"This isn't my story," Roxas repeats. The red haired policewoman sitting in front of him really needs to stop sighing like that because he's telling her the truth, it's not, and he's pretty sure he can't get arrested for having stupid friends and no idea what is going on.
"Whose it is then?" She writes something down on her little notebook, scritch scratch, analysing the way he crossed his arms and picks at his jeans and refuses to break. He wishes he could tell her, but he doesn't know whose story it is, not really. It could be the story of Demyx, with his crazy hair and musicians hands. He's pretty sure some of it's Sora's, and the way he'd long ago perfected the art of holding them all together as everything else fell apart. It could belong to Riku, grinning as he fell onto the floor and announced that Roxas was what they had all been waiting for. He knows that some of it is definitely Nami's, with her soft hands and wall of newspaper clippings. There's some Z, too busy trying to figure out the boy with the sitar to realise he was in love with him. Or, (and here is where his hands start shaking and he needs to remind himself how to breathe) it could be Axel's. His stupid, wild Axel, speaking in tongues through his ever-present cloud of cigarette smoke and reminding them all that just because doctors say that someone's not all there, it doesn't mean there's not enough.
He shrugs; she sighs again.
"It's all of ours, I guess. It's our secret."
"Roxas, sweetheart," she says, leaning forward, and he's spent so long living in his underground, funhouse-mirror world with the others that he's forgotten he's underage and looks even younger. People make a habit of speaking down to him, and she's no exception. He doesn't like her being this close; her eyes are too blue and he's torn between crying and spilling every single one of his secrets to the girl that, honestly, doesn't even look that much older than him. "You're upset, and I understand that. But there are two dead bodies and five missing boys, and somehow they're all linked to you. So while I'm sympathetic to your cause and understand that you want some peace and quiet, I need you to get it through your head that the only way for me to help you is if you help me. So I'm going to ask you again: What happened?"
Someone outside the door laughs, and he can smell coffee coming from a mug on the table. There's a policewoman with the same sad coloured eyes as Naminé trying to help him and he figures he may as well let her.
Axel trained him well, and he's not stupid enough to believe there's a point in keeping secrets for people who aren't around to appreciate it.
/
The first real contact Roxas ever had with Sora, he was passed out on a park bench.
"Er, hello," Roxas said nervously, nudging the shoulder of the small boy curled up on the wooden seat. Brunet spikes moved as he groaned, curling over the side of the bench and gagging. Roxas jumped out of the way just in time, glancing around at the empty park nervously as the previously unconscious boy emptied his stomach onto the grass in front of him.
"Sorry," the kid apologised hoarsely, attempting to sit up before falling back down onto the wood. It was too dark for Roxas to see his face properly as he stepped carefully around the vomit to stand on the other side of the bench, but he couldn't help but wonder what sort of person got drunk enough to end up passed out in a public park on a Tuesday night.
"It happens." Roxas shrugged, looking down at the kid curiously. He still couldn't really see his face, but there was something a bit familiar in his voice, and he seemed pretty young. Probably homeless, Roxas assumed, before mentally punching himself for being such a judgemental asshole. "You, uh, you okay? Need to call someone? I've got a phone."
"Where are we?" The other boy muttered, finally managing to push himself up to lean against the back of the bench, head lolling backwards slightly as he caught his breath.
Glancing down for his first good look at the half-unconscious kid in front of him, Roxas bit the inside of his cheek quickly to stop himself from yelling.
The small brunet was a mess. His hazelnut brown hair was matted and dyed almost black with blood in some places, fringe slicked to his forehead with sweat. His eyes flickered open to stare at Roxas, the skin surrounding both of them an unnatural purple. Blood trickled out of a cut on his lip and down his chin as he tried to smile weakly at the other boy, wincing as he reached up to wipe it away. Roxas saw something familiar in the smile, behind the layer of blood and grime and bruising, but he was too distracted by the injuries to ponder over it for too long.
"You should see the other guy." He laughed quietly, immediately regretting it as he grabbed his stomach and inhaled sharply. "Sorry, I- yeah. Where are we?"
"Westfield Park, just off Settlement," Roxas answered automatically, hands itching to move the boy's fringe to investigate the source of the heavy bleeding. "Seriously, what can I do for you? I'll just call an ambulance and then-"
"No!" The boy interrupted, grimacing as his body protested his outburst. "No, don't call an ambulance, Roxas, please, I'm nearly there. Just that little blue house down the road there, look! You can see how close I am, please don't call anyone, I'll be fine in a minute."
"You- how do you know my name?"
At that, the brunet smiled again, busted lip not reacting kindly. Roxas tried not to vomit; the poor grass had been through enough.
"Your desk has been behind mine in maths class since we were like, five," he explained breathlessly, before his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he promptly slumped sideways, smacking his head onto the bench.
So that was why he had been familiar.
"Alright, Sora," Roxas sighed, leaning over to grab his classmate off the bench and wondering if his mum would notice how late he was getting back from work. Probably not. "Let's get you home."
/
"Why would you do that in the first place?" The policewoman asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "When most people see a person they assume is drunk passed out in a park, they don't really approach them."
Roxas shrugs, glancing to the side. "I didn't want to leave him alone. He looked so little."
She hums thoughtfully, looking at the blonde boy in front of her with a strange smile.
("You're so silly, Rox. Always doing the opposite of everyone else." "Shut up, Nami." "If that's what you want.")
"Whatever," Roxas huffs, and she laughs softly. He wonders if he could convince her to close her eyes for the rest of the interview.
/
How Roxas managed to drag the badly wounded and slightly delusional boy slipping in and out of consciousness down the road, he had no idea. Roxas had managed to catch him before he fell off the bench and swiftly avoid the puddle of vomit in one go, wrapping an arm around Sora's thin waist and pulling him against his side as well as he could without causing more pain to the boy.
However, Sora was getting limper, and the heavy breathing in his ear was becoming more laboured as they neared the small blue house the boy had pointed to before.
"Sora," he sighed, pinching the side of his hip lightly as they staggered their way into the small front yard. "Sora, c'mon, you need to wake up, I can't get you up the stairs with you passed out."
"Just get Riku," Sora muttered, letting his head rest against Roxas' shoulder. He blinked down at the boy draped over him, half-curious about who Riku was and half-concerned about how his previously white shirt would look when he finally got home.
"Who?" He asked, pulling the boy closer as he started to slump down again.
"Riku," Sora repeated, voice muffled as he buried himself further into the blonde's shoulder. "It's only a Tuesday, he'll be home. Fuck, he's going to kill me."
With that, he sighed, and promptly passed out again. Staggering under the sudden dead weight in his arms, Roxas swore, carefully lowering the brunet boy to the grass in front of him and glancing up and down the dark, quiet street.
"… Riku?" He whispered as loudly as he could, not particularly keen to wake up an entire neighbourhood as he was crouched over an unconscious boy. 'Riku' didn't respond. Standing up with one more concerned look at Sora, he frowned; the neighbourhood could just deal with it. "Fucking… Riku!"
The effect was instantaneous. Lights switched on in the front room of the small blue house, and a boy with dirty blonde hair appeared at the window, blue eyes narrow as he scanned the front yard. Roxas watched with a raised eyebrow as he took in the sight and his eyes widened, yelling something over his shoulder before running away from the window. A loud pounding of feet followed, until the front door was thrown open and another boy, this one tall with silver hair, ran down half the stairs and jumped the rest, skidding to a stop in front of Sora and dropping to his knees.
"Sor?" He asked, nudging the brunet gently. The blonde from before followed him out the door, towel slung over one shoulder and bottle of water in his hand. He smiled at Roxas, strangely cheerful considering there was a bleeding boy at their feet, and extended his free hand.
"Hey, I'm Demyx! And that's Riku."
"… Roxas," he replied warily, offering his hand and blinking as it was shaken vigorously. Riku was helping Sora stand, wrapping an arm around his waist to keep him up. This was the weirdest Tuesday night ever.
"Thanks for bringing Bambi home," Demyx grinned, placing the water bottle into the silver haired boy's waiting hand without looking away from Roxas. "Want to come inside and get cleaned up? You're kind of a mess."
"Sorry," Sora muttered from where he had been pulled against Riku's side. Not sure what else to do in the weird as all fuck situation, Roxas laughed. Surprised, so did Demyx.
"Yeah." Roxas nodded, still laughing quietly. "I'll come get cleaned up."
This only made Demyx laugh harder; Sora, smiling weakly, apologised again. The silver haired boy pulled him closer, eyes flickering up to Roxas with a small smile before focusing on Sora once more.
/
Looking back on it, that- that was the point Roxas should have walked away.
"So, why didn't you?" The policewoman asks, eyebrows furrowed as her pinkie finger traces absent-mindedly around the rim of her coffee cup.
"I guess," the blonde boys says, because that's really all that he's doing, "I knew that if I walked away, I would have spent the rest of my life regretting it."
"Why?" She asks, and for a second she's not a policewoman but a red-haired Naminé, blue eyes wide and interested as she finds herself caught up in the story. Roxas is half waiting for her to mention trains.
"They were just… worth it." He shrugs, and it's not that he is trying to be difficult; it's just that he doesn't really know what else to say.
/
"Coffee?" Demyx asked cheerfully once they got back inside. He pulled Roxas towards the kitchen as Riku led Sora upstairs. "Or tea? Or alcohol?"
"Coffee's good." He nodded, allowing himself to be navigated towards the door as he glanced around. He spotted a couch, small television, bookshelf and strange looking guitar crammed into the room before Demyx opened the kitchen door, glancing over his shoulder as he grinned and ushered him through.
"Welcome to the house of horrors," he joked, leaving Roxas to his own devices as he headed for the fridge. "Do you take milk?"
"No, thank you. Just black. Two sugars," he answered, looking around the small room. A wooden table covered in papers and books was pushed off to the side, half a dozen mismatched chairs crammed around it. Gingerly, Roxas settled down into a red office chair, using his foot to spin himself around as he took in the rest of the room. One wall was painted in what appeared to be chalkboard paint- not that much of it was visible through the messy scrawls of AXEL: NAMI NEEDS A MODEL AND WE VOLUNTEERED YOU; DEMYX IS INFINITELY COOLER THAN ZEXION; RIKU SUCKS DICK followed by a YEAH HE DOES and a messy sketch showing exactly what Riku sucked. Roxas grinned, turning back towards Demyx as he placed a steaming mug in front of him, pushing a pile of papers aside to make room.
"Thanks." He curled his hands around it and inhaled deeply. Demyx hummed thoughtfully from his own bright yellow plastic lawn chair, observing him with a titled head as he tapped his fingers against the side of the table.
"You should meet Axel," he declared finally, nodding his head as he made his decision. Weirdly, his eyes kept flickering to the mug in Roxas' hands. "You would like Axel. Axel would really like you."
"Nobody likes Axel," a voice from the doorway said, and they both turned as Riku wandered in and dropped heavily into a dark green armchair that was really a just pile of foam tied together with a tiny bit of green material and, Roxas assumed, positive thoughts. "We don't even like Axel; it's more of a sympathy friendship."
"Well that's true," Demyx allowed, winking at Roxas. "How's Bambi?"
"Sleeping, sore," Riku sighed, closing his eyes and resting his head on the back of the chair. "Tired, upset. Stubborn as ever."
"What else is new?" The taller blonde sighed. "Still, he'll live."
"He always does," Riku agreed, cracking an eye open and raising an eyebrow at the mug in Roxas' hands. "Black coffee?"
Roxas nodded, a bit confused at the silver haired boys snort of laugher and the look exchanged between the two older boys.
"What?" He asked defensively, suddenly painfully aware for the first time that he was sitting in a room with two clearly amused older strangers, one of whom he had just accepted a drink from.
"Nothing, nothing," Riku assured him, waving a hand dismissively at the frown on Roxas' face. "It's just, Dem was right."
"About what?"
"Axel would really like you."
At that, the two burst into laughter. Roxas still had no idea what was going on, but after raising an eyebrow and taking another sip of his (black) coffee, he decided he wasn't all that bothered.
"C'mon," Demyx said once he had calmed down, reaching behind him to grab a set of keys off the kitchen bench. "I'll drive you home."
"Thanks," Roxas nodded, and as he made to follow the taller boy out of the kitchen, Riku reached out and grabbed his wrist.
"Hey," he said softly once the blonde boy looked down at him. "Thanks."
"Sure," Roxas nodded, and that was that.
/
"Really, Roxas?" The woman asks incredulously, one thin eyebrow raised. "You went into their house, drank something they gave you and got into the car with one of them? Are you for real?"
"Is that what this is about?" Roxas shoots back, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. He takes back what he said about her being a Nami look-alike; Naminé never judged him like this.
"Well, no, but-"
"Then let's focus, shall we-" And here he pauses, disappointed that his sassy remark was let down by the lack of a name to say angrily. He knew he should have listened at the beginning.
"Kairi," she reminds him, eyes shining a bit in amusement and- oh, there she is.
Hey, Naminé.
("Hello, Roxas. I'm so excited to finally meet you.")
"Okay," Roxas murmurs, shifting to uncross his arms. "Let's keep going then, Kairi."
/
When Roxas woke up at midday the next morning he stayed in bed far longer than necessary, both to avoid his mother for as long as possible and to get into a mental argument with himself about whether or not the insane night before had been a dream or a reality. Flexing his sore arm muscles and glancing over towards the blood-stained t-shirt he threw off the night before, he grinned.
Not that he was happy Sora had been hurt or anything. There was just something about that house that made him want to go back there. The chairs, the chalkboard, the enigmatic Axel, the crazy guitar and the boys themselves-
Still, he reasoned with a certain sense of disappointment as he finally dragged himself out of bed and down the stairs, it wasn't like he would see them again. He and Sora might upgrade from occasionally smiling in the hallways to actual conversation during maths classes, but that would probably be about it.
"Morning, mum," he greeted the woman sprawled out on the couch as he made his way to the kitchen.
"Morning, Cloud," she mumbled, face pressed into a cushion as she rolled over and pulled the blanket over her head.
Sighing, Roxas glanced out the kitchen window, raising an eyebrow at the piece of paper sticky-taped to the window frame. Glancing over his shoulder at his mother, he opened it slowly, wincing at the loud creaking as he tore the paper from the wood and pulled it back inside.
FAMILY DINNER 6PM was scrawled on it in permanent marker, followed by a thoughtful line of love hearts and kisses.
Snorting, he shoved the note into the pocket of his tracksuit pants and wondered how he was going to entertain himself for the next 5 hours.
/
"And you went?" Kairi asks, leaning forward again eagerly. Roxas raises an eyebrow in amusement, both at her stupid question and blatant interest in his story.
"Would we be sitting here if I hadn't?" He asks, and the redhead deflates a bit, falling back to sit straight in her chair and tapping her fingers against the wood again.
"No," she admits, looking at him with a thoughtful gaze so reminiscent to Naminé that his breath catches in the back of his throat. "No, I suppose not."
Although truthfully, Roxas thinks that they probably would be. They would have all found each other, eventually. They had always been good at that.