Well, I wrote this back in May while struggling to create Aili's birthday fic. Then I ran out of ideas, and the ideas I had weren't working, so I decided to let it sit. And then today, when mom woke me up at 8:13 AM to help her find her keys, I decided to stay up, found this, and was like "It's getting an ending if I kill myself!" So, well, I ended it.
It came up short... but no matter.
Shout-out to ShadowAili, consider this the birthday and graduation present from that cousin in the psych ward who made you a card on a sticky note stolen from the psychiatrist! Luffs cha.
And to all my readers and reviewers, I don't think I could ever love you more!
by Darkness Princess
That was the only reason they were there. They stood quietly in the Hall of Empty Melodies, the only two figures taking up any form of space in that room. The taller of the two kept his hood down, staring plainly at the floor as he hummed silently to himself. The smaller had his hood tugged over his head and stared simply.
They met in that place. Music had been around, as one played and the other listened.
They continued to meet in that place. When the coast was clear, when the others weren't about.
"I don't understand it," Number IX spoke softly as he spun on his heels. He stared at the cloaked figure in front of him, frowning slightly. "Why are we here? Why hide? Why do any of this?"
Number VI uncrossed his arms and let his hands fall to his side. Such innocent questions, coming from such an innocent being. Not a human... being. That was all they were. Number IX didn't deserve this, he was so young, naive, so strong... There was just nowhere else to go.
He frowned slightly behind his robe's masking hood. "Because we're not dead," he answered. "We only exist."
Number IX frowned at him, then took a few steps closer. Invading his personal space, as he did with just about everyone he knew. He was so much different compared to them. So intimate, so gentle. Not a fighter at all. He hadn't struggled for this, his mind remained free of the impurities of hopeless ambitions.
He was nothing like Number VI.
Yet that was perhaps what had intrigued the superior of the two nobodies. Smaller, demanding, cunning... the schemer often had many things figured out. He knew why each member had stepped foot into the Castle, why they attacked who they could, ran about as they did. Like headless chicken sometimes, cruel masterminds at others.
Then there was Number IX, who didn't seem to have any motives at all.
Quirky. Oddly cheerful—cheer was not something that one could find often in Castle Oblivion—and very confused of his own purpose—which Number VI found rather interesting to observe—he seemed lost, obedient, moral even. Number VI was attracted almost immediately to this strange boy.
It was what brought him back to this room time and again.
Listening to the soft hum that filled the room.
"Number IX..." Number VI said in warning.
"Number VI..." He rephrased and sighed softly, and looked up with bright, emerald orbs. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do," he said. "I mean..."
Number VI nodded slowly. "You want to feel. We all want to feel something... but we don't. Deal with it."
Deal... no, IX didn't deal. He cried, he kissed, he loved. It was how he reminded himself that he was there, that he was still human. Emotionly.
These false emotions... they fell onto black robes in the form of teardrops, drifted into pale ears in the form of sobs and whispers.
"Ze—Zexy," he sobbed. "Why... why can't we go back?"
And Zexion would stroke that head of peculiar blond hair and let the subordinate cry on his shoulder as they curled up on his bed. His room was plain, the bed's mattress simply perched on a rusting metal frame. A pile of books in a corner, a desk against the wall, papers along the wooden floors, all a pale, dusty sepia tint, besides the extremely white pillow. A cloud for his bed, as insisted by Number IX. A gift, however meaningless...
But a gift nonetheless.
"Demyx... don't cry," he whispered.
Demyx looked up tearfully. "It hurts," he sobbed, shaking his head. "I can't stop, it just hurts!" And his head returned to Zexion's shoulder, sniffling and trying to silence himself, to no avail. Zexion would sit and let him cry until he was done, then wiped his cheeks gently with his sleeves and hugged him and told him he would get his heart soon.
"It wouldn't feel so... empty..." he whispered softly, looking up. "If... if I had a h-heart?" His breath came out shuddered as he tried to calm himself.
Zexion nodded and leaned against the soft cloud on his bed. The only thing soft... his mattress was old and worn, and though it would never break, it would creak and the springs poked into his sides. Pain; the reminder he was there. The cloud, the sweet feeling of peace, was a fragmented wish.
Yet real enough for IX, who frowned and looked at him. "B-but... how can we get a heart?" he asked, looking at the mattress. "I... I don't know how... to get to Kingdom Hearts from here. It's... so far away..." He let the silence form for only a second, then frowned softly. "Zexy, your bed's so sharp..."
"Kingdom Hearts will be reached by Xeh--the Superior's plan," he replied. "I... I'm here because I believed he knew how to get there... I don't know where to continue from here." He looked up, tiredness peeking from his eyes as he stared at the plain wall. "But... I said I would trust him. We'll find a way out of this."
Or so they hoped.
Another fickle emotion they chose to cling to, another memory. Of having imperfect bodies, with beating hearts and actual souls. They could only wish now, their minds tricking them into believing they have something to aim for.
Goals were the reason many were there, the reason why many continued searching, training, fighting, killing. Number IX didn't kill, and he stood in Naught's Skyway, staring up.
A large, golden heart beamed down at him from above. He sighed softly.
"I want to get the heart for you," Number VI said.
Number IX was just so interesting. He was nothing like the rest; he didn't stand quietly and manipulate, didn't sabotage and betray in the selfish goal of gaining his own heart. No, he wasn't selfish at all—he couldn't be. No, he was a sincere individual, one of the few who managed to slip past all the destructive powers which turned a mere nobody into a nobody of the Organization.
Zexion tried to comprehend how Demyx had managed to work himself in this sort of mind. It would be blamed on influence—for everything could, would, and probably should be blamed on interactions, here—and Zexion would watch as Demyx listened avidly to the others as they tried filling his thoughts with their motives. And yet, despite the whispers of garbage and misplaced mock-anger they told him, he tried to reason with it.
The reason things didn't seem to form properly in Demyx's mind. Demyx knew reason; he was smart when he listened and focused and he knew what he wanted to know, but when he heard the words from the other members, each trying to sway him to a cause he couldn't comprehend. Their cause didn't make any sense to him…
"Zexy…" Demyx's voice whispered across the bedroom chamber. "I don't understand… how come they want me?"
"Because you're pure." It was a simple enough answer. Zexion knew why they wanted him. Some where honestly curious on the quality of his heart—or lack thereof—and wanted to know what possessed him to think it still existed despite his knowledge that it didn't. Others wanted to see who could break him first. "They don't understand you. You're almost too pure…"
Demyx had given him a very confused look, and Zexion sighed softly. "Just stay that way."
With a slight nod, Demyx smiled and shifted closer on the bed, smiling in all comfort. Zexion gave him a dull glance but reduced his pride to an unimportant thought and shifted close.
This was what it felt like to be so close to joy. Something as peaceful as a child, sometimes with the mindset of one, with hugs and little kisses and the gift of music which could break Zexion's façade within the first few chords. And yet here he lay, close to the other nobody, who could be broken so easily though it didn't show. Zexion felt a need to protect him; he wanted to keep him close in a world which couldn't harm him, just to keep those happy smiles on his face.
Demyx gently rubbed his arm. "Zexy, you're thinking too much," he said softly. "Come on, sleepy-sleepy time…"
Zexion nodded as he sank back, wrapping his arms around Demyx as the blond nobody curled closely to him. And though he knew Demyx was already heading to sleep, Zexion waited for a little, merely watching the gentle rising and falling of his chest of his breathing. He had a heart, it was beating beneath his rib cage…
That childish proof of innocence. The lack of corruption… even in this… nobody… Zexion knew Demyx didn't need proof of a heart. He already had one.
Whether existent for physical purposes or a true heart… it was existent nonetheless.
With a gentle smile, Zexion noted this bit of information and declared it to be his own little secret. Resting his head on Demyx's chest, he let the strong heartbeat lull him to sleep.
Yay, happy ending! -giggle-