Nemo Est

The day was etched from marble; bleached-bone white and still as an old grave. The sky was opalescent and the sun shone evanescently from behind clouds that looked as though they had been cut-and-pasted in from a different day. The Castle that Never Was lurked atop its pinnacle of empty space, as cold and bone-white and still as everything else around it, spreading its tomb-like silence over its whole world. Atop the castle, on a flat roof beside an open skylight, something not white, not still, and not silent sat and watched the pale gem sky, his black coat a stain on the perfect whiteness of the Castle, his shockingly red hair, perfectly spiked, a brilliant flare of defiance against the cold, monotonous, marble-etched world.
He was eating ice-cream, and was so distracted that he didn t even realize that he was enjoying it. Emerald eyes vacantly scanning the vacuous sky, he didn t even notice when he was joined by a second person, also in a heretically black cloak, who had sandy hair and blue eyes, but not a warm, enveloping blue like the sea or what the sky was supposed to look like; no, these eyes were blue like sapphires, and were just as hard, just as sharp, just as covetedly rare, and just as pricy; one could admire them all one wanted, but one could never, ever afford to have them to oneself.
Axel, have you been into my ice-cream again? the second person asked sternly, sitting next to the first.
No, Axel answered, licking the ice-cream pointedly, and if you don t like people getting into your ice-cream, you should get a private freezer instead of using the public one. You are the only person who ever steals my ice-cream, and you would sneak into my room if I put it in there. And there are things in my room that no one gets to see except me. the second replied sharply, blue diamond eyes sparkling cuttingly. Axel carefully did not meet that cutting gaze, aware that his argument wouldn t stand up to it.
Oh-ho, so that s where you keep it. Axel said slyly, then stuck the ice-cream in his mouth and smiled.
The second managed to look puzzled and annoyed at the same time. Keep what? he said.
Your secret stash of porno. Axel said, taking out the semi-melted ice-cream and admiring it.
What? the second yelled. Axel grinned fiendishly.
Porno. he said. P-O-R-N-O. Got it memorized? The second knocked the ice-cream out of Axel s hand and stood in fury. Axel rose as well, slowly, patiently, as though used to this kind of outburst.
Roxas, chill out. he said lazily. I was just kidding around. Don t get so touchy. Roxas did not look likely to calm down any time soon. He was fairly fuming, fists clenched, and sorely tempted to summon his weapons and have a go at Axel, who was still smiling easily, a mischievous gleam in his slanted eyes. You re an insult. Roxas spat at him, diamond-edged gaze slicing right through Axel s nonchalant demeanor. I don t know why I even put up with you. And with that, he turned to leave.
Aw, Roxas, don t start this again. Axel said plaintively, following Roxas down through the skylight and back into Axel s room, which was exceedingly flame retardant. I didn t mean it. You know I didn t mean it. I m sick of you! Roxas yelled, turning on his friend. Just shut up and leave me alone! And he stormed out, slamming Axel s door in its owner s face.
Jeez, said Axel, rubbing the back of his head, as was his habit when confused, all this over some ice-cream? His voice was still light, but his eyes showed signs of deep hurt.
There was a soft knock at the door. Um, Axel? came a voice; meek and shy, so unlike Roxas s harsh tone. Axel turned away from the door and went to stare out of his window, arms crossed peevishly.
Come in. he said, voice almost as coldly diamond-hard as Roxas s had been.
The door opened and someone stuck his head in. He, too, was blond, but looked rather as though he had been attacked by a flying vacuum cleaner, as the top of his hair stood straight up. He, too, had blue eyes, but they were soft and warm, like the ocean in summer, and seemed inclined to tears and joy. Um, hi. the newcomer said, stepping inside and attempting to shut the door silently; it closed with a loud click that made the newcomer jump. He, too, was wearing the long black coat that was the uniform inside the Castle.
What do you want, Demyx? Axel said impatiently, scowling at the glass as though it was its fault that Roxas had stormed out in anger.
Demyx jumped a little at Axel s harsh tone and immediately an embarrassed flush rose to his cheeks. Well, I, I heard yelling, and I wondered if everyone was . . . um . . . okay. Everything s fine. Axel told him, though this was pointedly not so. Although Axel and Demyx were not the best of friends, Axel was rarely so harsh to him, usually preferring to tease Demyx instead of just ignoring him.
Oh. said Demyx, Um . . . if there s anything you want to talk about . . . um . . . ever . . . I . . . um, you know where to find me. And he made good his escape. Axel stood for a moment more, staring out the window with an uncharacteristic scowl, before he sighed and shook his head, turning away from the window. He cast his suddenly weary gaze around his room, observing it like it was a stranger s. The room was large, and comfortable, and yet, there was something strangely prickly about it. Perhaps it was the smell of asbestos permeating the air, too subtle to be identified unless one already knew what it was. Perhaps it was the lack of personal items, or the morose and routine messiness. The bed was small and huddled against the wall, as though it was hiding from everything else. The bedsheets were dark black, in fact with small white stars dotted across them and a single, heart-shaped moon adorning the upper lefthand corner. Hidden under the pillow, face-down, accustomed to being looked at only at three in the morning by firelight, was a photograph. It was of Roxas. Smiling. And no one knew that Axel had it except for Axel himself, and he would prefer that it stayed that way. It wasn t, he told himself, as though he was in love with Roxas; that was preposterous. Axel had never loved, and wouldn t know love even if he was capable of feeling it; for, as he d told himself many times on many sleepless nights, a person can t love without a heart, that was obvious. So why did it hurt so much when Roxas turned his back on Axel, or when those diamond eyes cut right through his joviality?
Axel sat down on his bed and put his head in his hands. There was another knock at the door, more patient, stronger, more confident than Demyx s knock had been. Axel called, Come in! hurriedly wiping his eyes on his black sleeves.
The door opened. I came to say I was sorry. Roxas said, carefully emotionless. Axel stood and walked over to the door, but dared not get closer than three feet away from Roxas. Upon meeting the blue diamond gaze, he saw that the coveted sapphires were rimmed with red. Axel carefully chose to ignore this observation, and Roxas carefully ignored Axel s bloodshot eyes.
Hey, don t sweat it. Axel said coolly. I m thinking ice-cream. How bout you? Sure. said Roxas, and started off. Axel followed, closing his door behind him. It locked automatically, and wouldn t unlock for anyone other than Axel; a security measure instituted by Saix, the Organization s second-in-command, after a series of nighttime disturbances had driven Saix nearly to the point of murder; his fuse might have been a mile long, but once he was angry, Saix was a force of nature, and not one that could be easily pacified.
Seriously, though, Axel said, who was never serious in Roxas s eyes, sorry about the porno thing. Didn t know you d be that ticked by it. Forget about it. Roxas said. But you still don t get to eat my ice-cream without my permission. You re only getting any now because you didn t get to finish your last one. Axel grinned, though he wasn t really all that happy. Thanks, little buddy. he said. I owe you one. Like I said: forget about it. Just take the apology and get on with it. Sure, fine, if it means that much to you. Axel said, a little more than puzzled. Roxas had never been much of a ray of sunshine, but of late, he d been even more surly and distant than usual, not to mention that his short temper had gotten even shorter. Anyone else in the Organization would tell you that Roxas had just hit puberty and would be over it in a year or five, but no one else in the Organization knew Roxas like Axel knew him, and Axel knew that something was amiss. Not only was Roxas snappish and touchy, he was deliberately distancing himself from everyone, especially Axel, who was his only friend in the Organization; for all Axel knew, in the whole World That Never Was. Roxas, whom Axel had been getting so close to, whose diamond shell of secrets Axel had come so close to breaking through, was breaking away, for reasons best known to himself; and, although no one in the Organization was really his friend, persay, except Axel, leaving the Organization would make him eleven new, dangerous enemies, and one friend under orders. However, Axel was unwilling to break the truce so soon after a fight, and so kept his mouth shut and worried himself away on the inside, stewing over this theory and trying to prove himself wrong, but he was right, and he happened to know it, and for once, this was not a comfort but rather a hopeless disappointment.
Roxas, Axel said, finally unable to contain his concern any longer. Perhaps it was something in his voice that made Roxas turn around with that fiercely determined sadness in his blue diamond eyes, but Axel knew from that look that Roxas already knew what his friend was going to say. However, he let Axel say it anyway, perhaps out of kindness, perhaps out of cruelty. Don t leave. was all Axel could manage, suddenly overcome by the magnitude of the situation.
I ll leave if I want to. Roxas said defiantly, perfectly aware that the words hurt Axel and too full of hate already to care.
Please, Axel said, a word Roxas had never heard him use sincerely before, don t do this. You know how angry the Superior will be. I do, and I don t care. Roxas snapped, crossing his arms rebelliously, as though daring Axel to try and stop him from doing whatever he wanted. I hate this place, and I hate everyone here. Roxas, you can t mean that. Axel objected, deeply wounded. Roxas hated him? How could Roxas hate him?
I don t even know who I am, and I m sick of being lied to. I don t even exist. Axel punched him in the face. Then how can I do that? he demanded, so angry that the air temperature around him began to rise. If you don t exist, then how can I touch you? Roxas straightened up slowly, eyes flintier than ever. Did you forget? You don t exist either. Nothing hare really exists. We re just shadows, shadows with no hearts. You re talking crazy. Axel proclaimed, though he knew in his heart of hearts, or would have if he d had one, that Roxas was completely right; The World That Never Was, Organization XIII, and all Nobodies, didn t really exist at all; they were just shells, shadows of their former selves left behind. However, just as Axel knew all of this, he knew that he did feel and he did think, and therefore did exist, in one way or another. And, although he knew he was just kidding himself, he like to believe that he had a heart, and so did Roxas; he could care less about any other Nobody. But Axel, and Roxas, were Nobodies, and by definition didn t have hearts, and so shouldn t have been able to feel anything at all; however, they did feel, to an extent, and they were alive, so perhaps some afterimage of their hearts was still imprinted within them, or perhaps the heart had nothing to do with feeling, and a person, though without a heart, could still feel; perhaps a Nobody could love.
But Axel did not care about any of this at that time; he cared about the fact that he was about to lose his friend to a world of mortal peril and, worst of all, of forgetting; for Axel was certain that, if caught up by the wrong hands, Roxas would forget all about The World That Never Was, the Organization, and Axel, and Axel would not stand for that.
It s not like it will make any difference, anyway. Roxas said morosely, his usual pessimism kicking in. Suddenly, almost before the words had finished leaving his mouth, Roxas found himself in Axel s warm arms, being squeezed as though they would be torn from eachother forever if Axel didn t hold on to his friend tightly enough.
It matters to me, Axel said, voice strangely choked. Roxas couldn t see his face, but assumed that the strange quality of his voice was due to the strength of his embrace, and not emotion; Axel had never cried, at least, not in front of Roxas he hadn t.
It might have been that Roxas had been struck dumb by Axel s sudden display of emotion, or perhaps Axel was holding him so tightly that he couldn t breathe enough to speak. At any rate, for whatever reason, the two stood there for quite some time, an immeasurable time, silently, each unable to speak the words they wanted to say to the other. Then, slowly, hesitantly, Roxas put his arms around Axel s small waist and hugged him back.
Sorry, he said quietly, but I m going. And he broke away from his only friend and walked away. Axel watched him go, hot, salty sears still glistening on his cheeks. He stood and watched long after he could no longer see the retreating silhouette of his friend, immobilized by shock and grief, as unreal and out of place as the cut-and-pasted clouds suspended, frozen in time, in the bleached-bone sky. It was only when Demyx walked over to Axel and asked what was wrong that Axel turned away, and walked numbly back down the hall without answering. Demyx, puzzled, watched him go and then went back to what he d been doing before encountering the strangely taciturn Axel; practicing his sitar in the cold comfort of his room, annoying the endlessly pacing Saix upstairs and the quiet, withdrawn Vexen below.
That night, in Axel s exceedingly flame-resistant room, a photograph burned.