Author's Note: I'm not dead!

As many of you know, I have been on the LONGEST hiatus of my life and I totally understand what it feels like to not be able to finish a story because of the author and I'm so sorry! ;-; You know I deleted a lot of the other ones, because I've been writing on this site since I was literally 11 years old, and I'm almost 17 and can do A LOT more now.

So, here's a rewrite of a fic I did when I was 13! Whew, that was a long time ago about eating disorders. Many of you haven't seen it, because it was sort of a vent fic, and I actually had a secret account I wrote on just in case any of you would get worried. I'm getting old. (,:

Chapter 1 : Saved or Ruined?

I liked the coffee shop down the street better than Starbuck's because there weren't a lot of people there. An ordinary person, one that most of the people here would have a hard time relating to, would sneer simply because the place looks like a massive shit show to anyone that wasn't, well, me. Even the people that hung out here could agree on one simple fact: Andy's was a dump. What once was probably a pretty little painted sign in the 70s, was now so faded that unless you talked to the manager you wouldn't know what to call the place. Even the sidewalk was beyond the classified state of "repairable." Every little shop on this side of the road was that way. They'd have to tear the old stuff out and lay down completely new sediment.

When you walked in, it smelled like stale cigarettes and over the counter cough medicine. There were cigarette butts all over the floor, because nobody knew how to use an ash tray and I'm pretty sure Andy was slipping Lean in the coffee, when there was any. I kinda appreciated his enthusiasm. The inviting calm of the shop was the only thing that kept me coming back. This was my home away from home.

I'll reinvent my previous statement; I liked the coffee shop down the street better than Starbuck's because there weren't ordinary people there. The people who came here understood why, and that's why I liked them better than Starbucks, too.

Axel was one of those people.

I was in my Junior year of High School. So far, it wasn't any better than the previous two at all. I could try to lie and say I enjoyed school, like 1 out of 3 teenagers usually do to make their parents think they're not doing drugs. Twilight Town was a mountain town riddled with constant precipitation. We weren't completely full of prostitution and bad drug habits, but we were so secluded that there wasn't much else to do. It was normal for the average parent to be concerned. The other two-thirds of that percentage were either actually happy with their high school careers, or they were like me. I only had one friend who actually enjoyed her classes ( and her classmates ) but she was blessedly ordinary, and I smudged eyeliner underneath my eyes to hide malnutrition from my averagely concerned parents. There was a significant difference there.

My first day of being a Junior, was to say the least, not good.

I was walking down the hallway, probably seconds away from collapsing; nothing particularly unusual about that. My blonde hair was gelled up into spikes almost to perfection; Sora, my twin brother, complained that I tried too hard and I was making him look bad. We teased each other a lot. I had most of it swept to the side, with a little hill of spikes drooping towards the right side of my head and just the middle section of my hair side swept right over my eyes. In middle school, I guess I couldn't decide whether I wanted to take on the punk anarchist aesthetic, or let my inner text book emo really shine. Little me ended up deciding to go with both, and now it was just a bad habit I wasn't willing to let go of.

I could hear my thighs rubbing together. It was a pet peeve that I hadn't managed to stomp out yet. The hallways were intimidatingly silent, but anybody else would say they were noisy and crowded to the point where it was hard to breathe. I didn't see any of them. All I saw, was the distance between me and that tightly knit classroom I only had about 5 minutes to cram into. I knew it would only be so long before I ran into someone I knew, whether it was someone I used to call a friend or someone who would make my day just a little more "pleasant." I wasn't paying attention though; I was too focused on the incessant friction of my thighs grabbing at each other. Thighs were supposed to be a comfortable distance from each other, and the fact that they definitely weren't freaked me out more than I was willing to admit. I'd eaten one too many ice creams over the summer; it was irritating.

"Hey Roxas~" A voice full of hostility pulled me from my thoughts. My frantic aura slowly heightened into more or less, a heart attack. Seifier was the uncomfortable but reasonable neighborhood ass, as always.

"Hey." I replied briskly, quickening my pace as if that was going to help me get away. No one got away from him. No one worthwhile or physically competent. But I was neither.

I could hear the taller and more muscular teen's Steel toed boots clacking against the ceramic tile behind me, obviously attempting to corner me within the 3 minutes we had left to get to our homerooms before demerits were handed out. Lucky for me, he was unmethodical and lazy. He wasn't quite stupid and I'd hand it to him on a good day. My desperation to make a retreat amplified tenfold. I usually wouldn't be scared of him. Not if I didn't know I wasn't strong enough right now to put up a fight. But I did know, and it was mildly traumatizing.

"Have a nice summer?" I could hear the coy upturning of his lips masked behind me. His slyness haunted me with visible goosebumps. You usually got them when you heard good music or tasted Sea Salt Ice-cream for the first time, but not this time. These were the bad kind.

I clutched my Chemistry books closer to my chest. Knowledge was comforting. It was the only thing that made me feel separated from him, and also made me know that I was at least better at something than people who could lift 20 pounds with one arm or possessed good looks. I had neither of those. I used to have strength, at least. Of course, I'd like to lie to myself, but I would singlehandedly admit on any good day that I was physically meek and unattractive. I made mental illness look like it was contagious. If I sneezed in your direction, you were sure to begin contracting body dysmorphia and a calorie restriction complex. It was daunting, really, that I looked like I could be the cause of widespread contagion and apocalyptic terror.

"Not really," I mumbled apathetically. If I looked like I didn't care, I could hold onto a tiny portion of my pride. I dug my nails into the skin on my arm instinctively. I would take a fist to the gut proudly by any bully that had one original thought. Seifer was creative with punishments, but the source of his malicious intent were usually inspired by the Breakfast Club.

"That sucks, man. You know I care about you, right?" The taller and more assertive blonde wrapped his arm around my skinny shoulders and part of my neck, pulling me closer to his uninviting chest. If I had any bit of strength left in my skeletal frame, I would have kicked him in the nuts and ran but considering the possibility of me passing out after a 3 day fast, it was too risky. I may as well just take the ass beating while I still can.

A few snickers ensued from a girl named Fuu and a boy named Rai. I had no idea why they followed him so loyally. Supposedly, he was an admirable guy who saved the weaklings who won over his favor. I hadn't managed to, because in my "glory" days, we used to fight for Munny. Every summer, there was the Struggle Match, and me and Hayner would enter and always win. The fighting usually didn't stay in the arena; fighting for Munny was illegal anyway, so neither of us were too worried about getting into trouble outside of the ring. Two summers ago, we stopped entering because well, we stopped being friends. Then, I caught an eating disorder like a bad case of the flu, and bam. You have a friendless, weakened me and a bloodthirsty Seifer seeking to avenge his empty wallet. The outcome of this situation is obvious.

Or at least, it was obvious to me. Until someone I'd never seen before had Seifer sprawled out against one of the lockers faster than I could get a blink in.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" A tall redhead with a calm exterior grinned down at me. I could barely maintain basic human functions on a regular day, let alone in this situation. Was this my retribution? Was I on Punk'd? I had so many questions. Seifer was almost invisible to me at this point. Rai and Fuu stood there in an understandably frightened state, silently realizing the mortal peril in which they'd signed themselves up for. But I didn't sign up for this. I did NOT sign up for any of this. This was not on my class schedule.

"You're supposed to stand up for yourself, kid. Your friendly neighborhood Senior isn't always gonna be here to save your ass. C'mon."

I didn't even get to see the mortified look on Seifier's face before I was being whisked away. I was too shocked to ask any questions. All I knew was that my life was probably over.

The direness of the situation hadn't completely set in at this point. Here I was, wrist entangled in another, older boy's hand who I'm barely even acquainted with, being drug down the sidewalk of our school ( or my school. ) I hadn't completely decided whether this mythical creature was a visitor or a transfer or an actual student that I might have never noticed. But the latter seemed unlikely. I would have definitely noticed that hair.

I shook away my curiosity, as genuine as it was, and I decided to worry about more important things. School already started. I'm was being marked as absent, with a very pissed off Seifer probably mass murdering fellow meek looking bottle blonds in the hallways, in search of my corpse-like body to mangle it even further. Me and Sora's older brother Cloud, would be notified that I've been marked absent in a matter of minutes, at his job located more than an hour and a half away which will create a very pissed off Ex-Drill Sargent who would string me up in a tree and bludgeon me with a stick. I was going to die. And yet, I couldn't stop myself from focusing on this kid with flamingly bright red hair spiked back even more perfectly than mine, with the same matching black crap smudged underneath ( and on top I should add ) of his eyelids, seemingly dragging me away into the sunset never to be seen again.

What the fuck is going on.

It finally hit me. I stopped right in my tracks ( or his tracks, if that's the way you wanna look at it, considering I was being practically *dragged* ) and frantically slipped my wrist away from his velvety gloved fingers. "You—" I didn't even stutter this time. You'd think I'd be stuttering because I was a nervous wreck 25/8, but I wasn't. "You just did that. Why did you just do that? Do you know—" I was going into *fucking* panic mode. He stopped me before my meltdown really transformed.

"Hey. Listen." That smirk managed to sneak its way onto his face again. His green eyes lit up every time he looked down at me. I noticed things like that, like the way people's eyes glazed over whenever they saw a cute dog or their boyfriend. I couldn't tell if he was upset or happy to see me. I couldn't imagine why. I was neither of those things; he didn't even know me. "It's gonna be fine. I'm not going anywhere and you're coming with me. Got it memorized?"

"I was happy with my older brother and public enemy number one not wanting to slit my throat. But now they do. So tell me where you think we're going. Because I need to go back there or else I'm gonna die and it's gonna be all your fault and—" Another hush, but this time one long gloved finger caresses my lips. The inappropriate and slightly intimate contact was a little frustrating. He was staring down at me, lips still coiled tightly into a smirk I thought would never disappear. I wasn't finished bitching him out yet, not even close. Or at least, I would have been a lot more confident if his eyes weren't so feline green. And his lips weren't so curved. And he wasn't so tall and skinny. It was one thing to be short and swollen like me, but he was tall, like the Empire State Building with red hair. I calmed down enough to silently envy his oblique thinness.

With a thin grimace, I crossed my arms over my chest and decided to hear him out. What did I have to lose at this point? It was too late to fix anything. I knew I was a dead man already. Maybe he'd be the one to call the morgue. He saved ( or ruined ) my life so he should be the one to do it.

"You're coming to my place. You can't go back there, not until things blow over. I already got you cleared in the Main Office. And don't worry, if your older brother has a problem he can talk to me." He was a little too confident on that last part.

I shooed the redhead's finger away from my chapped lips, "You're not serious, right? I don't even *know* you." I scoffed, probably a little too snarky. I had a habit of being pretentious when I was upset.

"Completely." The signature smirk, it even possible, widened. His emerald orbs were glistening in what I'd decided was an uncanny persistence. I wouldn't exactly rule it out as a hamartia quite yet. "And the name's Axel. Get it memorized." "Axel", who I was pretty sure I was just gonna call "Catman" from now on, continued to walk ahead of me at a much faster pace.

"Okay Axel," I sighed, "Do you know me? There has to be a reason why you would rescue a random stranger in the hallway. Most people ignore that kind of stuff." I don't know why, but I wanted to trust him.

"Of course I do. You're Roxas. You never come to lunch anymore, you sit alone in the back of my Study Hall, and you looked like you needed a hand."

What the fuck.