PROLOGUE

"I'm gonna kill him!"

"C'mon Cloud, don't be like that. I'm sure he has a good reason for it… Besides, you know how he is. I'm actually surprised you didn't see this coming." Sora said casually, manoeuvring the phone into a more comfortable position pressed between his ear and shoulder as he paced back and forth across the room.

"I'm going to gut him and stick his head on a pole… Push him off something high…"

"Cloud…" Sora sighed into the phone, rubbing his temples at his elder brother's obviously pissed-off voice. Riku looked up from his position stretched out across the bed reading the latest issue of some nameless teen fashion magazine. Sora waved a dismissive hand at him and turned to walk over to the window, leaning against the sill as he tuned back in to his brother's ranting.

"…Ungrateful little shit! He just can't sit still! You'll see, I bet he waited ten –no, five minutes, tops, before he left to go on the prowl for some middle-aged business man with a giant–"

"–Briefcase? Don't be such an ass, Cloud, he prob'ly got bored of waiting for you and left to get food or something to read," Sora turned at hearing a stifled snort from the general direction of his bed, and threw the dirtiest of looks at his best friend who was currently trying not to burst out in a fit of laughter.

Riku chuckled before retorting to his friend. "What? I'm sorry, but you don't know how stupid this conversation sounds from here. I haven't even met him, but I know how unlike Roxas that sounds."

"Shut up, you!" Sora muttered softly, growing increasingly frustrated with this whole conversation.

"See! Even Prissy-pants knows that he's an absolute pain!"

"He's our younger brother, and that is no way to talk about family! And stop calling him Prissy-pants, his name is Riku, you should know that by now. He's only been my best friend for, like, 6 years..." Sora snapped, huffing into the phone and then rolling his eyes as Riku let out an undignified 'Hey!' from his place.

"Whatever. Well I hope he doesn't expect me to pick him up from wherever the hell he ends up at, because I sure as hell ain't coming to his rescue any time soon!"

"Na, Cloud, you'll see... He'll show up here in a few days, just you wait. If there's one thing I know, it's my twin." Sora stated curtly, his voice wavering slightly, betraying his true state-of-mind. Riku stole a quick glance up at him, seeing him checking his nails in a nonchalant manner. To most it would seem that Sora felt confident his twin would be OK, but Riku knew this was just one of Sora's many nervous habits.

Riku was Sora's best friend, and had been for a long time. They knew everything about one-another. All of his secrets and little quirks… And in turn Sora knew everything there was to know about Riku. Well, almost.

Here Riku knew what was being left unsaid. He knew it, just as Cloud knew it. 'He'll show up, but God knows what state he'll be in when he does arrive…'

"My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard, and they're like, It's better than yours, Damn right, it's better than yours, I can teach you, but I'd have to charge~"

Goodnight Nurses' cover of 'My Milkshake' came belting out of the lime green slide-screen mobile phone that had seen better days. Its blond-haired owner glanced over at it, vibrating in its place on the dirty floor next to him, as the ring tone continued.

"I know you want it, The thing that makes me, What the guys go crazy for, They lose their minds, The way i wind, I think it's time… La la, la la la–"

The tone stopped as nimble hands with freshly painted black nails pressed the red 'disconnect' button. Moments later the phone beeps twice, indicating a missed call. Sliding the screen up, the owner scrunches his nose up in distaste as he sees the caller ID 'the Asshole' in glowing blue font.

He drops his head down low, resting against his knees, and sits silently for a few moments against the dank cement wall.

The loud honking of a nearby car makes him jump up and then shudder as he remembers exactly where he is ('The dirty, dingy back alley of some club, that's where') and how much money he has to get to where he's going.

'None, that's how much. Spent it on a deck of cigarettes and an energy drink, again…' He sighs and pulls out said packet of cigarettes from his pants pocket. Lighting one of the thin white sticks with his lucky '13' Roman Numeral-motif lighter he inhales deeply, letting the fumes settle in his lungs and feeling the nicotine in the cancer stick working wonders before exhaling. He takes drag upon drag before slowly standing up on thin, shaky legs.

Walking out from the shadowed alleyway he makes his way forwards until he is standing under the dim yellow glow of the overhead street lights lining the main road out of Hollow Bastion.

He turns his head slowly, not bothering to shake his bleached-blond locks from his face, and looks for any vehicle travelling in the same direction, before turning back and walking along the side of the road, sticking out his thumb in the standard hitchhikers' gesture and lighting up his second cigarette with his other hand.

It doesn't take long before a dilapidated old truck pulls over and the seedy-looking driver inside flashes a semi-toothless grin at the boy. "You headed to Traverse Town by any chance?" the man asks, resting his arm along the back of the passenger's seat. "Twilight, actually. If you're going by the highway you can drop me at the turn off," answers the boy, whose eyes scan quickly over the interior of the car, unimpressed with its contents.

The man chuckles before popping the passenger's side door open and patting the worn-out seat with his dirty hand. The boy stares at the man for a moment before shifting his backpack off of his shoulder and pulling himself up into the truck.

After driving a good twenty minutes in complete silence the man shifts uncomfortably and glances quickly at the boy, who is staring blankly at the road ahead of them. "What you headed to Twilight Town for, kid?" he asks, his raspy voice giving the boy goose-bumps up his skinny, pale arms.

"I have a name, you know, and it ain't 'kid'." The boy says with an expressionless face, never once taking his eyes off the road.

The man smiles what was surely meant to be an endearing smile and shifts his hand from the gear stick to rest on the boy's knee. The boy turns his head to look at the man, his ocean-blue eyes glowing hauntingly in the muted light. "Alright then boy, what's your name?" the hand slides higher now, up the shredded denim covering the boy's thighs, and he can feel the heat of the man's calloused hand burning through the thin material.

The boy simply raises an eyebrow and smirks as he replies, "Roxas."