#open-;

[ TEXT : ____ ] Hey, I’ll pay. Wanna go to Wendy’s?

We do too have hearts. What kind of game was he playing? Everyone laughed at him, teased him, taunted him- all because he believed that deep down, there was something there. Something that was pushing him to do what he did, to be how he was. If the heart carried emotions, why was it that he could feel depression when the ocean did? Why would no one believe him? With a heavy sigh, he looked out at the world around him. It was a new location, somewhere he could hide from the illustrious Number VII for a while. He pulled his knees up, resting his chin against the leather material. With another heaving sigh, his sea-green hues stared out at the ocean. It was beautiful, chaotic and everything an ocean could be. The waves were roaring, crashing against the sand, taking grains away from the silent shore.  He placed gloved fingers against the sand, smiling weakly as the water splashed up and fell atop the leather, making soft pattering sounds. "What am I doing wrong," Demyx mumbled, staring out at the water, "Was I always supposed to be the weak one?" He wasn't weak, not by a long shot, but he wasn't the strongest. He pressed his face into the comfort of the leather draped around his fingers. It was like Xemnas was giving him these horrid assignments on purpose. Like the Organization didn't want him to come back. Maybe they didn't. He pressed his forehead against his knees, pulling in a shuddering breath. "I wish I could show them my true potential, but none of them understand. If they're going to keep sending me out like a lamb to the slaughter, why should I make myself obvious? I'd rather be stupid and incapable so that I get the easier jobs..." He glanced down at the card he'd pulled from his jacket, staring at the writing scrawled across it. Destroy the Keyblade Master. They're sending the wrong guy...