Archive of Our Own

In any common and sensible circumstance, Zexion would maintain his distance from any creature capable of cold-blooded murder. He was well above average in intelligence, did not suffer from any mental illnesses that might instill suicidal ideation, and had ample evidence that vampires existed. He had suffered quite a traumatic night in which he'd witnessed death after death, and had to fake his own by taking refuge in a mountain of rotting corpses. He had seen the detachment on Demyx's face, the indifference to the horrors around them, and come to terms with the fact that his attractive neighbor was every bit a monster as the stories said.

Nonetheless, Zexion felt a guilty sort of satisfaction as he sat close and applied a thick outline of black eyeliner across Demyx's eyelid. The atmosphere between them approached 'comfortable' following their reconciliation, and Zexion couldn't possibly have abandoned the opportunity before him. Befriending a creature of the night and going to the trouble of helping Demyx look like one – his teenage self would have been positively green with envy.

Demyx, of course, couldn't have been happier. The two of them were 'going out' tonight, in the manner defined by two people leaving their residences while happening to be in each other's company. It had been his suggestion, with Zexion's amendment (or condition) being the application of some more gothic flair to Demyx's usual aesthetic. He didn't mind; the make-up made him feel like he was part of a glam rock band, and the person applying it made him feel a fuzzy sort of skip in his still, lifeless heart. He had been exceptionally concerned after 'the Vampsgiving fiasco', thinking he might have driven away the only friend he had by exposing Zexion to images that would haunt him forevermore. Luckily, that did not become the case, and they saw each other with increasing frequency – once again, in the manner of laying eyes upon each other and occasionally sharing activities, without romantic intention or tones.

Even so, Demyx tried to be on his best behavior more often than not, save for the occasions he forgot or didn't care. He kept as still as possible as Zexion matched the dramatic wing on his left eye, tapping his foot as an outlet for his restlessness.

There. They certainly stood out now, bolder and darker, more compelling to look at. Zexion capped the eyeliner and removed a dark, neutral-toned lip liner. With his eyes done up as they were, he thought Demyx's lips should stand out more; they were among his best features, and ought not to be overlooked.

Lining them, Zexion picked up a cotton swab to blend the lip liner into a smooth gradient, oblivious to how it felt to Demyx. Apart from tickling a little, it felt super intimate, which put Demyx in the awkward position of having to resist laughter and licking his lips.

“Keep still.”

Paradoxically, Demyx tried to apologize while also obeying the instruction. Zexion gave him a serious look, to which he chuckled sheepishly.

This was serious, and for that reason, Demyx managed to keep himself still. The unprompted idea that Zexion may want to kiss him if he wound up looking good was incentive enough to sober.

Once his work was completed, Zexion drew back. “Let me know if you want to do any more.”

“How do I look?” Demyx asked eagerly. “Cool? Vampire-y?”

Never one to respond to any inquiry less-than-factually, Zexion considered his response. “I suppose... you look closer to a popular imagining of a vampire. I didn't pale your face, though. That seemed excessive.”

“Oh. Would I look better pale?”

“I don't know. Do you think you would?”

Demyx shrugged. “I dunno... I want to know if I'd look good to you.”

As time wore on, Demyx became more open in his fawning. Zexion was not oblivious to it, but found it safest not to openly respond one way or another. He hadn't quite sorted out what his intentions were with Demyx, but didn't want to close off any possibility.

He examined Demyx's face for a long moment. “You look fine to me. Making you any paler would be too stark, I believe.”

“Then, I guess we're done? I'll go see!” With a bright grin, Demyx darted off the couch and towards the bathroom.

The fact that vampires possessed reflections continued to offend Zexion, but he nonetheless gave the go-ahead and followed to watch Demyx admire himself. He was obvious in his satisfaction, smile broadening further as he concluded that he looked much more like a sexy television vampire.

“Cool!”

“You like it, then?” Zexion was a tiny bit pleased.

“Yeah! It's kind of like being a rock star, you know?”

Zexion was aware of Demyx's former aspirations. It was fortunate, because he didn't think anyone else he was acquainted with would be willing to go out with him this way – that was to say, venture out in goth regalia. “Good. Unfortunately, though, I don't have any clothes that would fit you.”

“I don't have darker clothes,” Demyx informed him. His closet was full of tatty jeans and colorful t-shirts, with two different bubble-blue hooded sweatshirts for colder days. It would rather clash with his current dramatic look.

“... I'll take a look at what I have, anyway.”

“Okay!” Demyx gravitated away from the mirror and towards Zexion, following him into the hall. “Do you think I'd look cool in one of those long leather coats like they have on TV? Y’know, like Spike.”

They’d made it through season 4 of Buffy before Zexion had decided to take pity and shut it off.

“I think you might,” Zexion eyed him, “but I definitely don't have one in your size.”

“That's okay!” Unthinkingly, Demyx invited himself into the bedroom and dropped onto the mattress. Zexion didn't especially mind, though he noted he needed to straighten the rumpled covers.

Some of these shirts were meant to be oversized on Zexion's small frame, and though they weren't particularly 'alternative', they were at least black. He took them down from his closet, draping the two shirts he found over one arm.

“Try these.”

Promptly, Demyx stopped admiring the back of Zexion to remove his shirt, and Zexion's eyes indulgently traversed the lines of his body. He was still interested in them, even if he had no intention to do anything about that interest.

He put on the first shirt, which fit in only the strictest sense. Zexion nearly cracked a smile; the hem ended about an inch above his jeans.

Looking down at himself, Demyx declared, “This feels dumb,” before starting to take it off again.

“It isn't all bad.”

“It looked dumb, didn't it?” He pulled the other shirt over his head.

“Just as I said, it wasn't all bad.”

“Are you sure?” Demyx questioned, looking down again. The second shirt also fell short, but... less so. “It feels like they look bad.”

“Why do you say that?”

“'Cause they're all... riding up.”

“That can't really be helped, can it?” Zexion pointed out, only reassuring in the vaguest way. “Anyway, I understand it's fashionable to some people to show midriff.”

And Demyx had a surprisingly toned stomach.

“Huh, really?” Demyx looked down at himself again.

“It doesn't offend me, in any case.”

Apparently, that settled the matter. “Okay! Then I'm ready.”

Zexion raised his eyebrows at the sudden turnaround of his attitude. “Alright, then. We can be on our way.” His eyeliner and clothing had already been selected and put on before Demyx came over, and all that remained was to grab something to keep him warm. Demyx had the good fortune to not be so affected by the weather, up until it fell below freezing.

“D'you think it'd be okay if I got a cookie?” Demyx pondered, trailing after Zexion to the door. Their pre-determined destination was a late-night cafe only a few blocks away.

“As long as it won't upset your system too badly while we're still out.”

“I could save it for when we get back?” Demyx lit up. “Oh, I could have coffee!”

Privately, Zexion was amused by his enthusiasm. “If you like.”

“I miss coffee. I used to drink it with like, a lot of sugar.” Demyx pushed his feet into his careworn shoes, and Zexion zipped up his hoodie.

“I'm sure they've introduced at least a dozen flavors of latte since you were last able to indulge.”

“Whoa...”

“But for your sake, please only have one,” Zexion cautioned, and knelt to buckle high boots onto his legs.

“Aw...” Demyx's disappointment only lasted a fraction of a second. “Wonder what kind I should have...”

“It's up to you. I'm not such a fan of coffee, so I can't advise.”

“What d'you like?” Demyx asked, watching him finish dealing with the various fastenings of his footwear. “Do you like tea? You look like you like tea.”

“Astute observation. Yes, I prefer tea.”

“Knew it,” he nodded knowingly. “Smart people like tea.”

A smirk passed briefly over Zexion’s features. “I considered answering 'tequila' to see what reaction I'd get.”

Demyx laughed. “Oh my god, I can't picture you drunk! I bet it'd be funny.”

“It isn't a sensation I'm familiar with.” Zexion straightened up and grabbed his school bag. “That raises an interesting question – can you become intoxicated? Not by alcohol, as humans do, I'm sure, but something else...”

“Huh. I dunno? I never tried.”

Zexion was getting that look on his face that meant he'd latched to an idea. “There must be something. Every society throughout time has experimented with mild poisoning to achieve an inebriated state... Even among animals, it's quite common.”

“Wh – poisoning?” Demyx's eyes were wide. Zexion blinked at him.

“Yes.”

“Alcohol's poison?!”

“You... didn't know that?” Woefully, he often forgot how poorly educated Demyx was on even the most common subjects.

“No...” Demyx's eyes looked all the more round due to the dark lining. “Are you gonna try to poison me now?”

“Not if you're against it,” he replied carelessly.

Demyx stammered. “... I s'pose... it wouldn't kill me, right?”

“What do you think I'm going to feed you?” Zexion gave him a strange look. “Holy water?”

“You'd never do that, right?”

Zexion's voice evened out. “Not if you don't give me a reason to.”

Demyx was far from comforted. The notion that Zexion would most likely never trust him completely was the most ill-fitting of all, since he had no intention of ever threatening his friend or giving him a reason to act in self-defense. “... R-right...”

No matter how things between them seemed to mend, how close they grew together, Zexion wouldn’t drop his guard. He would always be at the ready to swing the proverbial ax. Or… stake, in this case.

“But then, you weren't certain that holy water really does have an effect on your kind, so it may be a non-issue.”

“Uh-huh...” He was no less nervous. He wondered if Zexion would try it, just to sate his curiosity.

As though they hadn't just discussed potential murder weapons, Zexion's hand went to the doorknob and he prompted, “Are you ready to leave?”

“Yeah...” Demyx snapped out of it a little. “Yeah, let's go!”

They left the apartment, their departure timed to be an hour past sunset. Demyx's legs were longer than Zexion's, already, but his eagerness had returned and put a skip in his wide steps. He struggled not to overtake him by more than a couple of feet at a time.

“You brought a lot of books,” he observed, a little belatedly.

“Yes, mostly mythology, anthropology...” Zexion's cheeks colored faintly. “A bit of fiction...”

“You're doing research?” Demyx perked up. “Is it about me?”

“I'll need to ask you some questions, so, yes, you could call it that.”

Demyx considered all vampire research to be 'about him'. “I'm great at questions.”

Zexion did not comment. “I hope you don't mind spending a couple of hours on this.”

All of his former distress was out the window. “Hours, yeah! I like spending time with you.”

“Excellent. We should make good progress, then.”

“Progress, yeah,” Demyx agreed dreamily, and was thinking about something else entirely. Zexion picked up on his tone, but did not try to work out what it was about. “... So! I'll buy you a tea or something. If you want.”

“That isn't necessary,” Zexion shook his head, making his way out of their building's side entrance. “I have money of my own.”

“But, dates buy their dates stuff.”

Zexion paused. He wasn't sure whether he should rebuke Demyx or deny this as a 'date', or admit that the implication had been present when Demyx first suggested they 'do a thing together'. “I suppose they do...”

“So... Can I?”

He made a snap decision – most unlike him. “If it means that much to you. I do wonder where your money comes from, though.”

“I get an allowance,” Demyx told him. “It comes from... uh...”

Zexion waited expectantly.

“Who does it come from...” Demyx mumbled quizzically.

The eye that was not covered by a sheet of hair went quite wide as a whole new host of questions sprang to Zexion's mind. “I can't believe I never thought of this. I don't know if you were reported missing or dead. Do your parents think you're...?”

“Oh...” Demyx was surprised by the sudden shift, enough so that his immediate response was not one of sadness. “Yeah. I think I'm still presumed dead, 'cause they didn't find my body.”

“That makes sense-... Oh,” Zexion realized the sensitivity of the topic late. “I'm sorry.”

Demyx's eyes were downcast. “No, it's okay.”

“No,” Zexion insisted. “That was thoughtless.”

“It happens... To, um, other vampires, probably.”

“Do you ever worry you may run into them?” he asked, more tentatively. Demyx was quiet for a second.

“Sometimes I hope I will. Once I tried to go visit. But, if I did that, they'd probably get killed.”

Whenever Zexion thought of being a vampire (as he sometimes did, though not nearly so often now that he knew they existed) he only imagined the lonely life of someone centuries old, all family gone. Demyx was young, as they all had to have been once... They all had to cope with being neither alive nor dead, wondering what their loved ones thought. If they mourned, still.

Had they still been around, what would Zexion's parents have thought, if he'd been turned that night?

One gentle hand came to rest against Demyx's arm, which made him start to smile again. “It's okay,” Demyx said. “I'm in a totally different part of town so they wouldn't find me or try to bring me back with them or something. And it's not all bad!”

Like now. Now, Zexion was touching him, and that was cool.

“You aren’t alone, you know,” Zexion blurted out.

Demyx lit up. “... Thanks.”

“I don't know if that helps to hear.” He was just barely preventing himself from slipping into a speech about the heavy burden Demyx must have been bearing, unaware that his presence increased Demyx's number of friends by one hundred percent.

“It does!” One whole friend, or almost-love-interest? That was better than anything Demyx had ever had, in life. “But, um, I can try to figure out who gives me money. It's probably my sire.”

Surprised that he managed to be comforting in however small a way, Zexion let himself get distracted by his questions again. “So there's a system in which your society supports each other financially. That's so interesting...”

“Good thing, too.” Demyx didn't love the idea of being homeless. He'd probably have burned to a crisp by day two.

“Without a reliable way to hold a job, I suppose it is... Even night shifts might bring you uncomfortable close to sunrise or sunset.”

When Demyx shuddered, it was actually more at the thought of work than the sun. “Too bad I can't just do music...”

“In theory, though, without the need for the basics of human survival, and an unnatural lifespan, one could amass incredible wealth...”

“The elders are really rich,” Demyx chimed in. “Or, most of them are.”

“Leaving them with enough disposable income to allot to the younger of their kind,” Zexion summarized, sounding pleased. “It's so organized! And almost nurturing, in its way...”

“Wish I was allowed more,” Demyx frowned. “It isn't very much.”

“Is it given to you in cash? Oh -” Zexion shook his head. “Stupid of me, you couldn't have a bank account. Then they must only give you as much as you need to prevent conspicuous spending.”

Demyx nodded in confirmation. “Rent, bills... Some other spending stuff but, not a whole lot. I think 'better' vampires get more, though, 'cause their sires like them.”

“That sounds astoundingly like human society,” Zexion frowned. He had come to realize that he wanted vampires to be either enlightened beyond humankind or far more depraved. Too often for his liking, they were neither.

“We were humans, so that makes sense, right?”

“I suppose... but the differences with which your society functions are so worthy of study.”

“I guess so,” Demyx agreed, trying to think of other differences that Zexion might like to hear about that he hadn't already. “You know what else is kind of neat, I guess, is family stuff... Like, my sire's made other ones but they're not any more or less my 'vamp family' than all the other ones. But I guess that's also creepier? 'Cause there's a lot of, um. A lot of vampires do stuff.”

Absentmindedly, Demyx's strides had become longer which left Zexion struggling to keep up. He didn't like the slightly-unsafe feeling of following too far behind. “'Do stuff'?” he echoed.

“You know... Stuff. Sex stuff. Vampires screw each other a lot.”

“Oh-... Oh.” Understanding brought a faint flush along with it, warmth spreading up his neck. Under his breath, Zexion commented, “So, that at least isn't myth.”

Demyx was still walking a bit too fast, lost in his thoughts as something occurred to him for the first time. “I guess that's kind of incest-y...”

Zexion's brow furrowed. “Yes, it sort of is, if you live like a family. You can't actually... reproduce, of course.” Somewhat hopefully, he tacked on, “Right?”

“I dunno. I would guess not.”

“No, no... that... is absolutely scientifically impossible.” Zexion said the last three words as though each was its own sentence, reassuring himself in the process.

“We can have sex, though,” Demyx hastened to inform him. “My penis still works.”

Zexion faltered, staring ahead at him. “... Er. I'll note that.”

Satisfied that no aspersions of erectile dysfunction were cast upon him, Demyx proceeded to envision a baby with a blend of Zexion's features and his own. Would a baby vampire need younger blood, he wondered? It wasn't as though an infant immortal would age, so it shouldn't need any particular nutrients...

Best not to bring it up. Zexion would either find is unsettling, or... disturbingly fascinating.

“In... light of that, have you ever...?” Zexion delicately inquired, and clarified, “N-not before, I don't need to know that.”

“Yeah, loads of times. Not lately!” He should not have sounded so flippant, Demyx despaired.

“Oh. With other vampires...?”

“Vampires. Vampire,” Demyx corrected, still unabashed about discussing his sex life. “You remember Xigbar?”

Zexion went pale. “I do.”

“Yeah, he took over for my sire and he was pretty cool and knew a bunch of things... So I lived with him for a while and we had sex a lot. Then I moved out here!” Demyx spread his arms, shrugging. “And now I don't see him much.”

“In that capacity, was he more like a lover or a... father?” Zexion cringed, and did a poor job of concealing it.

“It sounds creepy like that,” Demyx laughed weakly.

“I'm sorry if I'm being insensitive to your culture.”

“Culture?” Demyx blinked, having never considered that being a part of a self-contained undead society included him in a culture. “Nah. I don't mind.”

“I'm only trying to understand. A sire is your family, and Xigbar sort of took his place.”

“Yeah! It's a dad-mentor kind of thing. And sometimes boyfriend.” It really did sound creepier, the more Demyx thought about it. It behooved him not to think at all.

“I see...” Zexion said slowly.

“I mean. Not my sire. My sire is old and gross.”

“... We'll have to dedicate some more interview time for that subject.”

“'Kay,” Demyx agreed, once again starting to pick up the pace. The cafe wasn't far, now, and he really wasn't thinking – letting his mind go blank diverted it to the nearest topic of appeal, which happened to be... “It's been ages since I had sex.”

Zexion swallowed anxiously, thinking more of how far he was lagging behind than of Demyx's new train of thought. As he quickened his steps, though, something caught his attention.

They'd just passed an alley, and something had captivated him – it was the morbid fascination of seeing someone he knew, or thought, to be dead...

He slowed, and stepped closer before his well-developed brain could rein in the impulse.

“Not that I'm gonna,” Demyx clarified, not knowing that Zexion had stopped listening, not knowing that something – or someone – had just bolted from the shadows, dragging Zexion effortlessly into the alley with one hand over his mouth. “Not with someone else! And I wouldn't even know who, so... and, I'm not sure if sex with humans is different now. Oh, um – sorry if this is... awkward, I guess? We can change the subject.”

Zexion struggled, his voice muffled but not entirely silenced. His captor growled softly, forcibly turning him around.

“Why are you all like this? With the hair, too?” Scowling, a hand shoved the curtain of Zexion's bangs aside and his attacker stared into his eyes.

“... Zexion?” Demyx slowed to a stop when he realized his companion wasn't in sight. “Huh?”

The world had taken on a blurred quality, for Zexion, with everything but the boy before him indistinct. Eyes glazed, he stared at blonde hair that shone like the sun, smooth skin that could have been fine porcelain; he was clearer and all the more beautiful for the haze around him.

“Better,” Roxas declared, fangs elongating.

“Zexion?!” Demyx backtracked with a wounded noise, thinking he may have been ditched despite it seeming like an uncharacteristic move. His discovery was far worse, however, when he found Zexion pinned to an alleyway wall. “Hey!”

“Shit...” Roxas rolled his eyes and yanked Zexion farther into the shadows, his fangs still bared. Demyx's shock only lasted a second before his own were gnashing, livid.

“Back off him,” he snarled, and the change would have been jarring to anyone who had seen him babbling on a minute ago.

Roxas's lip curled back, snarling. “He's not yours.”

“He is.” Demyx advanced. “He's my friend. Drink someone else.”

“Ask him who he'd rather go home with,” Roxas sniped, nodding towards Zexion. He'd slumped against the wall, as aware as someone either very drunk or completely addled.

“That's not fair, you thrall'd him!” Demyx protested.

From across the street, a wiry and oft-cursing redhead picked up the indistinct arguing, and hastily jaywalked across. Roxas had slipped his watch. Again.

“He doesn't have a problem with it. Why don't you leave us alone?”

“I told you! He's my friend and he doesn't want to get killed, so back off!”

“Hey, hey, let's not fight,” Axel interrupted, sweeping into the alley as casually as you please. Roxas made a sound of deep irritation.

Demyx jumped, startled. “... Axel?!”

“Hey, Dem.” Axel didn't look nearly so surprised to see him. He approached Roxas and slung an arm around his neck. “I told you. You don't need to eat yet.”

“I'm hungry, Axel, I need to eat,” Roxas spat. “And this one's barely a snack.”

“Hey!” Demyx vocalized indignation on Zexion's behalf.

“You're not. You eat every time you 'think' you're hungry, you'll gorge yourself and get bloodsick. You ever seen a bloated corpse?”

“Then why don't you let me chew on you to tide me over?”

Rather than baited, Axel purred. “Maybe later.” He yanked Zexion off the wall, who came along limply. “For now, let's drop the thrall and -...”

He stopped. His eyes narrowed. Demyx panicked.

“Oh, that's, um... I was just -”

“Don't I know him?” Axel observed, looking to Demyx. Roxas stepped back, arms petulantly crossed.

Demyx laughed nervously. “Um, I dunno, why would you?”

“Roxas,” Axel prompted, and whirled Zexion around to face him. He gave Axel a defiant look.

“You're going to make me let him go free if I do.”

“I'll let you bite me wherever you want.”

“Ugh.” Apparently not in the mood to argue, or perhaps thinking the deal to be a good one, he released Zexion with a blazing look.

“Thank you.”

Zexion blinked rapidly, bleary but becoming aware of being held, turned by the shoulders, and others around him. Vision cleared, and the face came into view – green eyes, a predatory smirk. The look he saw in his nightmares.

Axel grinned. “Remember me?”

Instantly, terror flooded him and Zexion cowered back, starting to breathe in short spurts.

“Let him go!” Demyx insisted. To his own surprise, Axel acquiesced, letting Zexion stagger quickly away.

“I knew it,” Axel said smugly. “This is the guy you brought as your sacrifice. Alive and kicking.”

“No, he's not?” Demyx tried weakly, reaching out to bring Zexion a little farther away from the other two.

“Do not think about running,” Roxas commanded, hungry eyes following.

“He won't! He's fine!” Demyx fretfully drew him nearer. Zexion was too locked up from horror to disallow it.

“He's distinctly neither dead or undead,” Axel elaborated. “Uncanny.”

“What's going on?” Roxas demanded, looking now to Axel.

“That big party I turned you at, all the sacrifices – seems my good friend Demyx didn't actually kill his.” Axel laughed. “I'm kind of impressed.”

Roxas wasn’t laughing.

Frantically, Demyx looked over Zexion's neck, checking whether or not he'd been bitten. “Are you okay...?”

“How could I be okay?” Zexion asked faintly. Demyx stiffened in alarm.

“What'd he do?”

“I-... He grabbed me and then I was surrounded. I don't remember.”

Roxas was still staring at Axel. “He got away?”

“No idea how they pulled that off...” Axel had not noticed the way Roxas's eyes were glinting, the way his shoulders had squared, the way his fangs bared themselves again.

“He was a sacrifice, and he lived? He got to keep his life, his family, his future?” Roxas shoved Axel into the wall with enough force to shake dust from it. “He got away.”

Demyx had been about to explain that Zexion had been under thrall when the slam made him jump. Axel only reacted with the vaguest surprise.

“Not like I knew it was an option.”

Roxas slammed his fist into the wall next to him. “I don't want to hear it.”

Zexion watched the pair warily. “What happens if they fight?”

“... I dunno.” Demyx was a tiny bit nervous over the possibility.

Axel hadn't flinched. “As far as I knew, the only way you were walking out of there was as a vampire. If you'd prefer to be dead, I can do that.”

“Why shouldn't I kill you? That would make us even.”

Axel grinned down at Roxas. “Do you know how?”

“I don't mind experimenting,” he sneered.

“Can we run?” Zexion urged for more – a plan, an option, anything. How fast were vampires, when they really needed to be? Would running prove fruitless?

“Maybe...?”

Not worth the risk. The two of them started backing up together, towards the mouth of the alley. “If they attack us, can you fight them?”

“I dunno, I've never been in a fight before...”

With oncoming certainty, Zexion thought he was going to die.

“Look. What's done is done, got it memorized?” Indifferently, Axel shifted away from the wall. “I still have no clue how anyone could've survived that.”

Roxas's glare could have burned through ice, but he seemed to accept that. “Fine,” he turned his gaze on Zexion, “but now I have to have him.”

“No!” Demyx immediately pulled Zexion behind him, acting as an inhuman shield. Then he considered whether or not turning tail and running would undermine his daring move.

“No,” Axel agreed, rolling his eyes. “I'm serious, you'll get sick.”

“I don't care,” Roxas snapped, striding forward. “Let me get sick, this will make me feel much better.”

Zexion quickly moved farther backwards, not having much faith in Demyx as a protector. Had no one passed this street, or overheard arguing? Maybe if Demyx did hold them off, he'd have enough time to reach a populated area... They might try to put him under thrall again, but they wouldn't dare kill him in public. To risk exposure would surely cost them more than Zexion's life was worth.

Axel breezily grabbed Roxas by the back of his neck. “You're being petty.”

“So?” He tried to shake him off. “I'm dead, I don't have to be mature.”

“Not to hear the Elder Ones tell it,” Axel rolled his eyes. “How about this. I'll let you feed on someone else.”

It would have been much easier to simply let Roxas do as he pleased and watch him suffer the consequences, but Axel didn't think he could bear a lifetime of Demyx's whining, even if they only crossed paths once a year at the obligatory harvest.

“I want him. He dies like he was supposed to, just a little late.”

“Demyx...” Zexion breathed, a little faint.

“That's just murder!” Demyx burst out. “He only came as a favor and I promised he'd be okay so just... Just leave him alone!”

Axel arched an eyebrow. Roxas looked unimpressed.

“Because he's your pet?”

Zexion choked on outrage.

“Because he's my friend.” Demyx drew himself up, psyching himself up (with very mixed results) to hold his ground.

Roxas glanced back at Axel, and with merely that look, it was understood that mocking Demyx was grounds for a truce. “I don't know where to start pitying.”

“He really should have gone with 'pet',” Axel muttered. “At least that draws a line between predator and prey...”

“Stop calling him prey!” Demyx pouted.

“Axel, what happens if an Elder finds out he tricked them?”

“You know, I've never found a vampire alive who could answer that question.”

Demyx froze, eyes wide. Zexion's mouth was dry, unable to process all the things terrifying him at once.

Pleased, Roxas said, “Well, then. Can't have him pulling that again next year, right?”

Despondent and fearing for his life, Demyx implored, “Don't tell... Please?”

“'Course, Dem. We're all friends here,” Axel soothed. “But, you know... If we did kill your friend, that'd take care of the evidence...”

“No,” he replied reflexively, as though he'd been offered an opportunity he had to decline.

Roxas ran his tongue over his fangs. “We're solving your problem.”

It was time. They had to flee, they had to run - “Zexy, go -”

“Hold on, we're still not killing him,” Axel snorted. “Seriously, Rox, we're not. But I do want to know how you did it.”

Roxas stopped and glared again, put out over having his hopes raised. Zexion thought, with the lack of oxygen and pounding heartbeat, that he might wind up passing out, and hoped Demyx would be conscientious enough to catch him.

“... There's a way out of the well,” Demyx informed him, shifting warily. “I just, um, faked killing him and picked him up from in there... That's all it was.”

Axel hummed in consideration. “No kidding? In hindsight, that makes sense... I guessed they'd just dragged you up out of it, but never figured out how. But you actually walked out.”

Zexion was that much paler, being forced to relive that night. His eyes took on a hollow distance, wishing he could wrench himself from the memory – the clogging stink of blood, infection, decay...

“Alright then. We'll be in touch.” Axel took Roxas's arm to pull him along. “Let's go.”

“Wait – huh?” Demyx gaped. That was it? They were going?

“Don't believe this...” Roxas muttered icily.

“You didn't believe in vampires, either.”

Roxas shook Axel off, but walked by his side as they left the alley. “You better get me something nice on the way home”

“Whatever you want without a throat.”

They stood there for almost a minute, stumbling back onto the lit streets with their heads swimming. With the immediate danger removed, Demyx allowed himself to mourn for their date, which possibly could have led to the development of more romantic interludes.

Abruptly, Zexion gripped Demyx's sleeve. He was certain he could smell, taste, feel the mountain of corpses under him, around him -

“Zexy?” Demyx coaxed nervously.

“Please take me home.”

“... Okay.”

Zexion did not want to be alone. 'Home' felt oddly vulnerable, and too close to the site of his trauma. Home was where he'd holed up for a week, recounting his experience again and again every sleepless night and day. His first choice for someone to stay with was his study partner, Lexaeus, but that was woefully not an option. Lexaeus was staying with his grandmother in order to help with renovations and was partway through a very nice hand-carved shelving unit; he didn't have time to tend to Zexion.

Thus, he holed up in Demyx's apartment, burying himself in blankets and volumes upon volumes of books. He only spoke or acknowledged Demyx to turn down offers of food, appetite nonexistent when the phantom taste of rot refused to leave the back of his throat.

Nowhere near as justified, Demyx was equally miserable over the idea that Zexion was angry with him. The sun had set hours ago, but he had no desire to go anywhere. Lying on his couch, Demyx cocooned himself in blankets with only his arms free to play his guitar. He plucked away at it, producing gloomy notes and an aimless tune.

It was more soothing than quiet, but the knock on the door still managed to metaphorically shatter the silence. Zexion started violently, gripping the covers of his book like a safety blanket. Demyx flew upright, blankets tumbling off his head and shoulders.

“It's okay,” he reassured him uncertainly. “It's, um, probably just maintenance. I did ask them to fix my shower... last month...”

Zexion pulled his book into his blanket barrier.

First setting down his guitar, Demyx went to open the door, and yelped. Zexion sharply raised his head.

“Go away!”

Axel caught the door before he had a chance to slam it shut. “Relax, will you? We're just visiting.”

Zexion pitched over the side of the chair and slid behind it.

“Actually,” Axel pushed the door in, “I was hoping to impose. Roxas really needs to lie down on something other than a bench, and motels charge for stain removal.”

“Huh?! No! You have to leave!”

There was a groan of utter misery from the hallway. Roxas stood close by with his forehead pressed to the wall, sounding like he was on death's door. It gave Demyx pause.

“What's... wrong with him?”

“Overate,” Axel explained, unsympathetic. “And I think he's drunk. Are you gonna invite us in or what?”

Roxas raised a hand and pointed a limp finger at Axel, moaning, “He poisoned me...”

“You wanted a snack. I didn't force you to drink.”

Demyx's hold on the door slackened. “... So we can get drunk?”

From behind the chair, Zexion distantly remembered his interest in that question.

“Ugh...” Thick trails of blood started to run from Roxas's nostrils. He dragged his hand up to his face and whimpered in defeat. “Fu-uck...”

“Let's get that cleaned up...” Axel wound an arm around his waist and hauled him past Demyx.

“Hey! I didn't invite you in!”

“You're dead. That condition only applies to the living.”

“... It's rude, though,” Demyx mumbled, letting the door shut.

Zexion stared at the pair, frozen still, as Axel brought Roxas over to the couch. Roxas left a trail of drips in his wake, not seeming to care where he was led to.

“You should probably move these,” Axel nodded to the blankets and guitar.

Demyx frantically hastened over to remove them, whining, “Don't bleed on my couch...”

Roxas spoke sullenly, though the edge was somewhat lost due to the thickness of his voice. “Jus' geb me do a sink...”

“Yeah, alright,” Axel agreed, rolling his eyes as though sharing a joke with the other two as he took Roxas to the kitchen. “Kids, right?”

“Huh?” Demyx just clutched his guitar, bubbly with anxiety. Zexion didn't respond, backing away hastily as they passed in front of him, though he was starting to wonder about Roxas's condition through the choking fear.

With a long, miserable moan, Roxas threw himself over the edge of the sink and let his head hang, blood freely pouring from his face. Axel patted his back twice.

“Just let it all out,” he wheedled. “While you're hanging there, you can think some more about how I'm always right.”

Roxas's curses were indistinct.

“... You said he's sick?” Zexion found his voice, though not his breath.

“Fed last night, like I told him not to,” Axel smirked, now rubbing Roxas's back. “He's got an excess of blood clogging his system, and it's gonna escape however it can.”

“It won't just come up through his mouth, as another animal gorging itself would?”

“The blood isn't just hitting his stomach.” Axel continued to show no compassion for Roxas's plight. The bloodsick vampire was starting to feel even more sickened by the smell of so many living humans nearby.

Demyx teetered from one foot to the other, pulling a face. “Ew...”

“Oh, of course.” Zexion, on the contrary, sounded satisfied by this answer. “I've... been trying to understand vampire digestion.”

“Really?” Axel glanced at Demyx, amused. “With him as your subject?”

“Why're you saying it like that...” Demyx protested.

Zexion swallowed his fear, in light of the potentially informative discussion he was having. “He's the only one I have...”

“Good point. Who knows what all that pig's blood does to your system, though,” Axel snorted.

“So, is human blood beneficial to you?”

“Why do you think Demyx is so weak? Kinda pathetic, right?”

“You don't have to be mean about it,” Demyx mumbled.

“I know he's exclusively on the legal stuff, which is why I brought Roxas here to practice hunting. Not so many strange deaths out this way, which means a fledgling is less likely to fuck up and get caught. So now Demyx looks like a legitimate vampire and Roxy's learning!” Axel flashed Demyx a smirk. “You should really thank me sometime.”

Head still in the sink, Roxas spitefully flicked fingerfuls of blood at Axel.

“So, as a fledgling vampire, he's in your charge?” Zexion was gaining confidence by the minute.

“I'm his sire,” Axel said with something akin to affection. He ignored the blood flecking his clothing. “I show him the ropes. Teach him valuable life lessons. Like don't overeat.”

Roxas reached up to run the tap as the blood flow began slowing.

“It's interesting that he seems to be hemorrhaging...”

Scrubbing hard at his face, Roxas shut off the taps and came up with a long red streak across his mouth and cheek. “I'm glad it's good for you,” he growled at Zexion.

Demyx looked revolted.

“He's got a bit of a temper tantrum going,” Axel told them, running his thumb over the bloody streak. “It's the booze.”

“Sitting now,” Roxas grumbled.

“C'mon.” Axel looped an arm under his. Roxas was going to make him do all the work of getting them back to the living room.

Slinking after them, Demyx pleaded, “Don't bleed on my couch, though.”

“Learn to clean, Dem.”

Zexion was now starting to have a hard time being intimidated by the two vampires who, only one night ago, had threatened his life. “Alcohol did this to him?”

“It's making him worse. Keeping him off-balance.” Axel let Roxas slide onto the couch. “Nothing like disorientation and vertigo to make blood-bloating a really stellar experience. Right, Roxy?”

Roxas gnashed his teeth at him before his head fell back onto the couch.

“I wasn't certain alcohol would affect you the same way,” Zexion fished for more details.

“Blood alcohol content. Poison blood, poisoned vamp.”

“Oh-h,” Demyx nodded in understanding.

“That makes sense. The blood is all that you absorb, therefore you absorb all of its contents. I don't suppose you have functional livers to filter it, either...”

“Nope. Roxas will be feeling this for at least a week.”

This was new information to everyone in the room, and Roxas whimpered indignantly. Demyx had ceased to find this fascinating, thought, as jealousy reared up inside his chest like an ultimately harmless garter snake.

It was silly to be upset that Zexion was directing all his questions to Axel, now, but...

“This certainly has an impact on the general image of vampires,” Zexion mused.

“Which is why I'll murder you if you spread this stuff around.” Axel grinned, his fangs long, and rendered Zexion silent. “Kidding. If you're really 'Demyx's friend', your imagine of vampires was ruined already. So, I don't care.”

“It was not,” Demyx mumbled a protest. “Zexion thinks vampires are cool...”

“I could've guessed that. The goth hair and eyeliner gave it away.”

Zexion ignored that comment, as he wasn't particularly insulted. “Would you... object to me asking other questions?”

“If I can ask one. Did you do Demyx's eyeliner yesterday?”

“Yes.”

“It looked good,” Axel complimented. “You should do that more often.”

Demyx mumbled vaguely and scuffed the floor with his grubby sock.

“I might, but I assume that's sarcasm.”

Axel gave Zexion a flat look and indicated his own wing-tipped eyes. His liner was red; really, if Zexion had thought to imagine the modern vampire before he'd known, Axel would have been very close to the picture in his head.

“I see your point.”

“Anyway, ask whatever you want.” Axel was plainly appeased by the idea of being deferred to as an expert.

Zexion launched right into it. “While we're on the subject of his condition, it is possible for other substances in the blood to affect vampires? For example, high blood sugar, or even disease?”

“Blood sugar, yes. Disease, no. We might wind up as carriers for a disease, but we aren't personally affected.”

Demyx wished he'd known that. More so that he could have told Zexion first, rather than any practical worries about his health.

“Naturally, you aren't the same species,” Zexion mused. “Are there diseases among vampires, though?”

“Nah. The topmost killer of vampires is other vampires.”

He was pleased to find that was a truthful part of folklore. “Would you mind if I made notes on what you tell me?”

The strokes to Axel's ego would have had him agreeing to most things. He sank onto the couch arm, straddling it. “Naturally. If you have more questions, you aren't gonna retain it all.”

“Excellent.” Zexion whirled around to pick up his notebook filled with Demyx's answers. Said vampire was sulking, now.

Roxas made an exasperated noise. “You're making friends?”

“Aw, don't be jealous. You're the only friend I need.” Axel ran a hand through Roxas's hair.

“If you keep touching me, you'll end up with blood all over you.”

“What a nightmare. Your eye is starting to leak.”

Groaning, Roxas brushed his fingers against his cheek and brought them away covered in blood. “No...”

Axel snapped his fingers at Demyx. “Tissues?”

“Why don't you go get 'em?”

“How should I know where they are?”

“Can't I just slit a vein medieval-style?” Roxas moaned.

“That's not a cure so much as an eating disorder.”

Roxas dropped his heavy head down again, mumbling. “I hate you...”

“Whatever, babe,” Axel cooed, and held out his hand. Grudgingly, Demyx retrieved napkins from the kitchen and passed a wad of them to Axel, who transferred it to Roxas. He slapped them moodily to his face and moaned again, tender everywhere.

Rapid-fire notes were jotted into Zexion's notebook.

“You're in the worst of it,” Axel murmured. “It'll pass.”

Roxas fell face-first into the cushions. One hand dragged all the way down Roxas's body as Axel sat up.

Zexion cleared his throat. “If you wouldn't mind clarifying a few things...”

“Fire away.”

“You mentioned vampires are the greatest threat to each other... Is it common, then, for a vampire to kill his own kind?”

“Common enough. Territory, marital disputes, sire drama...” At that, he patted Roxas, who hissed. “There's really only so long vampires can stand to be around each other.”

“Marital disputes, really?” Zexion's pencil flew over the page.

“Some of the older vamps think divorce is taboo... And others cheat.” Axel smirked. “Hard to keep that under wraps for decades. Go figure.”

“So you still marry... I'll come back to questions about that.” A church wedding would surely be out of the question... “I'd appreciate it if you could debunk some myths for me. How vampires can be killed, their weaknesses...”

Axel laughed. Loudly, and for some time. “Should I demonstrate on Demyx?”

Demyx's eyes went round. “No, Demyx doesn't like that idea.”

“I won't be endangering Demyx,” Zexion agreed.

Muffled, Roxas spoke into the couch cushions. “He's try'na kill you...”

“I'm making a professional study,” Zexion was affronted. “I'm a scientist.”

“Yeah, I don't care. That remains a mystery.” He grinned, delighting in how infuriating that must be. Zexion did need a second to struggle with the knowledge that information was being kept out of his grasp.

“... Will you at least tell me if one thing is true or false?”

“Ask and find out.”

“Does Christian symbolism really weaken or burn you? Crucifixes, holy water?”

Axel's lips curled in a tiny sneer. “On a Christian vampire, sure.”

“Wh -” Demyx sagged with relief. “So not... non... Christian ones?”

“Why would a Christian crucifix harm, I dunno... a Muslim vampire? Buddhist?”

“... Oh.” It seemed obvious, when Axel put it that way.

Zexion looked immensely satisfied. “That has always bothered me.”

“So, I'm safe from holy water?” Demyx sought clarification, brought out of his sulky stupor in his relief.

“Want to test it?”

“No!”

“Fascinating,” Zexion murmured.

“So, there you go.” Axel leaned over to check on Roxas.

“I think I'm about to lose a lot more blood all over the couch,” Roxas spoke up faintly.

“That's a shame.”

“Gross,” Demyx despaired.

Roxas was getting very sick of him. “If you don't like it, get me to your bathroom. Now.”

“I'll do it.” Axel got off the couch and drew Roxas up into his arms. Demyx saw dark spots sinking into his blankets and turned to Zexion, pleading.

“Can we go? Your apartment? They can't get in there.”

Surprisingly, Zexion found that he didn't want to depart just yet. “There's so much I can learn from him, still...”

“Please?”

“Don't be rude, Dem,” Axel called over his shoulder, carrying Roxas down the hall. He'd started to cough and gag, blood bubbling up over his lips.

“Just a few more questions,” Zexion bargained.

Demyx squirmed. He wasn't willing to leave Zexion alone with them, but honestly, he just wanted to run away. “If you really want... I guess...”

“This may be my only chance.”

“Fine, okay,” Demyx whined, and slumped against the wall. He cradled his guitar like an oversized teddy bear.

“You're upset.”

“I don't like them...” Demyx trailed off to a mumble. “And... you like them better.”

“Like them?” Zexion repeated blankly. “They want to kill me.”

“But they know stuff... You love knowing stuff.”

That was true. He did enjoy knowing stuff. “It's just... you aren't certain on a lot of points.”

Demyx stared at the floor drearily. “Yeah, but... I know that, just...”

“But you are...” Zexion hesitated for a long moment. “You're a friend. My friend.”

Some of the gloom dissolved and Demyx glanced up at him. “I know...”

“I may not be able to trust you yet, but I consider you a friend still, and... that's something I find very difficult to grasp.”

“Well... I like you a lot.” Demyx scuffed his foot against the floor again. “Anyone else, I would've run away.”

Zexion swallowed the sudden lump that had risen to his throat. “Really...?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I see...” He wasn't certain how to feel about that. Demyx was cowardly, showed no particular physical prowess, and wouldn't have had a second thought leaving some other person for dead... But for Zexion, he'd stayed.

“And, um, I wouldn't hurt you,” Demyx interrupted his thoughts with an eagerness to one-up Axel and Roxas.

“That's cute,” Axel chimed in, coming back to the living room. “I'm rooting for you two.”

Zexion hadn't heard him coming back. He would note that after; vampires seemed light on their feet...

No, that wasn't right. He'd heard Demyx clunking around the room with a stubbed toe, before.

“Where's -” Demyx began to ask.

“Roxas? Bleeding out in your bathtub.”

“Will he bleed until he needs to feed again?” Zexion questioned, somewhat with self-preservation in mind.

“He's just losing the excess.”

“Approximately how much is that?”

“As much blood as a drunk co-ed would have to lose before she dies,” Axel replied without so much as blinking.

“Approximately five quarts,” Zexion automatically deduced. “Less, depending on her size.”

“That's so much to clean,” Demyx complained.

“Let's go ahead and round to five quarts. He hasn't learned to stop drinking yet, either.”

“I'll look into methods of cleaning blood,” Zexion reassured Demyx.

“Thanks...”

Zexion flipped to the next page of his notebook and regarded Axel again. “Do you mind answering a few more questions?”

“Sure. Why not.” Axel dropped onto the couch. His jeans wound up accordingly bloodstained.

“I'd like to start with a personal question...”

Axel arched an eyebrow coolly. Glancing at Demyx and back, Zexion fought through the embarrassment and hoped for a better answer than he got from Demyx.

“... How old are you?”

“You won't like it.”

“I asked the question.”

“Thirty-eight.”

Zexion's expression was unchanged, braced for such disappointment. “I suppose it's better that you're closer to Demyx's age.”

“We're some of the closest in age, as it so happens.”

Demyx grumbled about that very fact, but it was all inaudible gibberish.

“Have there been others, between Demyx and your...” Zexion trailed off, unsure what to call him. Luckily, Axel filled in the blank.

“Roxas? Yeah, a few. But they were made on purpose to replace the dead.”

“Were the replacements chosen, or killed at random?”

“It's all down to the Elder One,” Axel explained. “He decides, and the coven can ask or make suggestions...”

Zexion latched the mention of the vampire he was most afraid of and awed by. “I'd like to know more about this Elder One. I've heard a little from Demyx...”

“The Elder One is a very old, very dramatic guy who's accumulated a lot of wealth and many underlings,” Axel rattled off, and it was obvious by his tone that he didn't take the Elder One very seriously. “The name he goes by is Xemnas, but no one knows what it used to be.”

“He has a name?!”

Both Zexion and Axel gave Demyx a strange look.

“Not one you're allowed to call him.”

“Oh,” Demyx wilted. “But you can?”

“Not to his face. My sire's the only person I know who's on first-name terms...”

Demyx fell silent, feeling rather silly and out of place. Zexion continued to ask questions, and Axel continued to answer them in a self-satisfied, assured manner that made Demyx feel all the more inadequate. Despite what Zexion had claimed, he undeniably found Axel a more useful resource than Demyx, and such a demoralizing fact put an expanding wall of distance between them. Zexion was practical, and once he knew all there was to know about vampires...

Would he have any use for Demyx, anymore?

For several days, Axel and Roxas imposed their presence in Demyx's apartment, but he did not play the part of a good host. It was Demyx's turn to retreat to the only safe haven he knew, which was Zexion's apartment. They would be kept safe by the invisible barrier of mystical death-repellent energies until such a time Zexion invited them in, which was not his intention.

Perhaps the extended stay had awoken some previously untapped well of empathy, for the arrangement was actually suiting Zexion fairly comfortably. He had gone so far as to let Demyx work his way up the ranks of sleeping arrangements; he had allocated the use of the couch on night one (or, rather, day), the bedroom floor on day three, and then allowed Demyx to join him on the bed on day five. At that point, he had started to seriously consider whether or not their relationship could be defined as 'dating', a conundrum which occupied him even more than the book in his lap.

Demyx had not brought much to entertain himself apart from his guitar, but that suited him just fine. He seemed to find Zexion's possessions far more interesting, and had set himself up behind the couch with a box of cookies and some tarot cards. He had to follow the book pretty closely in order to divine anything, his main focus being his love fortune.

If he wound up regurgitating the cookies onto Zexion's cards or books, it would be safe to predict that his love fortune was very poor indeed. For the moment he wasn't in danger of doing so, and was thus engrossed in the meaning of the nine of cups when there was a knock on the door, exactly like the alarming first.

Zexion reflexively jumped, but calmed, setting his mug of tea aside. “... I should...”

“Uh-huh,” Demyx agreed, head tilting back until it rested against the couch.

The door opened to a broadly-grinning Axel with only one intact arm. “Hey.”

His unexpected presence was never taken well. Zexion took a sharp step back, and Demyx scrambled to his feet in a panic.

“Well, that's not a nice way to greet someone,” Axel said in mock offense.

“Oh,” Demyx relaxed a little when he remembered his whole reason for staying with Zexion. “He can't come in.”

“No, he can't. And he won't be invited,” Zexion reassured him pointedly, folding his arms.

“Not fishing for one. Roxas needs clothes.”

“His are ruined, I assume.”

“Big time,” Axel confirmed. “You have any tight pants? I want him in tight pants.”

Normally, the presumption that Zexion would automatically be willing to lend his once-attacker a pair of jeans and a clean shirt would offend him so deeply that he'd have shut the door in Axel's face. However, the opportunity to get Axel and Roxas out of their lives again was not one he would overlook.

“I can look around for something I won't want back, if it means you'll return the use of Demyx's apartment.”

Axel nodded sagely. “Can't stand him around anymore, huh?”

“That's not what it is,” Demyx frowned.

Zexion simply ignored the remark. “Is he finally in a fit state to travel?”

“Fit enough. It's so sweet that you care.”

“I wanted to be sure you don't make a scene on your way out.”

“I'll pass along your best wishes.”

Sighing, Zexion turned away to his bedroom, leaving Demyx to flounder ten feet from the doorway.

He fidgeted. “... Did you wreck any of my stuff?”

“Nothing's beyond repair.”

That was not an encouraging answer. Uncomfortable, Demyx edged his way over to Zexion's bedroom, thinking it might be a more conducive use of his time to observe the clothes-picking process.

He was in the midst of reluctantly admitting to himself that he wouldn't wear some of the clothes he'd bought in his more 'intense goth' days. Zexion took down a pair of pants – baggy, but it wouldn't break his heart to deprive Axel of his perverse tastes – and a shirt, and sharply turned the moment he heard someone approach.

“Sorry!” Demyx announced his presence sheepishly. “Just me.”

“I have to think of a system to always know you're coming,” Zexion relaxed. Perhaps he'd been right, after all, in his assessment of light-footed vampires.

“I could... say so?” Demyx suggested.

“I was thinking more along the lines of a bell, but that could work.”

Demyx looked vaguely affronted. “Like a dog?”

“Oh – I didn't meant it as an insult.”

“Oh.” Just like that, Demyx was appeased. “So, do you have clothes and stuff?”

“Yes, I was just going to bring them out.”

“Want me to hand them to him? Just in case.”

Zexion watched Demyx nibble his lower lip, and found his anxiety to be well-founded. It had to take a lot for him to suggest putting himself in the line of fire, and Zexion would be remiss to discourage this developing brave streak. “That might be best.”

“Okay.” Demyx was bouncing with nervousness, but made his way back towards the front door anyway with Zexion in tow.

Axel was scrutinizing as much as Zexion's apartment as he could see, and his gaze lingered on the bookshelves while he tried to make out some of the more ludicrous titles such as, 'The Wendigo: Wendigone? The Theory of Extinct Beasts' and 'Vampyres Defanged'.

“Clothes! And now you'll go?” Demyx held out the bundle to Axel, who reached out to take them. Zexion's eyes were drawn at last to the wreck that was his left arm.

“Your hand,” he started, disconcerted.

“Hn? Oh – yeah,” Axel rolled up his sleeve, flexing his bitten hand and showing off his forearm. There were deep lacerations and puncture marks, dark and hollow, interestingly devoid of blood. “I let him gnaw his feelings out.”

“He made holes,” Demyx sounded horrified. Zexion considered asking to take a picture.

“Yeah, he's ferocious,” Axel commented fondly, and tucked the clothing under his arm. “I'll get upstairs, he'll shower, and we'll be out of your hair.”

“Good!” He was already past the alarming marks all over Axel's arm. Demyx was just relieved, having expected... Well, something worse.

With a smirk, Axel turned away, and none of them had any particular parting words to say. Zexion merely shut the door behind him, and a small ball of tension in his chest finally unraveled itself.

“... So, that's really good!” Demyx declared after beats of silence. “They'll be gone, and I'll... Well, you'll have your floor, and your bed...”

“Yes. And you'll have your own bed back.”

“What if mine's all bloody?”

“We'll go down to the laundry room very late.”

Demyx relaxed a little. “Yeah... Okay. Um, thanks for letting me stay.”

“No, not at all,” Zexion dismissed. “I wouldn't have felt comfortable leaving you with them.”

“You still could've, so...” Demyx wanted to kiss him. That would likely be odd to bring up out of the blue.

“Still, there's no need to thank me.”

“... Okay,” Demyx shrugged, and after another moment verging on uncomfortable, he went to get his guitar.

“You -” Zexion started, rather surprising himself. “That is, you don't have to leave right away.”

Demyx lit up. “Really?! Awesome, I didn't actually want to leave yet.”

They'd both become rather accustomed to having someone nearby, a safe presence they could turn to. Zexion thought he ought to extend a formal invitation. “You're welcome to stay... as my friend. As long as you're not making a lot of noise or being a distraction.”

He didn't seem to think that was a problem. Demyx shifted in that way he did when there was something he was a little nervous about. “Do friends ever... y'know...”

Zexion did not know. He said as much. “I don't know what you mean.”

“Do you wanna kiss your friends, ever?”

Honestly, and without fully thinking through his answer, Zexion replied, “Not usually.”

That brought a glimmer of hope to Demyx. “'Usually', so... Sometimes you do?”

Zexion looked seriously into his eyes. “Does this mean you do?”

He became flustered, like he wasn't expecting to have the question turned on him. “Well, um. I guess. Yeah.”

“... Sometimes, yes,” Zexion admitted.

“... Whoa,” Demyx breathed. “Me, right? I mean... You'd want to kiss me? Because I wanted to give you a thank-you kiss but I suppose that's kinda more for me than you unless you do wanna kiss...”

He'd started to babble. Zexion found it overwhelming. “Please slow down.”

“ - Heh, sorry.”

Zexion cleared his throat. “Kissing you is... a possibility I've considered.”

“That's cool,” Demyx said, a bit awed. Zexion thought about kissing him, with that inordinately busy and capable brain of his. How incredible.

As an aside, Zexion noted, “I've also considered trying to order a functional crossbow, but that's another matter entirely.”

“Oh. Not to use on me, though, right?”

“No, but to make me feel safer,” Zexion paused. “... And because I like them.”

“They're pretty cool,” Demyx agreed, looking at him with blatant admiration. It took Zexion a second to notice, but when he did, he faltered.

“Yes, they're-...”

Demyx tilted his head, expecting him to go on.

“You're... looking at me.”

“Yeah?” Thinking he was under suspicion, Demyx hastily clarified, “Not looking at your neck.”

“No, I can tell you weren't. You're just looking at me. Closely.”

“I do that sometimes,” Demyx seemed confused. “You're pretty.”

While not a compliment he'd ever received, and one that was oft considered unorthodox to be given between men, Zexion was helplessly flattered. “Um, thank you.”

“So...”

“Yes – we were just saying...”

“Kissing,” Demyx supplied.

“Right.” Out of nervous habit, Zexion sought a way to make conversation from the topic and wound up blurting, “Your mouth is one of the first things I noticed about you.”

“Really?” Demyx grinned, pleased.

“Yes,” he babbled. “Your lips, specifically, but later that was somewhat overshadowed by the... the teeth.”

“Yeah, I get that...” Demyx fidgeted. “If we do kissing stuff I promise I'll keep the fangs... un-fang-y.”

Tentatively, Zexion moved closer. “I would appreciate that.”

“So... Do you maybe wanna...?”

“Could we sit down first?”

“Sure!” Almost sweeping up his hand, Demyx brought Zexion to the couch, and he noticed more than ever the total lack of warmth in Demyx's hands. They were cool and soft, like clean running water. Zexion was rather breathless, by the time they sat down.

He was sitting very close, and glancing at Zexion's lips. He wasn't sure if he should move closer or farther back. “I'm not sure how I should...”

Demyx was already leaning in to seal their lips enthusiastically, and Zexion momentarily forgot all motor skills.

It was not too hard, nor was it particularly gentle. Demyx was a little too ecstatic to be all softness and caution, enthusiasm taking a firm lead on things. Carefully and gradually, Zexion tilted his head and figured out step by step how to return the pressure. There was a part of his brain – the sensible part – that reminded him of the potential danger in kissing Demyx, but it added a thrill in the moment instead of encouraging him to pull away.

It was weird, how not-weird it was. Demyx could feel Zexion's pulse through his lips, sensitive to the soft thrum and the warmth and everything that made Zexion human. He started to toy with Zexion's fingers as he pulled away.

“Whoa... You kiss nice.”

Slightly flushed, Zexion glanced down at the hand in Demyx's. “... Thank you. I've never had a critique before.”

Giddy, Demyx leaned in to recapture his lips with a laugh, and Zexion was slightly more assured when he reciprocated this time. Demyx's tongue skimmed and he found that Zexion even tasted warmer, a definite step up from kissing other vampires.

Zexion was equally caught up in the feeling of Demyx's mouth – not cold, exactly, but not as oppressively warm as he imagined kissing would be, and it made him feel oddly comforted when he’d anticipated claustrophobia.

It helped that Demyx was still playing with his fingers, stroking them one at a time with his own, and it was strangely fascinating. Zexion made a soft sound of approval and tried to emulate... whatever trick Demyx's tongue was doing to him.

“Wow,” Demyx broke away with a content sigh, nuzzling his jaw. “We should be kissing buddies.”

“Kissing buddies?” Zexion repeated, blankly. Perhaps that made more sense to someone who hadn't just experienced their first kisses with a vampire.

“Boyfriends!”

“Oh,” Zexion breathed softly, comprehending.

“If you want to!” Demyx clarified, but felt fairly self-assured that Zexion would want to, until he spoke again.

“I haven't had any sort of romantic partner before...”

“... Oh,” Demyx sat back, a bit crestfallen. “Does that mean no?”

“That isn't what I said.”

“Oh,” he sighed again, smile returning in relief.

Considering his answer carefully, Zexion decided it was too early to make up his mind without debating the pros and cons. “I'd like to think about it. While you're not staying in my apartment. Is that acceptable?”

“Right! Sure!” Demyx looked around. “Um, should I go now so you can start thinking about it?”

A small smile found its way onto Zexion's face. It did not hurt, which was almost surprising when one considered how rare the expression was. “Yes, maybe you should.”

“Okay! Goodbye kiss?”

Zexion's exasperation was a little feigned. “Alright.”

Their kiss went on for as long as it took for Demyx to let out another short burst of enthusiasm, which Zexion appreciated even if he couldn't keep up with it. Zexion briefly drew his lip into his mouth when Demyx pulled away, watching him pick up his guitar again.

They bade each other farewell with a promise to stop by or text (Zexion would have to stop by, he knew; if he didn't get the ball rolling when it came to cleaning Demyx's apartment, it would remain bloodstained forever), and then... Zexion was alone, with his head in his hands and a myriad of thoughts.

In any common and sensible circumstance, Zexion would maintain his distance from any creature capable of cold-blooded murder. Perhaps, though, dating a vampire wasn't such a common circumstance. A monster Demyx may have been, in all the most technical of ways... but he was also his attractive neighbor and a very good kisser.

It wasn't the wisest course of action, but Zexion felt a guilty sort of satisfaction in knowing that he would be the boyfriend of a vampire.