A/N: New chapter. Finally got this going again. Sorry for the wait, and enjoy!
It had been a month since my dramatic collapse in Vexen's lab. As I lay on my bed and tangled my fingers in my considerably shorter-than-before hair, I thought back at what had happened. Most of the time I simply tried to forget, you can't deny this Castle was the perfect place for that, but on days like this….
I sighed, and looked in the mirror once more. I still wore bandages around my neck, and my hair now barely reached my earlobes. Surgery. Vexen said it had been necessary if I wanted to exist on- had he deliberately not used the word "live"?
In any case, the frostbite on my neck and chest had been really bad, and I seem to have been out for at least a week.
It wasn't my fault. I had done nothing wrong.
As much as I kept telling myself, I still would not believe it. If only I had, what if I hadn't… Do I even deserve this position as Lord of Oblivion? Of course, Xemnas had given it me. Xemnas. That foolish bastard who would help us all into nothingness. Kingdom Hearts, hah! Even the idea was ridiculous.
And yet.
I'd seen it, two nights ago. It was small, and if one didn't know, one might've thought it was simply the moon- but it wasn't. This moon had a heart shape. This moon had a heartbeat. That maniac Superior had actually managed to get Kingdom Hearts started, fragile as it may be.
The door to my bedroom clicked and opened, and I did not even have to look up to know who it was. It was two past three, every day, that he came to check up on my wounds.
"Check-up", he said, as if that would excuse his rudeness and lack of knocking.
I sat up, began to untie the bandages, and undressed. If only he did the check-ups because he cared. If only he did them because he pretended to care. Of course not. If I were to face Xemnas with frostbite all over me, he'd be executed for mutiny. It would serve him damned right.
But I never faced Xemnas with the frostbite all over me. I let others, dusks even, go in my place, or simply did not show up. Xemnas was not amused. I did not care and he knew. I knew he did. What did it matter? I do my job well and he has nothing to complain about- so he does not complain. Sometimes we understand each other, the Superior and I.
I felt Vexen's fingers touching my scarred skin. He lifted my chin up to see it better. Nowadays, he simply let it heal on it's own. The treatment had been intense and painful, but I had to admit it had worked. There were few scars left and even those were fading.
"Vexen." My voice sounded empty, hollow in the confines of my bedroom.
"Yes." He simply answered, without even looking me in the eye.
"You're cold."
"I always am."
"Don't do that, it hurts."
"Don't be such a whiner, Marluxia."
"I mean it."
"…..Oh."
He finally looked at me, his expression still serious as before. I glared back, but my eyes had lost their former fire. I vaguely remembered times when I found annoying Vexen amusing. Now, I did not enjoy anything at all.
It had been a month since my dramatic collapse. It had been three weeks of mental and physical abuse.
Vexen knew I was helpless. Vexen knew I would die without him. He knew he could do whatever he wanted.
I cared, the first time. I felt sadness and pain and fear and disgust and shame. Or, I thought I felt it. The second time, it was not so bad. It was not so forced, either.
Three weeks later I had stopped caring completely. It was as if even this non-existence had lost it's purpose like I had lost my hair. I wondered if it would grow back. I did not age, so I assumed not.
Cut. Forever gone.
"Check-up" He said. I undressed myself.
It had been a month and a week. The door clicked and he came in again. It was two past three.
My hands found the zipper of my coat, and I tried to pull it down. Suddenly he was before me, and held back my hand. I looked at him, questioning, amazement being the first "emotion" I had displayed in weeks.
"Look at yourself, Marluxia."
He led me to the large mirror on the opposite side of the room. What I saw there, was not what I had seen yesterday.
My hair, like a magnificent waterfall, down on my shoulders again. My neck soft and scar-free. Glimmer in my eyes. I felt proud.
"How?" I asked him. He smiled. I made a note to remember that gesture for the rest of my non-existence.
"You wouldn't understand." He stroked my hair. It was silent for a while.
When we looked at each other again, we spoke simultaneously.
"Thank you, for all this"-"I'm glad you're okay again"
I looked away. I felt awkward. So did he, apparently.
Not much later, his lips were on mine. I did not mind.
Actually, I did not mind at all.