A/n: It has been a while since I've posted anything, but I got an idea that refused to leave me alone until I wrote it.

A Traitor's Gamble Cost Blood

Summary: Roxas is at war with the world. His relationship with his family is complicated and his relationships with his friends are healing. Roxas has secrets that he cannot admit to himself, but the new kid has secrets too, and his are deadly.

Prologue:

Generally, we all know what to expect in a movie or a book when it comes to a plot centering on the arrival of a new kid. Their appearance usually sets into motion a chain of events that lead the main character into a realization not only about the world but about their own character. For better or for worse the new kid is a catalyst to a new adventure. Every mysterious new kid seems to shake the world for the preexisting nobodies, and Sora was no different.

Scene One:

If only to himself, Roxas had to admit she was beautiful. Not only in that eye-popping physical way but deep down to her very soul. She had great knockers (if one was into that sort of thing) and was adverse to wearing bras even when going out for a morning jog. Her body was fit and she ate healthy, she got his dad to eat healthy too. She brought his dad back to life by giving him a purpose again.

Perhaps that was part of the problem. He couldn't find a fault to pin on her. She did everything right, said all the correct things, played the perfect part.

Roxas could tell that she would make somebody a great mom. He just didn't need her to be his.

"So, after your struggle match today I thought we could all go out and get something to eat," his father said.

The spoon that was heading towards Roxas' mouth stilled and he looked up from his cereal bowl to stare at the business section of the newspaper that his father's head was hidden behind. He could see the spiky tips of his father's blond hair sticking out above the paper, the casual way in which his father's left ankle was propped against his right knee, and a hand gripping the handle of the SHINRA coffee mug (whose contents were more cream than coffee), but Roxas would have given a finger or maybe just his favorite t-shirt to see the look on his father's face.

Roxas dropped his spoon back into his cereal bowl, and his father's newspaper rustled after the sound of the clatter.

"She's coming to the match," Roxas groaned and tried not to picture having to introduce his dad's girlfriend to all his drooling friends.

"She wants to get to know you better, Roxas."

"I'll give her my resume."

"Roxas," Dad says his name more like a sigh than an actual word.

"Dad, this match is important to me. I don't want any unnecessary distractions."

Roxas' father lowers the newspaper just below his eyes and Roxas gets a good look at the vulnerability in their depths when his father says, "This is important to me."

It happened again. Roxas was once more the bad guy, the one who couldn't do anything right. Better stuff a sock in his mouth right now before he kicks his own legs out beneath him.

"Do what you want, you will anyway." Roxas can't look his father in the eyes when he says this, and he nabs his half eaten bowl of cereal and deposits it by the sink, and then slinks out of the house before he can catch wind of his father's response.

Realization hits right when he slams the front door behind him. He forgot to grab his book bag and his struggle equipment. Fuck the book bag, Roxas thinks, but he can't write off his struggle equipment due to the match after school.

Not willing to go back in and face his dad, Roxas continues walking away from his house. His father usually leaves for work in about fifteen minutes and if he waits to get his stuff after his father leaves he will be late for school, but it wouldn't be the first time.

It is no surprise to Roxas when he finds himself in front of the sport's supply store. The lights are on and a red stick shift car is parked around back. Despite how close the store is to his house he has never been inside. His father always takes him to the chain store about twenty minutes out of town.

His first step inside the store sets off a perky little beep. The employee behind the counter looks up from a magazine he was flipping through and gives Roxas a toothy smile.

"Welcome, can I help you with anything?" the young man asks.

The first thing that Roxas notices about this man is his sharp, unnaturally red hair. The color and the funky way in which it is styled suggest that he is one who wants to standout within a crowd. The next thing that Roxas notices about him is that the magazine that he is looking at is opened to a page of a fit man holding a struggle bat at an erect angle and who is very, very naked.

"See anything you like?" The employee asks in an open voice and Roxas can't help feel that it is also extremely suggestive.

Roxas' face inflames, and he knows that it probably is the shade of the employee's hair. In second grade Roxas had once kissed the lips of a classmate on a dare, in middle school he had held hands with and texted during classes and after practices with four different girls, as a freshman in high school he had made out with his first girlfriend and fondled her boobs and now as a senior he had two ex-girlfriends and a handful of awkward sexual experiences. But nothing, nothing in his past could amount to the way the heat flooded his entire body at those words and the centerfold of the oh so naked struggle player in the magazine which was laying wide open(for everybody to see, for him to see) with absolutely no shame on the counter of a sports supply store.

There must have been a significant silence in which Roxas did not answer the man's question or maybe it was the red tomato color of his face that clued the employee in.

The young man took one look at Roxas and one look at what Roxas was staring at and his mouth opened into a little round, "oh."

With an unabashed chuckle, the employee flipped the magazine closed and slipped it under the counter. "Heh, showed you something you weren't quite ready for. Sorry about that."

Roxas felt his mouth moving but no sound was coming out. When he finally choked up a few words he wished that he had kept his mouth shut. "I-I was just looking."

"Well, isn't that obvious," the man said and cracked a smile which appeared to be just a little apologetic. "There is a sale going on today on struggle equipment. You look like a player. Would you like to take a look at our struggle bats?"

With those words Roxas's mind immediately flashes up the picture in the magazine. Get a hold of yourself, Roxas. Say something, say anything to end this!

"Sure, why not," Roxas finds himself saying, and time miraculously starts moving again as he follows the employee to a wall lined with struggle bats.

Roxas can't help but smile as he picks up a bat off the rack.

"Good eye," the employee tells him. "There are many different companies that make struggle equipment but Dream is the best."

"I have a mere Memory at home, but I have always wanted a Dream."

"My school team really lucked out because we are one of the few that Dream sponsor."

"You play? What team?" Roxas asks the man responsible for driving his mind to all sorts of places.

"Yeah, Radiant Garden."

"Really? I hear your team is doing pretty good this year. Star player won nine of ten matches. Who was it? Gah, I forget…no wait something like a wheel…Axel! Axel Rex. Yeah, Axel Rex. Tell him he better watch out because when I get accepted to Radiant Garden University I plan on taking that top spot."

"Really now? You know they only accept the best of the best on the team."

"Then my spot is already reserved," Roxas tells him. It is at this time that Roxas looks at the digital clock on the wall and sees that he has stayed way past his due. Not only will he be late, but he will miss his first class. "I should get going."

"Stop by anytime. It will either be me or the canker sore who owns this place," the employee tells him as Roxas strides toward the door.

"You should come watch us play sometime," Roxas finds himself saying. "I'm Roxas by the way."

"I think I might have to. I gotta get started on defending my spot on the team if you're as good as you say you are. Oh, and the names Axel. Axel Rex commit it to memory."

The school grounds are empty of their usual hustle and bustle, and Roxas almost feels like some sort of interloper as he sneaks past the open classroom windows and around to the gym's entrance. It's a swimming day, so the gymnasium is a dark void of space. Roxas's tennis shoes squeal against the slippery wood floor boards as he creeps through the dark. Every noise he makes seems to echo unnaturally loud and he can't help but cringe at the unavoidable sounds of his footfalls as he heads to the boy's locker rooms.

There is about thirty-five minutes left of Physical Education so he won't be spotted by a million pairs of eyes and the bare chests that go with them. And with that thought Roxas can't help but to think back to the man in the magazine. The image had become a permanent brand in his memories. The well-defined abs, the broadness of his shoulders…oh fuck. Roxas tried to dash away the image with thoughts of soft boobs and the face of the girl who sat next to him in history class. She had offered to study together and had attended his last few struggle matches. Just like Axel planned to do. Axel Rex star of a college struggle team and owner of a totally gay porn magazine.

Roxas manages to silently open the door to the boy's locker room. It is strangely dim inside but Roxas takes that as a good sign as he gently closes the door behind him. The boy's locker room was almost like a maze with little nooks and crannies perfect for those who were a little shy about showing off skinny arms, round bellies, or their lower cheeks. Past the coaches' offices and the shower room, closer to the hallway door rather than the gymnasium door was Roxas' locker. It was located in one such hidden nook along with the rest of the struggle teams'. His first instinct is to check Coach Setzer's and Leonhart's offices and he smirks when he finds them welcomingly empty.

It is then that he hears hushed voices. As Roxas approaches his own locker, he realizes that the voices belong to two different individuals and that they are both male.

"He doesn't remember…"

"That's your job. Only you can make him remember… at the right t-time."

The voice of the second person who spoke seemed rather hitched and breathy especially on the word 'time'. Roxas couldn't put any names to the two speakers and so decided to cautiously approach. If it was that fuckwit, Seifer or any of his goonies then Roxas would be better off backing quickly but stealthy away.

There was a wet popping sound and then the first voice spoke again, "And you'll show me how…hmm. Sounds like you're getting greedy."

"You know how our deal works."

There was a little voice in Roxas's head that told him that he should back out the way he came and not turn the corner to the row of lockers where his was located. He ignored this little voice or perhaps the warning came too late because when Roxas turned that corner he knew that he must have stumbled upon the new boy's little secret.

There crouched down in front of his locker was the new kid giving head to an upper classman. And it was Roxas saw without a doubt his locker that they were pressed so up and close against.

The upper classman bracing his back against Roxas' locker has his eyes closed, mouth parted, and his back arched in pleasure from the strokes of the new kid's tongue. The new kid's head is bobbing up and down and up and…

"Yes, yes…Sora," the upper classman moans.

Roxas remembers now. The new kid's name is Sora, and he has a disarming, rather charming smile. He can't remember what color Sora's eyes are only that they could drown somebody who looked too long in their depths. It has been about a week since Sora started school here and Roxas has barely said two sentences worth of conversation to him, but Roxas knows that he would give anything, anything to be the one wiggling and gasping on a stranger's locker with that mouth wrapped around his dick. He can already start to picture it. Oh, god! He is picturing it!

This realization hits Roxas like a hurricane and he can feel his skin warring against being too hot and too cold. He has to get out of here before they see that they have an audience with no admissions ticket. Roxas takes one step back and as fate would have it, his struggle bat bangs up loudly against the locker he was standing next to.

Sora's eyes shoot open and he looks right at Roxas. His eyes are an ocean blue Roxas notes dumbly. This is fitting however because Roxas is quite sure that he is drowning in them. He knows this because his skin feels wet and clammy.

Neither of them speaks. The new kid's mouth is still full with the other guy's penis and Roxas can't seem to work a word past his lips. It was the upper classman who broke the silence and he was looking at Roxas like he was the hangover somebody forgot to flush down the toilet.

"Piss off!"

"So, why have you been hauling your struggle equipment around all day?" Olette asks him during history. Her desk is behind Roxas's and so she has to lean over to whisper into his ear.

Mr. Vexen, their teacher was in preacher mode so unlikely to hear their conversation over his long winded explanations, but he was also known for his record of giving detentions. Personally, Roxas always felt that Mr. Vexen was a sad sort of man with his twitchy eye and long pallid face. Roxas figured that Mr. Vexen was the type to sit alone in restaurant booths and live with only a gold fish for company. Despite Roxas's deep sympathy for Mr. Vexen he had been on the receiving end of a good number of those detentions and did not especially want one with the struggle match he had today. However, he was just starting to get back into his friends' good graces after their falling out last year so Roxas felt he owed her some sort of explanation even if it wasn't totally true or true at all.

"I couldn't find my lock." She was not the first to ask him about his struggle equipment which served as a constant reminder to what he witnessed in the boy's locker room, but because she had known Roxas before he knew multiplication she was pretty good at sorting through truths and half-truths. Roxas had prepared a scripted answer for her, but the look he was sure Olette was giving the back of his head showed that she knew he was full of shit.

"Was it Seifer?"

Roxas could say it was Seifer. It was no secret that he and the twat had a rather antagonistic relationship. However Olette would want to know the details but then again she would want to know the details no matter what he said.

He knew that he shouldn't feel embarrassed by what he saw. After all it wasn't like somebody had walked in on him giving head, but the locker room incident (as Roxas had dubbed it) had felt like something private, and Roxas didn't want to be the asshole that told someone else's secret. Besides Sora was in the same history class as him and he might overhear the conversation.

It had taken all of Roxas's iron willpower to not look at Sora as he walked into the classroom right before the bell, found his desk, and greet the other students around him. He had avoided Sora all the way up to this point but it was getting harder not to chance a peak at him when they shared the same history class and he had a perfect view of Sora's back. Roxas didn't want to meet Sora's eyes because he was afraid of what he might find there.

Sora for his part had kept his distance from Roxas and had yet to approach him about the locker room incident.

"Did Seifer try to pick a fight with you?" Olette asked breaking Roxas out of his thoughts.

Roxas was saved from responding to her by the owner of the pair of boobs who sat to his right.

"I'm coming to your match tonight," Namine said. Her body was angled towards him and her breasts were peering into his eyes. It wasn't like Roxas meant to stare at Namine's assets, but her boobs seemed to stare at him. They practically panted like puppies at the neck of her shirt. Roxas didn't find them utterly attractive but he noticed them, because really who could not notice them.

"Going to watch me win?" Roxas replied and felt his ears redden at Olette's stifled laughter behind him. It felt like a shadow had fallen on him. Roxas looked up and noticed his teacher's disapproving face looking down at him.

"I hope Roxas that you could give me your thoughts on the big word big word big word of the keyblade war," his teacher said.

The whole class was staring at him: Olette sitting behind him, Pence with a degree of sympathy, Fuu with an undisguised sneer, Namine with a sheepish smile, Namine's boobs peeking out over her shirt, and Sora with lips that only two hours ago had been kissing some guy's cock. They were all waiting for him to give an answer, and the best that he could do was, "Suck my dick."

And yes he was looking at Sora when he said it, and no he did not mean for that to slip out.

He heard his peers gasp in unison but he did not hear their disbelieving voices or his teacher's sharp reprimand. What he did discern from the upheaval at his comment was that Sora gave him what could be named a mischievous smile and winked.

Roxas had detention. His teacher had been understanding about his struggle match and had postponed his detention for after school tomorrow, but it still stood that he had detention and Roxas knew that if his dad found out about this he was going to be so pissed. At least he wasn't in detention for fighting with Seifer as was the usual cause but it still sucked. And Roxas was convinced that it was all Sora's fault.

The locker room incident had plagued Roxas all day. He found that the harder he tried to avoid Sora the more that he noticed him: Sora getting a drink at the water fountain (his head bowed and his lips nice and wet), Sora biting the tip of his eraser during history class, Sora, Sora, Sora. The new kid was everywhere.

Luckily, Roxas had yet to see hide or hair of the upper classman that Sora had been with.

Lugging around his equipment all day was a constant reminder of the locker room incident. Roxas had ample time between classes and at lunch to put his struggle equipment away but he could not convince himself to go near his locker. By the time that the last bell of the day had rung Roxas found himself in a foul mood.

He dragged both his equipment and himself into the locker room to get ready for the match. His teammates were in full cheer and their boisterous voices filled the air.

Roxas warily approached his locker and surveyed it. His locker did not bare any visible scars from this morning's encounter but Roxas was unable to bring himself to touch it. So, instead Roxas shoved his crap into an empty school locker and quickly changed into his struggle uniform.

"Something wrong with your locker, Rox?" His friend Hayner said amiably enough but Roxas still had to squash down the paranoia that Hayner might know the real reason behind Roxas' reluctance to use his own locker.

"What? No! I was just trying to minimalize my time around the chicken wuss," Roxas said. Perhaps Seifer was good for something. It was always nice to place the blame on his head.

"Gah, I hear ya. He is on full throttle dick mode today. Would not shut up about…"

Having dodged another bullet, Roxas felt his shoulders relax. Roxas had met Hayner around the same time as he met Olette, but the two didn't really become friends until two years after. Their rivalry had given way to a rather competitive friendship. It wasn't like he didn't trust his friends to keep Sora's secret but opening up that can of worms was more than Roxas was willing to admit.

"Honestly, it is exhausting just listening to the creep talk on and on," Hayner concluded. Roxas was about to reply when something smacked against the side of his head and landed on the bench beside him.

"What the hell?" Roxas sneered as he grabbed the offending item, a box of tissues, and he turned to glare at his assailant.

Of course it was Seifer. His nemesis stood before him with his arms crossed almost casually over his chest and a smile on his face that just asked to eat shit. Seifer was an odd mix of both suck up and criminal. These traits served to make him an utterly nasty individual who could get away with just about anything under the teacher's noses.

"Have some preemptive tissues for your upcoming loss," Seifer tittered.

"Keep the box, Seifer. You'll be crying over my successive wins." Roxas threw the tissue box back at Seifer aiming for his head, but the other easily caught it.

Seifer's smirk grew when he looked over Roxas' shoulder, and Roxas turned around to see coach Setzer giving him a disapproving stare.

"Are we playing nice, boys?" Coach Setzer asked. Roxas could tell that 'boys' meant 'Roxas' with the way that his coach was glaring at him. There was a chorus of "yessirs" and one simpering teacher pet reply from Seifer that aggravated Roxas so much he blocked it from memory.

"Fuck, we are simply practicing our sparring for the upcoming matches," Roxas said before his brain caught up to his mouth and then he flashed his best sheepish smile.

"Roxas, could I talk to you a minute alone?" Coach Setzer motioned for Roxas to follow him into his office and Roxas obliged.

Seifer was hovering by the office door when Coach Setzer shut it. Roxas was not offered a seat but really the place was too cluttered for there to be one available anyway. Coach Setzer crossed his arms and considered Roxas with an unreadable stare.

The silence pressed on enough that Roxas felt bold in asking, "What am I in for, coach?"

"Roxas, you are one of our best players on the team, and I believe that your skill in Struggle will take you far. However, your school record is troubling. You have gotten more detentions in a month than the rest of the struggle team has combined in years. The team will sorely miss you Roxas, but the fact stands that if you are unable to improve your behavior by watching that mouth of yours and keeping out of fights then you will be asked to leave the team."

A pit had formed in Roxas' stomach and grew bigger and bigger with each word that his coach said. Roxas wet his lips, and even though he was afraid that his voice might crack he said, "You're kicking me off the team."

"Only, if the bad behavior continues. Coach Leonhart, the principal, your father, and I have talked it over and we feel like this is the best course of action to motivate you to reign in some of your more troubling choices of late."

Roxas bit his cheek hard to avoid saying something he would regret later. He could feel his nails digging into the palms of his hands from how hard he was clenching his fists.

"Roxas, if you need somebody to talk to, know that both my office and Coach Leonhart's office are always open. We want to see you rise to the top, and we are willing to help you achieve your best, but it is up to you to control your actions. Do you have anything you want to say to me?"

Roxas managed to mumble, "No sir." (Fuck yeah, you bastard!) But he was unable to look Coach Setzer in the eyes. Being kicked off the team would be like the end of his life. Roxas could see clearly the disappointed look that his father would give him. It would be like all of the other looks he was more prone to be given lately only this one would be a thousand times worse. "Can I go now?"

Coach Setzer observed him with sad eyes but with a baited breath he released Roxas back into the locker room.

It felt like electricity when the crowds cheered for him as he entered the ring. He searched the crowd for familiar faces and gave a waving Olette and Pence a grin when he spotted them. His father was there too; his face was obscured by dark sunglasses and a wooly scarf, and he was holding her hand. She leaned against his father and whispered into his ear. It was then that she spotted Roxas and gave him a maddeningly, wild wave. Roxas did not return it and shifted his eyes elsewhere. They landed on Namine whose perky boobs rose and fell as she bounced on her feet. Roxas could hear her cheering his name and so he sent her a wink. It was then that he noticed that standing a little off to Namine's right was Sora. The new kid was looking right at him and Roxas had difficulty swallowing a lump in his throat when their gazes met. Roxas quickly turned away and faced his opponent who was just entering the arena.

The crowd quieted as the announcer began the countdown for the match to begin.

Roxas took a deep breath and blocked out the world outside of the ring. His muscles itched with tension and his mind spoke one word, win.

Roxas reluctantly switched off the shower. The cold air instantly settled in and the light hairs on his arms rose. He nabbed his towel off the hook and wrapped himself in its warmth then walked quickly to his "new" locker to put on the suit his dad insisted that he wear to the restaurant tonight.

His teammates had already packed up their belongings and departed so Roxas had the locker room all to himself. The ceiling lights buzzed and the air felt stale and smelled somewhat like sweaty socks. It was even quieter than this morning when he had seen Sora and the other boy. Roxas dressed slowly knowing that his father and his father's girlfriend were waiting for him in the car.

After his match which he had won, of course, she had been cordial with his friends, and Olette, Pence, and Hayner all seemed to fall under her charms. Olette had elbowed him gently and whispered her approval in his ear, and Roxas had to swallow down his grumbles about his father's relationship.

Namine had also approached him and gave Roxas a big hug after his victory and praised him to the stars, but he had lost track of Sora in the departing crowd and for some reason he had to squash down a swell of disappointment. These strange, heated feelings that he had for the new kid and the model in the magazine were obviously flukes, Roxas reasoned with himself.

A sound almost like a low whine broke Roxas out of his thoughts. His hands which had been looping his belt through his pants stilled and he lifted his head to see a tall, white alien before him.

"What the…?"Roxas jerked back in surprise.

The alien did not react to Roxas' outburst. It stood as still as a statue, inhuman with its unnaturally warped body. It was leanly muscled with a narrow waist and painfully thin limbs, and its skin looked like shiny, white porous film. A strange mark that was a mix between a cross and a heart stood stark against its hooded head. He had an inkling that he had seen that symbol before. The alien's smile revealed jagged teeth peeking out beneath its hood and its fingers which looked to be as sharp as swords were nailed together.

This prank had Seifer written all over it. Roxas couldn't afford to pound that guy right now after his talk with Coach Setzer. Roxas's surveyed the locker room for any signs of the chicken wuss and trying to keep his cool he said, "Where did you find this guy? At a sci fi convention?"

Roxas approached the "alien" and reached out a hand to tug off the hood from the model's head. It was then that he noticed the others. He did a quick count and found that there were five of them, five identical "aliens" whose eyeless faces pointed towards him.

"Really Seifer? They don't even look real…"

The being before him lurched forward, its arm swiped through the air like a sword. Roxas wrenched his head to the side narrowly avoiding the blade like fingers aiming to severe his head from his body.

The alien's body barreled into his own and Roxas was knocked to the ground. Instinct told him to run but as Roxas was raising himself off the floor the aliens had circled him and cut off any means for a quick and clean escape.

Roxas's searched the enclosing circle for some sort of weakness but was having a hard time seeing past the aliens' daggered teeth. Their mouths were open and their sinuous bodies swayed ever closer as if hungering for his flesh.

Roxas knew he was dead. It was only a matter of time. Aliens had landed and somehow he had received the "lucky" lottery number to be a casualty in the first wave of attacks. They were going to devour him and…

One of the aliens screeched causing Roxas's ears to ring. The body of the alien that had rammed him to the ground sputtered and dissipated like smoke from a blown out candle. Standing where the alien had been less than a second before was the new kid wielding Roxas's struggle bat.

Sora didn't spare a glance at Roxas. He pivoted on his heel and swung the struggle bat into the head of the nearest alien. It shivered and dispersed like the first one. The others must have gotten over whatever shock they had for their companions' demise and sprang to attack. Sora dispatched them with the struggle bat as if they were mere cannon folder.

When the last of the aliens had fizzed into non-existence, Sora dropped the struggle bat like it was a mere piece of wood and crouched down next to Roxas.

"Are you hurt?" His voice was airy but rough. Oh god, and his eyes. Roxas had to look away from Sora's face. He felt his own cheeks inflame with embarrassment. Sora had taken out the aliens like they were nothing while Roxas could only cower on the floor. Some champ of the struggle team he was.

"I-what were those things?"Roxas managed to spit out.

"Shouldn't you be telling me? They were after you."