#in canon his glasses are missing to indicate a loss of Self. right.

[beastwhimsy]

pretty janky gif but I wanted to compare my simon design to my ice king design. behold! old person

[katsen13]

Second Chance

Feel free to reblog, but please do not repost to other sites without permission first.

General Content: Angst, moodiness. Time travel (please excuse any plotholes I may have missed). Not 100% canon, obviously.

References: The Avengers, Thor: The Dark World, Avengers: Age of Ultron, Captain America: Civil War, Thor: Ragnarok, and Avengers: Infinity War. *MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR THESE MOVIES.*

Chapter-Specific Content: Angst, fighting, serious injury, death, mention of loss. Please let me know if I missed any!

Summary: Tony drops Loki off on Asgard to get an infinity stone.

*Click here for Chapter 4.*

*Second Chance Masterlist*

CHAPTER 5

     [Asgard’s Dungeon] Loki looked around his room while swirling a glass of wine around in his hand and sighed. It was nice enough but smaller than he had hoped. He really couldn’t complain because it was the largest cell Asgard had and he didn’t have to share it; Odin at least had enough foresight to not give him such a readily accessible pawn. All in all, he rather enjoyed his new cell; it certainly had more furnishings than his last one. Loki glanced down at the worn book lying before him on the table with a frown. No matter how nice his cell was, it didn’t do anything for his boredom. As he reached to open the book, two figures appeared out of nowhere just outside his cell. Loki blinked in well hidden, mild surprise at the arrogant human Tony Stark. He glanced at the wine glass in his hand then looked back at the pair before sitting it down on the table with another sigh. For some reason, his gaze was drawn to the figure next to Stark, though he couldn’t figure out why. Something about the figure felt strangely familiar, yet completely foreign to him. Before Loki could say anything, Tony turned to the figure and held his arm out toward the cell. “He’s all yours. Just don’t touch him. Don’t want to risk it.”

     The figure shot Stark a quick, irritated look. Slowly approaching the cell, the figure lowered his hood. Loki’s eyes widened as he stared back at himself.

     Loki nodded his head toward the table as he looked at the imprisoned version of himself. “You’re going to want to finish that glass.”

     After a lengthy discussion with many questions and a lot of skepticism, accompanied by far too much commentary from Stark, Loki managed to catch his other self up on what was going on.

     “So, assuming I believe that you two are actually real, let alone telling the truth,” Loki began, now standing face to face with himself, with only the front panel of his cell between them. “What exactly is it you want from me?” He looked down at the empty wine glass in his hand, wondering what exactly had been in it. He was beginning to think that Odin had perhaps had second thoughts on sparing him for Frigga’s sake.

     “The real question,” Loki waved his hand, refilling the glass in his other self’s hand. “Is what you want.”

     His imprisoned self looked up at him through the barrier between them. “Shouldn’t you know what I want?” He asked cockily. Stark coughed into his fist to hide a smirk. Ignoring both of them, Loki continued. “I will take your place here, and he,” Loki indicated Stark standing by his side, “will take you to Jotunheim.”

     The imprisoned Loki straightened in mildly amused surprise. “Jotunheim?” He asked with a small laugh. “What could that barren, frozen wasteland possibly have to offer me?”

     Stark cocked an eyebrow at Loki. Loki just casually shrugged at his imprisoned self. “How about a throne?”

     Intrigued, a smile slowly spread on the imprisoned Loki’s face. “I’m listening.”

     Loki watched as his brother approached his cell, wearing a simple robe to signify his mourning. Loki tuned out his brother, feeling numb. When Stark had warned him about loss, he hadn’t thought--

     “I know you seek vengeance as much as I do. You help me escape Asgard and I will grant it to you, vengeance. And afterward, this cell.” Thor spoke to his brother, proposing a deal.

     Loki chuckled. If only he knew, he thought. Turning to his brother, he looked up at him with a wry smile. “You must be truly desperate to come to me for help.”

     [Svartalfheim] Loki watched as the battle around him raged on, keeping a close eye on his brother, just waiting for the right moment. As he watched his brother quickly put down two dark elves, he began to wonder if it would ever come. Suddenly, Kurse threw a black hole grenade right behind Loki and Jane. Loki shoved her aside and turned to run just as the black hole opened. Loki was lifted off his feet, the pull of the vortex drawing him in. He felt a little surprised and disappointed. This is how it ends. He thought. Such a waste. 

     Just before the vortex pulled him in, Thor flew into Loki and knocked him out of the way. Thor and Loki hit the ground hard. Rising together, they exchanged a brief look before Thor soared off to attack Kurse. Loki slowly turned as four dark elves surrounded him. Swiftly, he took them down, his finally unleashed rage flowing out through his dagger as they fell, one by one. After dropping the last elf to the ground, he turned to check on his brother. He saw his brother laying on the ground with Kurse approaching him. Seeing his chance, Loki snuck up behind them. Kurse stood over Thor, roaring and raising his arms in triumphant rage. Suddenly, a blade burst through his chest as Loki plunged one of the fallen dark elves’ swords deep into Kurse’s back. Kurse stopped and slowly turned toward Loki, fixing him in a chilling stare. Before he could react, Kurse pulled Loki onto the blade sticking out of his chest.

     “NO!” Thor shouted. Kurse tossed Loki to the ground and stepped toward him menacingly.

     “See you in Hel, monster.” Loki shuddered. Kurse looked down and noticed the black hole grenade on his belt that Loki had activated. The grenade exploded, Kurse raging as it enveloped him. Thor rushed to Loki’s side. He looked over his brother’s wound, holding him in his arms.

     “You fool,” Thor lamented through gritted teeth. “You didn’t listen.” Loki gasped, struggling to breathe before doubling in pain. “Stay with me, ok,” Thor demanded, as he clapped his brother firmly on the cheek.

     “I’m a fool.” Loki grimaced, his body contorting in pain. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He repeated, trembling.

     Thor comforted his brother, hushing him as he made him lay back down. His brother felt so cold to the touch, his skin quickly paling. Fighting back tears, Thor forced a smile for his brother’s sake. “I’ll tell father what you did here today,” he spoke softly, his voice breaking.

     Thinking of what exactly a future where Thanos succeeded could mean, Loki looked his brother in the eye before his vision went black. “I didn’t do it for him.”

     [Asgard’s Throne Room] Loki sat on the throne disguised as Odin and watched as his brother departed.

     “No, thank you.” He whispered with a grin, his disguise dissolving as soon as his brother was out of his sight. He lowered a hand and held it to his chest in the middle of his ribcage, feeling the scar already formed. Who knew the frost giant blood in his veins that he had seen as a curse on his life would be the very thing to save it?

     He felt an odd sense of relief and pride. With him on the throne, he would be sure that Thanos would never get it. His brother and father were away, safe from harm; he had made sure of that. Upon receiving the Aether, he immediately placed it in Odin’s treasury, with the Tesseract already there. He didn’t like having the two infinity stones so close together, but he was the only one who knew they were both there and he would die before he told anyone. After he was sure Thor had gone, Loki created a replica of the Aether and its containment unit. He summoned Lady Sif and Volstagg and ordered them to take the replica to Tivan. He knew it wouldn’t be safe there, but as a replica, it didn’t need to be. As for the real one, Loki assumed Stark would come for it eventually.

@parkerspicedlatte @therandomnessofages @geekofmanythings16

[aliceslantern]

Beyond this Existence, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 9

Summary:  After Xehanort's death, Demyx finds himself unexpectedly human in Radiant Garden. With nothing but fragments of his past and a cryptic statement from Xemnas, he's left to figure out who he is. When Ienzo asks for his help with a project, the two find common ground, but the trauma and secrets in both of their pasts could tear it apart. Zemyx (Demyx/Ienzo), post-KH3 canon compliant

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

The next morning, Demyx tried to stomach breakfast. It had been hard to sleep, and everything around him seemed dull.

Even barged into the kitchen, looking peaked, his eyes on fire. “Have you a moment?” he asked breathlessly. Demyx half expected Even to yell at him. He’d barely stood when Even had seized him by the wrist and towed him towards the lab.

“Are you mad at me?” Demyx asked.

“I suppose, in a sense,” Even said. Once they reached the door, he let him go, and the momentum nearly caused Demyx to fall. “Your DNA has caused me to lose countless hours of sleep.”

“I...I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I’m guessing you didn’t find anything.”

“No. Precisely the opposite. Come here.” He gestured him towards one of the long tables, where several microscopes were lined up along with masses and masses of papers. Demyx didn’t know why he assumed Even was organized; the table was an absolute disaster.

“I’ve parsed everything you’ve given me. Looking simply at your genome, I was… frustrated. It’s normal. See, have a look. If you compare yours--” Demyx peeked into the microscope, seeing nothing but a double helix. “--And mine, aside from the average differences owing to our makeups, they’re the same. But then… I decided to look at your epigenome. Have you heard of it?”

“Um… well… isn’t that stuff like… how I was raised?”

“Well, it’s countless different factors, like the amount of oxygen you received in the womb, and the food you’ve eaten. Which is why it’s taken me so long to isolate them, and then to make sense of them. Now, again, I used myself as the comparison point. If you look at yours…” He pulled out a folded, taped piece of paper, full of little lines with notes trailing each. “...And mine, it started to make sense. Of course nearly all of the markers are going to be different. Take a look at these.” He lay the two papers side by side. “These markers here… they’re kind of like the amount of time your body’s spent in the environment, so to speak. Hard to tell just by looking at the regular genome. I can tell from your genome that you’re roughly twenty-two years of age, and you can tell from mine that I am… well. It’s accurate, I can assure you. But these… these!” His nostrils flared. “Your temporal markers should at least slightly resemble mine. They don’t. If I’m right at all… your little theory might have some purchase.”

“So you’re saying--” His throat was dry. “It’s true?”

“The initial tests seem to indicate that, yes.”

Demyx slumped against the table.

“I had the precise same reaction,” Even said.

“It’s why I don’t remember,” Demyx said.

“You’ve no memory?” Even asked.

“Only the dreams. Only what I’ve told you about.” He was shaking. “Am I really… did I really live through the Keyblade War?”

Even sighed. “You may very well have.”

“How? Why?”

“I’m thinking it has something to do with some sort of self-preservation. We all know that when the body and heart are in danger, especially if one is a Keyblade wielder, a person can produce otherwise impossible feats of magic. This had to be what Xemnas, and by extension, Xehanort saw in you.”

Demyx couldn’t breathe. His mind flashed to the piles of bodies from his nightmare. It must’ve been real.

“I don’t know if it’s possible to awaken those memories. It would most definitely be too much for your new heart to take.” Even shook his head. “Fate… is cruel.”

“I don’t want this. I just… I just wanted to play sitar,” Demyx whispered. The walls seemed to be closing in on him. He took one last look at Even and ran out the door.

Demyx spent the rest of the day, and the next several, in a numb, dissociated daze. He did everything on autopilot. A small part of him, the only part that seemed at all alive, missed Ienzo. He hadn’t seen him at all, and he hoped he was okay. It was hard to tell.

He decided to bring him lunch, if only to have something to look forward to. He made several sandwiches and brought them through the long, meandering corridors to the computer room. The castle felt empty and hollow, but then again everything did at the moment.

If Even’s lab was a disaster, Ansem’s was positively apocalyptic.

Whatever counter space surrounded the computer console was a sea of books, papers, and empty glasses. Posters covered the walls, connected with disjointed bits of tape. There was so much mess that Demyx barely saw Ansem in the sea of white.

“Hi. Sorry to interrupt,” Demyx said. “I brought you guys some food.”

Ansem’s head snapped up from the computer. Ienzo was nowhere to be found. “That’s very kind.”

“...Where’s Ienzo?”

“Ah, coincidentally, he went off looking for you.” Ansem looked positively zombie-like. Even through a small pair of reading glasses, his eyes were glassy and red. “I’m pleased you two have struck up a rapport. He could use a free-spirited friend his own age.”

We’ve struck up something, alright . He bit his lip. “Thanks. I think.” He set down the bundle on the smallest pile of papers close to Ansem. “Well, if he’s looking for me I should try to find him. And… er… Master?”

Ansem chuckled. “You’re not my apprentice. You needn’t fuss with the honorifics.”

“You should take a break too. No offense, you look terrible.”

“I appreciate your concern.” Ansem sat down on one of the chairs in the room. He reached for one of the sandwiches. “Yes, perhaps I… will take a few minutes…”

Demyx nodded and treaded the path in reverse, backtracking almost all the way to his room. He saw the wisp of white as Ienzo crossed into the kitchen. Demyx followed him and stopped cold.

Ienzo was covered in blood, clutching his nose and mouth.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice high with stress. “What happened?”

“Nosebleed. Very bad one. Nothing to worry about,” he said around the cloth pressed to his face. “Air too dry.”

Demyx guided him over to a chair. He really had lost a scary amount of blood. The white jacket was most likely ruined. He poured him a glass of orange juice. Demyx watched with a morbid fascination as he switched a soaked handkerchief for a dry one. Concern welled up in him. “Lean forward,” Demyx said. “You don’t want to swallow it.”

“It usually doesn’t take this long to stop,” Ienzo said, flinching.

“Do you usually get them?”

“Only when I… oh.” He exhaled.

“Only when you overwork?” Demyx asked. “You haven’t rested at all since the last time I saw you, have you?”

Ienzo took the cloth away from his face. The bleeding seemed to have stopped, but he was dangerously pale.

“Drink your juice,” he said, scowling.

Ienzo reached for his cup. His eyes were glassy, and hollow, like Ansem’s. He flinched and touched his head.

“You should lay down,” Demyx said. “Please.”

“I will. I…” He hissed in pain.

“Do you want me to get Even?”

“No. I’ll be fine.”

“You lost a lot of blood.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Ienzo stood; or rather he tried to. Demyx sensed what happened before he saw it. Ienzo collapsed into an exhausted heap. Demyx caught him under the armpits. He seemed completely unable to support himself. Demyx eased him to the ground.

He hadn’t fully lost consciousness; he had a dizzy, vacant look on his face, which was somehow worse. Demyx patted Ienzo’s cheek. “Hey. Hey, Ienzo. Talk to me.” Maybe he’d gone mute? Was that it? “Squeeze my hand.” No response; he was totally limp. Demyx’s breath caught. He tried to raise his voice, to scream for help, but fear had sealed his throat shut.

Demyx was able to lift Ienzo himself, but only barely. Thankfully his bedroom was only a few doors down. He lay Ienzo down on the bed and then ran for Even. Hurriedly he explained what happened and then they were both running back. Demyx tried to keep his distance as Even fretted over Ienzo, taking vitals and sticking him with needles of this and that, leaving him with a hanging bag of fluid.

“I told him,” Demyx whispered. “I told him to take care of himself.”

“He only listens when he wants to,” Even said. He shook his head.

“Is that what this is? Something because of overwork?”

Even sighed. “He’s really done a number on himself. Exhaustion, dehydration, low blood sugar, cortisol levels dangerously high. The blood loss must have only exacerbated his condition. Best you found me when you did. With rest, and the proper care, though… he’ll recover.”

Somewhere in this Ienzo stirred, the vacant look in his eye clearing slightly. “Demyx?” he asked dazedly.

He took Ienzo’s hand and crouched by the bed.

“What…?” he asked, very weakly.

“You passed out. I am going to yell at you when you get better. Just a warning. I can be scary.”

Tears clouded his eyes, but he didn’t fight them.

Without thinking, Demyx kissed his forehead. “You’re going to be okay. You just have to get some sleep. I’ll be right here.”

He nodded and shut his eyes, too exhausted to put it off any longer.

“So. That is the nature of your connection with Ienzo,” Even said.

Demyx turned, bright chagrin washing through him.

Even raised an eyebrow. “He has mentioned you an awful lot. But I must admit I am flabbergasted. What is it you two even have in common?”

“I don’t know,” Demyx said. “But I… I care about him. And I think he feels the same about me.”

Even exhaled. “It is not up to me any longer to try and stop that boy from making mistakes,” he said. “But if this ends poorly… you realize there will be hell to pay.”

“Yes. I know.”

“That is all I have to say about that. At least until I process this. I am much too tired.” Even shook his head. “I’ll come back to check on him. If there’s any unusual change, notify me at once.”

“I will,” Demyx said. And they were left there alone.

Ienzo slept. And slept. Even came and went several times to change the fluid and give him a few more shots. He moved so rarely that Demyx worried he was actually comatose and not just deeply asleep.

Demyx was afraid to stray too far from him. After a little while, Ansem arrived, looking more haggard than ever. He stroked the top of Ienzo’s head. “I feel I have failed you already,” Ansem said to him. He stared down at him for a long moment, then looked to Demyx. “May I have a word?”

Demyx sensed what was coming. He nodded. Once they were in the hallway he didn’t let Ansem get a word in edgewise. “This needs to stop,” he said. “The way you two are working, you’re going to kill yourselves. And that’s not fair to him.”

Ansem said softly, “I agree. Several days’ rest are required.”

“Longer,” Demyx insisted. “Even said that if he had pushed himself any longer it could’ve been worse. And I’m sure you’re sick too. Let him look at you.”

“That is a… very empathetic reaction. Yes. I agree. We will rest.”

“I’m not going to let him near that lab. I’ll…” He didn’t know what he’d do, but it would be something.

Ansem chuckled. “Before I go sleep, I want to address your relationship with Ienzo.”

There it was. “Even told you?”

“Yes. At first I was… opposed. You are both dealing with the trauma of your pasts, and the newness of your humanity must be even more intense at your young age. But I haven’t seen Ienzo happier or more at ease in a long time. I would be loath to take that from him.”

This was Ienzo relaxed?

“You have a compassion that I did not anticipate. And in the end, this isn’t my choice. Treat my boy gently.” Ansem squeezed Demyx’s shoulder. “Treat yourself well too.” He headed off towards his quarters, whistling softly.

Well. At least there was that.

Demyx resumed his vigil. About eighteen hours after he initially collapsed, Ienzo stirred again. Demyx crossed over to him. “Hey,” he said. “Nice nap?”

Ienzo rubbed at his eyes, noticing the tube in his hand. “You’re still here.”

“Well, of course. You scared the crap out of me.”

Ienzo glanced down at his shirt, faintly stained with blood. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I… I should have listened.”

“Why don’t you trust me?”

“I do trust you,” Ienzo said.

“Then why didn’t you listen?”

He looked out the window. “I thought I was so close to a solution,” he said. “And… when Roxas and the others visited, seeing their faces so full of hope… and knowing that I gave it to them… I could not in good conscience take myself away.”

“Okay, but, you know if you had gone much longer without sleep, or even water , you might not have woken up.”

A long pause while he digested that. “Is it true what you said?”

“What?”

“To Even.”

“You… you heard all that?”

“Yes.”

He felt the blood rush to his face. “Yeah. It is. I care about you.” Demyx touched Ienzo’s cheek. “Why else would I get up in Ansem’s face?”

“You… did that?” He blanched.

“Yep. And he says I’m right. You’re going to rest. You and I are going to hardcore chill for at least a week. You’re going to learn from the expert.”

“A week away from my work? With you? That might be…” He nodded. “That might be manageable.”

Demyx kissed him once, lightly. “I’m glad you think so, because unfortunately it’s out of your hands. Doctor’s orders. Well… is Ansem a doctor?”

Ienzo shrugged. “He has at least one doctorate. I’m unsure if it’s in medicine.”

“Yeah. Well, either way, I’m right.”

Ienzo stretched. “I should like to clean up and change. Perhaps eat. I slept for so long but I could very nearly go back to sleep.”

“You need it. Do what your body wants.”

He nodded. After a moment’s pause, he kissed Demyx again. “I have missed you.”

Demyx squeezed his hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Ienzo slept the rest of the afternoon and into the next morning. When he finally came into the kitchen, he was looking a bit mussed, but his color was almost normal.

“Oh hey, you don’t look like a zombie anymore,” Demyx said.

“I do feel quite a lot better,” he admitted. “Not… good, but better.”

They had breakfast. Ienzo was wearing some thick green sweater Demyx had never seen before. He wondered how much of his white coat getup was actually a uniform. “So what do you want to do today?” Demyx asked.

“I’ve really… no idea,” he said. “I think we have different ideas what constitutes leisure.”

Demyx snapped his fingers. “I think I’ve got it. First thing we’re going to do is go back to bed.” When Ienzo blanched and turned bright red, Demyx started to panic. “Not like that! God, get your mind out of the gutter, Ienzo. Haven’t you ever spent the day in bed?”

“Well--maybe when I was very ill,” he said. He was still blushing. Demyx couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever thought about sex, but then before he could go very far down that path he abruptly cut off the train of thought.

“Maybe that’s what you need. Sometimes it’s good to just do nothing. ”

“That sounds… very nearly boring,” Ienzo said.

“Kinda the point. You gotta give your brain a rest. Away from all the stimuli.”

“Okay. I’ll try,” he said. “If only because my critical thinking feels dangerously frazzled.”

“That’s the spirit.”

They returned to his room. There was just enough room on the bed that they didn’t have to touch. Ienzo settled back down against the pillows. “So we just do nothing ,” he repeated.

“Yeah. Well, I mean, I guess you could read, or something. But nothing strenuous.” He got back up and turned towards the bookshelf and picked what seemed to be the first book in a series that took up a big part of it. “What about this one?”

Ienzo cracked a smile. “That one? I haven’t read it since I was a boy. It’s a silly fantasy story.”

“All the more reason to revisit it now. And besides, there’s got to be a reason you’ve kept it.”

“All right… well… I suppose…” But there was an eager glint in his eye.

Demyx settled down next to Ienzo on the bed so they could both see the page. The text was large, and Demyx wasn’t a slow reader by any account, but of course Ienzo was faster than him. “Can you go back? I missed that whole part.”

“Oh. Yes, of course.” He flipped back. “I have a better idea.” He began to read aloud in a low, soothing voice. At first it felt a little perfunctory, but then Demyx saw him disappear into the story, which was about ancient heroes and impossible magic and endless quests with disparate twists and turns. Somewhere in the reading he leaned against Demyx, apparently distracted, resting his head against his chest. Demyx let his arm curve around Ienzo’s waist. He didn’t tense or flinch away. The warmth and weight calmed him, easing an ache he hadn’t previously been aware of.

Several of the long, meandering chapters later, Ienzo marked the page and set the book aside. “Throat’s dry,” he said, and reached for the glass of water at the bedside table.

Demyx could listen to Ienzo talk for hours. But the silence was fine, too. Ienzo leaned back against him.

“Yes. I… think I could do with a week of this,” he mumbled.

For a long time they held each other. Demyx stroked his hair. The sleepy, comfortable tenderness of the moment lulled him into a sort of daze, and the next thing he knew he was waking up. They’d both slipped down against the pillows.

“We fell asleep,” Ienzo said softly. He cracked his neck and then winced at an apparent crick.

“Just a nap, I think.”

“I feel… soft, if that makes sense.” He ran his fingers through his hair to fix it, shook his head, and let it be a lost cause.

“Because you’re actually relaxing for once. All that tension you carry around all the time isn’t supposed to be there. The fact that this feels unfamiliar to you is more than a little concerning.”

“Times like this make me uncomfortably aware of my unusual upbringing,” he said with a shake of his head. “Maybe I was wrong about you. In the Organization, I mean. Maybe you weren’t as lazy as I thought.”

Demyx laughed. “No, I was. I really was.”

“Not so much anymore.”

“I wouldn’t go that far. You haven’t been around a whole lot lately. You don’t know what I get up to.”

“What is it you do all day?”

How could he admit that he was just waiting for Ienzo to get back? “Just kinda wander,” Demyx said. “Through the castle. Through town. I like exploring.”

“As do I. Part of the reason why I always looked forward to reconnaissance missions. People are so very fascinating . But now… it seems like I need a better understanding of myself. How do I synthesize Zexion and Ienzo? At some point do I draw a line between the two? How much of him still lives in me?”

“I think about the same thing every day,” Demyx admitted. “I feel like the last month or so has been one very long, very tedious identity crisis.”

““Tedious” surely is the right word for it.”

“Stressful.”

“Wrenching.”

“Annoying.”

Ienzo smiled. “I’m glad you understand.”

“‘Course I do.”

Ienzo hesitated for a moment, then threw his arms around Demyx, hugging tightly enough that he could actually feel his heart racing. The air shifted infetismally. Ienzo looked up at him. “May I ki--”

But Demyx, who had already picked up the hint, was already kissing him. There it was again, the sense of things becoming still deeper, still more intense. He understood Ienzo’s trepidation. It would be so easy to get lost in this, to let it unground him. Ienzo’s hands, at the small of his back, trembled. He pulled back the fabric of Demyx’s shirt until he found bare skin. As much self-control as he had, he couldn’t stop his body from reacting, and he got hard. If Ienzo noticed, he didn’t say anything, instead continuing to trace light patterns across Demyx’s back.

All the while he’d been waiting for Ienzo to be ready. Demyx wondered if he wasn’t as prepared as he thought. He broke away from the kiss and instead trailed across Ienzo’s jaw and throat. The soft gasp Ienzo made sent another flush of warmth through him.

“Let me know if you want to stop,” Demyx whispered.

“I don’t,” he said, in the strangest voice Demyx had ever heard from him. Demyx rested against him for a moment, feeling his heart going completely wild. They both fought for breath. “You’re shaking,” he added.

“Am I? I feel so much --”

“I do too.” He kissed him again. He delicately worked off Demyx’s shirt. Things between them were becoming heavy, and weighty. Ienzo didn’t resist when Demyx took off his sweater, but before things went much further than that he saw the scarring.

That day in the study room, the scars hadn’t looked very prominent. But now they were impossible to ignore. They cut across Ienzo’s collarbone and the base of his throat. Suddenly Demyx understood his preference for high-collared shirts.

But--Zexion hadn’t had those scars--

Ienzo seemed to come to his senses for a moment. “It’s how I passed,” he said quietly. “As a Nobody.”

Demyx touched them. The skin was soft, slightly ridged; he pressed his lips against it. Ienzo pushed up against him and and Demyx noticed for the first time that he was also--

He shifted his weight, pulling Ienzo under him, and for a moment they were all hands and mouths and a disjointed tangle of longing before they pulled apart.

“I can’t,” Ienzo stuttered. “I want to, but I--”

Part of him was relieved. “I know. Me too. It’s just so… much. I thought I was ready. But I…” He lay back down on the bed next to Ienzo. He gave him as much space as the bed allowed. Ienzo stared up at the ceiling. Demyx thought he had gone nonverbal, but then he spoke.

“...Does it hurt?”

Demyx blinked. “Does it--you mean--?”

Without making eye contact, he nodded.

“No. I mean, it’s uncomfortable the first time, a little, but it doesn’t hurt.”

“So you’ve done it, then?”

“...A few times. Not that much.” He swallowed, feeling self-conscious. He sat up. “To clarify, we’re talking about sex, right? Not astrophysics? Because if that’s the case I’m hopeless.”

Ienzo laughed.

“Like I said. When we’re ready. If we’re ready. I shouldn’t assume--”

“When,” Ienzo said quietly.