He stepped forward into the room. The portal made as little noise as his feet, and he gazed around the white room, as clean as he'd left it. A suited figure he recognized as Mr Slater sat slouching on the bed. Despite himself, Luxord couldn't help but wonder how long he'd been there for: he had never ever seen Mr Slater slouch.

Not wanting to preserve his awkwardness, the hooded Luxord cleared his throat sharply, and Mr Slater's head flipped around to see the figure in Organization clothes, and immediately, the ghost of his misery made way for a carnival of joy over the thirty-something year-old man's mouth, and he jumped to his feet, and literally ran over the white marble to embrace his long lost love in a tighter than tight bear hug.

"Demyx!"

"…Not quite…" Mr Slater jumped back, horrified, as the blond man pulled back his hood. "Disappointed?"

"Yes." The slightly older man was making no promises. "Where is Demyx?"

"Dead. Killed by the Keyblade bearer." Mr Slater swore. Another first. "How are you, James?" No reply. Not even at the mention of the man's first name did he react; he just stood there, blankly for a few minutes.

"Why are you here?" he mumbled, slumping back onto the bed.

"I thought you ought to know."

There was another long silence.

"What happens now?" Asked Luxord, sitting next to his old friend on the bed, wrapping an arm around him as silent tears trickled down his face. Still nothing.

"I want him back…" whispered Mr Slater, but Luxord heard.

"I do too, James." Mr Slater was not best pleased.

"How can you say that?" his voice was forceful, and any interruptions from Luxord would have cost him dearly. "How can you possibly say that when you went to such efforts to keep him from me, from happiness?" he was now roaring in Luxord's face. "If it wasn't for him, you'd have no one here to console in you, and yet you broke his heart! You shattered him, you tore him up! Why? Because you were scared. Too scared to love him!"

Luxord hung his head.

Yet another period passed when no one spoke. But then, suddenly, a golden glow shimmered through the room with no light source.

"Luxord… Mr Slater…"

"Demyx?" they asked, together.

"Yeah… I only have a few minutes, as long as I had Luxord's heart."

Luxord held his gloved hand over his old friend's mouth to stop him from interrupting.

"I just want to say… I had a good run. I thank you both for what I had.

I just wish you'd let yourselves have the same.

Mr Slater… it was Luxord who rescued you, the last time we met.

Luxord… Mr Slater wanted you to have the heart for so long… please…"

Luxord interrupted, reaching out into the air, as though to seek Demyx.

"I have it…"

"Thank you."

Mr Slater spoke this time.

"What happens… after-?"

"When you die?

You kept enough secrets from me, sir.

I think you should be kept in suspense for a while yourself."

The voice was playful, and, despite their tears, both Luxord and Mr Slater couldn't help but pass a sorrowful chuckle.

"I think that's me over…"

"No…"

"Please…"

"I love you both, but neither the same way.

I don't need a heart to know."

"I know…"

"Stay…"

The glow faded, and both men hugged the other tight. There was no noise other than their sobbing and sniffing for almost half an hour. Eventually, they broke apart.

"Luxord? Though, I guess I should, now, call you-"

"I'm a different man to who I was, James." Their voices were soft, and passionate. Both pairs of eyes were gleaming with potential tears, and both mouths barely opened. "I think I need a different name."

"What, then?"

"Demyx."

There was, again, silence.

Almost an hour later, Mr Slater enquired.

"What did we have, Lu… Demyx?"

"I don't know."

"Did it break, or did we lose it with your heart?"

"It didn't break, but this is a different heart."

Mr Slater was enraged.

"Didn't you listen to what he said? It doesn't matter about the heart; it doesn't matter about whether or not you have one! So long as you don't lose sight of it, you can't lose!"

After a while, Luxord stared his blue eyes into the grey ones, just as Demyx had all those years ago.

"I shouldn't have run."

"I shouldn't have let you."

The two heads closed in. The two mouths opened wide, and closed in perfect synchronicity around the others lips.

It wasn't perfect. It wasn't supposed to be.

It was wet.

And that's how Demyx would have wanted it.

And that's how I did like it.