the article spent it's time theorising the possible causes of the sudden fire, coming to the precise conclusion that one man was at fault. That was, of course, the only man that had been seen leaving the scene. Apparently the arsonist at large was host to a head of red hair and a pair of facial tattoos. Not exactly the most detailed physical description he had ever read, yet he had the impression that if they had any further information they wouldn't be holding it back.
Zexion considered the articles slowly for a moment, running a hand through his hair as he did so. Something about them nagged at Zexion's mind, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it, a name that had leaped out at him or something. He settled down to read over them again.
Half way through the article he found it; a quote from M. Xemnas, chief resident of Pleasantview Hospital and certainly the most brilliant mind Zexion had ever encountered. It made sense that they would interview him over a tragedy occurring in his own hospital and all, yet the precise wording he had gone with irked Zexion to no end. 'He will be sorely missed,' clearly meaning Roxas, 'as one of the more promising youths of the generation. The staff who attended him mourn their loss greatly.'
Mourn their loss indeed! Roxas had been an ill deserving twerp, and the only staff who had attended him was Zexion himself. Of course, from the public view Xemnas' statement would read as well as any generic statement of sympathy, yet being mentioned directly like that brought back all the thoughts Zexion had been trying to distract himself from. Thank you, Xemnas. Thank you very much.
As he pushed the paper away in disgust a word struck his line of sight. Dragging the paper back before him, Zexion scanned the second article for the thing that had caught his eye.
There it was again; Xemnas. This time he was offering an award for any information brought to him directly concerning the arsonist. Now that was ... odd. Zexion wasn't exactly an expert in public matters, but surely it was the police who normally dealt with information concerning crimes like arson. Why would Xemnas be sticking his neck into this one? The only link Zexion could think of was the fact that this arsonist in particular had been the one that had killed the high and mighty Roxas - according to public opinion anyway. Was that Xemnas' goal? Bring justice to the community and get positive media attention? He had never seemed the type to be even slightly concerned with media image, yet here he was, twiddling his fingers and getting people to love him. At least, that's what ...
A chill passed through Zexion. Something clicked.
Xemnas, actively searching for the apparent killer of Roxas Cain.
Xemnas, who would have been directly involved in determining the exact cause of Roxas' death.
Xemnas, who would have had to approve Zexion taking the rest of the week off.
Xemnas, who had checked on Zexion moments after he had accidentally killed Roxas himself.
Xemnas, the medical genius, who had looked past Zexion and had clearly seen the deceased form of Roxas, yet had said not a word.
Zexion's hands shook as his eyes flicked back to the top article. 'The staff who attended him mourn their loss greatly...'
Xemnas knew.
It made perfect sense, yet it was in complete defiance of everything Xemnas had done. Seeing Roxas dead, why had he not confronted Zexion immediately? Why would he not ask him about it at all, let alone clear his name completely and begin a search for the suspected arsonist? It was unnerving. Completely and utterly unnerving.
Xemnas' face swam before his eyes and Zexion couldn't help but close them immediately. Xemnas knew and was letting him get away with it. But why would he do any of the things he was doing if he knew?
Zexion thought desperately. To know something and to be acting contrary, Xemnas must have some other goal. A goal that needed Zexion out of trouble, somehow involved this mysterious arsonist, and was clearly oblivious to the death of the town's most revered socialite. Or was the death part of the plan all along? Had he been on his way to do the deed himself when he found Zexion had already done it for him?
Getting to his feet, Zexion paced the kitchen, utterly unable to sit still. He could figure this out. He was genius material. He would figure this out.