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Description
Warm water poured down from the heavens, scorching hot teasing the goosebumps across icy white porcelain.  Rivulets of transparent lava danced down perfect curves, rolling across the smooth skin like rain on a windowpane.  Each drop pooled on the sleek tile below, accumulating in the cracks and skimming across what surface tension could not hold.  The hungry groan of the drain sang low in the background as its metallic lips swallowed all that had not soaked into the heat's willing victim.

Beautiful hands with long, narrow fingers scraped across their owner's screaming scalp, harshly assaulting the bleeding, colorless skin with furious nails and stinging shampoo.  More of the sanguineous liquid pooled in his mouth from a heavy tear in his inner lip, self-inflicted of course.  The boy's body quaked as another of his hated sobs rang into the endless drone of water crashing onto skin and tile.

Finally, the last of the blood and white foam had been removed from the boy's hair.  Still no trace of a smile anywhere on his body, he leaned over to the small knobs and shut the water off.  Dragging the towel dangling on the wall to his face, he worked any water and suds out of his eyes and began to rub his hair dry.  Shaking his head violently like a dog, the boy blinked slowly as locks of damp slate hair found their usual place ensconcing his right eye.

Fingering away a few more unnecessary tears, the slatenette perched himself on the counter of the cramped bathroom's sink, digging a small bottle of gel out of the concealed cabinet.  He worked what he had squeezed out into his hair, causing the blue-gray fluff to go flat and stiffen, making clean, even sheets layered around and over his face.

His red, swollen, salty wet face.

Just the sight of himself in such a state made more of the saline liquid deposit into the corners of his sapphire eyes.  "D-dammit..." he whispered to his reflection.  "When did I become... so weak...?"

Biting down on his wounded lip, the boy jumped down to his feet once more and faced the reflective glass bitterly, rearing his arm back and hurling the small container of hair gel he held at it.  More tears joined the first on his chin and in the corners of his pouting mouth as he realized he had lost his temper, and a spiderweb began to form on the mirror, nestling the embedded bottle.

Sighing heavily, he threw on the baggy shirt and sweats he had set out for himself, leaving the bathroom's steamy atmosphere behind and instead set off for a small walk through his home's endless white corridors.

It was a Saturday, which meant that, in Castle Oblivion at least, everyone got a break from whatever chores they had been assigned.  Yet strangely, the halls remained eerily silent and baron.  The slatenette plopped down onto one of the small, colorless benches linking the boarder columns and buried his face into his hands, balls of his palms rubbing into his tenderly shut eyelids.

"Hello there, Zexion.  You've wandered quite the distance from your usual abode, haven't you?"

The slatenette's head jerked over to the figure looming over him, thankful that the intruder had approached him from his right side—He won't be able to see Zexion's reddened, tear-stained eyes.  "So've you.  It's unlike an upper level member to wander down into neutral territory.  What brings you here?" he countered before his hands found his hanging face once more.

Zexion could clearly hear the intruder's footsteps, but didn't put forth the effort to try to locate him until he felt to hands on his hips.  Rather than shouting, the boy simply allowed his breathing to hitch and his muscles to tense up.  "You've been crying again. . . haven't you?" he heard the other's icy voice whisper into his ear, just as his muscular arms finished looping around his waist, bringing the two closer.

"Sh-shut up...  No I haven't.  I mean, wh-what gave you that impression?" the caged slatenette stuttered, trying to keep from letting out a soft whine of defeat.  "You won't look at me.  Either I said something wrong last night, or you're crying."

Both males fell silent, though the quiet was occasionally broken by the boy's ragged breathing or the adult's soft sigh.  "Zexii..." he whispered, sitting down on the bench and dragging the slatenette onto his lap.  The change of position elicited a small whine from the boy's throat, but he instinctively removed his hands and pressed his face into his lover's neck.

"I-I'm so sorry, Marluxia..." he whispered beneath his breath, clinging onto the older desperately.

"Don't be, Zex.  I just wish I knew what to say to take your sorrows away...  I wish I knew what to do to prove how much I love you..." the older recited gently.

At one point in time, Zexion would of loved to hear those words like he did at night, just as his eyes drooped shut and his mind sank towards the caressing Rem cycle.  But right now, they simply stopped his breathing for a moment as more of his pointless tears pooled into the crook of Marluxia's neck.

"Once...  When I was a child, someone told me that you have to be able to love yourself, before you can prove that you can love others.  I-I...  I honestly don't get how anyone could love me..." he murmured shakily, reaching up weakly to squeeze the pinkette's hood in his fist.

"And I honestly don't see how you could hate yourself.  Some day. . .You, the other Nobodies. . . The world will see the beauty I see in you. . .Some day, Zexion," Marluxia replied after a moment's pause.

"I still think you're the most beautiful creature the world could ever offer. . ."

"And I, you."

Description
Warm water poured down from the heavens, scorching hot teasing the goosebumps across icy white porcelain.  Rivulets of transparent lava danced down perfect curves, rolling across the smooth skin like rain on a windowpane.  Each drop pooled on the sleek tile below, accumulating in the cracks and skimming across what surface tension could not hold.  The hungry groan of the drain sang low in the background as its metallic lips swallowed all that had not soaked into the heat's willing victim.

Beautiful hands with long, narrow fingers scraped across their owner's screaming scalp, harshly assaulting the bleeding, colorless skin with furious nails and stinging shampoo.  More of the sanguineous liquid pooled in his mouth from a heavy tear in his inner lip, self-inflicted of course.  The boy's body quaked as another of his hated sobs rang into the endless drone of water crashing onto skin and tile.

Finally, the last of the blood and white foam had been removed from the boy's hair.  Still no trace of a smile anywhere on his body, he leaned over to the small knobs and shut the water off.  Dragging the towel dangling on the wall to his face, he worked any water and suds out of his eyes and began to rub his hair dry.  Shaking his head violently like a dog, the boy blinked slowly as locks of damp slate hair found their usual place ensconcing his right eye.

Fingering away a few more unnecessary tears, the slatenette perched himself on the counter of the cramped bathroom's sink, digging a small bottle of gel out of the concealed cabinet.  He worked what he had squeezed out into his hair, causing the blue-gray fluff to go flat and stiffen, making clean, even sheets layered around and over his face.

His red, swollen, salty wet face.

Just the sight of himself in such a state made more of the saline liquid deposit into the corners of his sapphire eyes.  "D-dammit..." he whispered to his reflection.  "When did I become... so weak...?"

Biting down on his wounded lip, the boy jumped down to his feet once more and faced the reflective glass bitterly, rearing his arm back and hurling the small container of hair gel he held at it.  More tears joined the first on his chin and in the corners of his pouting mouth as he realized he had lost his temper, and a spiderweb began to form on the mirror, nestling the embedded bottle.

Sighing heavily, he threw on the baggy shirt and sweats he had set out for himself, leaving the bathroom's steamy atmosphere behind and instead set off for a small walk through his home's endless white corridors.

It was a Saturday, which meant that, in Castle Oblivion at least, everyone got a break from whatever chores they had been assigned.  Yet strangely, the halls remained eerily silent and baron.  The slatenette plopped down onto one of the small, colorless benches linking the boarder columns and buried his face into his hands, balls of his palms rubbing into his tenderly shut eyelids.

"Hello there, Zexion.  You've wandered quite the distance from your usual abode, haven't you?"

The slatenette's head jerked over to the figure looming over him, thankful that the intruder had approached him from his right side—He won't be able to see Zexion's reddened, tear-stained eyes.  "So've you.  It's unlike an upper level member to wander down into neutral territory.  What brings you here?" he countered before his hands found his hanging face once more.

Zexion could clearly hear the intruder's footsteps, but didn't put forth the effort to try to locate him until he felt to hands on his hips.  Rather than shouting, the boy simply allowed his breathing to hitch and his muscles to tense up.  "You've been crying again. . . haven't you?" he heard the other's icy voice whisper into his ear, just as his muscular arms finished looping around his waist, bringing the two closer.

"Sh-shut up...  No I haven't.  I mean, wh-what gave you that impression?" the caged slatenette stuttered, trying to keep from letting out a soft whine of defeat.  "You won't look at me.  Either I said something wrong last night, or you're crying."

Both males fell silent, though the quiet was occasionally broken by the boy's ragged breathing or the adult's soft sigh.  "Zexii..." he whispered, sitting down on the bench and dragging the slatenette onto his lap.  The change of position elicited a small whine from the boy's throat, but he instinctively removed his hands and pressed his face into his lover's neck.

"I-I'm so sorry, Marluxia..." he whispered beneath his breath, clinging onto the older desperately.

"Don't be, Zex.  I just wish I knew what to say to take your sorrows away...  I wish I knew what to do to prove how much I love you..." the older recited gently.

At one point in time, Zexion would of loved to hear those words like he did at night, just as his eyes drooped shut and his mind sank towards the caressing Rem cycle.  But right now, they simply stopped his breathing for a moment as more of his pointless tears pooled into the crook of Marluxia's neck.

"Once...  When I was a child, someone told me that you have to be able to love yourself, before you can prove that you can love others.  I-I...  I honestly don't get how anyone could love me..." he murmured shakily, reaching up weakly to squeeze the pinkette's hood in his fist.

"And I honestly don't see how you could hate yourself.  Some day. . .You, the other Nobodies. . . The world will see the beauty I see in you. . .Some day, Zexion," Marluxia replied after a moment's pause.

"I still think you're the most beautiful creature the world could ever offer. . ."

"And I, you."