KH - Return :: Rewrite: Chapter Seven, "Mako"
Return :: Rewrite
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Character: Demyx
Genre: Sci-Fi/Romance
Rating: T / PG-13
Chapters: 7/7
Beta: Dystopian Hope
Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts rights belong to Square Enix and Disney. This piece of fiction is fan-made and as such I am making no monetary profits off of this.
Stepping lightly around a planter, Demyx slid down the hall away from his room and toward the elevator, Zexion in tow. It was nearing midnight, and upon the realization that Zexion's parents- or, rather, his mother- would be expecting him home or fear the worst the pair had quickly jumped into the shower and thrown some clothes on, lest their actions from the night be revealed to the world on a silver platter. Least to say, such an event would have been slightly mortifying. As it were, they couldn't seem to creep quiet enough for Demyx's nerves. Every other step drew a gentle, muffled pomp from their socked feet, nearly driving the blond insane with every nearly silent second.
Despite his paranoia the world dragged on around them, eerily quiet as if to sneer at his anxiety. When the pair finally got to the elevator the Hybrid let out a sigh of distress, only to tense up as the blond passed the machine entirely. "I thought we were taking the elevator," he commented as quietly as he could, pointing to the cold steel doors with one sneaker-wielding hand.
"Too loud," the older replied, his voice an even gentler whisper. "We'll take the stairs." Pointing to a door at the end of the hallway, he motioned for Zexion to follow as quickly as possible. The wood floors nearly made the boy slip as he hurried down the hall after his boyfriend, but when the Hybrid received a light kiss on the nose for his efforts he deemed the rush worth it.
Taking hold of the doorknob, Demyx eased the door open, wincing when it gave a long, loud creak. "We don't use the stairs, much."
"This house is five floors," the Hybrid mused. "I don't blame you."
Slipping their shoes on, the pair slipped onto the staircase, closing the door as softly as they could behind them. Not unlike a company's staircase, the walls were an off-white that screamed "trying too hard" with black numbers spray-painted at the top of every floor to designate which was which. The number before them read "3" in a very blocky, very generic font. Carpets of an off-white that was no more than a single shade lighter than the walls, if not the shade itself, shielded what was obviously concrete from view, leaving one with the impression that they were standing in animal remains.
"Mom never got around to redesigning these," Demyx noted. This observation was shortly followed with a wince as his voice seemed to bounce from every wall twice before finally reaching their ears. It came accompanied with a light ring that signified that the guard-rail was vibrating from the noise.
Zexion rolled his eyes. "No talking," he whispered as near the older boy's ear as he could reach, standing on tip-toe so much as to come up to Demyx's ear-lobe. The blond laughed, pulling the Hybrid into his arms and sweeping him into a kiss that left both their heads spinning by the time he moved away.
"Got it," the boy gasped, leaning his head against the Hybrids before placing his boyfriend back onto the floor and making his way downstairs. When Zexion made no move to follow he gave a gentle chuckle.
Shortly after the Hybrid found himself being carried piggy-back- though he couldn't bring himself to mind. Soon, they were on the first floor, opening the door to reveal the magnificent foyer. The prominent clip, clop of Demyx's shoes could be heard from any corner of the room, though the blond didn't worry as he didn't see a soul in sight.
"Demyx," someone announced from off to the side. "I wasn't aware you had a guest." Two pairs of eyes shot over to the source of the voice, taking in the figure of Mr. Atkin-Downes and he stood in the kitchen doorway wielding none-other than a pint of lemon-meringue ice-cream, a smug expression, and a spoon. "Please; join me for a refrigerator raid," he offered, motioning towards the kitchen with the hand wielding the spoon, his accent leaving the two slightly befuddled. "I do believe the Orange Sherbet is about to expire."
Demyx jumped at this. "I'm in," he announced quickly. "I didn't know we had ice-cream…"
"I didn't either," the man admitted with a scoff. "They're your mother's." He turned to Zexion. "You in?"
He paused, torn between their trip home and the sugary treat. "Is there possibly any lime?"
The man laughed good heartedly. "I'll see what I can do," he replied honestly, motioning for them to follow him into the kitchen. Demyx padded after his father, sporting a grin.
"Think I could drive you back in the morning?" he suggested, allowing the boy to slip to the floor as they reached the kitchen island, which already sported a spoon and a pint of Orange Sherbet, which Demyx nearly attacked. A bleached white mahogany hardwood clacked beneath the smaller boy's feet as he made contact, moving soon to take a seat at one of the white leather barstools that lined the white marble island. All around the room everything was a vibrant white. Thought it reminded the Hybrid of a hospital he couldn't bring himself to think of the room as one. Something about it simply breathed that it was home. "We could call; leave a message." Sliding the top from the icy treat, he spooned a large portion into his mouth with a squeal of excitement that nearly had the younger boy chuckling.
After Zexion got over this urge, he shrugged, adjusting his position so that he wasn't half hanging off the chair as he watched Luxord rifle through the freezer. "Sounds good," he admitted, eyeing the boy as he shoveled ice-cream into his mouth.
"Aha!" Mr. Atkin-Downes exclaimed happily, tugging a small pint-sized container from the freezer with exuberance. "You know, his mother hoards this stuff in the back of the freezer- been doing it for years- and forgets about it. Naturally," he announced grandly, "someone has to dispose of it!" Dropping the pint on the counter, which was indeed Key Lime, along with a spoon, he watched Zexion for a response.
A small smile, miniscule in width, was all the man received as the boy politely removed the top and scraped the treat into the spoon. Then, placing the spoon upside-down onto his tongue, he licked it clean before returning the utensil for another scrape. A comfortable silence ensued as the man finally retrieved his own pint and dug in. For a long period of time only the bonk of the bouncing of cardboard on marble could be held every time they dug in, and the occasionally non-soundless scrape made by Zexion were the only sounds that could break the relaxing monotone.
"You know," the man remarked a good amount of time later, finishing a glob of his Lemon Meringue, "I was invited to host the Q and A session this weekend. I have some box seats for you and your boyfriend since Naminé doesn't want to go." Zexion sputtered, but this was not heard over the deafening silence that followed this comment.
"They're going to ask you to be Governor again, aren't they?" It wasn't a question; not with the way poison dripped from the words.
"I can make a difference this way-"
"Not with Ansem and Xehanort on the Committee-"
"There are ways around him."
"Yeah; like getting outside a circle!"
"There are ways of getting outside!"
"This is just another way to stay inside the stupid-"
"I'm going to accept." The moment was charged, violent, and Zexion very nearly looked away from the spectacle of the two fighting. Luxord turned to the Hybrid, then, looking a bit ashamed. "Sorry about this," he amended, looking the part. "It's just that my son and I have never seen eye to eye."
Demyx scoffed. "Doesn't really make sense, though; we're the same height."
"That comment was not appreciated," the man snapped, turning a sharp eye to his son.
Cowering a bit before his father's gaze, Demyx turned his eyes to the floor. "Sorry." Jumping from the island, Zexion turned to the door. Shocked, the blond's watched him make his way to the exit. "Where are you going?"
"Home," the Hybrid replied, ear flicking lightly at the word. "There's something I have to do."
"Can it wait?" the older boy asked, drawing a confused expression from his father. Zexion stared up at him, then, looking him straight in the eye. There was something in that gaze that clicked with Demyx, then. "I'll drive you," he volunteered. "Thanks for the ice-cream, Dad." With that thrown over his shoulder, he hurried his boyfriend out the door before his father could make any more comments.
…
Midnight had fallen upon Zexion's suburb just as it did with any other that night: with little clamor, the streets deathly silent, barren of any cars or pedestrians. A thick layer of snow sat heavily upon the roads and roofs, leaving the world muffled in its own blanket of white. The tires of Demyx's truck left gray-brown lines on the road beneath them where it compressed the layers into a sheet of ice. Through the quiet two boys held hands in the confines of the older one's truck, breathing mist into the air before them as they swirled patterns onto one another's palms.
The tension from the kitchen had not been forgotten, but had, instead, been pushed aside for the time being to allow for the comfortable moment of nearness they had been allowed. Glancing at the clock, Demyx read that it was nearing one in the morning. He cleared his throat, earning Zexion's eyes. "Winter break's over in three days," he commented lightly. "Think I could spend the night- or, umm, morning- at your place?" The implication was not lost on Zexion as they pulled up before his house.
Leaning forward, the two boys met in a tender kiss, their cold-chapped lips slowly brushing against the others'. A trill of pleasure traveled the length of the Hybrid's spine, calling to his mind their actions not five hours hence. He allowed a grin to grace his lips as the promise of ecstasy tainted his thoughts. Pulling away, though, he bit his lip. "I can't," he groaned in answer. "I wish I could, really," he amended as Demyx looked to the floor in embarrassment. "It's just that I have to do something tonight. Work." When the older boy didn't look up from his feet, Zexion slid his forefinger along the length of his chin, guiding their faces together for a warm, wet kiss that left them trembling. When they finally came apart, the Hybrid rested his head against his boyfriend's. "You were amazing last night," he gasped, staring right into the boy's eyes. "It's just that I have things to do, and if you're around I'll never get them done."
The implication was not lost on the blond. "I love you," he whispered, pecking the younger boy's lips as the Hybrid whispered the words right back. Another warm kiss later and the boy left, leaving Demyx alone in the car to watch him go in, clenching his hands against the steering wheel in an attempt to stop a fit of violent shaking.
Snow crunching beneath, and into, the Hybrid's sneakers, the younger boy slowly made his way up to his front porch, blissfully unaware of his boyfriend's distress. By the time he focused on his surroundings rather than the pleasant throbbing in his lips he was already in his room, unpacking the contents of his bag. Snow was beginning to fall outside once more, and he whispered a quiet prayer to Zalera to wish Demyx a safe ride home. Once that was done, he rifled through his bag, searching through the contents before tugging out his computer, Lexaeus. Grinning, he flipped the pocket-computer open.
"Power on," he commanded, waiting eagerly for the screen to flicker to life and reveal the improvements Arpeggio had made to the software. When nothing happened, the boy simply stared at the screen. "Power on," he directed again with no fruits to show for his effort. Blinking, he sat for a moment in his perplexity. "Lexaeus?"
"Present," a deep voice responded from the small speakers. The screen burst to life, revealing to the boy an icon of a heavily-muscled man with orange hair swooping back from his face. Beady eyes stared out at Zexion, leaving him slightly uncomfortable. "You have one message," the man stated, leaving Zexion's mind jumbled.
"A message?"
"Would you like to read it?"
Silence.
"Umm… sure?"
Tabs opened at the bottom of the screen at a rate that the Hybrid couldn't follow. "Harmonious welcomes, Zexion," the sarcastic voice of Arpeggio greeted the boy. "Well, everything's voice-activated, now. Just make sure to call Lexy 'Lexicon' when using him and stuff, okay? Open tabs by your touch screen," the tabs at the bottom flashed, "or by telling Lexy what to open. That's about it. Good day." Zexion sighed.
"She really doesn't like me."
"Who?" Looking to Lexaeus in shock, Zexion shook his head.
"It's nothing. Um…" He trailed off. "Lexicon?"
"Yes?" He was already aware of the nickname, it seemed.
"Could you do a search for the blueprints of a gas mask?"
"Right away." Compared to Arpeggio, Lexaeus was very… monotone. The job still got done, though, as within seconds he was presented with a page on the design of gas-masks, bringing him from his observations.
Zexion blinked. "Would this work for heavy gases?" A knock at his door tore him from the screen. Jumping, he looked to the entrance of his room, only to find the door already wide open and his mother standing there, back tall, tail calm at her side. "Mom," he greeted with a smile.
"Thanks for calling," she quipped with good nature.
Wincing, Zexion graced her with an apologetic grimace. "Sorry," he managed, looking down at her feet. As he did this he missed the transformation in her face from sarcasm to a serious mask of indifference.
"You were told not to get attached."
Wincing again, the boy didn't look up as he responded. "I know."
The woman glanced at the screen, then, and she sighed heavily. "For your sake, I hope that works."
Long after she had left, Zexion stared at the blueprints. They were ancient; long passed their time, they were bulky and wouldn't do for the heavier compounds they would be encountering not soon after. Setting to work, the Hybrid bent over his desk, making sketches and outlining wire-mechanisms.
…
The world was falling apart around him, Demyx found. Photos lined the walls around him, but he could find no meaning to them. Reaching for the paper, cigarette in hand, the blond ripped them down, throwing them into a cardboard box he'd grabbed from downstairs. Something was different about the boy: his eyes weren't quite focused, and he didn't bother with doing the job neatly. Some photos fell to the floor.
Eventually, to get to the pictures higher up he grabbed a ladder, and his steps were heavy, leaving the tool to wobble ominously with each step. He fell multiple times, but nothing seemed to break him from the stupor. A fog enveloped his brain, and there wasn't anything in him shouting at the boy to stop. Although a voice might have been in his subconscious for him to put them back up, he continued on, intent on removing the catalog of his life from the immediate space around him. There were no more reminders of mistakes, first kisses, or old friendships gone wrong.
Bringing the box out into the back yard, he flicked the cigarette atop the pile and watched his memories burn.
…
Knocking on the glass of the gatekeeper's room, Zexion watched in amusement as old Maurice startled awake, snorting and snuffling before giving a great sneeze that fogged up the window. The Hybrid laughed, bending forward to speak into the microphone, before pausing to adjust the package under his arm. "Good morning, Maurice."
"Doggarn it!" the man exclaimed, attempting to disentangle himself with his over-coat, which had somehow managed to envelope his arms and flip several times to resemble a knot. "This stupid thing- I-I'll be with you in a second!" he stuttered, hands reaching awkwardly about the coat. "I just need to- ah!" With the pull of a drawstring he was released from the coat's vice-grip and could look directly at the fog on the glass, which had remained since he'd sneezed on it. Zexion watched on with amusement as the man reached beneath his desk to retrieve a squirt bottle and a rag, which he used to clean off the glass. "I assume you want in?" the man presumed upon getting a good look at the boy.
"Yes; that would be nice," he replied, attempting to ignore the way his clothes were beginning to freeze to his body.
The man chuckled. "I'll call a car down." Minutes later, the Hybrid said his goodbyes to the man and made his way into the retrieval car- which was not a Porsche- at the insistence of a driver who obviously didn't want to jump from the car for a Hybrid. Before long, he was before the blond's large, intimidating house, which he usually walked right into without blinking. However, the scent of burning spun in his nostrils, spiking acid into his brain as the smell pierced through him. Wincing, he looked around for the source, only to find nothing. Glancing down at the package in his gloves, he raced around the building, intent on discovering whatever was the source of what smelled like photo paper and cigarettes; the two things he'd been associating Demyx with as of late.
His efforts were soon rewarded when he turned the corner around the house. There Demyx was, staring at a box of photos as they burned. Fire licked just outside the cardboard, but didn't go any further than that. They reached for the sky, asking for more fuel; more things to consume; anything. Instead, they got a stoney, lack-luster stare. When a flame licked a bit too close to his boyfriend, Zexion lunged, turning Demyx away from the flames, only to be met with a gaze as blank as paper. Flinching, the Hybrid stared deep into the boy's blank eyes.
"This is my fault," he whispered, biting his lip as the blond didn't respond. When he tried to take off a glove he was shocked to find that it had already adhered to his hand, the ice forming a seal around his knuckles and wrist. Hissing a curse, he tugged harder, only to come away unsuccessful. He heaved a groan, looked up at the boy in anger. "Why the hell did you go and get this bad on me before I could get you into the lab or something?" His bad language shocked even himself, but the boy simply ignored it, going back to tugging even harder at the glove.
No go, but the fire had settled and was now nothing more than cinders.
Nothing remained.
He paused, then, glancing up at the older boy before focusing on the glove. "'Like when you get your tongue stuck to a flagpole,' right?" he chuckled, giving himself a moment to savor the utter irony of the moment before bringing his glove to his mouth. Focusing his breath into a thin stream, he blew into the seam between his wrist and the glove. When the fabric was finally free, he sighed. "I'm just causing you all sorts of trouble, aren't I?" With that, his hand slid into Demyx's, and he watched the boy's eyes come to life.
The blond looked to him with expectancy. "What just happened?" he deadpanned.
"I'll tell you later," the Hybrid replied, tugging him towards to house. "Right now we have a meeting to attend."
…
The room had been packed to overflowing, most of which being populated by humans. An occasional Hybrid could be seen filling in the few gaps in the crowd, drawing Demyx's eyes from where they had originally rested; on the stage, where his father stood appraising the group and, behind him, the Exceptions Committee board sat. Through it all there was a small comfort in the back of his head and through his body. Gone forever were the shakes, the cigarettes. Instead, his fingers lightly traced to lines in Zexion's left hand, loosely held in his beneath their seats.
Reporters were still milling about in the front row, lining the pedestal with their bodies in at attempt to get the best seat for the conference. Company names were spouted at rates that nearly had Demyx reeling, but he kept this to himself.
One reporter, to Demyx's chagrin, simply pulled out a lawn chair and placed it directly in front of his father before seating themselves in it, completely invisible to the arguing gaggle of columnists despite the fact that they were nearly five feet closer to the stage than anyone else. Tracing nervous fingers along his boyfriend's palm, the blond looked about. Something about how the Hybrids were acting- or holding themselves, really, with their heads held high as if they knew something the humans didn't- seemed oddly final. Zexion's expression didn't help, either. A cross between serious, anxious, and excited, the boy's face was nearly comical.
He couldn't help but fidget.
As the noise hit a high point, the catlike Hybrid leaned over to whisper into the taller boy's ear, voice low. "I figure you should know," he began, licking his lips to wet them as they suddenly went dry, "that this conference was what I had Peggy arrange three months ago." Demyx didn't dignify this with a response as his body went tight, then relaxed. "The location, the guest list; everything is under our control." The world melted away, then, as the blond thought back.
Arpeggio, poison shipments, surgical devices in Dr. Crescent's basement, and…
Xion stepped up to the stage, drawing Demyx's eyes. In her hands she held a plate of cookies.
…hollow bones?
"Why?" was all the boy requested. This only earned a strained laugh as Zexion looked upon the spectacle with him. The dark-haired Hybrid was walking right up to the Committee, offering them the cookies.
"Don't worry; the cookies are not poisoned," Zexion mused as the Committee declined, but his father took a confection and bit into it, nodding to the girl and thanking her before asking her something, though it couldn't be heard over the noise from the reporters. She was sweating. "That plan would be a bit rickety, don't you think? If a single member declined then we would be out of luck. Besides," he laughed, "the guards aren't going to stop a little 'human' girl from showing her thanks to the Committee. What we're doing is airborne."
Airborne.
Hollow bones.
Poison.
Xion.
People are going to die, today, Demyx thought.
Finger halting in its travels, the blond looked to the Hybrid in shock. "You're sweating," he stated quietly, moving from the current topic. Zexion didn't answer.
I might be one of them.
Silence fell over the room as a single Hybrid woman shouted for silence, standing from the rest of the crowd. Blonde hair gently fell to her shoulders, framing a stubborn face with shocking green eyes. She was beautiful in a human way, and the only thing that gave her away as a Hybrid were a pair of elongated fangs revealed by her sadistic grin and a peek of scales beneath her hair. Demyx couldn't see any of this, standing behind her, but he did recognize a raised arm that held aloft a radio switch and the fact that it was his sister.
Whether or not he recognized them in that order, he would never recount. As her finger descended on the trigger, Zexion pressed something into his face, fastening laces beneath his hair.
"Will I need this?" he asked seconds later, refusing to look at the stage as a solid crack rang through the air. His voice was muffled through the mask, and he could barely see Zexion, who held his copy of Nobodies as if it were a bible, through the eyeholes. It was bulky and grayish with a design he'd only seen in history books.
It was a gas mask.
"I don't know," the Hybrid replied, looking to the stage. Following the boy's gaze, Demyx watched as the reporter in the lawn chair fell to the ground coughing as an opaque, vibrant green mist enveloped the stage and began to make its way through the room. "It's never been tested with airborne Mako. There was no need; almost the entirety of the AVALANCHE crew is made up of Hybrids, and therefore we are immune. The rest are currently in secured buildings."
AVALANCHE.
They sat in silence as the entire crowd started to panic, running for the doors in their flight. "Shouldn't I run, then?" the blond shrugged, pointing to the nearest exit. This earned him a shake of the Hybrid's head.
"The doors are locked, and manual bombs are being placed throughout the city as we speak." He glanced over to the side, then, and Demyx followed his gaze. Kairi sat only a few seats away from them, crying. "The only reason we had to use Xion for the first bomb is because we couldn't get the Mako into this meeting any other way. It'll take a lot of surgery to get her back to normal." The mist was getting closer.
I might die, today.
Pressing his hands close together, Zexion kneeled in the space between his seat and the one in front of him. Mumbling under his breath, he began to pray. Looking down at the Hybrid, Demyx took a deep breath. He took the smaller boy into his arms, then, pressing him into the curve of his torso until they fit just right, as they always had. He was sweating in his clothes, and it finally occurred to him why Zexion had instructed he dress warm.
Something draped over the exposed back of his head, then, and he looked up to see a flash of red hair before it was gone.
He turned back to Zexion with a smile, then, content with the thought that he'd at least gotten Kairi's approval.
Sound escalated, and people were pounding on the doors even harder as the mist approached, promising what appeared to be death. Some stepped into the green fog, taking deep breaths and falling to the floor, while some threw the people grouping at the doors behind them in at attempt at self-preservation. Through all of this, Demyx and Zexion clung together, the Hybrid's gentle prayers lost in the noise of the room.
The mist arrived.
There was a foul taste of air, but beyond that there was no change in the blond's breathing. "It's okay," he whispered, making a movement to separate from the smaller boy.
"Don't," the Hybrid commanded, pulling him closer.
They stayed like that until the doors opened, hours later.
…
"Why is he alive?" The voice was sharp, spiteful, and horribly familiar to Demyx's ears. "I'll tell you why he's alive; he's alive because you had to go off and get attached. I specifically ordered you not to get carried away!" Marluxia's voice was rather hard to misplace, after all. "He doesn't even love you!"
"He does!" Zexion argued right back. "He's told me!"
Peering out of the glass eye-covers in the gas-mask, Demyx stared upon the sight before him with apprehension from his place behind his boyfriend. No doubt anything that flew from his mouth wouldn't be understood. Instead, he watched as people, Hybrids, crowded around. They breathed the neon-green fumes as if it were nothing more than Oxygen. The only assurance the human had was Zexion's hand wrapped in his.
"I did this for his own good."
"For his good or for Zack's?" Tension passed through the room at this comment. "I know, he was your brother, but what does that have to do with us?"
"He won't survive the new world- not with your sham of a relationship based on Mako addiction and his handicap of- of, what do they call it? Humanity?" He laughed. "Oh how the gods laugh."
Demyx's face twisted. "What's Mako addiction?" he whispered, forgetting that whatever he said might be twisted by the mask. Oddly enough, it came out loud and clear. Marluxia laughed, earning a scowl from the smaller Hybrid.
"Give it time, my Cloaked Schemer," he hissed. "He'll learn of you and this affection will turn to anger, disappointment, and hate."
"I learned of him," the boy replied simply, drawing the eyes of the crowd all at once as his voice caught. Clearing it, he faced the man with his head held high. "I learned of him and I still love him."
The man laughed at this, too. "Give it time" the man repeated, "and he'll be begging for death."
They left together, then, oddly enough, leading out of the doors and into freezing winter air. Demyx was loaded into the back of a jeep, which tossed him around like a rag doll, but allowed him a full view of a green, glowing city, already stained by the Mako. Dead bodies littered the ground: children, adults, teenagers- no one he recognized. To distract himself, he turned to Zexion, who held the book he'd given him what seemed like so long ago. Asking for the book, he tried to distract himself by reading, but the one time he looked up out of boredom he spied a familiar face.
Hayner lay limp in a snow bank, arms and legs unnaturally positioned, skateboard several feet away. There was no one around him, and his neck was twisted sideways in a way that implied it had been snapped. The snow about him was stained green from the airborne Mako, but where the boy's mouth was there was a trail of red that left the blond nauseous. He hadn't seen that coming; hadn't seen any of this coming.
Yes; at some point between leaving the conference room and arriving at a warehouse that would soon be turned into a lab, he figured out that the white of snow wouldn't return.
To be continued in Plain Sight.
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Character: Demyx
Genre: Sci-Fi/Romance
Rating: T / PG-13
Chapters: 7/7
Beta: Dystopian Hope
Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts rights belong to Square Enix and Disney. This piece of fiction is fan-made and as such I am making no monetary profits off of this.
Stepping lightly around a planter, Demyx slid down the hall away from his room and toward the elevator, Zexion in tow. It was nearing midnight, and upon the realization that Zexion's parents- or, rather, his mother- would be expecting him home or fear the worst the pair had quickly jumped into the shower and thrown some clothes on, lest their actions from the night be revealed to the world on a silver platter. Least to say, such an event would have been slightly mortifying. As it were, they couldn't seem to creep quiet enough for Demyx's nerves. Every other step drew a gentle, muffled pomp from their socked feet, nearly driving the blond insane with every nearly silent second.
Despite his paranoia the world dragged on around them, eerily quiet as if to sneer at his anxiety. When the pair finally got to the elevator the Hybrid let out a sigh of distress, only to tense up as the blond passed the machine entirely. "I thought we were taking the elevator," he commented as quietly as he could, pointing to the cold steel doors with one sneaker-wielding hand.
"Too loud," the older replied, his voice an even gentler whisper. "We'll take the stairs." Pointing to a door at the end of the hallway, he motioned for Zexion to follow as quickly as possible. The wood floors nearly made the boy slip as he hurried down the hall after his boyfriend, but when the Hybrid received a light kiss on the nose for his efforts he deemed the rush worth it.
Taking hold of the doorknob, Demyx eased the door open, wincing when it gave a long, loud creak. "We don't use the stairs, much."
"This house is five floors," the Hybrid mused. "I don't blame you."
Slipping their shoes on, the pair slipped onto the staircase, closing the door as softly as they could behind them. Not unlike a company's staircase, the walls were an off-white that screamed "trying too hard" with black numbers spray-painted at the top of every floor to designate which was which. The number before them read "3" in a very blocky, very generic font. Carpets of an off-white that was no more than a single shade lighter than the walls, if not the shade itself, shielded what was obviously concrete from view, leaving one with the impression that they were standing in animal remains.
"Mom never got around to redesigning these," Demyx noted. This observation was shortly followed with a wince as his voice seemed to bounce from every wall twice before finally reaching their ears. It came accompanied with a light ring that signified that the guard-rail was vibrating from the noise.
Zexion rolled his eyes. "No talking," he whispered as near the older boy's ear as he could reach, standing on tip-toe so much as to come up to Demyx's ear-lobe. The blond laughed, pulling the Hybrid into his arms and sweeping him into a kiss that left both their heads spinning by the time he moved away.
"Got it," the boy gasped, leaning his head against the Hybrids before placing his boyfriend back onto the floor and making his way downstairs. When Zexion made no move to follow he gave a gentle chuckle.
Shortly after the Hybrid found himself being carried piggy-back- though he couldn't bring himself to mind. Soon, they were on the first floor, opening the door to reveal the magnificent foyer. The prominent clip, clop of Demyx's shoes could be heard from any corner of the room, though the blond didn't worry as he didn't see a soul in sight.
"Demyx," someone announced from off to the side. "I wasn't aware you had a guest." Two pairs of eyes shot over to the source of the voice, taking in the figure of Mr. Atkin-Downes and he stood in the kitchen doorway wielding none-other than a pint of lemon-meringue ice-cream, a smug expression, and a spoon. "Please; join me for a refrigerator raid," he offered, motioning towards the kitchen with the hand wielding the spoon, his accent leaving the two slightly befuddled. "I do believe the Orange Sherbet is about to expire."
Demyx jumped at this. "I'm in," he announced quickly. "I didn't know we had ice-cream…"
"I didn't either," the man admitted with a scoff. "They're your mother's." He turned to Zexion. "You in?"
He paused, torn between their trip home and the sugary treat. "Is there possibly any lime?"
The man laughed good heartedly. "I'll see what I can do," he replied honestly, motioning for them to follow him into the kitchen. Demyx padded after his father, sporting a grin.
"Think I could drive you back in the morning?" he suggested, allowing the boy to slip to the floor as they reached the kitchen island, which already sported a spoon and a pint of Orange Sherbet, which Demyx nearly attacked. A bleached white mahogany hardwood clacked beneath the smaller boy's feet as he made contact, moving soon to take a seat at one of the white leather barstools that lined the white marble island. All around the room everything was a vibrant white. Thought it reminded the Hybrid of a hospital he couldn't bring himself to think of the room as one. Something about it simply breathed that it was home. "We could call; leave a message." Sliding the top from the icy treat, he spooned a large portion into his mouth with a squeal of excitement that nearly had the younger boy chuckling.
After Zexion got over this urge, he shrugged, adjusting his position so that he wasn't half hanging off the chair as he watched Luxord rifle through the freezer. "Sounds good," he admitted, eyeing the boy as he shoveled ice-cream into his mouth.
"Aha!" Mr. Atkin-Downes exclaimed happily, tugging a small pint-sized container from the freezer with exuberance. "You know, his mother hoards this stuff in the back of the freezer- been doing it for years- and forgets about it. Naturally," he announced grandly, "someone has to dispose of it!" Dropping the pint on the counter, which was indeed Key Lime, along with a spoon, he watched Zexion for a response.
A small smile, miniscule in width, was all the man received as the boy politely removed the top and scraped the treat into the spoon. Then, placing the spoon upside-down onto his tongue, he licked it clean before returning the utensil for another scrape. A comfortable silence ensued as the man finally retrieved his own pint and dug in. For a long period of time only the bonk of the bouncing of cardboard on marble could be held every time they dug in, and the occasionally non-soundless scrape made by Zexion were the only sounds that could break the relaxing monotone.
"You know," the man remarked a good amount of time later, finishing a glob of his Lemon Meringue, "I was invited to host the Q and A session this weekend. I have some box seats for you and your boyfriend since Naminé doesn't want to go." Zexion sputtered, but this was not heard over the deafening silence that followed this comment.
"They're going to ask you to be Governor again, aren't they?" It wasn't a question; not with the way poison dripped from the words.
"I can make a difference this way-"
"Not with Ansem and Xehanort on the Committee-"
"There are ways around him."
"Yeah; like getting outside a circle!"
"There are ways of getting outside!"
"This is just another way to stay inside the stupid-"
"I'm going to accept." The moment was charged, violent, and Zexion very nearly looked away from the spectacle of the two fighting. Luxord turned to the Hybrid, then, looking a bit ashamed. "Sorry about this," he amended, looking the part. "It's just that my son and I have never seen eye to eye."
Demyx scoffed. "Doesn't really make sense, though; we're the same height."
"That comment was not appreciated," the man snapped, turning a sharp eye to his son.
Cowering a bit before his father's gaze, Demyx turned his eyes to the floor. "Sorry." Jumping from the island, Zexion turned to the door. Shocked, the blond's watched him make his way to the exit. "Where are you going?"
"Home," the Hybrid replied, ear flicking lightly at the word. "There's something I have to do."
"Can it wait?" the older boy asked, drawing a confused expression from his father. Zexion stared up at him, then, looking him straight in the eye. There was something in that gaze that clicked with Demyx, then. "I'll drive you," he volunteered. "Thanks for the ice-cream, Dad." With that thrown over his shoulder, he hurried his boyfriend out the door before his father could make any more comments.
…
Midnight had fallen upon Zexion's suburb just as it did with any other that night: with little clamor, the streets deathly silent, barren of any cars or pedestrians. A thick layer of snow sat heavily upon the roads and roofs, leaving the world muffled in its own blanket of white. The tires of Demyx's truck left gray-brown lines on the road beneath them where it compressed the layers into a sheet of ice. Through the quiet two boys held hands in the confines of the older one's truck, breathing mist into the air before them as they swirled patterns onto one another's palms.
The tension from the kitchen had not been forgotten, but had, instead, been pushed aside for the time being to allow for the comfortable moment of nearness they had been allowed. Glancing at the clock, Demyx read that it was nearing one in the morning. He cleared his throat, earning Zexion's eyes. "Winter break's over in three days," he commented lightly. "Think I could spend the night- or, umm, morning- at your place?" The implication was not lost on Zexion as they pulled up before his house.
Leaning forward, the two boys met in a tender kiss, their cold-chapped lips slowly brushing against the others'. A trill of pleasure traveled the length of the Hybrid's spine, calling to his mind their actions not five hours hence. He allowed a grin to grace his lips as the promise of ecstasy tainted his thoughts. Pulling away, though, he bit his lip. "I can't," he groaned in answer. "I wish I could, really," he amended as Demyx looked to the floor in embarrassment. "It's just that I have to do something tonight. Work." When the older boy didn't look up from his feet, Zexion slid his forefinger along the length of his chin, guiding their faces together for a warm, wet kiss that left them trembling. When they finally came apart, the Hybrid rested his head against his boyfriend's. "You were amazing last night," he gasped, staring right into the boy's eyes. "It's just that I have things to do, and if you're around I'll never get them done."
The implication was not lost on the blond. "I love you," he whispered, pecking the younger boy's lips as the Hybrid whispered the words right back. Another warm kiss later and the boy left, leaving Demyx alone in the car to watch him go in, clenching his hands against the steering wheel in an attempt to stop a fit of violent shaking.
Snow crunching beneath, and into, the Hybrid's sneakers, the younger boy slowly made his way up to his front porch, blissfully unaware of his boyfriend's distress. By the time he focused on his surroundings rather than the pleasant throbbing in his lips he was already in his room, unpacking the contents of his bag. Snow was beginning to fall outside once more, and he whispered a quiet prayer to Zalera to wish Demyx a safe ride home. Once that was done, he rifled through his bag, searching through the contents before tugging out his computer, Lexaeus. Grinning, he flipped the pocket-computer open.
"Power on," he commanded, waiting eagerly for the screen to flicker to life and reveal the improvements Arpeggio had made to the software. When nothing happened, the boy simply stared at the screen. "Power on," he directed again with no fruits to show for his effort. Blinking, he sat for a moment in his perplexity. "Lexaeus?"
"Present," a deep voice responded from the small speakers. The screen burst to life, revealing to the boy an icon of a heavily-muscled man with orange hair swooping back from his face. Beady eyes stared out at Zexion, leaving him slightly uncomfortable. "You have one message," the man stated, leaving Zexion's mind jumbled.
"A message?"
"Would you like to read it?"
Silence.
"Umm… sure?"
Tabs opened at the bottom of the screen at a rate that the Hybrid couldn't follow. "Harmonious welcomes, Zexion," the sarcastic voice of Arpeggio greeted the boy. "Well, everything's voice-activated, now. Just make sure to call Lexy 'Lexicon' when using him and stuff, okay? Open tabs by your touch screen," the tabs at the bottom flashed, "or by telling Lexy what to open. That's about it. Good day." Zexion sighed.
"She really doesn't like me."
"Who?" Looking to Lexaeus in shock, Zexion shook his head.
"It's nothing. Um…" He trailed off. "Lexicon?"
"Yes?" He was already aware of the nickname, it seemed.
"Could you do a search for the blueprints of a gas mask?"
"Right away." Compared to Arpeggio, Lexaeus was very… monotone. The job still got done, though, as within seconds he was presented with a page on the design of gas-masks, bringing him from his observations.
Zexion blinked. "Would this work for heavy gases?" A knock at his door tore him from the screen. Jumping, he looked to the entrance of his room, only to find the door already wide open and his mother standing there, back tall, tail calm at her side. "Mom," he greeted with a smile.
"Thanks for calling," she quipped with good nature.
Wincing, Zexion graced her with an apologetic grimace. "Sorry," he managed, looking down at her feet. As he did this he missed the transformation in her face from sarcasm to a serious mask of indifference.
"You were told not to get attached."
Wincing again, the boy didn't look up as he responded. "I know."
The woman glanced at the screen, then, and she sighed heavily. "For your sake, I hope that works."
Long after she had left, Zexion stared at the blueprints. They were ancient; long passed their time, they were bulky and wouldn't do for the heavier compounds they would be encountering not soon after. Setting to work, the Hybrid bent over his desk, making sketches and outlining wire-mechanisms.
…
The world was falling apart around him, Demyx found. Photos lined the walls around him, but he could find no meaning to them. Reaching for the paper, cigarette in hand, the blond ripped them down, throwing them into a cardboard box he'd grabbed from downstairs. Something was different about the boy: his eyes weren't quite focused, and he didn't bother with doing the job neatly. Some photos fell to the floor.
Eventually, to get to the pictures higher up he grabbed a ladder, and his steps were heavy, leaving the tool to wobble ominously with each step. He fell multiple times, but nothing seemed to break him from the stupor. A fog enveloped his brain, and there wasn't anything in him shouting at the boy to stop. Although a voice might have been in his subconscious for him to put them back up, he continued on, intent on removing the catalog of his life from the immediate space around him. There were no more reminders of mistakes, first kisses, or old friendships gone wrong.
Bringing the box out into the back yard, he flicked the cigarette atop the pile and watched his memories burn.
…
Knocking on the glass of the gatekeeper's room, Zexion watched in amusement as old Maurice startled awake, snorting and snuffling before giving a great sneeze that fogged up the window. The Hybrid laughed, bending forward to speak into the microphone, before pausing to adjust the package under his arm. "Good morning, Maurice."
"Doggarn it!" the man exclaimed, attempting to disentangle himself with his over-coat, which had somehow managed to envelope his arms and flip several times to resemble a knot. "This stupid thing- I-I'll be with you in a second!" he stuttered, hands reaching awkwardly about the coat. "I just need to- ah!" With the pull of a drawstring he was released from the coat's vice-grip and could look directly at the fog on the glass, which had remained since he'd sneezed on it. Zexion watched on with amusement as the man reached beneath his desk to retrieve a squirt bottle and a rag, which he used to clean off the glass. "I assume you want in?" the man presumed upon getting a good look at the boy.
"Yes; that would be nice," he replied, attempting to ignore the way his clothes were beginning to freeze to his body.
The man chuckled. "I'll call a car down." Minutes later, the Hybrid said his goodbyes to the man and made his way into the retrieval car- which was not a Porsche- at the insistence of a driver who obviously didn't want to jump from the car for a Hybrid. Before long, he was before the blond's large, intimidating house, which he usually walked right into without blinking. However, the scent of burning spun in his nostrils, spiking acid into his brain as the smell pierced through him. Wincing, he looked around for the source, only to find nothing. Glancing down at the package in his gloves, he raced around the building, intent on discovering whatever was the source of what smelled like photo paper and cigarettes; the two things he'd been associating Demyx with as of late.
His efforts were soon rewarded when he turned the corner around the house. There Demyx was, staring at a box of photos as they burned. Fire licked just outside the cardboard, but didn't go any further than that. They reached for the sky, asking for more fuel; more things to consume; anything. Instead, they got a stoney, lack-luster stare. When a flame licked a bit too close to his boyfriend, Zexion lunged, turning Demyx away from the flames, only to be met with a gaze as blank as paper. Flinching, the Hybrid stared deep into the boy's blank eyes.
"This is my fault," he whispered, biting his lip as the blond didn't respond. When he tried to take off a glove he was shocked to find that it had already adhered to his hand, the ice forming a seal around his knuckles and wrist. Hissing a curse, he tugged harder, only to come away unsuccessful. He heaved a groan, looked up at the boy in anger. "Why the hell did you go and get this bad on me before I could get you into the lab or something?" His bad language shocked even himself, but the boy simply ignored it, going back to tugging even harder at the glove.
No go, but the fire had settled and was now nothing more than cinders.
Nothing remained.
He paused, then, glancing up at the older boy before focusing on the glove. "'Like when you get your tongue stuck to a flagpole,' right?" he chuckled, giving himself a moment to savor the utter irony of the moment before bringing his glove to his mouth. Focusing his breath into a thin stream, he blew into the seam between his wrist and the glove. When the fabric was finally free, he sighed. "I'm just causing you all sorts of trouble, aren't I?" With that, his hand slid into Demyx's, and he watched the boy's eyes come to life.
The blond looked to him with expectancy. "What just happened?" he deadpanned.
"I'll tell you later," the Hybrid replied, tugging him towards to house. "Right now we have a meeting to attend."
…
The room had been packed to overflowing, most of which being populated by humans. An occasional Hybrid could be seen filling in the few gaps in the crowd, drawing Demyx's eyes from where they had originally rested; on the stage, where his father stood appraising the group and, behind him, the Exceptions Committee board sat. Through it all there was a small comfort in the back of his head and through his body. Gone forever were the shakes, the cigarettes. Instead, his fingers lightly traced to lines in Zexion's left hand, loosely held in his beneath their seats.
Reporters were still milling about in the front row, lining the pedestal with their bodies in at attempt to get the best seat for the conference. Company names were spouted at rates that nearly had Demyx reeling, but he kept this to himself.
One reporter, to Demyx's chagrin, simply pulled out a lawn chair and placed it directly in front of his father before seating themselves in it, completely invisible to the arguing gaggle of columnists despite the fact that they were nearly five feet closer to the stage than anyone else. Tracing nervous fingers along his boyfriend's palm, the blond looked about. Something about how the Hybrids were acting- or holding themselves, really, with their heads held high as if they knew something the humans didn't- seemed oddly final. Zexion's expression didn't help, either. A cross between serious, anxious, and excited, the boy's face was nearly comical.
He couldn't help but fidget.
As the noise hit a high point, the catlike Hybrid leaned over to whisper into the taller boy's ear, voice low. "I figure you should know," he began, licking his lips to wet them as they suddenly went dry, "that this conference was what I had Peggy arrange three months ago." Demyx didn't dignify this with a response as his body went tight, then relaxed. "The location, the guest list; everything is under our control." The world melted away, then, as the blond thought back.
Arpeggio, poison shipments, surgical devices in Dr. Crescent's basement, and…
Xion stepped up to the stage, drawing Demyx's eyes. In her hands she held a plate of cookies.
…hollow bones?
"Why?" was all the boy requested. This only earned a strained laugh as Zexion looked upon the spectacle with him. The dark-haired Hybrid was walking right up to the Committee, offering them the cookies.
"Don't worry; the cookies are not poisoned," Zexion mused as the Committee declined, but his father took a confection and bit into it, nodding to the girl and thanking her before asking her something, though it couldn't be heard over the noise from the reporters. She was sweating. "That plan would be a bit rickety, don't you think? If a single member declined then we would be out of luck. Besides," he laughed, "the guards aren't going to stop a little 'human' girl from showing her thanks to the Committee. What we're doing is airborne."
Airborne.
Hollow bones.
Poison.
Xion.
People are going to die, today, Demyx thought.
Finger halting in its travels, the blond looked to the Hybrid in shock. "You're sweating," he stated quietly, moving from the current topic. Zexion didn't answer.
I might be one of them.
Silence fell over the room as a single Hybrid woman shouted for silence, standing from the rest of the crowd. Blonde hair gently fell to her shoulders, framing a stubborn face with shocking green eyes. She was beautiful in a human way, and the only thing that gave her away as a Hybrid were a pair of elongated fangs revealed by her sadistic grin and a peek of scales beneath her hair. Demyx couldn't see any of this, standing behind her, but he did recognize a raised arm that held aloft a radio switch and the fact that it was his sister.
Whether or not he recognized them in that order, he would never recount. As her finger descended on the trigger, Zexion pressed something into his face, fastening laces beneath his hair.
"Will I need this?" he asked seconds later, refusing to look at the stage as a solid crack rang through the air. His voice was muffled through the mask, and he could barely see Zexion, who held his copy of Nobodies as if it were a bible, through the eyeholes. It was bulky and grayish with a design he'd only seen in history books.
It was a gas mask.
"I don't know," the Hybrid replied, looking to the stage. Following the boy's gaze, Demyx watched as the reporter in the lawn chair fell to the ground coughing as an opaque, vibrant green mist enveloped the stage and began to make its way through the room. "It's never been tested with airborne Mako. There was no need; almost the entirety of the AVALANCHE crew is made up of Hybrids, and therefore we are immune. The rest are currently in secured buildings."
AVALANCHE.
They sat in silence as the entire crowd started to panic, running for the doors in their flight. "Shouldn't I run, then?" the blond shrugged, pointing to the nearest exit. This earned him a shake of the Hybrid's head.
"The doors are locked, and manual bombs are being placed throughout the city as we speak." He glanced over to the side, then, and Demyx followed his gaze. Kairi sat only a few seats away from them, crying. "The only reason we had to use Xion for the first bomb is because we couldn't get the Mako into this meeting any other way. It'll take a lot of surgery to get her back to normal." The mist was getting closer.
I might die, today.
Pressing his hands close together, Zexion kneeled in the space between his seat and the one in front of him. Mumbling under his breath, he began to pray. Looking down at the Hybrid, Demyx took a deep breath. He took the smaller boy into his arms, then, pressing him into the curve of his torso until they fit just right, as they always had. He was sweating in his clothes, and it finally occurred to him why Zexion had instructed he dress warm.
Something draped over the exposed back of his head, then, and he looked up to see a flash of red hair before it was gone.
He turned back to Zexion with a smile, then, content with the thought that he'd at least gotten Kairi's approval.
Sound escalated, and people were pounding on the doors even harder as the mist approached, promising what appeared to be death. Some stepped into the green fog, taking deep breaths and falling to the floor, while some threw the people grouping at the doors behind them in at attempt at self-preservation. Through all of this, Demyx and Zexion clung together, the Hybrid's gentle prayers lost in the noise of the room.
The mist arrived.
There was a foul taste of air, but beyond that there was no change in the blond's breathing. "It's okay," he whispered, making a movement to separate from the smaller boy.
"Don't," the Hybrid commanded, pulling him closer.
They stayed like that until the doors opened, hours later.
…
"Why is he alive?" The voice was sharp, spiteful, and horribly familiar to Demyx's ears. "I'll tell you why he's alive; he's alive because you had to go off and get attached. I specifically ordered you not to get carried away!" Marluxia's voice was rather hard to misplace, after all. "He doesn't even love you!"
"He does!" Zexion argued right back. "He's told me!"
Peering out of the glass eye-covers in the gas-mask, Demyx stared upon the sight before him with apprehension from his place behind his boyfriend. No doubt anything that flew from his mouth wouldn't be understood. Instead, he watched as people, Hybrids, crowded around. They breathed the neon-green fumes as if it were nothing more than Oxygen. The only assurance the human had was Zexion's hand wrapped in his.
"I did this for his own good."
"For his good or for Zack's?" Tension passed through the room at this comment. "I know, he was your brother, but what does that have to do with us?"
"He won't survive the new world- not with your sham of a relationship based on Mako addiction and his handicap of- of, what do they call it? Humanity?" He laughed. "Oh how the gods laugh."
Demyx's face twisted. "What's Mako addiction?" he whispered, forgetting that whatever he said might be twisted by the mask. Oddly enough, it came out loud and clear. Marluxia laughed, earning a scowl from the smaller Hybrid.
"Give it time, my Cloaked Schemer," he hissed. "He'll learn of you and this affection will turn to anger, disappointment, and hate."
"I learned of him," the boy replied simply, drawing the eyes of the crowd all at once as his voice caught. Clearing it, he faced the man with his head held high. "I learned of him and I still love him."
The man laughed at this, too. "Give it time" the man repeated, "and he'll be begging for death."
They left together, then, oddly enough, leading out of the doors and into freezing winter air. Demyx was loaded into the back of a jeep, which tossed him around like a rag doll, but allowed him a full view of a green, glowing city, already stained by the Mako. Dead bodies littered the ground: children, adults, teenagers- no one he recognized. To distract himself, he turned to Zexion, who held the book he'd given him what seemed like so long ago. Asking for the book, he tried to distract himself by reading, but the one time he looked up out of boredom he spied a familiar face.
Hayner lay limp in a snow bank, arms and legs unnaturally positioned, skateboard several feet away. There was no one around him, and his neck was twisted sideways in a way that implied it had been snapped. The snow about him was stained green from the airborne Mako, but where the boy's mouth was there was a trail of red that left the blond nauseous. He hadn't seen that coming; hadn't seen any of this coming.
Yes; at some point between leaving the conference room and arriving at a warehouse that would soon be turned into a lab, he figured out that the white of snow wouldn't return.
To be continued in Plain Sight.