Work Text:
Letters of Your Name
He’s not quite sure why he’s there, sitting in the bright sunlight, the cheerful sparkle of a fountain coming from behind him. There are children chattering away everywhere he looks and it makes him feel old, even though he considers himself a young man. At least, he thinks he’s a young man. Younger middle aged at most, he’s sure. He thinks. He looks down at himself, sees he’s all in black leather and doesn’t know how that happened either. The pale skin of his wrists peeks out at him from the gap between his sleeves and his gloves and a flash of black on the right catches his eye. He almost absentmindedly tugs down the sleeve of his coat and stares dazedly at the letters inked there. He wonders what they mean. His eyes trace over the “L” again, as though the action of looking would somehow magically reveal the mystery of the elegant letters.
“Ava!” A sudden shout startles him, his arm drops automatically, and he stares at the boy who shouted from a few feet away. The boy looks familiar and he doesn’t know why. Cute, he can’t help but think. He has an urge to tousle the boy’s black fluffy hair.
“Ava, look!” The boy exclaims, holding up his arm toward a girl who comes rushing toward him. “I got my soulmate mark!” He beams at her.
Her voice is intense with barely concealed excitement as she clutches the boy’s arm, “They must be here.” They both look wildly about the plaza. The place is so crowded, he wonders how they’re going to find whoever or whatever it is they’re looking for.
The girl, Ava, climbs up the rim of the fountain, not far from where he’s sitting, cups her hands and shouts: “MYDE!” He flinches at the shout, although he’s unsure whether it’s the loudness or the name itself that causes it. The boy notices him and comes to him, eager.
“Are you Myde?”
He thinks about this.
“No.” He doesn’t know.
“Oh.” The boy’s face falls.
The two spend the next few hours wandering the plaza, asking every one they can whether they’re Myde.
Slowly, he remembers who he is. That he traveled here back through time because things got messed up (Luxu died. Again.), that he can’t really control how far back he goes, that the farther back he goes the more he forgets and the longer it takes to remember.
He regrets that he told Luxu “no,” but it’s too late now. His pride won’t let him confess to the lie. Out of habit he slides his left index finger over his right wrist, where he knows Luxu’s name sits, proof that they are meant to be together, and plans never to tell. Besides, he’s several centuries too old for him.
******************************************
Xigbar is relaxing in the Grey Room, head tilted back, when the blond bounces into the room.
“Hi!” he emotes, cheerily. “I’m Demyx.”
It takes all of Xigbar’s willpower not to fall over in shock at seeing the Master. He clears his throat and gives a dry “Xigbar.”
Later, when Xigbar has seduced the blond and finally sees the name on his arm, he can’t help but let out several curses and storm out of the room. He knew the whole time. Xigbar’s refusal to see Demyx only lasts an hour.