Flutter
Title: Flutter
Author: villanelle_koi
Pairing: Zexion/Demyx
Rating: PG
Summary: A brush of wings on a soft palm, a brush of lips on a soft cheek. That was all they ever had to give.
Flutter
"It'll be nice, Zexion," his mother had told him. "You'll get to meet other kids, play with them. You'll have a great time."
Personally, Zexion doubted that day care was going to be that fun. Besides, he liked being left alone. Other kids would just be annoying and interrupt him when he was trying to read. Still, his mother was very busy, and he knew it was unavoidable, so he might as well accept it.
That didn't mean he had to like it.
The people who worked at the day care - "counselors", they were called, but preferred to be known on a first-name basis - had been trying to get him out of his shell and socializing with the other children, with little success. They'd been able to put him outside on the school field and playground, but he just sat in some corner with his book. Try to take the book away and he would pitch an unholy fit until he got it back. Nothing would get him to play with the other children.
Today they hadn't even bothered to make him go outside. Zexion liked that; it was nice and quiet in the building with all the other kids off playing, and it was cool and there weren't any insects to bother him. Perfect for reading.
At least it was until another boy gamboled in, laughing brightly as he stumbled over to the nurse awkwardly. Zexion looked up with a pout; The Hobbit had just been starting to get good.
The nurse saw the boy and let out a frustrated sigh. "Again, Demyx?"
"Yep!" the boy replied brightly, sitting down in the chair across from her.
"You've got to be more careful," she scolded, getting out a pair of big bandages, cotton swabs, and rubbing alcohol. Zexion noticed for the first time that both of the boy's knees were badly skinned, bright red welling up in the scrapes.
"'M sorry, Kairi - ouch!" the boy yelped as she started cleaning the wounds with the alcohol.
She huffed slightly, finishing up and pasting the large band-aid on. "Every day you do this, Demyx. You're a walking disaster, I swear. Go on, go play."
"Thank you, Kairi!" The boy hopped off the seat and made for the door. Then he noticed Zexion, stopped, and walked over to him.
Zexion buried his nose in his book, attempting to ignore the boy so he'd go away. Apparently it didn't work, because that bright voice said, "Hello! I'm Demyx! What's your name?"
"That's Zexion, honey," Kairi called. "I think he's trying to read, why don't you leave him alone and go play?"
Demyx made a face. "Reading? That's boring."
Zexion's head snapped up with a scowl. "It is not," he growled. "Better'n rotting your brain with stupid TV."
"Boys, settle down," Kairi warned.
Demyx shrugged. "I don't watch TV much. Mama says it's bad for you."
"Well . . . . good," Zexion huffed, bringing up the book to his face again.
Ocean eyes peeked over the top of the book. "You sure you don't wanna come out to play? It's a reeeeaaaaaally nice day."
"Positive," Zexion replied.
Demyx pouted, then shrugged. "Okay, then. I'll see you later, Zexy!" he laughed, bounding out the door.
Zexion didn't answer, focusing on his book as much as he could instead. A few minutes later, when he was sure nobody could hear, he muttered, "It's Zexion."
-That night, Zexion's mother asked him if anything new had happened at day care. Zexion told her no, it had been just another boring day.-
"Hey, Zexy!"
Zexion looked up from his book with a small frown, opening his mouth to refute the nickname, and was greeted by the sight of the same boy from a few days ago. "What d'you want?"
"You are Zexion, right?" Demyx grinned. "Sorry, my memory's all bad. I got it right, then?"
"No," Zexion muttered resentfully. "My name's Zexion. Not Zexy."
Demyx pouted. "Well sorry, Princess Zexion."
"Don't call me princess," Zexion growled. "And you didn't answer my question."
"Question?" Demyx cocked his head to the side, looking utterly confused. "What question?"
"What. Do. You. Want?" Zexion gritted out.
Demyx smiled, understanding dawning in his expression. "Oh, right! I wanted to ask if you'd like to come play."
"No."
"Why nooooot?" Demyx whined.
"Because I don't wanna."
"But you're out here today!"
"Only 'cause they made me."
Demyx sighed, a small pout on his lips."You're no fun at all," he muttered. Then he brightened again with a small shrug. "Well, if you wanna play later, then we can do that! See ya - Princess Zexion!"
Zexion stuttered after him in rage, but Demyx was already gone, laughing and gamboling across the weedy grass field. Zexion watched him for a while, running and cartwheeling and bright, so bright, so alive.
He looked back down to his book and kept reading.
-That night, Zexion offhandedly mentioned the boy from day care when his mother asked him how his day had been. He assured her quickly that he was a complete weirdo and not worth hanging out with.-
"What're you doing now, Demyx?"
"Shhh, I'm -" Demyx suddenly sat back on his haunches with a mournful expression. "Shoot! He got away. Now look what you did, Zexy."
Zexion blinked. He'd stopped correcting the nickname a while ago. Better than getting called "Princess Zexion". "What exactly did I do?"
"You scared him off," Demyx muttered resentfully, pouting as he scrambled over to where Zexion was sitting with his ever-present book.
Zexion looked up at Demyx, closing the book. "Who's 'he'?"
"A skipper," Demyx responded, as if that should explain everything.
Zexion sighed. He'd come to accept Demyx in the past few weeks - certainly nothing seemed to shake him off for long, so trying didn't do much good - but sometimes he could be . . . . trying. "What's a skipper?"
Demyx stared at him incredulously. "You don't know what a skipper is?"
"No," Zexion muttered sullenly.
"I thought you were supposed to be smart, Zexy!" Demyx crowed triumphantly.
Zexion huffed. "Sure, just 'cause I don't know your stupid names for things . . . ."
Demyx opened his mouth, then stopped. "Aw, don't be mad, Zexy . . . ." he murmured after a few moments. "'M sorry. I just thought it was kinda funny, that's all. Skippers are those little mini butterflies, you know, the ones we see all the time here."
Zexion folded his arms and looked away, pouting.
Demyx let out a little whine and scooted closer, resting his head on Zexion's lap. "I'm sorry, Zexy. I didn't mean it. Please don't be mad . . . ."
Zexion was silent for a moment. Then he muttered, "Doesn't matter to me, I don't care anyway." His hands tangled gently in the other boy's soft blond locks, and a faint blush covered his cheeks as he looked pointedly away from Demyx.
-That night, Zexion told his mother about the butterflies called skippers that he'd learned about today. They were boring anyway, he added, but at least he'd learned something new.-
"Mm! This is really good!"
Zexion flushed slightly, ducking his head a little. "It's not much," he muttered.
Demyx smiled. "Aw, but it really is, Zexy. And it's really nice that you shared your lunch with me today, just 'cause I forgot mine."
Zexion shrugged. "Don't mention it." Sure, he'd given up the last of his mom's homemade brownies, but the look on Demyx's face had been worth it. So worth it.
Demyx was quiet for a moment. Then he murmured, "You're my best friend. You know that, right?"
Zexion blinked. He hadn't, actually . . . . sure, Demyx seemed to like him a lot, but Demyx liked everyone. He didn't know that Demyx thought he was anything special.
"Zexy?" Demyx asked nervously. Zexion realized he hadn't said anything.
"Yeah . . . . yeah." He smiled. "You're my best friend, too."
Demyx grinned brightly, the last brownie left forgotten on his plate as he tackled Zexion in an enthusiastic hug.
"Dem - Demyx - gerroff!" Zexion choked out, shoving Demyx off of him.
Demyx pouted. "But we're best friends! Right?"
Zexion sighed, then promptly changed the subject.
-That night, Zexion asked his mother to teach him how to cook. When she asked him why, Zexion looked away and muttered something about lunchtime with a blush on his cheeks.-
"I don't see what's so good about those stupid butterflies," Zexion muttered.
"Huh?" Demyx looked away from the exploits the other children were getting into at the moment. "What d'you mean?"
"They're just insects," Zexion grumbled. "But every day, everybody's always out trying to catch them. I mean, that's just stupid."
"It is not!" Demyx protested. "It's a lot of fun!"
"Uh-huh," Zexion replied in tones of disbelief. "Running around after a bunch of girly butterflies is fun."
Demyx's mouth set itself into a stubborn pout. "C'mon, Zex. Have you ever tried it?"
Zexion snorted derisively. "No."
"Then of course you don't get it!" Demyx crowed truimphantly. "You gotta know what it's like first!"
"Nuh-uh. I'm not wasting my time." Zexion folded his arms.
"C'mon, Zexy! Pleeease?"
"No."
Demyx huffed. "Fine, I get it. You're just a scaredy-cat."
"What?" Zexion snapped. "Why am I being a scaredy-cat?"
"You're just scared that you'll suck at it." Demyx stuck his tongue out.
"Nuh-uh!"
"Then prove it!"
"....Fine!" Zexion slammed his book onto the seat and jumped up, stomping over to the school field, Demyx drifting along behind him and grinning to himself.
Pause. Glance. "Um. How do I do it?"
Demyx smiled. "Not too hard. C'mon, I'll show you . . . . let's go get an arts and crafts bin. And some construction paper, too."
-That night, Zexion babbled proudly to his mother about how he'd learned to catch the little butterflies in his school field. She smiled indulgently and listened, glad to see her baby boy so happy.-
"No, no, don't eat it like that!"
Zexion paused from where he was about to take a bite out of his Oreo. "Why not?"
"Be-cause." Demyx scooted over, another Oreo in hand. "You have to do it like this." He took one side of the cookie in each hand, twisting slightly and pulling them apart carefully.
Zexion blinked. "Why do I hve to do it like that?"
"Because. Look at this." Demyx held out the two halves of the cookie for inspection. "See how most of the cream's on one side? If you get all of it on one side, it means good luck! You can make a wish!"
".....Really?" Zexion looked down to his still-uneaten Oreo. A wish . . . .
"Go on, try it!" Demyx said eagerly.
Zexion frowned over at his friend, then looked down at his Oreo again. He took a deep breath and started pulling the two halves apart.
"Did you get it?" Demyx piped up beside him.
"N-no . . . ." Zexion showed the blond the halves of his Oreo, one with most of the cream on it, the other with just a little bit.
"Aww. Well, maybe next time you will!" Demyx told him blithely, starting to lick at the cream on his own cookie.
Zexion looked down again and started eating his own cookie. And, because it couldn't hurt, he made a wish anyway.
I wish we could be best friends forever.
"So, Zexy," Demyx said.
"Huh?" Zexion perked up as he finished his Oreo.
"You wanna try catching a fiery skipper today?"
"What d'you mean?"
"You've been catching fairy skippers, those're the blue ones with white spots. They're really easy. Fiery skippers, those orange-brown ones, are much harder . . . ."
-That night, Zexion told his mother about the different kinds of skippers in his school field with a smile. When she asked where he'd learned all that, he replied "From my friend . . . . Demyx."-
Zexion tensed. Waited. Slowly, ever so carefully, he crawled forward, jar in one hand, paper in the other, and -
"You still catch 'em with jars?" someone declared behind him in tones of derision.
Zexion jumped, the jar slipping from his grip and landing in the grass with a soft thud. Immediately the fiery skipper took off, flitting away; and he'd been so close, too. Zexion slumped dejectedly, then glared over at the one who'd spoken. "What d'you want, Axel?"
The redhead shrugged, grinning. "Just think it's funny that you're such an amateur you have to use jars."
"What, you don't?" Zexion demanded irritably.
Axel's grin widened. "Nope! I catch 'em with my hands. 'Cause I'm not a loser," he added.
Zexion gritted his teeth. "I'm not a -"
"Axel, stop being mean," Demyx's voice broke in. "Zexy's my friend."
"Someone cool like you shouldn't hang out with someone lame like him," Axel replied, turning to the other boy.
"Zexy isn't lame," Demyx huffed. "He's a lot cooler'n you, you . . . . dumb-butt!"
"He is not," Axel protested, ignoring Zexion's quietly triumphant smirk at Demyx's statement. He folded his arms with a pout. "Well, fine. You're both losers. And I don't hang out with losers." And with that, he turned and stomped off.
Demyx turned to Zexion, smiling. "'m sorry about Axel . . . . he's really cool when you get to know him."
Zexion pouted, looking away. "He's always picking on me," he muttered. Then he looked back at Demyx with a blink. "What're you holding?"
"Hm?" Demyx followed Zexion's gaze down to where his hands were loosely clasped together. "Ohh! Right! Here, I'll show you." He carefully opened his hands, revealing a fairy skipper.
As Zexion watched, it fluttered its wings uncertainly, then took off. He followed its flight with his eyes for a moment, then looked back at Demyx in amazement. "You can catch them with your bare hands, too?"
"Of course! I taught Axel everything he knows." Demyx grinned. "Someday, I'll even catch a fiery skipper like that . . . . no one's been able to yet."
Zexion slumped dejectedly for a moment. Then he looked back up at Demyx. "Dem?"
"Hm?"
"Teach me how to do that?"
"You sure? It's a lot harder . . . ."
Zexion nodded firmly.
Demyx smiled, grabbing his hand and leading him out to the field. "Well, then, let's go!"
-That night, Zexion proudly told his mother about his best friend, who was so cool that he could catch skippers with his bare hands.-
"Are you okay, Dem?"
"Fine." Tap. Tap. "Why?"
"I dunno, you just seem kinda . . . . down lately." Zexion frowned down into his lap.
Tap. Tap.
Zexion fidgeted. "Dem," he muttered atlast, his cheeks pink with embarrassment. "Can't I try?"
"Maybe later." Tap. Tap.
"I'm bored."
"Mm-hm. That's nice." Tap. Tap.
Zexion chewed on his bottom lip. "You don't . . . . wanna hang out with me?"
Tap. Ta-
Zexion looked up to find his friend staring at him with hurt-filled eyes. "You think I don't wanna hang out with you anymore?"
"I . . . . ah . . . ." Zexion looked away, a light blush dusting his cheeks. "'Course I don't," he muttered. Anything to take that look off his friend's face.
Demyx's Gameboy clattered to the floor, and Zexion vaguely noticed the words GAME OVER flashing on the screen before the blond's arms wrapped around him in a warm hug. "You're my best friend, Zexy," the other boy murmured. "My best friend. 'm sorry. Please don't be mad . . . ."
Zexion's blush deepened, but he finally managed to mumble, "Stop being such a girl, Dem."
The other boy pulled back, grinning. "C'mon, let's go make paper Gameboys!"
"Wh-why?" Zexion asked, bewildered.
"So we can play together, duh!" Demyx replied, as though this should be obvious.
"But Dem -"
"C'mon, Zexy! We're best friends, right?"
Zexion groaned internally. Demyx would have to play that card, wouldn't he . . . . His eyes softened, and he nodded with a smile. "Yeah. We are."
Demyx grinned, poking his nose. "Now who's being a girl?" And he skipped off merrily, ignoring Zexion's indignant splutters behind him.
-That night, Zexion proudly showed off the paper Gameboy he'd made in daycare that day. When his mother asked if that defeated the purpose, he replied "Of course not," and that was that.-
"Zexion, why are you sitting here all by yourself? Aren't you going to go play with Demyx?"
Zexion huffed, turning a page in his book. "He doesn't want to play with me."
Kairi looked concerned, and sat down by Zexion. "Did something happen between the two of you?"
"No," Zexion snapped. "He's just being dumb."
"Zexion. Demyx is your friend, you shouldn't call him things like that," Kairi admonished. Then she sighed. "Maybe he's upset about the move."
"M . . . . move?" Zexion looked over at the counselor, uncomprehending.
"Mm-hmm. He's moving, quite a ways away, I believe . . . . tomorrow's his last day here . . . ." Kairi looked over at Zexion questioningly. "Didn't he tell you?"
Zexion felt like his whole world had just come crashing down around him. His book slipped from his hands, falling to the floor. "N . . . . no . . . . that . . . ." he whispered. "That . . . . stupid . . . ."
He didn't know when he'd gotten up, but suddenly Zexion found himself stoming over to where Demyx was crouched in the well-mown grass of the school field. "You idiot!" he screamed.
The other boy's head jerked up with an expression of shock. "Z-Zexy? What-?"
"You're so stupid!" Zexion yelled. "How dare you go away? I hate you!"
Demyx flinched visibly, his eyes wide, wet. "B-but -"
"Zexion." Both boys looked up to see Riku, one of the other counselors, standing over them. "You shouldn't say things like that. Especially not to your friends . . . . go sit inside and take a time-out."
"I -"
"Now, Zexion." Riku frowned disapprovingly.
Zexion looked down to the grass under his feet, his hands balling into fists. "Fine," he muttered. "Fine. Who needs you, anyway." He turned and ran back inside, forcing back the tears stinging his eyes.
I'm the one who needs you. Please don't leave me. You can't leave me. You're my best friend. I'll die.
A constant litany of pleas and wishes and desperate hopes raced through his mind, and Zexion wasn't sure how long it had been when a voice said timidly, "Zexy?"
Zexion lifted his head from the table, and there was Demyx, waiting just outside the door. His eyes were red and puffy, his shoulders shaking. His hands were clasped loosely together in front of him, and his face was filled with desperation and fear.
Zexion stumbled up, out towards his friend, reaching out for him weakly. "Dem . . . . I . . . ."
Demyx bit his lip, then shoved out his hands into Zexion's, unclasping them quickly and pulling them away. Zexion caught where they'd been, looking up at Demyx uncertainly.
The blond wasn't looking at him. Instead he turned away. "B . . . . bye, Zexy . . . . guess I'll . . . . see you tomorrow." And he raced off to where his mother's car waited.
Zexion stared after him, a thousand different emotions rolling around inside him. A soft flutter tickled his palm; he looked down, opening his hands.
A fiery skipper flapped its wings slowly, uncertainly. It turned, looked at him; Zexion's breath caught. Demyx had always wanted to catch one . . . . and now . . . .
The skipper took off into the air, and Zexion watched it go.
He didn't know what to do.
-That night, when Zexion's mother asked if he'd had fun that day, he replied that he was never having fun again. Then he went to his room and didn't come out for the rest of the night.-
Zexion chewed his lip, throwing another glance at the blond wandering through the school field.
What could he do?
Demyx was leaving. Leaving. He couldn't do anything about that.
What if Demyx forgot about him?
Zexion couldn't bear that thought, so, being Zexion, he started thinking of how to make sure Demyx remembered him. And the best way to do this, he'd decided, was to give Demyx a gift so amazing, so wonderful, that he would never forget Zexion. Not ever.
Of course, this was where Zexion had hit a little snag. What was he supposed to give Demyx? What would be that amazing?
So as the day went on, and Zexion tried to think of what should be Demyx's gift to no avail, he became more and more frantic, so that by the end of the day he was nearly panicking.
And then, the words he'd been dreading: "Demyx! Your parents are here to pick you up, time to go home!"
Zexion's head jerked up at the same time that his friend's did, and as Demyx stood to make his way across the field, a sudden idea struck the slate-haired boy. He started to run full-tilt after his friend. "Dem!"
Demyx turned, confusion and just a trace of hope in his ocean eyes, and then Zexion tumbled into his arms and pressed their lips together desperately, and the world around them froze.
He broke away after a few moments, blushing and scuffing his feet on the ground. "'m sorry, Dem, I . . . . it was the only thing I could think of to give you. Please . . . ." His voice sank to a whisper. "Please don't forget me?"
Demyx was silent for a moment. Zexion looked up at him nervously, and suddenly the blond pulled him into a tight hug. "I won't forget you," he murmured in Zexion's ear. "I promise. Not ever."
"Demyx!" his father called. "Let's go!"
Demyx broke away, his lips brushing Zexion's cheek. "Bye," he murmured. And then he turned, and just like that, Demyx was gone.
-That night, Zexion stopped telling his mother about his days at school.-
"So, for Monday, please read chapters three and four for homework. We'll be discussing them when the next class meets."
Zexion made a careful note of the assignment in his planner and packed up, standing to leave with a sigh. Oceanography wasn't a bad class, and he needed the GE credits, but . . . . sometimes it was exceedingly simple.
"Hey!" someone called as he pushed his way into the hallway. "Oi, you!"
Zexion ignored it and kept walking on the way back to his dorm. At least, he would have if not for the callused hand that clamped tightly around his wrist, whirling him around to bring his lips crashing against another's.
Zexion was in shock for only a moment before shoving the stranger away. "What the hell was that?" he demanded angrily.
He could practically hear the grin in the other young man's voice as he replied, "Sorry, Zexy." Bastard.
Wait.
"But you see, it was the only thing I could think of to give you," Demyx continued. "Honestly, and here I'd thought you'd at least remember me. What with the promise and all."
A thousand different replies sailed through Zexion's head, and finally he settled for, "Shut up, dumbass. What hall are you in?"
"Ansem the Wise. First floor."
"Really? I'm there as well. I've never seen you around."
"That's because you're antisocial!"
"Whatever you say, Dem . . . ."
-That night, Zexion called his mother and asked if she still believed in "happily ever after."-
-owari-
Author: villanelle_koi
Pairing: Zexion/Demyx
Rating: PG
Summary: A brush of wings on a soft palm, a brush of lips on a soft cheek. That was all they ever had to give.
Flutter
"It'll be nice, Zexion," his mother had told him. "You'll get to meet other kids, play with them. You'll have a great time."
Personally, Zexion doubted that day care was going to be that fun. Besides, he liked being left alone. Other kids would just be annoying and interrupt him when he was trying to read. Still, his mother was very busy, and he knew it was unavoidable, so he might as well accept it.
That didn't mean he had to like it.
The people who worked at the day care - "counselors", they were called, but preferred to be known on a first-name basis - had been trying to get him out of his shell and socializing with the other children, with little success. They'd been able to put him outside on the school field and playground, but he just sat in some corner with his book. Try to take the book away and he would pitch an unholy fit until he got it back. Nothing would get him to play with the other children.
Today they hadn't even bothered to make him go outside. Zexion liked that; it was nice and quiet in the building with all the other kids off playing, and it was cool and there weren't any insects to bother him. Perfect for reading.
At least it was until another boy gamboled in, laughing brightly as he stumbled over to the nurse awkwardly. Zexion looked up with a pout; The Hobbit had just been starting to get good.
The nurse saw the boy and let out a frustrated sigh. "Again, Demyx?"
"Yep!" the boy replied brightly, sitting down in the chair across from her.
"You've got to be more careful," she scolded, getting out a pair of big bandages, cotton swabs, and rubbing alcohol. Zexion noticed for the first time that both of the boy's knees were badly skinned, bright red welling up in the scrapes.
"'M sorry, Kairi - ouch!" the boy yelped as she started cleaning the wounds with the alcohol.
She huffed slightly, finishing up and pasting the large band-aid on. "Every day you do this, Demyx. You're a walking disaster, I swear. Go on, go play."
"Thank you, Kairi!" The boy hopped off the seat and made for the door. Then he noticed Zexion, stopped, and walked over to him.
Zexion buried his nose in his book, attempting to ignore the boy so he'd go away. Apparently it didn't work, because that bright voice said, "Hello! I'm Demyx! What's your name?"
"That's Zexion, honey," Kairi called. "I think he's trying to read, why don't you leave him alone and go play?"
Demyx made a face. "Reading? That's boring."
Zexion's head snapped up with a scowl. "It is not," he growled. "Better'n rotting your brain with stupid TV."
"Boys, settle down," Kairi warned.
Demyx shrugged. "I don't watch TV much. Mama says it's bad for you."
"Well . . . . good," Zexion huffed, bringing up the book to his face again.
Ocean eyes peeked over the top of the book. "You sure you don't wanna come out to play? It's a reeeeaaaaaally nice day."
"Positive," Zexion replied.
Demyx pouted, then shrugged. "Okay, then. I'll see you later, Zexy!" he laughed, bounding out the door.
Zexion didn't answer, focusing on his book as much as he could instead. A few minutes later, when he was sure nobody could hear, he muttered, "It's Zexion."
-That night, Zexion's mother asked him if anything new had happened at day care. Zexion told her no, it had been just another boring day.-
"Hey, Zexy!"
Zexion looked up from his book with a small frown, opening his mouth to refute the nickname, and was greeted by the sight of the same boy from a few days ago. "What d'you want?"
"You are Zexion, right?" Demyx grinned. "Sorry, my memory's all bad. I got it right, then?"
"No," Zexion muttered resentfully. "My name's Zexion. Not Zexy."
Demyx pouted. "Well sorry, Princess Zexion."
"Don't call me princess," Zexion growled. "And you didn't answer my question."
"Question?" Demyx cocked his head to the side, looking utterly confused. "What question?"
"What. Do. You. Want?" Zexion gritted out.
Demyx smiled, understanding dawning in his expression. "Oh, right! I wanted to ask if you'd like to come play."
"No."
"Why nooooot?" Demyx whined.
"Because I don't wanna."
"But you're out here today!"
"Only 'cause they made me."
Demyx sighed, a small pout on his lips."You're no fun at all," he muttered. Then he brightened again with a small shrug. "Well, if you wanna play later, then we can do that! See ya - Princess Zexion!"
Zexion stuttered after him in rage, but Demyx was already gone, laughing and gamboling across the weedy grass field. Zexion watched him for a while, running and cartwheeling and bright, so bright, so alive.
He looked back down to his book and kept reading.
-That night, Zexion offhandedly mentioned the boy from day care when his mother asked him how his day had been. He assured her quickly that he was a complete weirdo and not worth hanging out with.-
"What're you doing now, Demyx?"
"Shhh, I'm -" Demyx suddenly sat back on his haunches with a mournful expression. "Shoot! He got away. Now look what you did, Zexy."
Zexion blinked. He'd stopped correcting the nickname a while ago. Better than getting called "Princess Zexion". "What exactly did I do?"
"You scared him off," Demyx muttered resentfully, pouting as he scrambled over to where Zexion was sitting with his ever-present book.
Zexion looked up at Demyx, closing the book. "Who's 'he'?"
"A skipper," Demyx responded, as if that should explain everything.
Zexion sighed. He'd come to accept Demyx in the past few weeks - certainly nothing seemed to shake him off for long, so trying didn't do much good - but sometimes he could be . . . . trying. "What's a skipper?"
Demyx stared at him incredulously. "You don't know what a skipper is?"
"No," Zexion muttered sullenly.
"I thought you were supposed to be smart, Zexy!" Demyx crowed triumphantly.
Zexion huffed. "Sure, just 'cause I don't know your stupid names for things . . . ."
Demyx opened his mouth, then stopped. "Aw, don't be mad, Zexy . . . ." he murmured after a few moments. "'M sorry. I just thought it was kinda funny, that's all. Skippers are those little mini butterflies, you know, the ones we see all the time here."
Zexion folded his arms and looked away, pouting.
Demyx let out a little whine and scooted closer, resting his head on Zexion's lap. "I'm sorry, Zexy. I didn't mean it. Please don't be mad . . . ."
Zexion was silent for a moment. Then he muttered, "Doesn't matter to me, I don't care anyway." His hands tangled gently in the other boy's soft blond locks, and a faint blush covered his cheeks as he looked pointedly away from Demyx.
-That night, Zexion told his mother about the butterflies called skippers that he'd learned about today. They were boring anyway, he added, but at least he'd learned something new.-
"Mm! This is really good!"
Zexion flushed slightly, ducking his head a little. "It's not much," he muttered.
Demyx smiled. "Aw, but it really is, Zexy. And it's really nice that you shared your lunch with me today, just 'cause I forgot mine."
Zexion shrugged. "Don't mention it." Sure, he'd given up the last of his mom's homemade brownies, but the look on Demyx's face had been worth it. So worth it.
Demyx was quiet for a moment. Then he murmured, "You're my best friend. You know that, right?"
Zexion blinked. He hadn't, actually . . . . sure, Demyx seemed to like him a lot, but Demyx liked everyone. He didn't know that Demyx thought he was anything special.
"Zexy?" Demyx asked nervously. Zexion realized he hadn't said anything.
"Yeah . . . . yeah." He smiled. "You're my best friend, too."
Demyx grinned brightly, the last brownie left forgotten on his plate as he tackled Zexion in an enthusiastic hug.
"Dem - Demyx - gerroff!" Zexion choked out, shoving Demyx off of him.
Demyx pouted. "But we're best friends! Right?"
Zexion sighed, then promptly changed the subject.
-That night, Zexion asked his mother to teach him how to cook. When she asked him why, Zexion looked away and muttered something about lunchtime with a blush on his cheeks.-
"I don't see what's so good about those stupid butterflies," Zexion muttered.
"Huh?" Demyx looked away from the exploits the other children were getting into at the moment. "What d'you mean?"
"They're just insects," Zexion grumbled. "But every day, everybody's always out trying to catch them. I mean, that's just stupid."
"It is not!" Demyx protested. "It's a lot of fun!"
"Uh-huh," Zexion replied in tones of disbelief. "Running around after a bunch of girly butterflies is fun."
Demyx's mouth set itself into a stubborn pout. "C'mon, Zex. Have you ever tried it?"
Zexion snorted derisively. "No."
"Then of course you don't get it!" Demyx crowed truimphantly. "You gotta know what it's like first!"
"Nuh-uh. I'm not wasting my time." Zexion folded his arms.
"C'mon, Zexy! Pleeease?"
"No."
Demyx huffed. "Fine, I get it. You're just a scaredy-cat."
"What?" Zexion snapped. "Why am I being a scaredy-cat?"
"You're just scared that you'll suck at it." Demyx stuck his tongue out.
"Nuh-uh!"
"Then prove it!"
"....Fine!" Zexion slammed his book onto the seat and jumped up, stomping over to the school field, Demyx drifting along behind him and grinning to himself.
Pause. Glance. "Um. How do I do it?"
Demyx smiled. "Not too hard. C'mon, I'll show you . . . . let's go get an arts and crafts bin. And some construction paper, too."
-That night, Zexion babbled proudly to his mother about how he'd learned to catch the little butterflies in his school field. She smiled indulgently and listened, glad to see her baby boy so happy.-
"No, no, don't eat it like that!"
Zexion paused from where he was about to take a bite out of his Oreo. "Why not?"
"Be-cause." Demyx scooted over, another Oreo in hand. "You have to do it like this." He took one side of the cookie in each hand, twisting slightly and pulling them apart carefully.
Zexion blinked. "Why do I hve to do it like that?"
"Because. Look at this." Demyx held out the two halves of the cookie for inspection. "See how most of the cream's on one side? If you get all of it on one side, it means good luck! You can make a wish!"
".....Really?" Zexion looked down to his still-uneaten Oreo. A wish . . . .
"Go on, try it!" Demyx said eagerly.
Zexion frowned over at his friend, then looked down at his Oreo again. He took a deep breath and started pulling the two halves apart.
"Did you get it?" Demyx piped up beside him.
"N-no . . . ." Zexion showed the blond the halves of his Oreo, one with most of the cream on it, the other with just a little bit.
"Aww. Well, maybe next time you will!" Demyx told him blithely, starting to lick at the cream on his own cookie.
Zexion looked down again and started eating his own cookie. And, because it couldn't hurt, he made a wish anyway.
I wish we could be best friends forever.
"So, Zexy," Demyx said.
"Huh?" Zexion perked up as he finished his Oreo.
"You wanna try catching a fiery skipper today?"
"What d'you mean?"
"You've been catching fairy skippers, those're the blue ones with white spots. They're really easy. Fiery skippers, those orange-brown ones, are much harder . . . ."
-That night, Zexion told his mother about the different kinds of skippers in his school field with a smile. When she asked where he'd learned all that, he replied "From my friend . . . . Demyx."-
Zexion tensed. Waited. Slowly, ever so carefully, he crawled forward, jar in one hand, paper in the other, and -
"You still catch 'em with jars?" someone declared behind him in tones of derision.
Zexion jumped, the jar slipping from his grip and landing in the grass with a soft thud. Immediately the fiery skipper took off, flitting away; and he'd been so close, too. Zexion slumped dejectedly, then glared over at the one who'd spoken. "What d'you want, Axel?"
The redhead shrugged, grinning. "Just think it's funny that you're such an amateur you have to use jars."
"What, you don't?" Zexion demanded irritably.
Axel's grin widened. "Nope! I catch 'em with my hands. 'Cause I'm not a loser," he added.
Zexion gritted his teeth. "I'm not a -"
"Axel, stop being mean," Demyx's voice broke in. "Zexy's my friend."
"Someone cool like you shouldn't hang out with someone lame like him," Axel replied, turning to the other boy.
"Zexy isn't lame," Demyx huffed. "He's a lot cooler'n you, you . . . . dumb-butt!"
"He is not," Axel protested, ignoring Zexion's quietly triumphant smirk at Demyx's statement. He folded his arms with a pout. "Well, fine. You're both losers. And I don't hang out with losers." And with that, he turned and stomped off.
Demyx turned to Zexion, smiling. "'m sorry about Axel . . . . he's really cool when you get to know him."
Zexion pouted, looking away. "He's always picking on me," he muttered. Then he looked back at Demyx with a blink. "What're you holding?"
"Hm?" Demyx followed Zexion's gaze down to where his hands were loosely clasped together. "Ohh! Right! Here, I'll show you." He carefully opened his hands, revealing a fairy skipper.
As Zexion watched, it fluttered its wings uncertainly, then took off. He followed its flight with his eyes for a moment, then looked back at Demyx in amazement. "You can catch them with your bare hands, too?"
"Of course! I taught Axel everything he knows." Demyx grinned. "Someday, I'll even catch a fiery skipper like that . . . . no one's been able to yet."
Zexion slumped dejectedly for a moment. Then he looked back up at Demyx. "Dem?"
"Hm?"
"Teach me how to do that?"
"You sure? It's a lot harder . . . ."
Zexion nodded firmly.
Demyx smiled, grabbing his hand and leading him out to the field. "Well, then, let's go!"
-That night, Zexion proudly told his mother about his best friend, who was so cool that he could catch skippers with his bare hands.-
"Are you okay, Dem?"
"Fine." Tap. Tap. "Why?"
"I dunno, you just seem kinda . . . . down lately." Zexion frowned down into his lap.
Tap. Tap.
Zexion fidgeted. "Dem," he muttered atlast, his cheeks pink with embarrassment. "Can't I try?"
"Maybe later." Tap. Tap.
"I'm bored."
"Mm-hm. That's nice." Tap. Tap.
Zexion chewed on his bottom lip. "You don't . . . . wanna hang out with me?"
Tap. Ta-
Zexion looked up to find his friend staring at him with hurt-filled eyes. "You think I don't wanna hang out with you anymore?"
"I . . . . ah . . . ." Zexion looked away, a light blush dusting his cheeks. "'Course I don't," he muttered. Anything to take that look off his friend's face.
Demyx's Gameboy clattered to the floor, and Zexion vaguely noticed the words GAME OVER flashing on the screen before the blond's arms wrapped around him in a warm hug. "You're my best friend, Zexy," the other boy murmured. "My best friend. 'm sorry. Please don't be mad . . . ."
Zexion's blush deepened, but he finally managed to mumble, "Stop being such a girl, Dem."
The other boy pulled back, grinning. "C'mon, let's go make paper Gameboys!"
"Wh-why?" Zexion asked, bewildered.
"So we can play together, duh!" Demyx replied, as though this should be obvious.
"But Dem -"
"C'mon, Zexy! We're best friends, right?"
Zexion groaned internally. Demyx would have to play that card, wouldn't he . . . . His eyes softened, and he nodded with a smile. "Yeah. We are."
Demyx grinned, poking his nose. "Now who's being a girl?" And he skipped off merrily, ignoring Zexion's indignant splutters behind him.
-That night, Zexion proudly showed off the paper Gameboy he'd made in daycare that day. When his mother asked if that defeated the purpose, he replied "Of course not," and that was that.-
"Zexion, why are you sitting here all by yourself? Aren't you going to go play with Demyx?"
Zexion huffed, turning a page in his book. "He doesn't want to play with me."
Kairi looked concerned, and sat down by Zexion. "Did something happen between the two of you?"
"No," Zexion snapped. "He's just being dumb."
"Zexion. Demyx is your friend, you shouldn't call him things like that," Kairi admonished. Then she sighed. "Maybe he's upset about the move."
"M . . . . move?" Zexion looked over at the counselor, uncomprehending.
"Mm-hmm. He's moving, quite a ways away, I believe . . . . tomorrow's his last day here . . . ." Kairi looked over at Zexion questioningly. "Didn't he tell you?"
Zexion felt like his whole world had just come crashing down around him. His book slipped from his hands, falling to the floor. "N . . . . no . . . . that . . . ." he whispered. "That . . . . stupid . . . ."
He didn't know when he'd gotten up, but suddenly Zexion found himself stoming over to where Demyx was crouched in the well-mown grass of the school field. "You idiot!" he screamed.
The other boy's head jerked up with an expression of shock. "Z-Zexy? What-?"
"You're so stupid!" Zexion yelled. "How dare you go away? I hate you!"
Demyx flinched visibly, his eyes wide, wet. "B-but -"
"Zexion." Both boys looked up to see Riku, one of the other counselors, standing over them. "You shouldn't say things like that. Especially not to your friends . . . . go sit inside and take a time-out."
"I -"
"Now, Zexion." Riku frowned disapprovingly.
Zexion looked down to the grass under his feet, his hands balling into fists. "Fine," he muttered. "Fine. Who needs you, anyway." He turned and ran back inside, forcing back the tears stinging his eyes.
I'm the one who needs you. Please don't leave me. You can't leave me. You're my best friend. I'll die.
A constant litany of pleas and wishes and desperate hopes raced through his mind, and Zexion wasn't sure how long it had been when a voice said timidly, "Zexy?"
Zexion lifted his head from the table, and there was Demyx, waiting just outside the door. His eyes were red and puffy, his shoulders shaking. His hands were clasped loosely together in front of him, and his face was filled with desperation and fear.
Zexion stumbled up, out towards his friend, reaching out for him weakly. "Dem . . . . I . . . ."
Demyx bit his lip, then shoved out his hands into Zexion's, unclasping them quickly and pulling them away. Zexion caught where they'd been, looking up at Demyx uncertainly.
The blond wasn't looking at him. Instead he turned away. "B . . . . bye, Zexy . . . . guess I'll . . . . see you tomorrow." And he raced off to where his mother's car waited.
Zexion stared after him, a thousand different emotions rolling around inside him. A soft flutter tickled his palm; he looked down, opening his hands.
A fiery skipper flapped its wings slowly, uncertainly. It turned, looked at him; Zexion's breath caught. Demyx had always wanted to catch one . . . . and now . . . .
The skipper took off into the air, and Zexion watched it go.
He didn't know what to do.
-That night, when Zexion's mother asked if he'd had fun that day, he replied that he was never having fun again. Then he went to his room and didn't come out for the rest of the night.-
Zexion chewed his lip, throwing another glance at the blond wandering through the school field.
What could he do?
Demyx was leaving. Leaving. He couldn't do anything about that.
What if Demyx forgot about him?
Zexion couldn't bear that thought, so, being Zexion, he started thinking of how to make sure Demyx remembered him. And the best way to do this, he'd decided, was to give Demyx a gift so amazing, so wonderful, that he would never forget Zexion. Not ever.
Of course, this was where Zexion had hit a little snag. What was he supposed to give Demyx? What would be that amazing?
So as the day went on, and Zexion tried to think of what should be Demyx's gift to no avail, he became more and more frantic, so that by the end of the day he was nearly panicking.
And then, the words he'd been dreading: "Demyx! Your parents are here to pick you up, time to go home!"
Zexion's head jerked up at the same time that his friend's did, and as Demyx stood to make his way across the field, a sudden idea struck the slate-haired boy. He started to run full-tilt after his friend. "Dem!"
Demyx turned, confusion and just a trace of hope in his ocean eyes, and then Zexion tumbled into his arms and pressed their lips together desperately, and the world around them froze.
He broke away after a few moments, blushing and scuffing his feet on the ground. "'m sorry, Dem, I . . . . it was the only thing I could think of to give you. Please . . . ." His voice sank to a whisper. "Please don't forget me?"
Demyx was silent for a moment. Zexion looked up at him nervously, and suddenly the blond pulled him into a tight hug. "I won't forget you," he murmured in Zexion's ear. "I promise. Not ever."
"Demyx!" his father called. "Let's go!"
Demyx broke away, his lips brushing Zexion's cheek. "Bye," he murmured. And then he turned, and just like that, Demyx was gone.
-That night, Zexion stopped telling his mother about his days at school.-
"So, for Monday, please read chapters three and four for homework. We'll be discussing them when the next class meets."
Zexion made a careful note of the assignment in his planner and packed up, standing to leave with a sigh. Oceanography wasn't a bad class, and he needed the GE credits, but . . . . sometimes it was exceedingly simple.
"Hey!" someone called as he pushed his way into the hallway. "Oi, you!"
Zexion ignored it and kept walking on the way back to his dorm. At least, he would have if not for the callused hand that clamped tightly around his wrist, whirling him around to bring his lips crashing against another's.
Zexion was in shock for only a moment before shoving the stranger away. "What the hell was that?" he demanded angrily.
He could practically hear the grin in the other young man's voice as he replied, "Sorry, Zexy." Bastard.
Wait.
"But you see, it was the only thing I could think of to give you," Demyx continued. "Honestly, and here I'd thought you'd at least remember me. What with the promise and all."
A thousand different replies sailed through Zexion's head, and finally he settled for, "Shut up, dumbass. What hall are you in?"
"Ansem the Wise. First floor."
"Really? I'm there as well. I've never seen you around."
"That's because you're antisocial!"
"Whatever you say, Dem . . . ."
-That night, Zexion called his mother and asked if she still believed in "happily ever after."-
-owari-