A/N: This is something I wrote a whole year ago. I started it after Christmas back in 2008 and almost finished it, but for some reason I just tucked it away with the rest of my unfinished fanfiction and forgot about it. I dug it out a while ago and finally wrote an ending. I don't like it - the whole ficlet - for some reason, but I had to finish it, so now it's done. I don't even know how I found that song, but the lyrics were the inspiration. And yet, I've never even listened to it.

One day, I'll learn how to write something other than angst.

And one day, I'll learn how to use this place. I deleted this story three times to get the spaces and everything right, and it's still a mess. I just gave up.

Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts © Tetsuya Nomura, I don't trust me © Dolly Parton

Don't trust me

They had known each other for the longest time - before he'd gotten the job, really. They hadn't been friends, just acquaintances, but they would've recognized each other's faces in the biggest of crowds. Their eyes never failed to connect when they met on the street, those pools of liquid sapphire and hues of heavy rain. They had a thing for each other; it was something anyone could see. But Zexion and Demyx both kept to themselves, their smiles polite, the distance between them one step too wide.

They never acted on it, on the tension that lived in their encounters. When Demyx's manager found out that the young, promising singer had a friend who was good with technology, he was hired immediately. That was when they took yet another step away from each other and were forced to behave. Zexion was the one who guaranteed Demyx's safety with all those devices, and couldn't afford being distracted by anything. So neither one of them ever said anything, but stayed in their respective roles, only watching from afar.

In a way, they were both satisfied. Demyx built a magnificent career and Zexion was happy witnessing it. He got to be close to the dazzling blonde at all times - what more could he ask for? It was his job to make sure the singer was safe and sound, and even if it occasionally felt like confiscating Demyx into a bubble and shutting the world out, he never once failed to perform his duties because the man always smiled at him.
Zexion wasn't a bodyguard, not with his thin, lithe figure. He carried guns, but those were only for extreme measures. No, he checked every stage Demyx performed on, wired his clothes with tracking devices or miniature microphones and kept check of everyone who wanted to have a private moment with the man.
Simply put, Zexion held the strings of security.

And he knew exactly what string to pull if things got out of hand. He always had back-up security close by, he knew the tricks of how to keep unwanted people out of Demyx's sight and the way to make any room secure enough for the performer to stay in. Zexion was always in control of everything and never failed to lose his calm. Cool and collected, the quite fragile-looking man always spoke with an even tone and his expression rarely altered from its usual, polite seriousness.
"Never trust anyone." He told the musician, over and over. "And you won't get hurt."
"But I trust you." Was Demyx's answer, along with that quiet smile in his eyes. Every time, Zexion shook his head and repeated his command.
It had to be like that.

Zexion had to keep himself in control in order to keep all the strings in his hands. It was hard and it was frustrating; a smile wider than usual, a brush of fingers against his arm, a glimpse of a lean back as he closed the door after bidding Demyx a safe night. It all haunted him later, in his hidden thoughts and heated dreams, making him wake up with a strong shudder in his sweat-soaked sheets. There were days when he had to dig his nails into his palms and avoid those blue eyes to keep himself from doing something he'd regret later. Because they could never be; it had the irony of a fairytale. The guard and the grandstander – they were from completely different worlds and Demyx's life depended on Zexion.
It was a lost battle from the beginning.

That was why Zexion fell in the end. He couldn't take it anymore, couldn't stand being so close to Demyx every single day without having him. He met a girl, made himself smile, forced himself to be funny, polite and gentle; all those things he knew would be appreciated. He made himself propose in that little, cosy restaurant and embrace her when she agreed with tears of happiness in her eyes. He compelled himself to say those two words at the altar which were the hardest ones he'd ever spoken, he built a façade of happiness onto his face in front of all those relatives and his brand new wife when she slipped out of her wedding dress and gave him a seductive look.
Somewhere in the middle, he might've even believed it himself.

At the same time, he resigned after making sure there was someone to cover up his spot as Demyx's main security chief. The bloke wasn't quite as witty as he was, but he had the talent to be better and Zexion was contented. He bid Demyx farewell with that usual expression of his and a polite bow, just like he always did. And even if he swore afterwards that he hadn't let his eyes meet the blonde's, he could still remember the way those blue hues had glistened like diamonds, tears trapped behind the mask of a plastic smile.

You're standing much too close to me again.
I've never once touched you,
but in my mind I've already sinned.
You're making it hard for me to be true.
I don't trust me around you.

Some months after his first child was born, Zexion heard Demyx had put an end to his career. Mourning swept over him upon hearing the news; the blonde really was greatly talented, both with that peculiar sitar of his and such a blessed voice. There were rumours about illness and age, even something about the want to settle down, but Zexion decided not to care. It wasn't his decision and had nothing to do with him, so it was none of his business. He had a family to take care of and more important things to concentrate on.
It hadn't been hard to find a new job – quitting as a famous artist's chief of security gave him easy access to the very same spot for another star of the same rank. The tasks were the same and changed nothing in his routine, but the wicked smiles, innocent touches and tempting glances were gone. Zexion wanted to attain peace of mind and without Demyx around all the time, he was sure to find it.

Yet, doubt crept into his mind, little by little. The dreams never stopped completely, even if they came less regularly. When Demyx's retirement from the music business became old news, Zexion made an attempt to forget about the gorgeous blonde once and for all. It failed miserably as he was shaken awake one night by his wife, worry splashed over her features as she asked if everything was alright. It had sounded like Zexion would've had the most awful nightmare, judging by his moans and gasps and the way he'd writhed and gripped the sheets in his sleep. Zexion murmured sweet, soothing nothings to her and spent thirty minutes in the bathroom, wondering what was wrong with him.

Forgetting proved to be even harder when he caught a glimpse of those somehow familiar blue eyes on the street one day. Zexion halted in his steps, amazement and surprise written over his usually unreadable face as he followed Demyx from the other side of the street. The man's posture was slumped and tired, his hair hanging lazily in strands of faded gold, that striking faux-mohawk nowhere to be seen. And yet, even if he hadn't changed a bit, something wasn't right about him.
It took another sighting to make him understand. Zexion was on his way home after a long day of work when he spotted Demyx, looking just like he had last time. That was when it hit him. It was the eyes. Those fascinating Caribbean Sea lagoons had dried out and frozen. What he saw were two blocks of ice, rough around the edges, shattered and cracking. It was as if life itself had been drained from Demyx's look, like death had fed on it. Now it seemed like there was nothing left of that spicy, kind, animated person the singer had been.

After that, Zexion started feeling uneasy whenever he saw Demyx around. He'd quicken his pace, speed up his steps and pass him on the street or avoid looking at him altogether. He didn't want to see what had become of the Demyx he'd once known and still loved. He wanted to fix the man and kill whatever had made him fall to pieces like this. It was harder than anything, forbidding himself to reach out and just embrace the broken figure the blonde had become. Yet he did just that, knowing anything else would surely destroy them both.

It wore Zexion out, especially when Demyx seemed to be everywhere. He saw him on an almost daily basis, catching a glimpse of blonde hair or faded ultramarine eyes. Occasionally he swore he'd just made up the man who'd disappeared into the crowd, that it had just been a hallucination. On those days, Zexion questioned his sanity.
But he never questioned his feelings.

Seems like every place I go
I'll see you there.
I can't keep my eyes off you,
I just stand and stare.
You tempt me more than anyone I ever knew;
I don't trust me around you.

Perhaps that was why Zexion took the offered job. He was tired of running from Demyx and falling asleep to those same dreams he'd had ever since he'd met the blonde, tired of wanting what he couldn't have. So when he received a phone call one day, his old employer on the other end of the line, asking whether he'd be interested in one more gig with his old group, he accepted it.
Apparently Demyx was holding one more concert. It'd already been more than two years since the singer had announced he was quitting, but his manager had talked him into performing once more. A farewell show of sorts, the man told him, and a big one, so they needed all the security they could get. And quite frankly, they knew no one better than Zexion.

So, deciding that this was his chance to set everything straight, Zexion agreed to the job. It led to a nearly sleepless fortnight, during which he wondered whether it all really was a good idea. The way the singer wouldn't leave his thoughts for one second was frustrating, especially when a part of him was pleased with how things were. In the end he decided it would be for the best to go through with the job – perhaps he'd get a chance to discuss with Demyx and find out what had made the man fall from his former glory.
All would be well, if he managed to contain himself.

The dreams grew worse as days slipped by. Zexion constantly awoke panting, the image of the musician's beautifully arched body fresh in his memory, inviting, tempting. Every night, Zexion got out of bed and sat on the cold, tiled surface of the bathroom floor until the ghost fingers vanished from his skin and the sweetness of the most gentle kiss was gone from his dry lips. These were thoughts and moments he kept to himself, ones he treasured and loathed at the same time. He would never let himself enjoy them fully, he could never do such a thing, and yet he found him trusting himself less by the day.
Zexion might've loved Demyx, but he hadn't been there in time to claim the man before fame had done that right in front of his eyes. And now he had a wife and children, and if anything, Zexion had pride – he wouldn't leave three people for one, not even when it made himself miserable.

With this in mind, trying to collect himself and find that control he'd had for several years, Zexion was prepared to face Demyx on the night of the show. He would ask the blonde why he looked so terrible nowadays and hopefully drive him out of his thoughts at the same time. No more dreams, no more ponderings, no more meaningless wishes.
He would never admit how melancholic the thought made him feel.

Zexion was ready when the concert ended. He stood at the door to Demyx's personal room, the harsh shell of polite strictness written over his features, armed and clad for work. He was prepared to face the beaten, crawling, utterly depressed man he'd seen on the streets on so many occasions. His face showed nothing of the aching in his chest, his formal suit hid the arms that wanted to wrap around the body he'd eyed so many times, rainy eyes hardened into concrete. He controlled everything and everyone, he was the one in charge and he would remain as such.

Zexion crumbled when Demyx appeared in the hallway, all laughter and wide smiles and adrenaline – the perfect image of his former self. Strands of pure gold were clutching to his elegant neck, having escaped the wild hair-do he'd worn all those years. Sweat glistened on smooth alabaster skin, mixing with droplets of water. It seemed like Demyx still emptied one of those bottles onto himself on stage, because even his top was soaked.
But the man didn't seem to care. His smile was wider than Zexion recalled seeing it ever before and his voice was lighter and deeper at the same time, and oh so soft. It was like a ghost from the past had come to life, stepped out of one of his dreams and appeared in front of him.

The same look crossed Demyx's face when he finally realized who it was, standing at his door. His laughter faded for a moment, fragments of a cloudless sky looking down at him, as wide and untouched by the weight of the world as always.
And then that smile was back, and it reached Demyx's eyes in a way that made Zexion's lips part silently. They glistened with the intensity of a thousand jewels and yet they were smooth like the surface of a lake on a calm day. There was nothing more beautiful in this world. Zexion knew it and he had to have to for himself.

Demyx just laughed when he was pushed into the room, the lock clicking into place behind him. That melodic sound didn't quiet down when Zexion pushed him against a wall, grey eyes melting at the sight of the gorgeous being in front of him, his heart silencing all efforts his mind was making to stop the insanity he was about to go through with. The bubbly tones of liquid life stopped first when they were consumed by Zexion's lips, hungry and demanding, and finally where they should've been for ages.

I don't trust me around you.
I belong to someone else.
Not once have I been untrue,
but when I'm close to you this way
I find myself wanting to.
I don't trust me around you.

From that point on, it was a different song. Demyx's chuckles turned into surprised gasps and long moans, throaty whispers and the occasional hiss of anticipation. The blonde was filled with sounds Zexion had yet to hear, ones he'd never caught during the hours of listening to the man play and sing for an audience he really didn't belong in, and they were all so much better than any song. Equally heated and thick with the longing that had lived in both of their hearts, Demyx filled the room with a melody for just the two of them, one Zexion would remember until his very death.

Demyx tasted just like Zexion imagined he would. He devoured the almost sugary lips with both hasty and slow kisses, deep and feathery light, wanting everything at once. The scent of the singer was one of familiarity and mysteries at the same time, salty like the sea, but with a depth in the fragrance he couldn't quite grasp. The feeling of the blonde's skin under his fingertips was like the smoothness of water for parched hands, it was silk and mohair and velvet all at once. Demyx was everything he'd wanted, needed and lusted for, and yet he was so much more. He was the heartbeat in Zexion's ears, the rhythm of their bodies, the pleasant flutter in his abdomen. And in the end, he was that last part in the shattered image, the missing piece of the puzzle, the lost fragment of his soul. Together, they were complete.

This was what Demyx told him afterwards, with his arms around Zexion's waist, their bodies tangled in sheets and covers, eyes glazed with the most ecstatic exhaustion. Zexion had been his other half, the soul to his shell.
"You were the only one I trusted. Nothing was ever the same after you left." And even if Zexion couldn't recall having heard Demyx ever speak, rather than sing, it felt like they'd already been over this conversation. "And it never will be."
"I told you that trusting no one would keep you from getting hurt." If Demyx hadn't trusted him, fallen for him like from the roof of a building, there would have been no vicious storm growing in Zexion's chest as they lay there, side by side. And Demyx replied like he always did, making the storm break out once and for all.
"But I trust you."

Zexion pulled back from Demyx's embrace and the blonde let him go. It was clear before anything was said that this would be the end, that there would be nothing more. Too much time had passed since they'd belonged into the same world.
"I won't come back." Zexion's voice was a hoarse whisper, but he swore it echoed in the room as loudly as a shriek. He felt the anxiety of guilt burst from his heart. What had he done to his family with this simple deed? What if Demyx would demand him to stay or threaten to share their little secret with his wife?
"I understand."

Zexion halted at the words, having just buckled his belt. His eyes shifted from harsh steel to molten silver as they examined Demyx's figure, sprawled on his back on the bed. He arched an eyebrow quietly, not having expected such a response. A bitter snicker came from the singer and the man shrugged.
"I know you have a family. A life." He shook his head, his smile quite not filling those blue eyes, jealousy seeping from his voice. "I never expected anything more than this when I asked them to call you. This is a farewell, after all."
The usually clever Zexion, who was quick to understand and cope with any situation, was caught off guard. He stared, his eyes wide, his lips parted in silent words which never surfaced, and Demyx laughed. But this time it was a cold, lifeless laugh, just like the man he'd seen on the street.

"I just had to see you once more, you must understand." The blonde sat up, his divine figure resting on the bed with no tension whatsoever. "It took a while to convince everyone to arrange this concert, but when they realised how much money it'd bring, it wasn't that hard. I wanted to sing one more time before I go."

Zexion had just pulled on his jacket and checked that he had his equipment and all. He was ready to leave, but didn't move as Demyx spoke, standing still in the dimly lit room. The sun had already set and only the artificial lights from the outside world cast stripes of soft yellows and whites onto the walls.
"You're leaving?" He finally managed to ask, his heart suddenly weighing nothing. It was as if it wouldn't even have existed – his chest felt empty, hollow.
"It's for the best." Was Demyx's reply, his eyes hidden in the shadows momentarily as he climbed to his feet, letting the sheets slip from his frame. Zexion tried not to look, did his best to keep his eyes on the singer's face, but he remembered how that body had felt against his. Perfect.

"Maybe it is." Zexion's voice was quiet and even, but uncertainty lived within him. If Demyx travelled away, then perhaps he really would forget. He wouldn't see the blonde around anymore and maybe, maybe the blue eyes would leave him alone. Perhaps he'd never dream of Demyx again, never wake up hot and out of breath after yet another imagined encounter with the person he could never have.
"I know it is." Demyx whispered as he stepped closer, his scent reaching Zexion's senses. The blonde was more gorgeous than ever, shadowed by the night and yet glowing in the neon lights. His sun-kissed skin was softer than any fabric as it slid over the guard's cheek in a gentle caress, instrument-calloused fingers pushing away the strands of hair from Zexion's face, their eyes meeting.

He didn't want Demyx to leave. He didn't want to be left alone, didn't want to wander the streets and not catch a glimpse of the man he adored enough to call it an obsession. He didn't want to sleep through the night without meeting the singer in his dreams. He didn't want to forget.
But he had to.
Their lips met of their own accord and the kiss was filled with such longing that it could've shattered a heart. Zexion let himself indulge in this final farewell, the one thing he'd remember about Demyx. Because no matter where the blonde went, he wouldn't forget, not completely. It was the bittersweet goodbye two lovers shared in the darkness, away from other's eyes and judgement. The taste on Zexion's lip was intoxicatingly sweet and Demyx's hands were gentle as they slid over his body in one, last embrace.

No, I don't trust me around you.

The loud, tearing bang didn't make sense to Zexion, not even when Demyx's legs gave out and he slipped from their kiss, tumbling to the ground. The red roses quickly blooming onto the blonde's chest didn't register in the guard's mind until the sharp, metallic scent of blood hit him. The gun – his gun - in Demyx's hand was cast aside as the blonde reached out for him, making Zexion kneel with panic and horror in his eyes.
"Don't worry." He managed to choke out, his whole figure trembling as the situation finally dawned on him. "I'll call for help, I'll fix this. Don't-"
"No." Demyx's voice wasn't weak, it wasn't hoarse or withering. It was strong and melodic, the tone final and still so gentle. The singer took hold of Zexion's hand, his lips curling up into an honest smile. "Don't."

"But you're-" He couldn't even say it; he could only press his hand to the bleeding, pulsing wound on Demyx's chest, trying to stop the flow of life.
"I'm leaving." Was Demyx's simple answer as he braided his fingers with Zexion's, his hand warm and comforting. "I told you."
"Not like this." Zexion's voice was about to break, his eyes like the most fragile glass. One touch and he would shatter. "Let me fetch help. I'll do anything, but just let me-"
"No." Demyx brought the shaking hand to his lips, the kiss lingering and soft. Was he imagining or was the touch slightly colder than usual? "It has to be like this."

It had been Zexion's job to keep Demyx safe, to shelter him from all harm. All those years ago he'd managed to prevent even the smallest scratch, but now this was all his doing. It was his weapon and it was his love, and even if the finger pulling the trigger hadn't been his, it was enough to make him the culprit. Shame, guilt and hatred filled Zexion as he watched the blue eyes dim slowly, Demyx's breathing turning heavier. Here he was, the beautiful blonde slowly bleeding in his arms, that eternal smile still on the full lips.
"Don't look at me like that." The blonde said, his smile the only thing that remained as strong as ever. "Don't be sad. Another time, in another place, you might not have a family. I'll be there."
"Demyx." Zexion was on the verge of crumbling, a tremor running through his frame as the singer took a deep, shallow breath, the tanned hand almost slipping from his hold.

"Promise me you'll be there to have me." The blue eyes were almost grey now, dull and weak. "In the next life."
"I promise." Anything, anything to make the terrifying situation better and still Zexion knew how it would end.
"Good." The light in Demyx's eyes melted and faded, his whole body relaxing as one more beat of his heart stained Zexion's hand with the remains of his lost life. Nothing but his smile remained as a ghost of a breath left his lips.

"I trust you."