Oh good god. This is the most risqué thing I've ever written in my entire life. No, it's not a lemon or anything, but it's definitely M-rated for dark themes, blatant sexuality, mind-warping, and language; it's as close to a lemon you'll ever get out of me and it made my heart pound in pure, unadulterated FEAR. I wasn't sure whether to put it under mystery or horror, but I went with horror because mystery doesn't sound as fucked up as this story is. I seriously was afraid to write this because of how sexual it is…and I'm shaking and cold and sick but I feel so accomplished!
This is a weird writing style, because it's completely in someone's head without actually being in their head. It's not first-person but it might as well be…if that makes any sense. I'm sure there's a term for that but I'm not really a writer. I kind of sucked at English, actually, because I always went off on tangents and spaced out a lot.
(This entire story was inspired by one song; I've never been overly fond of My Chemical Romance, but I randomly came across this song in my music folder. It's called "Blood," and it's the most amazingly awesome minute-and-twenty-seconds of appallingly humorous morbidity. If you get a chance, look it up; it made me giggle like no one's business.)
I don't own anything to do with Kingdom Hearts, Disney, any music I might reference, any books or art I might reference, or anything else you recognize unless it's something I brought over from one of my other fics. Oh, and I did write the sonnet, which I'm kind of embarrassed to admit because it's my first one and kind of retarded but it was necessary.
Cerulean Nightmares
Part I
You know you want to. 3612 Memory Lane. –R and L.
He deletes the message out of something like habit, except it's not habit because he's never done this before. He doesn't recognize the number or the address but he knows where Memory Lane is, and he needs a break from working toward carpal tunnel syndrome so he decides to check it out.
His black slacks and black tee-shirt will have to do, because he can't find anything else that's clean.
Memory Lane is in the rich part of town, but who cares? He's not out to impress anyone.
Axel thinks (he love love loooooves thinking, because he's always right and fucking brilliant) the kid'll be pa-the-tic. The kind who cries at the bump in the night, who watches romantic comedies and blows spoonfuls of Ben-and-Jerry's when he's – huhah – distressed. His hair is spiked into a fuckin' weird shape that favors one side of his head, blond – blonde, even, because he looks like a girl – and his eyes are ocean blue, or maybe cerulean, or whatever the fuck that crayon color is.
"Ce-ru-le-an." It's a great word, and he repeats it because it feels really good rolling off his tongue. "Ce…ruuuu…lee…annnn."
People's heads turn and they gaze upon his utterly cerulean (what is that again? Sounds fucking cool) awesomeness, but Blondie-blonde-blond doesn't notice, and he's kinda miffed because damn. Everyone should worship him, all the time.
But the boy is be-au-ti-ful, after all, even if he is pa-the-tic.
And holy shit, he's suddenly got four eyes. And an extra half of a nose. And a weird-ass mouth that's long; those lips are full and odd looking, and his tongue is too skinny when he licks his wrist and takes a shot.
Guuuul-p.
But fuck, even though his face is scary beyond all reason (hardy-haaaaw, and man but he's hilarious), his body's gorgeous and he wants that bump in the night so he can – mmhmm – take advantage. Oh, yeah, hold him like he cares, and then help him for-get.
But then the girl next to the Boy (another blondie-blonde, with tentacles or something growing out of her temples) catches his gaze and narrows her eyes like it's some kind of – ooooh – challenge. He tries to make his 'bring it on' face, but his forehead isn't working too well and only his lips move. Probably looks like some retarded 'come hither' look, but if she does come hither he'll rip those tentacles out of her fucking face.
Because he won't be able to see the Boy and that'll be really irritating and she's pretty but not nearly as fuckable as him and now the boy's leaning toward her and making a face and frowning and looking toward him and damn, but he feels in-vin-ci-ble. Something's in his hand and he thinks he's supposed to suck on it or something so he does, and smoke goes up his nose and he remembers he's supposed to inhale.
He looks to his left and jumps, because there's a pile of leaves sitting next to him, holding a bottle of something he wants to try but he won't yet because the label is scratched out or something and he can't read it, so he can't tell if it's marked 'poison.' But he thinks maybe it's Cerulean and he taps the pile of leaves on what he think is its shoulder.
"Ce-ru-le-an. In the bottle. I wanna try it."
"Man, you are fucked," says Demyx or whatever his name is from somewhere nearby, and he looks around but all he can see is that pile of leaves and the Boy out of the corner of his eye.
He gives a very stern look to the leaves. "Get away," he says, and he's proud of his steady, confident voice. But of course, it couldn't be anything but, because he's in-vin-ci-ble. "I…I wanna see the guy. Demyx. I wanna see Demyx. Move."
"Axel, it's me. Demyx," says the pile of leaves, but Axel isn't falling for that trick.
"Can't fool me. I'm onto-onto-onto you. Move, move, move."
And he says it a few more times because he suddenly likes that word more than any other word. "Move, move, move, move, move."
"Gimme that," the leaves say, and they kind of sound like a worried Demyx and he wonders if he can take acting lessons for a minute. But then Leaf Pile next to him grabs the Thing out of his hand and it's waaar now.
He makes to yank the bottle of Cerulean or whatever away from the Leaves and then he realizes it is Demyx and he laughs because the guy (he thinks he's probably his best friend or maybe his worst enemy) was just pretending to be a pile of leaves. "Silly Demyx," he chastises. "Silly Demyx."
Demyx rolls his eyes and says, "You need to stop now, man. Your sister's gonna be pissed."
He doesn't know what a sister is or why it will be pissed, but the Boy is really pretty and now that Demyx has taken his Thing, he needs something else to hold. So he heaves himself off the couch with ease-ease-ease (he's so fucking cool) and meanders across the crowded room toward the table with the Boy and Tentacle Girl. Only now she has weird-ass antennae, and she's – ohnoyoudontbitch – kissing him.
But he's still in-vin-ci-ble, so he finishes his journey (since when did the room get so long?) and almost reaches the Boy when they both stand and she leads him up the stairs. He's not even trying to struggle, even though Axel is right there, and now it's certain: the kid's a pussy, but he's beautiful and Axel must have him.
He follows, even though the stairs prove harder to walk on than the floor, and he gets distracted when he sees a fuckin' weird painting on the wall. Even in the dim light – especially in the dim light, it startles him. It's all distorted and holding its face and screaming silently and Axel thinks it must be on drugs, the stupid thing.
At first it looks funny, but the more he stares the more he realizes it's someone haunting him. His skin tingles and he gets goosebumps; he just knows there's something sinister beside him, but he's too afraid to turn and look.
The colors dance around and mock him, and the man jumps out at him and even though his face is permanently stuck in a screaming position, Axel knows it's telling him to watch out. He backs away with wide eyes and a pounding heart, and presses himself against the wall because he doesn't want the sinister thing to creep up and catch him from behind. It follows him and comes closer and closer, and Axel stares into its haunting eyes.
The mouth seems to open a bit wider and, trembling, he closes his eyes and prepares to be swallowed whole. But after a moment, nothing happens so he opens his eyes again.
He's not prepared to be met with the side of someone's head; the person tumbles down the stairs, and when he glances at the painting it's playing innocent. He marches up to it and yells, "Don't chase me! I can do it on my own!"
He doesn't know what he can do on his own, but suddenly he remembers the Boy and glares at the painting for slowing him down. He frowns and shakes his finger, and says a few choice words to make sure it knows its place.
They haven't closed the door so Axel stumbles in when he finishes telling off the painting and look, now he's too late. He'll have to yell at the painting some more, for making him late because Antenna-Girl's shirt is half-off and the Boy's shirt is nowhere to be seen and she's ride-ride-riding him. He can't see their lower bodies because a black sheet is bunched around her hips, but the Boy's face is the most erotic sight he's ever seen.
And he's making the noises he should be making for Axel and damn, but that is hot. He's aroused already and he can't stop his own hand from unbuttoning his slacks and diving in.
They don't even notice he's there, even though his head bangs against the wall when he slides down.
The Boy's eyes are halfway between shut tight and wide open, and Axel realizes he was only pretending to have four before, because now there are only two and they are be-au-ti-ful. The boy's lips are open in a prettier version of the painting's silent scream, and when his body spasms, Axel thinks he sees a fuckin' six-pack on the Boy's stomach.
But that's impossible, because the kid's so fucking scrawny and pathetic.
Or maybe it's him who's pathetic, since he's not on top of the Boy. Antenna-Girl is, and he's only stroking himself in the doorway watching the delectable face contort and listening to those silky groans as they finish and wondering where he put his lighter since he needs to burn that painting.
Oh, that's right; it was the painting's fault. He's not pathetic, it's still the Boy, and maybe Antenna-Girl but she didn't have any trouble dragging the Boy around like a fuckin' rag doll so maybe not and how can he think at a time like this? He can't focus on one thing for very long, though, so he goes back to watching the Boy as he rolls over to cuddle or some shit like that.
A bungee cord or something stretches out as far as it can go, or maybe it's a spring curling inward because suddenly everything lets go and shoots outward hard and fast. And it's funny but not so funny because in the same moment, the Boy kisses the girl and says three stupid words he can't possibly mean.
"I love you."
But that's just a lie because Axel is in-vin-ci-ble and the Boy is pa-the-tic and he'll get him sooner or later because he's brilliant.
He's gonna rest his head for a second against the wall and then burn the painting, and he fixes his pants because they feel kind of retarded. He wonders what Demyx did with the bottle of Cerulean after he stole Axel's Thing, and he vows to find it and take care of it because the sonofabitch probably broke its heart.
But only after he burns the painting, which comes right after resting his head.
He opens his eyes to a crick in his neck and a massive headache. He doesn't know whose bed he's looking at, but it's stripped bare and only a blood-red comforter rests on the foot of it. He closes one eye against the blinding sunlight peeking through heavy black curtains, trying to recall why he's against the wall in the first place.
He looks to his knobby knees and frowns when he sees a black pillow resting on them; whoever he'd shared this room with was kind enough to give him a pillow, though he doesn't know why they would if they kicked him out of bed. The pillow smells like rose milk and the random realization helps his mind become a little clearer.
None of this makes any sense, because he's never seen these surroundings and he doesn't remember what happened last night.
This has never happened before; he usually wakes up at home, on his desk, strings of nonsense covering the screen because he fell asleep on the keyboard again, even if he doesn't remember what happened the night before. He doesn't much like people, and he realizes he smells like shit.
Fuck.
He stands up quickly and immediately wishes he hadn't, because everything from his left foot to the middle of his back is completely numb. He hates it when his butt falls asleep, and it's not helped by the sudden wave of dizziness and nausea he feels; there's something dry and uncomfortable in his pants he wishes he didn't recognize and he wonders what the fuck happened last – oh, god, he's gonna heave.
As quick as he can with a malfunctioning leg, he rushes out the door and into a hallway he's never seen. The bathroom is right by the door and he's glad, because eight seconds later he empties his stomach into his porcelain savior.
(He has a feeling he'd get killed if he vomited on the hall carpet; it's an interesting deep green color and very, very clean.)
He hears a hard knock on the doorframe and he groans, because his head is pounding. A sharp, sultry female voice reverberates through the room, only adding to the pain; he detects a faint accent, but he can't place it and he really doesn't care all that much because he wants to curl up and die.
"You're up early," the female comments, and he deduces she's about the same age as him, perhaps slightly older. "I'm surprised. You were off your head last night."
She comes closer and he risks looking up. He notices how pretty she is; her eyes are poison green, her face is slender, and her lips are absolutely beautiful, even though her smirk is mocking him for something. Her hair is funny in the front, slicked back into two ponytails or something.
"Off my head?"
It hurts to talk.
"Yeah," she says, studying his face before turning to the sink and opening a cupboard below it. "You were staring at my husband all night, and then you wandered into our room to watch us fuck."
His eyes widen before the light makes his head throb, and he buries his face in his hand and groans almost disbelievingly. "That's impossible. I don't even remember the last time I was attracted to someone, but I've never been attracted to a guy before."
She snorts and hands him a dark purple towel, and he notices that the whole bathroom is dark purple and light green and a color Kairi would probably call 'eggshell.'
"Don't worry; you were really fucked. You probably thought Roxie was a girl, and I know how lesbians make guys hot. Besides; I know a newbie when I see one, and you, Red, are de-cep-tive-ly good at this. But you were still a virgin until just recently…figuratively speaking."
He frowns. "What're you talking…I don't…"
"I would be baffled if you did; Vex probably gave you something you couldn't handle again. Now get in the shower, because you're positively rank. Roxie's downstairs burning breakfast and I don't want you fouling up the kitchen any more than he has already."
He blinks, and when she slams the door the echo rolls around in his head and he thinks maybe a shower would be a good idea. He runs a wad of toilet paper along the toilet seat to clean off the extra sick and flushes, before putting the lid down and setting the neatly folded towel on top.
His leg protests his getting up but he really does smell awful and he thinks maybe the water will help him feel better.
The water is louder and heavier than he remembers it ever being, and through the partially open window he can hear the chirping of some morning bird. He closes his eyes tightly and leans his head against the wall, wishing away the bird and the light and the roar of the water.
Someone's trying to wake him, but his head hurts too much to open his eyes. He doesn't know why, but he's wet and exhausted and the man trying to wake him sounds worried. He lies still and tries to make out the words.
"Kairi's gonna hate us," the Voice says. "Hey. Please say something, so I know I'm not crazy because I'm fairly sure you're awake."
He tries to speak, but something sticks in his throat and all that comes out is a garbled 'hello.' It doesn't sound like a word so much as a moan, but he tried his best. He hears a sigh of relief.
"He's up, Larx. I don't think we'll need to call 911; just hand me that wet cloth."
Something wet drapes over his eyes, blocking out the rest of the light. It smells like mint and rose milk for some reason, and even though the scent is strong, as soon as he breathes it in he can feel his headache disappearing or maybe he just wants to believe that because it fucking hurts.
The Voice is very quiet now, and he strains to hear it but all he can catch is, "Don't say that, Larx. He's a human being, just like you and me."
He doesn't know why, but that feels like a compliment.
He still doesn't know who his saviors are, but he thinks he remembers blonde hair and green eyes. Soon, the Voice comes back and whispers, "It'll be all right – I'll take care of you."
He thinks the Voice is the most beautiful sound he's ever heard, just before he feels something soft like bread dough on his forehead and he falls into a deep sleep.
Axel wakes in his own seldom-used bed, confused. He doesn't remember what he did last night, and though he usually has a good memory, this is an increasingly familiar scenario and he kind of wants to scream. He's in clean, loose-fitting pajamas – another oddity he's getting used to, since he's usually too tired to change at night. The scent of rose milk clings to his shirt, and it's only more confusing but he feels as if he's just had the best sleep in his life.
He strains his mind, but can't recall a single thing; so he decides he'll ring Kairi, because he knows they were supposed to meet last night to reconnect after three months apart. His little sister has a very odd talent for knowing things sometimes, and he hopes she can shed light on this situation.
There's a cell phone plugged into the wall right where it always is, and he unplugs it so he can lie on his bed and speak. Punching in the numbers, he sets his arm behind his head, and strange phantom pain shoots into his brain but it's gone as quickly as it came.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Kairi."
His sister's voice is frantic and scratchy when she replies, "I was so worried about you! I mean…I couldn't find you last night at the party, and Naminé dragged me out at three because that's when everyone has to leave! Did you just leave before I could find you? Oh, god, Axel…I thought you were…"
He frowns and clears his throat. "Hey, Kai, I'm fine. I'm not hurt. In fact, I don't think I've felt this good in a long time. And…what party? I can't remember anything up till five minutes ago, when I woke up."
There's such a long pause on the other end of the line that Axel thinks the line must've gone dead, but suddenly Kairi's speaking, deathly quiet. "You don't remember last night?"
"No, but I'm pretty sure if I'd been at a party I'd be feeling pretty shitty right now."
"Hang on a sec."
He keeps the phone to his ear and he can distantly hear Kairi carrying on a conversation obviously not meant for his ears.
"Nam, I need you to call Rox and Larx. Talk to Larx if you can, because Rox is probably…well, you know. I need to find out about Axel. …No, he's fine. More than fine. …Yeah, I know; that's why I need you to call. …We can go after your phone call and check, all right?"
He can't help but raise an eyebrow out of habit; his sister is frazzled and frantic and something tells him he's missing something huge. Kairi's voice comes back, and she sounds much different from before.
"Naminé and I are coming over in a few minutes, okay? I think Selphie left her book there when she visited last time. Can you look for it in that dumping grounds you call home?"
"What's it called?"
"Uh…Twilight. It's got a picture of an apple or something on the front. It's one of those teen vampire romances."
He laughs lightly. "I'll look for it, but if I ever saw it I probably threw it out. I wouldn't want it defiling my sanctuary."
"Yeah, yeah. We'll be over in a sec."
He cancels the call and frowns pensively, wondering what in the world Kairi's so upset about. It used to be unheard of for him to forget large blocks of time but it's starting to become familiar like a friend he can't get rid of and he knows nothing bad happened; otherwise, he wouldn't be lying in his bed, feeling better than he has in years.
Moments pass and he realizes he told his sister he'd look for Selphie's book, so he rolls out of bed again and meanders down the stairs and into the living room. There's a book on the coffee table labeled Twilight, and although his entire home is littered with papers and books and coffee cups, it's ridiculously easy to see. He wonders why he never noticed it before; Selphie hasn't been to his house in nearly four months.
He picks it up and smells rose milk, and thinks he hears a beautiful laugh ring faintly in the back of his mind. He thinks that perhaps he's finally unhinging, because the laugh doesn't sound familiar but the voice does. The laugh itself is silky and mocking but genuinely amused, and he doesn't understand why he knows all this when he can't actually hear it.
He raises the book to his face and fans the pages, trying to send more of the scent into the air; at that moment, there's a knock on his door and he sets to book down so he can answer. He's expecting Kairi and Naminé, but when he opens the door he's nearly bowled over by Demyx.
He only knows Demyx from the corner grocer's, but apparently Demyx thinks they're friends now because he says, "I was so worried, man. I thought for sure you were gonna…"
He stops abruptly and sniffs Axel's shirt, and it's creepy enough for Axel to push him away. "The hell are you doing?"
"You smell like Roxie," he says, looking at Axel almost suspiciously. "Who'd you leave with last night?"
Axel sighs and rubs his forehead, already irritated with the man. He doesn't know who or what Roxie is, and Demyx is kind of annoying anyway. "I didn't leave with anyone because I didn't go anywhere last night. I woke up in my bed about a half hour ago."
Demyx pinches the inside of his cheek between two teeth, and looks away. "I thought I saw you last night."
"You were probably out drinking Cerulean or some shit like that," he says derisively, until he realizes he has no idea what he's talking about.
Demyx stiffens for a moment. "Come again?"
Axel shrugs. "I have no idea where that came from. Anyway, I'm expecting my sister, so…could you…leave, or something?"
The light hits Demyx's hair as he turns away and he realizes it looks to be made of sand; Demyx shrugs and shoves his hands deeply into his pockets. "Whatever, man. Say hi to Naminé for me."
He opens his mouth to ask him how he knows Axel's sister's girlfriend, but he's already slinking out the door and he's lost his chance. He's suddenly, and without reason, absolutely exhausted so he leans his head against the wall in the foyer and closes his eyes. After a few moments, another knock sounds and he reluctantly opens his eyes to answer.
It's Kairi and Naminé at the door and he can't help being startled when an unfamiliarly familiar male face superimposes itself onto Naminé's. It's stunning, with beautiful lips and cerulean eyes, but when Axel blinks it's gone and the only thing left is Naminé's questioning gaze. The memory of the image slips away, and it's puzzling but he doesn't really care because he's tired.
"Hey guys," he says automatically. "Come on in."
They traipse in after him and Naminé shuts the door softly; he flops onto the couch and covers his eyes with his forearm. Naminé sits by his feet and Kairi sits on the coffee table by his head, right by Selphie's book. "Sorry," he says, without really meaning it and without knowing why he's said it in the first place. He thinks he might as well continue so he says, "I'm suddenly really tired for no reason."
"I'm not surprised," Kairi says softly, and takes his hand between both of hers. "Last night I was afraid you were going to die."
"I didn't really do anything last night," he says, even though he's starting to think otherwise.
"You just don't remember," Naminé says, and he hears something shuffling so he looks at her. She's dug her wallet out of her white bag and she flips it open to reveal a picture. Slipping it out of its protective cover, she hands it over and he studies it.
It's an old family picture; Naminé looks to be about twelve, and she's standing next to…Demyx. So they're family? There's a father behind them with blond hair who looks uncannily like Demyx, holding hands with a mother with brown hair. The blond must be dominant, Axel thinks, but then he sees a figure he never thought he'd see again.
Sora.
Sora had been his best friend for a while, before he got sick. When Axel was sixteen and Sora was seventeen, the brunet died; Kairi, who had been dating him, was devastated and Axel was pretty broken up himself. But there Sora is, laughing at the camera and leaning on an unknown boy's shoulder. The boy is scowling slightly, but Axel can see the laughter in his eyes and he thinks they must be extremely close. Twins, maybe.
Though the rest of the family is standing in the sun, Sora and the blond are under an awning, and the reason he nearly missed them in the first place is because the shadows seem to swallow them up. Sora's eyes are like glowing jewels and the blond's match them, although they're a few shades darker. The rest of the family is sweet, but Sora and the blond are captivating and he almost feels guilty for being unable to tear his eyes away.
He wonders why he's never seen the unknown boy before.
"That's my older brother," says Naminé quietly, sighing with something like regret.
"Why did I never know him?"
"He was…not very well-liked within our family. He still isn't, actually, but Demyx and I can look past what our parents can't. Sora was always the favorite, because he was so energetic and amazing and easy to get along with. He ate when he was told, did his chores right away, and…he was everyone's sunlight. They were twins…and if Sora was the sun, Roxas is the moon but my parents expected him to be just like Sora." Naminé takes a breath and he thinks he sees tears in her eyes.
"He's really sick," she continues. "He's got a really rare disorder, and part of that is an acute sensitivity to bright light and heat. That really irked my parents, because he refused to go out during the day; he would walk to school before the sun rose, and he wouldn't come home until the sun set. If he's in the sun for more than fifteen minutes at a time, he looks like a lobster and even eight minutes in he's burned a little. I would've done the same thing, but Sora was in soccer and track and they expected him to be, too. They kicked him out just after that picture was taken; they tried to check him into a mental institution, but there was no basis.
He's not crazy; he really is just sick; but he wasn't sleeping well or eating well and they took the opportunity to accuse him of being on drugs, which wasn't the case. So he went to live with a cousin of ours in Radiant Garden, which was really taxing for him because it's always very hot and bright; but he was relatively happy there, I think. When Sora got driving privileges, he used to tell our parents he was going to hang out with Riku, and then he'd drive all the way to Radiant Garden to see him."
She smiles fondly. "Sora was always such a good brother; he always looked after him, even though he refused to admit he needed help. But one day…Sora came back from a weekend with 'Riku' exhausted and really pale – he was ill. We thought it was just the flu, because after about a week it went away; but it came back, and when he started avoiding bright lights my parents realized he'd caught my brother's illness."
She frowns, and Axel can see something in her eyes which almost frightens him. "It's almost impossible to catch that disease, because it spreads through blood, and they were both always really careful; but if you catch it, you have to take really good care of yourself. Our parents refused to let him go back to Radiant Garden, so he had no way of getting help…and then when he died, our parents blamed my brother. That was when Demyx and I realized that maybe Sora was right and our parents were wrong."
Axel frowns and says the first thing which pops into his head. "So, his sickness is like AIDS, or something?"
She laughs, but he can tell her heart's not in it. "It's spread in a similar way, but it's nothing like that. It's almost like a genetic mutation gone wrong; it doesn't mesh with the person's body, and if it gets into someone else's bloodstream they react accordingly. I actually don't know anything about genetics or diseases, so don't quote me on that; but I guess…it's like trying to mix grammar-school watercolors and traditional oil paints. It's…interesting, but not particularly pleasant to work with."
He stares at the picture, hard, because he realizes the face that appeared on Naminé is the face belonging to the boy. He knows he's seen this face before…it seems like an intense, intimate memory, but he can't remember the memory and it's almost infuriating. It seems like his mind is dropping away and he wants to grab hold but he can't because his fingers are stuck to the edges of the photograph.
"I could swear I've seen this face before," he murmurs.
"He threw a party last night," Kairi throws in, and when Axel looks he sees an unreadable look on her face but she seems almost disappointed. "You were there."
He chuckles, because he doesn't know what else to do. "I don't remember anything about a party."
"That doesn't mean you weren't there," Kairi replies, and he can tell she's angry now. "You were baked last night. I can't decide who I want to kill more; you, or Vexen."
He blinks. "Vexen?"
"He's the one who gave you his 'special,' even though he knew you don't frequent parties," Naminé says quietly. Her tone is gentler than Kairi's, but he knows she's feeling the same. They're very in tune with each other; they've always been best friends, even when Kairi was dating Sora and Naminé secretly liked Kairi. "He's usually pretty good about staying away from people who wouldn't like that part, but he always shows up to the parties and I guess he decided you were someone he could test his creation on."
"Parties? Plural?"
Kairi shrugs. "They throw parties all the time; at least three times a week. Their house is huge, even though there are only two of them living there, and they have nothing else to do with their money. Vexen is always there, though my brother doesn't like him."
"Maybe I should go to the next one and chew out this Vexen character myself," he jokes, but a glance at the girls' faces makes him blanch.
"No," Kairi says firmly. "Roxas has probably taken-"
"Roxas? Roxie?" He isn't sure why he says this, but all of a sudden he remembers the most beautiful person he's ever seen. The familiarity of the photo makes sense now; at fourteen, the boy is sickly and awkward. But now…he is beautiful and breathtaking and he's not sure why he knows this but perhaps it's a stray memory from the party he can't remember.
Naminé's eyes widen and she asks, faintly, "He lets you call him Roxie?"
He shrugs. "I have no idea. I just remember that name…and Demyx said it earlier, too. He says hi, by the way."
Kairi and Naminé exchange wary looks. He's suddenly sick of the secrecy and sick of being out of the loop; Demyx and Naminé are brother and sister, this Roxas person was Sora's twin, and now the only thing he knows is that he doesn't know anything. He frowns because there's nothing else he can do and asks, quite randomly and without knowing why, "Do they have a name for this rare disease of his?"
He doesn't have internet because he can't afford it, and he doesn't have any medical books because he's never been interested, but perhaps he can look it up at the library and find out why Naminé's parents acted so horribly. If it was bad enough to kill Sora, shouldn't they have been more supportive?
Naminé makes a funny face and giggles behind her hand, something that kind of irritates him because laughs are laughs and shouldn't be hidden. "I'm sure there's a technical term for it, but I don't know what it is. We just call it blood-sickness."
"His blood is sick?"
"Yeah…" She sighs, and her whole demeanor changes. She looks depressed now, something which does not look good on her. "He's almost died a couple of times, because of severe anemia. He actually met his wife in the hospital; she was there doing community service and he was stuck in the place he hates most. She was immediately attracted, and so was he. I'm glad; he's never been any good with people, and she has a history of severe violence."
He raises an eyebrow.
"I think everyone's attracted to him at some point or another," Kairi puts in helpfully. "I had the biggest crush on him, but he got sent away and I found out what a wonderful guy Sora was."
Axel doesn't know what to make of that, because he's never heard of Roxas until now. He doesn't know why no one's talked about him, but he's never been good with people either because if they somehow don't irritate him they just fade into the background. He lives in his head with the characters in his books and he finds them more pleasant company than most people. Perhaps he did know Roxas at one point, and –
Suddenly, something inside him lurches; it's a wonderfully sick, tingling feeling spreading through his entire body and lining his stomach. His vision goes blurry and his eyes become very wide, and it's all he can do to not grab his head or jump up and scream. It's the most horrible feeling he's ever had; he thinks it's similar to what a drug addict goes through when they're trying to stay clean and they start craving, but that's absolutely impossible because even if he did have something last night, once is probably not enough to draw this reaction out of him. Besides; this has been happening often recently and he thinks he's probably just sick or something. He smells mint and rose milk, and then he smells vomit and it's so potent he can hardly breathe.
"A-are you okay? Axel? Axel, please answer me," Kairi says, sounding much too frantic for the situation.
He forces his eyes closed and nods. "I'm fine. I just felt a little sick. If you've been telling the truth about the party, then I'm sure it's nothing to worry about."
Naminé bites her lip in worry and Kairi eyes him carefully, but he flashes them his best smile and they seem to realize that he's perfectly okay.
"Axel, please don't go to that house again," Kairi asks pleadingly.
"Don't worry," he says, and he knows the girls don't catch the fact that he didn't agree. He doesn't know why, but he wants to meet Roxas desperately. It's a sudden, irrational need, and if he promises he'll just end up breaking it.
A desperate character comes to him and demands that his story be written, and Axel is helpless. He is always helpless in times like these; his fingers glide over the keyboard and weave a tale of invincibility and deception and weakness of the soul, and not the body. The young man whispers in his ears and when Axel is too tired to think straight, the young man takes over and moves his fingers for him.
It's got a strange feeling and it makes him shiver in some places, but something drives him hard and fast and he loses all sense of self. He only pauses to powernap or make coffee or occasionally make rice or oatmeal, because that's all he has in his house and he can't afford anything right now.
He's four chapters in when he realizes it's been nearly a week. He checks his phone and sees that he has twenty-six missed calls and eight test messages; four are from Kairi, three are from Naminé and one is from a number he doesn't recognize.
The small silver device beeps pathetically and he checks his voicemails; all of them are from Kairi, telling him in frantic tones that she's worried about him and to at least unlock his door. He feels slightly guilty for making her worry and resolves to call her as soon as he reads his texts. Kairi's texts run along the same vein, and Naminé's mirror Kairi's worry. He deletes them and reads the last, which is baffling and exciting all at once.
You know you want to. 3612 Memory Lane. –R and L.
He knows, somehow, who this message is from and since he's just received it today, he can guess there's a party tonight. He likes the evenness of the address and though Memory Lane is far away, he can reach it easily if he goes early enough to catch the tram. He can dig in the couch cushions for loose change, and maybe find enough to buy something cheap at McDuck's. It's worth a try.
Out of something like habit but not, because he's never done it before, he deletes the message.
He powers down the computer and yawns, noting that his breath is disgusting and he's still in his clothes from a week ago. If he hurries, he can take a shower, and he knows he'll hurry because the hot water never lasts long. It's November, and although it never snows in Twilight Town, it's only because it's too cold to snow. He's just glad his heater is working.
He strips out of the comfortable pajamas, shivering slightly as he waits for the water to heat up. In a moment, he's under the showerhead and sighing in pleasure, because he really did feel disgusting. He notices he's nearly out of shampoo and groans, because his novel didn't sell very well and he's running on empty until he can write something worthwhile. Money comes in but not like it should and groceries are secondary to electricity; it shows but he needs to write and he's starved before. He can do it again.
He squeezes the bottle several times, listening to the wheezing sound and sighing when he realizes this is all he's going to get. He lathers his hair and revels in both the tea-tree scent and the way it feels to scrub his scalp, before rinsing and starting on his body. He has to hurry fast because he can already feel the water losing heat, but he refuses to smell like days-old socks and oatmeal.
Only a minute or so after the nozzle shoots freezing water onto his head, Axel is out of the shower and shivering as he towels himself off. He runs to his bedroom and digs in his bureau for warm clothes, and starts when he runs into something intensely soft. It's a pair of black pants, which are more like slacks than sweatpants but they're softer than any sweatpants could ever be. He sees that there's a matching shirt, and they're so warm that he puts them on without thinking about how he got them. He smells rose milk again and wonders if there's such a thing as olfactory hallucinations, but getting ready quickly is more important so he runs to the bathroom again.
He brushes his teeth thoroughly four times, so he doesn't feel the grime that's collected on them, and for good measure swishes around the rarely-used mouthwash Selphie gave him last Christmas. He runs a comb through his hair, but he knows it's pointless to style it because no matter what, it will stick up and make him look like a hedgehog. He only has a little bit of shaving cream left, so he uses in the thinnest layer he can – he looks terrible with a beard, and even worse with that awful stubble – and it's not quite enough under his chin, because the razor catches and he bleeds a little.
It's unfortunate that he'll have to go out with a wet head, but if he wants to catch the tram he needs to rush. He walks quickly into the living room and digs into the cushions, utterly surprised when he pulls out a fifty. He can eat for at least three weeks with this, and get some new shampoo. He can buy more toothpaste because that's getting low, and he wonders how he ever missed this much money.
But it's only one note, and he doesn't want to take it out because parties are great places to lose things. People are de-cep-tive and cruuuuel, and cannot be trust-ed.
He blinks and shakes his head, because those words echo inside his head and the voice sounds awfully familiar. It's like his own, except it makes him feel intensely predatory and disturbingly careless.
His body shudders and he decides it's just the cold, because he's afraid of what it would mean if he was scared of his own head. Before his parents died and left him the house, they thought he was crazy; and back then, he was afraid of his own head. He's come to terms with it now, but occasionally his thoughts make him shiver and he throws himself into his writing more than ever because he only wants to be as crazy as he'll let himself.
The book, Twilight, is still on the coffee table because Kairi forgot to take it and it makes him irrationally angry. He rips out a couple of pages and puts the book in the garbage; it doesn't matter if it's Selphie's. The blank pages he's ripped out smell like rose milk and he's always loved that scent but it's getting a little ridiculous.
He rushes to shove his shoes inside his boots and forget-forget-forget, and although he's not expecting to use a coat – he doesn't own one that fits, any more – he finds one hanging on the coat rack by the door. It's long and black and elegant, with silver chains hanging from the hood; it reminds him of the beautiful face in the back of his head. He laughs desperately and wonders if he really is crazy, but it's freezing outside and a thin coat like this is better than nothing.
It's warmer than he thought possible, and a pair of black gloves is found in the left pocket. He's not the kind of person to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he refuses to think about how disturbing this is and he runs to catch the tram after grabbing his phone and locking the door. He notices that the coat he found smells like rose milk and he laughs in an almost insane disbelief, but he tells himself it doesn't matter because the more out of it he is the better he'll write.
It's only when he's waiting at the station that he realizes he hasn't called Kairi yet, so he dials her number and listens to the ring which echoes in his head and makes him want to rip something apart. She picks up after four. "Hello?"
Her voice is loud and obnoxious but he hides his irritation when he replies, "Hey, Kai."
"I was worried, you idiot. We called and called, and left messages, and your door wasn't even unlocked-"
"I know, and I'm sorry. I just got sucked into my writing. It happens all the time; it just doesn't usually happen when you're already worried. I'm sorry."
"Well, what are you doing now?"
He hesitates for a moment, and decides to lie. He doesn't lie to her very often because she's family, but Kairi doesn't need any more worries. "I'm just about to go to bed. Why don't we meet up somewhere tomorrow evening?"
He can hear the smile in her voice when she answers, "Okay. Thanks for letting us know you're okay. Naminé and I are actually in Traverse Town to negotiate prices for the next launch, but we'll be home tomorrow afternoon. Love you, Axel. Stay safe."
"Love you too, Kai," he murmurs, wondering why that suddenly leaves a bad taste in his mouth. "See you tomorrow."
After he cancels the call, he feels a chilling wind sweep over him and leaves him shivering despite the warm layers he's wearing. He pulls the hood up to cover his wet head, and when he boards the tram people inch away from him. He doesn't know why, but if he doesn't have to stand near them, he doesn't care.
He jogs from the station to Market Square, passes the jewelry store and the church, and turns onto Memory Lane. He leans down and puts his hands on his knees to catch his breath – the life of a writer isn't very full of exercise – and continues at a much slower pace. He passes 3610 and 3611, but there's a wall running between 3611 and 3613. He sighs, frustrated, before noticing a strange crack in the wall; once he ducks into it, he follows a sort of woodsy trail to the biggest house he's ever seen. It's not just a house; it's a mansion.
There are statues and stones in the courtyard and at dusk they remind him of gravestones; but of course, no one would have a cemetery in front of their house, and he awkwardly stands on the low stone porch before knocking on the door.
He's suddenly on edge, and when a pretty blonde woman with strange hair and poisonous green eyes opens the door, he swallows and can't say anything for several moments. Her lips curve into a malicious smirk and she doesn't wait for him to introduce himself.
"My name is Larxene," she says, but her polite tone is laced with something much more sinister, complemented by her faint accent. "I'll be your…hostess this evening. Please, do come in."
He follows her inside and hears the click of a lock; he jumps, but she gives him an almost honest smile. "Kids like to come exploring. We don't like unexpected visitors, so we lock them out. There are a lot of valuable things in here; look, in this case we have the famous glass slippers of Cinderella. Over there," she continues, pointing to a painting, "is the original of the famous "Beauty and the Beast." I'm sure you can see why we lock people out."
He can, but he wonders why she's showing him around the mansion like it's a museum when there's going to be a party.
The foyer is huge and his eyes take in the random tables and bits of furniture which look utterly out of place in a pristine house like this. He's already noticed that it's the cleanest home he's ever seen, and he starts violently when someone steps out from the shadows.
It's Roxas; he's sure of it; and the man moves like a ballerina, all liquid and precise steps. Axel doesn't know how he missed the guy, since he seems to simply shine, but he does realize he's backed against the wall by the door for some unknown reason. He's trembling and something tells him it has nothing to do with the chill in the house, though that probably has something to do with the intensity.
The smile he's given is probably the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, besides the eyes above it, and the dark rings of exhaustion only serve to bring out the color.
Ce-ru-le-an, his brain whispers, and he bites his lip as he watches Roxas come closer-closer-closer.
"I'm Roxas," the blond says, after he's merely a foot away from Axel. His proximity lays a spell on his body, and his breathing hitches when the man continues, "But you already knew that."
It's not really a question at all, but Axel nods anyway because he doesn't feel capable of doing anything else. Roxas is quite a bit shorter than him, but he's also taller than everyone else he knows so that doesn't mean much. Something in Roxas' eyes catches him and holds him, and he vaguely hears Larxene's malicious snickers in the background.
His eyes are ce-ru-le-an, and Axel is only vaguely surprised when Roxas kisses him. The surprise comes from the fact that his wife is right there, laughing about the situation, watching her husband kiss another man; but that vague thought gets pushed out quickly and he's not surprised any more because he can't do anything except kiss back.
He makes a noise he's never heard himself make, and wraps his arms around the short blond. The blond is scrawny and weak and pa-the-tic, and suddenly something snaps and it's Roxas against the wall instead. Axel is leaning forward with his hands against the wall on either side of Roxas' head, and Blondie-blonde-blond doesn't ever close his eyes.
Ce-ru-le-an beauty hazes in front of him and he bites down on the Boy's lower lip. The boy yowls like a cat and his wife cackles in the background and he doesn't care that this is wro-ng. The Boy arches when Axel does something with his hands (he's not really paying attention to them), and moves his lips to his jaw.
Roxas' lips are soft and in-sis-tent but that's the only force he's showing, and he continues from Axel's jaw to the underside of his chin, all the way down his neck to his collarbones and up the other side. Axel can see Roxas' pupils dilate, and he does something with his tongue which makes vi-o-lent shudders run through Axel's en-tire body. He keeps doing whatever he was doing before with his hands, but Larxene isn't laughing now and she's actually pulling him off her husband with sur-pri-sing-ly muscular arms.
She isn't angry; but she shakes Roxas, whose pupils are still dilated. He's still panting, like he's out of breath and it all looks so er-o-tic to him that he has to look away for a moment or push Larxene and kiss Roxas again.
"What are you doing," she hisses, shaking the blond again. His head lolls like he has no control over his body, and if he's really as weak as he seems, perhaps he doesn't.
He only looks at her help-less-ly and shrugs, like words are beyond him. She sighs and stops shaking him, drawing him into a sur-pri-sing-ly tender embrace.
"Don't do this to yourself," she whispers, and captures his lips for a moment. His eyes return to normal and Axel realizes he's an outsider, who's been kissed by a stranger. His head is clear now, and he feels a bit disgusted with himself; he let it happen. He's never been attracted to a man before, and this doesn't really bother him because he can't remember being attracted to a woman either, but to be so passionate about a man he's just met makes him uneasy. He let a man kiss him in front of the man's wife, and enjoyed it more than almost anything.
She slaps Roxas, hard, and though he rubs his reddening cheek he's smiling and looking at her with a strange mix of love and irritation. "Good old Larx," he says. "I was afraid you'd gone soft."
The blond composes himself and speaks to Axel again, as if the last few minutes didn't happen. "My guests will be arriving soon. We'd love it if you'd stay."
He has no intention to leave the mansion, even though there's a part of his brain begging him to go before it's too late. He simply wanders over to the couch and sits, and after a few minutes a knock is heard. Larxene opens the door and a stream of guests pour in; one of them seems to recognize him and heads toward his couch.
"Hello again," he says, and his voice is strange. There's something in his green snake eyes which makes Axel want to squirm in disgust, but the smile is genial enough; the long blond hair drapes just past his shoulders and although it makes for an imposing image, Axel isn't intimidated in the least.
"I'm afraid I don't remember you," he admits.
The man shrugs. "That's all right. I would be surprised if you did. Tonight you look exhausted."
He is; he knows he has horrible dark circles, because he saw himself in the mirror before he left his house. He is fatigued and his strange encounter with Roxas has left him dazed. "Yeah, I'm pretty tired."
The man smiles politely and says, "Come on; Larx always has coffee in the kitchen. I'll get you some."
At this point, Axel thinks the blond man is his momentary best friend and he nods. "Thanks. I'll follow you into the kitchen."
Though he's taller than the man, he can't seem to keep up and when he pushes the door to the kitchen open, a hot cup is pushed into his hands. "Please, drink up; we had a pleasant conversation last time you were here. I'd love to see your ideas tonight."
Axel drains the cup and notices that it's perfectly bitter; he smiles in a very genuine way and nods to the man. "What was your name again?"
He smirks and replies, "I'm Vexen. And you're Axel. I figured you wouldn't remember me."
Axel tries to remember where he's heard that name before and why his stomach suddenly sinks to his shoes. It takes him several minutes, by which time his head is hazy and his eyes feel too wide. He gasps when he realizes this is the man Kairi was angry with.
"You're the guy who drugged me last week," he says. He tries to sound accusing, but he feels a little helpless and he wonders if it was like this last time too.
"Guilty as charged," is the reply, but Vexen's tone is sardonic and his laugh is chillingly slick. Axel backs toward the door and Vexen notices but doesn't move to follow. He only directs his full attention to Axel, and says, "You already belong to Roxas. I'm just making this easier for you."
Vexen doesn't strike him as a philanthropist, but he trusts in those words because Vexen really seems genuine about this. He wonders what the blond means when he says he belongs to Roxas, but his mouth doesn't work very well.
When he exits the kitchen, he sees a very large group of people in the foyer and as soon as he sits down someone hands him a bottle of something. His head's too fuzzy to read the label, and he's too preoccupied with wondering why only one dose of whatever Vexen gave him has made him like this anyway. He chugs it when the word cerulean comes to mind; he's sure it's not the name of the drink, but it sounds good enough.
He sees the Boy and he wants to kill the blonde bitch beside him. He's on the other side of the room, sitting at a table and drinking something that looks dark, like red wine. At a party like this. What a pussy. Axel has a bottle of Ce-ru-le-an in his hand, and he knows it's not called that but he doesn't really give a fuck. It's good and it's hard and it tastes like blue.
Blondie-blonde-blond meets his eyes and his lips curl up into a sly smirk; he drains his glass in one inappropriately large gulp (even Axel knows that's not how it goes) and licks his lips with the very tip of his tongue. He excuses himself to the blonde with antennae beside him, who digs her nails into his skin hard enough to draw blood. The Boy doesn't bleed, though he flinches, and he says something which makes the woman let go.
He glides through the mass of people like it's nothing-nothing-nothing at all, and his walk is so seductive Axel wonders if that's even legal. He leans his head back and gazes down his nose as the Boy comes closer, closer, closer; and then he's sitting next to the beautiful Boy and being suffocated by his very proximity.
"How do you like my party, Axel? You're not nearly as gone as you were last time."
"S gr-r-reat-t," he says, laughing because his mouth won't work.
The Boy laughs too, and it's so rich and se-duc-tive Axel can barely stand it. "Did you take any of Xaldin's pills," he asks, in a won-der-ful singsong voice.
"D-d-don't kn-now who Xald-d-din is, b-but th-ey-y wer-r-r-re a lot," he replies. His lips and tongue feel funny and he feels like he could ride on the wind and the Boy caresses his face.
It's only one fingertip, and he's only tracing Axel's birthmarks, but it's completely in-tox-i-cat-ing.
He makes a noise which sounds kind of like a cat's purr, and he laughs again. The Boy leans forward and licks his ear slowly, and it sends de-light-ful shivers down his spine; he turns his head quickly and catches Blondie-blonde-blond's lips roughly. As soon as he wraps his arms around the Boy he goes boneless, weak and pa-the-tic.
He hears himself make a possessive growling noise, and he pulls away only to stand and drag the Boy up with him. They make their ways up the stairs and Axel sees a fuckin' weird painting. It's all distorted and the guy's face is open in a permanent, silent scream. He shivers in vague fear, even though the painting is fucking awesome, and the Boy follows him obediently into a bedroom he vaguely recognizes. There are bookcases on nearly every part of the walls and black curtains covering the window, but he's not paying attention to them. Instead, he's paying attention to Blondie-blonde-blond who suddenly gains sus-pi-cious strength and pushes him onto his back on the bed.
But the Boy rubs his arms as if in pain, and Axel laughs because damn, but that's pa-the-tic.
The Boy looms over him for a moment and kisses him softly, all the while unfastening Axel's pants. Then he pulls away and his face disappears and he's almost getting irritated but then his whole body jerks because fuck, but that's hot.
The Boy is lying beside him, still fully clothed and looking cool as a fucking cucumber. Axel blinks, because suddenly everything dissolves into numbers and symbols and it's a-ma-zing.
"Ar-r-re we in-n the Mmmatrix," he asks, laughing because he's pretty sure they're not.
"Yeah," Blondie-blonde-blond whispers from beside him, and then brings his lips right next to Axel's ear. His breath touches him just so, and he jerks when the Boy continues, "And you're the One."
He laughs because the Boy is laughing, and then he realizes something so suddenly it almost hurts. "H—hey, you'r-r-re Roooxas."
"That I am," Roxas replies, and cocks his head. "How could you possibly figure that out?" The tone is sarcastic and Axel knows Roxas is just kidding. It's pa-the-tic.
"You alw-w-ways sm-mell l-l-lik-ke rose milk-k-k."
Roxas looks truly surprised, but after a moment shrugs and Axel is suddenly ir-ri-ta-ted.
But Roxas decides kissing is more important than talking and Axel com-plete-ly agrees.
He wakes, alone, in what seems to be a library. He's sprawled across the table in the middle of the room; the wood is a rich cherry color and it's pleasing to the eye but not so pleasing to his back.
He aches.
He sits up slowly, quietly; something in the back of his mind whispers for him to be. Careful. He feels like he should have a headache but his head is perfectly fine. He creeps to the door, and hears faint voices from somewhere beyond it; a man and a woman, and they seem to be arguing.
"You're on thin ice," the woman whispers. He thinks her voice might be nice, but she sounds angry and he's suddenly, randomly, terrified.
"Don't worry; I've got everything under control," the man replies. That beautiful voice sends shivers down his spine, and Axel catches a flash of cerulean eyes and fluidity out of nowhere.
"You always say that, but remember what happened last time?"
The woman's voice is soft, but dangerous and broken all at once and for a moment there's silence. Axel wonders if they've moved on but then the man replies, in a deadly whisper, "Of course I do. But that won't happen again."
"He intoxicates you,"she hisses. "You can't ignore that. I can't ignore that! I won't let you go if you're just going to destroy yourself. If you won't exterminate the nuisance, I'll do it myself."
Axel flinches at the hardness of the man's voice when he replies. "Don't think about it, Firefly. I would not hesitate to exterminate you."
"…You're an asshole," the woman says, but she doesn't sound frightened. "You think you could really bring yourself to do it?"
"Better to not chance it, hmm?"
Axel is struck by the tired sadness of the man's voice. He hears footsteps coming toward his door, so he scurries back to the table and sits, rubbing a palm in his right eye as the door opens. He looks up, as if surprised.
"How did you sleep," the man asks. Axel recognizes the voice as the male arguer, and it's even more beautiful up close. It sends a thrill to his chest and it takes him several moments to collect his thoughts.
"Fine," he replies. "Where is this place? As a matter of fact…who are you?"
For a fraction of a second, the man looks completely devastated; but before Axel can even wonder why, the look is gone and a pleasant smile has replaced it. "My name is Roxas. You are in my library."
"This…is all yours?"
It's the most beautiful room he's ever seen. It's incredibly large, and there are more books than Axel would know what to do with. He spies a section for books in other languages, and he's impressed; there's French, Finnish, Russian, Hindi, Latin, and several other languages he doesn't even recognize. He gazes around in wonder and breathes, "It's amazing."
Roxas looks pleased. "It's my greatest joy…next to my wife."
Axel looks at him curiously; the woman must have been his wife. But if Roxas wouldn't hesitate to kill her…then how can she be his greatest joy? "Wife?"
The laugh is silky, elegant, and warms Axel inside. "The lovely Larxene Anderson; the most beautiful woman I've ever met. Her mother was American, her father was Swedish, and she grew up in Russia. She's only been here in this place for six years. She tried to teach me Russian, but…I never quite got the hang of it, I'm afraid."
There's something strange beneath Roxas' measured speech; he can't decide if it's warm or cold, and those cerulean eyes flash fiercely for only a moment. Axel is unnerved, though he doesn't know why.
"So…those books are hers, then?"
"Yes." For the first time, Roxas steps into the room from the doorway. He moves like a ballerina, graceful and fluid. He moves past Axel and seems to exude the scent of rose milk from every pore; stopping at a shadowy section in the corner, he slides a book out. It's new, but worn; the pages are dog-eared and Axel can tell it's well-loved.
"This is my favorite," Roxas says, gliding over to Axel and sitting beside him on the table. He hands the book over and Axel's breathing stops for a moment.
The author is A. Blaze; the cover displays an old, gnarled tree. The title is "Oathkeeper and Oblivion;" Axel knows without looking at the back that it's about a broken promise and a broken man, chasing something he can never have.
He wrote it, after all.
"It's…uh…I've heard of it before," he says lamely, scratching his cheek in confusion. It's his first book, the only one he's ever published, and it didn't do well; no one has ever mentioned it to him before, and he doesn't know how to tell this beautiful, graceful man that he's written it.
Roxas chuckles. "Yes, I suppose you have, Mr. Firaga."
He thinks maybe Roxas just complimented him; he feels complimented, but that may just be because many people don't know about the book. He's not sure if Roxas knows he's the author, but he thinks he probably does.
"You know what my favorite part is? The beginning, just before Ren disappears. They…they have a bond, Alex and Ren. Something most married couples would kill for, and they're not even…involved." Roxas is gazing at something on the wall Axel can't see, and he seems…sad. "It makes me wonder what Ren was running from."
"She's not running from anything. She's trying to find something she thinks she's missing," Axel puts in, before he realizes Roxas really isn't talking to him any more.
"That's what she says. I suppose you'd know better than I would, but I wonder if maybe that's just what she tells herself in order to justify it."
Axel starts; but not because Roxas knows he's the author. He suspected that, anyway; but Roxas couldn't know about the conversation he had with Ren, two weeks before he finished revising. She told him she'd always been afraid of her own heart…and that Alex was too wonderful to trust.
"I…yeah. That's what she says," he murmurs.
"You speak with your characters?"
"I know, it's crazy. But I don't seek them out; they come to me and I'm helpless to refuse their demands. My parents used to think I'm crazy."
"It's not crazy," Roxas says, and when he runs his fingers over the back of Axel's hand he feels like he's more alive than he's ever been. "You're an artist. It's beautiful."
Roxas flips his hand over and runs a fingertip over the lines in his palm. He's never bothered to find out about palmistry, and he knows that's not what this is, but he's pretty sure it's not supposed to feel so…amazing. He's not sure whether every nerve in his body is jumping, or if he's more relaxed than he's ever been in his life.
"Your skin is very soft," the blond murmurs as he trails delicate fingers over the veins in Axel's wrist. His skin tingles and the touch makes him feel like Roxas is an old friend, but that's impossible because he's –
"I've heard of you before," he says suddenly.
The fingers stop for a moment and the man beside him tenses up briefly, but when he speaks, his voice is still the silky elegance he's heard all morning. "Oh? Where have you heard of me?"
"My sister and her girlfriend told me about you. My sister is Kairi and her girlfriend is your sister, Naminé."
Roxas sighs, and when Axel glances at his face there is a strange smile playing across his lips. "She's not actually related by blood, you know. Demyx is his parents' only child; his birth nearly killed his mother. I was adopted with my twin, Sora, at three; Naminé was adopted at six. We fit together, though, don't we?"
His breath hitches when Roxas' hand moves from his forearm to his jaw. "Y-yeah. You – do."
"Listen," Roxas says earnestly, leaning into Axel and catching his gaze. "I think that you-"
"Well don't you two look cozy," a woman says from the doorway. Axel recognizes her voice; she's the same woman who was arguing with Roxas behind the door. For some strange reason he knows that she is Larxene, Roxas' wife.
"Ah, Larx. Join us, will you?"
She shakes her head and smiles; it's more of a smirk than anything, and it's directed toward Axel. He feels, for some reason, that she's judging him; that she knows exactly how Roxas makes him feel, and she's amused. Her poisonous eyes narrow slightly, and she seems sinister…a force to be reckoned with.
She opens her pretty mouth, and the words which fly out are sultry and deceptively gentle. "I actually came to remind you that Demyx is coming to pick up his sitar. I'll be out for a few hours; when I get back, he'll be with me."
He waves her off. "Fine, fine. If you won't join us, then I suppose we'll have to leave the library; the light coming through the windows is giving me a headache anyway."
Roxas slides off the table, and glides to the door; he pauses to kiss his wife and murmur something into her ear. She snickers in a very unnerving way; but she gives him another kiss before leaving the doorway. Roxas beckons to Axel and he follows confusedly. The interaction is puzzling and Axel doesn't know if Roxas meant to make him feel the way he did.
"You can sit in the armchair," the blond says, waving at a stuffed pink armchair in the corner of the foyer. It's angled perfectly to catch the only rays of sun peeking through a narrow slit in the dark violet curtains; he appreciates the light, and also the view of Roxas disappearing through another door.
Moments later, he emerges with a tray of food and drink; Axel didn't realize it before now, but he's hungry. He hasn't eaten anything in two days and his stomach growls when he smells fruit.
"Larx made waffles before she left," Roxas says, setting the tray on a small table beside the chair Axel didn't notice when he sat down. "She's secretly very domestic; it's rather amusing. I hope you like raspberries and blackberries, because those are the only fruits I could find. That cup has hot lemon water in it; your face tells me you've not been sleeping, and I doubt you need caffeine at a time like this."
"Raspberries and blackberries are the best fruits I can think of," he says, mostly because he hasn't had fruit in weeks and he's craving something sweet. "I can't even remember the last time I had waffles. Thanks for this."
"What have you eaten in the last forty-eight hours?"
He frowns thoughtfully; he can't remember if that rice was on Wednesday or Thursday, but he doesn't want Roxas to know how poor he really is. "Some rice and oatmeal. I got caught up in a project, and I didn't want to cook a decent meal."
Most of that is a lie; if he had a way to cook a decent meal, he'd do it in a heartbeat.
"Liar. You didn't cook because that's all you have."
He's a little irritated at the neutral tone in which Roxas speaks, but mostly he's irritated that Roxas is right. "Why would you think that?"
The only answer he receives is, "Rice and oatmeal are the only staples in the kitchen of a starving artist. You're a bit too scrawny to hide that from someone who cares."
Being called scrawny irks him, but at least Roxas isn't mocking him. Axel remembers his words and asks, "To someone who cares? Would that be you?"
"I wouldn't bother to bring it up if I didn't care, would I?"
He's not sure what to say to that, but he suspects Roxas wants him to say no. Axel doesn't know if 'no' is really what he thinks, though, so he shrugs. It's neutral and noncommittal; he thinks Roxas will probably see through it, but he strikes Axel as the type who doesn't push emotional situations.
"I do care," Roxas informs quietly, resting his chin on his palm. His elbow is resting on the side of a green wooden chair, which looks very uncomfortable but Roxas seems unaffected and Axel decides breakfast is more important than thinking because he's starving.
After one bite he decides that Larxene is an angel in a very, very good disguise, because these waffles are heavenly. It might be because he hasn't eaten well in weeks, but he's guessing it's because everything in this house is perfect…including, he suspects, its inhabitants.
"I see you like my wife's cooking," the blond says, leaning forward and flashing him an almost devious smile. "That's something we have in common. I'm afraid I can't cook well; my…adventures…usually end with the screeching of the smoke detectors."
Axel's mouth is full, so he can't answer verbally, but he nods. As soon as he swallows, he voices something that's been bothering him all morning because he needs to know if it's just him being crazy again. "You seem so happy with Larxene…"
"Yes. We love each other very much."
Axel thinks his face is probably scrunched up in confusion but he can't see himself so maybe it's not, but something's wrong with his face because it feels weird. "Then what was…this morning all about?"
Roxas laughs and considering the situation it should put Axel on his guard, but for some reason it doesn't and he wonders if this is what Kairi was talking about when she said he has an effect on people.
"You absolutely fascinate me, Axel. You are antisocial and quiet, but not because you're unintelligent or shy; you watch and observe and you know when to keep your mouth shut. I've met you before…you just…don't remember. But as soon as you lose your inhibitions, you become a completely different person. You are amiable and unreserved, and yet you keep that creativity I see in your book. I love Larxene…there's no question about that. But she knows exactly what this is about, and though she doesn't agree, it's not because she doesn't approve."
He's absolutely baffled and his mouth hangs open, before he realizes he's still eating and he swallows so food doesn't fall out. He's not sure, but he thinks Roxas is telling him that his wife approves of…whatever it is he's doing with Axel, which looks more and more like flirting of some kind. "What do you mean by that? What is this about?"
"Don't worry; I'm not trying to…I think the phrase is 'get into your pants.' But I won't deny it; I want to kiss you again, and again after that." He locks eyes with Axel and the intensity of his gaze is both unnerving and amazing. "I want to spend time with you; I want to become much more than acquaintances. Larx's concerns are justified, but long before we got married, we had an agreement; she just doesn't like that it's you."
It's confusing and he's suddenly irked because not only is Roxas hiding something, but Naminé and even his own sister are being secretive about Roxas and he is so far removed from the loop that he can't even see it and he wants to scream, or hit something, or maybe take Roxas up on his offer so he can forget-forget-forget.
"What…exactly was this agreement?"
Roxas pauses for a moment and he looks to be searching for the right words; he sighs and Axel suddenly becomes anxious. In a flat, frank tone, Roxas answers, "We married out of…obligation. That's not to say we don't love each other; it would never have worked, if we didn't. She has something special that I need; and I have something special that she needs. She saved me, and continues to save me every day; but I promised I would keep looking, because she asked it of me and she is…my weakness. I find it difficult to deny her anything; it's part of our relationship."
"What does that…have to do with me?" He's puzzled and nervous and unsure of whether he wants the answer; but the question is out now so it's not like he has a choice.
"You have all she has and more; I know it is true because this is not the second, or even the fifth time we've met…but it seems that you never remember me. It is…unfortunate."
He frowns, partly out of confusion and partly out of anger. "So you want to…use me?"
"In a way, I suppose," Roxas acquiesces. "But, as I said, I am not aiming to take you to bed. You are different; you stand out in a way very few can. I am interested in getting to know you, but it is ultimately your choice."
"Why…why does your wife not approve of me," he asks, before finishing the waffle on his plate.
"You remind her of someone she knew long ago, and she is nervous. She is in no way sentimental, at least outwardly, but something very deep inside drives her to protect those she cares about."
The berries are gone now, and Axel watches Roxas gaze at something invisible near the middle of the foyer. His face is neutral, but Axel knows he's sad and frustrated and angry, even. He doesn't know how to react to this; Roxas is offering him something he's never had before and hasn't ever wanted before and he would say no but Roxas is intoxicating. If he can make Axel's nerves sing just by touching his hand, he wants to see what would happen if they were closer…and that's more than a little frightening.
There's a familiarity around Roxas that he can't place, and he thinks that maybe he has met Roxas before last night and one week ago. Every moment he spends with the blond makes him want more-more-more, and he chooses.
There's something intensely amazing about kissing Axel never knew about. He never quite understood why kissing was so special to people; but he thinks maybe now he gets it because Roxas fits against him perfectly and he smells amazing and it's something like a practiced dance, though he doesn't remember ever doing it. They're in another upstairs bedroom, breathing and moving and feeling, and it's nothing and everything and it all makes every kind of no sense at all.
He feels as if he's holding something precious in his arms, something that will break if it drops or if he squeezes too hard, and that may be so, if he's as sick as Naminé says. Roxas is relatively silent, but Axel isn't making much noise either and it seems almost sacred, what they're doing. It's not, and he knows it – Roxas is still married – but that thought slips away as soon as it comes because it's very, very hard to think.
Roxas does a-ma-zing things with his fingertips and his lips and his tongue and Axel's whole reality shifts suddenly and it's com-plete-ly in-tox-i-ca-ting. His senses attack each other and brawl in his brain and it's all he can do to keep from snapping. All he knows at this point is ce-ru-le-an and Roxas-Roxas-Roxas.
It's something possessive and forward and predatory that brings him back a little, because he knows Roxas-Roxas-Roxas is the same Boy he's been chasing in his dreams of forgettable reality, even though he doesn't know the Boy but Roxas is sick and breakable and even though it strains him and makes him physically hurt he calls off the monster threatening to break through and disconnects their lips and their chests and their beings.
He closes his eyes and hears gasping, and after listening to Roxas' heart pound rapid rhythms in his chest he realizes it's himself and tries to take deep breaths but fails because Roxas is still touching him.
"I…need…I need…"
"What do you need," Roxas breathes, and it's a question and a promise and something else he can't understand.
"I…space!" And he can still barely breathe so it comes out again, in a gasp. "Space, I need it."
It's only a few seconds before Roxas is lying on the opposite side of the king-sized bed, clutching his chest and gazing at Axel like he's the solution to all the world's problems. He knows he probably has the same expression on his face; he thinks he must look pained, though, because Roxas' presence is always suffocating in the most amazing way.
"Beautiful," he murmurs, and he feels strangely and almost inappropriately pleased that for once Roxas can only nod slowly and pierce him with the cerulean darts he calls eyes.
Roxas stretches out his hand between them and Axel does the same and even though it's only their fingers touching it's the most intimate (slowbreathsslowbeatingdontletgo) thing he's experienced, or ever thought he would experience.
A sudden thought crosses his mind and at any other time it might make him guilty, but it only makes him amazed that if Larxene is an angel Roxas must be a god.
Kairi calls and tells him she and Naminé are back in town, and he only has an hour to get ready so Roxas tells him he can use the bathroom down the hall. They haven't spoken since their sudden separation, and Roxas' voice seems hoarse even though he didn't sleep and Axel knows this because they looked at each other the whole time and he drowned in oceans of cerulean.
He vaguely hopes Roxas will join him but he knows that's not going to happen because Roxas isn't looking for sex or even sensuality. Axel doesn't know how he knows this but somehow it's clear that kisses, for Roxas, are the best way to find out about a person and somehow this makes sense even though it doesn't really.
When he steps out, he sees some of his own clothes folded on the counter; a pair of black slacks and a black tee-shirt, and he vaguely recognizes them as the clothing he couldn't find just before he started writing. It's disconcerting but he's not going to worry about it because if Roxas was telling the truth earlier then maybe he left them at some point.
He notices a design on the floor which matches the design on the ceiling in the bedroom and the design on two of the tables he's seen and he thinks it's beautiful but he doesn't know why. It's some sort of weird geometric nightmare and for a moment useless words like 'theorem' and 'postulate' run through his brain until he realizes he's still naked and starting to get cold.
He dresses and grimaces because there's a bad taste in his mouth – the taste of morning and spiders and fear. He's not afraid and he's pretty goddamn sure he didn't eat any spiders and it's evening, but he didn't have a chance to brush his teeth this morning and damn, how did Roxas manage that?
After a few moments he opens the door and pokes his head into the hallway. He sees a fuckin' weird painting – the man's mouth is wide open and it's distorted in most places and he vaguely recognizes it as "The Scream" from Edvard Munch. It seems horribly familiar but out-of-place but only in his brain because it looks perfect on the wall.
The man inside him beats on his brain and shouts and tells him he's being neglected and tells him to get back to writing because the story's not over and he turns his eyes away from the painting because his head is starting to hurt.
Roxas comes up in front of him and shields him from the painting's haunting eyes and seems to know how bad his head hurts because he doesn't say anything when he hands over a toothbrush.
Axel takes it and brushes his teeth with vigor and rushes to the front door and ignores his growing headache because he's used to them. It's a writer thing, he thinks, or maybe just an artist thing. He wonders inanely if Edvard Munch ever got headaches and then he laughs at himself because everyone gets headaches and it's not like he can go up to him and ask anyway.
Roxas walks up behind him and touches his shoulder, making his entire body sing a strange song in a foreign language which is becoming familiar but he still can't quite make it out.
"I'm glad you stayed today," he says softly. "I'm also glad that you will remember. I will look into the holes in your memory, and if at all possible, fix the problem. I'd like to see you again."
Axel opens his mouth and closes it several times, choking on air which doesn't really make sense but it does anyway. "I'd…love to see you again," he breathes.
"Will you come back tomorrow?"
"Of course," he finds himself saying, though common sense is telling him to wait for a while.
"Your sister will wonder where you are."
For a moment he thinks Roxas knows about the warning he got from Kairi and Naminé, but he shrugs it off and says, "The café is near here and…oh, shit. Um, well, it was nice to…uh…meet you? Except not?"
Roxas laughs that silky, elegant laugh which sounds mocking but is truly amused. "Yes. I'll see you tomorrow."
Axel leaves the house in a daze, and when he gets to the café he orders water and nothing else and says he's not hungry, because he doesn't have any money on him but he doesn't want Kairi to know because she'll insist on helping him.
Throughout the whole encounter he finds it difficult to concentrate, because he can only think of elegance and grace and silk and cerulean.
Ce-ru-le-an.
It's like a beautiful dream come true.