Hope you like. This wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it. For sakurakasai
Indifferent
Axel writhes in his seat every time Zexion walks into the room. The footfalls send shivers up his spine, and his seeing his silhouette makes the Flurry of Dancing Flames grip the bottom of his seat with both hands. When the redhead feels the other's gaze on him, he feels that familiar knot in his chest, and stands up to follow him out.
Number VI is a master of illusion, and Axel can never tell when he is being toyed with.
But then again, he doesn't care much.
-
Zexion would find it funny if it wasn't so pathetic – the way Axel stares at him. The look is somewhere between I hate you and fuck me – and it makes Zexion's not-heart flare up in some semblance of anger, or maybe pity. He silently scans the room, idly noting the sound of VIII scratching the underside of his chair. So he turns around and makes his way to his room, knowing that Axel will follow.
Number VIII has no discipline. No tact. No respect. Zexion can never tell when he is joking.
But then again, he doesn't care much.