Author Notes: My first freely written fic! -does little dance-

Dedication: To the one and only Hikari Aiyano. She fully rocks. I swear, the number of times I fell off my chair in happiness at the fact she recognized my existence! I'm surprised I don't have brain dammage

Summary: The love Zexion feels for Demyx is marked upon his skin. THIS IS NOT A CUTTING FIC! I REPEAT, THIS IS NOT A FIC ABOUT CUTTING! Trust me!

Suggested Listening : Accidentally In Love - Counting Crows

Caramelldansen - Caramell? (dunno?)

Bang The Doldrums - FallOutBoy (win 'dos Dan!)

Disclaimer: I do not in any way shape or form own Kingdom Hearts, the dudes and dudettes within it, or anything else in this fic that I do not own. Believe me, if I owned Kingdom Hearts, things would be a lot different; Xigbar would be banned from shotting straws up peoples noses, Demyx would be made superior, just for entertainment value, Kairi would stop acting so pathetic, Naminé and Roxas would never have been re-absorbed. Axel and Roxas would be having 'fun' somewhere, Demyx and Zexion would be snuggling on the couch, Saïx and Xemnas would lock the door, Riku an Sora would be too busy nomnoming to kill any one, and the third game would be out YESTERDAY!

Hope you enjoyed my rambling...

Love Ingrained

Longing tears ran down my face, dripping from the tip of my nose and landing with a salty 'plop' on my top lip. I could smell the salinity as easily as I could taste it. With a deep breath I reached out for my tool, the cool metal calming against my burning, flustered skin. Holding out my left arm, I choose an as-yet-unmarked place. Carefully placing the tip upon my flesh, I began to draw it along my arm.

Long before I'd even set eyes on the kid, I knew who Demyx Noua was. Everyone did. He wasn't amazingly smart, he was a little too nice too be one of the really popular people, and even in the things he did best, like swimming and music, he wasn't top. But he was just one of those people. No-one ever needed to ask 'Hey, who's that blond kid with the mullet?', and Demyx Noua was one of the first names a new student learned.

In a way, he was very much like those celebrities that are famous, simply for being famous. But unlike those celebrities, Demyx never abused his fame. He was always talking to new people in the corridor, helping new students find their classes, comforting the bullied and encouraging the scared.

Everyone from their slightly insane principal, to the bitchiest girl in the 'it' squad, had a soft spot for Demyx. Many people liked the blond, but from the moment that the two of us met I knew, just knew that no-one else could love the boy in the same way that I did.

Gentle swirls, soft curves, smooth twists. Not so many abrupt changes of direction today, he had been so calm. I moved slowly, in no rush to mark the bare skin of my arm. I could happily draw this out, make it last all night if I wanted. He had been so calm today. So beautifully calm.

The day I met Demyx was a like a dream. Normally, I would sit with Riku at lunch, but he had recently started going out with Sora. I didn't mind all that much that my lunch-time companion was gone. I had my book, and if I did end up getting lonely, Naminé wouldn't mind me sitting with her. I sat there, reading my book, 'B'eauty, completely oblivious to the rest of the world as I sunk into the wonderful dream that the author had created for me.

"Hey, I'm Demyx."

I glanced up. Sitting beside me, with his head tilted slightly to the side, was the most beautiful boy in the world. He was holding out a hand for me to shake. Which I did, marvelling at the cool softness of his skin.

"I'm Zexion." I mumbled, to awe struck to think of anything better to say.

"I know!" he laughed, the wondrous sound, displayed for such a small thing. It was stunning. "You're in band! You play the flute!"

Demyx amazed me, how could he put so much energy and joy into every word without sounding far too hyper?

"Why don't you come and sit with us? Naminé said you've been sitting alone far too much lately."

I looked at him, astonished. He didn't hesitate to explain;

"She sits with us a lot, it's surprising we haven't met before. C'mon!"

He dragged me by the wrist to a cluster of tables that were grouped together haphazardly. Naminé, and her slightly louder twin Kairi I'd known for a long time, Axel Nyoruka was in my chemistry class, the blond boy, Roxas, who was perched defiantly on Axel's lap was Sora's twin brother, Marluxia took biology with me, and Larxene was well known for being the only girl (and person for that matter) to have dunked Axel's hair in the school fountain and lived.

I sat down next to Naminé and she smiled softly at me. I smiled sheepishly back, it was taking all of my will power to keep from staring at Demyx's big aqua eyes as I traced bizarre patterns on the table top.

I finished off on my arm. Not with a flourish like most days, but with a soft sweeping curve. I smiled at my handiwork, many would think me a freak for doing so, but I don't care. This was my way of dealing, not theirs. How could they understand the relief that this brings to me? How could they understand how unbearably sweet it feels to mark on the outside, what I feel for him inside? No one could understand this. Which is why I keep it a secret.

When I got home that night, my parents were still at work. I locked myself in my room, struggling to understand what I felt. It was love, I knew that much. But how was I supposed to deal it? How to express my feelings? My eyes fall on a pen, and I remember the patterns I traced with my finger today. Those swirls and curves and twists and flicks, all inspired by Demyx. My first instinct was to put it down on paper, but then I realise how vulnerable that surface is. It could be damaged, or found, or discarded so easily. I stare down at my pale limbs as I ponder this conundrum, and a thought strikes me. Lifting the pen, I place the nib on my forearm and begin to draw.

I sat there, staring at the beautiful patterns on my skin. Beautiful, not because I have drawn them, nor because they are on my body, but because they are him. I reached over to my dresser, pulling out a hoodie and a pair of jeans. There was no longer a single t-shirt, nor pair of shorts in my possession. No one could be allowed to know, no one could be allowed to see. Especially not Demyx, never Demyx.

The release of inking him onto my skin was wonderful. I was no longer the stumbling mess that had had trouble unlocking the door. After pulling on a long-sleeved shirt, I was much more relaxed. I smiled at the dinner table and laughed at my parents' lame jokes. That night when I feel into bed, I slept easily.

The next day Demyx allowed me to sit with him and his group again. I was on cloud nine. It was fantastic, just listening to his voice as he joked about, seeing him move with exaggerated gestures. Every time Demyx looked at me, grinned in my direction, hell every time he moved towards me even the slightest bit, my heart sped up.

At band I couldn't keep my eyes off him. How had I not noticed this beauty before? Every string he strummed on whatever instrument he was playing, every note he sung, made me miss a beat. By halfway through the lesson, our teacher gave up on me and sent me to a practice room. I was glad to have a chance to hide my blushing.

That night as I stood in the shower, I realised how similar the liquid was to Demyx, soft flexible, always moving, full of enthusiasm. I was so wrapped up in noticing the similarities between Demyx and the calming water, that it wasn't until I was getting dressed that I noticed the markings on my arm were almost gone.

At first I panicked, running to my room to try and fix the problem. I tried and tried and tried, but I couldn't recreate yesterdays design. But the patterns I did draw were undeniably Demyx. Why were the swirls so different? I pondered. No one else would notice the difference, but I did. Then I realised, he had been different today. Ever so slightly different. That's why my pattern had changed.

Each day a new pattern. The thought delighted me.

Looping, curling, coiling. I traced the pattern with my fingers, comforted and happy. Yet underneath the joy I felt at my release, there was the terrifying knowledge that this wouldn't last forever. One day I would no longer be able to see him. One day my release would be taken from me. And he would leave, because he would never be mine. I'm just another person to him. He could never understand the way I feel. And I know that that would hurt him. That I could never stand. That is why I can never tell him. It would be simpler to wash off each pattern, destroy the evidence, but sometimes half the fun of having a secret, is the fear that you'll be found out

That was how I dealt with my love for Demyx, how I dealt with the hurt that accompanied such a feeling. For a very long time, it worked well. Each day I would see Demyx, and each night I would draw on my skin. I was completely addicted to both.

"Hey Zexion!" called Demyx. I turned to look at him.

"Hi Demyx." was my only reply. The grin on his face was stunning, but I was exhausted, I'd been up all night trying to get the pattern right.

"Guess what Zexi!"

I looked at him, his hair was slightly damp.

"You broke a swimming record?"

"No." His smile didn't even falter.

"Well then, what?"

His smile widened as he told me

"My band's performing at the social!"

"Wow Dem, that's amazing!"

Demyx threw his arms around me in a bear hug.

"I'd love to stay, but I have to go practice! See ya!"

"See ya." I whispered, but he'd already left.

Demyx was constantly practising in the lead up to the social. He was so happy, and although I saw him less, it was as though what I did see of him was concentrated, intensified.

"Hey, Zexi?" he asked, flopping down beside me during individual practice at band. I hadn't seen him there for weeks. He was too busy preparing.

"Yeah Dem?"

"Um, well, are you,"

I had never seen him stutter like this.

"Are you coming to hear me play at the social?"

I looked up.

"You want me to come and hear you play?" I asked him, stunned.

"Yeah! Course I do! You're one of my best friends. I mean, you don't have to come, but I'd like it if you did."

His eyes were so earnest. There was no way I could resist.

"Sure, I'll come."

He smiled at me. Then wrapped me in a tight bear hug.

"Thanks Zexi! This means a lot to me!"

The night of the social, I was almost late. Demyx would show a lot of emotion tonight, I spent forever washing of the past patterns to make enough room for tonight's ritual

With twenty minutes to go, I threw on my least tattered pair of jeans, and white long-sleeved shirt. I hopped out the door, still tying up my shoe laces. The school was close enough, so I walked (or rather jogged). The social was being held in the hall, I slid in the back door, handing over my ticket, just as the curtain on the stage rose.

Demyx looked stunning.

Dry ice smoke swirled around his feet and he'd obviously been attacked by Kairi, Naminé, Olette and Selphie. His mullet had been spiked up to make it look almost like a mohawk, his black t-shirt had a deep electric blue stripe down the front; black, white and blue checkered wristbands covered the soft flesh of his forearms. A couple of those ring-things that Roxas was so fond of encircled his fingers, there was a small silver loop in one of his ears and if I wasn't mistaken, the girls had managed to apply the tiniest bit of eyeliner.

It was breath-taking.

Demyx smiled at the other band members, (Axel on bass, Roxas on electric guitar, Marly on the keyboard and Xigbar Keto on percussion) and stepped up to the microphone.

Demyx's little band wasn't the best, but no one else would have practised as much as Demyx forced his people to. And no-one else would have performed with as much enthusiasm as they would.

The music that flowed from that stage stunned me. I could barely breath. Every doubt about how much I loved him was washed away at the sound of that music. He poured everything into it. God, they even played Caramelldansen, the sight of Demyx doing that dance is something I will never forget.

As time went on, I crept closer and closer to the stage. I hesitated at halfway, I could see him clearly from here, and getting any closer could send me over the edge. The performance finished and his eyes raked the audience. Those gorgeous orbs met my eyes, and he motioned me to come and talk to him. I started walking towards the stage slowly, thinking it might take him a while to go around the back. But he simply jumped down, before being attacked by a group of girls.

I froze.

He wasn't mine. He never would be.

The fact was more true now than ever before

Every time his beauty appeared before me, it gave me false hope.

And every time I realised once again that he wasn't mine...

... A tiny piece of my heart died.

Fairly soon there would be nothing left.

Once more. I told myself. Once more I would revel in his beauty, then I would leave, never look at him again.

Maybe, just maybe, I would heal one day.

I caressed him with one last lingering look, then I ran. I turned tail and sprinted from the hall. I ignored the burning of my muscles as I raced towards home. No-one was there at the moment. My parents were away on a business trip. I could fall to pieces privately.

I threw myself at the door, collapsing against it and fumbling for the key. When I finally got the door open, I fell down on the cold tiles, kicking the door shut behind me. I sobbed a little, before getting up and racing towards my room. At first I picked up my normal pen, then I realised that if this was going to be the final time, I wanted it to last.

When I had found my weapon of choice, an electric blue, fine tipped, permanent marker, I pulled off my shirt and started to draw.

I started on my arm, but it didn't stop there. I was flexible, and intricate loops and curves swirled across my shoulders, they flowed down my back, cascaded down my chest. I couldn't stop. Tears dripped down my chin.

"Good bye."

I whispered those words over and over again.

I never wanted this to end, but it did. I dragged a baggy hoodie on to cover the marks I'd made, and fell down onto my bed. Broken sobs shook my chest. Over and over again, I whispered his name, knowing that this would be the last time I could.

I have no idea how long I laid there. But eventually (or not), something caught my attention. Voices. There was a knock on my door. In a trance-like state, I rose, walked over and opened it.

No

Demyx stood there, his beautiful face marred by worry. That look only deepened as he took in my tear-streaked face and dead eyes.

"Zexi, what's wron-"

"NO!" I screamed, my eyes widening like saucers and shaking hands slamming the door before I sunk down in front of it.

He's not mine. He's not mine.

"Zexion! What's going on?"

He's not mine. He's not mine.

"Zexion, please?"

I owed him some sort of explanation.

I moved away from the door and opened it a crack, peering through with one eye.

"I'm sorry Demyx, but you're not mine. Please just le-"

But he'd already pushed his way through.

"What do you mean, 'I'm not yours'?" he asked in that beautiful voice.

"You don't feel for me the same way I feel for you, that's gonna hurt you. Which means I'm hurting you. You don't belong with me-"

"Shut up."

His eyes were dark, but I continued, I had to make him understand.

"-and my heart dies a little every time I realise that and-"

"I said, shut up."

"-I can't keep going on like this 'cause soon, my heart's gonna be fully dead and-"

"SHUT UP!" he roared, I carried on.

"-then I wouldn't be able to love you at all and that would kill me!"

"How could you say I don't feel the same way." he murmured. His head was so close to mine. "How do you know how I feel?"

"You- how- what!"

What did he mean?

"Don't say I don't love you baby, 'cause I do." he breathed, almost singing.

Surprisingly, my mind switched off before he kissed me.

I wrapped my arms around him, hands running over his firm muscles. His fingers threaded through my hair.

"Can't hug you properly in this." he said, breaking away for a mere moment. He reached down, and started pulling my baggy distorting hoodie over my head. I complied, how could I deny this angel anything he wanted?

Now his cool fingers ran over my back. He looked down, pausing

That's when I realised.

He could see my skin.

I pulled myself from his grasp and stood with my back to him.

"Zexi? What's all this?"

His fingers traced the patterns, the patterns that were him.

"It's you, how you make me feel. It would hurt me too much to keep it all inside."

I hoped he wouldn't need anymore explaining than that.

"All, of this, is me?" his voice was soft, awe struck. I nodded and turned to look at him.

He placed a finger under my chin, tilting my face upwards.

"This is me too."

End Note: Yes, I know, utterly bizarre. But I just got so tired of Zexion cutting fics (not that there aren't some great ones out there - Please don't hurt me!) and my brain is retardedly weird. Inspired by my favourite pen. And slightly by experience, I draw all over myself when I'm stress or worried.

For some reason, I've always seen the hoodie he's wearing (or not wearing) at the end as this odd, light, purply-blue colour. Just thought you might want to know that...

To Bu: I know I said you could be my beta'er, but I was really eager to post this. (And I wanted to surprise you)

Cookies to all those who notice my really lame joke, and tell me so in a review -HintHint-