Author's Note: Yes, I know what you're all thinking: Damnit it's another Kingdom Hearts highschool story. But I swear, there's a method to my madness. I've had this plot stuck in my head for weeks and it just won't go away. So, you're all getting a story. I predict it'll be somewhere around 15 or 16 chapters. Anyways, on with the other stuff...
Warnings: Cliches, Kairi bashing, alarm clock abuse, attempted molestation, slash, profanity, long waits for updates, and an author who's making this story up as she writes.
Disclaimer: No, I don't own Kingdom Hearts, but, if you mix around the letters of my name, it spells Disney. :D That counts for something, right? (nope)
Summary: After a traumatic childhood experience, Roxas is still honoring a promise to his deceased father: Be quiet. Don't make a sound until you're positive you're with someone safe. Years have passed since then, and Roxas hasn't uttered a word, but can Axel bring Roxas out of his silence and be his safe harbor? It's awfully hard to be friends with someone who's never said a word to you.
On with the story!
Monday, Axel was convinced, was the worse day in existence. Not just any Monday, but every Monday. This particular Monday, however bad it was going to be, started out somewhat routine.
At the designated time, an evil, corrupted device sitting on a small oak wood block that could barely pass for a table, sounded off. It was a shrill, unmistakable noise that could drive anyone mad, and more often than not, did.
It kept going, on and on, until the owner of the horrible monstrosity became aware that it wasn't going to stop anytime in the near future ---- on its own, anyways.
The left hand of a half-asleep high school student groggily batted its way through the mounds of black white and green material, finally succeeding in meeting open air. The hand wandered in the general direction the noise was coming from, until it came into contact with the corner of the wannabe-table; a sharp, hard, painful corner of a table. A sleep distorted profanity could be heard through the vast layers of sheets and pillows as the hand darted away.
It began again, after a few throbbing moments, to grope, carefully now, on the surface of the oak table. Finding it's target at last, the hand positioned itself, and rose up a few inches, before crashing down onto a silver-black button that extended from the top of the device on the table, silencing it. The hand slithered back into the warmth and safety of the blankets just as the object that had caused the whole mess cast the numbers: 6:27.
The process was repeated twice before the hand, along with it's partner, hoisted the body of the redheaded teenager they belonged to out of bed. The boy stood up, brushed some hair out of his face with his hands, and rubbed his eyes before taking notice of the time.
It was a rush, after that. Clothes were thrown on, teeth were brushed, and hair was patted down. Then, after a quick glance in the mirror, Axel grabbed his worn out yellow backpack, slung it over one shoulder, and all but ran out the door just as his blue alarm clock struck 7:33. School started at 7:30.
A pair of light-up sneakers, size eight, slapped again and again against the bright white tile floor as Axel hurried to his locker. As he strode down the hallway, he found himself to be thankful for the short distance between his house and Bastion High. He crouched down and spun his black lock around; pulling down on it once the right numbers had been visited. As he yanked open the dull gray door, the redhead idly wondered why someone as tall as him was stuck with a locker on the bottom row.
Once he put his backpack away and pulled out the necessary books for history, he stood, succeeding in banging his head on the bottom of the locker above his. He cursed at the person in charge of assigning lockers, whoever it was, as he rubbed the back of his head. Honestly, nobody of his height should have to deal with that. The teen tapped his locker door closed with his foot, then turned to walk down the bleak, empty hallway, towards a class that had started almost twenty minutes ago.
"Mr. Rose, you missed over half of my class today. That is completely, absolutely, unacceptable." The voice belonged to a slightly stocky man of medium height, who's long dreadlocks swayed as he spoke. He was currently dealing with one of his least favorite students, giving one of the same lectures he found himself giving to the tattoo faced teen at least once a week.
Axel, after looking up at his teacher with a black expression, gave Xaldin what he liked to call "The Look". "The Look" was a facial expression mixed in a careful balance of boredom, loathing, and arrogance. It was the look that showed teachers that the students couldn't care less about what they were saying, because, well, they didn't.
Axel was far, far more interesting in what he could see through the door, or, more accurately, who. Axel watched from over the shoulder of his history teacher, as one of his least favorite people got chewed out.
Top cheerleader, perfect body, excessive make-up, and designer shoes were what made up Kairi Hart. But, let's not forget the natural stupidity, the rich father that spoiled her, or the pathetic group of people that actually followed her around. Those were things to take into account, too. Kairi Hart was the schools "popular" girl; at first glance, anyways.
Axel absolutely hated her, for both personal reasons and what she stood for. These were just some of the reasons the green eyed teen couldn't help but snicker as he saw one of his friends, Namine, giving her an earful. He smirked as Kairi's face distorted into a disgusted expression as she spun on her heel and strutted away. Axel would have to make sure and ask Namine for the details to the whole thing later. Ironically enough, Namine and Kairi were distant cousins. Axel wasn't allowed to stay on this train of thought for long, however, as his attention was pulled back to the reality right in front of him.
"Mr. Rose! Listen to me when I'm talki-" the history teacher was cut off in mid-sentence as the obnoxious bell rang, signaling the start of second period. "Oh. Well, get to class then, Mr. Rose." The teacher said, almost mockingly, as he strode back across the room.
"But I'll be late!" Axel protested, taking a few steps towards his teacher. "Write me a note, professor." He instructed.
"Well, Mr. Rose, apparently you didn't care about getting to my class on time, so I guess you'll just have to deal with being late to another. Move along, now." Xaldin said, turned away from Axel as he greeted students that were coming into the room. Axel's gaze was threatening to burn holes in the back of his teacher's head as he strode out of the classroom, his entire body seeping in pure loathing. He may as well have been on fire, the way the remaining students in the hall jumped and cringed away from him. Nobody dared to stand in his path on his way to his locker.
A head of untamed, spikey red hair bounced as it's owner walked down the empty hallways of Bastion High for the second time that day, although this time he was equipped only with adark purple, eraserless mechanical pencil. Axel believed that taking Art was one of the smartest choices he had made in his entire third year of high school. All he had to do was daydream, and occasionally jot down a few stick people.
As Axel walked down the pale yellow walls of the hallway, he heard voices coming from around the corner. The closer Axel came to them, the worse they sounded.
"C'mon Mar, we'll get caught." Axel thought the voice belonged to a meat-head by the name of Luxord, but he couldn't be sure. The nickname "Mar" only added proof to the theory, however.
"Naw, the little whore's too stupid to call for help." Axel knew beyond shadow-of-a-doubt that the snake-like voice belonged to another third year, Marluxia. Him and Axel went all the way back to their fifth year in Elementary school, although they could hardly be called friends. A broken nose and a black eye had made sure a friendship wasn't going to form. Axel hated the pink haired freak with a passion. "Hold him." He heard Marluxia instruct.
Axel dared to poke his head around the corner, and was met with a somewhat surprising sight. Luxord and another one of Marluxia's gang that Axel couldn't put a name with, were holding the arms of a wriggling figure against the wall. The pink haired boy was leaning in close to them, whispering something in the figure's ear. One of Marluxia's hands, which had been on the figure's chest, creeped down lower, trying to force it's way past the waist strap of the figure's pants.
As soon as Axel had processed what was going on, he stepped in. "Hey, Marley-boy! You really that desperate to get in someone's pants?" The tattoo faced teen shouted across the hallway, stepping around the corner so he was in plain view.
Marluxia's head whipped around to look at Axel, but his gaze was met with a fist punched hard into his face. The pink haired teen fell on his back, sliding a few feet down the hallway. Luxord and the other accomplice loosened their grips on the victim as their gaze followed their fallen leader.
"Oy, Dumbo and Dipshit, go take care of your fuck-buddy." Axel glared at them with the hardest stare he could manage, only to be challenged with two conflicted gazes. After a moment, they moved over to their leader, helping him stand.
"Bastard…" Was Marluxia's only comment as he made a rude hand gesture at Axel, before turning around with his lackeys on either side of him. He soon disappeared from sight, and Axel then bent down to examine their victim, who had slouched down on the floor and brought his knees up to his chest.
"You okay?" Curious green eyes met an entire sea of blue when the small scrunched up figure lifted his head to look at his savior. The expression on his face could only be described as bored, or maybe nonexistent.
"Hey, Kid. I said, "Are you okay?" Axel only received the same expressionless stare as a reply.
A/N: Yes yes it's short, I know, the next chapter will be longer. Anyways, all reviews are appreciated, let me know what you thought!
