Warnings: None, it's pretty fluffy

Disclaimer: If I owned KH2 Demyx and Zexion would live in a happy fluffy land without troubles or sociopathic teenagers killing them. And cake. They would have lots of cake

Notes: This was written for the lovely ShadowAili for her birthday

--

Though Demyx was a wandering soul who went from village to village with the wind, he seemed to wander into Zexion’s neck of the woods more often than not. He found Demyx in his barn sometimes, sleeping in the loft with his sitar carefully tucked away in the particular corner he preferred, out of the way and quiet, where he could see the stars through the slats in the roof. Such occasions happened often enough that Zexion simply stopped bothering to remove the blankets, leaving them there for Demyx to crawl into at any time he chose.

--

He first appeared in the village a few years ago, completely out of nowhere, with a sitar rolling along on a wheel cart behind him and a pleasant smile for everyone. By sundown, he’d set up in the square with his sitar and begun playing for everyone. The music was as strange and exotic as the man, with his dusky skin, brilliant eyes, and mussed light hair, but the townspeople welcomed the wanderer and his music, shouting requests, tossing money, and clapping him on the back.

As everyone left to go home for the night, the stranger remained. Absently, he plucked at his instrument, half-humming half-singing in another language. Zexion, in no hurry to return home, lingered by the fountain, listening.

“You plan to stay here all night?” he asked Zexion, fingers not leaving the sitar.

“Do you?”

The stranger shrugged, smiling. “I’ll find a place to sleep, perhaps. There’s woods nearby and stars in the sky.”

“Haven’t you a home?” Zexion asked.

He laughed in response, a clear sound. “This whole world is my home. I just go from place to place, play my music, and work odd jobs.”

Zexion smiled despite himself and then looked up at the clouding sky. “Well, for your sake, I hope the whole world has a roof to keep out the rain that’s coming.”

--

On impulse, Zexion had offered the stranger, Demyx, a place to stay for the night; he lived alone and had plenty of space. It would be a shame to waste the space, he told himself, especially since there was one who would need it.

That was the first night Demyx spent in his barn.

Over the past three years that Demyx had been coming and going from their town, Zexion repeatedly offered Demyx a space in his home but the sitarist refused every opportunity. He wouldn’t sleep in a house, he explained. He was a wanderer, through and through.

“When I find a place my heart can’t bear to leave, that’s my home.” Demyx explained one night, sitting with Zexion in front of his house. “Until then, I sleep where I sleep. Not in a house.” Then he smiled again and pointed to the sky at a streak of white: a falling star.

“Make a wish.”

--

The next morning, Demyx was there again, sleeping in his corner.

“Thought you would have left,” Zexion commented when his friend awoke. “You hardly ever sleep in the same place twice.”

Demyx shrugged and smiled, as always, “Work’s been good here. Thought I’d stay another day. I’ll probably be on the road again tomorrow.”

He wasn’t.

“The job I’m working looks like it’ll take another day to finish,” Demyx admitted that evening, sitting at the base of a tree with Zexion and sipping hot cider. “D’you mind letting me stay in the barn again.”

“Of course not,” Zexion replied. Even knowing the answer, he still tried, “You could stay in the house, you know.”

Demyx laughed and shook his head, rising to his feet to head off to sleep. “Good night,” he bid his friend.

Whatever the project was, however, it seemed Demyx required still more time because Zexion found Demyx in his barn a fourth night, and then a fifth.

“I’m starting to think you might not want to leave,” Zexion said one night, sharing a dinner under the stars with Demyx. “This is the longest I’ve known for you to stay in one place, friend. It’s been a week.”

Demyx set aside his bread and plucked a few notes on his sitar, filling the crisp autumn air with music. “The roads are muddy; it’s too much trouble to go to the next village right now.” He leaned back on his elbows.

“With all your wandering,” Zexion asked thoughtfully. “have you found your home yet?”

Demyx smiled, “You know, I’m wondering if I haven’t.” He leaned back on his elbows and looked up at the sky. “A shooting star!” Demyx tilted his head to better look at Zexion. “Make a wish.”

Zexion shifted position so that he sat just behind the reclining Demyx and leaned forward, his face so very close to the wanderer’s. “I wish you’d make your home with me.”

Demyx smiled. “How unfair. You already knew my wish.”