Tainted But Beautiful
Part 2: The Secrets
13. Betrayal
Pairings: AkuZeku, Zemyx, AkuRoku, AxDem, minor onesided VexZex
Rated: M
Warnings: Vampires, vampires, vampires...uh, yaoi, AU-ish-ness, abuse, noncon, rape, graphic scenes, character death, overall weirdness.
Summary: Axel is a powerful vampire slayer who's captured Zexion, a vampire, as his pet. What Axel doesn't bargain on is Demyx, his former student, developing a strong attraction to Zexion...
Notes: Quick update! Can't promise others will be coming this quick, but for now, enjoy. This is the chapter with some nice Axel and Demyx flashbacks, so enjoy. As well as Zexion and Lexaeus friendship, because I really do love their dynamic. But not pairing-wise, really...
I'm sorry for the lack of Roxas here...in fact, he doesnt' start playing a major role again until chapter sixteen. O_o I'm a bad writer, just forgetting characters for chapters at a time...
Blecch...I'm kind of feeling disappointed right now, because I got ReCoM for Xmas and was all excited about playing it--only to have it whine about not having enough space to save when I tried saving. But my PS2 has, like, a ton of free space on it, and all my other games can save. So...I guess I got a defective ReCoM. *angry*
Zexion was getting increasingly impatient.
It had been nine hours--nine exactly--since he'd first landed in the Northern port that afternoon, and gone to see Vexen and Lexaeus and the rest of the Northern Coven. Nine hours. Nine entire goddamn hours. Five hundred and forty minutes. Thirty two thousand and four hundred seconds.
And there still wasn't a single word from the other vampires. None, in nine hours. Zexion knew that vampires did tend to take their time to deliberate--being immortal, they didn't have to worry about time constraints the same way humans did, always frantically scampering about in an effort to accomplish several lifetime's worth of tasks during their brief span on Earth. He'd even heard of several vampiric meetings that had gone uninterrupted for decades. He shouldn't be begrduge this...the coven was just taking its time, deliberating and debating and throwing opinions back and forth...
But yet Zexion couldn't help but feel there was another reason behind their irritating slowness. A reason that had to do with the nature of his request--to search for, and return alive, a human slayer. No doubt, that was bound to raise the hackles of a few of the more orthodox vampires, and even the younger and more questioning vampires were probably having trouble accepting his request. He should be grateful that they were even bothering to hear him out--the standard response in any case would have been to give him a pat on his head (and a few blows elsewhere...) and send him off and tell him to attend his "incubus business".
Even that was starting to raise Zexion's suspicions. Would the leaders of the Northern Coven, ancient and powerful vampires all, really invest that much time into considering a request by a mere incubus? And one who was less than a century old, at that...
Whatever the leaders were discussing...it couldn't be good for Zexion. So he stayed alert, leaning on the doorframe of the room that he used whenever he stayed with the Northern Coven, his ears pricked, his every sense alert for any movement, any sign from the vampires deliberating in a distant chamber, far underground. Awaiting their judgment, prepared for the worst. Prepared to even fight, if he had to.
Because there was no reason to let the decision of a bunch of musty old vampires affect Zexion's resolve--his resolve to find Demyx.
Demyx sighed.
No one answered, of course. No one had come for him ever since Saix and Xaldin had left--minutes, hours, he didn't know--some time ago. He was still alone in the dark and cold room, bound to a chair, aching and confused.
He knew that his situation was dangerous--he was surrounded by an entire coven of vampires!--but somehow couldn't muster up any feelings of fear or apprehension. He just felt...annoyed, mostly. Annoyed at the chafing bonds around his wrist, ankles, and torso, annoyed at his confusion and how he'd just been left to rot here like he didn't have feelings of his own. Not to mention his stomach had started growling a storm...it was more than clear that he was hungry. After all, just when had his last meal been...?
So, since he had nothing else to do, he'd started to think. Initially, he had tried to keep his mind focused on nothing but the fear he was supposed to be feeling, as well as trying in vain to cook up plans for escaping. But those had quickly folded, since even if he did manage to get untied and out of the room, he'd have to deal with all the bloodthirsty vampires outside...and he just couldn't summon up the appropriate fear when nothing had come in to devour him yet.
His thoughts had started to spiral further and further away from his present situation--and, against his will, towards events long-past, events he'd thought he had suppressed but were now rising out of the darkness to the forefront again, forcing him to confront them...
Once again he was thinking about Zexion, despite all of his attempts not to. Don't think about him! he raged inside, but then again, it was just like trying not to think about a zebra. He thought of zebras the instant his mind told him not to, and so he also thought of Zexion. Not even the nice memories of Zexion--of Zexion's soft and cool hands clutching his own, of Zexion planting delicate kisses on his cheek and whispering comforting, meanginless words into his ear...of all the times they'd been together in Demyx's bed, while Zexion cast illusions of calm and peaceful nights around them...
Because inevitably, the nice memories became soured, morphed into something darker and more malignant. Who cared what those nice moments meant, after all, when Zexion had pretty much destroyed them all that--that night? The night where he had met Demyx's eyes and called him a fool, a brainless broken puppet. And then that other night--
His throat tightened and to his shame he felt a heat burn behind his eyelids whenever his mind inevitably turned to that night. The night when, essentially, his life had ended. The night when Zexion had rejected him. Had betrayed him.
Demyx didn't like to think about it that way...but he had to admit there was a kind of logic at once simple and beautiful, and utterly revolting. Of course Zexion hadn't cared about Demyx at all. It had all been a sham, any sign of enjoying Demyx's presence. Hadn't he said so himself, that night in the park...? But Demyx had been a fool and had really believed he'd loved Zexion. Love! Just thinking it now made him realize the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. How could a vampire slayer ever love an incubus? Any relationship like that would be doomed...would be unable to exist in the first place! Zexion had no concept of love, only lust--and of controlling others.
How marvelously he'd controlled Demyx, thought the slayer, gritting his teeth. How marvelously he'd toyed with Demyx's emotions, and finally, at the last moment, he had shown his true colors and thrown away any pretense of even liking Demyx in the first place. Why else hadn't Zexion come to save him...? There couldn't be any other explanation. Zexion had hated Demyx all along, and Demyx had been the blind idiot for not being able to see that.
Yet he couldn't erase the memory of Zexion, trembling as Axel berated him, of Zexion cowering broken and pathetic in his prison cell...of Zexion smiling to him that one time when he'd spilled his deepest dreams forth to the vampire, dreams he'd even kept from Axel...
No, Zexion didn't deserve Demyx's pity. All those times he'd just been manipulating Demyx. That was all. All of it was part of his act, and it was Demyx's fault for not listening to Axel and falling for it...
Axel. Demyx wondered how Axel was putting up, now that Demyx was gone... Was Axel searching for him? Of course he was, he had to be, Demyx shouldn't think that way...
But still, if Axel really was concerned for Demyx's welfare, then why hadn't he saved Demyx back then...? No! Don't think that way! He was probably trying as hard as he could! Axel did care about Demyx. Demyx had been his student once, after all, and they'd lived together for some ten years. There had to be a definite attachment, somewhere. Beneath all the condescension, beneath all the mocking and joking, had to be a genuine emotion, had to be caring. Had to...
Demyx instantly told himself to stop thinking this way--because these thoughts always led in that direction. There was nothing in that direction but darkness, a thick and tangled forest of evil intentions and territory best left unexplored. If he started thinking to hard on the subject, he would uncover the deep wounds that time had not yet healed, the deep wounds he'd long plastered over and tried not to reopen. And now there weren't only those older, festering wounds but newer injuries--
After all, Demyx would be a fool if he couldn't understand the way Axel smiled at Roxas, the way he spoke to the boy with such gentleness in his tone, the way his eyes lit up...
It was something Demyx had before only been able to dream about. Axel being so kind...but not to Demyx. Not to Demyx. He had to remember that. The feeling didn't belong to Demyx at all, no matter how fervently he might have wished it would. And he was fine with that. Who cared who Axel liked; Axel had long made it clear that he didn't feel anything that way for Demyx--
Too clear, too long ago. Yet a part of Demyx had never given up on hoping, even after all that... Even after Roxas, even after Zexion. He had still been able to hope.
Demyx supposed he was just a slow learner.
He knows he's slow. Knows he's slow and stupid and not fast enough to keep up with Axel, Axel always so nimble and graceful, his every movement almost like steps in a brisk dance. Not like Demyx, who lags and huffs and puffs into the dust while Axel dances blithely ahead.
He can't help but feel that Axel is disappointed in him. How could he not be...? After all the times that he's screwed up, it's a surprise that Axel even lets him stay. That Axel can even pretend like there's hope for Demyx. Hope! As if.
Funny how he could have had such big dreams when he'd first started out. Funny how he'd been near convinced he could be a slayer just as good as Axel. But he couldn't. He never could. He just can't keep up with Axel. He can't be fast enough, smart enough, good enough. He's inferior in every way, oh how he knows this. And it starts making him wonder if he's ever going to be a slayer at all. That old man at the party five years ago, he hasn't forgotten, told him that he had greater talents, elsewhere. And often Demyx can't help but agree.
But he sticks with Axel anyway. Halfway out of an obstinate hope--he's never been good at giving in--but also because of something else. Because of...
Because of Axel's smile. Not his caustic smirk--that is too familiar--but the times, few and far between, when he really smiles. When Axel smiles, it's...it's like...Demyx can't describe it. It's like...like the sun's come out on a stormy day, chasing away the last of the dark clouds and brightening the entire world. Something like that, only even better. Maybe Demyx would like Axel's smile more if he did it more often, but somehow he doesn't think so. Axel's smile is so wonderful precisely because it's so rare.
Pathetic as it sounds, he lives for those moments. The rare moments, the golden moments, the dollops of brightness in his dark days--the moments when Axel smiles at Demyx, smiles for real, and says, "Good job, Dems."
Not today, of course. Today Demyx has screwed up, screwed up royally, he feels. Axel was so close to killing those vampires, after all...and then Demyx had to be stupid and get in the way and he had to freeze and Axel kept screaming at him "Out of the fucking way, Dems!" but he couldn't move and--
Well, he's cost Axel a kill. And he's sure that Axel's angry at him. Not just angry--but furious. Furious enough, maybe, to even bring the house down from the force of his screaming. Demyx isn't sure if even Axel can scream that loud, but he doesn't want to test it, so that's why he's chosen to hide.
Even though Demyx knows he's stupid, he still can't help but feel a burst of pride at--at this. At the hiding spot he's chosen. Axel will never find him, he's sure of that. After all, Axel would never think that Demyx would choose the library of all places to hide. Hell, if he's looking for Demyx instead of sulking in his room--which is more probable--he'll never suspect that Demyx is hiding here of all places! He'll probably look in the piano room or the kitchen or the veranda or all of Demyx's other favorite places, but the library? No way!
So Demyx feels pretty safe, right here, huddled under a table building a fort of books around him, just in case. Again, a slightly more rational part of his mind comments on the idiocy and sheer patheticness of it all. Why the hell is he hiding from Axel like Axel's an H-bomb or something? But he's afraid of Axel. Yeah, the guy he--he more than likes. He's afraid! But why shouldn't he be? When Axel gets mad...oh boy does he get mad. And Demyx is sure that Axel's got all the reason in the world to get mad at him today.
He doesn't want to confront that angry Axel, as much as Demyx knows he deserves Axel's anger. So he hides, stacking book on top of book. It's kind of comforting. Like building Lego towers. Demyx never had Legos as a kid, so he was fascinated when he moved in with Axel and discovered Axel's multiple Lego sets. He liked building little houses and parks out of them and populating them with people; still does. Not that he'd ever let Axel know. There's a lot of things Demyx would rather Axel not know.
He stacks a book called "The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire" on top of the Iliad. On top of that, the Oxford English Dictionary. Okay, he's filled that whole column now. Now, on to the next one...which should he use first? Moby-Dick and some book with a title in Spanish (something about Cien Anos or whatever...) are the same size, but Demyx decides he likes Moby-Dick better because a) it's in English, and b) the cover is more colorful than the Spanish book. So he uses Moby-Dick to build his next column.
This is all very rewarding work, and he soon finds himself falling into the rhythm of searching and stacking, searching and stacking--so much so that he doesn't notice the sound of footsteps ringing through the empty library. Not at first. He's too enthralled by his fort-building to notice or care...but when he hears the voice, his hands freeze and he drops Pride and Prejudice to the floor with a resounding clunk.
"Dems? Hey, are you in here?"
Oh, shit. He's been found.
Demyx picks up the book, hoping that Axel hadn't heard the loud clunk it had made when it had hit the wooden floor...but it was no use, he could hear Axel's steps change direction and move closer in his direction. Oh crap oh crap oh hell no...he tries to build his fort with an increasing frenzy, throwing volumes willy-nilly on top of each other, not caring so much about structural integrity anymore, as long as he'd be hidden from Axel--
But it's all in vain. Axel stops directly in front of his table, and his voice, ringing louder than ever before, said, "Demyx? You under there?"
"No!" squeaks Demyx without thinking. The instant the word leaves his mouth, his face flushes bright red and he throws himself back, as if trying to make up for his gaffe by hiding further, but no, there's no way...
The book fort falls apart; a ray of mid-afternoon light strikes through the newly-opened space, illuminating Demyx for everyone to see--for Axel to see. There's no point in hiding now. Nothing to do but face Axel, heart thumping violently against his ribcage, hoping that Axel isn't too mad...
But to Demyx's surprise, Axel doesn't look angry at all. He mostly looks curious, and a little confused at the same time. There's certainly no anger in his face when he sweeps his green eyes over the scene, taking in Demyx and the haphazard pile of books...
"What're you doing here, Dems?" says Axel, again not sounding angry--just puzzled. "With all these books? Reading?"
"Er...um...yeah..." stammers Demyx, feeling his blush darken from the lie. "Yeah. Just...just reading."
"Hmm." Axel picks up one of the books--Crime and Punishment, it seems--and turns it back and forth in his hands, examining it "Yeah. I can see why you'd be fascinated by books like these."
"Yeah! Yeah, I was. Fascinating. Really." Demyx's words are becoming more and more silly and disjointed, and he responds by blushing harder. He's mortified--embarrassed--and still scared. Because even though Axel isn't acting angry...who knows?
"Ha ha ha." Axel's laugh clearly shows that he doubts Demyx's sincerity. "C'mon. Come out of there. Why are you hiding in the first place, huh?"
What? Demyx can only gape, flabbergasted, at Axel. There is no anger at all in his expression, and certainly no anger when he extends his arm in an helpful gesture to Demyx. But...but...Demyx is sure that Axel can't be happy about...about last night...
He takes Axel's hand anyway, dangling weakly and barely able to stand on his own strength. Even after Axel hauls him up to his feet, Demyx still can't stay steady. His legs feel like jelly, and the floor is spinning beneath his eyes--uh oh, not a good sign, is he going to faint? Oh, no, no, he can't faint...that would be the pathetic icing on the pathetic cake. The pathetic cherry on the pathetic sundae...
A vague, irreverent part of Demyx wonders if he's hungry. He probably is. He's sure he hasn't eaten anything the entire day.
"Gee, Demyx! What the hell's the matter with you?" Now, Axel looks kind of angry--no, more annoyed than anything. "You look like you're going to have a panic attack. You sure you're all right?"
"Well...I...ah..." chokes Demyx, unable to wrap his mind around the kindness in Axel's voice...the concern. "I...I mean...you aren't...you're not...you're not mad at me?"
Much to his shame, his voice rises to a squeak on the last syllable, and he trails off, unable to think of what he's saying. He tries to look away, but then Axel tugs on his arm, making him turn his attention back to Axel. He expects Axel to finally unleash the rage he no doubt has been keeping pent up all day...but instead, Axel is...Axel is smiling.
Not quite the real smile that Demyx loves more than anything else, but a smile still. A teasing smile, a mocking smile, but also gentle as well--and Axel looks more amused than anything else. There's no anger at all in his eyes, nothing but a light and teasing, but kind as well, light...
"Come on, Dems. Were you seriously hiding because of that? Like I'd be mad at you for that! Happens to the best of us--I mean, just the other day, did you hear that Marluxia..."
Demyx doesn't hear, because he's stopped listening the instant Axel stated he wasn't mad at Demyx. Instantly, all the worry, all the fear, that's been plaguing Demyx since they returned from their mission in the night vanishes, just as the strong afternoon sun made vanish the darkness beneath the table. He feels, instead, relieved--a great, overwhelming relief crushing him on all sides like a tidal wave. But greater than the relief is--is just a plain, pure, giddy sort of happiness that makes his head feel light and his heart pound faster. He's so happy and he has no idea why, no, he knows why, it's because--
It's because Axel's smiling again. That same calm, quiet, but wonderful smile that seems to light up his entire face and make the entire library glow. It's probably just the effect of the rich golden sunlight behind Axel, causing his skin to glow and his hair to shimmer, bright as firelight, but--but Demyx can't help but feel that the smile itself has transformed Axel's face. Has transformed his entire being. There's none of the dark energy and restlessness that seems to animate Axel so on most days. Instead, it's all been replaced by a sheer, glowing radiance, strong as sunlight and twice as beautiful.
"So don't worry," says Axel, finishing a tale about Marluxia's follies that Demyx didn't even hear. "Everyone makes mistakes, okay? I'm not mad at you. Those were just two made vampires anyway; it's not like I really lost anything by letting them go. And really, Dems, I'm insulted!"
Uh-oh...here it comes. Here comes the anger...because no matter how Axel smiles, he's got to be mad about something--
"Because, c'mon, Demyx--you really think I care more about some stupid vampires than you?"
And Demyx's heart just stops.
He doesn't know what he's doing. He doesn't know anything, anymore--nothing but the gentle smile on Axel's face, but the beautiful light in the slayer's eyes. He doesn't know anything, he doesn't care. He just takes one step, then two, forward, until he's directly in front of Axel. Axel stares at him, looking a little bemused, but doesn't protest when Demyx lifts his hand to the side of Axel's face, leans in closer, and--
No conscious thought. Just nothing but his instincts, his heart now hammering a violent rhythm deep inside his chest, his other hand tightening around Axel's, while he brings Axel's face closer to his, not thinking, just doing--
The kiss isn't Demyx's first, but it's by far the best. Axel returns it just eagerly as Demyx initiated it, quickly snatching the reins of dominance from Demyx, his hand digging into Demyx's back, pulling Demyx closer to him while his tongue stabs into Demyx's mouth, rubbing against Demyx's, exploring every inch of the warm cavern while Demyx presses back into the kiss, lost in the dizzying sensation of Axel's tongue moving against his, of Axel's lips pressing ferociously against his own and forcing them to part further; overwhelmed by Axel's flavor, so sweet and intoxicating yet spicy as well, like cinnamon, and a hint of something darker and stronger, and stranger...
Axel pulls out of the kiss after what's probably only minutes, but feels like years--an eternity--to Demyx. Still, even that's not enough for him, and he whimpers at the loss of contact--but Axel just smiles and winks at him, and dives in for another kiss...and another, and another...it's all Demyx can do to keep up with his body, let alone his mind. He can't believe it. This is--this is just--it's everything. Everything. Everything he's always dreamed for and it's finally happening and is it really and oh hell Axel's lips have moved to his neck and his hands have moved down, to the hem of Demyx's shirt, and he's slowly rolling it up, exposing Demyx's skin...
Demyx decides not to think. Thinking will ruin it, making it less enjoyable. He instead gives in to the ecstasy pounding in tandem in his and Axel's veins, letting his fingers move to the front of Axel's shirt, just as Axel's hands move even lower, to Demyx's belt, and begin unbuckling it...
After that, bliss.
"But why, Axel?"
Demyx knows how pathetic he sounds. How cracked, how shattered, how broken his voice is. How his words come out in a pathetic squeak, barely intelligible. He knows it all, and he hates it.
But he can't help it. He can't do anything but follow Axel as the older slayer marches resolutely away from him, buttoning his shirt even as he walks. Demyx hasn't bothered putting his shirt back on. He doesn't care; let the servants passing by stare. He just has to make Axel know--
But Axel doesn't seem like he wants to listen to Demyx at all. He just keeps stomping ahead, dark fury oozing from him with every step he takes, shaking in anger. "Shut up, Dems. Shut up and go the hell away if you know what's good for you. Go away!"
Demyx, strangely, isn't affected by the sharp tone Axel's taking with him. He doesn't care about anything accept trying to make Axel see, trying to sort through his own wild and conflicted emotions. "But Axel--please--stop! I don't get it--why're you so mad--"
"Why am I mad?" Oh, Axel explodes at that. For the first time, he whirls around to face Demyx, fury twisting his handsome face into an ugly scowl. "Why? What, you fucking idiot, you haven't fucking figured it out! I'm mad because of--because of that! And fucking put your shirt on!"
Demyx toys with the notion of asking Axel what exactly "that" is, but he knows all right, and knows Axel won't appreciate efforts to stall. And he doesn't want to stall himself. He just wants to get to the bottom of it all... "Look, Axel, I don't get it..."
"Why? What's so fucking hard to get?" Axel's tone is sharp, accusing. Demyx has never heard Axel speak to him like this before, yet he isn't scared. He doesn't feel much, in particular, beyond a swirling confusion.. "Last night--that was--I mean--I can't believe I did that! It was a mistake, damn it! Do you hear me? A mistake!"
"I'm sorry, Axel--"
"Sorry? Don't be. You didn't do anything wrong." Demyx takes a step back, startled by Axel's sudden judgment--and by the way Axel's tone has changed. It isn't gentle, not quite, but also not angry anymore. Mostly calm, flat, clipped. Axel is facing him now, his hands in his pockets, his face expressionless.
"Huh?" Demyx is surprised he can even breave; he's quite sure he's stopped breathing. He can only stand, and stare back at Axel, confused...why would Axel not be angry at him? After all, Demyx is the one who'd started it all, kissing Axel like that...what idiocy, how stupid of him, but then again, he's always known he's only the greatest idiot to walk the earth...
"It's not your fault. How could you--I mean...when you first...I should have stopped you then!" Axel's anger is rendering him incoherent, destroying his usual glibness. "I should have stopped you when you first did that! I shouldn't have...I'm really sorry, Dems. By fucking God, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...to give you false hope like that. I don't know what I was thinking, but it was wrong. I shouldn't have done any of that. I'm sorry."
Demyx, to his shame, doesn't reply at first. He doesn't know what to do. He's just so--so confused. Axel's words drift past his ears, but they don't have any special meaning. When you first did that...give you false hope...it was wrong...
Wrong...wrong...false hope...
Of fucking course.
Axel doesn't feel the same way Demyx does. How much more obvious could it be...? Well, all right, he returned Demyx's kiss--but Demyx knows as well as anyone that a kiss hardly means love. How many people has he kissed not because he cared, but because he lusted? That's all it was. Axel kissed Demyx--did everything with Demyx--not out of love. It's Demyx's fault, Demyx's delusion, for ever thinking he did.
"Look, Demyx...I...let's just...let's just agree to forget it, okay? Forget it ever happened. All right? Got it memorized?" Axel's tone has become both pleading and jocular, as if he's trying to act light-hearted, trying to act like nothing's happened, like nothing's changed...
But things have. Things have changed. How can Demyx just continue with his life, continue following in Axel's shadow, after last night? He can't forget it, even if he wants to. And he doesn't want to forget it. He doesn't want to regret it, either. He wants to believe that it was the start of something new. Something different. Something better. A relationship better than their current teacher and student relationship. A...a real relationship. He wants to, so bad, but the way Axel is looking at him, so expectantly, expecting Demyx to agree that it was just a mistake, makes it plain that Axel doesn't want that.
"Axel..." says Demyx, his voice so quiet he can barely hear it. He feels strangled, suffocated. Goosebumps have risen on his skin but he feels that's not just because he isn't wearing his shirt. "Axel...look..."
"All right?" Axel then smiles--but it isn't that beautiful sunshine smile, nor is it his usual confident smirk. It's an awkward smile, another pathetic stab at blase friendliness. "All right? C'mon. Let's put that behind us. All right, Dems?"
Demyx knows what Axel's offering. And he knows the right thing to do is to accept. He knows the right thing to do is just smile and nod and act like he agrees with Axel's judgment, that it was all just a giant mistake, a spur-of-the-moment decision that spiraled out of control. But...he can't.
He can't. Not anymore. He's finally done it--finally showed Axel how he truly feels. And because of that, he's now willing to accept the consequences. No matter how painful they might be. But it'd be tantamount to betrayal--betrayal of himself--to pretend that he doesn't feel anything. That he never felt anything. Because he did, and he still does.
So he tries to do what he knows is right. But his knees are shaking and his heart is quailing in his chest and he just can't think, his mind's a wild blur and he can do nothing but stand there and shake and look like an idiot while Axel stares blankly back at him, damn he's such an idiot why why why did he have to kiss Axel in the first place...
Would he be happier if he hadn't? If he hadn't--for just one night, at the very least--gotten what he'd wanted?
"Well, Dems?" said Axel. He sounds just as friendly as before, but now there's a tense, expectant edge to his voice. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue? C'mon, Dems. Let's forget everything. Come on."
Demyx wants to say No, no, no, I don't want to. I don't want to forget. I love you, Axel. I don't want to forget. But he can't. His throat feels stuck and his mind isn't working fast enough to string words together into coherent sentences. He feels frozen, unable to do anything. Helpless, lost, confused. A million voices in his head are screeching for him to say something, to protest--but an equally striden chorus is telling him to just accept Axel's words. To accept that it was just a mistake, and that he won't do it again, and they'll just be student and teacher, just be friends, and that will be that and all will be fine.
That chorus wins. Spurred on by the voice of reason, spurned by the voice of love, he jerks is head, once, twice, in a mute nod. Because he still can't speak. If he speaks, he's afraid he'll--hell, that he'll cry. And he doesn't want any reason for Axel to see him as more pathetic than he already is.
Axel lets out a deep sigh, as if a great weight's been lifted from his shoulders. He then smiles--another stab at a real smile, but failing--and shrugs in a gesture meant to be loose and casual, but looking more relieved than anything. "Well, that's good. Good to see we're clear on that. All right--get dressed again, and we'll get started on lessons this afternoon...figured you should try mastering the French dismembering techniques..."
Axel's tone has fallen back into the familiar lilt of teacher lecturing student. Too familiar, too painful, now. What can Demyx do about it, though? He can only follow, trailing after Axel like the shadow he never wanted to be but is, as the redheaded slayer walks away, hands in his pockets and still lecturing, unaware of anything. Unaware of Demyx, miserable behind him...acting just like nothing had happened. Then again, that's probably what Axel wants. To pretend that nothing has happened.
Demyx can't, though. He follows Axel today, and tomorrow, but it never feels right to him. Never again. He must be a pretty good actor, though; or Axel unobservant or just in denial, because Axel never asks Demyx if anything's wrong. Deep in Demyx's heart, though, he knows he can't keep pretending. One day, his heart is going to break from the effort of acting like their one-night-stand was just that--a one-night stand, empty, meaningless, spurred on by lust alone. For as long as he can, though, he's going to continue to pretend. Continue to betray himself.
One month passes, then two. Then, finally, one day Demyx quietly leaves the house before Axel wakes up, heads to the slayer authority, and takes the slayer test. He passes, to his surprise. But even if he hadn't, he would've kept going, every day, until he passed.
He returns to Axel's house to pack his belongings--and leave a letter and a copy of his license. Just to let Axel know what's happened. Then, he picks up his bag, hoists it over his shoulder, and turns around. Turns around, and doesn't look back. Hopes to never look back again.
Of course, it wasn't as simple as that. He did come back in the end...because in spite of all his resolve...Demyx had missed Axel. That was why he'd returned to Axel, that night at the party. He was surprised how it was all coming back to him, standing in sharp relief against the haze of most of his memories...he'd forgotten, in the ensuing excitement with Zexion. All about Axel...all about his real reasons for coming back in the first place.
And now Demyx was left utterly lost and confused about where his feelings lay. He'd been so convinced he was in love with Zexion...but looking back, it was now becoming increasingly clear that his "love" for Zexion had been nothing more than lust and misplaced judgment. And Axel...
Where did that put Axel now? Did Demyx still feel anything for Axel? Could he still feel anything for the man who had smirked so caustically even while abusing Zexion, while pinning the incubus to the bed and raping him even as he lectured Demyx like this was just an ordinary lesson...?
Damn it. Why did his thoughts keep spiraling in this direction? Demyx groaned and lowered his head, and if his hands were free he'd have buried his face in them. The fact that he was tied up alerted him to his present situation--and then he couldn't help but unleash a long, bitter laugh. What the hell was he doing, musing about love while bound and imprisoned by an entire coven of vampires?
Sometimes, Demyx had to wonder where he'd misplaced his sanity. He guesed that the most likely spot would have been on the room of a rickety tenement building, on a rainy night years and years ago when he'd been running for his life from a bloodthirsty demon of the night...
Zexion had to admit that this was not the most mature thing he'd done. And definitely not one of the smartest. He already lacked plenty when it came to physical strength, and had not helped things by kicking the wall very, very hard. Hard enough to send pain shooting through his foot. Now he was perched on the edge of the bed, clutching his foot and hissing in pain, as well as discontent at his own stupidity.
Still. Seriously--eleven hours? Something was wrong. Something had gone horribly wrong, somewhere in the proceedings...and now Zexion's every nerve was afire with apprehension. He was surprised that he was able to sit still, so jittery with nervousness he was...but no, he had to remain calm. Getting worked up wouldn't help him...
Again, in vain, the vampire pricked his ears for any sound that could make its way to his chambers from the deep, underground deliberation chamber...but heard nothing. He sighed, but wasn't disappointed. Even with his heightened senses, there was no way he could hear from all the way down there. He could detect their scents, somewhat; he'd always had a keen sense of smell even for a vampire. But the scents wouldn't tell him what he wanted to know, and that was whatever the hell the coven leaders were saying.
Zexion wondered why he was even bothering hanging around and waiting for the slow, ancient higher-ups to give his mission their blessing. He could have already left and gone off to search for Demyx on his own...darkly, he thought that he'd be able to find Demyx by the time it took the leaders to finally end their deliberations. But no...he couldn't do it on his own. Maybe if it had been a lesser pureblood who had kidnapped Demyx, but...but not Xaldin. He could not confront a vampire like Xaldin alone; to do so would be tantamount to suicide. And as Zexion quite valued his own life...
He had no choice but to do this. The only one of the Thirteen Covens that would even offer to help him was the Northern Coven, and so to the Northern Coven he'd gone. But he hadn't expected that they would take this long to consider his request. Really, it had been a very simple one...and he knew Lexaeus was influential amongst the coven's leadership. Lexaeus he could count on to be his advocate; how many times before had Lexaeus stood up for Zexion before the higher-ups?
But now it appeared even Lexaeus' calm rationality wasn't winning the other leaders over. Zexion chewed thoughtfully on his bottom lip, trying to fight down the rising apprehension in his stomach. He had to stay calm, had to stay calm, had to...
Then all pretense of calmness vanished when he realized that three scents were moving in his direction.
Two of them were unfamiliar; but one was Lexaeus's, deep, earthy, calm, comforting. He shouldn't be apprehensive...Lexaeus wouldn't harm him...but still Zexion couldn't dispel the feeling that something...something...was wrong. That Lexaeus wasn't going to have the answer that Zexion wanted...
Taking in a deep breath, Zexion gathered all his powers about him--reveling in how freely he was able to use them now, now that Axel was no longer restricting him--and began to weave an illusion. Not a difficult one; just an illusion in which he was on the far opposite end of the room, pacing back and forth with his head down, instead of leaning against the wall right by the door. It'd help give him the element of surprise, which might even work out in his favor in a physical battle.
To help matters further, he constructed the illusion of a barrier, dark and nebulous and impenetrable, over the doorway. It wouldn't deter Lexaeus, but maybe the other two., who from the smell of it were vampire guards. Only a step above incubus in vampiric hierarchy. He could deal with them easily...
But why was Lexaeus coming with an escort in the first place? He didn't need guards to talk with Zexion, unless...
And then they were there, and Zexion had no more time for thought. The door flew open with a resounding bang, causing Zexion to tense; but his barrier held fast and he heard the sound of something heavy thunking against it and then bouncing off, swearing copiously. Zexion couldn't help but smirk a little inside, pleased in himself. His illusion was holding...
"Damn it! What's going on?" a loud, angered voice shouted, sounding slightly muffled from beyond the illusory barrier. This time, Zexion wasn't sure if he was quite keeping his smirk to himself; he felt a little twitching at the corners of his lips.
"It is an illusion." Lexaeus's voice was, as always, deep and tranquil, rumbling like the earth itself. Zexion, despite himself, felt the apprehensive quivering in his nerves lessen at the sound of the older vampire's voice. He knew Lexaeus wouldn't hurt him...that he could trust Lexaeus...
Then, the tone of Lexaeus's voice changed--and Zexion realized with a jolt that Lexaeus was now addressing him. "Ienzo. Release your illusions. Let us in."
Zexion almost did it--but a prickling on the back of his neck warned him to be careful, that not all was as it seemed. Instead, he said, his voice calm, carefully-controlled, but with a level of warning to it as well, "Tell me what you've come here for. Have you made your decision?"
"Yes, Ienzo. We have."
Zexion bit back an audible sigh of relief; who knew, after all, if Lexaeus came bringing good news? But the tone of his voice was so calm, with not even a trace of disappointment in it as it would have if the leaders had reached the other decision... Why should Zexion doubt Lexaeus, the one vampire in the entire world whom he could claim was a true friend? True, Vexen was his friend as well, but...not on the same level that Lexaeus was. In a strange way, their friendship was one of complements--Zexion a delicate incubus who loved the power of words above all; Lexaeus a well-built warrior who cherished his silence. Zexion had always been able to depend on Lexaeus, and Lexaeus on Zexion.
So it was with no apprehension that Zexion lowered both his illusions--they'd been beginning to tire him, anyhow--and said to Lexaeus, his tone pleasant but noncommittal, "Do come in, Aeleus. Forgive me, I was only trying to be...ah...cautious."
"I see," was all Lexaeus said, and without preamble he stepped into the room, his massive bulk making it seem like it had shrunk in half. Behind him trailed two vampire guards, less well-built than him but still respectably beefy. Zexion took a step backward to accomodate them, eyeing Lexaeus with a neutral expression.
"Let's not waste time, Aeleus. The decision...?"
Lexaeus's face was as blank as Zexion's, his expression inscrutable. That was expected, though; Lexaeus had always been stoic, and would report any news matter-of-factly, whether it was good or bad. He didn't speak, at first, and the guards behind him were exchanging odd, knowing glances, fidgeting uncomfortably...no, not uncomfortably...more...more...like they were...eager...like they were looking forward to doing...something...
Zexion took another step backward, his apprehension rising again, although he tried not to let it show. Again, he said, keeping his voice as level as before, "The decision? I haven't got all day. Tell me. Have you approved the mission or not...?"
Lexaeus still didn't say anything to this, but was surveying Zexion now with the oddest expression. Like all of his facial expressions, it was hard to read, but there was something to it beyond the usual stoicity...something akin to...pain, or helplessness...perhaps even a flash of pity, for Zexion...
Zexion didn't pause to think. The instant he saw--and understood--the look in Lexaeus's eyes, he began to weave together an illusion of brilliant sunlight to assault the three other vampires. But he didn't get time to finish--before he could understand what was going on, he had been snatched by the arms, hoisted, struggling in the air, between the two warriors.
"Aeleus!" shouted Zexion, trying to hide his panic between an outward veneer of righteous indignancy. "What's the meaning of this?"
For the first time, Lexaeus turned away, breaking eye contact with Zexion. The gesture shocked Zexion beyond all else that had happened in the space of the past five minutes--it was beyond all doubt a sign that Lexaeus was behind this. He froze, feeling an icy chill rise from the pit of his stomach to seize his chest, where his heart would be beating a mile a minute if he had been human...
"Aeleus!" shouted Zexion again, because Lexaeus still had not spoken. Zexion received no answer again, though, save the warriors tightening their grips on his arms. Zexion grit his teeth, trying to ignore the bruises the vampires were most definitely leaving behind... "Answer me, dammit! What are you--what have you done?"
"Shut up, incubus, it's not in your place to question," snarled one of the guards, yanking extra hard on Zexion's arm. Zexion, to his shame, cried out from the pain--he was quite sure that the vampire had been only inches from dislocating his shoulder.
"Yeah," grunted the other guard. "You know the Superior's policies. Traitors don't deserve any leniency."
Traitors? The word raced through Zexion's panicking mind, making no sense at all but nonetheless causing his breaths to come shorter and faster, causing alarm bells to sound wildly--but then, with a burst of cold horror, he realized. He realized everything--what had happened--what the word meant--
What Lexaeus had done.
"You--y-you--Aeleus--" he gasped, twisting in the guards' increasingly painful grip, trying again to meet Lexaeus's eyes--and failing. Lexaeus still had his head turned, his face cast to the floor, as still and silent as always...but seemed to shaking, imperceptibly, so much so that Zexion barely noticed, but he did--
"Aeleus! What the hell did you do?"
"Ienzo...I'm sorry." Zexion started in horror when Lexaeus spoke--horror at the tone of Lexaeus's voice. Low, abject, miserable...filled at once with self-loathing and resignation.
"Aeleus..." gasped Zexion, all of the fight leaving him, slumping limply in the guards' grip.
"I could not...I am very sorry, Ienzo. But the Superior's orders are absolute."
With that, Lexaeus turned away, his massive form moving slowly, his steps hesitant...as if he was weighed down by a burden that even his powerful shoulders could not bear. Step by pained step, he headed towards the door, until he stood in the doorframe, his huge form sillhouted in the thin rectangle.
Just beofre Lexaeus left, however, Zexion found his voice.
"Traitor!" he screamed, with a raw intensity that burned in his throat and horrified yet invigorated him at the same time. He couldn't think anymore--could only burn in rage, rage at Lexaeus's betrayal--how dare he how dare he how DARE he-- "Traitor! Filthy--dirty--damned--TRAITOR!!! Traitor--traitor--TRAITOR--"
He screamed until his voice cracked and could not rise anymore. But there was no point in it, anyway--Lexaeus was already gone, slipped away while Zexion had been absorbed in his rage, had been absorbed in raining upon Lexaeus every curse and condemnation he knew, even slipping back into that tongue he had not spoken for so long unless he had to, because he believed himself no longer innocent enough to do it justice--but he'd startled himself too with the intensity of his fury in his native language, since he'd long viewed it as quiet, gentle, sophisticated. All of the things he no longer was.
But his voice had given in, in the end--even he as he was now, stained and jaded and bitter, could not maintain such a steady flow of hatred and poison. He had slumped, tired, his energy drained, between the arms of the two guards who had simply stood and restrained him and let him rant and rave--perhaps they thought it was entertaining. Zexion thought he should be bothered by being considered a mere toy, an amusing spectacle, but most of him no longer cared. His dignity had gone away, long ago...too long to remember...
All he had left were his friendships. And even they had been taken away from him. Lexaeus, as constant and steady as a rock...turned traitor in an instant. Zexion no longer wanted to think; thinking would make it hurt more.
So he didn't begrudge it when the guards exchanged a few words that seemed to be wondering what to do with Zexion, and then hit him hard, in the back of his head. Zexion let the blackness creep into his vision and take him without any protest. It was warm and comforting, and besides, somewhere in that darkness, was the one person who hadn't betrayed him...
...was Demyx...
Poor Zexy-poo...
The next chapter is called "Xemnas"...I wonder why! Anyway, I feel it's the most intensely plot-related so far. I hope. And here's the preview:
He felt a heavy hand, cold as ice, press against his forehead, the fingers digging into the skin of his temples, most certainly leaving bruises behind. Zexion wanted to protest, wanted to make some noise, some tiny show of defiance--but his breath was stuck in his throat and he couldn't think, it almost felt like more than just the weight of the Superior's hand was pressing on him, that it was the full weight of the Superior's entire being, his entire dark disapproval--
Yes, Xemnas tormenting Zexion galore. But no rape. I do like the XemZex pairing (especially noncon), but there isn't going to be any of that in this story.
Remember to send a review or two in my way, mmkay, folks? (and suggestions, if you have any, about what to do about my broken ReCoM...grrr)