Empty and quiet.
This was a strangely rare occasion considering the enormity of the castle. Someone was always shuffling or skulking about in the lounge or the hallways nearby. At this hour of the night, although night was a constant in the Dark City, everyone had cleared out.
His value as a researcher to the Organization meant he was usually only given low brunt missions, such as recon or early training for fresh recruits, which were few and far in between. Due to this he was usually granted the opportunity to absorb information late into the night.
Due to Vexen, he had vacated his usual place of solitude and quiet: the library. Whether it was incidental or otherwise, Vexen's presence was ever glued to Zexion's and at times, like tonight, it became exhausting. The academic now often complained about his detonating status within the organization as it gained new members, all unaware of his brilliance and ignorant to his status.
Depositing his selection of reading material on the coffee table Zexion settled into one of the large armchairs near the windowed side of the room. Since none of the other members were around he pulled his legs across one arm with his back against the other, fitting comfortably into the space between with a tome open against his thighs.
"Oh! Uh, hey! I didn't think anyone was in here."
With an internal sigh Zexion's gaze flickered up from his book, mid paragraph, to find one of the newest members, the Organization's number one slacker, walking towards him.
"Number Nine." He greeted the man, "I had the same notion. It was my desire to keep it that way."
Zexion said, now looking him full in the face with as much passive aggressive contempt as he could muster in his current reading position, which he was fully aware wasn't the least bit threatening.
Instead of being insulted by Zexion's insinuation that he wanted to be alone, Demyx pulled out a big sloppy grin.
"Y'know you look cute all squished up like that."
Zexion chose to ignore that comment.
"What business do you have in here so late at night?" He asked even though he really had no authority over Demyx's access to the lounge. It's not as though this was a restricted area.
"Just wanted to get some practice in." Demyx answered with a small shrug.
"And why were you unable to do that in your room?"
He wasn't especially especially close to anyone in the Organization, despite the ties from his past life, but Demyx didn't make the list of company he would prefer to keep. Considering he was noisy and his work ethic was abominable. It had taken his one and only mission with the ninth member to come to the conclusion.
Demyx grimaced, "Axel's room is next to mine."
Zexion merely raised his eyebrows expectantlly, waiting for the unpleasant explanation that would surely follow, in light of how chatty the bond man was.
"He kicked my door open while I was playing and said he would crisp my ass if I kept playing late at night." Demyx rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, "Kind of an overreaction if you ask me, but man does Axel like his" at this he raised his hands to make air quotes, "sleep."
Zexion's lip twitched in a ghost of a smirk but he quickly regained a neutral expression, hoping that Demyx hadn't caught it.
Which he did not. Because he was still rambling.
"So I guess it makes sense but it's not like I bitch at him when he's banging that scary scar faced guy." He made an 'X' motion with his finger between his eyes to indicate which scar faced guy, as there were multiple.
Zexion's eyes widened, surprised. Well that was new information. Something he would rather not have had a mental image of, but possibly something he could use at a later time.
Demyx chuckled, "Cuz man he's nasty."
Zexion sighed, externally this time to hide the beginnings of a smile on his lips, "I suppose if you play quietly you can stay."
Grinning, Demyx held out an arm to summon his sitar before plopping down on the couch opposite of Zexion.
"Thanks, I'll keep the tunes chill."
Shaking his head at the absurd colloquialisms, Zexion returned his attention to the book awaiting his attention, hoping he wouldn't regret the decision of allowing Demyx to remain within earshot.
Keeping to his word, a soft thrumming began to flit through the room, not too loud or too fast to be a distraction. At first it was just a randomization of notes but after a few chapters, Zexion noticed there was a definite melody drifting around.
It wasn't bad.
In fact, it reminded him of when he used to stay up late listening to classical records on the phonograph, turned low so as to not disturb anyone, while reading in the parlor of the Radiant Garden castle.
He had believed Demyx to only be capable of gratuitous noise with his instrument, but what he was playing now was…relaxing.
Covering his mouth with the knuckles of his gloved hand, Zexion came to the end of the last page of this third book, and decided it was past time he should be getting to bed. It was well into the early hours of the morning. He stood and stretched. Eyes shut, he was aware of the sudden lack of music, though not of Demyx's own eyes following the bends of his figure.
Demyx had looked away, pretending to tune his sitar when Zexion let his gaze slide over to the musician.
"I'm off to bed then. You should be as well if you don't want to oversleep for your mission tomorrow. If I recall it's a rather early one." Zexion always acquired a copy of the mission schedule from Saix the day before missions were assigned.
Sticking his tongue out at Zexion (a terribly childish act) Demyx let his sitar dissipate and stood, "Spoil sport."
Without replying, Zexion began gathering his books from the table, he had brought more than time had allowed to read. A constant dilemma of his.
"Um," Demyx scratched his face unconsciously, possibly, Zexion observed, a nervous habit from when he had a heart. "You need help with those?"
Zexion paused considering, and then, slowly he inclined his head in acceptance of the offer. Another surprise, via Demyx. Number Nine's willingness to assist in a task was an irregular, of not rare, occurrence.
Vexen had long since cleared out of the library by the time the unlikely pair arrived.
"You can set them on the desk, I'll put them in order tomorrow."
"Yeah, okay."
The walk to the library had been oddly quiet, another quality in Demyx that was alternative to his usual obnoxious demeanor.
"Oddly uncharacteristic of you." Zexion commented as they withdrew from the library.
Demyx put his hands out, palms up, questioningly, "What is?" He was, as Zexion had noticed, quite expressive in his use of body language.
"Your display of helpfulness."
"Why are you so surprised?"
"From all the data compiled on you thus far from your time in the Organization it's obvious that you're a slacker, underachiever, and procrastinator. You have a low mission success rate, a minimum mission gage completion, a high tardy rate, and you often are off topic at meetings and complain about matters of trivial consequence." Zexion deadpanned.
The other nodded, chin resting against his fist, the other arm folded under his elbow as he listened, then he pointed at Zexion, "But you still like me, right?"
"What?" Zexion's composed shattered as he stared at the musician, "That's absurd, of course not!"
"Why?"
Obviously Demyx was damaged in the head as well as lazy.
"We don't have hearts, you imbecile."
Demyx grinned, as if he knew something Zexion did not. This was of course highly unlikely, nearly impossible unless it perhaps related to musical composition or instrument usage, which Zexion had at least a basic grasp on. "But you would like me if we did have hearts, right?"
Zexion scowled, mouth hard pressed into a line as he attempted to decipher what exactly the origin of the mental damage was and if it was a permanent infliction or if it could be alleviated.
Demyx looked at him expectantly.
Apparently it hadn't been a rhetorical question.
"I'm not sure. Maybe? The probability is low, I would have spend some time analyzing the factors." His answer should have been no, but for some ludicrous reason this was spilling out of his mouth instead.
"Okay, cool. Give me a heads up when you figure it out."
He refused to spend another brain cell more on the matter.
"I…alright." He nodded, "Goodnight then."
"Goodnight!" Demyx waved and began to walk off to his area of the housing sector, but then he turned.
"Oh wait!"
And he was walking up quickly, suddenly too close.
"I'm a good kisser, factor that."
Abruptly, he bent down to Zexion and pressed a kiss against his cheek, winked, and then he was running off again.
Zexion pressed light fingertips to his cheek where Demyx's lips had been, staring as if dazed at the darkened passage the man had disappeared into.
If he hadn't known better he would have thought his heart had skipped a beat when Demyx kissed him.
He knew better though.
Nobodies didn't have hearts.
Right?