A story with more than three thousand words? GASP. I can write! Yeah, I know. I've kicked myself so many times for not doing anything on my stories with just one chapter in them. But I've said it before and I'll say it again! I'm a procrastinator! Trust me, I know the consequences, but nothing in the category of being killed by my friends. That's reserved for taunting them.

Also note that I like to skip from one fandom to another, and Kingdom Hearts has to be the only one I've ever had this long of an obsession. (check: I played the first game in January.)

I've never played Chain of Memories, so excuse me if Zexion seems anything close to OOC. I base his personality and actions upon those stories I've read. -cowers- Don't hurt me...

Disclaimer:There's no Zemyx. There's no AkuRoku being displayed openly. Zexion doesn't appear more and neither does Cloud. I don't think I own Kingdom Hearts. But I wish I did.

The Castle was empty that day. Well, almost empty. Of course, Superior and his little assistant were cooped up somewhere in one of their lairs or such, but the occasional member stalked the halls with little more than boredom. What else was there for a Nobody to do when they had no emotions? Actually, that was a lie.

Larxene went hunting for Marluxia in revenge, possibly for a prank he had pulled. Once, the pink-haired man had replaced all of Larxene's knives with flowers. Dandelions, but that's beside the point.

Axel and Roxas were gone on some Heartless slaying mission, and Axel would probably come home limping, arm slung around Roxas's shoulder as the blond walked without any injury whatsoever. "You and your damn cocky attitude..." the Key of Destiny had muttered once as he dragged Axel along.

Previously stated leader and XII had disappeared. Who knew what the hell they did in their spare time. All of the Organization just cooped themselves up with somebody else in their rooms, and nobody probably wanted to know what went on.

At least one member was sane. Or two.

Zexion happened to be in the library. Those lilac strands were pulled away from his stoic face to reveal the deep blue eye that was usually hidden behind the curtain of bangs. Both orbs moved across the pages of a worn and tattered book, embroidered with gold and glistening things on the cover whose title could not be read. It was lengthy and plainly written in a language (probably) only Zexion could understand with ease. An ungloved hand turned a yellowed page with a soft crinkling noise.

VI only found his peace here, among the silent books. He'd never hear murderous screaming from Larxene as she discovered Marluxia's hiding spot, or Axel laughing hysterically as he burned something or other.

For once, it was all quiet. Zexion paused in his reading to listen for something, anything that might give away this rare stillness.

Nothing. Zexion shrugged and continued with his wonderful book.

Music played from somewhere in the spacious room.

Demyx believed they had hearts. He had one, certainly. None of the others seemed to take to his theory, perhaps Axel, but he never ceased to let it go. The day came when he didn't understand why Superior said they didn't have hearts, why they couldn't feel emotions.

The blonde walked down the endlessly white hallways, disregarding the fact that he could just rip open a portal and instantly be where he wanted to be. But he didn't know where to go. He was probably the only one in Castle Oblivion who didn't have anything better to do this dark day. ("But it's always dark!" Roxas had commented angrily in an argument with Xigbar)

Demyx did not want to practice his sitar. Superior said it was meant for battle.

He disobeyed and played music anyway but there was nothing new to play.

Some tune reached the Nocturne's ears with delight and said young man was immediately lured to wherever this music was originating from. His ears were leading him farther than he would've thought, the music traveling in echoes along the empty and bare corridors. No one seemed bothered by the unidentified music and Demyx kept walking forward.

Now, he didn't expect to come to the library, of all places. Hell, he didn't even know where it was before he was in front of its doors, a golden plate labeling it 'LIBRARY.'

Demyx pushed open the door quietly and found the music was softer than it sounded two hundred yards away in some hallway.

He noticed the different colors of the books on white shelves. They brought a small light to the room and Demyx smiled a little. Life in a library. Funny.

He cast his blue-green eyes around and they fell upon the black cloak that was turned from the door. Distinctly colored hair showed it was the Cloaked Schemer, the only one who inhabited the room.

Demyx had taken Zexion for a classical type, perhaps something with a soft tune. There was a soft melody playing the mood in the room, and the quiet strum of strings caught his attention. Guitar...? Demyx pondered this new information. There was everything about Zexion that he didn't know about. All he knew was his liking for chocolates, books and that he had a sharp tongue. Now he had this favored music, but there was no way he'd be able to blackmail Zexion. Appealing, but no. Demyx had no reason to threaten the one member who had done nothing to him.

He gently closed the door and walked back the way he came, humming along to the music that now stuck in his mind.

One day, Demyx decided to visit the Schemer openly. Or not so openly. He walked in, but thought he might find something on music among the infinite number of books tucked into shelves. Zexion sat in his chair, a usual habit Demyx had observed, and lifted a light eyebrow at the sitarist. He was given a small grin in response.

"Just looking for instrumental material. Don't mind me!" he casually responded a second time to Zexion's look, and he dismissively waved a hand at him. And he lost himself among the shelves, always looking for the book he needed.

Anything on soft, melodic string music seemed to shrink and hide behind other books.

Every day, he'd watch the musician walk in. Every day his curiosity heightened as to why Demyx came in. He didn't seem to find his book, and he had once offered to help him, but Demyx gently declined the offer. Zexion was thoroughly frustrated with him.

It was that day.

Oh yes, he did have a heart. Demyx just knew it. As he grew accustomed to his new habit, he noticed the physical change in himself as he neared the library door. His palms would become sticky and his face flushed, despite the non-presence of a heart.

Guess physical changes weren't hampered without the heart.

The lack of one made these moments seem so real.

Weeks of it made it seem fake to Demyx's common knowledge.

But that nonexistent heart would beat hard and thrust these clammy feelings upon poor Demyx.

He went into the large room for the second time that day.

The creaking of the ivory doors, for the second time, startled Zexion and he shook his attention from his newer, much more cleaner book to watch the mullet haired Demyx walk (stiffly, he noticed) to the section he had left off at.

The older Nobody put his eyes back to the inked page, but could not process the words put on there for his enjoyment. He read them, thrice maybe, before he realized he didn't even know what he had just read. The book's leather cover slipped easily under his fingers as he shut it closed, placed it on the white armchair, and stepped away to Demyx's book section.

Demyx never managed to find his book. He never progressed after experiencing these strange "feelings" around VI. He just watched him read. And he certainly wasn't a stalker.

In Demyx's words, things had not made much progress. His thoughts strayed to Zexion every time he even looked at his ocean blued sitar, and he couldn't surpress the emotions he knew he felt. They may deny it, but he knew that even Nobodies could substitute something for a heart. As he sat in his room, blue sheets underneath his palms, he lifted one and pressed it where his heart should be.

It hurt there.

Zexion made it hurt.

It was his fault.

But Demyx didn't mind one bit.

"I-I can..." He imagined a thump. And another. Repeating in perfect rhythm.

He whispered the last words to himself, and himself only. "Feel it.."

Demyx came more and more frequently to the library every week. For ten straight weeks now, his visits had become regular and periodic during the day. Zexion had grown accustomed to the warm presence the Melodious Nocturne filled the room with, and was irritable when he noticed that the massive room was missing its new found glow. Thus, the walls were flat, cold and hard like marble.

The old-fashioned stereo that once sat on the long table between the shelves was long gone. Zexion had replaced it with Demyx on the first day.

But it was because of Demyx that he wasn't reading well.

Zexion felt alone.

It was perfect! A black book with blue lettering lay upon the black sheets and its new owner sat cross legged across from it with his blue sitar in his lap. Fingers were moving slightly to strum tuned notes. Demyx's eyes were following the book's pages and reading what it had to say on the musical instrument he possessed, and found himself to be making steady progress.

Hey, at least something was finally going right for him.

The same could not be said for the Cloaked Schemer

He tried again multiple times, but failed - again and again - trying to read. The key word in that phrase is 'try'. Zexion settled for snapping his book shut and sweeping out the door with a huff.

It was either the third or fourth day he suffered.

Or was it the fifth..? Nobody pays attention to the time in Castle Oblivion anymore.

As Zexion muttered things about "irregular routines" and "disturbing silence", the latter subject was immediately pounced upon and shredded to itty bitty pieces, for music happened to be flowing down the halls. Zexion perked and looked back and forth. Honestly, the source can't be far if he can hear it. His ears weren't being reliable in discerning the direction and he instead sniffed. No. Marluxia was bound to smell like blood and fear, and he knew that neither the Assassin nor Luxord listened to music. The rest of the numbers, X and up, were behind Zexion. Which left Demyx and the string melody coming from up ahead.

The footsteps were silent as he swept around the corner and peered down the hallway. A single, four sided shape of a color other than white stood out from the clay walls.

How could anyone walk these halls and not run into anything?

Zexion halted a few feet from Demyx's door. He could hear the music drifting from the room and he listened carefully to the sounds. Chords were being struck perfectly. Notes rang in unison one after the other. He could hear a beat, almost a pulse, as he closed his eyes and cut off his sense of sight.

They say a sensory is stronger when another is cut off. God, how that person was right.

The slate haired man settled for slumping to the floor, back pressed against the wall, and listening to Demyx's song. He preferred the clean sound of stringed instruments, not the blasting or banging of woodwinds or percussion.

Flutes were too high; clarinets too low.

Trumpets played too loud; and drums made the ears bleed.

But guitars - or a sitar in this case - had a whole range of sound and pitch, and it was used in a wide arrangement.

Zexion hardly heard the end of the sitar's notes and scrambled to get up and avoid Demyx's notice. Silence still followed him, but he didn't see the knowing smile on the composer of what would be Zexion's new addiction.

That was how their roles were switched. Demyx found his book, composed his own music that was to Zexion's taste, and Zexion, in turn, sat by Demyx's open door to listen to him play.

After the first few days, a book was found in his hands, gloves peeled off to lay on the floor.

Every single day, Demyx played something new. After Zexion would leave for the day, the blond would start composing another. If he didn't finish before the following morning, he simply conjured up new melodies when he played for his only audience. And every time, he'd come up with more intricate patterns to see how Zexion would react to his genius rhythm. Once, he managed to make him lean his head back and smile contently. Though the genius out in the hall thought he was being sneaky, Demyx knew he was out there solely to listen to him play his favored instrumental sound.

Both had, once again, grown used to their new routines and always followed them. Time seemed to flow at a steady rate for the Schemer and Nocturne as they played, listened and read.

As Demyx discarded his book, Zexion kept his.

He went at a slower pace than he would've liked, but the musical bliss made up for it.

After a short four weeks of calm, Demyx did something unexpected. As he played, he stood up from his bed, still playing his beloved sitar, and walked openly into the hall. Well, to say the least, Zexion was badly startled by the sudden appearance of him. Zexion. The stoic one. Startled. Demyx inwardly cheered for his accomplishment.

The older Nobody's face flushed as he gripped his book uncertainly.

Demyx smiled warmly at him and continued playing.

Zexion was reluctant as he said, "You knew?" quietly, so as to not disturb the music.

Demyx rolled his eyes in response rather than shrugging his shoulders. He slowly sat down at a particularly empty section in his playing and sat across from him. He finally responded, "First day." Zexion turned his head in what should've been embarrassment and pushed his black shoes against Demyx's as he extended his legs from their pulled up position.

And again, a routine for the next week was started.

Out of nowhere, Zexion said, "You play well," in a soft tone. Demyx widened his eyes and let his last low note ring in the air, before grinning widely and continuing to play more mid-ranged notes.

"How far have you read?" Demyx noticed how few times Zexion flipped his pages. The margin between the pages from the day before looked no different. Dark blue eyes looked up at the blond Nobody with surprise, much like Demyx had done yesterday, and muttered, "Far enough."

Liar. Demyx still smiled.

Demyx's actions were less noticeable as he continued to openly play for Zexion. He was practicing a new section as he thought about the one he loved. Yes, loved. Or at least something very close to it. Once again did his theory come into play and Demyx referred to it whenever he thought about emotions. He knew they had them. He felt it and this sitar was helping him.

For the next few hours, a smile brightened his room.

This couldn't be happening. Xemnas had said they had no hearts. He knew of Demyx's ridiculous words, but dismissed them as nothing but lies.

Was IX right?

Why had he felt odd around him? Was it really embarrassment?

He remembered what it felt like. His face had felt warm and his eyes would not meet those bright ones of Demyx's.

The silver-grey sheets underneath him wrinkled as Zexion sat down with a book in the late hours of the night. The sky outside his window didn't change, and neither did the page number at the lower corner of his black book. Moonlight from Kingdom Hearts failed to move, but it was because their world was fake.

The World That Never Was. What a sad name.

Demyx settled himself on Zexion's left as he began to move his fingers nimbly across the strings in harmony. His eyes were cast to the ceiling and shut closed, where the song instantly came as easily as his own name. His left hand stayed among the middle bridges of the sitar's neck and played such a soft, gentle melody, it could almost be called a lullaby.

Zexion noticed the difference in the pitch of the mentioned sound, and looked from his book at Demyx. He felt something clench where his heart should've been, and Zexion felt the uncharacteristic urge to touch his peaceful face.

He followed his instinct and reached out his hand tentatively to touch the smooth skin of the Melodious Nocturne's face, just the tips of his slender fingers. Demyx opened his eyes but didn't move his head.

The sitar continued to sing.

He noted that Zexion's fingertips were cool to touch and felt really nice against his skin. The owner of those fingers closed his book with his free right hand and turned to fully face him, and Demyx tilted his head away from the ceiling.

Words never were a common thing between them, they both seemed to realize as the months went by. Had it really been all that long ago when one of them had numbly walked the halls and stumbled upon the other?

Zexion brought his other hand up when Demyx hit a higher note then a lower, one after the other, and returned to the middle pitches. His volume increased.

Poor Zexion couldn't control himself. He knew these emotions once. He remembered all too well. As he looked at the other in the eye, navy to an aquamarine, he recalled a feeling that was just a short leap of what flooded his senses now.

On the other hand, Demyx was closing up his inspired song, but it hadn't even been completed last night; the fingers strumming and moving up and down seemed to find their own little souls because the song slowed and idled at an end.

Finally, two notes harmoniously twined together at the end and Demyx stopped.

His hands left the blue hued instrument.

Zexion surged up to kiss him on the lips.

And Demyx met him halfway as his sitar fell past his legs and onto the floor.

As they kissed, they both noted the taste of the other.

Demyx was Roxas's favorite sea-salt ice cream. Zexion, like those chocolates he was addicted to.

They tumbled to the floor, slate on his back and blonde dominant over him. A sly grin stretched Demyx's lips and he leaned down to murmur in Zexion's ear, "All along, huh? Just how long?" and exhaled warm breath down his neck. It was enough to make him shudder, and shakily reply, "Long enough," in a replay of Demyx's only other question to him.

Words were now a fancy topic. They liked them now.

"It's.. impossible for us to feel anything.... you know," Zexion breathed out as Demyx nipped at his neck. "Of course it is," was his low reply, and suddenly the spot where his vein should be was bitten. "No!" VI yelped and squirmed beneath IX as the latter latched his teeth onto that sensitive spot. "I-Idiot..!" He barely managed to choke it out. "N-not.. mph.. there." Zexion pushed feebly at the larger male's shoulders.

Lavender. Should've been obvious, Demyx jotted down a note. He felt him give in to to hand that stroked his sides and heard him give out a whimper. He let go of Zexion's vein and nuzzled him apologetically, again making the Schemer shiver with breaths of air ghosting over his collarbone and neck.

"Sorry." His blonde hair brushed the sides of Zexion's face and he already knew what Demyx smelled like. Again, like salt, but also of sea water. Typical. He wrapped his arms around his shoulders and leaned his head back as he let Demyx nip at his collarbone with affectionate nuzzles now and then.

How long indeed.

When the dominant one just pressed his forehead to Zexion's neck, the submissive lavender scented male easily pushed Demyx off and sat up to glare halfheartedly at him, to which he was given another one of those smiles. Sheepish this time.

As Zexion picked up his book and Demyx retrieved his sitar, Zexion replied softly as Demyx began to hum along with his starting chords.

"You're forgiven."

SO. That was done in about two days. The others took me longer cuz I'm really slow at making things.

Click that button please..? First attempt at Zemyx. :3 As usual, flames are used to aid my Axel-like pyromania streak.