The boy on the stage was ethereal, angelic. Blond hair covered his face, spiking up to the left- my left, his right. Blue orbs shone out to the crowd, a piercing gaze that seemed to light up the room and rest on everyone in it. He wasn't smiling, but I wanted him to- wanted that so much, in that moment. I wanted it to be me brightening that face with a grin, a laugh, a smile.

He didn't look old at all- only sixteen or seventeen- but to be let into this bar he had to at least eighteen, and I knew that the bouncer was the best at spotting fake IDs. Rude was like that, silent and strong, but one of the smartest people I knew- Reno wouldn't have hired him otherwise. The kid was probably fresh out of high school, trying to garner some cash for college with his beat-up guitar and that voice.

It wasn't as if I'd never heard a good singing voice before. Heck, I'd heard better, plenty of times. But those had all been highly edited big-time singers on new digitalised mp3 tracks, in high definition and with a heavy bass drowning out anything that wasn't good. Half the time, if you listened to a live act of theirs, it sounded as if was a completely different person. This kid had none of that. He was singing in a smoky and outdated club on the wrong side of town, over top of the sounds of beer guzzling and someone throwing up in the ladies toilets. His guitar was barely audible and the microphone kept crapping out on him. Yet I still wanted to hear that voice everyday, every minute, every second.

There was no innocence left in his face. He looked beaten, like there had been nothing good in his life so far, and I could see that he'd been burned once or twice in his life.

Girl or guy?

Was it too much to hope that he was attracted to men? More specifically, men like me? The way I see it, it's always to much to hope when it comes to sexuality. God, for all I knew he was a homophobe, although why a homophobe would decide to work in Reno's bar I had no idea. Perhaps he didn't know- but then again, it's not like Reno ever went to lengths to disguise his doings and the comings and goings of his sexual partners. Girls, guys, Reno wasn't picky- and god knows how many times I'd caught them creeping out at obscene hours. When that happened, normally I gave them a couple of aspirin to help with the inevitable hangover, and usually collected their names and numbers on the off chance that Reno remembered them in the morning.

I wiped the bar off with a bluish cloth and some weird cleaning liquid that Reno had picked up from the dollar store the other day. It smelled kind of like sweat mixed with spearmint and sulphuric acid, and so I made a mental note to avoid it next time. It cleaned up okay, I guess, but it would definitely put off the customers, no matter how drunk they were.

It was that time of night, when I had to start refusing people drinks and kicking out the bawdier ones that seemed to think the middle of the dance floor was the best place to start a fight. The kid's set was over and some sort of techno crap was playing over the speakers, leaving only the drunkest of patrons to slump on the floor and doze, as the rest were to busy trying to dance until they upchucked on the wooden floor. I could tell already that tonight wasn't going to be pretty, and I hoped that we still had some of the extra-strength cleaner left in the cupboard.

I heard someone clear their throat behind me. "Ahem."

I turned around, barely turning a hair as I saw the kid sitting there , scowl permanently etched on his face. "Hey, kid," I said with a smirk. "Nice set you had there. What'll it be?"

If it was possible to scowl even more than he already was, he did it. "Beer, thanks. And don't call me 'kid'."

"Are you sure you want a beer? You seem a little young for that. How about kiddie liquor? That seems more up your alley..." I trailed away, already snatching a glass from the cabinet.

"Enough with the kid jokes already! Jesus fucking Christ, I'm twenty!"

I looked over at him doubtfully. This one I really did not believe. I'm a bartender, I've heard my share of "I swear I'm legal," and "look, it's real! That is my real ID!", especially the time I was filling in for Rude the night after he hooked up with Reno. But this one... I got that he was legal, and I was just joking about the kiddie liquor, but I had him pegged for a young eighteen, not twenty. Twenty was pushing it.

"Sure, kid," I said, turning back to my cleaning after pushing his drink towards him. "Pull the other one."

He growled and shoved his ID towards me. "Take a look, then."

I pulled it towards me, more curious than any bartender worth his salt should be.

Roxas Strife, it said in official black letters. DOB: 13/8/92.

"Rude passed this?" I said, incredulously. "This is legit?"

"Yes," he said. "For fuck's sake. I'm telling the truth!"

"Yeah, yeah, babycakes. Nice name, by the way. Haven't heard that one before."

"It's a family name," he grumbled. "On my mother's side. What's your's, then? You know mine, it's only fair. And stop with the weird nicknames, it's getting on my nerves."

I picked up a few glasses and wiped them, getting another customer a Jack Daniels and walking back to Blondie- Roxas. "Name's Axel. A-X-E-L. Got it memorised?"

"Axel, huh? Sounds about as fake as that hair of yours."

I raised my hand protectively to my halo of bright red spikes. "That's 'cause it is. All natural, Blondie-"

"Roxas."

"-Roxy. No shit."

He snorted. "You've gotta be kidding me. That is the fakest hair colour I've seen in my life. And my brother's boyfriend's hair is fucking silver."

I smiled. Not a homophobe, then. "I'm telling you, Roxy, it's all natural. I can prove it, too." I lifted the edge of my shirt slightly. His eyes widened and he flapped his hand furiously at me. "Jeez, okay! I get it, it's natural! You don't have to bloody strip!"

I grinned, letting go of the cloth. "Glad we could straighten that out, then. If you really want proof, though, my brother got cursed with it too. Reno, ya know? You met him, I'm sure. Yup, this is as natural as it comes."

"Glad to know. Can I get another?" He waved his empty glass at me, and I grabbed it out of his hands, silently refilling it. "Don't drink too much, Blondie. You might have to sleep it off here, and we don't want that, do we?"

"I'm not going to- for Christ's sake! Why does everyone assume that because I look like I'm twelve I'm a fucking lightweight? It's only my second one! I'm twenty, goddamnit! I should be able to get a goddamn drink without every man and his dog getting up in my face for every bloody drink I have! Jesus Christ! Lord knows when this will fucking stop and I've had it up to here! Goddamn. God fucking damn."

I stared at him. "That was a lot of swearing and blasphemy for one pint-size, Blondie. I hope you're not religious, because I have an inkling that The Lord Above is not going to like that."

"Shut your goddamn mouth," he said stonily, looking into his drink. He swallowed it in a couple of gulps, and I rolled my eyes, reminding myself to watch out for him later. I had a feeling that this wasn't going to stop there.

"Axel!" my brother yelled from the other side of the room. "Get your ass over here, stat, yo! We've got a live one!"

I sighed, walking out of the bar space and leaving it to our other bartender, Luxord, to serve to rest of the drunken rabble that were now congregating around the shiny surface while I went to clear out the first fight of the night.

The two that had gotten into it this time were a piratical looking dude with a white streak through his otherwise jet-black hair and a nasty looking scar that ran down his cheek, and a guy with dreadlocks and the ugliest sideburns I had ever seen. One had pulled out a knife, the other a gun, and they were about to go at it when my brother had gotten involved. He was holding down the pirate with the gun, who was obviously the bigger threat, but at the same time having to dodge the knife guy, who was determined to hack the pirate into tiny bloody pieces.

"Axel! Help me out here, yo. This is a big problem, 'cause it looks like they've got followers."

I looked around, and sure enough there was a group surrounding the two- a group that I recognised. "Xemnas," I said coldly as I pulled Sideburns away. "What are you doing here?"

The white-haired man stared down at me coldly. "If it isn't Axel Flurry," he said scathingly. "The one that got away,"

I gulped, now recognising the two Reno and I had restrained. Xigbar and Xaldin, Xemnas's lieutenants- the Freeshooter and the Whirlwind. They were dangerous to the point of death, and I was seriously wishing I'd stayed over at the bar with Roxas and sent Luxord to deal with this.

I couldn't believe I didn't recognise them. It had been three years, yes, but who could forget a face like that? Either of them could fit the description of 'tall, dark, and so ugly it burns'. It bruised my bartender's ego- never forget a face- and for a moment I was so shocked that I almost let go of Xaldin.

"Hey, Axel, yo," my brother said. "Catch-up later, okay? First let's get these guys-" he pressed his foot into Xigbar's back- "outta here." He kicked Xigbar out of the door, and I chucked Xaldin out after him. "And don't come back," I yelled, "got it memorised?"

I turned to Xemnas, sporting a scowl that could've rivalled Blondie's. "I believe I asked you a question, fuckface. What are you doing here?"

He laughed. "That's rich coming from you. If I remember correctly, you were the one poking your nose where it doesn't belong, Axel. I remember, you see." He strode around to the bar, going in behind the counter. "This is a nice setup you got here, Axel. It'd be such a shame if it all... disappeared."

"What the hell do you think you're doing, asshole? Get out from behind the bar."

"I own this town, Axel. Always have, always will. You've been given a break, a way out from your past... Don't waste it on petty grudges with the like of me. For all you know, you could end up back there, on the accused's stand... Only this time you won't get off scot-free like you did."

I laughed. "You've got to be kidding. You're threatening me? With jail? News flash, buddy. They don't listen to you, not anymore. Mayor Xehanort is dead, and the new one you don't have twisted around your little finger. They've been looking for you for the past three years, ever since that kid you hooked up ended up in a coma. I'm surprised you even showed your face around here, like you didn't know that someone was going to call the cops."

His smile didn't falter. "Where are your precious cops, Axel? Are they here? I don't think so. I don't think they're coming, you see. I think I have just as much influence in this town as I did before Xehanort's demise. I think you're bluffing."

"You know what I think, dumbass? I think you stole my line. Because that's just what you're doing, you know. Bluffing."

His eyes narrowed. "You'll regret this, you know. If they get me- well, lets just say that you were there that night too."

I smirked. "I thought you said that they weren't going to come for you? Or did I hear that part wrong?"

He scowled at me, and whirled off in a huff. I turned back the the rest of the Organisation, who made rude hand gestures and mouthed bad words at me. But there wasn't much they could do; after all, without their leader they were nothing, and I had effectively shut their leader down. I gestured to the group with my head to Luxord, and said in an undertone, "can you please tell Rude not to let those guys back in again?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You're gonna go up against the Organisation? Axel, that's bloody nuts! They'll crucify you! You know that as well as I do- and you know they'll tell, like Xemnas said. And you know that I'm just as guilty as you are, Axel, so when you're off flipping them the bird and pissing them off, you'd better bloody well remember to keep me out of this." He picked up the cleaner that I had been using earlier and made like he was going to clean the counter, but I knew better.

"Luxord, put that down, you know that's not going to work. I did that earlier, anyway. Will you just kick them out? Please?"

He sighed, and put down the cloth. "If we go to jail, I'm blaming bloody everything on you."

"Likewise," I said, smiling as I went to serve some rich bitch brunette a cosmopolitan. "Hey, honey," I said smoothly. "Bit late for you, isn't it?"

She looked me in the eye. "Cut the crap, Axel. You and I both know you're not a... girl person, shall we say, and I'm not a boy person."

I reeled. "Larxene, what... You dyed your hair! Wait- you bat for the other team?"

She rolled her eyes. "Never were the smartest, were you? But that's not the point. You just kicked my very good friends out of this hovel, and I don't think that's the way to build a business relationship- a relationship you sorely need. Look at this place, Axe- it's falling down around your ears! You need money, moolah, whatever you want to call it, and Axel, honey- I need you. Think of how great the Organisation could be, with us at the head! The power, the fame... And of course, the business, the money. I think we could have a very good business relationship, Axel, I really think we could. So... What do you say?"

I didn't know what I would have said to her. Larxene had this thing, this pizzaz that could have so easily swayed me to accept her offer. She was charismatic, altruistic, and this was problematic- I couldn't say no, not to her. She listened when you talked, appearing for all the world as if all she wanted to do was help, and then bam! She'd managed to wrangle home and hearth out of you.

I guess it was lucky it wasn't me that answered.

"That's bull, yo. Ya think you can get your grubby little hands on my bar and my brother? Lady, I don't care how pretty you are, you got another think comin'. He ain't got the rights to make a deal like that anyway, yo- only I can, an' I say that that's complete bullshit! Do you believe your own words? 'Cause believe mine, honey- you ain't ever coming near this town again. You think you got connections? Lady, I've got all the connections here."

She swiveled around on her seat. "Reno, how nice it is to see you again."

"Your definition of nice and mine are very different, Larxene, very different." He stepped closer to us, and I breathed a silent sigh of relief that I was behind the bar counter. It was a very good place to be in that moment. "In fact, Larxene, why don't you stop trying to seduce my brother- oh, don't give me that face, it's the same thing- and get the fuck out of here?"

"It's a free country."

"Not in my bar, it isn't. Are you going to leave, or shall I get Rude to kick you out?"

She got up daintily, evidently not enamoured with the idea of Rude touching any part of her. To be honest, I wouldn't be, either- Rude's as big as a tank, and about as eloquent and gentle as one, too.

"So, the Organisation, huh?" said a voice behind me. I turned away, missing the chance to see Larxene storm off in a strop, and saw that it was Roxas, who was still nursing a beer.

"Blondie," I grinned. "You missed me!"

"I should be angrier, you know. That you were with them. They messed up my brother pretty bad, once. But I'm not. I don't know why."

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked, playing the role of sympathetic barkeep.

"Not really. Sora's... Well, he's okay now, and there's no point in opening old wounds. But, I dunno... It just seems wrong. That I'm not angry at you for it."

"Get angry at me, then. Roxas, we met two hours ago, and we're probably never going to see each other after this night." No matter how much I would like that, I added silently.

"I can't. I've been angry for so long... I punched Riku in the face, you know, when I heard that Sora was in hospital. I blamed him for everything."

"Riku?"

"Sora's boyfriend."

"Oh." I started cleaning glasses. My shift was almost over, and I could soon let Reno take over for the night. Until then... well, there are worse people to talk to than Blondie.

"I knew you were an ass, when I first saw you. How could you not be? You're just so gorgeous, and cute-"

"Whoa, hold the phone, Blondie. I'm not cute, got it memorised? I'm manly, yes. Gorgeous, yes- you get points for that one. You can call me beautiful, I won't complain. But cute? Fucking cute? I'm not cute, Blondie. I am a manly man. We manly men are not cute. How many drinks have you had?"

He looked up at me with malice in his eyes. "That's not the point, Red."

"Red?!"

"You call me Blondie, I call you Red. Do unto others, blah blah blah. But the thing is- it doesn't surprise me anymore, hot guys being assholes. It's just a fact of my life. Hot guys are assholes. Nice guys are straight. Hot gay nice guys are taken by hot gay assholes."

"C'est la vie, I guess."

"Yeah. I guess. But you... I knew it. I think I already said that. But that's it. As soon as I saw you, I knew it would happen. I would fucking fall in love with you and you would fucking break my fucking heart. I just didn't expect it to happen so goddamn soon."

"Jesus, Blondie. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"I don't think you get the point of this, Axel. I can't get angry at you. You were part of the gang that caused my brother to be in a coma for eight fucking months, and I'm not angry."

I looked down at the patch of counter that I'd wiped. "That kid was your brother, huh?"

His eyes snapped up to mine. "You were there?"

I sighed, wishing I didn't have to go into this with Blondie. "Yeah. Yeah, I was."

"Well?"

"It was a shit of a party, ya know? Booze, girls, guys... The whole shebang. We were wasted, off our faces. I can't remember that much from it. I do remember your brother, though. Brown hair? Blue eyes like fucking searchlights? Yeah. Couldn't forget his face.

"He was pretty, I guess, if you're into the whole innocence thing. He'd hung out with us a couple of times before, and he never got anything, none of the jokes or innuendos. I didn't like him at all in that way, he was just like a kid brother. One that you got shitfaced with.

"That night Vexen kept giving him more to drink, and the kid... Sora... he just went along with it. And the next morning he was gone, and Xemnas was telling us we had to go, leave, before the cops got there. Xehanort had just kicked the bucket, and the police were cracking down... and then out of the blue, the kid had gone and crashed his car, and it was all our fault. I couldn't stand that guilt... I had to get out of there. I stood up to Xemnas, and got the shit knocked out of me by his guard dogs.

"Reno gave me a job, afterwards. And I guess I just thought that I'd never have to face that part of my life again. I was wrong. It was wrong. The whole thing was just so fucked up."

He looked into his cup, nodding. "Yeah, well, it was even more fucked up on my end, believe me. My brother was in hospital for with months, not able to wake up or do anything... And I wanted you dead. I didn't even know who you were, and I wanted you dead, you and your friends."

"You're talkative when you're drunk, you know that, Blondie?"

"I ask myself why I'm not angry with you, and you know what my brain comes up with? I'm attracted to you. You're attractive. I'm- you need to stop being attractive. Right now. Go."

"Blondie, the world doesn't work that way."

He rolled his eyes at me, and grabbed the front of my shirt, pulling me down to face level. "Maybe if I do this, it'll go away."

He covered my lips with his, and I could suddenly taste beer and something else- oranges, maybe, or perhaps lemons. There wasn't as much alcohol as I thought there was, and I smiled against his lips as I began to kiss back. "Blondie. You're not drunk."

"Never said I was, did I?" He smirked, and pulled me closer to him. It caught me by surprise, how strong Roxas was, and I let out a gasp into his mouth. In response, he thrust his tongue into my mouth and I moaned, a reflex response. He was dominating the kiss, and I was just standing there behind the bar, my movements limited by the slab between us. I broke the kiss, and whispered, "I'll just go sign out."

I did that as quick as I could, hastily shoving my time card in the slot so hard that it crumpled. I ran back out, and Blondie was still there, waiting for me; for some reason this surprised me. I had expected him to run off, but this... it was encouraging. I went back over to him and leaned down. "Now... Where were we?"

He rolled his eyes again- he was exceptionally good at doing that- and crushed our lips together. I lifted him up against me, and he wrapped his legs around my waist as he nibbled on my lip. I captured his mouth once more, and this time I explored his mouth, feeling a tingle in my stomach erupt as he moaned. He tugged on my hair- god, it feels so good- and I gasped out his name, his proper one. Roxas, not Blondie, or Roxy, or kid. In that moment he was Roxas.

He broke contact and looked into my eyes. "Your place or mine?" he asked roughly.

"Where do you live?"

"Hickory Street."

"That's too far away. Mine." I pulled him out the door and into my car, occasionally pulling him over to me and kissing him as hard as I could. In the car, it was all I could do not to molest him right there, but in my opinion, cars aren't made for that sort of thing. Especially not my rust bucket, which at least started on the first go this time; although it did rattle its way uncomfortably to my apartments in double the time a normal car would take.

"Your car is horrible, Axel," said Roxas, getting out and slamming the door behind him. "How can you stand it?"

"I'm on a barkeep's salary, Roxas, I can't afford better."

"Why are you a barkeeper, then? Why didn't you go to college, or something like that? You're smart, Axel, I can tell that already."

"Money's tight. I can't afford the tuition, and anyway, I doubt I would get into any college worth going to. My school scores in my senior year were shit, I was hanging out with the Organisation... I have a bad record."

"So retake the exams. Try and get yourself a scholarship, maybe. Student loans are available as well, Axel, and you can get a day job, maybe. I can't dictate what you do, but just... think about it, really."

"I don't know, Blondie, I really don't. Just... leave it, alright?"

"Yeah, alright," he said, pulling open the door to my apartment and tugging me in behind him by my shirt. We ended up tumbled on my kitchen floor, kissing as if our lives depended on it. "Not here," I gasped out as he bit down on my neck, kissing across my jaw. "Fuck, Roxas... not here."

We barely made it to the bedroom.

The next morning he was gone. I don't know if I had expected him to stay or not, but it still hurt to see the empty spot on the bed where his head had been last night. He had been... amazing. For a midget, he was surprisingly rough, although with what he'd been through I wasn't surprised.

I looked up at the ceiling, running my fingers through my hair. The red strands were still tangled, and I remembered the feeling of Roxas's hands, toying with them, knotting them; I sighed. If it wasn't totally unhygienic I would probably never wash it again, just to remember that. It was sappy, and so unlike me that I almost couldn't believe it myself, but it was true. Sometime during the night, I had fallen in love with Blondie.

I don't believe in love at first sight. It's a sham, a construct to leech money out of lovesick saps, mostly by bar owners like Reno, and jewellery and candy store owners. They'll buy you a drink, buy you necklaces and chocolates, and then boom! They'll fall out of love just as easily. It's not even love, it's lust, and guys thinking with their dicks. They're not looking for a life together, but a quick lay in the car, or in the bar restrooms.

That was not what I was feeling. It wasn't that I wanted to shag him again, but that I wanted to just see him. See his face one more time, just once. I wanted to see him smile, I wanted to hear him laugh. I didn't know why I wanted that from a guy I hadn't known for more than a few hours, but I did.

It wasn't fate. I don't believe in fate either. You make your bed, you lie in it, is my philosophy in life, which is why I worked at Reno's bar. But Roxas... for Roxas I'd believe in anything, even something as wholly unreasonable as destiny.

I got up carefully, moving my clothing out of the way. Blondie's stuff was gone- I had guessed that it would be. My stuff, however, was still strewn around the house where he'd flung it off, and I walked through picking it up. Some of it still smelled like Blondie, and I stuck that in the washing, not wanting to dwell on him. I knew I would never see him again, it was inevitable; all I knew about him was that he was twenty, and lived on Hickory Street, which wasn't exactly a small place. Trying to find him would be like looking for needle in a haystack; no, even worse. A piece of hay in a needlestack- if I tried, I would get hurt.

There was a note on the kitchen table when I got out there, a little piece of white paper that hadn't been there the night before. It was folded neatly in two, resting precariously on the edge, and I eagerly snatched it up.

Sorry, it said. Just the one word. Sorry.

I think that's when I decided to sort my crappy life out.

Back then, I was making deals with God, things like, if I pass the college exam I'll see Roxas again and if I turn my life around he'll give me a chance. I blamed my dead-end life for him leaving, like if I'd had a purpose in life he would have stayed. It was bull, I knew that deep inside, but I was desperate. After Blondie, it felt as if I'd become a bit asexual- I couldn't imagine doing it with other guys, or girls for that matter. It was always Blondie, as if he'd just taken over my life. Sometimes I felt like those really rubbish romance novels that my mother used to read, the ones about girls who had seen their perfect guys in dreams or guys that had fallen in love with a girl at first sight in the woods.

I took the exam, and actually scored fairly high, high enough to get a partial scholarship for chemistry. It was at Hollow Bastion College, which wasn't too far away, and I was working with this guy Ienzo, who reminded me of my old friend, Zexion. Zexion had died in a police raid back in the Organisation, one of the only raids there ever was there. Later, I found out that Ienzo and Zexion had been identical twins, and it felt sort of special- like I'd gained my old friend back. They were both the same, taciturn and reserved, with slate hair and a bored expression.

Soon enough, a pyrotechnics company picked me up, paid the rest of my college fees. In four years, after I'd finished, I was going to work there, but first I had to actually finish my schooling.

[PAGEBREAK]

I downed the orange juice I was holding, watching my brother suck face with Rude. It was a disgusting sight, one that I hoped was not going to be a regular thing. God, I missed alcohol, but I'd sworn off it for a bit, until I got my head sorted out.

It wasn't even the afternoon yet, and the two were about to get it on in the middle of my lounge.

"Is now really the time?" I asked, wrinkling my nose as my brother made a sound that I hoped never to hear again. Neither answered me, and I raised my voice. "OI! You two! That's repulsive, got it memorised? Knock it off!"

"Shut the fuck up and get your own fuck buddy, Axel, yo," muttered Reno, "and get the hell out of here."

I narrowed my eyes and got up angrily. "Fine. I want you out of my apartment by noon. And clean up any mess you make, please. Oh, and make sure you aren't seen, I don't want Mr Salisbury from next door traumatised. You look a lot like me, Reno, got it memorised?"

"Shut up and go way, yo. Shut up and go the hell away."

I rolled my eyes and strode out into the hallway of the apartment building. It was a crappy place, and whoever built it had no taste at all. The carpet was at least fifty years old and the paintwork even older; the stairs were a death trap and the only reason the elevator worked was because Gregory Smith on the third floor was an engineer.

Everything was a shade of puke-green.

I pressed the button for the ground floor, and then shivered and pulled my beanie around my ears. It was winter in Twilight Town and freezing cold, with snow threatening any minute. I wore the thickest coat I had, yet the wind seemed to eat its way through the fabric like a hungry beast, devouring warmth like it was sea-salt ice cream.

The elevator dinged, and I walked out.

I had my laptop with me, and a class in an hour that I could study for. There was a library a five minute walk away, and three inches of snow, so I had a choice between a warm place to study and the chatter of a million students, or peace and solitude and frostbite. I was used to noise, so I headed for the library; perhaps I could find a book to read as well.

I wasn't looking in front of me, opting instead to watch the footpath in front of me. I kicked snow out of my way, curling my lip in distaste at the muddy brown slush that covered every surface, getting in to the cracks and crevices and up people's pants, which was one of my pet peeves when it came to snow.

I don't like snow. I don't like the cold, the wet, or the rainy. I don't like water, or anything affiliated with it; I never even learned to swim. I don't mind, because I don't ever plan on going anywhere that would require that knowledge, which was why Reno's bar was such a great place for me. Alcohol and a dead end job nowhere near the water; how could life get any better?

I wanted more out of my life now, thanks to Blondie. A job, a proper house... maybe even adopt some kids sometime, in the future. I couldn't imagine myself with a husband, though. Hell, if I thought about it, I couldn't even see myself with Blondie, anymore. I was doomed to spent life as a crazy cat man.

I saw a store out of the corner of my eye. It was fairly new, with black and white gothic lettering spanning the slightly grubby windows. It looked reputable enough, and not too dear, and the designs in the windows didn't look as commercialised as ones in the other shops I'd seen.

Keyblade Tattoo Parlour, it was called.

I walked in, smelling the musty air. It didn't look like anyone ever went in there, which was not reassuring, and I was about to turn around and walk back out when a guy came out of the back room, drying his hands with a green cloth. "You here for a tat?" he asked without any real interest.

He had bright orange hair- not dyed, pure natural ginger. There wasn't an inch of his skin that I could see that didn't have a tattoo on it, but he was skinny and not threatening and he didn't have any piercings, and he had black glasses with chunky frames. He seemed to be in a perpetual state of apathy, and my first though was that I didn't want this man to ever put needles anywhere near my skin.

I nodded, though, as if against my will. I didn't know what it was I wanted, and I didn't know why I'd come into this dimly lit, hole-in-the-wall shop. It had seemed fine on the outside, but on the inside... I don't know why you'd waste the time keeping up the outside but not the interior. It seemed pretty stupid to me.

"I don't know," I said, though I was still nodding slightly. "It may have been a mistake, to come in here."

He opened his mouth to speak, but I stopped him. "And if you tell me that it's fate's will that I'm here, or some other hippie shit, I will walk out that door before you can say 'destiny'."

He raised an eyebrow. "There's no such thing as fate, unless you believe in it. There's no point otherwise. No, I don't believe fate brought you here. I was just thinking..." He grabbed my face, jerked it up and down.

"Do you mind?" I mumbled, his hands squeezing my cheeks together so I couldn't talk properly.

"Sorry..." he said, picking up a felt tip marker. "Can I?"

I rolled my eyes. "Sure."

He started scribbling on my face, which I did not expect. The fumes from the marker were horrible, and the feel of it on my skin- it was a slimy kind, and old. But soon it was over, and he turned me around to face a full-length mirror that I guess was to show people their tattoos in, and I saw it.

It was perfect. Two triangles under my eyes, bringing out the acid green in them that I'd inherited from my mother. They were like teardrops, and they made my face look thinner, and I just looked... older. More dangerous.

I needed it, as soon as I saw it. And I knew it was something that no one else in the business could do right for me.

"Yes," I said immediately, turning to the guy. "That's it. That's the one."

"Are you sure? Do you want to think about it? It's gonna hurt, you know..."

I looked back at it. I was rash, but I knew if I didn't do it know I'd lose the nerve. "Yeah. Now. Pronto."

He shrugged, leading me over to a cracked leather chair. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-three."

"Okay. I'll give it to you half price, 'cause you're young and you're obviously a student. Wait a second, I'll just go get the needles."

It hurt like a bitch, with the needle going in and out of my skin, imprinting the ink forever on my skin. Why had I gotten tattoos on my face? It was a stupid idea. It didn't take that long- although I suppose it wasn't a very complicated design. When it was done, he put a sort of salve on it, covered it up with a bandagy thing, charged me, and sent me out the door; I reached up, but didn't touch it. I didn't even want to know.

Instead of going to the library like I was going to, I went back home. I wanted to wait for the pain to settle a little, and I didn't know if it was okay to touch it or not. My class was very soon, by then, and I just couldn't go. I hoped fervently that Reno and Rude were done; god, that would be an awkward conversation if they weren't and with Reno's shamelessness, it would be a very detailed one too, which was the opposite of what I needed right then.

The white landscape kind of saddened me, for some reason. Sighing, I walked into my apartment building and trudged up the stairs, thinking that while for once my life was on track, but yet it sucked all the same.