a/n: just a little drabble I came up with (so don't hate me if it's not long enough). I hope you enjoy!
When it starts (and Roxas can't exactly remember), there is nothing strong enough to stop it.
Maybe Axel initiates it, with his sea-salt ice cream and clock tower invitations, and maybe Roxas continues it, with his overbearing need to be near the redhead from early dawn to late dusk.
Because when it starts, it starts off slow. Axel's large hand traveling up Roxas's thigh curiously, his sea-salt breath whispering "breathe, breathe", and those sharp green eyes opening paths into Roxas's soul. Roxas, with only a few days marking the beginning of his existence, knows no better.
And when it progresses, it is chaste kisses strung along by gentle hugs. Roxas never initiates the contact. Axel does, and when Axel does, Roxas doesn't protest.
The part of him that says no is small and insignificant, overridden by the larger part of him that still sucks in breath when Axel's teeth sink into his jugular, and the heart he doesn't have that should be pounding furiously at Axel's husky voice.
Roxas doesn't know what to call these days, with the sun beating down the horizon and the wind stuck on a non-changing tune. But he knows eventually, even if not anytime soon, it'll all come to an end and when it does, he might not be prepared.
.
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owari