Disclaimer: Yadda, Yadda. I don't own Kingdom Hearts and all that or any of the characters. If I did, well… I think you get the idea here. Actually, I don't really see the point in even writing this disclaimer since we all know it's common knowledge that all of us here at do not own any of the things we base our stuff on.

Summary: An issue strains an unsure heart of fire and feeling, like there's no way out. The heart attempts to end its beats but remembers that there is someone out there who cares. But by then, is it too late? AkuRoku.

Cry of the Flame

By: Sir SmokesALot

Something inside him burned. It burned and burned without any signs of ever dying away despite how much he tried to put it out. And the flames were constantly being fed by a new type of tinder used only for this flaming inner fire. The dry, raw emotions that readily take fire at a simple spark being caused by who he thought were loved ones. Those who were supposed to support him no matter what the situation. Those who were supposed to help him when he needed it most.

But instead, they were the ones who constantly pushed him deeper into the dark abyss of his current state of mind. They ignored him, they shoved him away, they avoided him. Eventually it came to the point where they didn't even want anything to do with him at all. And they stopped coming. They stopped caring.

Why? What for?

What did he do to deserve this kind of treatment? He was sure that he had not given those he loved any reason to abuse him like this. In fact, they treated him with love before. But why did it stop? Why?

But then he realized that he had the answers right in the palm of his right hand. Three simple objects that helped calm this unknown fire inside him. At least, the other fire inside him. Oh, he knew this fire was a dangerous one. The terrifying one. The one that scared people away once they found out.

The one that scared those that once loved him.

With the lick of his lips, he opened his green eyes to set his gaze upon those three pills that said so much yet so little. They didn't have mouths, but oh they spoke alright. They spoke loud and clear into his ears. They told him of his failure at life and how he had indeed hurt the ones he loved but yet didn't realize until it was too late.

Some mornings he had found himself in misery, in the confines of his room that had been completely trashed from an unknown beast that wreaked havoc the night before. He'd have scratches all over his thin arms, cuts all over his thighs, and bruises everywhere else. And on the walls there would be a bunch of sadistic writings that he didn't even remember writing but yet it was all in his own handwriting. His own unique handwriting. And he would hurt so much, his body aching in pain. Oh god, the endless pain. Because he didn't want to take those pills.

Those fucking pills.

It was the fact that he had to live off these pills to function right throughout his whole existence which irked him. He hated having to rely on something that wasn't himself or not even living. Three fucking inanimate objects that controlled his whole being.

So what did that make him? Did that make him a dependent person now? Even after all those years of demanding that he was completely independent and didn't need anyone or anything to help him with his own issues? All those fucking years of being the leader who people loved to follow?

He was once a proud college student who didn't let anyone get in his way. He didn't allow people to tell him what he could and couldn't do. When it came down to things, he decided everything for himself. And in this habit of going about things, everything was going his way. Everything was perfect.

But then the nightmares came. Horrifying dreams that made absolutely no sense to him, but terrified him nonetheless. They made him toss and turn in his sleep until they became so bad he'd wake up screaming with beads of sweat dripping down his body. But he thought that they were just that: nightmares.

A defeated sigh escaped his lips as his world began to rot and crumble into tinier pieces. No, not crash down. It already did that months ago. And he didn't need to cry, he's already done that too. All the way back to that one day he found out about his disorder.

Schizophrenia.

That made his life crash down on him. That one particular day when he found out about it in the hospital. He had found himself lying in a hospital bed with straps holding his thin, frail body down against it, giving no room for him to move even just a little bit. It was like one of his nightmares almost. Except, this time it was real.

And his roommate- yes, his roommate. He remembered Demyx's terrified face looking through that glass on the other side, the outside of that room. Fear. Was it fear of him? Yes, it had to be. That fear couldn't be for him. It was of him.

It was then when the doctors came into his hospital prison. Their grave faces when they told him, dark and controlled. It looked like they were ready to use force on him, as if he'd go bonkers at any minute. That scared him beyond anything he's ever felt before.

Back to the present, he's through with being frightened now. Through with it all in its entirety. Through with scaring away his friends and family. Game Over.

He just couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't let this drag on. Now was the time to calm the beast inside him. Time to put out the fire with a new type of fire. A type of fire that cannot be controlled by pills or counseling.

That delicious smell. The smell of kerosene. It invaded his senses when thoughts and mind came back to reality. The reality that was the room of his old abandoned apartment. The apartment where it all started. Red, now dry and old, writings on the wall were never washed off, and now an oily type of liquid dripped down those walls. In fact, it was all over. He made sure that it was all over.

Slowly, he held that palm out as he cleansed his mind of his life, forcing it to become blank and emotionless. Devoid of all that once made him him. The palm tilted until the three pills scattered about onto the floor.

And then his hands reached into his pockets to retrieve a new object. His savior. His salvation. The very thing that will send him to hell, and yet to heaven. His heaven.

A match strikes. A match is lit. And the match falls.

But in that very split moment, something suddenly hits him hard. Very hard. And it was only a thought. A single thread of thought.

Roxas.

It was the kid that still cared for him, even after all that they've gone through. His new roommate that replaced the old one who abandoned him in fear. The one who still stuck with him through the thick and thin. The one who even dealt with his violent episodes but didn't run. The one who loved him.

The one who would cling tightly to his sweat-covered body as their bodies rocked, as hands wondered, as lips met and pressed heavily against each other. The one that would cry out his name in the highest points of pleasure. The blond's electric blue eyes would stare directly into his own, devoid of any type of fear. And oh god, that skin. That smooth, baby-soft skin that he could not resist to touch. It reminded him of heaven. No. It was heaven. If that wasn't heaven, then he didn't want to see what real heaven was. Because Roxas was all that he needed.

They knew of each other's weaknesses. And also of every strength. And of every favorite object, every favorite food. He knew exactly how the blond liked his ice cream, his music, his everything. And the blond? He knew how he disliked his ice cream, but ate it anyway every single time he took the kid out to get some. Why? Because Roxas did not like being the only one eating something.

Because he was the one he loved.

'Oh god. What have I done?' His thoughts now ran a mile a minute, especially after realizing what just did just happen?

Axel had been too occupied with all the bad things in his life that he had completely forgotten about the one reason that kept him going. The one person who held his hand when no one else would. The one who wasn't afraid of his touch. The very good thing that kept him alive.

But now it was too late. The flames surrounded him from all around and closed in fast, giving no open path to escape, absolutely no hope of recovery this time.

And there's no way out.

No escape.

No rewind button.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

FUCK.

That was hot, hot, hot. Nothing has ever been so hot before. What's going on? What could be so hot as this? Hotter than the eternal flames from within?

Oh.

And all he could do now was scream as the flames engulfed him, giving him the pain he never imagined before. But the thing that had hurt him more was that he had let his best friend and lover down. His only true freedom. His love. His salvation.

"Roxas!" Cried the burning flame until finally he was no longer himself, but the delusional self. Laughing mechanically until the very end. Until he couldn't breathe anymore. Until he could no longer feel.

Abandonment.

Good bye Roxas.

////////////

A silver plated numbing gum
And Jesus resting on my thumb
A hard to reach malaria
I've got the mood that seems to scare ya.
I'm paranoid, self destroyed.
Believe me lord I'm sorry
I've got the mood that seems to bury ya
I've got the nightmare called...
Schizophrenia

Chorus
I cry. I cry and I don't know why.
The fever becomes my home.
I cry. I cry and I don't know why.
The fever becomes my home.
Becomes my home.

I love it when you're holding me.
You have a gentle way of calming.
I haven't felt that way since 1993,
When my mother held me.
I bet you're waiting for a long sob story
Of how I was mistreated again.
No, I wasn't built that way.
I was strong but desperately brave,
And I didn't mean to scareya...
Schizophrenia.

Repeat Chorus

Schizophrenia - Blue October