shaped like a croissant is

Scrambling at the intrusion and turning towards the voice, Demyx realized had been caught with his bad habit by the one person he was avoiding the entire night. Zexion—Ienzo, remember—was staring at him, his bangs tilted out of his face, the cruel demeanor of his former Nobody self replaced with one full of curiosity and wonder.

Demyx squirmed under his gaze, shame bubbling up in his chest. An emotion he could easily do without, but an apparent package deal with a heart. Instead of justifying his vice, he turned towards the city under repair. It was easier than admitting that, unlike Ienzo, confident and smart and right, who regained his heart and joined the winning side right away, he was a coward. He would’ve followed Xehanort and lost.

The others, the normal people, he could maybe convince that he was just swayed by lies to get his heart another way but Ienzo, he knows. He knows more than anyone else the suffocating feeling of nothingness, how the mind plays tricks on you, echoes of feelings you once had, how the numbness eats at you. It was easier to follow and to warm the benches on the reserve team, replaced by puppets, than it was to leave.

He braced himself for a lecture—Zexion had been good at those before, in those endless white halls—only to hear floorboards squeak and the sudden warmth of the man sitting next to him. Ienzo was quiet. The socializing downstairs must have worn him down. Staring at the city around them, the silence stretched on. The two of them sitting together, Ienzo holding his makeshift ash tray in his palm while they stared at a skyline ruined by years of turmoil.

Their years together in the Organization had been more professional than Demyx had wanted. When he had received his new name and saw the other boy close to his age (alone, unlike Axel and Saïx, a duo with their own baggage he wanted nothing to do with, thank you) he wanted to glom onto him right away. ‘Yes, we’re both in this horrible situation, but we can navigate it together, right?’ And maybe that would have been the case if it were anyone besides Zexion, always the professional.

Demyx turned towards him, noticing the furrow in his brow as Ienzo thought to himself, and realized that maybe he was waiting for Demyx to break the silence. Another inhale on the filter before he opens his mouth to—

“I wish you could have seen it. Radiant Garden. Before the Heartless.”

Blonde eyebrows crinkle as he stops, processing that thought, the weight of that sentiment clearly weighing heavy on Ienzo’s shoulders. Demyx nudges his leg gently with his own, as if that will help lighten the mood. He remembers carrying those puppets through the darkness, hauling them along with no help from that old man. He remembers Vexen telling him that Zexion will want to talk to him. That they have history. Watching the two of them reconnect in the labs was the first time he had ever seen Zexion cry. He hated it.

“Oh yeah…? Well, why don’t… you tell me all about it….?”

Demyx caught the hint of a smile out of the corner of his eyes at that, still too scared to look directly at him. Maybe they weren’t exactly best friends before all this but… Who else but another ex-Nobody could ever really “get” it? Their stories are chained together, like it or not.

Another click. A spark. A soft laugh this time, as the stories come flooding out.