It happened so quick, Axel reminisces, faster than the speed of light. Bitter irony, oh, the bitter irony… He should have never underestimated him. Never mind his size, never mind that innocent look, never mind the fact that he had been so sure that his friend had known nothing dirty.
Never mind, never mind. No, nothing out of the ordinary.
He had done nothing wrong, he thinks, nothing worth being punished over. And he knew when he needed to be punished, he just protested anyways. But all he had done was stand against the wall in one of the many miniature alley ways that the castle provided with his eyes closed and deep in thought. His deeds at Oblivion were still fresh in his memory, and he constantly found himself wondering if he had really done the right thing in the end.
Never mind, never mind. It didn't matter right now.
His friend – his friend, and despite popular theory, nothing more – had paused in front of him on one of his many walks and just looked. Axel could feel the stare on him heavy as the sky, but at first paid no mind. If you ignored what was bothering you, it went away.
Oh, no. He was never one to just go away, the persistent brat.
When at least ten minutes had passed he cracked open one eye, green in annoyance (or was it envy? He couldn't feel either) to figure out what was wrong with him today, only to find an unusually apathetic stare grinding holes into his face. He wouldn't call it robotic, but it was different. Something that just wasn't quite right.
That was his first clue, but Axel never took warnings, oh no.
Silently, his friend walked forward, heavy footfalls clicking more than thumping in his hearing due to the echo-prone quality of the rooms. They were so close that he could feel the space between their coats, static electricity rising, but yet they weren't touching. Maybe that was on purpose, maybe not. He never knew.
Never mind it, though.
His second warning was the hand that reached up – ungloved – and touched his jaw, which immediately tensed, a muscle twitching gently. To move would be dangerous, he thought. This younger nobody would counter it, and he would be dead before he could even question why. Looking back on it, he could've prevented the whole thing simply by removing that hand.
Maybe he had expected it to stay passive, he didn't know. Maybe he had expected it to just slide away, lukewarm and soft like it had never been there, wouldn't even leave a print. He hadn't expected the grip to tighten at minute intervals, trained so that he wouldn't feel it happen, only notice it if he was dwelling on the past.
He had been dwelling too far into the past, and he didn't realize it until it was too late and he was yanked down, bowed over just slightly, lips pressed in a searing kiss. How could those lips be so hot (or was it so cold that it burned? He couldn't burn, he thought, but he was burning him…) when his hands were so ghostly? Never mind, never mind, but when teeth snagged his lower lip, pulled it in and bit hard, he had no choice but to unclench his jaw and let it open, letting an inexperienced tongue scrape against his, teeth clacking.
Maybe he had hoped that it would just stop there, but once again his shorter friend proved him wrong, seizing control and pulling them both backwards until they were against the other wall where he spun them around and slammed Axel against it at his level. His knees were bent and shaking slightly with the effort of holding his body at such an awkward height, and his eyes were wide open and confused until his friend broke the kiss.
His eyes were still that epitome of sad apathy, even as he twisted a long arm behind the redhead's back and pinned it there. That was when he started to struggle, though somehow he knew that it was too late. He had dwelled in the past too long, but never mind. Keep struggling anyways.
He twisted, snarled, fought tooth and nail and despite their size differences he was still conquered in what seemed like too fast, his coat undone and twisted around his arms, trapping him. The mistakenly assumed chaste boy yanked off his pants without even undoing them, taking a large, ripped strip and stuffing it into his mouth when he started to scream, to question and curse the boy's very nonexistence.
Never mind how it had gotten like this.
When he was flipped, his forehead collided with the wall so hard that he nearly blacked out, but Axel wishes that he had, instead of knowing what was coming and knowing that it was going to hurt, but still being surprised when it felt like he was being ripped open from the inside. He felt like he was being gutted to be used for some cruel examination later. Oh, it felt like an eternity before he was done, and why was it taking this long? He was so young, he shouldn't have this much control…
Never mind how long it took.
When he was done, he didn't even notice, though the gag was wrenched from his mouth, soaked with his spit and even some blood from what he guessed was a bite-wound on his lip. His arms were undone, aching from forced flexibility but in heaven compared to the rest of him. He couldn't even move out of the position he was in, for fear that it would just hurt more.
He could hear his friend pull his zipper back up, hear him start to walk away, and he panicked. Why had he done that? Why was he walking away? Why, just why?
"Roxas," he called weakly. To his surprise, the footfalls stopped, though he didn't know if the boy turned around. He realized that he really didn't want a reason, in case it would just shatter him more. In case it made him dwell too far back. "…Never mind," he said, and the blond just kept walking.
We were just friends, he thought bitterly. Best friends.
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This is MEANT to confuse! You are NOT meant to get it!