Characers/Pairing: Lexaeus-x-Zexion (Lexaeus 1st-narritve) Rating/Warning: K+/Homosexual relationship

Title taken from the song Hallucinations by David User

I worry about you.

Your behaviour is slowly turning into something unsettling. No one else can see this change but me. Even you can't see it for yourself. You cannot feel yourself transform, or look in the mirror and see a different Zexion staring back. You just see your old self in the glass, blinking slowly. I am not you, however, and I know you. You have changed, and you continue to do so.

Maybe being an illusionist is affecting your metal state. Maybe all the times you have broken minds like unwanted toys is finally getting to you. An eye for an eye. For every nightmare you create, you creep closer to insanity. What a scary thought. Would I have to wrap you up in a straight-jacket to protect you from yourself? I would still hold you, talk to you, and kiss you, although you cannot hug me back… Actually, that might make it worse, because you enjoy touching me, do you not? I can tell. The way your hands caresses my skin, making me moan and you laugh- Yes, you do like it. I like it too.

You act so grown-up at times - confident, cunning and smug – like a proper Nobody. Then there are times that you can be a lost little boy, tripping over your own shoelaces. You complain about dreams, of monsters and pain and that rattles me over breakfast, while you drink your tea in silence. You do things that are so unsafe, so unlike you, or maybe this is the new you, and he wants to stay and get rid of you. I do not like him. He can be too violent and ghastly, more so than you. I prefer your company. No one else's.

Do you realise what you are doing any more, or is it all in the moment? Sometimes you walk into my room at night, paler then any phantom, and you will stand over me, watching me pretend to sleep, really watching you back. Sometimes you just stay there - for anything between a minute and a quarter of an hour - then when content, you sigh and return to your own bed, leaving me again with nothing but the need to follow you. However, most of the time, you crawl into my bed with me; snuggling up close, quiet so not to wake me. I wait for you to fall asleep first, before I let myself drift off too. I missed your actions the first few nights. I found out the first time you climbed under my blankets without an invitation. I rolled over and almost crushed you. You yelped and I did too, seeing wide eyes glowing in the dark. We surprised each other. Now I just leave a side of the bed free of you, just in case. It is always the space on my right side, because you like that side. It lets you feel like you belong somewhere.

You have odd quirks like that. Habits that make you feel powerful and in-control. Books have places to live, as does the food, test tubes, and clothes, everything we own. If you see something out of its place, you try to ignore it at first, but the urge to fix it overwhelms you and you fly over, moving it an inch to the left so it is home again, and you breathe out with a small grin.

You do not finish your dinners now. You always leave a little behind, untouched. It's always the fattiest portion - some meat or oily fish. You eat all your vegetables, thankfully. You offer the leftover's to me, pushing your plate across the table. Sometimes I take it, just to make you feel better. Sometimes I say "no thank you" and you throw the waste in the bin straight away. This is a rarity but at times, I politely suggest that you should finish the whole meal. You will take offence and leave the table and me, so I do not say it as often as I should.

You need to eat properly. You do not have much of a breakfast, no lunch. You keep have midnight searches in the kitchen. How many times have I found your hand actually in the cookie jar, looking guilty? You will say sorry, not meaning a word of it. You cannot live on sugar forever. I am waiting for the day you just crash and collapse from the high, and stay there, limp. I can see your ribcage pushing against your lovely skin. Every time I stand behind you while you look into the full-length looking glass, and place my arms around your small waist, I fear I will snap you in two. You do not share the phobia. You lean back against me and smile, rocking us slowly from side to side. I close my eyes as you do that, lips pressed to your crown, smelling you. You are a compulsive cleaner, so you have the scent of soap and shampoo, mixed with darkness. It becomes you.

You like whispering into my skin, though I cannot make out the words. It sounds like mewling mumbling, like a young animal. Just like a friendly tiger cub or young bear. I love being so close to you, holding you like an infant, cradling you as if you are my own little child. I know that you are safe then. I know I am very protective over you, possessive. You are mine and I am yours. No one matters to me but you. I only have you left, in this whole universe. It's as close to "I love you" our kind can get.

May I ask? Would you break down even more if I went away? Would you go mad? (Or madder maybe?) Do you fear I would walk out of you, leave you in the shadows alone? Because I could never do that. I need you just as much as you need me.

It is alright, my fragile Schemer. No matter what happens to you, I will place my hand on your shoulder and tell you not to worry. I will tell you not to weaken and not to give up because that's not my Zexion. We will be alright, and we will stay together while everything else races by. We will become brilliant lunatics together.