Note.;;
This is the product of a write off ( random pairings matched with random lyrics for prompting ) with a friend. It was also timed, therefore it probably isn't as good as it should be.
KH is not mine.
Axel x Roxas
"Your words in my memory are like music to me."
"No one would miss me."
He walks away from you then. You hear the footsteps echoing in the classical dark and dank alleyway, having a melancholy ringing quality to their tone. He leaves you in the rain. He doesn't look back.
You're left there to ponder. You dwell in the newly-accounted for memories, swimming in words that weren't said, actions that were crudely unspoken for. The last remnants of your heated shout, the tainted whisper of your passion.
Gone, gone, gone, he was. And you were so far gone, too – you left with him, even though you physically did not leave at all.
"Roxas . . . is going to a better place, soon," Naminé said with a faint, sad smile lingering on her lips.
Axel looked out across the train tracks, the sunset's rays casting a liquid gold glow upon them. He held tight to the railing, clenching his fists around the wooden bar.
"You act as if he's going to die," He commented sardonically, not looking back at the girl in the white dress.
"Maybe he will," A hooded figure mused darkly, expression masked with a shadow.
"Shut up, Riku," Axel gloomily snapped, his shoulders trembling slightly with annoyance.
Naminé's pale lips tugged into a delicate, concerned frown. She entwined her fingers together and made them form a tent shape, regarding ( one ) of her captives carefully. "I didn't mean that, Riku. Soon, he'll find Sora . . ."
"I can't let you do that," Axel grimaced, his grip tightening. The wood creaked beneath the pressure; the tension was too strong. He relaxed slightly – not exactly wishing to take a suicidal tumble down the hill and in front of an oncoming locomotive. "I won't let you do that, Naminé. Let's make it like a game, shall we? A race, if you will. First one who gets to Roxas gets to keep him. I really like the sound of that game."
"I don't," Riku clipped.
"No one asked you."
"Leaving so soon?"
"I have to know why, Axel. Why did the keyblade choose me?"
Because you're special, kid. God knows and I know you're special.
"So you really don't remember?
"It's me. You know, Axel."
The blond stared at him dully, uncomprehending.
Axel drew a hand to his hip and sighed dramatically – long and drawn-out.
"Man oh man," Shaking his head of tomato-red spikes similar to a tsking manner, "even the Dusks aren't gonna crack this one."
Roxas' lip tightens to a thin white line. All the build-up was finally going to make him combust.
"What is going ON?!"
The keyblade was thrown and clattered to the ground in front of Axel. He didn't bother to pick it up.
"Man, who cares about the keyblade?" You groan, rolling your eyes in exasperation. It's your last attempt to restrain him from leaving you.
"That's stupid, Axel," He says, and he turns slowly to you for the last time in his conscious life, like a dream. "I do."
But you don't care about little old me.
"Maybe we'll meet again . . . in the next life," The redhead panted, trying to take his last (dying) breaths.
"Yeah," Roxas agreed. He finally remembers.
It's too late, kid . . .
"Funny," He coughed, "like I have a next life . . ." He dematerialized before the boy's very eyes. You did this to me. You cast me away.
You keep on searching. One day you'll find him. You'll look everywhere – Twilight Town, Traverse Town, Morehouse, or Nohouse. His words are in your memory, like music to guide you on.
"No one would miss me."
"That's not true.
"I would."