How often had he done this? Demyx sighed, his water sitar falling to the floor. Despite his inability to feel emotions, he usually kept a cheerful, goofy mask on. But when he was alone, the façade shattered into a thousand pieces which he would have to reconstruct whenever someone came near. Each time, however, there was a little bit missing. He couldn’t stop the creeping emptiness that filled him.

“Demyx… you’re… acting different.” Demyx turned his head slightly to see Zexion, the Cloaked Schemer. “Zexion, what do you feel?” Demyx whispered, a hand placed over where his heart should be. Zexion remained impassive, but he was quietly calculating the outcome of this. “Nothing, of course.” He finally replied. “Of course…” Echoed Demyx.

Zexion shifted, expressing outwardly his discomfort. He slowly moved towards Demyx and draped his arms around the taller Nobody. Demyx flinched. “Zexion…” Zexion shrugged. “Isn’t this what i people /i do to comfort one another?” Zexion’s arms were warm against Demyx’s skin and suddenly, that emptiness…

It didn’t seem so scary.