0 – The Fool – Space
It is the nature of things that space desires to be filled.

He stands on the cliff top and presses the water a little harder to erode around the base, wishing the damned thing would simply crumble and vanish, falling into the sea and letting the water drag him down. He closes his eyes and thinks about taking that final step off the edge, no care for where he goes, and then steps backwards, before opening his eyes. The body he has bumped into is small, slight, slender, and he smiles before he can stop himself.
"I've told you about that."
"I know." Demyx smoothes the smile out into a neutral expression before he turns to face Zexion, the reflection of the waves still holding on in his eyes. He can't smile with his mouth, that much is forbidden him, but even the illusionist can not cloak the smile that bubbles up in his eyes.

"You've been working your magic again." The blond says, eyes sparkling with delight at the clones behind his lover, and vaguely summons a few water clones to mirror their standing. Zexion's illusions remain standing firm, but the water clones have no such compulsion, and go to their counterparts, each column of water draped over a clone, and every single one smiling.
"I've said –"
"And the day my magic does what you want is the day Xemnas shows up in my bed, covered in tar and feathers, and wearing a kitty collar," the blond says, sharply, then softens the sting with a kiss echoed by the doubles surrounding them, "I don't make them smile any more than you make yours copy that constipated expression you so favour."

There's an embarrassed pause.
"How long –"
"It took six months for them to even have faces."
Demyx smothers a laugh, watching Zexion's face go from angry to indulgent,
and knows that, for now, it's okay to smile.
"So…."
Demyx turns his head from where it's cradled on Zexion's shoulder, moving his mouth away from that creamy expanse of neck to raise an eyebrow.
"Don't you ever think they're wrong?"
The blond shakes his head, no, and says nothing more.
"But it must be – we can't… you can't…."
There is no answer but Demyx burying his head in closer, nipping at the column of Zexion's throat and doing everything in his power to stop his lover speaking further.
"I said –"
"And I distinctly remember saying that I wasn't going to have this discussion with you again."

There's a crash which makes Zexion jump, and he turns to see his own illusions alone, the only thing left of the water clones a dark splash on the grass, already drying out in the sun. He turns back, and watches Demyx's back move away, another crash following as the waves strike the cliff, hard. The blond takes out a cloth, tying it around his face as he walks towards the cliff edge, and everything drops into slow motion, but Zexion still can't get there fast enough, can't get his clones to move fast enough to grab Demyx before he steps out into thin air.
And walks.

When Zexion gets to the edge, he sees the column of water supporting his blindfolded lover, sees how secure Demyx's footing is, how safe and serene and comfortable he looks, perched atop a wave. He looks fey, pixie-like, and like all of the little folk, he has played a great trick. Zexion doesn't know whether it's happiness, relief, or a little of both, but he throws his head back, and for the first time since he became a Nobody, perhaps for the first time ever, everyone knows his childhood wasn't exactly happy, he laughs. He laughs, and laughs, until he lies prone on the grass, tears pouring down his cheeks, and looks up to meet Demyx's eyes, rich with an emotion that shouldn't be there, no longer feeling empty.

For the first time, Zexion understands what it is to be alive.