Set in an Alternate Universe.
I know, I know...
Yet another crack pairing in another alternate universe.
Those things don't sit well with most readers.
But, just like my other crack-alternate-universe...
I am hoping for the best, because I liked writing this particular piece.
This is dedicated to Penamesolen who asked if I could write DemyxAqua.
It may not be what you expected, but I did my best, and hope you like it.
DISCLAIMER [I do not own Kingdom Hearts, or that Quote below the Title] DISCLAIMER
Happiness is a thing to be practiced, like the violin.
There were many reasons why everyone harbored some level of dislike for Demyx. He was lazy, incompetent, and annoying. If there was a job to be done, Demyx was nowhere to be found. And if you managed to find him, he would have an excuse ready. And if you managed to prove his excuse invalid, the job would be done haphazardly.
He also brought a sitar with him absolutely everywhere. How he could drag such a cumbersome object around was beyond his officemates. And bringing it was just the tip of the iceberg; his playing was the real issue.
It was fine if all he did was play in the lounge for half an hour or so, but that was never enough for Demyx. During lunch and coffee breaks, in the middle of meetings, even while riding in the elevator from the first to the twenty-fourth floor, every single mind would be ringing with the sound of the sitar. And he honestly just was not that good of a sitar player; it was decent, but it just was not good. And it did not help that the songs he played were the kind that no one listened to nowadays.
Unfortunately, the boss adored Demyx like one would adore a cute pet. He was practically the favorite in the entire office – despite his dreadful performance at work – and anyone who said anything bad about Demyx was doomed to face the wrath of a rather merciless superior.
Axel was a prime example, having been punished so severely that he could no longer look Demyx in the eye. The mocking did not stop, but everyone became much more careful since then. It was considered a piece of good fortune that their boss was hardly around. It meant the rest of the office could have their laughs at the expense of the sitar-player without fear of retribution. Demyx, surprisingly, never told on them.
Though, as horrid a co-worker as he was, there was one trait that could be considered positive about Demyx. He had a generally cheerful disposition. He always had a goofy grin, always had something nice to say about everyone, and always laughed along even if the joke was about him.
Sure, he would shirk his responsibilities, he would drive you insane with that sitar of his, and he would get you in trouble with the boss… But he would smile at you like you were the best of friends, even though he knows you just insulted him. And his smile was frustratingly contagious.
In fact, it was enviable. How could someone so hated be so happy?
They wanted to know his secret. And if they would just ask, he would tell them.
It was because of her.
Demyx lived in a small but stylish apartment complex, decorated as if it were a resort. His building had only five floors, and his apartment was on the second. At night, from his balcony, he had a beautiful view of the lavishly decorated atrium garden, and he played the part of audience to the most captivating siren to ever walk the face of the earth.
Her short blue hair and her smooth, fair skin glowed softly in the faint white light of the garden lamps. Her eyes – which he felt so blessed to have beheld when they crossed paths in the hallways – were a deep cerulean blue that reflected what he was sure to be the soul of an angel. Her figure was perfect, as if she were a statue carved by divine hands.
But what he loved most about her was that she was a muse-turned-mortal. She was a gifted musician, and she was generous with her talent. Every night, she serenaded the world with a pristine white violin tucked between her chin and shoulder, caressed by her slender fingers.
Every single note sounded like a choir of angels singing in perfect harmony. Every song was so alluring that Demyx was sure the entire world must be at a stand-still, just listening.
She was always unaware of her admirer.
But the sight of her, even from a distance, and the sound of her violin had always been enough for Demyx. She inspired him and comforted him. She drove away the clamoring echoes of mocking laughter and insults he was forced to endure. She gave him lullabies that filled his heart with enough happiness to carry him through the night and the following day. She motivated him to play that sitar of his, in the hopes that his own music could soothe another's heart the way hers did his.
But it has been two years since she last played in the garden. Those nights, they were no more than memories now.
And as another – rather harsh – day ends for Demyx, he walks home.
He enters the same one-bedroom apartment, on the same floor, of the same apartment building he has lived in for roughly four years now. He deposits his keys into the bowl on the console table by the door and walks into the bedroom. His room is exactly as he left it that morning, and it has not changed in the slightest since the day he moved in.
"Well, I'm home," he says, sighing.
He continues walking towards the balcony. He slides open the glass doors and walks to the very same spot he used to stand at to watch the lovely violinist play. He looks over the garden, at the fountain, beside which she used to stand. There was no one there. The water had no music to dance to tonight. The wind had no tune to sing to. The faint, white light had no angel to behold.
A smirk finds its way onto his lips. Sometimes, he feels bad about all that. It is, after all, his fault.
"Demyx," comes a soft purr from behind him as her arms snake around him and her hands rest on his chest. Her warmth envelops him and all the burdens he shouldered suddenly feels like air.
"Hey, you," he murmurs, turning around to embrace her. "Did you miss me?"
And tonight, like every night of the past two years, she would play the violin for him and him alone. And she would whisper, in that melodious voice of hers, affectionate words that are meant solely for his heart. She would lie in his arms, brush her lips softly against his, and run her fingers through his hair like she would for absolutely no one else.
She was his secret. The angel of light that could bring a smile to his face no matter what darkness surrounded him. The muse that could play music so beautiful, his heart forgot all else and life was suddenly full of blessings.
Out there, everyone in the entire world could hate him if they wanted to, and it would make no difference. Because at home and in his heart, where it truly mattered, there was Aqua.