Lost and Found
By DXMJUNKIE
I.
Nothing good ever happened in life, nothing even remotely kind, that's what Roxas always thought.
His parents and brother died when he was only ten. They'd gone out for a car ride while he was sick at home and from then on he'd been perpetually alone. He sometimes thought about his life before that day occurred; of an unsettling happiness. But most of the time it made him sick to reminisce about and he honestly wondered if that was something he'd dreamt up. If his imagination was compensating for what could have never been real to begin with.
Carted between one foster home and another was never a comfort. Some of the people didn't even bother to learn his name. His clothes would be shoved inside a black garbage bag as if he was some sort of trash to be taken out as he'd was shuffled across the state.
Several people were kind and tried to be understanding but others only did it for the money. It was always easy to tell which was which, and the list he'd kept of all the homes he'd been in grew longer and longer on the bottom of his shoe.
At first coping meant silence. That was probably the largest reason so many of the other foster kids were disgusted with him. He refused to talk with them, refused to play, didn't feel like interacting. This lasted until he was nearly fifteen, until the social worker literally thought he was mute. For the blond there simply wasn't any incentive to speak aloud. Why bother wasting his thoughts on people who didn't care either way?
One of the foster fathers tried to molest him, though, and that's when he finally opened his mouth. What startled him was that they adamantly refused to believe him, they wondered why he would lie about something so heinous. Nonetheless, Roxas opened his mouth and pleaded with them to be sent to another place. But by this point the foster system didn't have any other place for him.
He was like an abandoned puppy who wasn't even worth finding a cardboard box for.
So he was driven to McKalmont, which was a state funded foster center in the city. With her lips pursed the social worker showed him the cot and communal bedroom that would serve as his home. Her sneer almost told him aloud that this was little more than he deserved.
He was beaten up within the first twenty-four hours and tortured constantly by the older kids. They played sick pranks such as shaving his head, slashing his arms with razor blades before informing security he was trying to kill himself. They cut his clothes to shreds and threw his shoes into a trash fire. It came to the point that even the pleasant nurse thought he'd brought this upon himself. He must have done something to these kids to make them hate him. Roxas felt like it was because he refused to let them know how much their actions hurt him emotionally that they continued with such aggression.
If Roxas didn't wake up black and blue during those days it was a miracle.
But he never told anyone about his treatment and refused to whine when he was battered. Speaking was just a weakness he told himself. The last time he'd spoken about his problems they hadn't believed him. So why should he start now. He knew where his place was in the world, his status.
By the time he was sixteen he implicitly understood that he was trash. He used to never believe it, but it was now a certainty for him. Sickly comforting in its assurance.
Nothing good ever happened, and no one in the world loved him.
II.
During one night when he was sixteen he decided to run away from the stupid center. The facility offered him little, even the shelter and food was enough to sacrifice in comparison to the physical abuse he endured.
He didn't have much to bring with him. What little he brought to that hellhole had been pretty much destroyed. So he stole a battered backpack from another kid, filled it with his possessions, and waited in a crouch outside next to the barbed wire gate.
When a social worker drove through the gate it opened just long enough for him to speed through it. He didn't have money but somehow the action of fleeing created a pure elation inside of him. He took off through the streets, darting through allies without knowing or caring where he was headed. They lived in a warmer part of the country so he wouldn't worry about sleeping outside.
When the adrenaline wore off he plopped on a street bench that overlooked the river. He had no sense of direction and barely knew the city. Foster kids didn't have many opportunities to get out on their own and he only knew the route to and from his school. School was another comforting thing to be skipped. At school the students knew which people were foster and they treated them accordingly. With a malevolent superiority.
Teachers tried to be sympathetic to other fosters, but since he never spoke a word they acted towards him with a sort of nonchalance. Roxas brought his feet up on the bench to wrap his arms around his knees. It was a little chilly on that summer night and he began to rethink his actions.
Should he have left?
But he knew that he could never go back. Because if he did the treatment would only get worse. The older boys would taunt him about running away and call him a coward. He'd be punished by security for escaping and if anything life would be even more unbearable.
Listening to the crickets chirping let his mind finally go blank. It was like a meditation where he refused to think about anything at all. A shiver rolled down his spine eventually; a random realization that this must be how a freed slave felt.
He had many obstacles ahead of him. Where he would sleep, how he would get money; stuff like that. But Roxas was a clever kid, he knew that the public library would be open for his use and he could utilize the internet to see how other runaways did it. He couldn't be the only one from the foster world to have resorted to this. There had to be others and maybe he could find them and squat with them and live with them. Perhaps, just perhaps, he could find friends doing so.
He wondered what having a friend was like. He'd never really had one since before the death of his family. And that era wasn't real or concrete in his mind, and it wasn't realistic. Those inimitable memories weren't obtainable anymore; not for someone like him. Roxas got to his feet and slung his backpack on before starting to walk along the river. He tried to imagine the best kind of place for him to sleep in. Not an alley, that would be dangerous. It would have to be secluded.
He had enough food to last him a few days. He'd filched a few things from the kitchen during his speedy exit. There were public fountains for drinks and even if it was filthy the river had water too. One by one he was trying to formulate his plan. He was trying to be smart about this and deal with the eventual repercussions. As he walked over a highway he saw a person lounging on the side of the overpass. That person was swaying back and forth, as if ill.
III.
"I'm sho luckiiii~!" The man slurred, "I didn't kno'f anybod'y 'ould helllllp."
Roxas spooned his arm around the guy and was leading him home slowly but surely. The man saw him walking past and pathetically begged him to help. He was obviously intoxicated, so much so that he probably couldn't see straight. Roxas pursed his lips and remained silent as he adjusted his grip on the slender body.
The guy was dressed casually with hemp necklaces and a mohawk atop his head. He also had a mullet in the back, which struck the blond as odd. But the man was friendly and needed assistance. Roxas had always been a good samaritan. Maybe it was because he'd always wanted help himself that he reached out to others whenever possible.
He soon learned that the man's name was Demyx and he lived about fourteen blocks away. To any other stranger that would be exasperating and they probably would have left the poor guy. But Roxas had nothing to do with his night and enjoyed Demyx's attempts at singing. As inebriated as the man was he had a beautiful voice.
He began belting out songs that Roxas knew from the radio. They were always happy songs about strength and love or acceptance.
His steps were hard to match and he often stumbled. Roxas simply held on tighter and slung Demyx's arm over his shoulder and continued onward with the hard-to-follow directions. The blond didn't own a watch so he could tell how much time it took, but after what felt like forever Demyx told him they were close.
The other thing he immediately liked about the man was that he didn't question Roxas' silence. He simply rambled on incoherently about this and that. Sometimes he started telling random stories about his friends or family only to cut off and begin singing again. Roxas found this amusing and didn't mind the tangents. He liked to listen because he felt like the man had something positive to say about anything and everything.
"A'nd thersh my buddy, Ax, and he's like all- whoa maaaaan you gotta stop drinkin' but it's'all like afta the show you just'a wanna have a buuuuur." Demyx explained, almost seriously.
Roxas finally smiled and nodded, which Demyx noticed and continued enthusiastically.
"I'm'all like, dude, for seriously. You'za just as'a bad as me with the boozekie!" The man giggled at his own joke before pointing, "AHA!"
Roxas followed his finger to a tidy apartment complex. They were on a nicer part of town where there wasn't much litter and nobody walking the sidewalks. It was quiet and calm around them. Roxas wondered if after he dropped Demyx off he should find a place around here to sleep for the night. He'd have to hid his backpack of course, with his food, because if he lost that he would be utterly out of luck. He'd be forced to return to the foster home- he'd have no choice.
Demyx fell against the wall of one particular building and was fumbling his hands into his pockets. He immediately dropped his keys to the ground and Roxas picked them up. There were only two keys attached, one of which was clearly a car key so he shoved the golden one into the lock and twisted. The door opened immediately. Demyx cheered as Roxas regained his hold on the man, leading him up the stairs to where he was frantically directing. Roxas would be sorry to see the enthusiastic man go.
IV.
The door swung open when Roxas politely knocked. It didn't appear that Demyx had a house key so it was his only choice. A man was on the other side, a man with hair the color of a fire engine. The lanky guy had crystal clear green eyes that looked momentarily confused until he noticed the mohawk resting on his shoulder.
"Dem!" The guy cried, obviously startled. He reached forward and pulled at Demyx by the waist. He practically lifted the singer into air and brought him into the apartment. Roxas took this as his cue to leave and turned to make his swift exit.
"Hold on!" The redhead said over his shoulder, "Come in,"
Roxas blinked and hesitated, but finally complied. The door shut behind him and as Demyx was shoved onto the couch he glanced around the room capriciously. It was a loft apartment with brick walls. There were random things strewn across the table but managed to appear tidy.
The redhead came forward and chuckled at him, also oddly friendly, "So sorry about that! Dem probably got drunk at the bar and forced you to take him home, didn't he."
Roxas shook his head in negation. The man seemed to be waiting for an explanation but Roxas quietly peered down at his feet.
"Thank you," the guy said, pushing his hand in front of the blond to shake. "My name is Axel, I'm his roommate."
Axel obviously expected Roxas to respond as he shook his hand but he remained stoically silent. Axel peered down at him, his expression open and obviously confused.
"Akshullll~ da kid don't tawk." Demyx explained from behind the couch, his voice muffled from some sort of fabric that covered him.
Axel let out an easy noncommittal smile, "I see. Well, are you thirsty? You want something to drink before you head home?"
Home. The words tugged on Roxas's heart and he almost felt the need to flee the apartment. But he was thirsty, especially after the physical exertion it took to bring Demyx back. He nodded, finally managing to meet the redhead's gaze. Axel was still smiling as he headed to a refrigerator tucked away in the corner.
"We have milk, tea, pop. Which one?"
Roxas held his two fingers up in the air awkwardly. Axel immediately grabbed a bottle of green tea from a small compartment, handing it over to him. Roxas opened the cap awkwardly and took several deep drinks. The liquid cooled his throat, he felt his shoulders relax.
"Again, thank you. I know how difficult a drunk Dem can be." Axel remarked casually.
Roxas finally gave him a timid smiled and shook his head in negation, as if to say, 'No problem.'
"Do you need a ride back home? It's super late," Axel pointed out.
Blue eyes widened in apprehension, something Axel took immediate notice of. He again shook his head in negation, this time more rapidly. Axel seemed to take in his shabby appearance, noting the bruises on his face before frowning to himself. This action make Roxas flush with embarrassment and shame. He probably looked no better than trailer trash scum. Which was shocking close to who he actually was: foster runaway scum. Roxas nodded his thanks for the tea and turned quickly away towards the door.
He shut it quickly and jogged down the stairs. Roxas was about to head outside when he noticed there was an open basement just around the corner. Thinking against leaving the locked building he tentatively headed down the stairs. The lights were off and it appeared to be a laundry room. There was an old comforter and mismatched clothes on the floor.
'Perfect,' Roxas thought to himself before he sat and made his home for the evening. Glancing down at the half-consumed bottle of tea he smiled to himself. Some people were kind in this world; even if it was just a gesture of gratitude.
V.
Axel was baffled when the kid bailed. The blond was visually nervous at his polite offer, and Axel couldn't help but wonder why. The kid had obviously gone through hell. His face was different shades of purple, his hair strangely cut, and his clothes ratty but well-worn and oddly clean.
Demyx was snoozing behind him. Axel decided to leave him there to sleep off the beer; better than dragging him half-conscious over into his bedroom.
Axel began puttering around his kitchen while making muffins for the girls at work. He hummed, his mind still caught on the strange kid who'd brought Demyx home. It struck him as odd; Dem usually drank on the other side of town at the bar where his band played. With as drunk as his musician roommate was, that meant he probably didn't get very far before the kid found him. Knowing Demyx, he'd probably pathetically pleaded for help, which would make anyone feel obligated. But that didn't explain it either. That blond would have had to literally haul Dem almost fifteen blocks.
What kind of person would go out of their way like that? So weird.
Axel set the timer for his muffins after putting them in the oven. He was still wide-awake so he figured he might as well get some other stuff done. After he washed the dishes in the sink and gave the countertop a rub down, he idly decided to wash his clothes.
His laundry had been piling up for several days, and even if he could do it tomorrow because it was his day off, it was easier to do it now when nobody was using the washing machines. Glancing at the clock it was already well past midnight. The laundry room would be empty. He gathered his clothes, snagged his keys, and meandered down the stairs to the basement.
Flipping the light on when he arrived he was about to plop his laundry bin down but froze. A pair of startled blue eyes were staring up at him from the corner. The boy had an old comforter wrapped around him, it looked like he was going to sleep there for the night. The bottle of tea he'd given him was propped on the floor. Axel's jaw nearly dropped, but he held himself back.
"Hey," he stated cautiously.
The kid was already darting up and making for a quick getaway. Unfortunately for him the only door out was the one Axel was standing in front of. Axel blocked his exit and held his hands out as if to halt him. This made the blond panic, his eyes were darting around for another escape. He looked so frightened that Axel felt bad.
"Calm down, calm down!" Axel told him, panicking slightly in his own respect.
This skittish boy clutched his backpack tight, backing away slowly. Axel paused and tried to absorb this visual information and the kid's demeanor.
"I'm not gonna tell anyone you're here." Axel felt obligated to say. "You're not in trouble."
The boy wasn't relaxing however, he was biting his lip almost raw. Axel felt his eyebrows furrow on his forehead.
"Why are you sleeping down here?" He asked quietly.
Blue eyes darted away from his face, almost ashamed and distraught. That's when something clicked in the redhead's mind and he felt almost empathetic for this boy who looked so lost and scared.
"Are you a runaway?" He queried in an equally quiet tone.
The boy paused but didn't move.
"Your family must be worried," Axel assumed, finally dropping his laundry basket on the floor and crossing his arms.
The boy looked crestfallen at his words but still didn't move at all. He began to fidget with the strap of his bag. The look that flashed across his eyes made Axel somehow understand that nonverbal communication.
"You don't have a family, do you." This time it wasn't a question.
The blond stiffened before finally shaking his head in a slow negation. Axel felt a huff of air leave him. He glanced around before sighing aloud.
"Well, c'mon then," Axel told him, motioning upstairs.
This only frightened the kid more and he started trembling and backing up.
"No, I'm not going to call the cops." Axel informed him quickly. The blond looked spooked. His mouth opened as if in an unspoken question.
"C'mon, you'll stay with us tonight. Dem won't mind, and I'm sure as hell not gonna let you sleep on the floor with that ratty comforter left by the creepy lady in 2B." Axel stated. There was no room for argument in his tone.
Axel picked up his laundry with one arm before grabbing the kids wrist and hauling him back up the boy fidgeted, and almost tried to escape, but Axel held him firm in a vice-grip.
VI.
Roxas nearly peed himself when the redhead from earlier turned on the light. Roxas had been just getting comfortable and ready to doze off in the smelly comforter when he'd heard the footsteps down the stair. There was nowhere to hide. He'd been so sure he wouldn't be caught, especially at the late hour. He wanted to push past the man, and just flee into the streets, but Axel was literally covering the door with his tall stance.
Now he was back in the apartment from earlier. Demyx was snoring from the sofa. Axel paced the apartment after locking the door behind him, grabbing random blankets and what appeared to be a circular futon. Roxas wondered if he should just run while the guy was occupied. He didn't know what this man might do. Would he hurt him?
"Here, it's as much bedding as we have but it's better than nothing." Axel spoke as he was walking around.
Roxas felt himself swallow in apprehension, why was this guy acting like this? Why was he helping a dirty person like him? Roxas desperately wanted to ask. So much so that he felt himself clearing his throat and speaking his first words in nearly a year.
"Why...?" His voice was soft but felt harsh from disuse.
This seemed to gain Axel's attention immediately. The man smiled softly down at him before stepping over to stand in front of him. He looked calm, still friendly. It was an odd expression aimed at Roxas.
"I seriously couldn't leave you down there." Axel told him, his smile turning into an amused smirk. Roxas didn't understand the words. Why hadn't he questioned the him about his sudden vocalism? Why would he feel that way, what compelled him? Axel let his hands brush through thick red tresses as if thinking on something adequate to say.
"Look-" Axel fumbled in front of him, it appeared out-of-character, "I'm not gonna hurt you."
Axel let his eyes meet blue and Roxas understood he was serious. This man was not a threat, that was clear to him now.
"It's just-" Axel again faltered, "I can't nothelp you. Not when you look so... devastatingly sad. So alone."
Roxas was floored. He hadn't expected such a statement. The man had spoken like he was equally hurt. But how could this man he'd just met see he was in pain when it had never mattered before? He pursed his lips and gave a doubtful frown.
"Kid, you look like you just had the world beat on you. And I can't just let that stand, not when you were ready to sleep in a basement like that. You-" the redhead almost sounded commanding, "Sleep here. And don't panic and run first thing in the morning. I'll make you breakfast, I'm a good cook. If your homeless, stay until you get on your feet again."
Roxas shook his head as his eyes glazed over in tears and he despondently whispered, "You don't have to,"
"No, I don't." Axel affirmed. The timer went off over the oven and Axel went to pull something out. A sweet smell filled the room. "But I'm going to anyway."
Axel turned again, "What's your name?"
"..." Roxas wasn't sure if he should tell him. He didn't know if he should trust this guy. Trust was an unknown concept for him. But Roxas let himself look back over at this man who seemed to be waiting patiently. That expression, the way he held himself; Roxas would believe him, he would trust him if only for this night.
"Roxas." He finally spoke with a soft downtrodden smile, it looked almost tragic on his beaten face.
"I'm Roxas."
VII.
The smell of coffee and eggs filled his senses and Roxas heard his stomach rumble before rolling over casually. Blearily opening his eyes he quickly darted up from the comfortable warmth. This was not the foster center.
Looking around frantically he finally spotted the man from the night before. Axel. His back was turned away towards the oven as he expertly flipped an omelet. Roxas felt his stomach tighten. He was overwhelmed with hunger.
"Oh, hey there!" A voice came to his left, startling him.
Demyx stood above him wearing a fresh outfit. He didn't appear hungover. In fact he held the same lopsidedly friendly grin as the night before. Dem crouched next to him nonchalantly. Roxas was baffled at what he felt was freakishly abnormal behavior.
"Thanks for last night," Dem stated sheepishly.
"I feel awful for making you drag me home all that way. But good thing you did, huh, Ax told me you'd needed a place to stay." He spoke conversationally.
Dem's tone was light, as if nothing was amiss with Roxas pooled around on a comforter on his floor. Roxas felt like a deer in headlights. Demyx seemed to notice this and laughed at the expression.
"Don't look so freaked out. I don't care, dude. We are happy to have you here."
Axel was walking towards him dawned in a blue apron with his eyes apparantly saying, 'told you so.'
"..." Roxas opened his mouth and asked in his raspy voice, "You... don't mind?"
Demyx laughed, his voice melodic and queerly comforting, "Of course not!"
Roxas cringed before hugging his arms around his legs.
"Why..." he felt himself swallow and forced the words spinning around his head out, "...let a stranger...?"
This time it was Axel's turn to chuckle. Roxas gazed up at him attentively.
"As if!" He grinned and winked conspiratorially, "You're no random. You're Roxas, and from today on you're Dem's cousin who came to stay with us."
Roxas blinked as he absorbed this information. Demyx was already moving past him. He was clumsily grabbing plates from a rack and brushing the stuff off the table to make room for three.
Demyx glanced over at him, "The bathroom's over there," he pointed, "Go take a shower. Breakfast should be ready when you're done."
Roxas slowly got to his feet and entered the bathroom. He locked it and quickly relieved himself before staring at his reflection in the large mirror. What the hell was going on he wondered. Was he dreaming? Had he somehow entered an alien universe?
But right now Roxas found that he didn't care. The idea of a warm shower was heavenly. He turned on the water before shedding his clothes and allowing the streams of silky heat to run down his body. Closing his eyes he shook his head and scrubbed his face. A sense of propriety told him not to use their soap or shampoo because these strange people were already being so helpful to him.
A knock outside the door echoed across the tile.
"Towel's in the cabinet!" Demyx's voice shouted.
Roxas turned off the water and grabbed a towel before putting his clothes from yesterday back on. It felt like a shame to do so but he only had the clothes on his back in his possession. In all actuality he only owned the clothes he wore; everything else had been destroyed. He folded the towel neatly and left it on the counter.
Peeking his head outside the door his stomach gurgled in demand to the strong smell of hot food. He slowly walked out, still cautious.
"C'mon," Dem cried from the table, "Grubs all hot and ready."
Roxas sat on the seat opposite of Demyx. Axel set a plate of steaming omelet and ham in front of him along with a bottle of the same green tea he'd given him the night before. Roxas noticed this gesture of Axel catering to his preference in drink. Demyx pushed a fork across the table and unceremoniously began piling food into his mouth. He munched loudly, uncaring if it was indelicate.
Axel sat next to him after a moment and began eating himself though with a lot more reserve. Roxas took the fork and cut into the food before slowly taking it and putting the fork to his mouth. It was amazing; so fresh and delicious and tasty. He felt his eyes close in bliss. He hadn't had decent cooking in years.
"I know, right?" Demyx said, his mouth still full, "Ax's cook'n is ama-zing."
Axel chuckled, "Well if you learned to cook yourself,"
Roxas kept eating while watching these men out of the corner of his eye. His plate was soon clean. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so full. The portions they got at the center were plentiful but other fosters would easily steal his food knowing he wouldn't give them any protest.
"Thank you," He commented, suddenly shy.
"No worries." Axel told him before standing up. The redhead snagged the blond's empty plate and walked over to the kitchen. He deposited it in the sink absentmindedly, uncaring about washing it right now.
Roxas felt like he should say something- do something. But the words were caught in his throat. Even as a child he'd been the quiet sort but now it was if there was nothing to express his inner turmoil at this confusing behavior from strangers. He stared at the table while his fists clenched in his lap.
Demyx seemed to notice instantly, "You okay?"
Roxas almost let out a noise of disbelief. This man who he just met sound actually, honestly, worried. About him. About a foster brat.
Suddenly, unbidden, Roxas felt tears flood his eyes. He brought his hand to his mouth to still his trembling. Demyx yelped, jumping to his feet and moving to pool his arms around Roxas in an impromptu hug.
"It's okay, it's okay," Demyx told him.
This only fueled Roxas on, he let out a harsh sob, his whole face turning red as he curled inward. Demyx tightened his hold and stayed like that. The musician began rubbing his back and soon Axel was next to him ruffling his hair compassionately.
"You're fine," Axel's deep voice rumbled, it sounded almost desperate to calm him down.
It took several long moments for Roxas to calm even in the slightest. His blue eyes reflected disbelief as he peered up at the people cradling him. He let his hand brush Dem's slightly and tried to smile. It was all he could think to do to convey how grateful he was or how relieved that there was kindness in this world. Kindness he never knew existed.
"Thank you," Roxas whispered. "So very much."
Axel's hand clasped his own and tightened, as if refusing to let go. It was a comforting gesture, so gentle.
Nothing good ever happened, nothing even remotely kind. That's what Roxas had always thought.
TBC.