Let Me Give The World To You
VI
"I want you to stay." you assert yourself firmly. Of course you were going to say that, of course you would want me here. Reunited loves of nine years past don't just sleep with each other and then run out. Not after what you and I have been through. Sacrificing ourselves for one another, better to die then to live alone--but we live. And now, once more, we live for each other. I, for one, would completely refuse separation at this point. Somehow, I would hope you feel the same. If we were taken from each other now...I know my world would fall apart around me.
I walk into your kitchen, frown in worry after you. That blanket can't be enough for you to wear...comforter or not, whether you're around me or otherwise...I would hate for you to fall victim to cold. You turn on the stove, pull out a griddle, begin to cook. The stove goes momentarily unattended as you leave the room. I sit alone at your kitchen table. Your whole apartment, so tastefully decorated, so neatly kept. A perfect model home. It hardly looks as if an actual human lives here--the fact that we're not truly human at all aside.
The funny things about this world. We fall in at the same age we were as Nobodies, the same age as we were when we first became Nobodies at all. For me, a flitting nineteen. You trump me in age, both by the time you arrived in the Organization and the time you turned Nobody. Always twenty-four, though so small for your age. If anyone saw us...would they think I was the older one? But that doesn't matter...as long as you exist, I couldn't care if I ever saw a trace of any of those prototype creatures again. For this whole world feels somehow...artificial.
You return, substantially more dressed than you were before, though that's not a difficult feat to achieve. The stovetop is fully ready now, you crack eggs onto it. Memories come back again, of you talking to me on one of those mornings, both of us wishing oh, if we were only human, we could be normal again...
Well, this is normalcy. But really, things like us can never be purely normal.
"I mean what I said about you saying, Demyx. I want you to abandon that place you're living in now, get your things, come here. Stay with me. There's no need for you to be living in the pits, in the alley of all things when I can so well provide for you here." You briefly look down, as if you're startled by your own assertiveness. "That is...should you want to remain with me."
I take my place across from you at the kitchen table, ironic how there are only two chairs, ironic that they be positioned like this. As if you were waiting for a lover...Well, here I am.
"Zexion, you should know I want to stay. There's nothing in this world anymore that would make me want to leave you. Nine years...nine years of loneliness, of broken memories, I never want that again. All those nights cradling that hole in my heart, clawing at its edges to just try and find what it was...not being able to remember you. You were--are--my world. Time and space won't change that. Even when I couldn't remember you--somehow, I knew. And now, knowing that you...that you are, that you exist...I refuse to give that up. I'll go with you to the death. Again. We've already been to hell and back, through a thousand instances of purgatory. It somehow seems...that we've come out of it now."
I lean forward, somehow hesitant now, lightly kiss your cheek. You flush beneath my touch, avert your eyes.
"I just couldn't be too careful...times have changed, you know"
"Nothing will change what we've had, Zexion. I would think that's been proven by now." I say, taking your hand.
We sit in silence, minds without thought, the only sensors going off in them reacting to the steady sensation of touch, warmth between our two hands. Such simple behaviors, but such prefect simplicity.
The spell doesn't break until the eggs start burning.
I walk into your kitchen, frown in worry after you. That blanket can't be enough for you to wear...comforter or not, whether you're around me or otherwise...I would hate for you to fall victim to cold. You turn on the stove, pull out a griddle, begin to cook. The stove goes momentarily unattended as you leave the room. I sit alone at your kitchen table. Your whole apartment, so tastefully decorated, so neatly kept. A perfect model home. It hardly looks as if an actual human lives here--the fact that we're not truly human at all aside.
The funny things about this world. We fall in at the same age we were as Nobodies, the same age as we were when we first became Nobodies at all. For me, a flitting nineteen. You trump me in age, both by the time you arrived in the Organization and the time you turned Nobody. Always twenty-four, though so small for your age. If anyone saw us...would they think I was the older one? But that doesn't matter...as long as you exist, I couldn't care if I ever saw a trace of any of those prototype creatures again. For this whole world feels somehow...artificial.
You return, substantially more dressed than you were before, though that's not a difficult feat to achieve. The stovetop is fully ready now, you crack eggs onto it. Memories come back again, of you talking to me on one of those mornings, both of us wishing oh, if we were only human, we could be normal again...
Well, this is normalcy. But really, things like us can never be purely normal.
"I mean what I said about you saying, Demyx. I want you to abandon that place you're living in now, get your things, come here. Stay with me. There's no need for you to be living in the pits, in the alley of all things when I can so well provide for you here." You briefly look down, as if you're startled by your own assertiveness. "That is...should you want to remain with me."
I take my place across from you at the kitchen table, ironic how there are only two chairs, ironic that they be positioned like this. As if you were waiting for a lover...Well, here I am.
"Zexion, you should know I want to stay. There's nothing in this world anymore that would make me want to leave you. Nine years...nine years of loneliness, of broken memories, I never want that again. All those nights cradling that hole in my heart, clawing at its edges to just try and find what it was...not being able to remember you. You were--are--my world. Time and space won't change that. Even when I couldn't remember you--somehow, I knew. And now, knowing that you...that you are, that you exist...I refuse to give that up. I'll go with you to the death. Again. We've already been to hell and back, through a thousand instances of purgatory. It somehow seems...that we've come out of it now."
I lean forward, somehow hesitant now, lightly kiss your cheek. You flush beneath my touch, avert your eyes.
"I just couldn't be too careful...times have changed, you know"
"Nothing will change what we've had, Zexion. I would think that's been proven by now." I say, taking your hand.
We sit in silence, minds without thought, the only sensors going off in them reacting to the steady sensation of touch, warmth between our two hands. Such simple behaviors, but such prefect simplicity.
The spell doesn't break until the eggs start burning.