Disclamer: I do not own the characters or anything in this that is Kingdom Hearts related. I DO own the storyline and a few OC characters that may have snuck in here.

Pairings: Akuroku, maybe some side pairings but I'm not sure yet.

Summary: In the hormone-driven frenzy of youth, Axel finds himself unable to cope with the consequences of his past.

Warnings: Rated M for a reason - a mess of alcohol use, sex, and profanity. Some dark, angsty shit here.

This chapter is short and mostly just cryptic as hell, but bear with me, it'll get better.


Chapter 1: Nostalgia

The lights dimmed, the soft hum of the pale fluorescents tracing her skin melting away, darkness creeping over each feature and form. Her lips curved into a lithe smile just before the shadows overwhelmed my vision and left all my other senses on high alert. Her breath ghosted against my neck, the odor thick with the tang of cheap blackberry brandy and cheaper vodka. Her body was warm and heavy against me, each curve and contour molding to mine. My head spun and my eyes eased shut as her tongue ran a path up my neck and my hands found the soft, nostalgic dip in her back.

"Will you remember me?" her voice hung in the air, heavy and dismal despite the smile I could feel against my throat.

I hope not.


Sometimes, in the early morning when the pounding in my head and the shakes in my hands wakes me up before I'd normally care to, I find that time can really stop. It's a peculiar experience, when your eyes are stuck on the stained, pale yellow of a dorm wall and you're not even sure if it's yours anymore. You know that the knick-knacks and stacks of books on the glazed, wooden desk are yours, but there's a disconnect you find in your every day surroundings that makes you almost apathetic. It could be the hangover, it could be those pills you keep forgetting to take, it could be the flashbacks that plague the once safe haven of sleep, or maybe it's just too many late nights that broke into early mornings. Nothing really feels familiar anymore besides that memory of an arched back and soft skin and cheap liquor. The past suddenly feels more like present and you find that empty cage some call a chest rattling. The sun leaking past the windows reminds you more of locks of hair you used to knot your fingers through and the distant resonance of birds chirping sounds more like a laugh you used to catch. It becomes so hard to breathe just remembering the smell of daffodils and chamomile tea you want to fill your lungs up with the closest inhalant you can find just to subdue the memory.

When time seems to start back up, it's usually caused by a familiar shake in the bed springs or the shifting of sheets either from above you or beside you.

I couldn't really say which it was this particular morning until the familiar grumble sounded from the bed above me followed by a string of fatigued and muffled profanities. Deciding to check, I felt beside me to find the space void of a random, nameless body. I let out a breath – of frustration or relief I'm not sure – before heaving myself up off of the creaking, uncomfortable mattress and stumbling around the small dorm to find my sandals and cigarettes. The shaking in my hands refused to cease as they fumbled through a mass of clothes on the floor, finally grasping the light box and lighter and lifting them out. Not even bothering to cover my upper body with a shirt, I walked out of the dorm, leaving my bunkmate to grumble to himself about something involving castrating the creator of morning classes and alcoholic roommates.

My long legs carried me down the hallway covered with doors with names scribbled on whiteboards and even more penises scrawled around them. I found the correct door to the roof almost by muscle memory, lightly jogging up the steps in desperation. I was pulling out a cigarette when I opened the outside door and brought it to my lips the second the sharp click behind me sounded. I attempted to steady my hands enough to work the lighter, but my impatience wasn't helping and it took me several frustrating minutes before the tobacco laced carcinogen was lit and I was able to let out a relieved, smoke-filled breath. I looked around the roof, noticing a few other students that were leaning against the fence that coiled around the edge of the roof, also smoking and looking just as hungover as I was. I nodded to a few familiar faces before taking my respective corner of the fence. I sunk down, leaning my back against the criss-crossing metal and let my long legs sprawl out ahead of me. A particularly cold rush of air hit me from the side and I found myself shivering.

I saw the door open again, revealing a familiar, unnatural head of long, silver hair, the individual still grumbling to himself as he stalked towards me. I think it had something to do with vomit stains and kitten litter now, but I wasn't entirely able to pick up on his early morning language yet. He plopped down next to me, snatching the box and lighter from me. I was going to protest – considering my recent bank statement and the price of cigarettes rising – but was halted by the familiar glare he sent me that wordlessly stated "You owe me." What I owed him, I wasn't sure, but most Monday mornings I owed him something and he usually settled with a cigarette.

I let out a sigh, ran my fingers through the crimson spikes that clung to my skull, and looked away as he pulled out a stick, placed it between his lips and lit it before throwing both back in my lap.

"What did I do this time?" I asked after a few moments of us both silently nursing our separate cigarettes.

"Same old, really," he said, though a bit more relaxed, his tone carried a harsh lashing I couldn't help but wince a bit from. "Vomited on my favorite shirt, and then spent the night with your face in the toilet before finally passing out on the bathroom floor at about 4am. I carried you into your bed and you're fucking heavy for someone so skinny, man."

"So you've told me," I sighed, watching with mild disinterest at the cloud of smoke pouring from my lips. "Riku, I'm so-"

"Don't do that, Axel, we've been over this."

After our first year as roommates – and I had developed a particularly close, weekend relationship with the bottle and our toilet seat – he had told me the apologies got old. It might not be every morning I have something to apologize for, but he said it had started to sound hollow, even the one time that the drunken haze had left my eyes in the form of tears and the retching noises were accompanied by choked sobs. But neither one of us really wanted to think about that night ever again.

The three syllables had become a knee-jerk reaction for me, however, and he had to remind me that it fell on deaf ears far too often for either of our comfort. Needless to say, the rest of our morning smoking session passed by in silence besides the occasional cough or when the whisper of a conversation made its way across the roof. Once we'd both finished, we returned to our dorm room, attempting to keep a sense of normalcy for both of our sanities.


The stars poked through the dark sheet in varying intensities, leaving the field in a soft, cool glow. The moon hung peacefully in the corner of the sky, full and boasting with reflective light. The fingers laced with mine gave a gentle squeeze as I blew a cloud of smoke into the clear air above me. The grass beneath me was beginning to warm under the combined body heat and my clothes were growing damp from the dew that had coated the foliage prior to our disturbance.

"What are you thinking about?" a soft voice leaked into my senses, the consonants sharp and the vowels breathy. I felt her gaze on my face but I didn't return it, couldn't find it in me to meet the familiar deep blue that drowned me in emotions I didn't have names for anymore.

"Nothing."

"It must be something."

"It isn't."

"Why won't you look at me?"

Because I don't love you anymore.


The last suffocating grasp of summer was hanging in the air, a desperate, heavy texture filling my lungs. The early morning had quickly drifted into the early afternoon and the sun blazed overhead, the pavement simmering beneath my shoes. To keep back my blatant annoyance, I had to remind myself that October was fast approaching and so were the last of frizzy hair days and awkward sweat-stains. My shirt clung to my skin, becoming increasingly uncomfortable as I hastily made my way to the air conditioned haven that was my sociology class. My fingers curled around the metallic handle, jerking the door open to be greeted with the artificial, cool air. A contented sigh built in my chest as I closed the door behind me and found my seat near the back of the lecture hall. I placed my notebook and a pen on the excuse for a desk attached to my chair before sitting and stuffing my bag beneath my seat. My eyes darted to the clock on the far wall and I realized with a slight shock that I was early. On a Monday. With a headache and shaking hands.

Considering my relationship with alcohol and the weekend, it was a rarity that I made it to my Monday class on time, even if it began at 12:15. The stares that followed me as I had entered the room verified my fellow classmate's shared surprise. I let out the sigh I had been unknowingly holding in my chest and flipped open to a clean notebook page, my pen spinning between two of my fingers.

"Is somebody sitting here?" a voice sounded next to me, the sound clear and soft. I looked over, keeping my face composed as a sudden stirring in my stomach began once my gaze found the body beside me. His hand was gripping the back of the chair to the right of me, a shy, curious look dashing across his cerulean eyes. The nauseous feeling in my stomach rose, keeping the image of a similar pair of eyes from popping into my head. My silence dragged on as I attempted to open my mouth, my gaze not leaving his. When I noticed the tension rising in the air between us, I fought back the creeping sense of nostalgia and gave my head a slight shake.

"No, it's yours," I replied, allowing the confidence to build into my chest again, my stomach acids settling. He sent me a soft smile that hit me point blank in the sternum and I felt my breathing halt for a moment. My gaze stayed attached to his soft features and giant blue eyes that had shifted towards the seat, trying to sort out the strange feelings roaring up inside of me.

"Thanks." He slipped around the chair before settling in the seat, a notebook landing on the small surface in front of him. The smile faded from his features as quickly as it appeared and I found myself missing it.

It's just because he looks like her.

"Do I know you?" The words left my mouth before I could decipher the aching that had begun beneath my ribs. His eyes returned to mine.

"Uh... I don't think so," he said, his eyes wide and bright with curiosity and surprise, his features cautious. A smirk pulled at the corners of his soft, pink lips, drawing my gaze momentarily away from his eyes. "I think I'd remember that hair." My eyes found one of the - according to the box - "Luscious Raspberry" strands that had spilled passed my neck. I grabbed it with a sly smile before flipping it over my shoulder to join the rest of the hair-product-smothered spikes.

"Yeah, this mess is pretty unforgettable." His smirk softened a bit and he let out a breathy laugh. "I haven't seen you in this class before, though" He nodded once, leaning back in his chair a bit, his pen tapping on a blank notebook page in front of him.

"I just switched my schedule around a little," he said. "They messed up a few of my classes originally." I nodded in response, my eyes finding my own blank notebook page.

"Well, welcome to Sociology 102. I'm Axel, by the way," I said, reaching a hand out over the edge of the excuse for a desk. He grasped my hand cautiously, another friendly smile curling at his lips.

"I'm Roxas. Nice to meet you, Axel." Something about the way he said my name, and the way the golden spikes shifted across his forehead, made my fingers suddenly reluctant to loosen around the boy's hand. He pulled his hand away gently, my fingers ghosting through the air to return to my side.

It's just because he looks like her.

My lips parted a bit, my thoughts trying to focus on a topic, anything to keep the attention of Roxas towards me, but the door bursting open and our professor announcing his presence cut off my train of thought. We both turned to the front of the lecture hall and I was left to address the welling in my chest and the cold, artificial air around me suddenly feeling heavier.

It's just because he looks like her.


Leave some reviews if you liked it or what I can improve on. I'm not sure about this one, I'll be honest. I've been out of the writing loop for years, only doing little drabbles here and there. But the urge to write this has been on my mind for a while so I had to at least try to put it up and see what people thought.