Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts. Sadly.
Author's Notes: I grappled with this for about a week. It didn't want to come out right, and I revised it at least a dozen times. Enjoy, and drop a review if you don't mind!
B r e a t h
I'll keep running until I fall, breathlessly, into your arms.
Demyx is sick of it. Lying, stealing, being called a crusader in the name of Kingdom Hearts. The only word in his mind was murderer.
He can't take it anymore.
Away – he has to get away from the self-righteous lies that are slowly suffocating him; pseudo-truths that justify their cause.
And so, he runs. Far and fast. Straight towards the unknown, fireflies hurling past him – a starlit daze – faster , faster, until he can no longer run anymore; he collapses in a long-grassed field.
His conscious no longer knows where he is— a portal to the unknown and a leap of faith later, he finds himself in the resemblance of purgatory. He suffocates in the quiet, the dark. Sanctuary.
Ragged breaths come in sporadic puffs, hot beads of sweat trickling down his weary body as if on an imaginary strings. He needs breath.
The echoes of his footsteps ring throughout his ears. Every thump and scrape of dust –futile steps further from deceit.
All of it is in vain – he knows escape is impossible. He knows that he'll be discovered. Yet, he believes – believes that if he keeps running, skittering farther and father from them like a frightened gazelle, he'll be free. Free to make his own choices; free to be whoever he wants.
He's drowning – falling into an endless abyss. He feels he'll soon grow mad with the silence. He needs someone. Anyone to tell him he's not a murderer, not just a tool, even if it's not real. He needs someone to say that he believes him, and I love you, Demyx, I love you.
Someone to say, "Come home."
And the stunned blond can hardly believe his ears as he feels arms tugging him to his feet, embracing him like a mother's lost child.
But his knees have gone weak with relief and buckle; for a moment he feels the sickly sweet sensation of falling, but arms are there to catch him, cradle him within warmth.
"Come home with me."
"I can't… Zexion, I can't…"
"You can."
"I can't… I'm not a murderer! I'm not…" he all but cries, his slender arms wrapping around his superior's lithe waist.
"You're not a murderer. You're not being used. Come home with me."
"I can't…"
"Demyx… I love you. Come home."
And Demyx falls speechless. Zexion knows – Zexion always knows. He knows that if he says those words, whispering them sweetly in his ear…
"Alright."
Because the truth is, he lives off these lies – off this deceit.
Because Zexion makes the silence disappear, the sound of his even breath the sweetest thing Demyx has ever heard.
Reviews, please? I love feedback. -wink-