Author's Notes: This story is based on something my grandma, who died very recently, used to tell me. I wrote this in the strict honor of her. Enjoy. Summary: We lay in a field of wildflowers, but something was not right. He was not right. Zemyx. Rated T, for themes.
Author's Notes: This story is based on something my grandma, who died very recently, used to tell me. I wrote this in the strict honor of her. Enjoy.
Summary: We lay in a field of wildflowers, but something was not right. He was not right. Zemyx. Rated T, for themes.
Disclaimer: I do NOT own. Sadly.
Queen Anne's Lace
Completed October 20, 2008
We lay in a field of wildflowers, my head resting languidly on Demyx's lap. His fingers are idly running through my hair, lightly massaging my scalp. I am nearly falling asleep.
Looking up at Demyx, I see that his face is drawn in a thoughtful sort of pensiveness. I don't need x-ray vision to see the gears swiftly turning inside his head. I know he is in pain, his cerulean eyes coated in just the slightest trace of tears. I know the only reason he is holding back is because I am here.
I reach slowly up towards his face after a moment, wiping away a tear that dared spill down his smooth cheeks. Blinking quickly down at me, he runs nimble fingers through his hair quickly before uttering a soft, "I'm sorry, Zexion."
My chest constricts slightly, knowing just how much pain he is in this very moment and yet he still finds the time to think he is upsetting me.
"Demyx," I say quietly, grasping his hand in mine, the tear now damp in both of our hands, "Demyx, you have no need to apologize to me. I want to be here with you."
"But what about your book deal! I really think you should just fly back to L.A. and-"
Interrupting him, I reply, "No. Demyx, your mother just died. I should be here with you." Hating the biting edge my voice has taken, I try quickly to smooth it over. "Besides, I loved her too. She was always good to me and accepted me and our relationship together. She was more of a mother to me than my own mother was. I need to be here, Demyx. For her. For you."
He doesn't reply, but nods. Leaning slowly down, he plants a chaste kiss atop my forehead. Together, we sit in silence for several minutes before Demyx reaches next to him and plucks a flower, seemingly at random, holding it in front of my eyes to see.
"Do you know what this flower is, Zexion?" he asks me, a faraway look on his face. Glancing at it, I shake my head. It is a slightly weedy, white flower, and smells a little bit funny to me, like cheap department store perfume.
"It's called Queen Anne's Lace, Daucus carota. But it's also sometimes called Bishop's Lace. It's actually a wild carrot and that was native to Europe until it was brought over to North America by settlers some time ago. Supposedly, the flower got its name because the queen at the time, Queen Anne, used to sew the most beautiful lace in all the land. She was so good at making lace that aristocrats came from miles around to buy her lace.
"She soon became determined to make the most beautiful lace in the world, full of stories like all the old-time tapestries you see. She was making good progress on the lace too, that is, until one day when she pricked her finger with a sewing needle and got a single drop of blood on the lace she was working on. They say she quit making lace after that, that she'd lost her talent for it with that tiny drop of blood that stained her final work.
"But my mom used to tell me a different story, Zexion. You see that tiny purple flower at the center, the one they say is Queen Anne's blood? The one right there?" I peer closer at the flower and, indeed, there is a tiny purple flower in the exact center that my eyes missed the first time I peered at it.
"My mom used to tell me that the little purple flowers really represents Queen Anne's heart. She always said that Queen Anne's husband died a horrible death and she became very heartbroken. Eventually, she just couldn't live any longer without her love and stabbed herself right in the heart, literally dying of a broken heart. Mom used to tell me that I should never pull the purple flower from the center because that is the flower's heart, that the flower will wither away and die just like Queen Anne did all those years ago."
I stare up at him, studying the way his face is sad and tears are sliding down his tanned cheeks and knew in that instant. I knew that if I was ever in Queen Anne's position, if I ever lost Demyx in any way, shape or form, I, too, will die of a broken heart. It will be unavoidable.
"Do you think that that's why Mom died, Zexion?" he asks me in a small voice, his eyes tightly clenched.
I recall how, not four months ago, we made a similar trip from our home in L.A. to Ohio to bury Demyx's father after he died in a motorcycle accident. Only a few days ago, we got the call from Demyx's aunt that his mom, too, had died.
"It's a strong possibility, Demyx," I reply, squeezing his hand tightly. "Your parents loved each other so much that they couldn't stay apart any longer. They knew you would be really sad without them around, but they also knew that I love you just as much as they love each other and knew you would eventually be alright. They also knew how strong a person you are and decided it would be okay for both of them to leave because they need each other so much."
"You make me strong, Zexion," Demyx says after a moment, once again leaning down to kiss me, but this time on the lips. The kiss is soft and light and nothing like the normal, heated kisses we share, but I love in nonetheless. After the kiss ends, he continues to stare down at me. "What you said makes a lot of sense, Zexion. I just want Mom and Dad to be happy together. But can you promise me something?"
"Anything," I murmur.
"Promise me that you'll keep my heart safe." His voice is so sincere that it brings tears to my eyes. I know that he is terrified of enduring the pain and sadness his mother had gone through in her last days.
I take the flower from his hand, sniffing at it again before smiling slightly. On second though, it smells a bit like him, like Demyx. Like life and love and the future.
"I will, Demyx," I say softly, scarcely above a whisper. "Always."
A/N: No one that I've talked to seems to heard of this version of the story behind Queen Anne's Lace. Have any of you ever heard it? Well, hoped you enjoyed! Be a dear and leave me a review. Thanks!