Disclaimer: Ha. Haha. Hahahahaha... Yeah, no.

There were lights. There was heat. There were voices and pain and sparks and the thought running through someone's head that they didn't want things to end this way. That it wasn't fair. Light footsteps and acrobatic feats. The clinks and clangs of metal on metal – and then quiet.

A promise.

The next life.

...

...

The next dance.

Okay, so there were worse things. There was disease, war, child labor, starvation, corruption – the whole shebang. But really, dance lessons? That was taking it a bit too far. And it totally was not his fault. Yeah, he knew the terms of the bet before hand, and yeah, he'd sorta messed up, but Olette was totally cheating.

So now, here he was, sitting on the ugly floor of some crummy dance studio with piss lighting, a smudged mirror, and females on every side. Oh, Olette was just so happy, wasn't she? Roxas glared at her through the mirror. 'Oh! Guys, I just absolutely need someone to join Salsa class with me! Please! Look at me and my perfect hair and eyes and everything! You guys are my best friends so come on! Won't you do this for your beloved lady companion? Aren't I completely the innocent victim?'

Roxas had a bad habit of running negative mental dialogue. He also had a bad habit of getting himself into these situations. Olette smirked at him evilly. 'Oh that bitch is so going to get it!'He didn't know what "it" was yet, but he figured he devise some sort of scheme if he could get over the pulsing headache he felt coming on. It was bad enough that his twin brother had laughed at him for a whole hour before nearly passing out on the floor.

Now, the issue at hand wasn't some intense construct of masculinity he had to uphold. Any hope of that sort of thing had died long ago. No. The problem was that Roxas could not dance. At all. Coordination and rhythm ditched him like a whiny prom date the second he took his foot off a skate board or a Struggle Match arena.

And Olette knew it.

The door finally opened (how hard was it for the instructor to be on time for their own class anyway?) and two people gracefully slipped through the entrance to the crummy dance studio.

They were not the instructors. No. It was Sora and his silver-haired, walking-personality disorder-boyfriend, Riku. And. Sora. Had. A. Camera.

"Oh, Roxas! Mom wanted me to," he explained innocently, pointing at the lens. He sat down behind the waist-high wall that divided the dance floor from the front lobby. The girls giggled. A malicious grin crept onto Sora's face and Riku chuckled. Roxas, at this point, considered the likelihood of murdering everyone in the room if he broke the mirror and used the shards. Not likely. Olette wasn't the only one who had managed to drag a male companion into this mess.

The doors once again opened. A short, slim woman with blonde hair slicked back into two antenae type...things stepped across the threshold, followed by a tall and skinny redhead carrying two cups of coffee.

"You know, oh cruel mistress, you have hands. You can carry your own drink."

"Shut it. I drove. My gas money gets paid with hard labor." They stopped, seemingly noticing the class for the first time. "Oh. Guess we did have a class today. Whoops." She didn't appear to very concerned. "Well, I guess we'd better get started."

His jaw dropped. "But coffee!"

She waved him off. "Go cry a river, Axel. See if that pays the bills." He frowned and hopped over the wall after changing his shoes. "I'm gonna go get changed. Get the babies started, would you?"

"Fine," he huffed. He stood at the front of the class, and Roxas was able to get a better look at him. His fire engine red hair was a disaster zone, flaring out at all angles physically possible. The man removed his thin black sweatshirt and stood in his sweat pants and wife beater. His arms were muscled, but not bulky. His narrow hips and long limbs made him appear both lean and elegant, but also lanky. He was a contradiction, Roxas decided.

These detailed observations came as no shock to Roxas. It wasn't exactly a secret to his friends or family that he possessed certain inclinations along with his twin. That was just statistics. If your twin was gay, you probably were to. That was math and biology; Roxas was well aware. However, what did surprise him were Axel's eyes. Like, damn. They were the greenest green to ever green. And were those tattoos under them?

Sexiness aside, he was seventeen minutes late. He had been late for his own class, and for coffee no less! And it was because of his stupid class that Roxas was stuck there in the first place with his psychotic friend. 'Oh, look at me! I just got out of college with a dancing major and need a petty income! I think I'll earn it by torturing society's youth with sparkly costumes and physical contortion! That's a wholesome way to live!'

Again, Roxas had a negative, fairly sarcastic internal dialogue.

"So, I guess we'll start with introductions. I'm Axel, the most amazing thing that's ever happened in the history of the universe. Got it memorized? Good. The slave-driving bitch you saw a second ago is Larxene. She's your other instructor. Salsa is a dance made for two, after all." He threw in a suggestive quirk of his eyebrows that sent a couple girls giggling, much to the irritation of their romantic interests. "We're both twenty, poor, abused college students surviving only on ramen and absurd amounts of caffeine... So anyway, one by one, name and reason for wanting to, ah, embrace the sexy art of Salsa."

So, they went around and there were lots of, "I just love dancing!" explanations. Olette said the same, and then it was his turn. He was slumped with his chin in his hand. "Roxas. I'm here because someone," he emphasized, glaring at Olette once again. "Wanted a dance partner, and I ended up losing a bet just in time." If he was going to be stuck in this hellhole, he was not going to hide that fact that he was not enjoying himself. Olette gave him a smack on the arm.

At this, Axel just started laughing. He doubled over briefly, not at all attempting to contain his mirth. "Oh, blondie, that's just sad. Your girlfriend's got you whipped."

"She's not my girlfriend!"

He waved him off. "Okay, short stuff. Whatever you say. That everybody? Okay, we'll start with some stretches."

Roxas seethed.

As they all touched their toes, bent their spines, and otherwise performed bizarre angles, Larxene reappeared, only having changed into a pair of sweats and a tight pink t-shirt. Axel snorted. "About damn time. What took you so long?"

She laughed. "Coffee break, of course. I gave Demyx yours. Hope you don't mind."

"WHAT? Larx, you bitch!" College students are incredibly protective about their caffeine.

"Yeah, yeah, save it for someone who cares." The redhead clenched his fists and gaped before finally growling and promising revenge on the woman from hell.

Olette nudged him and nodded towards Sora, who gave a cheeky smile and a thumbs up. He still had the camera. Roxas felt his face go red and quickly looked away. "I hate you with every fiber of my being."

"What was I supposed to do? Hayner has summer school and Pence has his photography class. Besides, as a man of your word you must honor the bet. You're not getting out of this, Mister."

After an hour of more negative dialogue, crude humor made by the self-proclaimed sex god, and several laughs from his brother, it was over. Class was done. Too drained to resist, he let Olette drag him towards the happy couple as he tugged his hood over his head. He tried his best to tune out the laughs and friendly teasing of Sora and the others, and found himself eyeing Axel once again. Unfortunately, said annoying moron caught him and wandered over. Olette thanked him for the lesson and said she was looking forward to the next session.

"Yeah, sure... By the way, blondie," Roxas' eye twitched at the nickname. "I gotta know. What bet did you lose?" Roxas looked away and mumbled something. "Sorry, you're gonna have to speak up there, gorgeous."

He growled. "I lost a Struggle match!"

Axel scratched his neck, "I don't quite get it." In a huff, the blonde turned on his heel to hide his blush and marched out the door.

Olette laughed. "He told me he couldn't be my dance partner because he was fighting in the Struggle Tournament, which extends for about two weeks. So I told him that if he didn't make it, he'd have to come with me. Neither of us expected him to lose. But, he got matched up against Seifer on the first round of the Preliminaries – you know, where they weed out the top fifty out of a couple hundred competitors. Anyway, he wasn't really prepared and got beaten pretty quickly. It's too bad. He usually places in third or second. But I'm milking this for all I can!"

So, blondie was a fighter? Not surprising. "Geez, are all girls this scary?"

Sora cut in, his arm linked with Riku's. "In our family, that's been the typical experience. Just makes it lucky that neither Roxas or I will ever marry one. We'll leave that hell for Pence and Hayner." That earned him a smack from Olette. "Hey!"

"You better watch it, Sora. You wouldn't want Kairi to hear about that little comment, would you?"

Axel smirked. He liked this bunch.

Roxas nursed his cup of hot chocolate as he sat at his desk. He breathed a deep sigh and stared at the wall where his medal from last year's Struggle hung. Second place. He'd beaten Seifer that time too, only to lose to some frilly cheater named Setzer. And now to not even land in the semi-finals this year? What had even happened?

It was messed up. He kept telling himself that he just hadn't had time to warm up, that he'd pulled a muscle earlier, that the weather was too hot. But he'd fought two practice matches with Hayner before they started, he'd been stretched with no pain at all, and the weather was almost unfairly perfect. No. He got on the platform and he just blanked completely. The bat felt unnaturally heavy for some reason, and he just couldn't wake himself up. He couldn't get his blood pumping or his adrenaline up. He'd just been...empty.

Of course, afterwards, there was no shortage of snide jeers and cruel laughs from Seifer and his gang, but he didn't even really hear them. He just kept thinking about fire. He didn't even know why he was, but...

There was a knock at his door and then Sora was crossing the room to flop on his bed. "So, do you like your teacher?"

He shrugged. "She seems okay. Terrifying though."

"Nu-uh. The other one. The one you were staring at for the whole class."

He nearly spit out his cocoa. "What?! I was not, Sora!"

He bounced on the bed. "Yeah you were," he chimed in a singsong voice.

"No way. He's obnoxious, he was late to his own class, clearly some kind of sexual predator, and not to mention –"

"His dreamy green eyes and amazing hips!" Sora pretended to swoon and faint, landing on the bed with a dramatic sigh.

"Shut up, dork!" But Roxas chuckled at his brother's antics anyway. "Or I might just have to tell Riku that you're looking at other guys and their hips." A pillow met his face, and he was just lucky that he'd set his mug down.

There was a brief quiet. Roxas picked up one of his many books and opened it to a random page. Sora didn't move from the bed. "I see you still have your love affair with poetry."

"I'm ignoring you now."

"Closet romantic." He stood up to look at the medal more closely. It glinted in the dim lighting of the room, hanging over the many photos he'd pinned on the wall. Pence had taken most of them. Sora smiled softly at Roxas, who only buried his face further into the pages. "You know, it's okay that you didn't do so well this year, right? You just had an off day. There's always next summer."

There was a sigh. "Next year, I'll be eighteen. I won't be able to compete anymore after that." He pulled one of his knees up to his chest. "I still don't understand why you and Riku don't enter. You'd mop the floor with those guys." Roxas didn't look up from the page; it was Emily Dickinson.

He shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know. Just never really wanted to. We really just like competing with each other. Don't need a big crowd or trophy." He didn't bring up their fading youth again.

Finally putting the poetry down, he gave Sora a hard, serious stare. "He stares at your butt when we go jogging and you sprint at the last minute for the ice cream stand."

Sora's eyes sparked naughtily. "Oh, does he now? Well then. There's some small blackmail material."

"You know," Roxas started, laying the book on his chest and tilting his head back to watch the glow stars that littered his ceiling. "Most people that talk about you with me go on and on about how innocent and kind you are, yet here you are, plotting how to blackmail your boyfriend."

"What can I say? It's a gift. No one ever suspects."

"Hm." Soon, his brother left for his own small room and Roxas was left alone with his thoughts once more. Why had it been fire? It could have just as easily been something else to distract him, but it was fire. And he felt like...like he'd known it before. Like he'd been seared before by some, great mystical force, but he couldn't think of such an occasion. And it hadn't seemed like it had hurt, but rather...danced. Like it had danced in front of him and he touched it somehow.

Or something.

Roxas abruptly stood up and scratched his head vigorously. He wasn't even making sense! Dancing fire? That Salsa class was already getting to him! Spiritual mumbo-jumbo – he was thinking straight from the hot chocolate and draining sensation of 1:30 in the morning. What was he even doing? Really? Olette was going to drive him insane.

He switched off his lamp and made his way to flop uselessly on his bed. It was placed under his window, which overlooked the roofs and gables of residential Twilight Town. It was a sleepy town. The only source of much excitement came from the Struggle match every summer, the pranks that came from the local college, and a few tourists. Days easily became repetitive, which was why he was glad for his friends. They always found some rambunctious scheme to do. But now with Hayner in summer school, Pence putting together his portfolio, Kairi interning at some fashion place, and Olette dragging him to Salsa class, he was certain that his days would soon fall into bleak redundancy and boredom.

If only he knew how wrong he was.

The next day, he did not have to endure dance class. It was a three-day-per-week affair. Praise Yevon almighty. However, the Struggle matches were beginning, and somehow, he just couldn't keep from wandering down to the square to watch. Rai was up when he arrived, beating down on some freshman who was just running away from him at this point. Poor kid.

"Hey, chicken-wuss!" Why did he call people that? Honestly, it wasn't even a decent insult. If you're going to attempt to shred someone else's ego, you could at least extend the courtesy of trying to think about it a little. Surely Seifer could afford that much human decency to him?

No. Of course not. Why would the universe cut him a break? Bad Roxas. Too many expectations of the poor dumbass waiting to pound on your head.

"Why the hell are you even here? Want to go round two of ass-kicking? Come on, I hardly broke a sweat the other day!" Seifer needed to start wearing a shirt. He looked kind of stupid with his pecs hanging out all the time.

Roxas hardly glanced at him before returning to watch Rai's match. This, it should be noted, irritated Seifer, as he was a sensitive guy with attention issuses.

Now, it wasn't that the kid was particularly intimidating (Roxas had beaten him before) but it was more like sometimes he was so stupid that it became momentarily contagious. And as it pervaded the mind, one lost focus and succumbed to dull lifelessness. That must have been it! For a few minutes, Roxas caught Seifer's stupidity! That was why he lost. There wasn't any fire or mystical shit – he just had a few brain cells burn off. The thought made him smirk.

"Hey, I'm talking to you, dipshit. And what the fuck do you have to look so smug about? Maybe I should teach you a couple manners later," he threatened. Fuu nodded behind him.

It was then that idiocy struck.

Before he could register it, a sleek arm was wrapped around his shoulder, pulling him into a firm chest. "See, you could do that, Mr. Whatever-your-name-is, but then you'd get disqualified for fighting outside the ring." He was wearing jeans with holes in the knees, and a tight black t-shirt that served to heighten his slim figure.

Axel.

"Tch. And who are you?"

"Name's Axel. A-X-E-L. Got it memorized? Or do I need to run that by again more slowly?" Did he always use that lame catch-phrase? Roxas tried to pull free, but Axel's arm only tightened. He was about to yell at the moron, but got cut off.

"Well," Seifer said, hands on his hips and chest puffed out. God, were all these people animals? "You clearly don't know who you're dealing with. Seifer. I run this town."

"Reeaaallly," he drawled. Axel did not seem convinced. "If that's so, then how did blondie here beat you last year for second place?"

Roxas looked up at him, having given up on getting away. "How did you –?"

"I did my homework. Olette mentioned you did this stuff. Anyway, you," he said, pointing at Seifer with his free hand. "I do not like. I can already feel my IQ points dropping. So now, we," he hugged Roxas tightly,"are going." With that, he spun around, Roxas in tow, and practically sashayed off towards Market Street after flipping the birdie.

The thugs were left gaping like fish and sputtering for a decent comeback.

"Why are you here?" Roxas asked after he disentangled himself from the dancer.

"I was curious. I just transferred over to the College of Twilight Town this year, so you could say I'm familiarizing myself with the local culture. I was studying in Ecuador last year. That's where I picked up Salsa. Never thought I'd be teaching it though."

"Hm. You go to CTT, huh? What's it like?" They continued to walk at a calm pace. Roxas noticed that they were heading for Central Station.

He hummed thoughtfully, carefully considering the question. "A lot more quiet than what I'm used to." Axel folded his arms behind his head casually, gazing up at the pink-orange sky.

They reached the hillcrest and went to stand at the brick wall that overlooked downtown. "And what are you used to?"

"The hustle and bustle of Radiant Garden," he replied smoothly.

Roxas felt his eyes widen. That was the trading capital of the world! "That's where you're from? Then why the hell would you come somewhere like this?"

Axel leaned on the brick, and Roxas couldn't help but notice the way the light curved around his face, highlighting his already unspeakably green eyes. "Just wanted a change of pace, I guess. But enough about me." He looked at Roxas. "What about you?"

The blonde mimicked him to lean on the wall. "There's not much to tell really. Senior in high school. Few friends. Few foes. I'm pretty disgustingly average now that I think about it."

Axel smirked in a way that made Roxas think he was hiding something. "I wouldn't be too sure about that... You know, you a whole lot less pissy today."

He snorted at that. "Because I'm not sitting in your lame class – that's why."

He clutched his chest dramatically. "Blondie! You wound me, so! Whatever can I do to remedy your disapproval?"

"Tch. You could start by being on time." Not good. He was fighting back a smile. He wasn't supposed to smile! He was supposed to be annoyed with every second he spent in this idiot's company!

"Done." He leaned back to put a hand on his hip. "But what's the real reason?"

Again, he found himself blushing and turning away from the redhead. "Can't dance," he said in a small voice.

And again, he found himself on the receiving end of his bursting, throaty laughter. It was starting to get old. "That's it? Well, then. Don't you worry your pretty little head. I'll get you up to speed." At that, the clock tower chimed. They both looked up at it for a second. "I guess that's my cue to get outta here. I have chemistry in twenty. But don't fret, my sweet, for we shall meet again on the morrow!"

"Why are you still talking?"

Axel had started to skip backwards towards the tunnels. "Ouch. Hurtful, Roxas. I'll see you tomorrow." He vanished into the tunnel. Briefly his head poked back out. "Oh, and next time? Try giving him a math problem or something. While he's trying to figure out two and two, you can escape."

He once again disappeared, leaving Roxas alone with his thoughts, the sunset, and a sinking sense of dread for what tomorrow held in store for him.

Author's Notes If Anyone Cares Enough To Read Them:

I'm not quite sure how I thought of this plotline, but Axel's codename helped. This is one of my first attempts to write humorous fiction, so I really appreciate helpful (not mean) tips. Feedback encourages the creative process, so let me know what you think. There's more to come.

Thanks,

Candy for Keyblades

Update From Literally Three Days After Putting This Up: I made a couple edits. What can I say? I'm a slight perfectionist.