This is some sort of an experiment, okay? Don't expect anything big. And I only support Xigbar/Luxord or Xigbar/Demyx, and since I will probably never write a fic with Xigbar and Demyx together, here it is.

Disclaimer : Kingdom Hearts belongs to Square Enix and Disney

Behind Blue Eyes

You know how, if you stare into a person's eyes long enough, you can this little sparkle of something that differs depending on the owner of the eyes?

It's pretty cool, actually.

Whenever you look into someone's eyes, there would always be the slightest ripple of something. No matter what the time is or who the person you're looking at, there will always be something in the eyes that reaches out and takes hold of you. It's like, it shows some part of the person you really are, the part that's uniquely you and can never be anyone else.

It's like that with everyone, Nobody or non-Nobody. The ones with no eyes are excluded, of course; can't expect a Sniper or a Dusk to show anything in their eyes when they don't have eyes, right? Everyone has a little something, even if that something has become more diminished after the change from heart to no heart.

Take Xemnas for example. Don't you find his eyes just a little bit creepy? I mean, I don't care what anyone says; his eyes so totally glow in the dark. And believe e, they really do. But creepy-yellow-eyes-that-I-insist-glows-in-the-dark or not, there is definitely a small touch of Xemnas in there, something that sets those specific set of yellow eyes apart from everyone else's. It's a different, weird and totally Xemnas thing.

Xaldin can go as another example. In that man's eyes, you can see something that's Xaldin and only Xaldin. And there's something in Vexen's eyes too. And Zexion's, Lexaeus's, Saix's, Demyx's, heck, there's something in everyone. Everyone's eyes have something that's 100 percent them and no one else.

Except for his.

It doesn't make any sense, really. Unless he's a completely mechanical robot-turned human–well, Nobody–or something, he's somehow able to do what the others can't. The only reason I say this is because his eyes are the only eyes in the whole entire world that don't have anything in it. Or rather, there is something in it but it's more like a shield then it is something personal.

And it annoys the hell out of me.

Which would explain why I've spent the last half an hour or so floating in one spot near the ceiling of the kitchen and trying my best not to fall asleep–because falling asleep would mean losing focus and a 30-feet drop to meet the floor does not sound particularly exciting at the moment–while waiting for the stupid man and his stupid guarded blue eyes to wake up and come down for his fucking breakfast.

I mean, come on, dude! It's probably, what, 8 o'clock already and he's an early riser and he should be out of bed by now. I stretch my arms and legs which have gone stiff from sitting in the same position for so long. Really, the one day I decide to get up early enough to come down before him is the day he decides to sleep in. Just my luck. Or his. Whatever.

Feeling another yawn coming, I curl my legs in again and work on keeping my eyelids from drooping even lower than they already are. If the man didn't get his sorry butt down here soon, I am going to go his room and wake him up myself. The best way to go in would be to kick open his door, since the noise it would make would probably be more than enough to wake him up. And if that doesn't work I'll steal his blankets and let him freeze in his sleep. And if that doesn't work, I'll pour a bucket of water on him.

A few more minutes tick by and I've just about decided to personally give him the wakeup call when footsteps make their way to the kitchen. It's about time, too. Feeling my face break into a grin, I settle into what I hope is a more comfortable position and wait, eyes on the entrance.

He moves towards the cupboards first and I watch, trying to breathe as softly as humanely possible while still getting enough oxygen. A moment passes and he's sitting at the table with a mug–of coffee, probably, the caffeine addict–in his hands. From where I'm sitting, I can just make out his face and am quite pleased to announce that dearest Number X still has a slightly sleepy look on.

Which is perfect. The less on guard he is, the higher my chances of getting good results are. With him still oblivious to my presence and the element of surprise being quite apparently on my side, there is no way this experiment is not going to work.

Now the question is; when would be the best time to initiate it? It has to be done with the exact right timing; with the amount of luck the man had, even the smallest slip-up could turn everything into being in his favor. And I can't have that happening, now can I? After all the effort I've put into this, I'm not going to let anything get in my way. This was going to work out or damn him if it doesn't.

Besides, four and a half hours is a lot of sleep, you know. And these days, I'll take all the sleep I can get.

So I wait for him to finish his coffee, get up and walk over to sink, where he proceeds to easily take his time washing said used mug before setting aside. After that, he starts for the kitchen entrance–or exit, in this case–and I wait without breathing and risk him noticing me. Only when he's almost directly underneath me do I let go of the spell, which was the only thing keeping me where I was in the air.

It feels really good watching his face when he falls on his back onto the floor.

And just like that, I can safely tell you, theory proven: surprise works in bringing out even the most hidden things in one's eyes.

For a moment, there's only silence between us; his is probably stunned, judging from the expression on his face, and I'm too busy enjoying looking into what was behind those eyes all along.

He blinks a couple more times before finally saying, "What are you doing?"

To which I can't stop myself from grinning even more. "Well, currently, dude, I'm almost, not quite, mind you, just almost, sitting on top of you."

Then his expression turns into a slight frown. "Yes, I can see that. What I meant was why did you fall on me?"

"Why, for entertainment, of course. Why else? Oh, and by the way," I add, "thanks for cushioning my fall."

"Most people would not consider colliding into other people a very pleasant form of entertainment," he points out, shifting his elbows to prop himself up better, since I'm still on top of him and he can only sit up halfway. "What are you doing up so early? You're usually not awake until noon."

"Some things are worth waking up early for," I tell him, making no move to get off him. "Though I have to say, you certainly took your own sweet time before coming down."

One eyebrow goes up and more surprise taints his eyes. "You were waiting for me?"

"Yup. Next time, try to get up a little earlier, 'kay? I know I bend gravity a whole lot but even I have a limit to how long I can hold it in place."

"Really?" he says. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind next time. On the other hand, I'm still curious as to why you were hanging up there to begin with. Something urgent, perhaps?" The frown is gone now, replaced with an amused expression, but his eyes have gone back to their old tricks again and I can't see anything anymore.

I don't bother giving a response, thinking more about what to do next than answering. After I'm silent for a long time, he tilts his head slightly to the left and says, "Xigbar? Are you still here with us?" When I still don't say anything he gives out a sigh. "As you like, then. I'll leave you to your daydreaming."

Then, as he lifts one hand to push me off and I still can't think of anything, I pick the one option available, grab a fistful of his jacket, put my other hand on the floor behind him for support, and kiss him.

My reward is watching the way his expression turns to shock for the second time today and the second chance at viewing the hidden part of his eyes.

The sudden movement caused him to hurriedly return his lifted hand back to its former position to balance himself, and he doesn't do anything else for a long time. Finally, he gives me a hard shove–which, although breaks the contact does not succeed in pushing me off, thanks to the grip I have on his clothes–and says, "What do you think you're doing?"

I have to say, for something so spontaneous, this was going quite well. "Pretty much the same thing I was doing just now, I think."

"First you knock me to the floor for no apparent reason other than you own entertainment. Then, you kiss me?" he asks, eyes narrowing slightly. "For entertainment, too, I assume?"

"Well, now that you've gone and put it that way, it sounds kind of stupid, right? Can't you come up with a better way to phrase it?"

"I want an explanation," he demands.

"What kind of explanation?" I ask in return, feigning ignorance just for the fun of it.

"Something that would explain your behavior would do quite well."

Then I grin again, guessing his reaction to my answer already. "Your eyes."

Blink. "My eyes?"

"Yup."

"You…kissed me because of my eyes?" he asks, sounding incredulous.

"Well, to be more specific, because your eyes are different."

Another blink. "You kissed me because my eyes are different?" he repeats.

"Bingo! Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner."

"What do you mean by different?"

"What do you mean by what do I mean by different?"

He thinks about that for a moment. "Xaldin's eyes are blue."

"So they are."

"What do you mean by my eyes are different?" he repeats.

"Do you really expect an honest answer to that? This is Xigbar you're talking to, dude," I reply, never taking my eyes off his.

"Surely you can provide a better explanation for your actions. 'Because my eyes are different' hardly counts as a proper answer."

"Of course it does. It's an answer, isn't it?"

He pauses again before saying, this time sounding more disbelieving than before, "Is that why you're up so early? And why you dropped on me?" And finally, "Did you plan all of this?"

"You could say that." Well, it's half of a truth, right?

"Why would you do something like that?"

Instead of answering, I lean forward and catch his mouth in another kiss. This time he lets me, and I find myself staring into his eyes and thinking 'what an odd shade of blue they are.' There's more time to study his eyes from up close now, and I can see almost every detail of his blue irises. I end up getting so caught up in it that I barely notice when he breaks the kiss again, pushing me back.

It's only when I see him quickly sucking in breath do I realize the lack of oxygen in my own lungs. For a while, the only thing the both of us do is breathe, trying to bring our heart rate–this term being used loosely–back to normal. Then he breaks the silence first by saying, "I don't suppose you're going to explain yourself now either?"

Grinning, I take a couple more gulps of air before replying. "You suppose right."

"I still don't understand what you meant by your comment about my eyes earlier," he tells me.

"That's okay," I say. "You don't have to understand. All you have to do is admit you'd like to do this again sometimes soon."

He smiles at me then and I feel another wave of victory at such a successful experiment. Maybe tonight I should drop by his room and pounce on him once he's in bed, just to see his reaction. It'll probably be just as good as right now, or maybe, even better.

Then he gives me a hard shove that sends me to the floor, gets up, and leaves the kitchen without a backward glance.

Fin

So? Was it any good at all? Did I fail miserably? Or does this count as good enough for first attempt at romance?

Well, whichever it is, let me know. Or don't. It's up to you. Many thanks to all who read this.