Memories slipped away like a dream, sliding through gloved fingertips, dripping to the ground with sorrow. He could remember few things from his time walking in the light, covered only by his leather hood. Leather gloved digits curled in the empty air, failing to grasp anything close to hope. What was hope when the darkness was swimming, engulfing all that it touched? It was a disaster, yet comforting in an odd way. The other Nobodies soon began to fade from mind, names becoming nothing but mere words he could not understand. Deep down, in the pit of his stomach, he felt a pang. The pain spread and he was forced to rest his hands there, pressing the emerging pressure down.
Emotions. They had always warned him that they were not real, and yet, here he was- suffering. Misery and pain. Had it all been a lie? A lie he told himself, weaving through the strings of his mind, playing a fool to the game? He let his fingers uncurl, dropping invisible bonds, letting everything go. Perhaps he had lied to himself, but how could he have? He felt things, he'd known he did. From the moment he'd arrive in the castle,he'd known he was different. But, reduced to a life of solitude and darkness, he was forced to face the cold harsh truth.
And the truth was not kind, nor did it leave a warmth within his chest like he so longed to feel. He felt empty, cold, lost and forgotten. How long had it been since the hero had slayed him, leaving him to fade to nothing like this? He rested his hands on his chest, pressing, yet felt nothing. Sea green eyes were covered by pale eyelids. Perhaps it was time to let go, to give in and forget everything he'd ever told himself. He was a fool for believing anything he'd said so strongly- everyone had been right. They had no hearts, why, they didn't even exist! The world moved on as if not a single life was lost, but it had been. Oh, it truly had been. Were he back in the castle, seated on the comfortable white couch, he would have written a song to display his concerns.
Music. The pulse that coursed through his body, what drove his fingers to strum the strings, what poured from his lips when he sang- it was all passion. How could he be told they had no hearts when his music spoke a thousand words that he could not? Yet, his beloved instrument had shattered to pieces, darkness swallowing its remains. Even so, he could hardly remember a single tune he'd written. He'd use his songs for attacks, defenses and even for leisure time. All in all, he had been a fairly talented musician. A musician who also had a knack for manipulating those around him to do his work, leaving him time to lounge. Many of the other Nobodies thought him to be incapable, stupid and even pathetically childish. He was none of those, save for maybe a little childish. He was not a fighter, not by display, but when he was pushed too hard, the ocean shoved back harder. Demyx was a force to be reckoned with. If only they had seen that. If only he had tried harder to defeat that hero whose name he had long forgotten. That was all over now. As it was, he could hardly remember what a musician was. He could hardly remember anything.
Not even his own name came to mind anymore. Something simple, yet unique. His lips parted as he spoke the name slowly. "De...myx," he murmured, "My...name is Demyx." His hands lifted to press against his ears, pushing tightly. If he could hold on to one thing, he wanted it to be his name. The darkness could take anything else away from him, but not his name. He tipped his head down, once styled mohawk flopping forward uselessly. All he could do was repeat his name, over and over.
Demyx.
Demyx.
Demyx.
His eyes had closed, leaving him to nothing but pure darkness.
Demyx. My name is Demyx. My name...
He could hear the faint sounds of people talking. He jerked his head up, wondering if it was the darkness whispering to him. He slowly stood, lowering his hands from his ears. He took a cautious step forward before pausing. What if this was a trick? His nose wrinkled slightly, though he dropped the act swiftly- after all, was there a point anymore? He took a tentative step forward. What did he have to lose? He outstretched his hand, reaching through the darkness. There was a light peering through, almost as if a beckoning call. All his non-existence, he had pretended to be less intelligent than he was, if only to get the easier missions. It was now, however, that his logical side showed more, the gears in his mind turning round and round. He hesitated, frowning as if to second guess himself, and then reached ahead again. As soon as his fingers touched the light, he knew it was too much.
Warmth greeted his gloved fingertips. It was the last thing he could remember before his body exploded in pain, splintering through his body. He cried out, trying to pull away from the tear he had opened, but nothing could stop it. He resisted the sting of the light, crying out as more pain coursed through him, mind swimming with a million different memories. The darkness began to clear, leaving him stunned and in agony. His vision swam, colors and brightness blinding him momentarily. The shadows wrapped around him, carefully forming his black coat once more, enveloping his legs in the same black pants and those leather boots. His knees gave out first, sending him crashing to the stone ground. Sea green eyes, usually filled with curiosity and possible mischief, were now dulled. A small whimper slipped through his lips before he fell to the side, too weakened to move.
Whatever he had done, it had gotten him out of the darkness. As his vision began to fade, he tried to think of where he was. Yet, he couldn't seem to think at all. He grasped at nothing, body twitching as he finally let go. Resisting was too much effort. His eyes fell shut, body lax in the alleyway. Odd...
He could only remember one thing.
My name is Demyx.