#Temperance ZEX | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jackidy · 4 years

Text

Saturated Sunrise

Rating: G Pairings: Demyx/Ienzo, others implied Characters: Various Setting: Post KH3

Summary: Observations were his thing and, in all honesty, Ienzo was a very interesting person to observe.

---------------------------------------

Ienzo was strange.

Not in a bad way, Demyx thinks, watching the other flip through lab notes for something that he’d explained at least three times already, distracted by far too many things to take in most of the words. How could he not be? Recognisance had always been his forte, few people ever spent too long looking at strange folk with instruments playing for change in the town square, regardless of what world he was observing, it was always the same.

But now…but now he didn’t have an instrument to distract his fingertips, watching how something deeper than annoyance flickered onto Ienzo’s features, eyes break from the hastily scrawled pages of a report to the offended hand before back to his reading, muttering something quietly under his breath.

He’s switched his breathing, in through the nose, out through the mouth. A calming technique. Was Ienzo anxious or something else? Demyx cocking his head to the side as he tried to figure out his new found puzzle. As Zexion, he’d simply fix him a flat stare and sigh to exhibit his annoyance with him, name him a fool and go back to ignoring him but with Ienzo it was different, his reactions more extreme in the short term before simmering off into seemingly nothing.

Demyx wanted to know more.

Wants to know the differences between the two, were they as similar as Axel and Lea or were they the polar opposite, Ienzo had already provided evidence for this. The shock of seeing him and the hesitation to move forward, the way he’d cried when reunited with his father, it was different but good, an unexpected surprise that had only served to hook him in.

Perhaps its selfish to want more, Demyx contemplates, deciding to put his focus elsewhere, the computer he’d more or less draped himself across, the tea stain on Ienzo’s lab coat on the cuff of his left sleeve, maybe even the black screens on the other side of the lab that had put themselves to sleep about twenty minute ago. Anywhere other than Ienzo before his mind started to-

“You keep frowning like that and I’ll start to think you’re not Demyx.”

“Huh?”

“You’ve been quiet for thirty minutes and now you’re frowning at nothing.” He teases, Demyx enraptured by the small, almost shy smile on the other’s lips to the point he forgets to react to the comment, seeming frozen in time as he takes it in. Oh, he could get used to Ienzo smiling at him like that oh too easily Demyx staring dumbfoundedly as Ienzo spoke again only for nothing to register, Ienzo raising a brow at him as that smile almost, almost, broke into a grin.

“What did you say Zex- I mean Ienzo, I didn’t hear you.”

“Nothing important.”

He’s teasing him again, standing from the desk and stretching, a resounding crack that made Demyx wince whilst Ienzo just sighed, as if relieved to hear it as opposed to somewhat horrified. “I think…I think I need a cup of tea; I’ll be back shortly. Please don’t touch anything.”

And he doesn’t. He just sits and watches the way Ienzo goes, wondering if he had missed truly was important or not.

---------------------------

It becomes routine, after a while, for Demyx to come by the lab after he’d finished his rounds, watching the shorter man as he worked, making mental note after mental note of the little changes in emotion and watching for the flashes, as Demyx now referred to them.

Fleeting yet fascinating, it feels strange this role reversal, where Demyx becomes the scientist and Ienzo the unknowing test subject, watching anger flash in blue eyes before resigning quickly to neutrality and ultimately to something sadder, guilt perhaps? Demyx had felt it enough himself but had never really seen it worn by someone else so clearly.

“You need a break.” He states, eyes flicking up from the screen to fix the Nobody with a reluctant stare, looking torn between arguing against the request and accepting it, pale hands coming up to Ienzo’s neck, picking at something just hidden by the collar. Another new thing he’d noticed, he picks at his neck when nervous or overloaded, Demyx contemplating stepping down before shaking his head. “A small break might clear your head and help you think straight.”

Ienzo snorts, rolling his eyes insolently like he’d heard this a thousand times before, no doubt from Aeleus or Even, the latter always seeming to hover around like a mother hen whenever the older scientist was with Ienzo, seemingly unaware of Demyx’s presence or, the more likely, choosing to ignore him all together. But still, the young man gets up, shedding his lab coat before discarding it on his chair and walking away from the desk, pausing to turn only when he didn’t hear following footsteps.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

He clicks his tongue, fixing Demyx with a stare only a fraction less intense than something Zexion would wear when scolding him. “You, me, break.” Short and sweet, straight to the point with little room to argue, not that Demyx ever would have, scrambling upwards to his feet, practically bouncing along with Ienzo to first the kitchen and then the gardens.

They take seat by a wall fountain, the stress in Ienzo seeming to melt away with the sound of the flowing water, slouching against the cold wall and nursing the cup of tea in his hands like it was the only thing still tethering the scientist to the mortal coil. He looks younger somehow, pinning his hair back with one hand as he sipped his tea, the slight breeze seemingly an ever-present threat to tarnishing both Ienzo’s drink and hair.

“You know, I could probably get you a headband or some clips after my next shift.”

“Wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

You’re never a bother, he thinks, a thought and belief he’s held for long enough now that he’s fairly certain it was incapable of changing into anything but. He’s talking again, eyes lighting up with almost childlike curiosity as Ienzo talks about his latest project, the thing that had been bothering up until the point Demyx had requested he take a break.

“Aerith asked me to look for someone.” The flower girl, a sweet woman who always brought flowers into the office when he dropped by to pick up the mail for the day, the only person he’d seen so far that could lecture his new boss on something without the Blonde glaring as fiercely at her as he had done with any irate customer who came in to complain about a delay or lost delivery. “Something about your boss and an old friend.”

“He has friends?” It’s a jest and he’s thankful when Ienzo smiles at it, unsure of it the younger man had ever met his grumpy boss, Cloud, to fully grasp the concept. Probably not, he only left the lab to eat, sleep and when someone bothered him enough to get out of his chair but, even then, he only went as far as the gardens. “I thought finding someone would be easy, you’ve got the database all set up, right?”

“Right but…” Ienzo pauses, the guilt creeping bag in as he seemingly sags under the weight of it, “but most of them are on world or I have a decent description of. I only have a name to go by and the barest hope that maybe one of the keyblade wielders has heard of him.”

Again, he’s scratching at his neck, frowning at the flowers opposite the pair almost intense enough to make them wilt under the seer force of it. A distraction, perhaps, to get his mind off of the thoughts of anxious and inadequacy that were surely plaguing him. “It’s a weird name don’t you think?”

“What is?”

“Cloud.”

There’s a pause, Ienzo freezing before he laughs, genuinely, Demyx struck by just how magical it sounded as shoulders quaked, racked by humour. He wants to hear this again, never thinking that he’d ever get the other to laugh so mirthfully, Ienzo wiping his face before fitting Demyx with a look like he was about to break down into giggles at any moment.

“Really?”

“Well yeah, it’s a dumb name”

“Your name is Demyx.”

“I didn’t pick my name!”

He starts laughing again, leaning against Demyx this time as he tried to temper the amusement down, covering his mouth as giggles threatened to bubble up all over again. “I don’t think he picked his name either, besides people in glass houses should not be throwing bricks.”

“I will throw bricks and stand proudly in the shattered remains of my hypocrisy.”

Ienzo is silent for perhaps a moment too long, Demyx shifting unconsciously under the gaze before shrugging and laughing to himself again. “I never knew you to be so eloquent.” It feels like a compliment so he’ll take it, Demyx hating the bubbling embarrassment at the other’s words, wondering if there would ever be a moment he doesn’t fluster at praise. It didn’t have to be from Ienzo, he’d nearly crumbled under the kind words of an elderly lady over a simple flower delivery.

“Might have picked up a thing or two from some guy I know.” He huffs, hoping Ienzo doesn’t pursue the subject and, much to Demyx’s relief, he doesn’t, simply humming and sipping his tea, a silence descending on the pair that is neither uncomfortable or stifling, just he sound of birds, the town below and the pouring water of the fountain acting as the only thing rupturing the otherwise serene silence.

The scientist is still leaning against him, Demyx choosing not to focus on the proximity, the way Ienzo seemed to fit just right there or the way the cavity in his chest seemed to thud, the echoing thunder within it hopefully not that noticeable either on his face or to the man leant against him. It might have been just minutes but, honestly, Demyx wishes it had been hours, Ienzo finally removing himself from Demyx to stand, offering a hand to the other.

“Thank you.”

“What for?”

“Making me take a break and listening.”

He takes Ienzo’s hand then, pushing himself up more than letting the other pull him up but he finds he doesn’t mind, hesitating before letting go of the hand in his and mentally cursing himself as Ienzo, seemingly oblivious, made his way back to the castle without him. So much for observing his emotional changes, Demyx conceded, running a hand through his hair and refraining from just pulling at it. It’ll be fine, he supposes, following after Ienzo slowly as he attempted to get his thoughts together.

----------------------

They meet outside the lab for once, Demyx finding the scientist in the kitchen as opposed to his usual place, lab coat abandoned once more in favour for an apron, the Nobody wondering how long he could linger in the doorway before Ienzo spoke up and summoned him forward. Maybe a while, he thinks, laughing under his breath, Ienzo was by no means unobservant but often lost himself in things, leaving him open to surprise on an almost regular basis.

His observations have become interesting, to say the least, notebook now brimming with excerpts and examples of how Ienzo reacted to things and how they differed from a typical human. Examples of how he’d exploded at Even in an argument the week before and how he’d crumpled as soon as he was away from the older scientist, looking to Demyx of all creatures to help him assess how he’d reacted.

A Human asking a Nobody how to feel, life truly was stranger than fiction.

“You know it’s rude to stare.” So Ienzo had noticed him, a small smile betraying the amusement the smaller man had in interrupting whatever it as that Demyx was thinking about. He’s wearing the headband that Demyx brought him, an admittedly joke purchase of the most ocean-based thing he could find in Radiant Garden, never expecting Ienzo to ever wear and yet, here they were, clownfish still visible even with the mass of hair doing its best to obscure it.

“Just thinking.” No lie to his words but not exactly a full truth either, Ienzo giving him an almost sceptical look before turning back to the chopping board, ignoring the blonde in favour of some shallots and garlic. Coming over to the join the other, Demyx takes seat at the worn kitchen table, far enough to be out of Ienzo’s space but close enough to notice the changes in body language, perhaps for the best considering his upcoming questions.

“Don’t strain yourself.” Ienzo retorts without hesitation, a small bounce in his step as he scraped the food from the chopping board into the frying pan, stirring once then twice before turning his attention back to the pile of ingredients nearby. “Should I even ask what about?”

“You, actually.”

Had he meant to be so honest? Demyx has no idea, biting his lip as he waited for Ienzo to react. Would he laugh or sneer? What response was he due to receive from the scientist who was simultaneously an open book and an enigma to him? He’s not entirely sure he wants to find out now that the silence has dragged on.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, about the conversation we had the other day.”

The silence is back, nothing but the sizzling of oil filling the air as Ienzo fell still, as if Demyx’s words had short circuited him, only moving when food began to catch, quickly chopping the rest of the meat on his board before adding it, a shaky breath before hands are under the tap. “I thought…we’re less likely to be interrupted in here, aren’t we?”

He’s never been here when Ienzo is cooking but he knows the labs and gardens at least always lead to another apprentice making an appearance and, if not them, then a keyblade wielder or former colleague that only served to quickly change the subject into something less important or for their conversations to die all together. Maybe Ienzo’s room but then, no, it wouldn’t do, someone would still interrupt them there.

“Yes but…” Ienzo trails off, rubbing his hands a little too harshly dry and swallowing, looking almost like a lost child as he looked between the stove and the kitchen table. “But I’m not sure if I…”

Demyx is ready for it this time, grasping the hand as it comes up to his neck, weaving fingers together where possible and giving his hand a light squeeze. Were his hands always this cold? Demyx wonders, taking in the shocked look of Ienzo and offering a small smile in response. No time for grins or quips, just open expressions and apprehension, pans moved off the heat before the smaller man can further burn his food. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, not until you’re ready.”

A tanned thumb rubs lines into the side of a pale palm, the focus back on breathing correctly in a bid to calm nerves and settle his old soul, Demyx watching as eyes closed and breaths came in slowly, a face slowly easing back into calmness after painting a picture so anxious it tugged and tangled his heart strings. He could kiss him, lord knows she wants to, biting his lower lip as he went over why that would be a bad idea over and over again, an inner mantra that he could not ignore.

He’ll be mad at you. He doesn’t feel the same way. He won’t want to be near you again after this. Just because he’s nice to you and treats you humanely doesn’t mean he wants you.

Demyx has taken risks but this time, this time he’s not sure it was worth it.

“I want to I just…”

“You just can’t get it into words?” Demyx fills in, Ienzo sighing and nodding, finally opening his eyes only to avert them to the side, face screwing as if trying to process a thought before Ienzo sighs. Hit the nail on the head there, Demyx surmises, giving the other’s hand yet another squeeze in hope of either encouraging him to speak or reassurance, which ever Ienzo had the most need for at that moment. “Or is it something else?”

“Something else. Maybe. I’m not honestly sure.” He pulls his hand away then, wiggling it out of his grasp and pulling the pan back onto the ring, breathing slowly, exhaling and continuing on like the exchange hadn’t just happened. It’s not long before the sizzling is back, Demyx feeling somewhat lost in the kitchen as he waits for Ienzo to do something, unsure as to where his sudden cowardice to chase the conversation had come from. “It’s easier to ramble my thoughts if I keep my hands busy.”

It clears up nothing and yet everything, Demyx’s mouth forming a small o as Ienzo hums, adding more ingredients to the pot, the tension in his shoulders seemingly melting away with every movement and stir.

“I’ve gone from bare traces of feelings for so long that now that I feel them at the level I should, it almost feels like drowning. My annoyance is anger and my anger is loathing, my insecurities scream at me deafeningly during the long nights and the moments alone in the lab when I can’t find answers.” He whispers his words, barely audible over the hissing of oil meeting stock, Demyx about catching the sight of downturned eyes and the accompanying frown. “Things that bring me joy make my heart pound louder than sirens and bells, my excitement and happiness over the littlest of things exceeds expectations in displays that are hard to tamper down.”

He sighs, anger bubbling back to the surface, movements becoming jagged, aggressive almost as he spat out his next words. “It’s ridiculous, I’m not- “

“I don’t think its ridiculous.” Demyx intersects, hand taking rest on Ienzo’s forearm as the other freezes once more, biting into his lower lip in a way that looks a touch too painful but now wasn’t the time to lecture, not that Demyx would have done that anyway. “You’ve gone from drips to an over spilling sink, you’re bound to struggle.”

The laugh surprises him, somewhat strangled and a bit raw, like Ienzo is using it to hide another emotion entirely from spilling from his lips. “When did you start making sense?” He chokes out, the heel of his hand wiping his eyes, perhaps wishing he hadn’t pinned his hair back so entirely.

“I always have,” it’s just nobody ever cares to listen.

------------------

The market is simultaneously busy enough for him to blend into the crowd but also empty enough that he’s had the ability to occupy the bench by Aerith’s for a solid 40 minutes without being interrupted by anyone beyond the aforementioned shop keeper who had simply brought him a drink and left after asking him if he was okay, slipping a flower behind his ear before leaving after confirming he was.

There’s something unnerving about her, though what caused Demyx to feel on edge around her he couldn’t place, assuming it was down to how she always seemed to know what had, is and would happen in the foreseeable future if you so much as stepped within five feet of her, her comment of how he could always give the flower to his friend if he didn’t want it making Demyx ask himself if he was so obvious that this practical stranger had sussed him out already.

It’s been eight days since the kitchen confession, Demyx knowing he wasn’t intending to ignore Ienzo but his feet had led him to this bench as opposed to the castle, pouring over his notes on Ienzo’s emotional state and the table of differences he’d made between both Zexion and Ienzo. The table was simple, almost childlike, one worded differences in lists under a name and a poorly drawn doodle of both sides of the coin, Demyx cursing himself as he realises the small hearts he’d drawn as almost a halo around Ienzo.

Oh, he’s a fool, staring at the page, blinking rapidly as if trying to erase the obvious signs of his affection as if Ienzo would ever see his scrawled notes that he was the subject to. Why would he? Demyx knew better than to expose himself like this to anyone, never mind the other, already shuddering at the imagined looks of the other apprentices and the laughter of everyone else.

“Looks like a twelve year old when hair is pinned back…is that supposed to be me at the bottom?”

Demyx jumps, yelling as he sends his notebook flying, scrambling to catch it, preparing to turn and shout at whoever had surprise him only to falter and clamp his mouth shut at the sight of Ienzo, still leaning over slightly and looking only marginally apologetic for scarring him. He’s lucky he’s cute.

“Is what you?”

Acting oblivious is perhaps not his best move, Ienzo fixing him a look that is filled with scepticism as he undoubtedly sees through Demyx’s façade, taking seat beside Demyx on the bench, slouching as he sighed. It’s not stressed this time, relieved, ecstatic almost, barely able to hide the pride from his features, relaxing in the silence that stretched between them. “Anyway, what brings you down into Radiant Garden? You normally don’t leave the castle unless I bribe you.”

“I found him.” He’s not seen the other’s eyes ever light up like that before, Demyx leaning back slightly as Ienzo leaned towards him, almost blinded by the sheer enthusiasm. Normally he’d make a comment, tell Ienzo to calm down for a second but the saccharine hit of endorphins that seemed to be flooding the human’s system was simply too irresistible to try and dampen. “I found Zack Fair!”

That would explain the lack of fanfare that would have come from finding Sora, he supposes, Demyx looking over Ienzo’s shoulder to his work place, Cloud in conversation with Leon and Cid looking stressed, before looking back to Ienzo and swallowing. The urge to kiss him is back, seemingly stronger than ever. “Knew you could, where was he then?”

“Game Central Station. Can’t say I’ve heard of it either but I got a name match at least.”

He continues to talk, Demyx just watching how animated Ienzo became with every word over what the finding of a new world meant, explaining his work with such vigour that Demyx responds without thinking, tucking a flyaway piece of hair back where it belonged having dislodged itself during the enthusiasm. Fingers trail along a pale jaw, tilting Ienzo’s chin up, swallowing thickly as his movements came to a standstill.

Maybe he should kiss him, maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing after all.

But, as with all things, he’s interrupted, wincing at Cloud calling his name before sighing, dumping his notebook into Ienzo’s hands unceremoniously, huffing as he stood before giving the other an apologetic look. “Sorry, duty calls.”

He’s going to regret giving Ienzo his notebook, isn’t he? Perhaps, but the flushed look of Ienzo was a fair enough trade for him, silently hoping he hadn’t ruined the one friendship he truly cared for.

-----------------------------

Three days until he sees Ienzo again and, for once Demyx isn’t sure if he’s unhappy that it took so long or that the break hadn’t lasted longer, still fighting the urge to run as he stands in the courtyard, holding what felt like a suspiciously empty box, the fragile stickers slapped across the brown paper being the only thing stopping the Nobody from just shaking the package.

From off world too, memories of Marluxia mentioning the Kingdom of Corona when he was still with the Organisation and Xehanort, a place of flowers and a princess with long hair trapped in a tower. Half the other worlds sounded like fairy tales, myths and legends but then Demyx knew full well they were. The Underworld still made him shiver, an itch he just couldn’t scratch.

Which wielder sent it? He wonders, Aqua being the safest bet of the lot of them, having gained enough of an impression of her from those talking about her to know she seemed the type to send something between worlds. Though, why she had to address it to the lab and not somebody specific he does not know, Demyx glaring at the package like it had gravely insulted him before heading in.

Perhaps the lab would be empty, Ienzo may spend most of his time in there but not all of it. He’s on a tea break, Demyx reasons with himself, finally took the initiative on his limits as a person and acted before he over worked himself yet again. It had, in part, been the reason for Ienzo’s argument with Even and Demyx can only dream that the message Even had been trying to get across had stuck.

Apparently not, Demyx sighs with resignation.

Sat at his desk as opposed to a computer, Ienzo had, of course, elected to take his break not outside of the lab but still in it, one hand nursing a chipped cup of tea whilst the other tapped a pen against the note book he was writing in, taking a brief break to think before noting something down again.

Maybe if he’s quiet he won’t be noticed, his cowardice coming back full force in the face of his feelings and it’s ridiculous, he believes, knowing full well he would have kissed the other the last time he’d seen him had the pair not been interrupted. Depositing the box is not the issue, the pen he sends clattering to the floor is, the noise seeming to become the loudest thing in existence, echoing beyond the walls of the lab and maybe out into the town square.

“If this is how you are when you’re trying to be stealthy, I see why you were always on public reconnaissance.”

He teasing him, still looking down at whatever he’s working on but humour still pulls of his lips to create some endearing mix of a smile and a smirk. Only on Ienzo would he find that expression endearing. It wouldn’t be wrong of him to think that maybe Ienzo hadn’t read his notebook after all, Demyx edging closer akin to a caged animal, swallowing back his fear of the situation.

Ienzo hadn’t read it. Ienzo was not aware he’d kept a notebook on his emotional ticks. Ienzo hadn’t delved into an admittedly creepy book containing both his thoughts about the newly reformed human and the differences between both himself and Zexion.

Only he had.

Demyx pales as he sees the notebook open, swiftly turning on his heel and making way to leave only for a hand to stop him, gripping the back of his jacket tight enough to stop him but loose enough to let him leave if he wanted to. He doesn’t. Despite the shame and feeling of regret welling up in him as Ienzo continues to hold the back of his jacket in silence.

Should he break it or leave it hanging? A spike of panic rising in his chest as the hand gripping him tightens, mumbling an inward prayer to himself for a favourable outcome as the silence is finally shattered. “I added another column, you’re rather observant when you want to be.”

He…What?

Turning back to face Ienzo and his work, Demyx takes note of the additional page ripped out from elsewhere in the book and stuck in, creases along the tape where the page had been folded in to keep it from sticking out. So there was another one, Demyx just about able to make out the words Child Ienzo from chicken scrawl, biting back a laugh at both the way his writing was better than an apprentice of Ansem’s but also the words written.

Little Weirdo. Quiet. Shy. Withdrawn.

Words from the other apprentices no doubt, Demyx sure he could place who had said what from what he had known of them whilst in the Organisation. But before he can even voice his guesses he’s distracted by the small doodle at the bottom, better than his vague barely Ienzo or Zexion doodles, of what Demyx guesses to be a child Ienzo. Miniature lab coat, neutral if not sour expression and ice cream? He’d never taken Ienzo to have a sweet tooth.

“There was one other thing…” Ienzo’s voice is gentle, fingers pulling at the hemline of his sweater vest as he looked down from the desk to his lap, breathing in the nose and out the mouth as he always did whenever the anxiety seeped into his system.

This was it. This was the time of his rejection, Demyx preparing himself to act like it was nothing, just water off of a duck’s back and nothing to be concerned about. “Look, you don’t have to-“

“I don’t really have days off but Even and Ansem both force me to take the afternoon off on Tuesday and Friday.”

Demyx can’t see his face but he can see the colour creeping along the other’s neck, hands still wringing the sweaters hemline almost to the point of distortion and oh.

Oh!

It finally clicks, Demyx biting his lip to stop himself from shouting in triumph, leaning down in one fail swoop to press a kiss to Ienzo’s cheek as the giddy energy eviscerated any self-doubt and regret he’d been stewing in for the past three days. “Then I will see you tomorrow, Zo.” The skip in his step is unmissable, practically bouncing out of the lab to finish his round so he can plan for tomorrow.

And if Ienzo hears his shout of celebration as the lab doors close, he doesn’t mention it.

#zemyx #ienzo #demyx #ienzo kh #demyx kh #kingdom hearts 3 #fluff #its just shameless fluff in all honesty #not sure if i should tag the others but it feels wrong somehow #im too deep in FF7 hell to ignore strife delivery service lads #G #KH fic

23 notes · View notes

jackidy · 4 years

Text

If You Let Me: Chapter 2

Rating: T Pairings: Demyx/Zexion, Demyx/Ienzo (Eventual/Slowburn) Characters: Various, Zexion/Ienzo Centric Setting: BBS to KH3, Canon compliant mostly

Warnings: Canon Character Death (Temporary)

Summary: “It’s almost a shame really, that you probably won’t survive this.” Only he did. Spending the prelude to adulthood as a nobody, a supposed empty husk of a being was never an option any of them considered, least of all a newly named Zexion who would be living every last one of them.

Note: A wee bit later than expected but that’s what happens when you procrastinate making maps for the DND campaign you run for about 2 weeks and remember your session is on saturday haha. Points if you can name the disney films i reference in this chapter.

Chapter one | Next Chapter

---

Year 2

Meetings are boring but by no means lacking interest, Zexion using this time to study the others from his low seat as they talked over their collective mission and any new world of interest. He’d read those outline reports later, after another lesson with Vexen on magic or even another round of watching Axel and Saix spar with any of the older members, mostly Xaldin, to become more attuned to their weapons.

His had yet to appear, a sign Vexen took to strengthen his magical abilities, Zexion wondering if this was in part down to him still holding a semblance of care towards him in the same vein as Even had. Nobody had ever mentioned it, at least not before him, but Zexion can’t help but wonder if he’d be ultimately replaced, the question of his age not coming into play when compared to his peers.

Everyone has something they’re good at, it’s what his fa- Ansem had always said, Zexion more than aware that his laid in observations. He was quiet, too many times had neither Axel or Saix had noticed him following them when they were all still whole, an unneeded bribe to buy his secrecy over them having snuck in once more. Ienzo had never done it for the ice cream, not fully, he’d also done it for the opportunity to discover something.

Even now, he’s still curious as to why they were always lurking around Xehanort’s underground lab.

Zexion turns as Xemnas addresses Axel, observing the way the red head tenses under his scrutinous gaze. “The world is called Prydain. It appears to already be mostly swallowed in darkness,” A waver in his voice betrays his nerves before its gone, the usual self-assured persona coming back as if the blip had never happened.

He’s getting better at lying then, Zexion notes, swinging his feet ever so slightly as he listened to the recount of the last world VIII had visited. “Dark, depressing, talk of a horned king and a black cauldron. I couldn’t really gather much information on the world.”

“And why is that?” It’s the same voice, the same mocking tone from that night, like their leader had a joke that no soul else was privy to, humoured by the failure of a mission as if he’d set up Axel to fail. Is Xemnas testing their resolve? Their dedication to the cause? He mostly reserved this antagonising for the red head, as if the rest of them had somehow already been assessed.

Zexion hates it.

“Might I suggest something?” The youngster begins, swallowing back the sudden nerves with an edged annoyance, remembering every etiquette lesson he’d sat through with both Ansem and Even. He didn’t usually speak in meetings, in fact he hadn’t done before, releasing a calming breath before continuing as he attempted to ignore the 7 sets of eyes seemingly boring holes into him. “Would it not be easier to gather information if we blended in more? I’ve only seen Radiant Garden but I don’t believe most worlds dress this way.”

The silence that follows is somehow deafening, Zexion mentally repeating his inner mantra of ‘don’t back down, don’t back down’ as the silence only seemed to grow louder, a familiar static in his ears. Blue meets orange, an elongated pause before Xemnas lets out some semblance of a chuckle, eyes flicking to the higher seats to Zexion’s left. “In that case, see that he’s mission ready. You have six months.”

The meeting continues on as it had before, a feeling of dread curling in Zexion’s stomach as he thinks over the outcome of his outburst. He’s not ready for missions, his grasp of magic is decent but he can’t even summon his own weapon yet. He’s got six months to not only figure it out but also learn to use it to defend himself. The appreciative warmth of Axel’s occasional glance does little to temper the queasiness and the ice of Vexen’s glare.

----

“You didn’t have to do that, you know.” He knew it was Axel before the other even spoke, ash and wood smoke, not as much underlying darkness as the others. It was odd, for sure, but not something Zexion paid much heed to as it made a welcome change. He’d taken to the grey area for once, the last place anyone would expect him to dwell, making avoiding Vexen’s wrath over his outburst all the more easier. It had been 3 hours since the meeting drew to a closer, after all.

“I know.” I just don’t like his voice when he talks like that, he adds on mentally, shifting over ever so slightly as the red head sat down beside him, eyes still focused on the reconnaissance report in his hands. Zootropolis. Nobody was…human? Maybe he shouldn’t have opened his mouth after all, frowning as he put the file aside and focused on the next one, this time thankful to see something at least humanoid.

Yet another world where long black coats would stand out too much, Zexion isn’t surprised but still feels the blow of it.

“Is that a rhino in…capris?” Axel’s voice makes Zexion look up, the redhead frowning with pure bemusement at the file Zexion had just put to the side, thumbing through images of various animals both in clothing and doing typically human things, a low whisper of “what the fuck” accompanying the sound of shuffled photographs and pages.

It isn’t as distracting he initially thought, having Axel sat beside him, easy enough to pretend the other wasn’t there as he studied the reports, the occasional sound of Axel reacting to the file or it hitting the table serving as only a minor disturbance. He’ll practise later, when he’s alone, in the privacy of his own room where prying eyes couldn’t see him.

Lexaeus’ warning over keeping the full extent his abilities a secret had gradually extended to the rest of them, despite his now ever pressing anxiety he would be replaced at the drop of a hat. Why had he spoken up? It had only made it worse, now with an added deadline of when it would happen. He should apologise, he should do something to make Xemnas not-

He’s tapped on the nose, an assault of smoke in his senses, Zexion not even bothering to tone down his glare at Axel who, to his credit, didn’t even flinch under it. “Now that I’ve finally got your attention, I’ll ask again. Do you want to practise?” Practise? Practise what? Zexion frowns at him, trying to convey his confusion over just what the other was trying to ask him only for Axel to sigh and mutter something under his breath.

“Look, you’re like five-“

“I’m ten.”

“You’re five, Xemnas may literally be heartless but even he’s not gonna send you out on your own.” Zexion bites back the anxiety laced retort of ‘he might’, Axel leaning in conspiratorially and the child can’t help but also lean in, expecting Axel to whisper his next words. “So, do you wanna practise changing the appearance of someone else too?”

“I’ll just practise on Vexen when we next have a lesson.”

“Vexen has seen less missions than even you have.”

He hates that Axel has a point, inhaling through his nose sharply, face twisting with annoyance as he thought over the opportunity. Practise magic and his abilities with someone who isn’t Vexen, come under potentially less scrutiny as expectations were undoubtedly lower, maybe even have a positive response that wasn’t laced with concern and the need for secrecy.

“Fine!”

If Axel is bothered by his tone, it doesn’t show, the older Nobody looking more amused than anything, over exaggerating a bow before his gangly arms gestured to the two piles of reports on the table, one clearly taller than the other. “Pick your poison, Zex.”

He doesn’t bother correcting Axel on the use of the nickname, sending him a withering look before snatching the top three reports of the closest and tallest tower, thankful these were all humanoid in appearance, stretching before turning to face Axel, already mentally hearing one of his elders scold him for having a foot on the seat. A little rebellion made life more interesting, at least that’s what Braig used to say before the accident.

Prydain. Dwarf Woodlands. Kokaua.

The first two are somewhat similar, reminding Zexion of the fairy tales his mother used to read to him, mostly simple garments in muted colours, forests and woodlands twisted into monsters. The images were mostly scenery, Zexion frowning at the lack of reference before pausing on one image of Dwarf Woodlands. A small creature, more of a blurred shadow than anything, partially hidden behind a tree at the edge of the titular woods. “What’s that?”

Axel leans over, a little too close into Zexions’ personal bubble for comfort, glancing at where the child was pointing before shrugging and leaning back after making a non-committal noise. “Probably a heartless, those little shadow ones get everywhere.” But it didn’t look like one, he wants to argue, pursing his lips but electing to not pursue it further.

He hadn’t seen many, Zexion will be the first to admit, a subject he had yet to fully research so maybe Axel was right, that it was just another heartless. If he was ever sent to the Dwarf Woodlands maybe he could even look for it himself, should it still be there.

Filing away that thought for later he turns to the last file, Kokaua, taking a moment to get over the sheer difference between the first two worlds and this one. Not so much a fairy tale but a paradise, bright and vibrant colour in place of the dull muted ones, warmth seemingly radiating from the images both in terms of heat and something more emotional and familial.

He wants to go, part of him wondering if Kairi had ended up somewhere like this. It would only be fitting, she’d always thrived in the warmth and sun, like a blooming flower stretching for the light, still made him wonder what she had ever seen in him as a friend. Closing the file, he puts it back on the pile, mentally weighing up the options between Prydain and Dwarf Woodlands before also placing the latter back, handing Prydain to Axel.

“Oh for…why Prydain?”

Zexion hasn’t schooled himself enough to hide all the amusement from his features, a teasing lilt to his voice as he responds all too matter of factly, as if the answer was obvious. “You’ve been there, you’ve seen the people.” The frustration the flashes on Axels face like fire, all too animated as he attempts to summon an argument in his favour only to ultimately fail each and every time. “You can’t find an argument, can you?”

“Shut up.” He hisses, the prompt for him to get on with changing his appearance going unvoiced but Zexion still hears it loud and clear, picturing what he wanted to appear. Using his abilities had gotten easier with time, becoming less tiring the more he performed feats but this would be the first time he’d used them like this on another, usually the subject of them being himself.

Taking a breath, he allows black coats to transform, replaced with shirts, tunics and leggings, black boots dying themselves brown. Its near perfect, the odd shimmer revealing the illusion for what it was as his brain seemed to become fuzzy around the edges. He drops the illusion at this point, frustrated at his own limitations, wanting to voice his frustrations only to be jolted as a hand came crashing down on his head, ruffling his hair a little too aggressively for Zexion’s liking.

“That went better than I thought it would, wanna go again?”

He does, Zexion waiting for the fuzz to clear before starting the process again, a new found level of giddiness in his chest over the praise.

--------

Vexen finds him. It takes two days but he finally corners him in the kitchen, seemingly having no qualms with addressing his thoughts about Zexion’s outburst towards Xemnas in front of Lexaeus like he did with everyone else. He was a fool to reject the option of practising the illusions with Axel again, Zexion thinks, doing his best to seek an escape route without relying on a dark corridor or an overly elaborate illusion.

“Sit down, we need to talk.” There’s no room for argument in his tone, Zexion reluctantly sliding into the seat opposite Vexen, staring not at the man but at the space just beside his head. It’s always been like this, when it came to discipline. Vexen would sit opposite him and Zexion would avoid fully looking at him. “I’m not mad with you-“

“Yes, you are.” Zexion can’t help himself, taking the momentary distraction to confirm that, yes, Vexen had closed the door behind him, ultimately cutting off that escape route. Time to be creative then, he was an illusionist after all, waiting for Vexen to put his head in his hands before acting. Checking to make sure Lexaeus isn’t looking, he duplicates himself, allowing his body to disappear as his copy sits where he previously did.

“I’m disappointed and concerned.” Vexen finished, speaking through gritted teeth, an obvious sign that if he wasn’t mad before he was at least annoyed now. “Your want to defend that buffoon is admirable but, no matter how eloquently you put it, undermining the leader to his face is foolish.”

His copy remains sat at the table, schooling the clones face to look guilty as he bit his tongue to avoid spilling the remark of ‘so I should do it behind his back?’. No point in angering the elder further, no doubt he’d been stewing on this since the meeting and Zexion still isn’t one hundred percent sure if that is ultimately going to work in his favour or not.

Sliding up onto the counter, away from where Lexaeus is working, Zexion tenses as his feet hit against eh cupboard door, the rattling seemingly deafening in noise as time seemed to slow. He’d given himself away, the youngster about to reveal himself and apologise when Lexaeus interrupted, the gentle giant knocking his knee against another door. “Apologies, Vexen, I was lost in a thought.”

Speaking to Vexen but looking at him, knowingly, turning back to the book he was thumbing through on the counter barely moments later. He’d been caught by one but not the other, caught but not exposed, a positive thing Zexion hoped. “You may have befriended both VII and VIII but I feel it would be more appropriate that you limited your contact with them. They both, especially VIII, have had a negative effect on you and how you approach things.”

“Would it not be beneficial to talk with people around my own age?” Zexion replies, wincing over the stretch to call either Axel or Saix close to his age, the red head the closest to him in age at a full 7 years his senior. Vexen it appears, is just as aware of this as him, grimacing himself at the knowledge that Zexion was not only correct but truly stuck without peers his own age.

“I suppose. But you must learn to keep your feelings in check, child. We are supposed to not have them after all and more outbursts at Xemnas like that may have less favourable outcomes in future.” Vexen stands after this, reaching out to touch the clone before moving his hand back, sighing deeply. “I just want you to be careful.”

“I will be, I’m sorry.” He’s sorry for concerning Vexen more than he is for his words to Xemnas, relaxing as Vexen accepts this apology and dismisses himself, his clone dissolving with the close of the kitchen door. The silence is somehow still comfortable as the illusion over himself melts away, Lexaeus paying him no mind nor heed at seeing the small Nobody once again.

“Almost perfect.” Is all he says, gesturing to Zexion’s feet with a small smile, before beckoning Zexion over, tapping on the pages of his book. Sliding off the counter, the child hurries over, perhaps a little too excitedly, stepping up onto the foot stool set up for him before Vexen’s arrival in order to make his lessons with Lexaeus easier. “Today’s lesson may be rough on your nose so let me know if it gets too much.”

“What are we learning today?” He’d taken up cooking with Lexaeus a couple of months ago, finding the smell of a dish so perfectly cooked wasn’t so much an attack on the senses as a blessing, something that cleared the overload of darkness that seemed to cling to everything around him. The lessons were infrequent but never unwelcome, always seeming to be therapeutic when compared to his others, like they weren’t lessons to begin with so much as something the pair of them could do together that didn’t centre entirely on the fact they were no longer human.

“Cooking Base.”

-----

He’s thankful that Xaldin starts off combat training easy, a focus on footwork above all else, closely followed by how to avoid a direct hit when there’s no access to a weapon. So, all the time for him if things didn’t change anytime soon, already a month into training with still no sign of it every appearing. Disguising others and expanding his energy to cast thundara or blizzara he could do, the latter spell bringing nothing but endless pride to Vexen, but his magic was still limited and battling whilst disguised is not something he wishes to think about without a weapon of his own.

It’s too exhausting, his energy already seeping out of him like a bleeding wound every single time he used disguise or magic, the feeling of being a burden having already bloomed within him regardless of who would be his partner for his first mission. Presuming he’d be granted that mercy, nobody still able to confirm if their speculation on Xemnas’ character was correct or not.

“You ready for today, kid?” There’s a promise of something in Xaldin’s voice, Zexion hesitating before nodding, simultaneously curious and somewhat fearful for what the other had planned for him. No threat had been directed at him, that much was true, but he’d bared witness to some of the more rigorous lessons he’d put Axel and Saix through more than once.

The part of him praying for history related mercy, as Xaldin summons not dusks but his spears, Zexion wondering if there’s been a mistake up until one pierces the floor beside him, the child swallowing as the spear dislodges, floating back to its master who seemed a little too thrilled with the prospect of potentially spearing him.

Laziness. He’d comment on the laziness of Axel and Saix when they’d make a mistake, make a snide comment about how Vexen never attended missions, of how he wasn’t pulling his weight. Xaldin wasn’t Dilan, they were nothing alike and Zexion would have to remember that. Dilan wouldn’t hurt him. Dilan would follow him and Kairi around the gardens after the strange creatures showed up to make sure they weren’t hurt. Xaldin, he believes, would not only hurt him but perhaps enjoy it.

“All you need to do is touch me. Consider that a warning shot.”

A warning shot?! Another thick swallow before Xaldin fires once more, no warning or misfire this time, Zexion fully aware that he’d be impaled if he failed to move fast enough, the fresh cut in his right sleeve testament to that. Checking for blood, he turns just in time to avoid another cut, this time to his cheek, breathing a little panicked as he watched the spears return yet again to Xaldin, swaying slightly like snakes waiting to strike.

Don’t panic. Don’t panic. He repeats the mantra as Xaldin attacks once more, summoning a wall of ice, a jolt going through him with each sound of the spears connecting with the spell. He wouldn’t have much time, even with a distraction, quickly calculating how many he’d need in order to reach his teacher, taking a slow breath in and then out.

Duplication was the easiest option, the one he was most confident in, copying himself not only once but twice stopping only there as the ice wall began to shatter. Sending both distractions forward, he follows shortly after cloaking himself as he had in the kitchen, remembering what Lexaeus had said and committing it to memory. Almost perfect and he’d need better than that to best Xaldin.

Dilan had ears sharper than glass, often wouldn’t have to look up or turn to call Ienzo out on his attempts to venture out side the castle grounds alone, he could only assume Xaldin would be the same. Zexion doesn’t make it far before his suspicions are confirmed, narrowly avoiding the spear that flew past at speed, the damage it would have caused had it connected not something that child wished to think about.

“Illusions only work if you’re quiet, VI.”

Reduced to a number, Xaldin truly was both frustrated with him and enjoying himself, not bothering to turn as both his clones were impaled and faded, leaving Zexion alone with naught but the spear a hairs breadth away for company. “Let’s try again, shall we?”

If the opportunity ever arose, he’d travel back to inform his past self that lessons with Vexen, as over critical and frustrating as they were, were a joy compared to those with Xaldin, gritting his teeth as a blast of wind pushes him back further than his previous starting position and the training resumes.

------

If Xigbar was trying to not be noticed, he was doing a poor job of it, Zexion electing to wait for the another to announce his presence in his usual cocksure fashion as opposed to enquire as to if he wanted something. Better to either ignore the man, and hope he left, or just let him run his course on lingering in the illusionist’s space, until he decided to do whatever it was he had come to do.

Though what Xigbar wanted in Vexen’s lab when the latter wasn’t present escaped Zexion, no matter how long he thought on it.

His chair tilts back ever so slightly as Xigbar leans on it, Zexion inwardly wishing the other had only come in looking for Vexen or to view whatever oddities the other was curating, not bothering to hide his groan of annoyance. Gun smoke and supernovas, it’s an assault on the senses, grimacing as Xigbar leaned down and even closer, like he was fully aware it bothered the young Nobody and, at this point, Zexion was more than aware it was deliberate.

“No need to be so sour, Zexion, I only want to learn something.” Doubtful, Zexion thinks, giving up on the book of spells to stare at the wall opposite, still hoping that ignoring Xigbar would make him leave. It doesn’t, it never does, it’s a fool’s hope and, yet, he still decides to pray for it as if the worlds would somehow have mercy on him. “Something only your observant little head would notice.”

He’s trying to butter him up, sweet talk him into getting what he wants, knowing full well that the child loved praise and taking advantage of it. “Thank you but I have my doubts I’ll have noticed what you want.” Quicker this is over and done with, the quicker he can be left alone. The library had become out of bounds for the most part, far too many times he’d run into both Axel and Saix talking in hushed whispers that would always stop when they noticed Zexion there.

“I wouldn’t be so sure. You practically live in the library. You must have run into moon boy and cinders in there.” Zexion pauses at the names before it clicks, the arm on the back of the chair unbalancing it a little more, Xigbar now leaning down far enough he could whisper directly into Zexions ear. “Just curious as to what they’re doing.”

“They talk and Axel spends the entire time looking at Saix like he’s never seen the sun before.” Zexion replies smoothly, not an entire lie but not a full truth either. The pair talk, this much was true, but the redhead reserved the looks usually for when Saix wasn’t looking at him never when talking to him. If Xigbar isn’t happy with the answer, he doesn’t let on, nodding solemnly as if this is what he wanted to hear.

Something Zexion doubts.

“But what do they talk about?”

Zexion simply fixes him with a look at this, slightly pained and uncomfortable, hoping Xigbar got the message, thankful when he did and stood back up. He mutters something to himself that sounds vaguely like ‘did not see that coming’, almost as if he’d been hoping and expecting to have heard something more fitting with his perceived expectations. “Can I help you with anything else or are you satisfied?”

“Satisfied, for now.” There’s something to that smile that makes him uneasy, Xigbar disappearing through a dark corridor with a wink, or so Zexion thinks, leaving behind the nervous yet bemused child. What in kingdom hearts was that ‘for now’ supposed to mean and, better yet, does he even want to find out?

Its during a break from combat training that he feels the pull again, a strange tightness in his gut as he healed the fresh cuts on his cheek, left leg and side. Xaldin had temporarily benched him due to distraction, shockingly close to caring if not for the fact he’d impaled Zexion to the floor through his coat. Another repair job for Lexaeus, Zexion feeling a tinge of guilt over it.

If he was better at avoiding things, then he wouldn’t be sat casting cure on himself, wouldn’t be stuck on the side lines watching Saix and Lexaeus spar. Perhaps wouldn’t have that tug slowly seep from his stomach to his chest, having appeared the week before and had persisted on making Zexion once again aware of its presence whenever he used magic.

Was he finally get used to casting magic? Maybe not, Zexion biting his lower lip as he thought, steadily becoming lost in them. Growing accustomed to magic was less of a pull but more of a relief, becoming less drained with the use of his abilities thus granting him the ability to experiment more. It had never acted like a magnetic attraction to something he wasn’t sure of yet.

“Shit! KID!”

The yell cuts through his thoughts, looking up not at he sparring two before him but the pair to the side, a spear heading straight for him. His mind is blank, frozen in place like his body, short circuiting as he fails to think of what to do, simply throwing his arms up to protect his face and vitals from being pierced. Only it never hits, the pull in his gut replaced by a different sensation entirely, a connection that feels familiar yet he knows he’s never experienced it before, as the new found silence in the room is shattered by the sound of a spear clattering against the floor by his feet.

Opening his eyes slowly, he carefully lowers his arms, still nervous another spear would be making a beeline for him only to find a book, thick and old, floating in the air before him only to suddenly drop, a thud and a clatter as it the spear and sent it rolling away.

A book. His weapon was a book? His comrades had gained weapons such as swords, lances and claymores and he had gained a book. It’s funny, he thinks bitterly, remembering Ansem’s old words of how knowledge was the most powerful weapon at your disposal and here he was, armed with a tome bursting with pages of lord only knows what.

Its lighter than it looks, Zexion letting out an inquisitive hum as he leafed through the pages, ignoring the voice in the back of his head that losing focus on his surroundings here would be a bad idea. It’s a story and, yet, it isn’t, seeing moments of his own memories printed on pages but also excerpts of Xaldin and Axel, diagrams of their weapons and a basic outline of how they fought with them. Almost like the book had somehow downloaded all the information it could when the spear had made contact with it.

What else was stored within? How else could he fill the pages? Questions are running a mile and minute in his head as he’s tapped on the shoulder, Saix not speaking, only nodding towards the door to leave, the teenager letting out the barest of winces when Xaldin’s voice grows in volume. Bellowing at Axel over how protecting yourself should not come at the cost of injuring the other in your party.

------

His first meeting in a while, Zexion having missed the past few due to over working himself or, after a gruelling session with Xaldin, being a little too injured to remain awake enough to attend. Nobody had reprimanded him for it, no snide comment in the grey room from one of his superiors when they found him alone, pouring over the files on worlds he might visit one day. But he still felt on edge, like something was about to happen that he’d be unable to stop even if he tried.

“How has progression with VI been coming along?” Xemnas may be looking at him but he knows the question is directed at the others, Zexion clenching his fists and grimacing. Did he have to be present for this? Of course he did, the Superior’s need to exert his dominance over them all through humiliation was well known now, especially to the youngest two members. If Saix faced the same, it wasn’t done openly and in front of the rest of the Organization.

“His magic is advancing well, a jack of all trades you could say. He’s progressing wonderfully.” Praise from Vexen, not entirely unexpected but still surprising to hear in such a public arena, he must truly be proud of himself for it. Was he bitter? Perhaps, just a little, wishing the blonde could compliment him without boosting his own ego at the same time.

“He’s lacking in physical qualities but he’ll manage. I would advise a companion or two for his first missions as, whilst his weapon has manifested, I doubt he’ll be successful.” A vote of confidence from Xaldin but he’s relieved to say the least, Xaldin had the second highest seat, second only to Xemnas, surely their superior would listen to something he had to say and at least take it into consideration.

Xemnas is quiet, nothing too unusual from the man but it still strikes a spark of uncertainty in Zexion. “Very well, we will continue as planned. Wait for me after the meeting, VI, I have something I wish to discuss.” This was it. He was going to be replaced, Xemnas was going to tell him his fate once his sermon on the power of Kingdom Hearts was over. He was going to be turned into a dusk.

Maybe this was to do with him lying to Xigbar? Had Xigbar figured out his twisted truth and reported him to Xemnas? The anxiety is eating him alive, doubts over the statement they weren’t supposed to feel emotions stronger than ever, the impulse to run and hide becoming harder and harder to ignore the longer Xemnas made him wait outside the Round Room.

“Walk with me.” Is all Xemnas says upon finally appearing, hands clasped behind his back as he strode, Zexion having to jog in order to keep up. “Tell me of your weapon, what have you discovered?” Should he be honest? Xemnas finally slowing his pace when Zexion remained silent, waiting for Zexion to catch up before continuing the walk at more leisurely pace.

“It contains a story made of both my memories and those it comes into contact with.” Zexion replies carefully, watching as Xemnas stiffened, looking back to him with such honest curiosity that the illusionist doubted he had the same man before him. Not, mocking, no sense of an inflated ego, just a lost man who looked a mix of hope and curiosity.

This wasn’t Xemnas. This wasn’t Xehanort. This was someone else.

“Interesting.” Xemnas replies carefully, his usual demeanour seeming to slip back in as a dark corridor opened up before the pair, Zexion looking between his superior and the corridor with confusion. “Search your memories for a girl with blue hair, you’re dismissed.” He leaves with that, stepping through the corridor that closes behind him, leaving Zexion alone in the naughts approach.

#zexion #zemyx #Lexaeus #axel kh #saix #vexen #xemnas #xaldin #xigbar #kingdom hearts #organization 13 #T #i only seem to update this blog at like 2am #fic: if you let me

8 notes · View notes