Kingdom Hearts isn't mine. And just a warning... This isn't my regular angst-turned-happy writing.

Every once in a while, something inside him just... Broke. He wanted to blame it partly on the fact that, technically, he was still seventeen and, therefore, still had teenage hormones. But being honest with himself, he knew it was more than that.

He was stuck all day in the depths of the castle with Vexen and Lexaeus. Vexen was something of a father figure, but Zexion found listening to him complain and laugh all day grew boring and irritating. Many times he found himself wishing, as he did whatever menial taks the older member assiged to him, that he was a higher rank and had the right to simply tell Vexn to shut up.

Lexaeus was a completely different story. The big man didn't speak to Zexion much, or at all, really, but when he did he spoke to him like the intellectual he was, rather than the teenager his body suggested. It was refreshing, and though he rarely showed it, Zexion adored the older member for it.

And therein, Zexion knew, lay the actual problem.

While he believed they didn't have physical hearts, he knew that the heart is not what actually controlled their emotions. Rather, that job fell to the brain, which everyone in the Organization certainly possessed.

Zexion knew the problem revolved around The Silent Hero, mainly the fact that he had developed somewhat of a crush on him. And on occassion, his act would slip and he would do something to alert Lexaeus of his 'feelings.' These occurences never ended well, leaving the smaller nobody where he was now.

He closed the door to his room quietly, sliding down the door and sitting on the floor, knees drawn up to his chest and head in his hands.

Zexion hated these times. Lexaeus would look at him with the faintest traces of disgust in his expression. Sometimes, he would remind him they didn't have hearts. Others, he would simply walk away. Those times were almost worse than when he spoke before leaving. He was always forgiven after a few day had passed, of course, but the something inside him that cracked a little more each time never seemed to repair itself any.

Demyx lived for the times whe Zexion slipped.

The Orgnization's number IX was much more than the other members gave him credit for. He was lazy, and intelligent enough to get out of doing a lot of his work. He didn't enjoy fighting, but when he did, he was a force to be reckoned with.

But, of course, the worst of his reputation came from stating that he believed they possessed the power to feel. And the days when Zexion slipped were the reasons he held to his theory.

His thoughts were always on his superior member. He watched him, keeping a mental tab on the schemer whenever he could, hoping, waiting.

His last mistake had been almost four months ago. Demyx's chest twinged when he realized Zexion was becoming more and more careful, and that meant he would see less of him.

He waited for those rare slips, those wonderful nights when he was allowed physical contact with Zexion. After all, the youngest of the original Nobodies was just as manipulative, superior, and scathingly sarcastic as 'rumors' said. He looked at everyone below him with digust and rarely addressed any of them with the exception of reprimands and the training of new members.

Those nights where he was allowed to see the real Zexion were what kept Demyx sane.

Zexion seemingly crumpled further into himself as he tried to muster the strength to stand. He knew what he had to do; where he would be spending the night. There was only one person in the Organization that would welcome him with open arms, though the schemer was loathe to go to him with the knowledge that he would as willingly accept anyone else into his room.

Slowly, he made himself stand, turning to face his recently closed door and rest his forehead on it for a moment. He took a deep breath then, twisting the handle and pushing the door out quickly, before he had a chance to talk himself out of it.

He walked down the hallway with the same outward air he always held, just in case he passed any other members before reaching his destination. He passed two doors as pearly white as everything else, the only difference being the VII engraved on the first and the VIII on the second. Finally he paused in front of the door marked IX, turning to face it and breathing a sigh of both relief and disappointment at the soft music from within.

Demyx hummed softly as he plucked strings on his sitar, smiling softly despite his miserable train of thought. He couldn't let someone see him sad, after all. He couldn't risk having to explain himself. It would find its way to Zexion, of course, as everything did... And then he might go to someone else. Though he could live with being used as a comfort object, he didn't think he'd be able to stand knowing Zexion was in a bed with someone other than himself.

He looked up, startled, as the presence he felt in the hallway remained outside his door rather than continuing on. Could tonight be one of those wonderful, painful, bittersweet nights? If so, he reminded himself, Zexion would open the door momentarily.

The door opened as Demyx suspected it would, then clicked back closed softly as Zexion shut it after him, leaving his back turned to the musician for a few moments.

When he finally did face him, his cobalt blue eyes were filmed over with water Demyx knew he had never, and would never, let fall. He dismissed his sitar without a word, the instrument vanishing from his grasp in a shower of bubbles that disappeared rapidly. Shifting so he was sitting cross-legged on his bed, he opened his arms to the other in the room, waiting quietly.

Zexion simply stared at Demyx at first, before taking measured steps over to the bed, collapsing onto the lap of the other Nobody when he finally reached it. He let his head fall onto Demyx's shoulder as he felt warm arms wrap around him, his own arms remaining limp at his sides.

"Want to talk about it?" he heard Demyx ask distantly, the question taking a few moments to register in his mind before he managed to shake his head.

"No," he articulated weakly. He hadn't come here to whine and complain, after all. He'd come to Demyx to be held, to be accepted and valued, and above all, to feel. Even if the care was simply the shadow of an emotion he was no longer able to grasp, Demyx was an expert at reproducing and projecting the feeling onto others. Zexion knew he wasn't the only member to have realized this, and also that he wasn't the only member to go to the nocturne in order to experience it. But he needed the feeling, the warmth, and the blissful slowness it brought to his mind for a short time.

"Zexion," Demyx said, the mentioned schemer revelling in the vibrations he felt in the other's chest as his name was spoken. He didn't respond for the sole reason of getting him to speak again. "Why did you come here?"

Though he smirked very lightly at the desired response, something - Hesitation? Distaste? - in Demyx's tone of voice caused Zexion's previously semi-relaxed position to stiffen. His hands tightened mometarily before he forced them loose, bringing one up to rest on the side of the nocturne's neck and the other to lightly twist around the stray hairs at the back of his neck.

"You know very well why I came here, Demyx," Zexion said sharply, using his grip on Demyx's hair to lower his head enough to connect their lips.

Demyx smiled somewhat sadly into the kiss as he took control of it. Yes, he did know exactly why Zexion had come to him, what he expected, and what needed to be done to piece the schemer back together again.

What Zexion didn't know, though, was that Demyx was much more intelligent than he gave him credit for. The nocturne fabricated lies and stories, started and spread rumors about himself. And of course, with so few people all living together, these things spread quickly. Something said just a bit too loudly in front of Marluxia or Larxene would be common knowledge to everyone within a few hours. Axel was a bit more tactful, though he still knew how to pass on a rumor believably. Luxord and Xigbar were his greatest allies, however. Fully aware of his 'feelings' for Zexion, they helped create and enhance his lies, recalling and recounting in vivid detail their nights with him that, in reality, never happened. It came at a price, though. Demyx was the subject of merciless teasing.

He did all of this - belittled himself, created a horrible false reputation, acted like an idiot to keep it convincing - for Zexion. He knew, should the schemer find out that he was different, that he wasn't a 'free-loving whore,' that he would stop coming to him, stop depending on him to pick him up and set him back on his feet. Demyx knew if that happened, his already mundane 'existence' would become unbearable.

And though he knew he was wrong, a little part of him clung to the thought that maybe, just maybe, Zexion would be at as much of a loss with the separation as he was.

He held to that impossible false hope as he used his tongue to toy with Zexion's, marveling at the feeling of the shorter male's legs moving from their position to wrap around his hips loosely, settling his butt in Demyx's lap in a way comfortable for both of them.

Yes, these were the nights he lived for.

Zexion lay with his head tucked underneath Demyx's chin, the nocturne's fingers threading slowly through his hair as sweat cooled on both their bodies. With Demyx on his back and Zexion on top of him, the schemer traced absent-minded circles on the other's chest with one hand, his other curled against his own chest. The hand of Demyx's not occupied by hair was wrapped over Zexion' back, stroking at his waist.

"Thank you," Zexion said quietly, his voice muffled by his position and muddled by the sheer exhaustion that had overtaken his body after coming down from his Demyx-induced high. Demyx must have somehow understood him, however, as his low, soft chuckle vibrated his chest and Zexion's along with it.

"No reason to thank me, Zexy," he said warmly, and Zexion let the nickname slip, as he always did after sex with Demyx. "It's not as if I didn't enjoy it as well." The hand at his waist moved, running calloused, talented fingers from the top of his right shoulder blade, to the base of his spine, up to the top of his left shoulder blade, and back down in a repeated 'V' that caused Zexion to shudder involuntarily.

He felt Demyx's legs untangle from his own, then nudge blankets from the foot of the bed up enough for the hand that had been running fingers through his hair to grab the edge and pull it up over both of them.

He sighed and shifted, trying to press himself closer to Demyx's comforting warmth, letting his eyes slip closed.

"You'll stay the night, right?"

He sighed again, less in contentment this time and more in irritation at being asked a repeated question. "You know the drill, Demyx. I'll stay until early morning, then retire to my own room." Despite his somewhat harsh tone, he moved to press a simple, but lingering kiss to Demyx's lips. He rolled off the nocturne then, shifting and curling into his side instead. "Go to sleep. I'll wake you up before I leave."

He'd known he was lying, of course. Zexion never intentionally woke him. Sometimes he didn't. But this time, a lithe body untangling itself from him had done the job, and he watched as Zexion, already pale skin turned glistening white in the light of Kingdom Hearts coming in through the window, walked naked around the room and identified his own black leather clothing from Demyx's. He didn't bother to dress, most likely ready to slip into his own bed as naked as he was.

Demyx didn't bother to act asleep when Zexion's cobalt blue gaze turned on him, clothes bundled in his arms. He met his eyes evenly, letting hurt and care both show through his expression. He kept silent, however, knowing that speaking his thoughts would cause Zexion to retreat further into himself and perhaps go to someone else the next time he slipped. It had happened before, after all. He was fully aware that while he was he first choice, he was not he only.

Instead he tried to translate his want through their connected gazes, but gave up when Zexion's expression turned completely blank, giving him the air he always seemed to have around the members inferior to him.

Demyx watched as he turned, raising one arm simply to rip a hole in the air and open a dark corridor. He stepped through it without a glance back, and as it closed, something caught in his throat.

He knew he meant nothing, that he would never be anything more than a comfort object to be used when needed and ignored at all other times, and he had accepted it. But it didn't stop the pain whenever Zexion walked away. It didn't help dissipate the knowledge that the person he loved, acted happy for, waited for, wanted nothing to do with him.

It didn't change the fact that Zexion, who he cared for more than he cared for himself, was absolutely unobtainable. Despite his efforts, Demyx would always be left to wilt without his sun.

A/N

Um... Yeah. I warned you? Not sure what to say about this... Besides that I had to get the angst out of my system. It's been hand-written for a while but I only just got around to typing it today. I have tons of things that I've written and need to post... I just need to finish most of them. Hehheh... Yeah, figured I owed you guys something since I've been so inactive... So I hope you liked Sunflower.

~Inju