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-x- DAY ONE -x-

M-O-R-N-I-N-G

It was fantastic.

Completely and utterly fantastic.

So fucking fantastic, in fact, that he couldn't understand why the hell he had agreed to this.

Of course he had loved his grandfather. That was common knowledge. After all, Emilian Hearne was the one that taught him everything he knew – how to sing, how to camp, how to cook, even how to play the sitar. But two weeks ago, the Romani man had passed away, leaving everything in his old house to one Demyx Hearne, his loving grandson.

So there Demyx stood, in front of the creaking house, in the blistering heat, wondering for the thousandth time just why the hell he had agreed to clean out the house by himself. Wiping beads of sweat from his forehead, he studied the porch carefully, re-memorizing every nook and cranny, memories of many summers spent at the house resurfacing. Around him, birds chirped and deer frolicked and the calm breeze danced through the surrounding forest, gently rustling the leaves. With a heavy sigh, the blonde teen swept a hand through his styled hair and finally moved to the back of his car.

“Might as well get this over with...” he muttered, pulling a duffel bag from the trunk of his blue Nissan Altima – 1998 model, if you must know – and slamming the door shut before looking up at the house once more. He scanned the side of the house, noticing that the trim around some of the the windows had begun to rot. His eyes landed on one window in particular – the room his grandfather had occupied since he immigrated to America from France in the early 1900's. Pursing his lips, Demyx began walking forward, slowly approaching the house, cerulean eyes lingering on the window a mere moment longer – just long enough, in fact, to see a shimmer of movement from inside the darkened room. He stopped mid-step, blinking a few times, wondering if someone was inside. But it was impossible – both his grandfather, and his grandmother, the only two to ever live in the house, were deceased. With a shudder, and a deep breath, he disregarded it as a figment of his imagination and continued to the door, fishing the key from his pocket and sticking it into the lock. Turning it until he heard the satisfying click, Demyx pushed open the door, and stepped inside.

“Fuck!” he cursed as soon as he crossed the threshold, dropping his bag in favor of hugging his arms around himself, trying to conserve what little body heat he managed to retain. It was so fucking cold inside the house. Shivering violently, teeth chattering, he stepped over the discarded duffel and made for the thermostat, aiming to turn on the heater. But as he read the numbers on the digital screen, his arms fell limply to his sides, and he could only gape at the display.

69 degrees.

“You're shitting me...” he muttered, narrowing his eyes at the numbers. But they didn't change. He continued to study the thermostat for a few moments before moving away, deciding that he was just a little apprehensive about the whole situation. After all, it had only been two weeks ago that Grandpa Emilian had been wandering about this house, going about his normal business when...

BANG!

Demyx visibly jumped, swiveling around so that he was facing the entryway to the dining room, where a long oak table sat, surrounded by several chairs. A blue tablecloth was draped diagonally across the surface, a dying fern set as the centerpiece.

“Hello...? Is anyone here?” he called, taking a hesitant step forward. When no one answered, he took a deep breath and continued forward, scanning the room before moving toward the adjacent kitchen.

BANG!!

It was louder this time; closer. Demyx inhaled shakily before shuffling closer into the kitchen.

BANG!!

He saw it. The cabinet next to the microwave was just opening and slamming shut on its own. A scream gathered in his throat, but he quickly stifled it, stepping into the kitchen. As the door opened once more, he lunged for it, catching it before it could shut again. From the corner of his eye, he thought he saw someone standing off to the side, his arms crossed. When he turned his head, though, the figure vanished, and with it, the abrupt chilliness that had filled the house.

“Damn... What was that all about?” he muttered under his breath, shutting the cabinet door gently.

RR-RRING!

“Fuck!” he cursed, starting once more at the sudden noise. Immediately, his gaze drifted to the phone, eyes narrowing in a threatening glare. “Frikkin' phone ringing right after...” With a sigh, he walked over to the phone and picked it up, pressing it to his ear after flicking the cord away.

“Yo.” he greeted the other person, approaching the refrigerator, phone balanced between his shoulder and head.

“Demyx? Is everything alright over there? What time did you get in? Was the trip okay? Have any of your friends called yet? Do they even know you're there? Is the forest alright?” his mom immediately questioned upon hearing his voice. Demyx shook his head, yanking open the door to the refrigerator and looking around inside.

“Mom, calm down,” he said, moving aside a jar of horseradish. “Everything's fine. I got in about five minutes ago, the trip was uneventful because Grampa's house is only ten minutes away, my friends don't know I'm here, but I'm sure you'll tell them, and of course the forest is alright.”

Adalwolfa Hearne was a beautiful woman, with long, curly blonde hair and a round face. It was from her side of the family that Demyx had inherited most of his looks, blessing him with blonde hair and blue eyes, whereas his dad's side of the family had dark hair, eyes, and skin – the traditional Romani appearance. But Adalwolfa was constantly worried about her son, and, for reasons unknown to Demyx, she would become more protective than usual whenever he visited his grandfather. When he had approached her with the idea of going to Emilian's house – alone – she nearly went into cardiac arrest. But that didn't stop him from pursuing the subject, leaving Adalwolfa practically no choice in the matter; after all, it was Demyx that Emilian had given everything to, not his daughter-in-law. So, he was allowed to go, not only because the house was, in fact, right down the road, but also because he had to promise to call at least two times a day.

But today it looked as if his mother had beaten him to the punch, Demyx thought, pulling a small container of yogurt from the fridge. He opened it and sniffed at it tentatively, but threw it away when he saw green splotches of mold in the yogurt, completely ignoring his mother's ranting for the moment. He then continued to rummage through the fridge, answering whatever question his mother fired off at him.

“Did you find anything to eat?” she asked, to which Demyx merely responded with, “I'm looking right now, but everything's all icky.”

“Icky?” Adalwolfa replied, sighing. “Who put that word in your vocabulary when you were little and forgot to take it out?”

“Mom, that doesn't even make sense.” Demyx shut the door to the fridge and opened the adjacent freezer, pulling out a frozen Ziploc bag of... something.

“Sure it does! Think about it, Demy, it's not that hard.”

“Fine, fine, it's not, I get it. I think I'm going to go grocery shopping later.” He threw the bag of something onto the counter and pulled out another Ziploc bag, this one filled with golden goo.

“How long are you planning on staying there?”

“However long it takes me to get this stuff to the storage area.” He inspected the golden goo carefully before opening it, breaking a chunk off, and sticking it into his mouth. Applesauce.

“I really would rather you had a friend there with you...” Adalwolfa's voice was filled with concern as she relayed her desire for the hundredth time.

“I know, I know. But everyone was busy. Axel's at work most of the week, or with Roxas, Xigbar has to get ready for that competition at the shooting range later this week, and Marluxia is just... Marluxia.”

“I would rather you didn't hang out with Marluxia, Demy. That boy is a bad influence on you.”

“Pfft, please, Mom. You don't see me fucking everything on two legs.” Demyx replied without hesitation, first taking the bag of frozen applesauce and dropping it into a bowl, then sticking it in the microwave that hung above the counter.

“Demyx Hearne! What have I told you before about language?!” his mother snapped, and the sound of her hand slamming down on something carried through the phone line. Demyx cringed; he'd known that his mother wouldn't tolerate cursing, but it had just slipped out. He hadn't meant to say it.

“Sorry, Mom.” he apologized, punching in two minutes on the microwave. Adalwolfa sighed heavily, and Demyx could hear her adjust the phone.

“I know, you didn't mean it. It's fine.” she paused a moment before continuing. “I should probably go. Your father's going to be here any minute and I promised I'd go out with him today. I love you, Demy. Be safe.”

“I will be. I mean, what could possibly happen?” he said, listening as the microwave beeped a couple of times before reaching up and taking out the bowl of semi-frozen applesauce, setting it on the counter.

“I just... It... Nevermind. I love you, Demy. Miss you already.” her voice was gentler than before, and Demyx couldn't help the smile that crept onto his face.

“Love you too, Mom. Tell Dad I said 'Hi!' for me, 'kay?” Demyx pulled open the nearest drawer, taking out a large spoon.

“Of course, Demy. Talk to you later. Bye!”

“Bye, Mom.” He shifted the phone back into his hand and walked over to the wall, putting the white phone back into its cradle.

“Demyx...”

Demyx turned and looked over his shoulder, eyes darting around the room. Sighing, he brought a hand up and scratched the back of his head.

“Must be hearing things...” he muttered, returning to the counter and eagerly attending to his bowl of applesauce.

-x- DAY ONE -x-

E-V-E-N-I-N-G

Ahhh, the blessed creation of TV, combined with his grandfather's desire to keep in touch with the rest of the world. Demyx was currently curled up in the corner of the old couch, a bowl of cereal in one hand, the remote in the other. Despite the strange events of the morning, he had gone on with his day, going through various items Emilian had possessed, trying to decide what he wanted to keep and what he didn't.

“... In other news, the heavily decomposed body of a young girl was discovered earlier today in the backyard of business tycoon and multi-millionaire, Mr. Shinra, 41. It was uncovered by family friend and fellow businessman, Luxord Wallis, 39, during a party held in celebration of Mr. Shinra's only child's, Rufus Shinra, 24, recent graduation from Heart of the Kingdom University, with a degree in...”

“Depressing subject matter, that's what.” Demyx scoffed, flipping to another channel, where 'Oblivion' by 30 Seconds to Mars was playing. Throwing the remote to the side, he took a rather large bite out of his cereal, chewing noisily as he watched the video end, and an interview begin.

“Sora! Sora Kayaki! A few questions, if you would!” A reporter was trailing behind a brunette with spiked hair, demanding to know something. The boy turned and faced the camera, his bright blue eyes narrowed to slits. The camera panned down to his hand, where his fingers were interlaced with those of his companion, a silver-haired teen with piercing turquoise eyes.

“No more f—ing questions!” he muttered, glaring fiercely at the woman. The camera panned upward once more, stopping at the woman's head. She seemed taken aback for a moment before pursuing the matter further, focusing instead on the silver-haired boy.

“Riku Karada, how do you feel about the disappearance of fellow bandmate, and lead singer of Oathkeeper's Oblivion, Kairi Osaka?” she questioned, holding the microphone up to Riku. He only snorted and pushed the electronic out of his face.

“I think that you need to go now,” he hissed vehemently, turning to leave. But the reporter wouldn't give up just yet. Demyx could only laugh at her stupidity, predicting that one of the pair was going to snap, and soon.

“Any comment on the relationship you two have?!” she yelled. The two stopped midstep. “Tabloids are saying that you two are an item, but what do you have to say about it?!”

“What do we... Would you leave us alone already?!” Sora screamed. “I'm f—ing concerned about Kairi's safety! Of course I am! She's like my sister! But worrying over it isn't going to help any! If anything, it will drive me insane! And so what if Riku and I are dating?! That's none of your f—ing business!!” Riku put a hand on the brunette's shoulder, but did not interrupt his rant. The cameraman returned to the reporter, who could only smile nervously in response, before panning back to the couple.

“Could you please leave now?” Riku asked of the woman, who only nodded a little, stunned at the brunette's violent reaction – although she really shouldn't have been. Sora had buried his head in his boyfriend's chest, fingers gripping the front of Riku's shirt. The silver-haired teen was holding Sora as tightly to him as he could, giving off a protective aura. Demyx smiled a little at the display; he had wondered when the two would get together. Putting his now-empty cereal bowl on the coffee table in front of him, he grabbed the remote and changed the channel again, this time landing on some sort of children's show. With a yawn, he threw his hands up over his head and stretched for a moment before looking out the glass door to his left. The sun was setting behind the mountains, casting an orange-ish-pink glow over the valley. Behind him, a grandfather clock began to chime.

DING!

Demyx snuggled down into the couch further, grabbing a throw pillow and stuffing it between his head and the arm.

DING!

He yawned again, staring at his cereal bowl for a moment before looking once more at the TV.

DING!

“Y-R-P's new album on sale soon!” the announcer promised, giving viewers a peace sign. Demyx only snorted in response.

DING!

“Don't these people ever get tired of showing the same crap over and over?” he muttered tiredly as the cartoon resumed; it was an episode he'd already seen ages ago.

DING!

“'F' is for friends who do stuff together, 'U' is for you and me! 'N' is for anywhere at anytime at all down here in the deep blue sea!!” With a small chuckle, Demyx mouthed the words to the song, vaguely remembering that him and Axel had once paraded down the halls of their high school, arms linked, singing it at the top of their lungs.

DING!

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes for a moment, re-opening them.

DING!

A figure stood before him. Light from the dying sun cast him in darkness, but Demyx was certain that this was the teen he had spotted earlier from the corner of his eye. The teen was frowning, his arms cross over his chest. There was a saddened expression on his face. Shadowed lips moved, mouthing something.

DING!

Demyx squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block the man from his memory. He's not supposed to be there. When he re-opened his eyes, the figure was gone. Sitting up and rubbing his arms, he glanced around the room once more, as if to ensure himself it was empty. Nothing was out of place. Rubbing his eyes, he stood up and stretched again before grabbing the cereal bowl and shuffling off to the kitchen.

“I'm just imagining things...”

-x- DAY ONE -x-

N-I-G-H-T

Heavy footsteps thudded against the wood floor, pacing back and forth back and forth outside his door. A voice was talking, muttering incoherent sentences, filling the hall with his raspy whispers.

...Nngh...

Shadows flitted from wall to wall in his room, on the outside of the house, in the hallway, devouring any and all light.

...Hm...

A shriek of sheer pain echoed in the house. It was whispery, low; a male's voice.

...Mmmm...

A terrible scratching sound resounded in the halls; thin cuts appeared in the walls, slowly becoming deeper and deeper, resembling words with every scratch. From each mutilated word dripped a thick red substance. The walls were bleeding.

Demyx didn't wake up once that night.

-x- DAY TWO -x-

M-O-R-N-I-N-G

“What the fuck...?” Were the first three words out of Demyx's mouth when he stepped out of his bedroom the next morning. Lifting up his foot, he inspected the substance he had just stepped in – blood. Blue eyes widened as he tore off his now-stained white sock and threw it at the wall, watching as it slid down before eying the puddles of blood. He staggered back a few steps, gaze drifting up the wall, slowly tracing the jagged cuts that had been engraved into the wall.

Find Sanctuary

The words had been carved over and over and over into the walls of the hallway, reaching from one end to the other. And from them, a dark red substance had overflowed, landing in a puddle on the ground. A rather large puddle, at that.

“Dammit!” Demyx cursed, tearing out of his room, not caring that his pajama pants were quickly becoming soaked with the strange liquid with every desperate step. His wet feet caused him to slide down the stairs, leaving large smudges of crimson in his wake. As he dove for the living room, he turned, and came face to face with the single most horrifying man he'd ever seen in his entire life.

What would have been flawless tan skin was marred with gashes of varying intensity that seemed to span his entire upper body. His silvery hair was stained a deep russet colour, causing Demyx to gasp and bring his hands up in front of him – a meager defense, at best. But what startled the blonde the most was the utterly empty look the man's amber eyes gave him. It was as if the man was without a soul.

“Wha-Who are you?!” Demyx demanded, his voice cracking at the end of the sentence. The man's thin lips twisted into a wicked sort of smile, making Demyx's stomach do flips.

“G-Get out of my house!” the blonde screamed, his voice bordering on hysteric. The man shook his head, taking a menacing step forward. Despite the fact his mind was screaming for him to move, move, get out of there, now!, Demyx's feet refused to budge. The man took another menacing step forward. The hairs on the back of Demyx's neck stood on end as he was suddenly embraced by an arctic chill. A scarred hand reached out for the teenager, but halted abruptly when the man's gaze sharply averted to something else entirely.

In the corner of the room, another figure stood, arms braced in front of him. Demyx quickly recognized it as the shadow from the night before.

“Xehanort!” a voice echoed throughout the house. “Don't touch him!” The scarred man chuckled softly, threateningly, turning fully to face the shadow figure.

“Stay out of this, Zexion,” came the harsh response. The man flickered out of sight for a moment, and Demyx breathed a sigh of relief. But it caught in his throat when he reappeared in front of the shadow figure, tanned hands grasping, squeezing the smaller's throat. The shadow clawed at the scarred hands, letting out a strangled scream that fell upon deaf ears.

And then they were gone.

Demyx squeezed his eyes shut, opening them after a moment. The two really were gone. Pursing his lips, he glanced up the stairs, cerulean eyes landing on the step he'd slipped on.

The strange substance was gone as well.

-x- DAY TWO -x-

A-F-T-E-R-N-O-O-N

“Mom, no, I'm fine. Nothing happened to me, I swear. It was just a figment of my imagination, or something. I didn't get a lot of sleep last night, okay? So, don't worry.” Demyx tried to reassure the hysterical Adalwolfa, but was failing in his attempt to do so.

“No! Demy, I want you to come home right this instant!” his mother commanded. Demyx sighed, stirring his bowl of applesauce – leftovers from yesterday.

“It's fine, Mom, seriously. Nothing else has happened, I swear. I'm going to start going through the stuff as soon as I finish this bowl of applesauce, alright? I'll try to be home later this week,” he stated, taking a bite of applesauce.

“No, it's not fine! You could have been hurt, Demy! I'm serious, I want you to come home. We'll have someone else go through Grandpa Emilian's belongings,” his mother pleaded, but Demyx wasn't budging in his decision.

“But the fact of the matter is that I wasn't hurt in the least, right? Right. So, I'm going to stay and go through Grampa's stuff, then come home Friday or Saturday; Sunday at the latest,” he promised. Adalwolfa sighed heavily.

“You're not going to be persuaded otherwise, are you?” she whispered. Demyx grinned, knowing he'd won the fight.

“Nope!”

“You're as stubborn as a freaking mule, Demyx Hearne. You promise you'll be home by Sunday at the latest?”

“I swear on my puppy's life!” he declared, mock saluting to no one in particular.

“Demy, your puppy died three years ago. It drowned. In the bathtub.”

“Details, details,” he dismissed, waving his hand. “But I promise I'll be home by Sunday at the latest. That's, what, four days? It'll all turn out fine, you'll see.”

“I certainly hope so... I love you Demy, I really do. Be careful, alright? I don't want to see my beautiful baby boy hurt.”

“I love you too, Mom. I'll see you Sunday,” he replied, aimlessly stirring his applesauce.

“Alright... I'm holding you to that. I'll see you then. Don't forget to take your medicine – I forgot to remind you yesterday.” Demyx grunted in response, taking the bowl to the sink and running some water into it.

“Fuck... It's still in the car,” he muttered to himself more than anything, but his mother caught it anyway.

“Language!!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm sorry. Now I'm gonna go so I can get my medicine, okay? I'll call you later,” he sighed, wiping my hands on the kitchen towel.

“Be safe, Demy. Love you, talk to you later.” And with that, she hung up. Demyx shook his head, crossing the room to return the phone to its cradle.

“Medicine, medicine, medicine. That's all she was worried about when I was home, too,” he whined, grabbing his car keys from the counter before heading out the front door.

His car sat in the spot he'd parked it in the previous day. Demyx walked up to it and popped the trunk, pulling out his medicine bag, as well as his CD case before slamming the door shut once more and locking it. As he shuffled the items around so that they were more comfortable to carry, movement in his grandfather's bedroom caught his attention. Cerulean eyes gazed through the window, eyes locking with the startling violet eyes of the shadow man. Even with the distance between the car and the house, Demyx could see the man's lips move, saying something indecipherable before the figure vanished once more.

“Dammit...” he cursed, rubbing his eyes. “I really do need to take my medication...”

-x- DAY TWO -x-

E-V-E-N-I-N-G

“Ugggh! Grampa, why did you keep so much stuff?!” the blonde complained, flopping down onto the sofa. After taking his medication, the strange occurrences came to an almost immediate halt, leaving Demyx to sort through Emilian's belongings in peace... Well, as peaceful as it could be with his music blaring at full volume. He reached around blindly for the remote, turning on the TV once he had located it and flipping to the news.

“Today's top story: The body of the young girl found in Mr. Shinra's backyard has been identified as the seventeen-year-old lead singer of Oathkeeper's Oblivion, Kairi Osaka. A forensic analysis has concluded that Ms. Osaka had been alive when she was buried, nearly two months ago. Sources say that the last time they had seen Ms. Osaka alive was backstage after a particularly good concert, talking to a hooded man,” the news anchor announced, shifting his papers around on the desk. A video report began playing in memory of the girl, as Demyx suspected it had been doing all day, pictures of the young singer flashing on screen. Demyx couldn't help but think she was nothing but beautiful, and found himself momentarily mourning her untimely death.

“We don't know why anyone would do this to Kairi... She was such a sweet, cheerful, optimistic young lady with an amazing life ahead of her. To have that ripped away from her at such a young age is not only a great shame, it's a huge disappointment to all her fans,” a woman said – presumably Kairi's manager. Demyx was proven correct when the video switched to the woman and her name faded onto the screen. Underneath it was her title – Manager of Oathkeeper's Oblivion. “Sora and Riku are crushed. In light of Kairi's disappearance and the recent discovery of her body, they found each other to seek solace in. They will recover in time, but I am saddened to announce that the band will be put on an indefinite hiatus from now on.” With a heavy sigh, he switched the channel back to the music channel he'd been watching the day before.

“Sora Kayaki! Do you wish to comment on the uncovering of Kairi's body in Mr. Shinra's backyard?!”

“Riku! Riku, a moment please! What are your thoughts on the current situation?!”

“Karada! Riku Karada! I'm from the Twilight Town Gazette! Could you please tell me your reaction to the news of Kairi's death?!”

Reporters were swarming outside of what Demyx assumed to be Sora and Riku's apartment. The couple was standing on the front steps, Riku's turquoise eyes narrowed into a fierce glare.

“All of you, shut up!!” Sora barked, his temper flaring. “Go crawl in a ditch and die! Leave us alone!” Riku nodded, drawing the younger boy close to him as he turned to enter the house.

“Leave us the f—ck alone,” the silver-haired teen whispered. A hush fell upon the reporters, save for the continuous clicking of camera shutters going off, everyone watching as the two went inside the apartment, slamming the door shut behind them. Snorting, Demyx swung his legs over the side of the couch, making his way towards the shelves next to the TV, intent on finding a decent movie to watch.

“Old... old... old... Geez, they're all old! Then how about... Eh, this'll do.” he muttered to himself, taking Blazing Saddles off the shelf and sticking it in the DVD player.

“I hate this movie...”

Demyx's head snapped to attention, his eyes quickly scanning the room. Pursing his lips, he shook his head and stood up, returning to the couch. Just another figment of my imagination... Medication must be wearing off...

But it wasn't, for the voice spoke again about fifteen minutes into the movie.

“This movie is idiotic and childish, to a certain extent.”

“Who's there?!” Demyx called as soon as the voice had spoken again. Silence followed. Sighing for what had to of been the hundredth time that day, he continued watching the movie.

Thirty seconds later, though, the TV became clouded with white noise and static, canceling out the movie. Demyx couldn't help but be puzzled at this because the TV was practically brand new. After trying every method he could think of to repair the device, one of which including a mango and the salsa dance, he gave up with an agitated growl, pulling the DVD from the DVD player.

“I told you I hated that movie.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Demyx growled, looking around the room again, unable to spot anything out of the ordinary. When he received no response, he put the movie back on the shelf and shut off the TV.

“I'm going to bed, now,” he announced to no one in particular. “So don't worry about the stupid movie. And before that, I'm going to take my medication, and then you'll disappear because you're just a figment of my imagination.”

“Medication? You never told me you were on medication.”

“Oh look, you're back.” Demyx laughed, shaking his head. “Why am I having a conversation with a voice in my mind?”

“Why are you on medication?”

“I am under no obligation to answer that. Good night!” Demyx jumped up from the couch and skipped to the kitchen, where he took his medicine, before heading upstairs.

What he wasn't aware of were the violet eyes that followed his every movement.

-x- DAY TWO -x-

N-I-G-H-T

Skritch skritch skritch

“Poor kid...”

Scratch scratch scratch

“Zexion!”

Ker-thunk ker-thunk ker-thunk

“Dammit! Don't touch the boy!”

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

“Why protect him, Zexion?”

Shuffle shuffle shuffle

“Because... Because he can't protect himself from you!”

Cough cough gasp

“It's useless, Zexion.”

Thud

Zexion's lifeless body slumped to the floor, empty eyes staring up at Xehanort.

“I will make you relive this nightmare as long as it takes, Zexion.”

“... Ungh...”

Demyx groaned and shifted around on his bed, but did not wake, remaining unaware of the activity going on right outside his door.

-x- DAY THREE -x-

M-O-R-N-I-N-G

“... You're lucky he doesn't come into this room...”

Demyx stirred and slowly opened his eyes, glancing around the room. Nothing. Sitting up, he scratched the back of his head before yawning, which, of course, led to a big stretch. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he stood, stretching again, ignoring the popping noise from his spine, then shuffled to the door. Grabbing the doorknob, he began to turn it before having second thoughts. What if the hallway was the same as the previous day? What if the scarred man was waiting for him? What if the shadow man was? Taking a deep breath, he pulled the door open a crack, hesitating a moment before throwing it open.

The hallway was completely empty.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he stepped out in the hallway and thudded down the stairs to begin his day.

Which he quickly found he couldn't do because his medication was missing.

“Where the hell is it?!” he screamed after twenty straight minutes of fruitless searching. Taking one last glance around the kitchen, Demyx headed to the living room, where his efforts were also in vain.

“Tell me, for what do you need medication?”

“For voices like you!” he yelled, tearing a cushion off the couch. A soft laugh echoed in the empty room as Demyx fell to his knees and peered under the couch. After a moment, he sat up and glanced around the room again.

“Instead of laughing at me, how about you tell me where my medication is?” he demanded. Another laugh could be heard, quieter this time, before somebody crept up behind Demyx and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Try the bathroom counter.” the person suggested. Demyx shrugged, standing, looking over his shoulder to thank him...

Only to be greeted by an unfamiliar face.

“Wh-wh-who are you?! Get out of my house!!” he screamed, falling backward, landing on the ground with an audible THUD, before turning and crawling backwards.

“... Are you done acting like a complete imbecile?” the stranger questioned after Demyx had staggered into a standing position. The blonde teenager responded by throwing the TV remote at the stranger, only to watch as the device flew through him and smashed against the far wall. Strangely, Demyx seemed calmed by this.

“Good. You're only another hallucination...” he sighed, walking through the figure and flopping down on the couch, stretching out, closing his eyes. The stranger only raised an eyebrow before moving and sitting on the arm of the couch.

“Another hallucination? You mean that they are a normal occurrence for you?” he asked, peering down at the teen's face. Demyx mumbled something incoherently before sighing. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Demyx asked, slinging an arm over his eyes, blocking out the annoyingly bright sunlight streaming from the nearby glass doors.

“What was that you said?” the stranger clarified, glancing out said glass doors, missing the shrug that Demyx gave in response.

“I said that when I take my medication, you'll vanish. You're really just like all the other hallucinations,” the blonde muttered. “But before that happens, what's your name?”

“My name? If I am merely an illusion, as you suggest, then it would not matter if I told you my name, for you would forget me minutes after taking your medication,” the stranger retaliated, grey eyes returning to Demyx, who only smiled.

“But that takes the fun out of it, doesn't it?” he asked, uncovering his eyes and actually looking at the stranger. Cerulean orbs traced the thin face of the man, noticing how young he actually looked – sixteen? Seventeen? – taking in the unusual slate colour of the man's hair and the ever-so-popular “emo” style haircut, before locking his gaze with strangely familiar violet eyes. Silence reigned supreme for several moments before the stranger spoke up.

“Zexion.”

“What?” Demyx jumped at the sudden vocalization.

“My name,” the stranger looked to the side, looking almost... saddened. Demyx blinked a few times in confusion before smiling.

“So you're the one that helped me yesterday,” he said, sitting up and turning to face Zexion.

“Y-Yes, I am...” the slate-haired teen muttered, hesitantly returning his gaze to Demyx.

“Thank you! I know that my hallucinations can get bad, but that man yesterday was the worst one yet. Makes ya wonder what's going on in the back of my mind...” Zexion looked a little surprised to hear this, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

“If it bothers you so much, go take your medication,” he suggested, gesturing towards the bathroom door. Demyx shook his head, looking around.

“Nah, I think I want to keep you around for awhile. It was too quiet yesterday.” Sliding off the couch, he stretched for the last time before slinking off to the kitchen.

“Maybe quiet is best...” Zexion whispered. Demyx shook his head, opening his CD case and pulling out a CD.

“So, you like Sparky's Flaw?”

-x- DAY THREE -x-

A-F-T-E-R-N-O-O-N

“And your grandfather, he was purebred Romani?” Zexion questioned, now perched on the very table Demyx had noticed when he had entered the house three mere days ago, watching as the blonde nodded enthusiastically before sticking a spoonful of cereal in his mouth, waiting for him to swallow.

“Yeah. He moved here from France when he was little,” Demyx responded after a moment. “His mother, Anicia, came to America when her husband was arrested on false charges and, eventually, executed. Obviously, since he was born in France and his mother always spoke French around him, he was fluent in French, as well as English, since he grew up here,” Demyx explained, smiling cheerfully. Zexion seemed intrigued by his family history, and was more than willing to listen to the blonde's excited ramblings about his family.

“Are you fluent in French as well?” Zexion asked, curiously looking at Demyx, who only laughed and shook his head.

“I know enough to tide me over for the time being. As in, if I went to France, I'd probably get punched in the face because my pronunciation is horrible.” Zexion chuckled softly, then smirked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“C'est trop mal,” he said, his accent perfect. Demyx sneered, rolling his eyes getting up to go to the kitchen and dump his bowl in the sink.

“Yeah well... Ta mère est une putain!” the blonde retaliated, sticking his tongue out before walking into the living room, Zexion floating closely behind him. Demyx had never really asked why his companion floated, though. It was only an illusion, or so he continued to tell himself.

“My mother was not a whore, Demyx.”

“Yeah well... How would you know? You came from my mind, after all,” Demyx retorted, turning on the TV. Zexion rolled his eyes and sat down on the back of the couch. And they sat there, a comfortable silence surrounding them as they watched Riku and Sora be pummeled by reporters continuously.

“I do not understand. Why do they not leave the couple alone?” Zexion asked after several moments of silence. Demyx just shrugged.

“Because a gay couple of such high standing is quite the scandal, as you can imagine. I don't know why they continue to pester them, though. It may be wrong to them, but to Sora and Riku, they couldn't imagine it any other way.”

“This scenario seems to bother you. Care to tell why?”

“You sound like my psychiatrist, Zexy!” Demyx whined, silencing when Riku turned and faced the woman reporter that had chased them around a couple days ago and promptly backhanded her.

“... That's assault!!” someone screamed from amidst the chaos that was unfolding on the TV. Riku didn't seem to be too worried about the imminent lawsuit, having grabbed Sora's arm and continued down the street.

“You're going to go to jail, Riku Karada!” someone else declared, to which Riku replied with the finger. Demyx sighed, picking up the remote changing the channel. The opening to Beautiful Soul filled the room.

“This guy, Jesse McCartney?” Demyx began, pointing to the singer. “When he talks, his voice reminds me of Roxas'.”

“Who's Roxas?” Zexion questioned.

“My best friend's, Axel's, boyfriend. They act like they hate each other sometimes, but it's really just an act. You can tell how strongly they feel for each other just by looking at them,” Demyx explained, earning a slight nod from Zexion.

“That explains your reaction to the whole Riku and Sora situation,” the slate-haired teen muttered under his breath. The blonde agreed with a small grunt.

“... Well... that, and other things...” he trailed off, suddenly finding the ceiling much more interesting.

“That...” Zexion thought about the forgotten statement, attempting to piece it together in his head. It wasn't that hard. “That you... find no attraction to the female species?” Demyx shook his head violently, only to stop after a moment, nodding.

“Well... yes, and no...” the blonde said softly, gaze dropping to his hands in his lap.

“Then... uhm...” Zexion paused, searching for the right words. “No discrimination...?”

“Erm, yeah...” Zexion didn't notice the pale blush that had made it's way onto the blonde's face. “Well! Time to go through Grampa's stuff! Up, up, and away!” Demyx suddenly declared, jumping off the couch and dashing towards the stairs, leaving behind Zexion, whose face was twisted into a bitter smile.

-x- DAY THREE -x-

E-V-E-N-I-N-G

Eight hours ago, Demyx had woken up and met an illusion named Zexion.

Five hours ago, Demyx had confessed to Zexion that he was bisexual – the only person to know besides Axel.

Two hours ago, Demyx had taken his medication, thus banishing Zexion from all thought.

One hour ago, Demyx had collapsed on the couch, asleep almost instantly, so very tired from sorting through his grandfather's various possessions.

“Beautiful... Simply beautiful... Such a shame,” a hoarse voice whispered. An icy chill spread across the room, leaving frost on the windows and glass door as well as a thin layer of ice over the various plants that littered the room. Demyx shivered in his sleep, unconsciously hugging his arms to himself, drawing his knees up to his chest.

“Xehanort,” another voice rang out. The silver-haired man smirked, flexing his hand, before turning to face Zexion.

“You can't protect him here, Zexion,” he said slowly, taking a step towards the teen. Zexion didn't move, crossing his arms in what seemed like defiance.

“I can try!” Zexion spat in response, narrowing his violet eyes into a glare, garnering a soft chuckle from the other man.

“You will not succeed,” Xehanort decided resolutely, arms outstretched. Torn hands wrapped around Zexion's pale neck, squeezing softly at first. The teen's hands clawed and clawed at Xemnas' arms as the man applied more and more pressure, but his efforts were in vain. Coughing, he gasped for air, trying to breathe.

“Unngh... Zexion...?” Demyx called in his sleep, shifting until he was laying on his side before settling again.

And when he later sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes, no one was there.

-x- DAY THREE -x-

N-I-G-H-T

“Turn off the radio.”

“No. I like this song.”

“I said turn off the radio.”

“I said no.”

“What did I say?!”

“Nothing worthwhile.”

Silence hung heavily in the air for a long moment.

“Some boy talked to me today.”

“That's nice.”

“He seems nice.”

“Is he gay?”

“Excuse me?”

“I asked if he was like you.”

“That has nothing to do with it!”

“He's the one you wer–”

“I said that has no– look out!”

The ear-shattering squeal of tires filled the air, then complete and utter quiet.

Demyx shot up in bed, sweat pouring down his face, cerulean eyes wide, wildly searching the room. His breath came in short gasps, his heart pounding against his chest.

“What... the fuck was that...?” he questioned the empty room around him.

Description
-x- DAY ONE -x-

M-O-R-N-I-N-G

It was fantastic.

Completely and utterly fantastic.

So fucking fantastic, in fact, that he couldn't understand why the hell he had agreed to this.

Of course he had loved his grandfather. That was common knowledge. After all, Emilian Hearne was the one that taught him everything he knew – how to sing, how to camp, how to cook, even how to play the sitar. But two weeks ago, the Romani man had passed away, leaving everything in his old house to one Demyx Hearne, his loving grandson.

So there Demyx stood, in front of the creaking house, in the blistering heat, wondering for the thousandth time just why the hell he had agreed to clean out the house by himself. Wiping beads of sweat from his forehead, he studied the porch carefully, re-memorizing every nook and cranny, memories of many summers spent at the house resurfacing. Around him, birds chirped and deer frolicked and the calm breeze danced through the surrounding forest, gently rustling the leaves. With a heavy sigh, the blonde teen swept a hand through his styled hair and finally moved to the back of his car.

“Might as well get this over with...” he muttered, pulling a duffel bag from the trunk of his blue Nissan Altima – 1998 model, if you must know – and slamming the door shut before looking up at the house once more. He scanned the side of the house, noticing that the trim around some of the the windows had begun to rot. His eyes landed on one window in particular – the room his grandfather had occupied since he immigrated to America from France in the early 1900's. Pursing his lips, Demyx began walking forward, slowly approaching the house, cerulean eyes lingering on the window a mere moment longer – just long enough, in fact, to see a shimmer of movement from inside the darkened room. He stopped mid-step, blinking a few times, wondering if someone was inside. But it was impossible – both his grandfather, and his grandmother, the only two to ever live in the house, were deceased. With a shudder, and a deep breath, he disregarded it as a figment of his imagination and continued to the door, fishing the key from his pocket and sticking it into the lock. Turning it until he heard the satisfying click, Demyx pushed open the door, and stepped inside.

“Fuck!” he cursed as soon as he crossed the threshold, dropping his bag in favor of hugging his arms around himself, trying to conserve what little body heat he managed to retain. It was so fucking cold inside the house. Shivering violently, teeth chattering, he stepped over the discarded duffel and made for the thermostat, aiming to turn on the heater. But as he read the numbers on the digital screen, his arms fell limply to his sides, and he could only gape at the display.

69 degrees.

“You're shitting me...” he muttered, narrowing his eyes at the numbers. But they didn't change. He continued to study the thermostat for a few moments before moving away, deciding that he was just a little apprehensive about the whole situation. After all, it had only been two weeks ago that Grandpa Emilian had been wandering about this house, going about his normal business when...

BANG!

Demyx visibly jumped, swiveling around so that he was facing the entryway to the dining room, where a long oak table sat, surrounded by several chairs. A blue tablecloth was draped diagonally across the surface, a dying fern set as the centerpiece.

“Hello...? Is anyone here?” he called, taking a hesitant step forward. When no one answered, he took a deep breath and continued forward, scanning the room before moving toward the adjacent kitchen.

BANG!!

It was louder this time; closer. Demyx inhaled shakily before shuffling closer into the kitchen.

BANG!!

He saw it. The cabinet next to the microwave was just opening and slamming shut on its own. A scream gathered in his throat, but he quickly stifled it, stepping into the kitchen. As the door opened once more, he lunged for it, catching it before it could shut again. From the corner of his eye, he thought he saw someone standing off to the side, his arms crossed. When he turned his head, though, the figure vanished, and with it, the abrupt chilliness that had filled the house.

“Damn... What was that all about?” he muttered under his breath, shutting the cabinet door gently.

RR-RRING!

“Fuck!” he cursed, starting once more at the sudden noise. Immediately, his gaze drifted to the phone, eyes narrowing in a threatening glare. “Frikkin' phone ringing right after...” With a sigh, he walked over to the phone and picked it up, pressing it to his ear after flicking the cord away.

“Yo.” he greeted the other person, approaching the refrigerator, phone balanced between his shoulder and head.

“Demyx? Is everything alright over there? What time did you get in? Was the trip okay? Have any of your friends called yet? Do they even know you're there? Is the forest alright?” his mom immediately questioned upon hearing his voice. Demyx shook his head, yanking open the door to the refrigerator and looking around inside.

“Mom, calm down,” he said, moving aside a jar of horseradish. “Everything's fine. I got in about five minutes ago, the trip was uneventful because Grampa's house is only ten minutes away, my friends don't know I'm here, but I'm sure you'll tell them, and of course the forest is alright.”

Adalwolfa Hearne was a beautiful woman, with long, curly blonde hair and a round face. It was from her side of the family that Demyx had inherited most of his looks, blessing him with blonde hair and blue eyes, whereas his dad's side of the family had dark hair, eyes, and skin – the traditional Romani appearance. But Adalwolfa was constantly worried about her son, and, for reasons unknown to Demyx, she would become more protective than usual whenever he visited his grandfather. When he had approached her with the idea of going to Emilian's house – alone – she nearly went into cardiac arrest. But that didn't stop him from pursuing the subject, leaving Adalwolfa practically no choice in the matter; after all, it was Demyx that Emilian had given everything to, not his daughter-in-law. So, he was allowed to go, not only because the house was, in fact, right down the road, but also because he had to promise to call at least two times a day.

But today it looked as if his mother had beaten him to the punch, Demyx thought, pulling a small container of yogurt from the fridge. He opened it and sniffed at it tentatively, but threw it away when he saw green splotches of mold in the yogurt, completely ignoring his mother's ranting for the moment. He then continued to rummage through the fridge, answering whatever question his mother fired off at him.

“Did you find anything to eat?” she asked, to which Demyx merely responded with, “I'm looking right now, but everything's all icky.”

“Icky?” Adalwolfa replied, sighing. “Who put that word in your vocabulary when you were little and forgot to take it out?”

“Mom, that doesn't even make sense.” Demyx shut the door to the fridge and opened the adjacent freezer, pulling out a frozen Ziploc bag of... something.

“Sure it does! Think about it, Demy, it's not that hard.”

“Fine, fine, it's not, I get it. I think I'm going to go grocery shopping later.” He threw the bag of something onto the counter and pulled out another Ziploc bag, this one filled with golden goo.

“How long are you planning on staying there?”

“However long it takes me to get this stuff to the storage area.” He inspected the golden goo carefully before opening it, breaking a chunk off, and sticking it into his mouth. Applesauce.

“I really would rather you had a friend there with you...” Adalwolfa's voice was filled with concern as she relayed her desire for the hundredth time.

“I know, I know. But everyone was busy. Axel's at work most of the week, or with Roxas, Xigbar has to get ready for that competition at the shooting range later this week, and Marluxia is just... Marluxia.”

“I would rather you didn't hang out with Marluxia, Demy. That boy is a bad influence on you.”

“Pfft, please, Mom. You don't see me fucking everything on two legs.” Demyx replied without hesitation, first taking the bag of frozen applesauce and dropping it into a bowl, then sticking it in the microwave that hung above the counter.

“Demyx Hearne! What have I told you before about language?!” his mother snapped, and the sound of her hand slamming down on something carried through the phone line. Demyx cringed; he'd known that his mother wouldn't tolerate cursing, but it had just slipped out. He hadn't meant to say it.

“Sorry, Mom.” he apologized, punching in two minutes on the microwave. Adalwolfa sighed heavily, and Demyx could hear her adjust the phone.

“I know, you didn't mean it. It's fine.” she paused a moment before continuing. “I should probably go. Your father's going to be here any minute and I promised I'd go out with him today. I love you, Demy. Be safe.”

“I will be. I mean, what could possibly happen?” he said, listening as the microwave beeped a couple of times before reaching up and taking out the bowl of semi-frozen applesauce, setting it on the counter.

“I just... It... Nevermind. I love you, Demy. Miss you already.” her voice was gentler than before, and Demyx couldn't help the smile that crept onto his face.

“Love you too, Mom. Tell Dad I said 'Hi!' for me, 'kay?” Demyx pulled open the nearest drawer, taking out a large spoon.

“Of course, Demy. Talk to you later. Bye!”

“Bye, Mom.” He shifted the phone back into his hand and walked over to the wall, putting the white phone back into its cradle.

“Demyx...”

Demyx turned and looked over his shoulder, eyes darting around the room. Sighing, he brought a hand up and scratched the back of his head.

“Must be hearing things...” he muttered, returning to the counter and eagerly attending to his bowl of applesauce.

-x- DAY ONE -x-

E-V-E-N-I-N-G

Ahhh, the blessed creation of TV, combined with his grandfather's desire to keep in touch with the rest of the world. Demyx was currently curled up in the corner of the old couch, a bowl of cereal in one hand, the remote in the other. Despite the strange events of the morning, he had gone on with his day, going through various items Emilian had possessed, trying to decide what he wanted to keep and what he didn't.

“... In other news, the heavily decomposed body of a young girl was discovered earlier today in the backyard of business tycoon and multi-millionaire, Mr. Shinra, 41. It was uncovered by family friend and fellow businessman, Luxord Wallis, 39, during a party held in celebration of Mr. Shinra's only child's, Rufus Shinra, 24, recent graduation from Heart of the Kingdom University, with a degree in...”

“Depressing subject matter, that's what.” Demyx scoffed, flipping to another channel, where 'Oblivion' by 30 Seconds to Mars was playing. Throwing the remote to the side, he took a rather large bite out of his cereal, chewing noisily as he watched the video end, and an interview begin.

“Sora! Sora Kayaki! A few questions, if you would!” A reporter was trailing behind a brunette with spiked hair, demanding to know something. The boy turned and faced the camera, his bright blue eyes narrowed to slits. The camera panned down to his hand, where his fingers were interlaced with those of his companion, a silver-haired teen with piercing turquoise eyes.

“No more f—ing questions!” he muttered, glaring fiercely at the woman. The camera panned upward once more, stopping at the woman's head. She seemed taken aback for a moment before pursuing the matter further, focusing instead on the silver-haired boy.

“Riku Karada, how do you feel about the disappearance of fellow bandmate, and lead singer of Oathkeeper's Oblivion, Kairi Osaka?” she questioned, holding the microphone up to Riku. He only snorted and pushed the electronic out of his face.

“I think that you need to go now,” he hissed vehemently, turning to leave. But the reporter wouldn't give up just yet. Demyx could only laugh at her stupidity, predicting that one of the pair was going to snap, and soon.

“Any comment on the relationship you two have?!” she yelled. The two stopped midstep. “Tabloids are saying that you two are an item, but what do you have to say about it?!”

“What do we... Would you leave us alone already?!” Sora screamed. “I'm f—ing concerned about Kairi's safety! Of course I am! She's like my sister! But worrying over it isn't going to help any! If anything, it will drive me insane! And so what if Riku and I are dating?! That's none of your f—ing business!!” Riku put a hand on the brunette's shoulder, but did not interrupt his rant. The cameraman returned to the reporter, who could only smile nervously in response, before panning back to the couple.

“Could you please leave now?” Riku asked of the woman, who only nodded a little, stunned at the brunette's violent reaction – although she really shouldn't have been. Sora had buried his head in his boyfriend's chest, fingers gripping the front of Riku's shirt. The silver-haired teen was holding Sora as tightly to him as he could, giving off a protective aura. Demyx smiled a little at the display; he had wondered when the two would get together. Putting his now-empty cereal bowl on the coffee table in front of him, he grabbed the remote and changed the channel again, this time landing on some sort of children's show. With a yawn, he threw his hands up over his head and stretched for a moment before looking out the glass door to his left. The sun was setting behind the mountains, casting an orange-ish-pink glow over the valley. Behind him, a grandfather clock began to chime.

DING!

Demyx snuggled down into the couch further, grabbing a throw pillow and stuffing it between his head and the arm.

DING!

He yawned again, staring at his cereal bowl for a moment before looking once more at the TV.

DING!

“Y-R-P's new album on sale soon!” the announcer promised, giving viewers a peace sign. Demyx only snorted in response.

DING!

“Don't these people ever get tired of showing the same crap over and over?” he muttered tiredly as the cartoon resumed; it was an episode he'd already seen ages ago.

DING!

“'F' is for friends who do stuff together, 'U' is for you and me! 'N' is for anywhere at anytime at all down here in the deep blue sea!!” With a small chuckle, Demyx mouthed the words to the song, vaguely remembering that him and Axel had once paraded down the halls of their high school, arms linked, singing it at the top of their lungs.

DING!

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes for a moment, re-opening them.

DING!

A figure stood before him. Light from the dying sun cast him in darkness, but Demyx was certain that this was the teen he had spotted earlier from the corner of his eye. The teen was frowning, his arms cross over his chest. There was a saddened expression on his face. Shadowed lips moved, mouthing something.

DING!

Demyx squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block the man from his memory. He's not supposed to be there. When he re-opened his eyes, the figure was gone. Sitting up and rubbing his arms, he glanced around the room once more, as if to ensure himself it was empty. Nothing was out of place. Rubbing his eyes, he stood up and stretched again before grabbing the cereal bowl and shuffling off to the kitchen.

“I'm just imagining things...”

-x- DAY ONE -x-

N-I-G-H-T

Heavy footsteps thudded against the wood floor, pacing back and forth back and forth outside his door. A voice was talking, muttering incoherent sentences, filling the hall with his raspy whispers.

...Nngh...

Shadows flitted from wall to wall in his room, on the outside of the house, in the hallway, devouring any and all light.

...Hm...

A shriek of sheer pain echoed in the house. It was whispery, low; a male's voice.

...Mmmm...

A terrible scratching sound resounded in the halls; thin cuts appeared in the walls, slowly becoming deeper and deeper, resembling words with every scratch. From each mutilated word dripped a thick red substance. The walls were bleeding.

Demyx didn't wake up once that night.

-x- DAY TWO -x-

M-O-R-N-I-N-G

“What the fuck...?” Were the first three words out of Demyx's mouth when he stepped out of his bedroom the next morning. Lifting up his foot, he inspected the substance he had just stepped in – blood. Blue eyes widened as he tore off his now-stained white sock and threw it at the wall, watching as it slid down before eying the puddles of blood. He staggered back a few steps, gaze drifting up the wall, slowly tracing the jagged cuts that had been engraved into the wall.

Find Sanctuary

The words had been carved over and over and over into the walls of the hallway, reaching from one end to the other. And from them, a dark red substance had overflowed, landing in a puddle on the ground. A rather large puddle, at that.

“Dammit!” Demyx cursed, tearing out of his room, not caring that his pajama pants were quickly becoming soaked with the strange liquid with every desperate step. His wet feet caused him to slide down the stairs, leaving large smudges of crimson in his wake. As he dove for the living room, he turned, and came face to face with the single most horrifying man he'd ever seen in his entire life.

What would have been flawless tan skin was marred with gashes of varying intensity that seemed to span his entire upper body. His silvery hair was stained a deep russet colour, causing Demyx to gasp and bring his hands up in front of him – a meager defense, at best. But what startled the blonde the most was the utterly empty look the man's amber eyes gave him. It was as if the man was without a soul.

“Wha-Who are you?!” Demyx demanded, his voice cracking at the end of the sentence. The man's thin lips twisted into a wicked sort of smile, making Demyx's stomach do flips.

“G-Get out of my house!” the blonde screamed, his voice bordering on hysteric. The man shook his head, taking a menacing step forward. Despite the fact his mind was screaming for him to move, move, get out of there, now!, Demyx's feet refused to budge. The man took another menacing step forward. The hairs on the back of Demyx's neck stood on end as he was suddenly embraced by an arctic chill. A scarred hand reached out for the teenager, but halted abruptly when the man's gaze sharply averted to something else entirely.

In the corner of the room, another figure stood, arms braced in front of him. Demyx quickly recognized it as the shadow from the night before.

“Xehanort!” a voice echoed throughout the house. “Don't touch him!” The scarred man chuckled softly, threateningly, turning fully to face the shadow figure.

“Stay out of this, Zexion,” came the harsh response. The man flickered out of sight for a moment, and Demyx breathed a sigh of relief. But it caught in his throat when he reappeared in front of the shadow figure, tanned hands grasping, squeezing the smaller's throat. The shadow clawed at the scarred hands, letting out a strangled scream that fell upon deaf ears.

And then they were gone.

Demyx squeezed his eyes shut, opening them after a moment. The two really were gone. Pursing his lips, he glanced up the stairs, cerulean eyes landing on the step he'd slipped on.

The strange substance was gone as well.

-x- DAY TWO -x-

A-F-T-E-R-N-O-O-N

“Mom, no, I'm fine. Nothing happened to me, I swear. It was just a figment of my imagination, or something. I didn't get a lot of sleep last night, okay? So, don't worry.” Demyx tried to reassure the hysterical Adalwolfa, but was failing in his attempt to do so.

“No! Demy, I want you to come home right this instant!” his mother commanded. Demyx sighed, stirring his bowl of applesauce – leftovers from yesterday.

“It's fine, Mom, seriously. Nothing else has happened, I swear. I'm going to start going through the stuff as soon as I finish this bowl of applesauce, alright? I'll try to be home later this week,” he stated, taking a bite of applesauce.

“No, it's not fine! You could have been hurt, Demy! I'm serious, I want you to come home. We'll have someone else go through Grandpa Emilian's belongings,” his mother pleaded, but Demyx wasn't budging in his decision.

“But the fact of the matter is that I wasn't hurt in the least, right? Right. So, I'm going to stay and go through Grampa's stuff, then come home Friday or Saturday; Sunday at the latest,” he promised. Adalwolfa sighed heavily.

“You're not going to be persuaded otherwise, are you?” she whispered. Demyx grinned, knowing he'd won the fight.

“Nope!”

“You're as stubborn as a freaking mule, Demyx Hearne. You promise you'll be home by Sunday at the latest?”

“I swear on my puppy's life!” he declared, mock saluting to no one in particular.

“Demy, your puppy died three years ago. It drowned. In the bathtub.”

“Details, details,” he dismissed, waving his hand. “But I promise I'll be home by Sunday at the latest. That's, what, four days? It'll all turn out fine, you'll see.”

“I certainly hope so... I love you Demy, I really do. Be careful, alright? I don't want to see my beautiful baby boy hurt.”

“I love you too, Mom. I'll see you Sunday,” he replied, aimlessly stirring his applesauce.

“Alright... I'm holding you to that. I'll see you then. Don't forget to take your medicine – I forgot to remind you yesterday.” Demyx grunted in response, taking the bowl to the sink and running some water into it.

“Fuck... It's still in the car,” he muttered to himself more than anything, but his mother caught it anyway.

“Language!!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm sorry. Now I'm gonna go so I can get my medicine, okay? I'll call you later,” he sighed, wiping my hands on the kitchen towel.

“Be safe, Demy. Love you, talk to you later.” And with that, she hung up. Demyx shook his head, crossing the room to return the phone to its cradle.

“Medicine, medicine, medicine. That's all she was worried about when I was home, too,” he whined, grabbing his car keys from the counter before heading out the front door.

His car sat in the spot he'd parked it in the previous day. Demyx walked up to it and popped the trunk, pulling out his medicine bag, as well as his CD case before slamming the door shut once more and locking it. As he shuffled the items around so that they were more comfortable to carry, movement in his grandfather's bedroom caught his attention. Cerulean eyes gazed through the window, eyes locking with the startling violet eyes of the shadow man. Even with the distance between the car and the house, Demyx could see the man's lips move, saying something indecipherable before the figure vanished once more.

“Dammit...” he cursed, rubbing his eyes. “I really do need to take my medication...”

-x- DAY TWO -x-

E-V-E-N-I-N-G

“Ugggh! Grampa, why did you keep so much stuff?!” the blonde complained, flopping down onto the sofa. After taking his medication, the strange occurrences came to an almost immediate halt, leaving Demyx to sort through Emilian's belongings in peace... Well, as peaceful as it could be with his music blaring at full volume. He reached around blindly for the remote, turning on the TV once he had located it and flipping to the news.

“Today's top story: The body of the young girl found in Mr. Shinra's backyard has been identified as the seventeen-year-old lead singer of Oathkeeper's Oblivion, Kairi Osaka. A forensic analysis has concluded that Ms. Osaka had been alive when she was buried, nearly two months ago. Sources say that the last time they had seen Ms. Osaka alive was backstage after a particularly good concert, talking to a hooded man,” the news anchor announced, shifting his papers around on the desk. A video report began playing in memory of the girl, as Demyx suspected it had been doing all day, pictures of the young singer flashing on screen. Demyx couldn't help but think she was nothing but beautiful, and found himself momentarily mourning her untimely death.

“We don't know why anyone would do this to Kairi... She was such a sweet, cheerful, optimistic young lady with an amazing life ahead of her. To have that ripped away from her at such a young age is not only a great shame, it's a huge disappointment to all her fans,” a woman said – presumably Kairi's manager. Demyx was proven correct when the video switched to the woman and her name faded onto the screen. Underneath it was her title – Manager of Oathkeeper's Oblivion. “Sora and Riku are crushed. In light of Kairi's disappearance and the recent discovery of her body, they found each other to seek solace in. They will recover in time, but I am saddened to announce that the band will be put on an indefinite hiatus from now on.” With a heavy sigh, he switched the channel back to the music channel he'd been watching the day before.

“Sora Kayaki! Do you wish to comment on the uncovering of Kairi's body in Mr. Shinra's backyard?!”

“Riku! Riku, a moment please! What are your thoughts on the current situation?!”

“Karada! Riku Karada! I'm from the Twilight Town Gazette! Could you please tell me your reaction to the news of Kairi's death?!”

Reporters were swarming outside of what Demyx assumed to be Sora and Riku's apartment. The couple was standing on the front steps, Riku's turquoise eyes narrowed into a fierce glare.

“All of you, shut up!!” Sora barked, his temper flaring. “Go crawl in a ditch and die! Leave us alone!” Riku nodded, drawing the younger boy close to him as he turned to enter the house.

“Leave us the f—ck alone,” the silver-haired teen whispered. A hush fell upon the reporters, save for the continuous clicking of camera shutters going off, everyone watching as the two went inside the apartment, slamming the door shut behind them. Snorting, Demyx swung his legs over the side of the couch, making his way towards the shelves next to the TV, intent on finding a decent movie to watch.

“Old... old... old... Geez, they're all old! Then how about... Eh, this'll do.” he muttered to himself, taking Blazing Saddles off the shelf and sticking it in the DVD player.

“I hate this movie...”

Demyx's head snapped to attention, his eyes quickly scanning the room. Pursing his lips, he shook his head and stood up, returning to the couch. Just another figment of my imagination... Medication must be wearing off...

But it wasn't, for the voice spoke again about fifteen minutes into the movie.

“This movie is idiotic and childish, to a certain extent.”

“Who's there?!” Demyx called as soon as the voice had spoken again. Silence followed. Sighing for what had to of been the hundredth time that day, he continued watching the movie.

Thirty seconds later, though, the TV became clouded with white noise and static, canceling out the movie. Demyx couldn't help but be puzzled at this because the TV was practically brand new. After trying every method he could think of to repair the device, one of which including a mango and the salsa dance, he gave up with an agitated growl, pulling the DVD from the DVD player.

“I told you I hated that movie.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Demyx growled, looking around the room again, unable to spot anything out of the ordinary. When he received no response, he put the movie back on the shelf and shut off the TV.

“I'm going to bed, now,” he announced to no one in particular. “So don't worry about the stupid movie. And before that, I'm going to take my medication, and then you'll disappear because you're just a figment of my imagination.”

“Medication? You never told me you were on medication.”

“Oh look, you're back.” Demyx laughed, shaking his head. “Why am I having a conversation with a voice in my mind?”

“Why are you on medication?”

“I am under no obligation to answer that. Good night!” Demyx jumped up from the couch and skipped to the kitchen, where he took his medicine, before heading upstairs.

What he wasn't aware of were the violet eyes that followed his every movement.

-x- DAY TWO -x-

N-I-G-H-T

Skritch skritch skritch

“Poor kid...”

Scratch scratch scratch

“Zexion!”

Ker-thunk ker-thunk ker-thunk

“Dammit! Don't touch the boy!”

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

“Why protect him, Zexion?”

Shuffle shuffle shuffle

“Because... Because he can't protect himself from you!”

Cough cough gasp

“It's useless, Zexion.”

Thud

Zexion's lifeless body slumped to the floor, empty eyes staring up at Xehanort.

“I will make you relive this nightmare as long as it takes, Zexion.”

“... Ungh...”

Demyx groaned and shifted around on his bed, but did not wake, remaining unaware of the activity going on right outside his door.

-x- DAY THREE -x-

M-O-R-N-I-N-G

“... You're lucky he doesn't come into this room...”

Demyx stirred and slowly opened his eyes, glancing around the room. Nothing. Sitting up, he scratched the back of his head before yawning, which, of course, led to a big stretch. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he stood, stretching again, ignoring the popping noise from his spine, then shuffled to the door. Grabbing the doorknob, he began to turn it before having second thoughts. What if the hallway was the same as the previous day? What if the scarred man was waiting for him? What if the shadow man was? Taking a deep breath, he pulled the door open a crack, hesitating a moment before throwing it open.

The hallway was completely empty.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he stepped out in the hallway and thudded down the stairs to begin his day.

Which he quickly found he couldn't do because his medication was missing.

“Where the hell is it?!” he screamed after twenty straight minutes of fruitless searching. Taking one last glance around the kitchen, Demyx headed to the living room, where his efforts were also in vain.

“Tell me, for what do you need medication?”

“For voices like you!” he yelled, tearing a cushion off the couch. A soft laugh echoed in the empty room as Demyx fell to his knees and peered under the couch. After a moment, he sat up and glanced around the room again.

“Instead of laughing at me, how about you tell me where my medication is?” he demanded. Another laugh could be heard, quieter this time, before somebody crept up behind Demyx and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Try the bathroom counter.” the person suggested. Demyx shrugged, standing, looking over his shoulder to thank him...

Only to be greeted by an unfamiliar face.

“Wh-wh-who are you?! Get out of my house!!” he screamed, falling backward, landing on the ground with an audible THUD, before turning and crawling backwards.

“... Are you done acting like a complete imbecile?” the stranger questioned after Demyx had staggered into a standing position. The blonde teenager responded by throwing the TV remote at the stranger, only to watch as the device flew through him and smashed against the far wall. Strangely, Demyx seemed calmed by this.

“Good. You're only another hallucination...” he sighed, walking through the figure and flopping down on the couch, stretching out, closing his eyes. The stranger only raised an eyebrow before moving and sitting on the arm of the couch.

“Another hallucination? You mean that they are a normal occurrence for you?” he asked, peering down at the teen's face. Demyx mumbled something incoherently before sighing. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Demyx asked, slinging an arm over his eyes, blocking out the annoyingly bright sunlight streaming from the nearby glass doors.

“What was that you said?” the stranger clarified, glancing out said glass doors, missing the shrug that Demyx gave in response.

“I said that when I take my medication, you'll vanish. You're really just like all the other hallucinations,” the blonde muttered. “But before that happens, what's your name?”

“My name? If I am merely an illusion, as you suggest, then it would not matter if I told you my name, for you would forget me minutes after taking your medication,” the stranger retaliated, grey eyes returning to Demyx, who only smiled.

“But that takes the fun out of it, doesn't it?” he asked, uncovering his eyes and actually looking at the stranger. Cerulean orbs traced the thin face of the man, noticing how young he actually looked – sixteen? Seventeen? – taking in the unusual slate colour of the man's hair and the ever-so-popular “emo” style haircut, before locking his gaze with strangely familiar violet eyes. Silence reigned supreme for several moments before the stranger spoke up.

“Zexion.”

“What?” Demyx jumped at the sudden vocalization.

“My name,” the stranger looked to the side, looking almost... saddened. Demyx blinked a few times in confusion before smiling.

“So you're the one that helped me yesterday,” he said, sitting up and turning to face Zexion.

“Y-Yes, I am...” the slate-haired teen muttered, hesitantly returning his gaze to Demyx.

“Thank you! I know that my hallucinations can get bad, but that man yesterday was the worst one yet. Makes ya wonder what's going on in the back of my mind...” Zexion looked a little surprised to hear this, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

“If it bothers you so much, go take your medication,” he suggested, gesturing towards the bathroom door. Demyx shook his head, looking around.

“Nah, I think I want to keep you around for awhile. It was too quiet yesterday.” Sliding off the couch, he stretched for the last time before slinking off to the kitchen.

“Maybe quiet is best...” Zexion whispered. Demyx shook his head, opening his CD case and pulling out a CD.

“So, you like Sparky's Flaw?”

-x- DAY THREE -x-

A-F-T-E-R-N-O-O-N

“And your grandfather, he was purebred Romani?” Zexion questioned, now perched on the very table Demyx had noticed when he had entered the house three mere days ago, watching as the blonde nodded enthusiastically before sticking a spoonful of cereal in his mouth, waiting for him to swallow.

“Yeah. He moved here from France when he was little,” Demyx responded after a moment. “His mother, Anicia, came to America when her husband was arrested on false charges and, eventually, executed. Obviously, since he was born in France and his mother always spoke French around him, he was fluent in French, as well as English, since he grew up here,” Demyx explained, smiling cheerfully. Zexion seemed intrigued by his family history, and was more than willing to listen to the blonde's excited ramblings about his family.

“Are you fluent in French as well?” Zexion asked, curiously looking at Demyx, who only laughed and shook his head.

“I know enough to tide me over for the time being. As in, if I went to France, I'd probably get punched in the face because my pronunciation is horrible.” Zexion chuckled softly, then smirked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“C'est trop mal,” he said, his accent perfect. Demyx sneered, rolling his eyes getting up to go to the kitchen and dump his bowl in the sink.

“Yeah well... Ta mère est une putain!” the blonde retaliated, sticking his tongue out before walking into the living room, Zexion floating closely behind him. Demyx had never really asked why his companion floated, though. It was only an illusion, or so he continued to tell himself.

“My mother was not a whore, Demyx.”

“Yeah well... How would you know? You came from my mind, after all,” Demyx retorted, turning on the TV. Zexion rolled his eyes and sat down on the back of the couch. And they sat there, a comfortable silence surrounding them as they watched Riku and Sora be pummeled by reporters continuously.

“I do not understand. Why do they not leave the couple alone?” Zexion asked after several moments of silence. Demyx just shrugged.

“Because a gay couple of such high standing is quite the scandal, as you can imagine. I don't know why they continue to pester them, though. It may be wrong to them, but to Sora and Riku, they couldn't imagine it any other way.”

“This scenario seems to bother you. Care to tell why?”

“You sound like my psychiatrist, Zexy!” Demyx whined, silencing when Riku turned and faced the woman reporter that had chased them around a couple days ago and promptly backhanded her.

“... That's assault!!” someone screamed from amidst the chaos that was unfolding on the TV. Riku didn't seem to be too worried about the imminent lawsuit, having grabbed Sora's arm and continued down the street.

“You're going to go to jail, Riku Karada!” someone else declared, to which Riku replied with the finger. Demyx sighed, picking up the remote changing the channel. The opening to Beautiful Soul filled the room.

“This guy, Jesse McCartney?” Demyx began, pointing to the singer. “When he talks, his voice reminds me of Roxas'.”

“Who's Roxas?” Zexion questioned.

“My best friend's, Axel's, boyfriend. They act like they hate each other sometimes, but it's really just an act. You can tell how strongly they feel for each other just by looking at them,” Demyx explained, earning a slight nod from Zexion.

“That explains your reaction to the whole Riku and Sora situation,” the slate-haired teen muttered under his breath. The blonde agreed with a small grunt.

“... Well... that, and other things...” he trailed off, suddenly finding the ceiling much more interesting.

“That...” Zexion thought about the forgotten statement, attempting to piece it together in his head. It wasn't that hard. “That you... find no attraction to the female species?” Demyx shook his head violently, only to stop after a moment, nodding.

“Well... yes, and no...” the blonde said softly, gaze dropping to his hands in his lap.

“Then... uhm...” Zexion paused, searching for the right words. “No discrimination...?”

“Erm, yeah...” Zexion didn't notice the pale blush that had made it's way onto the blonde's face. “Well! Time to go through Grampa's stuff! Up, up, and away!” Demyx suddenly declared, jumping off the couch and dashing towards the stairs, leaving behind Zexion, whose face was twisted into a bitter smile.

-x- DAY THREE -x-

E-V-E-N-I-N-G

Eight hours ago, Demyx had woken up and met an illusion named Zexion.

Five hours ago, Demyx had confessed to Zexion that he was bisexual – the only person to know besides Axel.

Two hours ago, Demyx had taken his medication, thus banishing Zexion from all thought.

One hour ago, Demyx had collapsed on the couch, asleep almost instantly, so very tired from sorting through his grandfather's various possessions.

“Beautiful... Simply beautiful... Such a shame,” a hoarse voice whispered. An icy chill spread across the room, leaving frost on the windows and glass door as well as a thin layer of ice over the various plants that littered the room. Demyx shivered in his sleep, unconsciously hugging his arms to himself, drawing his knees up to his chest.

“Xehanort,” another voice rang out. The silver-haired man smirked, flexing his hand, before turning to face Zexion.

“You can't protect him here, Zexion,” he said slowly, taking a step towards the teen. Zexion didn't move, crossing his arms in what seemed like defiance.

“I can try!” Zexion spat in response, narrowing his violet eyes into a glare, garnering a soft chuckle from the other man.

“You will not succeed,” Xehanort decided resolutely, arms outstretched. Torn hands wrapped around Zexion's pale neck, squeezing softly at first. The teen's hands clawed and clawed at Xemnas' arms as the man applied more and more pressure, but his efforts were in vain. Coughing, he gasped for air, trying to breathe.

“Unngh... Zexion...?” Demyx called in his sleep, shifting until he was laying on his side before settling again.

And when he later sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes, no one was there.

-x- DAY THREE -x-

N-I-G-H-T

“Turn off the radio.”

“No. I like this song.”

“I said turn off the radio.”

“I said no.”

“What did I say?!”

“Nothing worthwhile.”

Silence hung heavily in the air for a long moment.

“Some boy talked to me today.”

“That's nice.”

“He seems nice.”

“Is he gay?”

“Excuse me?”

“I asked if he was like you.”

“That has nothing to do with it!”

“He's the one you wer–”

“I said that has no– look out!”

The ear-shattering squeal of tires filled the air, then complete and utter quiet.

Demyx shot up in bed, sweat pouring down his face, cerulean eyes wide, wildly searching the room. His breath came in short gasps, his heart pounding against his chest.

“What... the fuck was that...?” he questioned the empty room around him.