So, why is it that it seems Zexion never smiles? Why? Is it cause he's emoooooo? Or is it cause fangirls (or Namine) make too many assumptions?
Yeah, terrible summary. Not sure if I should post it on FFN. Anyway, story ahead! Very worksafe! And very gen.
She saw him there when she fled to the room for refuge. It was an unwelcome coincidence that he would be there when she so desperately wanted to be alone. Tall walls stacked with books, and one of their number held lightly in his hands. White tables, abandoned, and strewn about the room, which was really quite large enough for them to not intrude each other.
But she didn’t want to share the room with him, with anyone. She clutched her pad and pencil close to her slim frame, and her feet padded across the white tiles, to the white chair of one of the tables. He stood out like a horrible eraser mark and she frowned.
Though she couldn’t seem to ignore his presence as she set up her materials, he seemed deftly unaware of her. A frown that never seemed to vanish upon his features, and his hair tossed messily into his eyes. She wondered how he could stand it sometimes. She had only seen him once or twice in the castle, but she felt she knew enough about him.
She understood, unfortunately, that he was somehow better than her because he wore a black cloak, while she simply donned a white dress. The feeling of not existing was mutual, but he was better than her, and she didn’t dare to question why, just as she never questioned Marluxia or Larxene.
She picked up her pencil and he heaved a sigh. She cringed, fearing that she would be sent away. Desperately, she wanted the power to send him away, not the other way around. There was no other place for solitude, it seemed. For somehow, anywhere she ran there was always some number there.
But he said nothing, merely turned a page and she relaxed. Pencil met paper and she was able to immerse herself into drawing the images that danced behind her eyes. Images of stories she’d heard, things she’d observed, and anything her imagination could create. The silence rested easily in the room, and she found his presence, with his doleful stare and all too depressing frown, easy to ignore.
Bright colors blended well together, though they often created unpredictable surprises in her schemes. She frowned at the ruined picture, with its dark brown-looking color, which was supposed to be a blend of red and many other colors. No matter how bright the colors were, when they were blended together, they always tended to become darker. It was frustrating. He turned another page and she glanced at him.
He seemed so miserable. What could keep him to such a miserable task? Feelings aside, didn’t all Nobodies have activities they enjoyed doing and those that they didn’t? He certainly didn’t seem to be enjoying himself, she noted with a small frown of her own as a wisp of blond hair fell into her eyes. Oh dear, she was starting to look like him, she thought with a giggle.
He looked up and she turned away quickly, slouching down and praying the chair would hide her. He hmphed and she shrank further, readying the apologies in her head, because it was awful rude to laugh at someone, even if she technically wasn’t laughing at him. No doubt he would be just as cruel as Marluxia could be.
She heard the rustle of his cloak as he stood up, and the chair creaked in response. She wished she hadn’t giggled, and she could hear him approach her. He leaned over the chair and she looked up at him with the tiniest of smiles, her back against the seat of the chair, and her legs in an awkward position on the floor.
“What’s so funny?” he demanded with a quick glance to her pictures. He moved past her chair and grabbed one of them off the table. He seemed as engrossed by it as he had been by his book, which lay haphazardly on the arm of the chair.
She gulped. “Nothing… I was just laughing at myself,” she explained carefully, sliding off the chair so she could stand up.
“Is this supposed to be Axel?” he asked with a laugh and then glanced back at her. He was pretty short, she realized. She came up to his chin, whereas she only came to Axel’s chest. “What were you laughing about?”
“Well,” she bit her lip. “I was thinking I looked like you.”
He raised his eyebrow, for she couldn’t see the other one, at her. He must have been amused, because his expression seemed completely neutral. Perhaps that was a smile playing on the edge of his lips. “You honestly were thinking that? It begs the question, why?”
“I was frowning, and my hair fell into my eyes,” she explained, her eyes cast down to the floor. “I thought it should have been funny, because you’re so sad-looking--”
“I don’t look sad, my dear,” he corrected with a flourish of his hands as he deftly tossed the picture of Axel back onto the table. “Rather, I look pensive. Because I am. Why would I waste the effort to look as though I’m sad when I’m no longer capable of being such?”
She blinked and stepped away, hand resting over the tossed picture protectively. “I don’t understand.”
“Of course you wouldn’t. I’m thinking whenever I come here.” He walked away from her and snatched up his book, his eyebrows knitted together in annoyance. “And when I am thinking, I don’t often think of pleasant thoughts. Thus, why waste the effort to smile if the occasion doesn’t call for it?”
“You think sad thoughts?”
“I didn’t say sad. I simply said that they were not pleasant. Theories of science, battle plans, the horrible after-taste of Demyx’s cooking,” he smiled at the last one. “Not necessarily sad, but definitely not pleasant.” He walked towards her again, book in hand.
She noticed that he was marking the page he’d left off on. “Besides, shouldn’t you understand by now that Nobodies are incapable of such feelings as sadness? Isn’t that why you’re here?” She nodded dumbly. “Nobodies aren’t capable of being emotionally driven. Thus, wouldn’t it be a waste of my time to dwell on memories associated with useless feelings?”
“I didn’t know,” she trailed off. “I don’t have memories.”
“But you have a brain,” he concluded with a nasty smile. “You should be able to understand that emotions are useless, a waste of time. It’s rather sad for you to think any different.” He moved past her, to the bookshelf. He produced a bookmark and placed it carefully inside the bound text.
“But,” Namine interjected quickly. “Isn’t your goal—I mean the Organization’s goal to gain hearts? Why think emotions are silly if they’re what you desperately want?”
“Why do you twist my words?” He sighed again. “I said they’re silly, for a Nobody. If we were to become a Somebody, then they’d hardly be useless at all. Nobodies are unable to enjoy life, while Somebodies can. Nobodies are driven by their goals, because what else is there?”
“I don’t have a goal,” she commented quietly, falling back onto a chair.
“Of course you do. You simply don’t know it yet.” He rolled his eyes and she smiled.
“So, you’re not sad?”
“Of course not,” he said and looked away from her. “I’m just saving all my energy for the day when my smiles can mean something again.”