Okay, so I am one weird and inconsistent person! I was originally thinking of giving the chapters around a week in between so I could write more (since really, I used to be loads of chapters ahead, and for the past two or three, I've only written one more. Bad decreasing patterns, here!) But oh well. It's still here, and I figured you all deserved a new chappy.

I dedicate this chappy to dear Anonymous Saru and her misfortune of last night when her grandparents decided to have fun and scared her into an illness. Now she's just sick. But her grandparents are fine, and back from their Old People activity. And she thought they were too old to watch the stars...

Comments:
...fullmetalguitar: I hope the row's been settled, and thanks! I love Zexy-centric things, he's just too cute.
...Metal Chocobo: Teehee, zank yuu! I was thinking of Strip Rock, Paper, Scissors (learned about it in a Gravitation novel) when I was wondering, and thought, hey, that would be fun. Plus, it's so ridiculous, it could possibly work! I bet Axel won. -snork-
...ShadowAili: Thanks! That's my favorite part. But I think Zexion has truth issues, with the denial and shtuff.
...Mina The Forgotten Memory: I did too! I've been playing the game, and even though I'm certain he's male, he still looks like a chick to me... I blame the hair and the lipstick-look he has in one of the PS2 games.
...blackkeyblade: Teehee! Jesh, but ssh, Zexy doesn't know that yet!
...hanakitsunechan7: hehehe! I think Zexy's just got a bad case of denial. ...getting lost in raves is so chaotic, but the raves are so amazing (I got separated in my first one, with only glowsticks to see around with... but don't worry, I'm sure Zexy would do fine. I did.).
...Mr Harlequin: I loved Symphony. Disliked how it was over. But I'm glad this'll give you more of a Zemyx fix! You should read Dualism's and The Writer you fools' Zemyx fics, they're smex. (Teehee, shameless plugging!)

Whispered Melody
.vii.
See for Free and Beautiful

Sunday.

Demyx. Sugar, sweat, artificial smoke, and Demyx.

He wasn't quite sure what happened. He had gone to a night club for the first time in his life, lost his hearing to the stereo system, lost his sight to the abnormal contrast of the neon in the dark, lost his will for being alone. He had done this because he had been mesmerized by a boy and his music, and it landed him in a bed that wasn't his.

Zexion almost panicked when he woke, but realized the warmth of the sheets and the comfort of knowing he was safe right next to Demyx, and rolled over, ready to snuggle.

Wait. Snuggle? Zexion's eyes opened immediately. Though he hadn't panicked, he knew he needed to remember all of last night in vivid detail and reason his way through this. All he could remember was Demyx's bright smile lit by the neon blue of the strobes, the smoke machine filling his nostrils with a scent that vaguely reminded him of pancakes, and Demyx vaguely asking if he wanted to be dropped home.

He remembered falling asleep in the car.

So that meant Demyx took him home, like a stray puppy. But he was still in last night's clothing, as was Demyx, the only additions being the bed and the warmth. Zexion didn't seem to care so much, as he finally chose to shift closer to Demyx, letting the taller one drape an arm about him and tug him closer. He had to ignore the soft murmur of, "Teddy bear!"

He had gone back to sleep and woke a few hours later, still curled in the thick blanket, but the lack of a weight pressing on the other side made him wonder. Where had Demyx gone? He first suspected a one-night-stand, only to realize that not only did they not have sex, but it was Demyx's home to begin with. He doubted it was a hotel; far too messy, and blue.

Lots of blue. Different shades, patterns, pictures, waves, and small bucket of sand in one corner.

Then it hit Zexion. The smell.

The Ocean...

Salty but pleasant, fresh, nice...

"You're awake! Good." Demyx held a comb in one hand, styling his hair with the other. He threw the comb onto a white and blue dresser and dropped to sit on the bed, crossing his legs childishly as he peered into Zexion's face. Chipper. Zexion didn't even feel the need to curse his existence as he looked up. "Last night, you seemed kinda tired so I just took you here. You don't mind, right? 'Cause I can drive you straight home if you--"

"Fine," Zexion muttered.

Too chipper, almost. Demyx just smiled in response and leaned forward a bit, blinking. "Zexy... you're really awake, right?"

"I am."

"Larx and Dad left earlier, so it's just us for a while. But it's better that way. Larx won't tease you and Dad's just... well, he knows how to annoy the shit out of you. Anyway... you like pancakes? I'm in the mood for pancakes."

Zexion slowly pushed himself to sit up, his eyes scanning Demyx's room as he tried to wake himself more. He was never a morning person, even with the hyper blond in front of him, who looked as if he had already jumped into a shower and run a marathon and had energy to spare. Demyx only smiled and leaned forward. "Zexy, what's your favorite type of pancake?"

He yawned slightly. "Plain." The simpler, the better. He liked everything that way; flavors, messes... Unless he was in control and could experiment, he liked it simple.

"Really?" Demyx seemed to write this bit of knowledge to memory, then tilted his head to he side. "You seem like you'd prefer blueberry, to me..."

Zexion blinked. "I've never tasted blueberry," he replied.

"Then today's your lucky day!"

And he was whisked off to the kitchen, Demyx's little helper as the taller one shuffled around in the kitchen, pulling things from shelves and counters and thrusting them into Zexion's hands to place on the counter. The kitchen didn't seem too clean, but the clutter made it look homely. Dirty dishes lined the sink, cookbooks resting on the counter, oven mitts pushed in places and clean plates in another. Zexion had to move things for room on the counter, but managed, and Demyx tugged him over quickly and they were making pancakes.

They spilled flour, dropped an egg, crashed into each other, and Zexion accidentally burned his finger, but the result smelled delicious when finished. He wrote it into his memory: blueberry pancakes. Demyx's blueberry pancakes... They had frozen waffles just in case Zexion had some awkward reaction to blueberries.

That morning, they ate at the table. Syrup, whipped cream, powdered sugar, oranges, even quick sausage from the microwave, and Zexion was sure he'd be well fed. It was a nice breakfast, as they listened to the radio for a little, then watched some of the news, then ended up trying to coat the other in as much powder as possible. So much for Demyx's clean look; by the time Larxene came in and killed their fun by calling them both idiotic children, plus some descriptive obscenities, they cleaned their flowery, sugar mess, then crashed on the couch.

So relaxed. No books, studying, isolation. Just a free spirit and three channels of cartoons. They had been curled up on the couch together when Zexion realized where he was. Demyx's house, in Demyx's arms, watching TV as if nothing was different. Just television, just them.

"Have you ever seen this show?" Demyx asked, pointing to the system in front of them.

"No... why? Is it good?"

"I dunno. Let's watch!"

His hand soon draped around Zexion's small frame, and their fingers entwined. The steady lifting and lowering of Demyx's even breathing was relaxing and comforting against his back, much more comfortable than the sinking cushions. Cuddling... he was actually voluntarily cuddling. But it was so relaxing that he didn't care.

Nothing could ruin the mood. Not even when Larxene came back from the grocery store and called them lazy and then mumbled about Zexion lying earlier about being gay--"He's not gay," Demyx explained, "he's bi!"--and not even when he was caught.

"Dem, it's Axel!" she said, handing him the phone.

Demyx took the phone with a grin and moved it to his ear. Zexion merely channel-surfed. "Yo, what's up?" He made a soft hum, and then snickered. "Oh, yeah, he's fine, don't worry." Zexion looked up quietly. "No, we didn't do anything, you dummy. He was sleepy..."

Zexion sighed and lifted his hand, silently asking for the phone. Demyx obliged, a tad confused, until Zexion muttered one calm phrase into the receiver: "It was only about the music, Axel."

And Demyx was back to telling Axel he was busy, and soon hung up the phone. They were soon back to the television, watching some odd cartoon. Satirical, for Zexion's amusement, and hilarious, for Demyx. After two episodes, they had fallen into silence. Larxene had slipped away again, and Zexion found himself kissing Demyx for a few minutes, a soft whisper escaping completely off topic between kisses.

"Come to the beach with me?"

Zexion paused, pushing Demyx back from him for a moment. "What?"

"Beach... come with me."

"Today?"

"Yes!"

"But Demyx... it's raining."

That comment only bought him five minutes, and he was soon given a white raincoat while Demyx pulled on a blue one, and he was tugged out of the house. They ended up going to a nearby park, running and walking about in the rain for a few minutes, some kisses here and there.

New, fresh, ocean.

Zexion learned that Demyx loved the water. He liked spinning around in it, liked dancing and singing, and burst out with a song.

"All the raindrops with lemon drops and gum drops..."

Sure, it wasn't the most mature of songs, but Zexion was, oddly, glad to hear it. Even through the pitter-patter of the rain, the song was loud and clear, melodic, and he had to smile. Small and brief, blurred from the falling raindrops, but Demyx caught it and continued to sing.

Sure, Demyx was strange. He didn't fit stereotypes, yet he was easy to read. Gentle, sweet, and powerful, with the voice of an angel. And he smelled like the ocean.

.vi...ix.

Monday.

Education.

Normality. It was a normal scene, Zexion perched in a chair in a World History lecture hall, taking notes silently as his pen. He took notes avidly, filling three pages on the Ido period alone, but on the corner of each page was a small symbol. Heart, music note, decorated Dem--

The bell rang and he promptly shoved his notebook into his shoulder bag and left the classroom with the rest of the students. It was ten past noon when he ran into Axel on the east side of the building, finding the redhead in the art room with two students, Marluxia and Hayner, in some odd conversation about Picasso and sexual orientation. Abnormal, but common.

Soon, Zexion and Axel were in the cafeteria for lunch. Cheap, close, and tolerable, plus the indoors provided a shelter from the rain. Zexion, once again, sat in front of a salad, stabbing at the tomato last as he talked to Axel on random things. Simple conversation, if not rather bland.

No protests, rallies, or anything worth discussing. They ended up feeding the pigeons their scraps--"Hey, Zex, think the pigeons are cannibalistic for eating the chicken?"--and soon Axel bounced off to his next class. Zexion did as always; he went home to study. He drove to his apartment, crashed on the couch, and pulled out a textbook. Homework was finished in minutes, reading completed within the hour. Now Zexion sat quietly in the living room, staring at the television set.

He didn't have those six channels of non-stop cartoons. All that aired currently was a Spanish soap opera, a Korean sit-com, and the news. Zexion tried to watch, as he normally did, silently sitting upright on his couch, everything neatly in place. Kitchen at absolute perfection, cushions placed neatly, bed made, bathroom sparkling...

Artificial freshener. Artificial.

Zexion went to a window for air, pushing it open and sticking his head out as he gasped deeply. He felt trapped, unnaturally so... alone, with the chemicals weaving their way to his insides, despite what he tried to do. Alone, with the silence deafening his ears, despite the wind blowing around his face. Alone, with the sight of nobody else. Nobody.

"I'm sitting here, so empty, Staring into the waste..."

Ten minutes later, he was running outside, tugging his jacket on as he hurried about. His feet squished water in his shoes as he ran across the sidewalks, hair curling in damp locks around his face, skin paling from the cold water against his skin. Cold, icy...

Rain water.

His feet didn't allow him to stop until he was seated on a park bench. He was numb to the cold, but it didn't matter. The weather seemed nice, drops falling their own patterns, released from their restraints in the air. They fell individually, attaching themselves to the ground or bouncing into puddles, landing on blades of grass, soaking through his clothing.

He just kept staring.

"Floating here, so empty, Drifting out to space..."

His eyes watched the park around him, mind absent of all thoughts, except one. Such a quiet park, like his existence... quiet without music.

Empty, except for the scent of the rain.

.vii. end .vii.

Oh yes. I am sick, cruel, and twisted. Angst is just in my nature. And all humor with Emo-Boy over there--

(Zexion: Hey! I'm not emo, I just brood...)

--with emo-boy over there, it just kinda found necessity. It should get better, but fluff kills me. I mean, I love it, but I melt and stay in this weird little puddle, and that wouldn't be good.

So as always, I was going through my music reservoir and 2 songs fit their relationship almost perfectly: Bones by The Killers and Sophomore Slump or Comeback of the Year by Fall Out Boy. I'm in love with these songs. (...yeah, my friends really are right. I'm so not black anymore.)

Remember, children, a daily dose of angst keeps the melting away!
And Music's good for exploring different ethnical tastes!

:Darkness Princess.