The air was unusually warmer that time Sora landed in Twilight Town. There was a certain, suffocating heaviness to it, and the humidity only reflected the weight he felt in his heart the moment he stepped foot on the ground Roxas once walked upon. It was truly, uncomfortably suffocating.
This discomfort left Sora feeling weak, one of few things Sora hated feeling, but this time around, Sora almost felt like he was welcoming the weakness overcoming his body and mind. He immediately blamed this confusion on Roxas, who seemed to be practically screaming inside of him.
Sora was upset, detesting the fact he knew exactly why Roxas was screaming- and what exactly he wanted so badly. What else could describe the odd, unexplainable anticipation within him, hoping, almost praying he'd turn the corner to find a certain tall, red-headed man towering over him. Let alone, what else could satisfy this intense craving? This twisted desire left Sora feeling sick.
This wasn't his wants, this wasn't his desire, he reminded himself over and over as the weakness washed over his body.
And by the time it took him over, Roxas' want became his own.
Breaking into a fevered panic, Sora began frantically running up and down the streets, looking, searching for this person who he swore meant nothing to him, fearing the fact he might not even find the answer to his heartache. What was he doing? Where was he going? ...Who was he kidding?
"Roxas!" Sora screamed back into himself at this ugly, weak, desperate part of himself. "Are you REALLY this Goddamn weak?! You're..." The tears that began to fall down Sora's warm cheeks were terribly bitter. As they past his trembling lips, Sora reached upward to wipe them away. He was startled to realize that the fingertips brushing the tears away were not his own. They were gloved, strong but tender, and they were touching him with a welcoming warmth to them.
"Sora..."
He cringed and ached at hearing his own goddamn name. Intending to look disapprovingly at the sweet lips that tenderly spoke the wrong name, he found a forced, but familiar grin.
"If you wanna beat the Organization, you can't be running around crying like a fricking girl. Toughen up and be a man, not a boy! Got it memori--"
"SHUT UP!!"
With uncertain intention, Sora felt his keyblade materialize, the grip solidifying within the palm of his trembling fist.
And with unsteady, fumbling fingers, Axel quickly knocked the weapon out of his weak little hand, sending it crashing loudly to the floor before replacing it with his own hand, entwining his their fingers tightly together. Within a second, Sora found himself pinned against the hard brick wall of the alley, perhaps about three yards away from the "usual spot" Roxas had spent some of his most precious summer days, but at that moment Sora had pressed up against him the most precious thing Roxas ever had.