Disclaimer: I do not own Demyx nor any of the Kingdom Hearts or Christianity.
A/N: Okay, I finally made a decision, about the time that Rixa would get into the Organization would get into the Organization will be where this one stops. But that should be in a long time though, we still need to see how Demyx, Axel, and Roxas all become friends!
Chapter 4
Myde sat on a park bench, not exactly sure what he was doing there. His mind seemed fuzzier lately from all the use of drugs. He wanted to give up the drugs but couldn't seem to in the long run. Especially since his top priorities at the moment were getting shelter and food. It had been a week and he couldn't seem to get a job. No one would hire the teenage boy who didn't look like his health was doing too good. To some people, he looked like he was going to drop on the spot. So, after many sad attempts everyday, he had spent his nights on the same bench he was occupying now.
Then, an idea hit him, like a meteor crashing into the earth. With his new plans in mind, he picked up his pathetic looking bag and his sitar and ran down the street. After finding a nice street corner outside of a café, he put his stuff down and picked up his beloved instrument. The weight felt perfect in his hands as he was holding his prized possession. It wasn't even a possession to him anymore, after all the years together, it felt more like family. He could use it to make a beautiful, living, breathing melody. And so, that's exactly what he did, put his bag out in front of him, open, for tips, he began to play a song and sing along.
This act drew a small crowd of fourteen or fifteen people and a majority did drop some cash in. He didn't know if it was out of pity or if it was out appreciation of his lively music that was brightening up this pretty dull day. The song soon finished and he began to play another. This same ritual went on for the rest of the day until the sun had set, filling the sky with different shades and hues of blues, pinks, and purples. He picked up his stuff and went back to his bench to see what his efforts had achieved for him.
Four hundred and fifty dollars! He had enough to check into a cheap motel and get fast food with a lot extra, enough to try to find a normal place to live if he kept this up everyday. So, without anything else do, he stopped by McDonalds, grabbed a few things off the dollar menu and then headed over to the cheapest motel in town and checked in. He collapsed on the bed, thinking about how thankful he was that his idea had worked and slowly traveled into the realm of sleep.
Three months had passed until he had started his street musician occupation and things weren't going too well for Myde, after the first few days, people just lost interest in him. He was back to sleeping on a park bench and only making enough to eat once a day for about two dollars. So, when a high-class businessman approached him, he thought he must be seeing things. He hadn't had the money to use in a few weeks so his head was killing him and his music playing was sloppy. The man smiled kindly down at the boy, sitting on the street corner, playing notes on his instrument. "Are you doing alright, kid?"
Myde just nodded, absentmindedly, not wanting to talk, not even sure he could form coherent words. The man sighed, "Well, you look like you need this more than I do. It's not a gift from me, though. Remember that. This is a gift from the heavenly Father above who loves you and cherishes you more than all the riches of the world." And with that, the man dropped a few bills into the bag and walked off. Myde looked down, curious and after rifling through the bag, found what the man had dropped; it looked like a couple hundred-dollar bills paper-clipped together with a small business card attached as well. He pocketed the card, not even looking at it as he got up. He knew where he was headed next.
When he finally arrived at the old warehouse, he hesitated a long while, not sure if he should do this. The man's words kept haunting him and he was sure that the man did not want his money to go into this addiction. Gathering his thoughts, he went inside and up to the man at the counter. The man smiled at him, glad to see him back after such a long time. But before Myde could even speak to say what he wanted to say, he turned and ran. He ran and ran and ran, as fast and far away as he could get, vowing to never go back.
He stopped when he reached his bench and sat down. Then, he remembered the card in his pocket. Pulling it out, he inspected it and saw that it said, 'Rosemary Baptist Church'. A church? Those were nothing but trouble; he should know that by now. But maybe, just maybe, they wouldn't be hypocrites like his father. Maybe they could help him. Being as desperate as he was, he got up, taking all his belongings with him, started on his way to find the church.