Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be, but in nine days, I will be at Gamestop when it opens and the Mark of Mastery edition of Dream Drop Distance is going to be in my hot little hands. /cackles wildly

Author's Notes: Hey guys! Don't worry, this chapter has just been difficult to work through because it was such a difference. But hey, here's more Axel for you guys! Everyone loves Axel, right? Right? Yes? Good.

Dedications: To Evil-Pixie-Dust, because without her, this flat-out never would have happened.

Chapter 9 – Crop Circles in the Carpet

Demyx sits there for a long time, face in his hands as he tries to think of exactly, exactly what he got up to last night. Tears slide across his hands, making his palms slippery and slick, and he convulses as a sob tears its way out of him. The world keeps on its slow revolutions as Demyx presses the heels of his hands roughly into his eyes. Fuck. A hoarse choking noise clogs up his throat.

God, what the fuck did he do?

The club, the frustration, and somehow he left his apartment last night, found Zexion… Demyx's hands on Zexion's face, his thoughts and emotions dragging Zexion's over his, like some strange healing blanket.

"-myx, look at me! Are you al-"

A large brick house, how strange strange child too smart for his own good, stern-faced-man-father, older boys keeping him safe, college, child, child, Sora, brother-

Demyx shakes his head. The memories aren't his. They're flavored differently, fading fast, like the impression of smoke before the wind. He tries to stay out of them, but they climb up and claw their way into the forefront of his mind until he relives all the brightest pieces.

Zexion's first kiss, leaving the large brick house he lived in with so many other children, Cloud, Xigbar, Saix, names he doesn't recognize, Roxas, Vexen, seeing Demyx for the first time and again again because this man is helping him-

-until the memories overlap with the events of last night, and Demyx sees himself, head lolling to one side, pupils blown wide and unrecognizable, grabbing Zexion's face and-

Pain.

Unimaginable pain, because someone was inside him, oh god oh god, get out no that's not for you, get out, leave me alone- And Demyx just kept going, mindless by that moment.

Demyx covers his mouth, swallowing back the urge to vomit. God, he had just-. And Zexion…

…

Where the hell is Zexion?

Surely he hadn't just left him there. Demyx racks his brain, coming up with nothing other than the vague sense-memory of an apartment that isn't his, the unfamiliar jangle of a set of keys.

Zexion's apartment. Has to be.

-tucked Zexion in, blankets hiked up over his shoulders, Demyx's hand traces the new lines and terror-bruises under Zexion's eyes, regret seeping through him, before he leaves as quietly as he came-

Demyx breathes out, relieved. Zexion was safe at home. And Demyx…

Well. Demyx never has to see him again.

He rubs roughly at his face, scrubbing away the leftovers of his tears. That's a good thing, he reminds himself. Seeing Zexion after that wouldn't be a good thing. It could just hurt the both of them more than anything else. And with how he feels…

Huh, with how he feels…

Demyx blinks, tilts his head. The world is awfully quiet today, now that he takes a moment to pay attention. The people living around him, typically scraping against him like rough sandpaper, are barely making anything more than background noise. The hum and bustle of their presence is almost calming, almost familiar and reassuring, for once instead of grating. The blond chews on his lip, presses his thumbs to his temples.

He remembers the water washing away his wounds. Remembers the cleaning burn. So… had Zexion's mind really… blocked out so much of the usual pain that he goes through? How calm his mind is this morning proves that something happened, at least, and the only thing that touched his mind was…

Water.

Demyx closes his eyes and focuses and he can almost relive it, the lotus there beneath his hands in the instant before he tore it asunder and he feels terrible for what he did but… But it's never been this silent before.

God, he wants it to stay like this forever.

(He feels so, so guilty for thinking that, but god, if this is what it takes, he'd do it again in a heartbeat. He'd do it again if it meant this quiet.)

Demyx barely makes it to the bathroom before he throws up.

He breathes in and out, cheek pressed against the cool porcelain rim. The noise of his breath echoes, shuddering, back to his ears, in and out, in and out, and Demyx swallows hard. Lifts his head. As he stands and washes his mouth, he runs a shaking hand through his hair. Panic and guilt fire twisting, sickly warmth through his muscles, and god, Demyx wishes that he could take it back and knows at the same time that he won't.

Twenty-four years, and this is the first real relief that he's had. He's not going back on it now. What's done is done, he thinks, slowly steeling himself against the screaming memory-pain from Zexion, against the rising wash of nausea.

He did it, and he'd do it again, and he has to live with the consequences. And make sure that it never has to happen again.

Zexion doesn't deserve what Demyx did to him.

There is a knock on the door, pulling Demyx out of his reverie.

With sheer determination, Demyx makes his wavering way to the door, glad that his psychosis drove him to clean the apartment, body nausea-weak. He leans heavily against the walls as he goes, and he ignores how much his hands shake as he opens the door to find-

"Yo."

Demyx smiles slightly. Just what he needs. (He's not sure how sarcastic that thought is and focuses instead on stilling his hands.) "Hey, Axel. How're you?"

Axel shrugs slightly, plastic bags rustling with his movement. Demyx looks down at them in curiosity, back up, tries to figure out what seems different about Axel today because something is incredibly off and it's bothering Demyx, like a niggling little splinter. "Not much, man. I was in the neighborhood so I decided to drop by.

Raising one eyebrow, Demyx leans his shoulder against the doorframe, feet crossing at the ankles. "I'm sure. So, why're you really here?"

"Eh, heard a few things from some people I know. Said you were at the bar last night without me." Axel's eyes are hard and he looks Demyx up and down critically. "But you don't look like you went out last night. You actually look pretty… good. For once. Better than you would if you actually had gone out without me."

Demyx winces. "It was that bad, huh?"

"According to Xaldin," Axel says dryly, "you looked like you were trying to use everyone in the bar as a stripper pole at least once during the night. And then you left through the front door, alone, instead of the side or back door with someone, the way you normally do. He got worried about your pattern breaking."

Mouth open, Demyx tries to think of a reasonable explanation, but he just ends up shrugging. "I guess… I remember not feeling very good after a while, so I just came back here."

And then out again and hands on face and pain and pain and so much pain-

Demyx grimaces and pushes the memory away. Dwelling on it will not help, and he doesn't want to throw up again, not when Axel is here and feeling so strange.

Axel raises his eyebrow at Demyx's expression but shrugs and hoists the bags in his hands. "Whatever. You up for pizza and some god-awful movies, dude? I brought some pretty bad ones tonight. I figure we can MST:3K this shit up until it's halfway decent."

"I'm always good for some comedy and pizza. Did you-"

"Yeah, yeah, I got you Hawaiian so we can split the pineapple and ham, just the way you like."

"You are the best."

Axel grins and moves past Demyx. "I know."

And that's when Demyx realizes. He can't feel Axel's fire. The redhead's typically exuberant and painfully abrasive emotions are muted, tucked beneath his skin until all Demyx feels is comforting warmth. He stares blankly after Axel, amazed. With a trembling inhale, Demyx leans his full weight against the door.

He might be able to make it through this. With that thought, he pushes off the wall, shaking himself because he doesn't want to get caught just standing there, staring vacantly into the distance.

By the time Demyx gets to his living room, Axel has already set everything up and is stretched out on the couch, one arm hooked over the back. He grins up at Demyx, pats the area between his legs. "C'mere, you. We need to get our cuddle on."

Demyx settles down between Axels legs, snagging a plate of pizza as he does. "What're we watching?"

"Wild Zero. Rock and roll and zombies and the power of love."

"…you find the shittiest movies."

Axel laughs and thumbs through the menu. "Want it with the drinking game or without?"

"I'm not feeling up for alcohol poisoning tonight, Axel," Demyx mutters through his mouthful of pizza. Leaning back into the lanky man, Demyx rests his head against Axel's collarbone, breathes in his ever-present smell of smoke and citrus, something he hasn't actually experienced in years. Axel's amusement curls around him like a friendly cat, warm and rumbling, and his thumb rubs Demyx's shoulder briefly.

Demyx closes his eyes, unsure exactly why he's about to choke back tears.

"Without then." And Axel presses play.

The movie is terrible, without a doubt. Demyx laughs more than he can stand, giving up on putting anything in his mouth after the first twenty minutes for fear of choking, and Axel's frequent calls of "I have the weirdest boner right now" don't help at all. They end up ribbing the movie until Demyx's sides hurt and he has to wheeze for any breath.

(He hasn't been this happy in ages. Demyx doesn't care to try and remember an exact time. He doesn't want to depress himself.)

The credits of the movie roll, and Demyx leans back into Axel, loving the easy heat and enjoyment that he can feel, really feel from Axel that's coming without the typical bite. The redhead accepts the cuddling for a few minutes before he taps Demyx's shoulder to get him up.

"Hey, can we head outside? I need to smoke." Axel stands up before he even gives Demyx a chance to answer, swinging his legs around the blond and stretching his lithe body out. He digs the carton and lighter from his pocket as he adroitly opens the door with his hip and elbow, managing somehow to light a cigarette without burning himself or anyone else.

Demyx follows him, laughing slightly. "You know, I can tell you exactly how much that shortens your lifespan if you'd like."

Exhaling the smoke straight into Demyx's face, Axel grins. "Nah, I'm good. Thanks though."

"Just making sure. I am a medical professional after all." Demyx sits down on the balcony, threading his legs through the spaces in the railing. "It's been a while since we've hung out like this," he mentions absently as he numbs his fingers on the metal.

"Yeah." The railing shifts as Axel rests his weight on it, all long lean lines lit up in the fading light. "Last time was… six? Seven months ago?"

Demyx nods, rubbing his fingers together. The city rumbles on around their still little corner, cars on the street buzzing past, and Demyx traces the fade of the sunset scrolling across the sky. "At least. Maybe more."

"Remember how we always used to hang out in high school? That was awesome. Sleeping over at each other's house every weekend…"

"Making our parents question our sexuality…"

"Rightfully so, because you grind on more dudes than ladies, and don't you deny it."

Demyx bumps Axel's leg with his shoulder, chuckling. "Well yeah, dudes are … easier, I guess." To get off, to get close to, to get what he wants out of them, but Demyx knows better than to say it aloud. "Girls are still pretty though."

The silence that falls is surprisingly easy, Axel sighing out cigarette smoke as Demyx swings his legs into the empty air.

"Speaking of high school, I was always surprised, you know," Axel mentions out of nowhere.

Demyx leans his head back, inhales the scent of smoke and wind. "Hm?"

"To hear that you weren't going to go into music, man. You were pretty fucking spectacular with the piano back in high school. But no, you drop off the face of the earth after graduation and then I hear from you again, a year later, and you're in nursing school!" Axel laughs, raspy from his cigarettes. "Just a helluva surprise. You, of all people, a nurse."

A wry smile twists Demyx lips. "Hard to believe, right?"

"Why'd you do it?"

After a long moment of thought, Demyx answers, voice subdued, "I just… There was something about it."

Something about how raw and scraped to his marrows music always made him feel, and the idea of living with that day after day after performance- he still shudders to think about that. Nursing seemed like a colder, more practical way for him to go. What else was he going to do? He didn't, still doesn't really, have any other skills to speak of. (There's the little corner of his mind that knows that he's doing it to see how long he lasts before he snaps, because while he can't stomach the thought of just ending it all, he can't stop himself from tempting fate anyway.)

Demyx sighs and leans his head against Axel's knee, still swinging his legs absently. "Going into nursing seemed like a better idea, and … well, it has been so far, right?"

Axel nudges Demyx gently, mutters, "Don't think I don't see you ogling the Steinway in that one piano store on Main Street all the time. You want it so bad."

"Well duh. You would too if you played piano. Steinways are works of art."

Silence stretches between them again, and Demyx closes his eyes. The fire of Axel's emotions isn't painful, but rather just warm, like sunshine on bare skin, and Demyx allows himself to relax in it, to pull it closer, enjoying the contrast between that heat below his skin and the cold flowing down his throat. What he's feeling doesn't amount to much more than a crackling chorus of "yes, good, friend, happy, content", and that makes Demyx smile to himself.

The smile turns sickly when he remembers, unbidden, the look in Zexion's eyes, wide and glassy and so so terrified. Axel has no idea, Demyx muses, pulling a knee up to rest his chin on it. He has no clue what Demyx has done.

What he can do.

Flicking a glance at the casually smoking redhead, Demyx sighs, rubs his face. What does he do now? Zexion is … well, Demyx doesn't know how he's doing, and Demyx himself is feeling infinitely better, unlike the screaming pain of the past few days. Jesus, he just wished that he could talk to someone about this.

Someone like Axel. He hasn't really talked to his best friend in years, and the sudden urge to ask him anything, everything, tell him what's going on, is overwhelming.

Demyx's mouth opens and he hears himself start to ask, "Hey, Axel…"

-But what is he going to say? Ask him if he will believe that Demyx can hear and feel everyone else's emotions? He remembers clearly the sting of amused disbelief the last time, the thought-echo of "c'mon, that'd be crazy. And terrifying. God, that'd be frightening as hell." Demyx remembers this clearly, and with his eyes closed, he can almost pretend that it's that day in high school again, with the smell of smoke and clear air twining around him just like now.

This silence has dragged on too long; a nudge breaks him from his reverie. Looking up, Demyx smiles faintly at Axel's raised eyebrow before continuing. Not with the question he wants to ask, of course. Of course not, no matter how tempting it is, how much he needs to get it off his chest. He opens his mouth-

"Axel, would you believe me if I said that I can feel everyone else's emotions? If I said that I was an empath? Would you? Please. I need someone to believe me."

"Do you know how long it can take for someone to change someone else's life?" The words don't even sound like they're coming from his throat. Blood echoes in Demyx's ears, muffling his voice, because that's still not the question he wanted to ask, but it's so important anyway. It felt, feels like it has been torn from him, his heart pounding hard in his throat.

Axel cocks his head, his raised eyebrow hitching even higher before a grin spreads across his face. "For me, baby, one night only."

A snort is startled out of Demyx, and he whacks his friend in the leg. "I'm being serious, Axel!"

"So am I," Axel insists, but sits down to thread his legs through the spaces in the bars alongside Demyx, thin wrists resting on the railing above his head, his voice more serious when he continues. "I don't know, really, Demyx. I mean. You change lives every day with the work you do, so sometimes it can only take a few dedicated minutes. Others…" He shrugs. "Days. Weeks. Months. Years, even. Or not at all."

Demyx stares out over the parking lot, his fingers twisting together in the open air. Beside him, Axel swings his legs, one-two, one-two and he speaks again, quieter this time, his voice colored by his cigarettes. "It all depends on the person, really. Sometimes, it happens so smoothly that you don't notice, you can't even pinpoint a moment where it happened, and others… Like a lightning bolt from a clear sky. Totally unexpected and unheard of and when it happens, it rocks you to the center of your being.

"One thing's certain though." Axel's smile is half-melancholy, all self-deprecation, and it makes Demyx's chest twist to see it, feeling the faint burn mirrored in the emotions that are passed between them, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. "You never really forget that person. Or what they did for you." After a moment, he shakes his head. "To you. Not for you, to you."

He takes one last drag from his cigarette, flicks it over the edge. "But whatever, right? Doesn't matter much. Those people don't show up often and when they do, they don't always stay. You've been changed; their job is done."

The flare of bitterness that swamps Demyx then doesn't burn him, doesn't hurt him, but he has to swallow it back, back, back because otherwise he'll choke on it. There is a confused welter of images that he doesn't even bother trying to parse through, instead choosing to just lean against his friend. After a long moment, Axel's hand comes up to rub his shoulder, accepting the gesture.

"I'm sorry," Demyx whispers, throat clogged with too many things to speak of.

Axel laughs humorlessly. "It's nothing you should be worried about. Trust me on that. It happened a while ago. A long while ago. Before I got to be so close you, really."

Demyx closes his eyes and turns his face towards Axel's shoulder, drawing the old pain radiating from Axel into himself. He breathes through its bright, acidic burn, takes it and twists it up inside him, contorts it into something else, something that can accept and transform the pain into a good understanding, before he releases the feeling back.

A low, mollified hum comes from Axel's throat. The redhead stretches his arms out and pulls himself up, thumbs hooked in his pockets. "C'mon, Dem," he says, some of his earlier humor returned, chasing the darkness from his face. "There are more bad movies that are just calling your name."

"Ugh, as long as it's not shit like Zardoz again. I don't think I can get that drunk twice in my life." Demyx hoists himself up carefully. He checks Axel's expression for … anything really, and finds that a great deal of weight has left it, leaving him more relaxed around the eyes. Sighing in relief, Demyx follows Axel back into the apartment.

He's quiet while they resume their positions and Axel pops in some other awful movie, turning over what just happened in his mind. Demyx took something bad and made it bearable, made it able to be managed in Axel's own time. He had only thought he might be able to do something that useful.

But it worked.

Holy shit, it worked.

He took the bitterness, the knotted little ball of anger that had never quite let Axel go, and he made it… disappear. Gave it back in understandable chunks. Whatever. But whatever he did, Axel feels better for it.

A warm glow spreads under Demyx's sternum, and he feels for the first time like maybe, just maybe, his empathy could be less of a burden.

Maybe it could actually help.

.end chapter 9.

Beta-d by: Evil-Pixie-Dust!

Once more, if you'd like to read a scene that happens later in the story, please, feel free to check out the story "Only Light You See"! It's set later in this story and may (or may not) increase your interest in the eventual plot of this story! (and yes this will show up on every chapter until we get to that chapter, at which point I will wildly pimp it out, and then you'll be free of this. You still have a while to go.)

Notes for this chapter are: See, that wasn't … too bad! But Wild Zero is a real movie, as is Zardoz! Both are terribad movies and I recommend them highly, especially with a witty crowd (and if you're in a safe environment, plenty of alcohol to get you through them). Reviews are appreciated, but not required, and all are responded to!