The rain drummed upon the roof and wept down the windowpanes, filling the room with a flickering, grey-tinted light. The walls were built of cinderblocks, covered in a thick coat of white paint. The chairs too, were smeared with the stuff, looking like rejects from the coffee-parlor down the road that had opened last year only to promptly close due to lack of interest. Scattered about the room, sitting at the tables, or on the single sofa – white, of course – in the corner, were individuals clad in what could be pyjamas, what could be scrubs, or what could be some kind of penitentiary uniform. They were all identical, save only in size, and the hair of the individual wearing the uniform was the only thing that distinguished them from one another.
Roxas shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his jeans bunching stiffly behind his knees, wishing for the umpteenth time that day that he had tried to be comfortable, and not impressive. He had made an especial effort at looking nice that morning, combing his unruly blond hair to one side, and putting on his newest jeans, his cleanest sneakers, and his favorite hoodie.
A man sat at a table not far away from Roxas, his head nearly shaven, the uneven stubble proclaiming him a recent victim of trichotillomania... even though the tray before him sent up fumes of decent-enough-smelling food, he seemed to be disregarding it entirely, nervously running his fingers up and down on the roughened spot behind his ear where a tiny scab seeped blood. Across the room two people engaged in quiet conversation, and near them at the tall tables perched their friend, like a bird on a wire. It was a round individual – man or woman Roxas could not tell, as it's ragged hair was pulled into an androgynous ponytail revealing a face creased into a smile, plying quick thumbs over an electronic game. At intermittent intervals the laughter of the person would bubble over and it filled the room with a hollow, eerily echoing sound.
Roxas startled as the door opened, and a tall man strode through, his coat billowing around him, his keen darting gaze and analytical presence proclaiming him the doctor of the establishment. He caught Roxas' eye and pushed open the door behind him a bit wider, admitting an individual that shuffled in with his eyes averted. Roxas' heart leapt into his throat. The man was young, tall, and lean, the ward uniform hanging from his wiry form, his hands seeming large at the ends of his bony arms. His face, downturned, was pointed, and Roxas could just barely see the signature tattoos he bore on his upper cheeks, just below his eyes. His hair was wild and untamed, an unmistakably red hue...
"Axel," he whispered, as the doctor gestured to the young man, and pointed, and Axel slunk across the room, pitching himself into the armchair opposite the now unoccupied sofa, his chin nearly touching his chest, his hands hanging nervelessly from the armrests.
"You must be Roxas," the doctor greeted, coming over, and extending a hand to the boy. Roxas stood up quickly, overturning his chair in his haste, and winced at the reverberating crash the metal chair sent through the room upon hitting the concrete floor. He picked it up with a voluble apology.
"Sorry – yeah, sorry..." He set it to rights, and grabbed the doctor's hand, giving it a quick pump. "That's me."
"I'm Doctor Xemnas, head of the psychological clinic here. I understand you've come with some concerns about your friend?"
Roxas nodded. "I have no idea what is going on. I've been getting two different sets of information, and sometimes I think I have everything sorted out, but then Axel comes back around and tells me this stuff –"
Lifting a hand, the silver-haired man urged quiet. "Perhaps I can help."
"I hope so." Roxas' blue eyes shone – he was forgoing all his previous vows of playing it cool, of sauntering in here, of figuring out what in the world was going on...
"Is – does Axel –" He swallowed noisily. "Does he live here?"
"Sometimes," Xemnas nodded. "Only for certain prescribed periods of time. Other than that, he is generally lucid enough to maintain a fairly productive life."
"Lucid? Productive?" Roxas permitted himself a laugh. "You don't know him very well, do you."
"On the contrary." Xemnas' voice was calm. "We go back a long ways. May I inquire as to your connection with him?"
"What? Oh." Roxas laced his fingers together, trying to resist the urge to fidget in the uncomfortable situation. "I – we went to school together."
"Axel informed us that he had dropped out of school."
"Yeah, but I mean, he did a year at my school. Tried 10th grade, even though he's a couple years older than me."
"And, he dropped out then?"
Roxas nodded. "Said he couldn't stay put for too long. I really missed him. We were, you know..." He gestured helplessly. "...Close. We were friends. I was a loner and he could get me out of my shell."
"He certainly does have a personality, doesn't he." Xemnas cast a look over at the red-haired figure still slumped, motionless, in the chair. "-In his more lucid moments."
"You keep saying that." Roxas furrowed his brow. "What, is Axel – crazy? Is this some sort of insane asylum?"
Xemnas took a deep breath, leaning forward, and crossed his arms upon the table. His eyes caught and held Roxas's, and Roxas suddenly felt a pervasive coldness run throughout his entire form.
"Axel is delusional," he began. "He has been on a relaxed schedule in the past, but we've recently been making it stricter."
"Schedule?" Roxas' voice sounded strange, and it echoed about the room louder than he intended.
"He is released on a plan rather like a parole period. He is required to check himself back in for the duration of a few days every so often. Previously it was once a month, now it is becoming more regular. He is requiring more advanced care."
"Is his condition... degenerative?" Roxas was proud of himself for using that word, it sounded so professional, and enabled him to feel almost as if he was interacting with this highly-educated doctor as an equal.
"It comes and goes."
"What does?"
Xemnas took a deep breath. "He has told you of his work, no doubt?"
Roxas shook his head. "I mean, he has, but he always says he can't talk about it. Once he told me the name of..." he squinted, trying to recall, "'Organization Eleven', or something, but then he got all quiet. He says he can't talk about his work, that's it's sort of undercover. I thought that was cool."
The doctor's face was grave. "You know what this place is, don't you, Roxas?"
Roxas gulped. "It's a madhouse."
Xemnas chuckled. "Broadly speaking. It's an asylum for the mentally challenged. It has a proper name, but around here people mostly call it Castle Oblivion." He gestured, indicating the gothic architecture on the ancient building; Roxas shivered, the downpour outside only intensifying the eery effect of Doctor Xemnas' words. Castle Oblivion... What if this place was haunted?
"So – what is Axel doing here?" Roxas asked at last. "I mean he's crazy, but not, like crazy..." He trailed off, his eyes going still. "Is he?" His voice was tiny.
Xemnas met Roxas' eyes, his amber gaze disconcerting."Organization XIII is the name of his particular psych ward. Each ward is categorized like a number, and calling it an organization is tradition from the days when this building used to be a university."
Roxas' mind was reeling. "So, wait – but what about his job..."
"He thinks he is a member of an elite organization, and that his job is donning a black cloak," he eyed Roxas, "and being sent on dangerous missions with other organization members to kill beings which he calls 'heartless'."
Roxas could hardly take it in. Axel... Axel with the amazing hair, the fiery desire, secretive job, and arrogant swagger? The only person who could make him feel loved and wanted in the whole entire world? Delusional?
"So... He lied..." Roxas managed, his lips feeling numb.
"Not necessarily. I think he really believes these things."
"B-but they're not true?"
Slowly, ever so slowly, Xemnas shook his head.
Roxas looked again at the lanky figure sprawled in the chair, his hands swinging aimlessly.
"C-can I talk to him?"
The doctor hesitated. "I don't think that is wise. Generally speaking, with delusional patients, having something cross over from one world of theirs to another can prove detrimental to their health."
"But he knows I'm here – he saw me!" Roxas exclaimed. "I just want to talk to him, it's been so long..."
Xemnas rose, making it clear that the interview was over. "I understand. But patients are permitted personal phone calls in common areas, and at certain times in their rooms. Axel has never given us cause to believe that the possession of his phone will cause him danger while he is here. I would suggest calling him in a couple of hours."
"But he's right here..." Roxas whispered, fighting back the tears that once again sprang to his eyes. He wanted to run to him, to be caught into his arms, pressed again his lean, muscular chest, to feel where he belonged once again. Last time they spoke on the phone, Axel had said he missed him...
"I'm sorry, Roxas. I must move on with my day."
With a kind smile, and a firm handshake, Xemnas gestured to show Roxas he was to exit through the door whence he came.
Roxas felt his heart sink to the pit of his stomach and throb there, making him feel sick. He walked in a daze toward the door, then looked one last time toward the figure in the chair. He could just imagine Axel's green eyes boring into his, saying something suggestive and meant to make him feel uncomfortable. He could just hear his boisterous laughter when the predictable flush would spread over Roxas' cheeks...
Clenching his teeth, Roxas followed Doctor Xemnas along the white corridor, the florescent lights beating down on them and glaring upon every flaw in the cracked concrete floor. Only when he was safely outside the institution did Roxas let out the breath he was holding, feeling the downpour slowly seep through his clothing, mingling with the tears upon his face. He pulled out his phone and dialed Axel's number.
The clamor was deafening – students thronging to and fro, up and down the staircases, clanging in and out of lockers, shouting to each other, and generally making as much noise as was humanly possible. Roxas once thought that it was a big school, only to do some research and find out that compared to schools in cities much bigger than Traverse Town, it was actually quite small. Still, the amount of pressure that came from the combination of his classes, his peers, and his home life was enough to make Roxas wish he could move to a civilization with the population of 10.
Which ten people could come with him to his island he wasn't quite sure... he mulled it over in his head as he got into his locker and stashed in an armload of books he would not be needing for biology lab, retrieving his lab notebook and a couple new pencils. Hayner was always forgetting his, and after all, that was about the only way a shy person could keep his friends, right? By offering them pencils when they forgot theirs?
Roxas had known Hayner since he was younger than he cared to mention, but that was only because their mothers had been friends, selling air-fresheners together door-to-door since even before Hayner and Roxas had been born. Pence, Hayner's cousin, was also a crony of sorts to Roxas, but to be honest, Roxas didn't really care much for the fellow. Pence liked to talk about how funny it was when other people fell down, and stuff like that, and Roxas didn't really think that kind of thing was funny, and it got old once you realized that Pence really only liked to retell the stupid parts from movies. Olette was Pence's sister, and in 9th grade, a year younger than the boys, but she still tagged along with the group. And yet, among all the people crowding around him in the hallways of his high-school, Roxas didn't feel like he could name a single real friend among them. Maybe he should just downsize the population of his private island to one.
The commotion was partially due to the fact that there was a football game later, and everyone was all abuzz talking about that instead of paying proper attention to their classes, and partially because, as rumor had it, there was new kid who had joined the 10th grade class mid-year. He had just moved to Traverse Town, and he could hardly be blamed for his untimely entrance to the 10th grade class, but Roxas overheard Hayner telling Olette:
"And he looks like he's at least 20, and has these weird tattoos beneath his eyes. And you'll never guess what color his hair is."
"Red." Olette rolled her eyes. Ever since Hayner had this crush on a curly-headed carrot top in kindergarten, he had never been able to get over people with red hair.
"No – I mean yes, but this is red red. Like the Little Mermaid red. Like pee-on-the-fire-hydrant red."
"Ew," Olette wrinkled her nose. "Pee isn't red!"
"The fire hydrant is," Hayner shrugged. "And the redder it is, the more dogs want to pee on it."
"I don't think that's true," Roxas had interjected at that point. And then they had to hustle or they were going to miss math.
Roxas tucked his notebook and spare pencils under his arm, beginning to leg it down the now nearly-deserted hall, knowing he had better get to lab or he was really going to get it. He was in 10th grade along with Hayner and Pence, and, apparently, he just didn't have any classes with this new guy. He realized his error the moment he entered the classroom and saw the teacher facing off with none other than the new guy himself.
He seemed even taller in person that Hayner had described – he had to be nearing 6 feet of sheer lankiness. True to rumor, his hair was a blinding bright red, and styled into gravity-defying spikes all over his head. His wiry form was covered by a pair of ripped black jeans and a thin t-shirt that hugged his narrow figure, and Roxas lingered in the doorway, simply watching the strange creature argue with their teacher.
"Hey, just cool it, mom, I'm only sniffing it," he was proclaiming, lifting the vial of a corrosive acid to his nose and giving a whiff. "I'm tellin' ya, it really does smell like –"
"We will have no language like that in this classroom!" the teacher was exclaiming tartly, cutting the guy off before he could repeat a likely offensive description of whatever it was he thought he smelled.
"Just sayin'," he shrugged, replacing the vial on the table with ease. "What's this?" He moved to grab a square-ish looking device, and flicked the switch, causing a blue flame to spurt up from the upper edge. "Cool..." he muttered.
"Put that down at once, we are waiting for our final student to arrive before I will explain the proper use of these implements and we will commence our experiment."
"Hey, chill out, I love fire," he drawled. "I'm just messin'."
"What's your name, young man?" the teacher snapped.
"Axel, what's yours?" he replied lazily, putting the lighter down on the table and sending it spinning across the smooth surface with a flick.
"Ah – hm." Roxas cleared his throat. "I'm here. Sorry, you didn't have to wait up."
All eyes turned toward the blond boy in the doorway, regrettably, the long green eyes of the new pupil as well. Roxas felt like sinking into the floor at the way Axel eyed him up and down, like he was required to pass inspection, while at the same time he felt a strange nudge behind his stomach. This guy... was kinda... yeah. No. No.
"Hey, there, so who're you?" Axel began, sauntering over and tweaking a piece of Roxas' hair which stuck out over his forehead.
"Everyone, please take your seats," the teacher began, clearing her throat pointedly.
"I- I'm Roxas," the boy stammered, hardly daring to look up at the strange individual towering over him.
"Take your time, take your time..." Axel said languidly, turning and casting himself into a desk, his long legs barely fitting beneath the writing surface. "Good meetin' ya, Roxy," he said over his shoulder, giving Roxas a wink.
"It's Roxas," he murmured, hurrying to a seat two rows back.
"I like Roxy better."
"Your attention please." The teacher rapped upon her desk with her knuckles and the bemused titters that had been running through the classroom subsided. "I suppose none of you need to be introduced to our new 10th grade student."
"Yo," Axel grinned, waving generally around the classroom.
"Does anyone know what we're going to be doing today?" the teacher continued.
"Listening to you talk," Axel put in, and snickers ran around the room.
The teacher turned an odd color. "Axel, if you speak out of turn one more time –"
"What, you're gonna spank me?" He lifted his shorn eyebrows and pursed his lips. "Let the fun begin."
"Hey, will you shut it?" Roxas hissed, leaning forward and giving a tiny thump to the back of the red-head's shoulder. "We're all going to get detention."
The spikes of Axel's hair brushed against Roxas' arm as the creature turned his head.
"Oookay. Just for you."
Roxas felt a flush cover his face, but true to his word, Axel did behave himself rather well through the rest of the lecture and demonstration. As soon as they were released to find their lab partners, Roxas stood and stretched his back, looking around for Hayner, his normal partner. But he found his field of vision most effectively blocked by the towering form of Axel.
"Hey, Roxy, wanna be my partner?"
Roxas looked up. "It's Roxas, wouldja knock it off?"
Axel cocked his head, seeming to consider for a moment. "No," he replied, a gleam in his eye.
"Fine. Yeah, I'll be partners with you," Roxas huffed, seeing Hayner had strategically paired himself up with Electra, a pretty brunette who wore skirts much shorter than the dress code. Roxas wondered if he was being cut some slack since it was his first day, or if the ripped jeans and form-fitting t-shirt that Axel sported somehow fit within the loosely-upheld clothing requirements.
"So, what are we doin'?" Axel inquired, sauntering over and collecting the pre-arranged set of materials they would be needing.
Roxas stared at him. "You weren't listening?"
"Oh, I was listening." Axel gestured. "I just don't remember."
"How old are you?" Roxas asked, simply taking the instruments that Axel was fiddling with from his hands, half-fearful he would blow the place up before they could even finish their lab report.
"Guess." Axel cocked a brow, and again, Roxas felt his stomach twist, and his knees go a little shaky. He remained, with his arms crossed, staring at the shorter boy, the tiny marks beneath his eyes giving an animal-like keenness to his gaze.
"Uh... twenty-two," Roxas hazarded. Axel barked a laugh.
"How much of a loser do you think I am?"
"Well, you're obviously way too old for 10th grade," Roxas mumbled, running a finger down his page of notes. "It was just a guess."
"Hey, I drop school and pick it up when I want. Makes for a slower education, but hey." Axel thumped him hard on the arm, causing Roxas to stumble into the pair peering at their vials behind them.
"Sorry," Roxas apologized, glaring up at Axel. "Would you keep your hands to yourself?"
"Why?" Axel left his lips parted after the brief query, and Roxas sighted his blindingly white teeth behind. He tore his gaze away.
"'Cuz I don't like being touched."
"Aw, Roxy doesn't like being touched?" Axel purred, reaching over and tussling the blond's hair.
"Not by strangers." Roxas ducked.
"Wha? We're not strangers!" Axel exclaimed. "I know you, you know me. We're friends. Pals. Chums." He lowered his voice. "Partners."
Roxas felt his face heat up. "I don't even know how old you are."
"You quit guessing."
The teacher's voice cut through their banter. "Alright, you should be nearing the most crucial stage of your experiment, now. Please proceed with caution, and come to me if you have questions."
I've got a question, Roxas thought, glancing at the teacher, then back to Axel. How can I get rid of this perv that's my lab partner?
"Soooo," Axel drawled, lingering ever so slightly on the beginning of the word, giving it a seductive lisp. "What are we supposed to be doing?"
"Just hold this," Roxas grumbled, shoving the lighter toward Axel and bending over to consult his notes, when the paper was suddenly snatched from beneath his nose. He opened his mouth in horror as Axel calmly flipped to the back of the notebook and tore out a blank sheet, tossing the pad back to the desk.
He should have figured out his mistake sooner, he realized, as Axel flipped open the lighter and flicked it to a flame with a flourish, hovering the corner of the paper into the blue vapor. It caught alight almost instantly, and Axel dropped it to the carpet, squatting and grinning as the paper quickly charred.
"Oh my gosh," Roxas gasped. "Axel –"
"Relax, squirt. This is flame-resistant carpet. It's regulation. It's about as safe as putting it on a slab of -"
Axel's disclaimer was suddenly cut off by the girl behind them screaming, and soon other people joined in, shouting, "Fire! Fire!"
"-Concrete," he finished, standing, and stomping calmly on the burnt paper. Roxas looked around wildly as the screaming intensified, and the teacher rushed to the intercom, babbling into it that it had been a false alarm, well, actually, not a false alarm, but that it was being dealt with, when just then someone pulled the panel in the wall and the whole room was suddenly doused by the sprinkler systems coming on. Axel simply laughed maniacally among the confusion, and Roxas blinked and spluttered, a spigot directly over his head.
Needless to say, Roxas found both himself and Axel seated in the principal's office long after school hours were past. It irked him that he had to spend more company in the presence of this incredible troublemaker, and his discomfort was only heightened by the fact that he found he could not seem to keep his eyes off him. The older boy sprawled upon the bench, a slight smile creasing his well-formed mouth, his eyes languid and searching the room, seeming to catch Roxas at his staring every time. Roxas, in his turn, swung his legs, and tried to count ceiling panels until finally Axel burst out:
"Havin' fun, Roxy?"
"Rox-AS," the boy exclaimed, slamming his hands down to the seat and pushing himself up, wheeling and facing the red-head. "How many times do I have to tell you?"
"At least once more, Roxy," Axel slurred, shutting his eyes and smiling like the Cheshire cat. "Whaddya lookin' at?"
"Nothing."
"Me?"
"I said nothing."
"You meant me."
"Why would I be looking at you?" Roxas subsided into his seat with a scowl.
"Because I'm hot."
Roxas's gaze snapped to Axel's. "Y-you –" he stammered. Axel simply stared back, eyebrows raised.
"Y-you're prideful," Roxas managed, and Axel's laugh rang through the empty office.
"Probably. But you've gotta admit I'm right." He grinned, and stretched his arms, placing his hands behind his head and arching his back, emitting a small groan. "My back is killin' me."
"Why don't you leave me alone?" Roxas murmured. "You got me into a lot of trouble. Are you happy now?"
"It wouldn't be any fun if I let you alone, now, would it?" Axel blinked slowly. "You're too much fun to leave alone."
"Fun?" Roxas squinted. "What do you mean?"
"Man, for starters you blush like a rose. It's so easy."
"I – I –" Roxas blundered.
"Secondly, you're kinda cute. When you're embarrassed."
"I'm gonna call the police if you keep talking like that."
"What? A big guy ain't allowed to tell a little guy he's cute? What kinda world is it nowadays?" Axel exclaimed. "Just sayin'."
"Yeah, well, I don't like it."
"Fine." Axel sighed. "We'll change the subject."
"I don't wanna talk." Roxas tilted his head forward, fingering hurriedly through his hair so that it partially obscured his eyes. "Leave me alone."
"Aw, come on." Axel elbowed him. "Come out and play!"
"No."
"Little blondie's got himself a temper." Axel let out a low whistle.
Roxas finally burst out, "Why are you so – so –"
"So what?" Axel asked knowingly. The loud ticking of the clock was the only sound in the room, when suddenly the silence was interrupted by a rap on the doorframe.
"You two can go now, I'm locking up," the nurse informed them, switching off the lights. "But you know that this is enough to get you expelled if it is a repeat occurrence."
"Sorry," Roxas murmured, and Axel simply piped:
"Gollee, it's that easy? The last school I got expelled from didn't kick me out until the third try!"
Roxas stared. "What did you say?"
Axel shrugged. "I mean, it was a really lenient school. Full of druggies and sex offenders and stuff."
"A high school?" Roxas's eyes were wide.
"No, silly." Axel threw his hands in the air. "A middle school."
The nurse compressed her lips, and put a hand on Roxas's shoulder. "See you tomorrow," she murmured, and Roxas nodded.
"Yeah."
Axel just sauntered ahead of the two in the dimmed hallways, his voice reverberating around the hollow corridor as Roxas grabbed his backpack from his locker. "Ya know, Roxy, if I was you, I would figure out a way to just ditch school altogether. I mean, I've already been through 10th grade, most of it, at least, so we could just set up this private tutoring thing, right? We could meet at the pizza parlor..."
The rest of his words were lost as he threw himself against the door and stepped out into the blinding sunlight of the setting sun, leaning against it and propping it open for the nurse and Roxas to pass through.
"Thanks," he mumbled, and Axel nodded. "Sure thing."
The nurse headed out to her car, and Roxas twisted his hands, slouching under the weight of his backpack, and finally daring to look up at Axel who was peering down at him.
"Cat got your tongue?"
"Right. Bye, then."
"Bye, Roxy," Axel grinned, tweaking his hair. Roxas swatted him away.
"Hands to yourself, pervert."
"You know, I'm starting to like you..." Axel sighed loudly, hooking his thumbs through his belt loops, his elbows jutting out in silhouette. "Wel'p. See ya around, right?"
"Yeah, sure," Roxas replied, still standing where he was on the pavement, watching the lanky figure idle across the lot, the sun glinting off the red shards of his hair and seeming to set them ablaze in the gathering dusk.
"Yo..." he called to the world at large, sauntering along as if he hadn't a care in the world. For a brief moment Roxas felt a stab of envy that he couldn't be more like that, more carefree, more... He couldn't really put his finger on it. But it was appealing.
He turned his face away from the sunset and began to trudge toward home, resisting the urge to look back over his shoulder and see if Axel was still in sight. The entire way home he kept up an argument in his head, first telling himself how much he liked that guy, thought he was cool, wanted to be like him, only to counter that with replaying their conversations, Axel's embarrassing jibes, his mad sense of fun, and his general disrespect for everybody. At the same time, in well-matched measures, Roxas wanted to be noticed by him, to be his friend, to be his equal, while battling the wish to sink into the floor whenever those green eyes looked at him, or how he suddenly felt his brain go to mush when asked a question in that lazy lilting voice.
When Roxas finally reached his house, he slammed the door harder than was necessary, and heard the pictures rattle on the walls. His mom called from her bedroom:
"Roxas? Is that you?"
"Yeah, it's me," Roxas called back, already halfway up the stairs to his room. His mom poked her head out of the master bedroom, her hair in rollers.
"What on earth is going on? Why didn't you come home, or call? I called Hayner's mom, but she said you weren't –"
"I got put in detention with my lab partner because he was acting stupid," Roxas interrupted wearily. "Now, can I just go to bed?"
"Don't you want some supper? There's macaroni on the stove and some –"
"No, I'm not hungry."
He closed the door to his room a mite more cautiously than he had the exterior door, and cast himself upon his bed, burying his head in his arms and idly kicking his shoes from his feet. What was the deal...? Why did this Axel – whoever he was – have to waltz into his life like that and turn his emotions upside down?
The phone rang for an interminably long time. Of course, not literally interminable, or else Roxas knew he would still be standing motionless in the rain, listening to the dial tone, but long enough for him to get a hold of himself, which took much more time than he liked to admit. He was completely and utterly rattled – the fabric of his reality was shifting, stretching, and revealing those tiny holes that were always present in fabric if you just peered closely enough. That Axel could be unstable in the least he never would have believed. He always was the confident one, the one urging Roxas to simply do whatever he wanted, regardless of the qualms of himself or others, the one bossing him into what he secretly wanted all along, no matter how much he pretended otherwise. It was simply impossible that he was insane. Roxas trusted him. More so than any other person in his life.
His work – his work was real. He talked about it. Roxas and Axel had once played "Yes and No" about it because Axel was so hilariously secretive when it came to talking about his job. He brought it up often, but never gave any details until Roxas had finally just resorted to guessing. The answers Axel gave were not the answers of a neurotic mental patient, but the elusive, cautious replies of someone with a high security clearance. But the more Roxas thought about it, the more he realized that what he did know still didn't tell him very much about what Axel did when he went away.
Maybe Doctor Xemnas was right. Roxas clenched his teeth. What sort of imbecile was he, to be arguing with the head of Castle Oblivion? He would be locked up there too, if he didn't see reason soon. Black cloaks, killing 'heartless'... Axel thought he was some kind of assassin, a hit-man, a member of an elite organization of others like him out to do the world good. It sounded like something out of a story-book adventure. Or from the mind of a delusional maniac.
Roxas shuffled along through the puddles, the backs of his jeans soaking up the wet and slapping against his calves as he walked, his phone held to his ear with a shaking hand. At last a voice picked up.
"Roxy." The unmistakable drawl, with perhaps a little less vibrancy than normal, but still very much the person he thought he knew.
"Hey, Axel. How're you?"
"Good, good. Bored out of my skull." A laugh bounced around the hollow of the room, and Roxas shut his eyes, an image of the cells he had passed instantly conjuring itself on the backs of his eyelids. He pried his eyes open once again.
"Bored? What are you up to?"
"Sittin'." No further explanation. Roxas decided to go out on a limb.
"I saw you earlier."
"Yeah. I saw you."
There was a long silence, and Roxas found himself going back and retracing his steps over a particular piece of sidewalk, the pacing taking his mind off where he was going and giving heightened awareness to the sounds on the other end of the line. The scraping back of a chair, and then a noisy gulp of water.
"Sorry. I'm so thirsty today."
Roxas nodded, and then opened his mouth, realizing Axel had no idea of his gesture. "Really?"
"Yeah. Something weird... side-effect."
"Of what?" Roxas's voice sounded small, and he looked up, suddenly aware that it had stopped raining.
"Medication."
"Right. Is this the one you told me about one time?"
The memory came back in a rush; his mother had been gone that night, and Axel, lay sprawled on the sofa with Roxas curled against him like a cat, both of them completely ignoring whatever movie it was they had popped in intending to watch. Axel was staring off in space, his hand idly going to and fro through Roxas's hair, and Roxas had allowed his eyes to drift closed, vaguely wondering if complete happiness could be achieved through any other circumstance in life than this.
Roxas groaned quietly as Axel extricated himself from the tangle of his limbs and padded across the room. Entering the kitchen, Axel rummaged in the cupboards for a cup, which he at last seemed to find. Roxas could hear the spurt of the faucet and the increasing pitch of the water rising in the mug.
"Axel?" he murmured. "What are you doing?"
"Gettin' a drink, what are you doin'?" Axel had shot back. Roxas sat up just in time to see Axel reach into his pocket and toss a pill down his throat, following it with a quick gulp of the water. Roxas rubbed the sleep from his eyes and enquired:
"What was that?"
"What was what." Axel put his hands on his hips after thudding the cup in the sink and sauntering back toward the sofa.
"What were you taking?"
"Dude, can't a guy have a headache without getting' put through the wringer? Gah." He cast himself back onto the couch, jolting Roxas, who crawled back over to him and nestled in beneath Axel's arm.
"You never get headaches."
"Says who?"
"You." Roxas poked him in the arm. "You said so."
"Fine." Axel ran his hand through his spiky locks, bunching as much of them as he could into a messy ponytail with one hand, and releasing them to spring back into their usual rampant state. "It's a medication I'm on. For sleep."
"You have to take pills to sleep?"
"Yeah. Pretty messed up, huh?"
"Not really," Roxas had murmured, tiredness pressing again on his eyelids...
Roxas was jerked back to the present by Axel's voice in his ear. "Naw, this one's different. I told ya before, man, I do pills. Get over it."
Roxas ran a hand through through his wet hair and forced a laugh. "Alright. You – you take care, okay?"
"What a sap..." Axel groaned on the other end of the line. "What's gotten into you?"
"Nothing," Roxas muttered. "I miss you."
"Yeah, I miss you, kid." Roxas held his breath. "As soon as this stupid mission is finished, I'll come find you."
The boy's heart faltered within him, and he stopped mid-sidewalk, his feet simply refusing to go on. Axel had said... Axel was talking about... Suddenly, the realness of the situation washed over him like the surf on Destiny Islands, where he had once gone on vacation with his mom.
"Roxy?"
"Yeah," he said hurriedly, forcing his steps forward.
"Ya there?"
"Yeah." Roxas's mind willed for his tongue to come up with a further reply, but nothing came out.
"I'll come back soon."
"I'll be waiting," was all Roxas said, and then he had to hang up. It was just too much. Roxas felt his knees begin to give way, and he slumped to a seat on the curb, his feet splashing down into the murky water collected in the gutter. His head drooped forward until he was relegated to holding it up with his hands, his forgotten cell-phone pressing into his forehead. The passing of cars that flung brownish spray from the streets in their wake did not disturb him, as he sat quietly, shaking like a leaf, and expending a few more silent tears on the behalf of his maladjusted friend.
A/N: I am not sure whether to make this just a one-shot or to make it a full-length story...