FicWad

The Wreckage
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Demyx sat with the letter Zexion had written in his hands, tears streaming down his face.

Zexion was gone.

It had been two weeks since he had faded out of the worlds.

There hadn't been any time in this life that had been harder for the young musician. He hadn't touched the piano- it still had the sheet music for 'Watermark', Zexion's favorite song on it. He couldn't look at it. Everywhere there were tiny reminders of Zexion's presence. The teapot he always used was still in the kitchen sink, a forgotten teacup on Demyx's dresser, asmall note that he was in the library- left for him that torturous morning, before Demyx had realized that he was gone.

Lately, his songs had all been full of sorrow, sorrow that was nearly real, yet tantalizingly out of reach of a Nobody's grasp. The emptiness of not having a heart was that much more crushing without anyone to share it with.

He set aside the crumpled letter- he'd only just found it buried beneath the papers in Zexion's room. He'd been lonely, and had nothing better to do with himself. Most of the other members had left him alone. That's what he wanted to be though, so he could try and get through this. It was so hard not to think about him- but maybe it was good to. He didn't really remember anything bad- there was just so much he wished he could have done...

He wanted to bring Zexion to the Land of Dragons to get some tea, he wanted to go to see the sun rise over the town as they sat at the very top of the ruins of Hollow Bastion again, he wanted to see him laugh again, smile, he wanted, he wanted, he wanted...

There was just so much...

He remembered everything Zexion had written about. All those little times... he had wondered what the illusionist had been thinking. It was so funny that he'd thought of those times- particularly the one where he'd gotten scared in the library.

Demyx still couldn't resist a chuckle- Zexion's expression had been priceless.

His thoughts drifted to the night before the illusionist's disappearance, tears coming to his eyes.

"Zexy, this is so cool!" he said, beaming at the slate-haired Nobody.

It was one of the rare nights that he had been able to sneak into Castle Oblivion.

"I tried..." Zexion said softly, smiling.

He'd made the illusion of a storm. It was a fantastic storm with innumerable streaks of lightening and thunder pounding in the musician's ears. It was incredible- everything felt so real! The torrential rain, the gales of wind... it was wonderful. And in the illusionist's bedroom at the Castle, neatly contained.

He tackled a surprised Zexion with kisses, running his hands through the illusionist's hair, smiling.

"W-what are you-?"

"Thanking you," Demyx chuckled mischievously. Zexion smiled as Demyx yanked him onto the 'soaked' bed, kissing his neck.

And then the next day, Zexion was gone. Forever. The other Nobodies had left Demyx alone- he was glad. He didn't really want them to see just how weak he was right now- as if he hadn't been weak enough before.

Zexion had always said that his strength was in believing. Believing that things would get better- he remembered the afternoon he had been told that, over tea and coffee. Tea for Zexion, extra-strong coffee for him, made by Axel, who made coffee strong enough to peel paint off of walls.

"I screwed up on my mission again..." Demyx pouted, sitting on Zexion's lap. The shorter Nobody rolled his eyes, putting his arms around the musician so he could still read, if over his shoulder with effort. "Completely blew it..." he said, letting out a sigh.

"You think that you are weak, don't you?" Zexion asked, looking up.

"Of course I do- I can't ever do my missions right!" Demyx said, looking frustrated.

"Don't judge yourself by your missions- your strength obviously doesn't lie in them. It lies in other things. Your passion for life, your firm belief that things will get better, that we have hearts..." he trailed off.

Demyx kissed his cheek, snuggling into him, "Thanks Zexy," he said.

"You know I don't like it when you call me that."

"I know. But you know I'm gonna keep calling you Zexy anyway."

"Yeah, you always do."

Demyx smiled upon remembering that, and set the letter aside. Zexion's room had remained untouched- his bed was still neatly made, amug sat on the desk. His eyes lingered on the letter again, the slightly wrinkled paper blending in with the stark white flooring.

He hated it here more than ever. So bleak, quiet, and lonely... Now he knew how Axel had felt when Larxene had gotten killed as well. First Roxas leaving, then Larxene fading. It was horrible. It made sense that Axel had left. The echoing halls, the emptiness that surrounded them. It wasn't enough that emptiness consumed them.

After a few more silent moments passed, he stood, and curled himself up on Zexion's bed, burying his face in the lost illusionist's pillow, taking in the faded scent of mint and lavender, a soothing medley, that after atime would lull him into sleep.