I was lying down, on top of the quilt, my torso propped against the headboard. Mr Slater lay next to me. Our shoes were on the floor, both pairs right next to one another, perfectly aligned, laces tucked inside, and they were pushed under the bed, where they wouldn't get scuffed or dirty. We weren't doing anything I wouldn't tell you about: we were both still mostly dressed: I'd unbuttoned some of my shirt, and both jackets were on the back of the chair. Even in little more than a T-shirt and dark jeans, Mr Slater still looked so much more business-like than I.
We were still talking, but the atmosphere was sweet as honey, but clear and fluid as milk.
"So… Demyx? What to you do? In your time off?" This one was obvious. If he'd been asking about the Organization, I wouldn't have answered.
"I play music. My sitar." He nodded slowly, his eyebrows raised, looking impressed. "And you, Mr Slater?" A daring question, but he didn't mind this one.
"I search to find myself. But with you… I don't think I need to." I didn't understand the 'finding himself' part, but I understood what he meant, and I leaned over and kissed him. Asking about him never ever achieved results. "How about you play me a tune?" He asked, settling down, and I felt my face go red. Nobody had ever, ever, asked me to play, in the Organization, and only a few select members didn't tut whenever I played unrequested, so I hesitated. "Please?" He wheedled, and I felt myself grin, and summon the sitar, from moisture in the air. He smiled widely, and I moved over to the armchair, and sat myself down, resting the sitar between my left foot and right knee, crossing my legs, as much was as possible. Whispering the beat to myself, I played some low notes on the three strings, slowly, but then plucked a crescendo of rich solid sounds, and worked it into a strong melodic riff. This was the only time since I'd met him that my thoughts were off Mr Slater, but instead focused on something I could control. After about a minute of playing, I stopped to a politely quiet back-of-the-hand applause from my friend, and returned to my seat on the bed, where it was much, much warmer, and Mr Slater had left unoccupied, and I slid up next to him again. It was now eleven o'clock: time had flown so quickly.
"When did you start playing?" He asked me. We were lying down properly, now, looking directly at the other, our heads resting in one hand each, and elbows on the burgundy pillow. I couldn't draw my mind from his immaculate face or lips, and thinking back was beyond me.
"I don't remember."
"I'm tired, Demyx." I was worried.
"Do you have to go?" I asked.
"No. I have to sleep." He replied, pulling off his t-shirt, jeans and socks very quickly, and threw the lump of clothes into the lap of the armchair. From there, he slipped beneath the duvet. I only caught a glimpse of his bare bronzed skin and black boxers, before he was beneath the sheets.
"Do you want me to go?" I asked. I didn't want the evening to end, but I didn't want Mr Slater to feel uncomfortable, so stood up, giving him room on the small single bed.
"No Demyx. I don't want you to go." He patted the space beneath the duvet that wasn't occupied with him, and I nodded, and undressed myself, leaving the nice clothes on the desk. I left my boxers on as I slipped beneath the duvet, and pressed up to Mr Slater's warm, dry, firm body. But I had to say something, first.
"I don't want us to…"
"I wouldn't dream of doing anything you felt uncomfortable with." He cut through me, but I still felt I ought to explain.
"Not long before I met you, sir, I had something with Luxord." I could feel him tense (who didn't whenever people spoke of their ex's?), but I continued anyway. "When Xemnas found out, Luxord took cover behind me, and said he'd saw nothing in it, but hadn't wanted to crush my belief of having a heart, so went with the flow. I got all the blame, and didn't tell the truth about Luxord, because I still had feelings for him, but after a conversation with Xemnas, Vexen and he, I realized just how vicious he is. I don't want to rush anything just yet." Mr Slater's eyes locked into mine.
"I am not a means of getting back at Luxord, am I, Demyx?" he asked quietly.
"Of course not, sir!" I insisted, and he accepted, giving me the gift of another affectionate peck, though his eyes were still hard, not at me.
"That sounds like something Luxord would do," He muttered, irate. "Abandoning someone because it's easier than facing the consequences…" I didn't think to question how he knew this.
There we lay, together. There was almost no space, and our bodies were pressed right up together, but I didn't mind, and he didn't complain, although I couldn't tell what he was thinking. It was warm and dry, and although dryness wasn't something I was used to, I enjoyed it, and couldn't help but have that dozy grin on my face. He was now lying on his side, and murmured "Goodnight, Demyx." I bade him a pleasant sleep in return, and we closed our eyes, together.
