There is graphic rape in this story. If this offends you please hit the back button. You are warned. Italics signal a flashback.

Zexion let his dark gray eyes slide over the white ceiling above him in contemplation. What was the purpose of the tiny grains they added into the paint, he wondered. Who had decided that a popcorn ceiling was aesthetically pleasing? Zexion had spent the last two hours noticing the simple and mundane things he had previously ignored, inside his dorm room. He hadn't let himself think about anything more difficult than inconsistent decorating decisions.

The slate-haired teenager inhaled deeply through his nose and shifted ever-so-slightly where he lay in his bed. The sharp pain that resulted made him exhale the breath sharply and snap his eyes closed, no one was around to see his weakness. He lay flat on his back on his single bed, ankles loosely crossed and his hands lying on top of his chest staring straight up. He considered that perhaps turning onto his side, while causing another flare up might be less painful overall. The residual aches had not yet dissipated from earlier that evening.

Decision made, Zexion slowly twisted his body to rest on his right side, facing out into the small room. He had to take a few breaths before being able to block out the daggers stabbing down his spine and across his ribs, his only fortune was not suffering an injury to his face. The nineteen-year-old had no plans on telling his obnoxious roommate or anyone else, what had happened to him. Ever.

The long stripes of hair that normally covered his right eye, gravity had shifted to lay amongst the rest of the dark silver strands fanning out over his pillow, blending in to the dark color. Vision uncharacteristically unobstructed, his gaze roamed over the empty bed situated opposite of his own. He blinked at the sitar case sitting on top of the unmade single, it was a rare occurrence Demyx left it behind. Tilting his head, he caught sight of the angry bruises formed around his wrists and the red flush his skin still held. Intellectually curious, he lazily ran his right hand over his left forearm feeling the dryness and inspecting the pattern of what looked like a rash. Scalding hot water apparently could cause lasting damage.

Zexion nearly fell through the door as he opened it and quickly turned to slam it shut. He shoulders shaking in soundless sobs he leaned his forehead against the wooden frame and shut his eyes in misery. He had walked by no one on his way up through the dorm, no one had seen what he was reduced to. Silent tears poured out of his eyes no matter how hard he willed them to stop. Disgust was a living, breathing entity inside his chest, self-loathing clawed up his throat threatening suffocation.

Zexion pulled away from the door and had to pause as he swayed suddenly lightheaded. He clenched his eyes shut and brought his palms up to press against them, hoping sheer force would stop himself weeping. It was unacceptable to be so emotional. The burning, aching, ruthless stabbing pain was making it difficult to focus. A shower, that's what he needed. Intent set upon, Zexion pulled his hands away from his eyes and turned his body towards the bathroom. There was a reason he had chosen an expensive college that allowed each room to have a private bathroom attached.

Legs shaking, he limped his way across the short distance and leaned against the door to shut it behind him. Bleary white tile greeted red eyes and he rubbed them again harshly to dispel the unwanted moisture. Zexion bent with a hiss to tug an ugly green towel out from under the sink, one of his roommate's, he noticed distantly. He began the arduous task of removing his clothes, grasping the hem of his black hoodie and closing his eyes, he slowly brought his arms up to tug it off. Stretching his ribs out made his breath catch, and he let it fall out of his hands at the top of his stretch, before dropping his arms with haste. Not looking down, he toed off both shoes and stepped over them, making sure not to lift his leg higher than necessary. Hands quivering with adrenaline, that had to dissipate soon, he thumbed open his jeans and drew the zipper down. The slate-haired teen carefully tucked his index fingers under the waistline of his pants and boxers, wanting to be done with it in one move. He inched his hands down over slim hips and let gravity take the rest, his wallet and heavy chain helping the process. He glanced down and pretended not to notice the blood stains as he stepped out of his discarded clothes.

Zexion stepped forward trying not to shift more than he had to, and flipped the hot water on, leaving the cold turned off. He briefly debated the pros and cons of jumping over the edge of the tub quickly to be done with it, or more of the same slow procession. He decided the hot water would beat any added pain out of his system, so he hastily picked over the foot-high wall and snapped the curtain closed. The scalding heat emitting from the pounding water was equal to the burning spike of pain that shot through his lower half. Gasping, he titled the nozzle so he could lean forward against the wall and have the spray reach from his neck down. The heat was nearly unbearable, but it helped the feeling of needing to crawl out of his own skin.

The teen had stayed in the shower until the hot water had run out, and only when Zexion was shivering with cold did he relent to turn off the water. He had dried himself gingerly and dressed into loose fitting, pajama pants and an oversized tee-shirt. He had concentrated only on limping to his bed and settling himself as comfortably as possible. He hadn't moved since.

Zexion wondered whether Demyx kept any lotion at hand, to put over his arms at least. His skin was very pale and delicate and had not taken well to being subjected to his burning shower. The discomfort of skin pulled tight bothered him more in a way, than the rest of his injuries. Dark orbs scanned the rest of the opposite side of the room, locating a tall bottle of Curel on Demyx's bedside table. He slid his hands under his side to push his upper body into a sloped sitting position. His body was in no shape to hold him sitting upright at the moment. Zexion almost swung his legs over the side of his bed before he realized, he would not be able to apply the lotion to his back, which was the most in need of attention. He cursed and lay back down.

Hurried footsteps from down the hall sounded in his ears suddenly and he knew without a doubt his roommate had returned from his evening class. The door opened only seconds later to admit a panting blonde, swinging his backpack haphazardly with a cheerful look on his face. Blue orbs were wide with expression as usual, and the small amount of gel Demyx used in his hair glittered distractedly in the fluorescent light.

"Hey Zexion!" He greeted happily.

Demyx tossed his backpack on the floor and dropped onto his computer chair, shoving the mouse to make his computer wake up. The other male had yet to actually take note of his roommate's appearance, instead he hummed to himself while moving around at his desk. After a few minutes, the blonde finally glanced over his shoulder because generally at this point, his quieter counterpart would insist he shut up. It took only moments for Demyx to fall silent and his brows crease in concern.

"Zexion? Hey, are you okay?" He asked.

Zexion closed his eyes and subtly moved his hands to rest under his pillow so Demyx wouldn't see the angry bruises clearly visible on his creamy wrists. He would have rolled over to show the blonde his back but he feared doing so would make his pain obvious, despite his formidable self-control.

"I am fine." The slate-haired boy said through clenched teeth.

Demyx would assume he was merely in anther one of his 'moods' and leave him be. Zexion underestimated the good-nature of his roommate. The blond boy stood up cautiously and stepped across the twelve feet separating their beds to look down at the other boy. Demyx slowly bent down and placed his hand on Zexion's shoulder intent on repeating his question.

The instant he registered the physical contact Zexion shot up and away from the other to curl against the foot of the bed, dark eyes shot wide with fear, pupils dilated.

"Don't touch me!" He all but shrieked, voice cracking.

Demyx's hands came up quickly in surrender, his own eyes wide with astonishment, mouth partway open in apology. Zexion had the notion, not for the first time in the past several hours, to throw himself out of their fourth story window. He had all but screamed to the other teen that something was indeed very wrong. Demyx knew him to be intellectual, controlled and quiet. Everything he was the opposite of at this exact moment. He couldn't help but wrap his arms around himself trying to squash the feeling of being touched. His eyes closed as the disgust rolled through him and the humiliation stung once more.

"Zex? I'm sorry . . . I didn't mean . . ." Demyx said softly, clearly worried about frightening him further.

"It's fine." Zexion said firmly, trying to sound normal.

He could feel Demyx's stare and forced his eyes open, before slowly uncurling his body. He was at a loss of how to explain his sudden reaction, the blond had never seen him act like that in the six months they'd known each other. Zexion couldn't meet his eyes, but kept his gaze firmly on the bedspread. Peripherally, he saw Demyx ease down to sit on the other end of his bed, the three feet of space was much too close for comfort.

"Did something happen?" Demyx asked carefully.

Why now of all times did the annoying blonde have to become insightful? He shook his head in denial and shifted his legs around so he could lean against the wall and ease the ache from his backside. Demyx looked doubtful and bright blue eyes scanned over him, making Zexion feel even more trapped. The blonde let out a gasp when he caught sight of the bruises.

"Who did that to you?" He exclaimed, anger starting to color his tone.

"No one, nothing happened." Zexion said dully.

Zexion was walking back to campus after he got off work at the small diner downtown. Two men around his age if not slightly older were loitering in an alley entrance, Zexion hadn't paid them any mind. He heard nothing behind him, simply felt two hands grab hold of him and he was swung off the sidewalk, into the alley and slammed against the wall. A pained exclamation escaped him before one of the male's flicked out a switchblade and held it up to his throat.

"Not a word." He growled quietly.

Amid Zexion's soundless whimpers, the two men had dragged him further away from the crowded street and ducked behind a large dumpster. They threw him onto the rough cement and one crouched down to take tight hold of his wrists, nearly cutting off circulation. The other made quick work of dispatching the clothes covering his lower half. He didn't know what happened to the knife but he couldn't help making gasping pleas. The dark one finished stripping him and stood up. His boot lashed out and caught Zexion in the side once, twice, thrice and the boy stopped struggling.

He shut his eyes tightly and panted with fear and adrenaline, hoping anyone in existence would come down the alley to help him. No such luck, he heard the man unzipping his jeans and turned his face away in despair.

"Turn him over." His assailant hissed to the other.

The brunette holding his wrists lifted his upper body off the pavement and twisted viciously, Zexion gave a soft cry as his skin was scraped and quickly turned the rest of the way over to save himself. Tears burned his eyelids and he felt outside himself, wanted to be outside of himself. Rough hands ran over the back of his thighs and he held his breath in terror of the oncoming violation. The man took a harsh grip of his hips and the next second, excruciating pain blossomed and ran up his spine. Zexion screamed.

"Shut up!" A voice snarled into his ear.

He was distantly aware of feeling the metal blade of the knife pressed against his skin once more, with more effort than he had ever exorcised Zexion made himself quiet. He focused on the gritty texture of the asphalt under his chest where his hoodie rode up and heard the man inside him give a grunt of satisfaction. The man pulled away and thrust again, quickly starting a hard fast-paced rhythm. Whimpering quietly Zexion lay still as the man abused his body. He didn't even feel the grip on his arms anymore, that pain was nothing in comparison.

Stretched beyond tolerance, Zexion could only count the thrusts made into his unwilling body by his assailant. Some detached, clinical part of him keeping enough control of his mind to give him something to focus on, sick as it was. The brunette leaned over his head to speak quietly in his ear, all the things he himself wanted to do to the teen. He shuddered.

The man raping him brutally finally stilled, pulling away suddenly. The extraction was nearly as painful as the first, forceful penetration. Zexion gave a soft cry and the tears finally spilled down his cheeks in shame. The other released his wrists and quickly shifted over behind him. He shook his head pleadingly, one was already more than he could bear. They paid no mind to him, the brunette thrusting in without preamble. His torn entrance was already bloody from the first rape, it provided small lubrication for the second. This knowledge had Zexion forcing himself not to retch. He barely noticed the first man take up hold on his thin wrists again, he could only endure at this point.

The second rape seemed to take longer than the first, it might have been because the burning pain was more intense after the previous violation. He had no way of knowing accurately. Their panting breath was loud in the otherwise silent alley, he would remember the tone of their groans and hate himself for it. Pain, disgust, shame, humiliation, shock, anger, fear, despair, every emotion he felt was heightened tenfold whenever the brunette's hips met his. Zexion was naturally more unemotional than most, this outpouring was more than his psyche could take at once.

The man inside him followed the same pattern the first one had, he jerked out of his body and this time he could hear the moan of completion. Zexion was positive his skin rippled with his revulsion. The men shared a few words between themselves, but their words had no meaning to the battered teen. He lay absolutely still, unsure of whether or not he wanted them to kill him. It may be easier in some ways. The decision was not his, the first man bent down to warn harshly that Zexion better not tell anyone. Even without the threat the boy felt no such compunctions.

He heard the two men walk away quickly, but Zexion continued to lie still until he could breath without sobbing. It was a while before the slate-haired teen could drag himself to his feet and put his clothes back on. Wiping his face with his sleeve, he slowly made his way limping back home.

There was nothing in existence that could make Zexion relate this story to his roommate. He couldn't even call the blonde his friend, he held him at arm's length like everyone else. He was a solitary creature, preferring his books to people and saw no reason to change this, now more than ever totally distrustful of other humans.

"Zexion," Demyx said patiently.

The blonde moved closer again and he swept off the bed and backed away with a murmur. Pain laced up his spine again, but he kept his features schooled so it didn't show. He was strong enough for this, hadn't he spent years controlling his expression? Demyx floundered and stood up with him.

"Why do you insist on butting into my business?" Zexion snapped coldly.

The slate-haired boy kept his posture rigid and exhaled sharply, from his own pain but it added to his irritated expression. Demyx's brow creased in confusion and some annoyance all his own.

"Why do you always push me away? I only want to be friends, ya know. It wouldn't hurt you." He huffed.

Zexion watched him coolly, cursing the other for making this more difficult for him. It would have been a relief perhaps to explain the situation, have a shoulder to cry on, another soul to care about the abuse he suffered, even someone to help tend to his injuries. That person didn't exist for Zexion, even if they had he would not pick this lazy musician for such a person in his life. He shook his head, the long bangs on his right side curling his chin.

Demyx's frown deepened and he strode forward with purpose. Zexion gave a fearful whimper and backed himself into the wall. The blonde was taken aback at this and it only firmed his resolve that something drastic had happened to his anti-social roommate. Demyx was a few inches taller than himself and it only served to unnerve him further. His hands came up of their own accord, held in front of himself weakly.

"Don't." He whispered, voice shaking.

All of his control was shot. Those two men had destroyed any sense of self Zexion had claimed. Rigid self-control that no one could disrupt, all his confidence, flawless monotone expressions, Zexion was none of those things any longer. The loss was an added blow and his self-hatred increased steadily. He glanced up at the blonde feeling defeat.

Demyx noticed the dead look in the teen's gray eyes with dread, none-the-less he gently reached out to take a hold of Zexion's hand and pulled his arm towards himself. The near black bruise along delicate wrists was fresh, while at first glance it seemed like one large mark, blue eyes made a closer inspection and Demyx could just make out separation between black and pale skin, exactly the width of fingers. Anger was quick to make its presence known in his system. Who had dared hurt his friend? Whom he cared about a great deal, was romantically interested in without requital?

Demyx wasn't normally the most observant of students, but had caught the way Zexion limped when he moved. His eyes trailed over the frail form that was pinned against the wall and felt ice slide into his chest.

"Please tell me . . ." He begged softly.

Zexion made no sound. He was frozen into place, staring up at the other, hoping desperately he would be unable to guess. He knew reasonably that Demyx would not hurt him, knew this firmly in fact. It did not stop his body's reaction to their proximity, physically he remembered all too clearly the devastating pain another male could cause. He needed more space between them. Zexion tried to move to the side but Demyx dropped his hand and placed both arms against the wall, caging him between them.

"I get that I'm scaring you Zex, and I'm sorry. I swear I won't hurt you. You've gotta tell me though. . . were you . . . raped?" The blonde stuttered over the last words looking sick and hoping the other boy would prove him wrong.

Instead, at his words Zexion's eyes rolled and he quickly had to wrap his arms around the boy's waist to keep him from falling to the floor. Demyx could see the white's of his eyes and heard him muttering something with fear lacing his words. He wasn't sure if the other had passed out or was having some sort of fit, but he shifted down to lift the boy into his arms. Demyx quickly sat down on his own bed, keeping Zexion on his lap and tucked his head against his shoulder, under his chin. He wrapped his arms snugly around the smaller teen and made soothing sounds.

Zexion wasn't sure why he suddenly was no longer standing. He knew his roommate had said something but he had felt his body seize and shock and instinct had taken over. He felt warm oddly enough, the position was uncomfortable on his aches but really they hadn't ever left. He blinked open his eyes and his muscles tightened in natural response. The arms around him were tighter than he could break out of, although they weren't painful. He took a few quick breaths before realizing Demyx was speaking soft words in his ear in a soothing manner.

"You awake again? You scared me there, I didn't know you could pass out like that. I'm gonna go ahead and assume by that reaction, that I was right. I won't say it to you again, don't worry." He was nearly rambling but it was with a quiet tone so Zexion didn't feel the need to cry out.

"Please let go." He asked instead.

He could imagine the chest he rested against pulling behind him, the hands resting on his back running down his bare legs, grasping painfully at his hips. His body shook and he made a soft sound of distress.

"Okay, okay easy! Please calm down, Zexion. I'm not going to hurt you!" Demyx's voice broke helplessly.

The friendly blonde couldn't stand that the other was so afraid of him. He was stubborn enough to keep him in his arms though. Demyx knew Zexion would have to face this and he was worried he was so closed-off he might hurt himself. He decided he would help the older teen through it, whether he really wanted him to or not. Some people just couldn't ask for help.

"You don't understand! You need to let me go!" Zexion thrashed in his hold, reduced to fight or flight instinct as his fear expanded.

Demyx gathered the slate-haired boy closer to himself and kept his hold firm. He would never hurt the teen he nearly-loved. Zexion was the safest he ever would be at the moment, he just needed to realize it. Zexion started to sob in frustration, he never wanted the other to see him like this. The humiliation was increasing past any tolerance, he would never forgive himself for this fit, but there was no winning against the taller, stronger teen. Zexion finally let his head drop in defeat, tears pouring ruthlessly. He made no further movement to retreat from the embrace.

The two not-quite friends sat there, one holding the other for a long time. It signaled a heartbreaking truth for one, a devastating, forcible change in the other. Neither would speak of the incident again, nor would they ever forget it.

It's up to you whether you think they got together after this. This is way darker than anything I've ever done, so I would really appreciate some feedback. Constructive criticism is welcome.