Roxas dragged his feet slowly, one after another, as he walked numbly down the sidewalk. Rain battered his face, drowning his unruly locks of blond hair, but he didn't fight against it. It was almost as if Roxas didn't even acknowledge it- but then again, he never acknowledged anyone anymore. Perhaps there was one flame in his memory that still existed- a flame that was slowly becoming an ember, a worn off memory of a beautiful extravagance that existed long ago. No tears escaped from the boy's dull grey eyes- they had departed long ago- only to leave the innocent teenager with a dull empty feeling.
Slowly Roxas raised his head to take in the block of flats he had reached. Mould grew off the walls, and the whole place had been washed a dull, uninviting grey. In all honesty, the whole place had a bleak, stagnant atmosphere. Roxas stuck in hands in his hoodie pockets. This was his home.
Closing the door behind him, Roxas ascended the stairs, pulling the hood from his jumper down low over his eyes to avoid conversation with any residing tenants that may just happen to pass by. Reaching his door, number 13, he fumbled in his pocket for a minute before pulling out his key and letting himself in. The air inside the flat was still, and the whole place was pitch black- the windows had been sealed and the blinds closed. From the corner of his eye Roxas saw a small red light flashing from a phone that resided on a table surrounded by crumpled newspapers and parts of tissues. Roxas dragged himself over to the phone and pressed the 'play' button. Immediately the phone flashed to life:
"Roxas! It's Axel! Hi mate, how's it going? Ibiza's amazing, you'd love it- the chicks dig you, whatever you are- yano what I mean mate!" Roxas heard a girl flirtatiously giggle and rolled his eyes. "So anyway, I'd better come back sometime, because I just know you're missing my amazing pizza takeouts. I'm getting on a plane in a minute, so by the time you come home from college I should be there. Sadly! These girls are majorly irresistible!" There was another giggle and an odd moaning sound, and then the message was over and there was silence.
Roxas stood there for a moment staring at nothing, absorbing the darkness. Slowly, he turned and numbly walked towards the bathroom. Once there, he pulled on the light cord that plinked a few times before casting a dim yellow light on the room. Clutching the sink for support, he looked at his own refection shown in the mirror. The gangly teenager watched his reflection take it in too: the increasing purple bruises surrounding his face, bloodshot dull cerulean eyes that were sunken and cast with shadow. His bony frame did not favour him, and instead portrayed him with a skeletal effect. Not even his own memories could be reflected in his eyes now.