Zexion was shorter than Demyx, and as the two of them proceeded silently down the hallway, the younger member felt rather like an overgrown child, following the mature adult down the pathway to enlightenment. Still, it was different from being the shadow of, say, Xaldin, who merely took that assumption from Demyx and played it out, strutting about the Castle and claiming to know things Demyx would only dream , yet all the while paying little attention to the Nobody behind him. It was stupid, really, but Demyx actually felt like Zexion was fixed with him right now, and only him.
It's not like Demyx wasn't aware of his obvious deficiencies compared to the rest of the Organization. And although the only requirements were approval from the leader and the overwhelming desire for a heart, Demyx still felt alarmingly out of place. He couldn't explain why he simply wanted to sit in the corridor and pluck the strings melodically instead of shedding blood and tearing hearts, but the thought never appealed to him. He was content with just being and doing what he could to assist the Organization, even if he couldn't do it well.
But it never deterred him from getting to know the other members, Axel in particular. The two even went on missions together at times, scouting out the worlds with disinterest and renaming the towns they favoured to suit their tastes better. And though Xigbar was an easy enough guy to talk to, the eager Nobody wouldn't waste any time in challenging Demyx to a one-on-on confrontation, if only to "tighten up their skills," or help Demyx "improve," neither of which Number IX took comfort in and quickly backed out, retreating into the deeper halls where he wouldn't be bothered.
But Zexion - Zexion was a mystery to him. A member that was part of the original six apprentices, and surely - surely - far more powerful than he let on. The boy - for essentially, wasn't he still a boy? - that convinced Ansem himself to build that underground laboratory that would eventually lead to the corruption of Xehanort and the experiments that led each of them into the darkness. With this reminder fresh in his brain, Demyx began to panic, twitching his fingers slightly as he opened his mouth once, twice, three times to ask what Zexion wanted, but each times words failed him.
Did Zexion need a test subject? A lab rat? Someone like Demyx that he could easily fool with the musician's constant optimistic behaviour and undoubting nature?
Despite these thoughts, Demyx continued to trail along behind Zexion, suddenly feeling weak in his legs as he watched the boy's hand drop to his side and the other one run idly through his hair.
He seemed…almost inhuman. Far more than the rest of them, at least. The quiet type. The one you always needed to watch out for.
They continued in silence as they descended through the Castle, going down far deeper than Demyx had ever thought about. Zexion finally halted when they reached a large white door, imprinted with a large lexicon and a small VI scribbled at the bottom, a Nobody sign etched into the doorway like it was made from the power itself.
Zexion stopped outside of this and scanned the white walls as if seeing them for the first time; he then looked back at Demyx who stood a short ways behind him, nervous and submissive.
"I've never had guests," Zexion stated plainly. "I hope you'll excuse my poor welcoming skills."
"Oh, not at all," Demyx replied quickly, trying vainly to sound as educated and proper as Zexion did, but immediately fumbling over his thoughts as he tried to figure out what he had just replied with. 'Not at all,' as in 'I don't mind at all;' or 'Not at all' as in 'that is not at all acceptable.'? While he mentally cursed himself for not simply saying 'No problem - it's cool," Zexion gave him a small smile.
"Come in, then."
And he opened the door, inviting Demyx inside of his own personal chamber, which, Demyx realized as he took his first steps inside, was drastically different from the four walled bedroom he had to himself on the upper levels. Staring around with an open mouth, he wondered blankly why on earth Zexion would want a heart back so badly if this is what he got for becoming one of the first generations of Nobodies.
The far wall was nothing but a giant window, the planed glass set to resembled the large Nobody emblem that reflected off of the other walls in the large, spacious room. A door on right hand side was left ajar, opening to what looked expectantly like a roomy study, books piled high from ceiling to floor and notes left scattered on the desk and chair. The main room itself was littered with chairs and sofas in sterile white and gray, giving the place an oddly contrasting look of being cleanly cramped.
"Wow," Demyx said lightly, crossing the room and stepping haphazardly around the various cushions to look out of window. The view held nothing but nothingness itself, but Demyx was still mesmerized. He rarely went outside anymore and was starting to forget what the world looked like outside of his black walls.
"You don't have a window?" Zexion called softly, shutting the door behind him.
Demyx shook his head. "No. I barely have a room. …I don't think Xemnas likes me much."
"No, I don't think he does either," Zexion replied, walking over and closing the door to his study. Demyx felt a twinge of surprise, but tried to clear his head. What had he been expecting? A 'Oh no, Demyx, you're lovely!' or a 'Xemnas likes you just fine, you know'? He mentally cursed himself. No one had ever made him feel useful before, why start now? Especially Zexion. Demyx may know very little about Number VI, but already his intensely stoic nature and reputation were proceeding him.
"I can see that he treats his favourites well," Demyx said, letting out a light laugh that was almost a bit too forced. "Show you off, maybe? Put your best foot forward, things like that."
Zexion stared at him intently, and Demyx swallowed, immediately regretting his words. "Xemnas doesn't reward loyalty, Demyx, only demands it. You are treated the way you are because you have yet to prove your worth, and will continue to remain where you are until you rise above your own faults."
"I give him loyalty," Demyx responded, his fingers cold on the glass as he stared back at Zexion through the reflection. "I give him what I can, but it isn't much. I mean, I know I'm not a good fighter, or the best with words, or miraculous at anything that could be considered notable, but at least I'm staying alive, right?"
"True," Zexion smiled. "And it's a bit ironic, really, since you're trying to much harder than I am to please. I get my rewards for merely existing; for helping to deceive before we knew the consequences. So, I suppose you could say that luxuries like mine are an apology. An atonement for what we unknowingly thrust ourselves into."
Demyx sighed and slumped to the ground, his head against the cool glass of the window as he watched the waves outside ripple and churn. "Still," he sighed softly, "it would be nice to have something different to look at for a change. You know what I mean?"
When Zexion didn't answer, Demyx turned back to find the boy watching him, a small smile playing at his face. "Yes," he answered, turning away. "I do."
Demyx, somewhat befuddled, refocused his gaze out of the window as Zexion began rummaging through drawers in a end table by one of the many couches. Demyx tried to ignore how the situation wasn't as tense as he thought it would be and not to burst out laughing at the relief he wasn't strapped down to a table as needles were being shoved into his arms.
But more direly, he tried to ignore how suddenly comfortable he felt.
"Here," Zexion said finally, pulling out a faded notebook and sitting across from Demyx; not close enough to reach out and touch him, but close enough to where he was able to whisper and still be heard. "I wanted to give this to you. I figured, you know, you'd find it more useful than I ever would."
Demyx glanced down as Zexion held out the notebook - a tore up little thing, with browned edges and water damage that would never be undone - and held it gently in his hands, weighing it and touching the sides gently; he had no idea what was contained inside, but he felt that any gift Zexion would give him deserved to be appreciated to its fullest extent. He ran his fingers over the spine (with Zexion watching him carefully through concealed eyes) and was about to open the cover when a knock on the door interrupted them.
Zexion stood up with a grace that Demyx would never have been able to mimic and walked quickly to the door, turning back to give Demyx a pointed look as his fingertips brushed the handle. Nodding frantically, with his breath caught in his throat, Demyx ducked down behind the couch and huddled there, the notebook clutched between his hands as he hid himself from view.
He wondered fleetingly why he didn't feel embarrassed. Unwanted. But at the same time, not only was he in Number VI's room, but holding a gift from the boy as well. Always to look on the bright side of things, Demyx found the whole situation entirely bearable, even amusing. If you had asked him not more than ten minutes ago what he expected to be doing, this would not have been at the top of the list.
He heard the door open and Vexen's voice rang out, laced in frustration.
"Zexion, what are you doing?"
Zexion replied calmly, his usual stance unperturbed. "Apparently, not what I'm supposed to be doing. What is it, Vexen?"
"You're next for the Twilight Town shift, you know this. Xemnas will be unforgiving if there is no one there to monitor the town."
"My shift doesn't start until two more days, or however time passes in that town," Zexion said, a light attempt at humour going unnoticed at the end. Not that Zexion cared, however. It was more sarcasm than anything else on his part.
"Larxene came back early."
"What? Why?"
Vexen sighed, irritated as he recounted, "She said the job is too frustrating to her, unable to leave behind the trail of dead she's known for. Xemnas gave her the city over by Wonderland. That place is falling apart anyway."
Zexion sighed. "Alright, I'm leaving. Just let me straighten something up in the back, and you can tell Xemnas that I'll stay there for my shift and the rest of Larxene's, if that's what he wants."
And with their goodbyes, Zexion closed the door behind him and walked back into the room towards Demyx.
"Come," he said lightly. "I'm leaving, and I doubt my Watchers will take too kindly to you lingering around this area without my presence."
Demyx didn't need to be told twice and jumped up towards the door, Zexion's notebook still pressed firmly against his chest. Zexion left with him, shutting the thick door and causing a small slam to echo through the corridor. Demyx glanced around for Vixen, but the man was long gone, back to his own studies.
Demyx jumped as a portal opened up behind him, and he turned just in time to watch Zexion stepping into it.
"Wait!" he said, and the boy halted, the wisps of his cloak barely catching in void, urging him onward and into the darkness.
Demyx faltered again in his speech as Zexion looked up at him through lidded eyes, storm-blue hair cascading down gently in front of his face and waving slightly in the faint suction of the portal. He waited, hands at his sides and eyes staring unblinkingly.
"Can I…can I come back? Once you're through?"
Zexion looked him over carefully, eyes raking over every part of Demyx he could see, and finally met his eyes once more, a colourful grey hues staring into blue orbs.
"Once you learn what's in that notebook, I expect you to come back. Music would make a nice change down here."
And with that, he stepped through the portal and vanished in a haze of darkness.
Utterly confused, Demyx stared at the spot Zexion vanished for a moment, as if hoping he would pop back out and ask Demyx to accompany him; when it became clear that it was out of the question, the musician carefully opened the notebook to the first page.
His frown turned into a smile as he ran a finger across the notes lovingly, admiring the written music that danced across the page and made his hands itch to learn.