-Is shot for starting another MC fic-
I'm sorry. This had to be written. Absolutely had to. And it will be finished, and for now everything else is on the back-burner. Sorry gaiz D: Please stick with this one though. It's going to be a very good story.
And also, i'd like to thank Kunoichi21 for being, oh, i dunno, AWESOME, and giving me her AWESOME second opinion. I love you, :D
Anyway, i wanna thank you for reading, ahead of time.

"You're being an ass today." My twin was looking at me with innocent eyes. Fucking bipolar, that's what I say. She's bipolar. The conniving sister I have is not here today. She will be tomorrow, though, I'm sure. She changes her personalities like she changes clothes.

"No I'm not," I didn't even believe it. I glared through all the poor passers-by that dare cross my path. I parted the hallways like the Red Sea. They ran from me like I was the plague. Or maybe I was imagining it, whatever. They were still staying away from me.

"Come on, Roxas," She started being motherly. I inwardly groaned, because a snowball has a better chance in Hell than I do versus a motherly Naminé.
"Tell me what's wrong."

And that was the end of it. I'd end up gushing and she'd listen and then blackmail me, and I'd have to do something unpleasant. I refused to go down without a fight, though. You have to try, I mentally chanted to myself.
"Nothing," It came out flatly, lifeless, with no emotion. I decided it would be best if I ran the rest of the way to art class, alone. I'd have to explain to her, I could accept that. But not right then. It was simply not an option. I parked my ass at the back of class, even though I was almost ten minutes early and rhyming accidentally. I stared at the ceiling, doing my best to avoid my ass-hat of a teacher. Xaldin, God knows I hate him. He's a brute of a man who wouldn't know what art was if it bit him in the ass. It's like telling a black bear to teach an embroidery class.

I cursed at the structure above my head, willing it to fall and kill me.
I hated the building, with such a passion. This building, that claims to teach me, when really it's subjecting me to drunken parties and public humiliation.
Not that it's extremely unusual for me to hate something. I hate everything, really. Among those things there may be an annoying redhead or two. Say there is an annoying redhead, why do I hate him?

He's too nice.

He's not nice. Not to anyone. Except for me. He's a dick to everyone, treats other people like shit on his shoe and they all love him for it. But me, no, he's kind to me, and I find myself shocked that the word is in his vocabulary, much less that he can achieve such an emotion as kindness. It haunts me at night, not that I'd ever tell anybody that. Ever. No, I would never outwardly admit that an attractive, annoying, asshole being nice to me keeps me up at night.
That's what my problem was. That's why I was being so bitter and emo, because I'd been enrolled in this shit heap of a school for a month, and then he popped up and excused his absence in his asinine way of doing things. Two months later, I'm in hell. When he showed up I thought absolutely nothing of it. Sure, he's attractive, but it's out of character for me to look at the jackass of the crowd twice. I thought he was just another guy, that I was going to be able to ignore on any occasion. Two months later, and I'm living in hell. I get about two hours of sleep a night thanks to him, then I have to get up and drag my ass to all of my classes. And this morning, oh, this morning, well that takes it. No, I'm drawing the line here. Why, you may be wondering, was my morning so awful?

While I was showering, I had the absolute best sex of my life. It was with my hand. That's not the bad part, I'm used to that, I've been masturbating for almost four years. What was infuriating was that during that awesome hand sex, he was in my head. That's what made it awesome hand sex.
And I hated him for it.

That's crossing the line.
I've known I was gay, all my life, almost. So has Naminé. That's not the problem.

Imagine your worst enemy, your mortal enemy, climbing into your head and keeping you from sleeping every time you even bother trying for two months straight. Imagine that no matter what you say to him, he doesn't say anything terrible back, and you know he's doing it just to drive you crazy, to make you tick. Now, and this is just hypothetical, imagine he does it in front of everyone either of you may know. And you know he is just doing it because then they'll all say you have no valid hatred toward him. That you can't possibly have an excuse, because he's nice even when you're not, which is always.

I don't know about you, but it's obvious by now that he successfully and intentionally drives me insane.
And not only that, I can't even masturbate right anymore? After I got dressed, I decided it was definitely time to end it. If nothing can be done, I'm switching schools whether my parents like it or not.
I'm not spoiled.
But they'd rather pay to put me into another school than see me drop out. Hell, my parents would rather drink bubbling acid than see me be unproductive.

After another minute or so of internally hating everything and everyone, other people who hated their lives started pouring into the classroom. What did you expect, lollipops and rainbows? It's an art class, for Christ's sake. Nobody who comes in here is actually happy, we're all tortured souls, begging to escape. That should be obvious. I mean, looking around the room, there are two people who aren't wearing either a scarf, emo hat, or arm warmers. I mean really.

But, it doesn't really matter to me at all if anyone in art class is emo. I don't care about their hats, or their cheap wristbands that are just like mine, I don't care what their hair looks like. No, see, that's just a distraction. Because right now, all I truly care about is how much I hate Axel Moore.

All I care about right now, is how badly I just want to gouge his eyes out with my mom's good silverware. How much I just want to stab him in the chest and play in what's left over.

Okay. So maybe I'm a bit mentally disturbed. But when, during this narrative of my shitty life, did I claim sanity? It was then, in the middle of art, my phone started ringing, playing a lovely portion of a Mayday Parade song (*1) for the entire class. Ignoring the snickers from my various classmates whose names I still hadn't learned, and the plastered on Me-no-happy face my ape of a teacher was wearing, I pressed the phone to my ear gingerly and responded. It was a common response, an unenthusiastic "Hello," and a grin spread across my face at all the looks of pure hatred I was getting. At that moment, I didn't care much, because my favorite cousin was on the phone, and he was always capable of getting me out of a shitty mood.
"No, I'm in the middle of my first period art class," I responded when he asked if I was busy, with a grin splitting my face in half. Xaldin was walking up to me in an attempt to be intimidating, and failing horribly.
He stopped beside my desk while I ignored him, repeating "Uh-huh," several times before he cleared his throat and demanded my phone.

I nodded, and reached the comparably tiny cell out to his big gorilla mitts, and he promptly placed the phone against his ear.

"Hello, this is Mr. Strife's teacher," he introduced himself darkly with a cocky smile plastered across his face. "Yes, you see, I'm afraid you've interrupted my class."
It was quiet for a moment aside from some mumbling on the other end of the line, while the bear shuffled uncomfortably, and the rest of us watched with amusement. Was he...? Did he blush?
"No, that, err, won't be necessary. Yes, thank you." He clicked the end button and looked at me, appearing slightly traumatized, before walking back to the front of the class to "teach" us with shaky hands.
I made a mental note to ask Sora just what he said that got such a reaction.

After about an hour of listening to Xaldin drone on about things he knew nothing about, we were freed from our prison. I was the first out, having successfully forgotten about my shitty life in the midst of pretending to learn, until I was greeted by a fuming Naminé and it all came crashing back down onto my head.

So much for avoidance, I thought.

She was tapping her foot, insisting I tell her my innermost secrets. Can't fight fate, I suppose. I skipped the rest of my classes that day, with Naminé. I was shocked she was skipping. Hell, I was surprised that I was skipping. I usually just ignored that douche-bag antics of the redhead in my classes.

He took the same classes, aside from his beloved drama class. Meaning that either he was intent on stalking me before we met, or we actually had things in common. I chose to believe the former, because the possibility of the latter generally made me want to hang myself.

Knowing I was a trapped animal when the Naminé situation was in question, I confessed absolutely everything. From the first day Axel and I met, I spilled all of it, pouring it onto Naminé.
To my intense surprise, she didn't think I was ridiculous, she didn't laugh, she listened. She listened with a purpose, she was being my sister. I mean, I suppose it should have been expected, but the thought had completely evaded me. To think, that she actually cared enough to let me have this one moment, to just let everything out without having to worry she'd tell someone, it made me happy. It made me love Naminé more than I ever remembered loving her, and I knew that even when she was being annoying or unreasonable, there was that unspoken bond between us, formed when I let go of all my problems just once and let it all out.

"I think you should go talk to him, Roxas," She suggested with a calm, soft voice that I had heard very few times in our lives, with a reassuring hand on my shoulder. I wore my first genuine smile in a stretch of time that felt like forever, nodding my head, and set out to find him after offering Naminé a heartfelt 'thank you'.
Acting solely on a hunch, I went straight for the balcony in the drama department. Or, optionally, the big ass theater, which was the only very nice thing about the entire school. I gave myself a big pat on the back for guessing right, staring at the nearly hilarious view in front of me.

There was a table, covered in various assignments and scripts for the many roles Axel would play in indie films, directed and produced by his colleagues. And then there were crappy, plastic chairs with metal legs. One of said chairs was filled with a pale, lanky figure that had hair a few shades too red to look natural. It was snoring lightly, exhausted from it's studies.

I almost felt sorry for him, but not sorry enough that I didn't walk forward and slap him on the side of the head on my way to a decent looking office chair where I parked myself.
"What?" He grumbled a bit nasally, pouting because he was awake.
"Well, I thought you'd be happy to see me." I smirked, knowing this was going absolutely nowhere and nagging myself mentally to ask him why the fuck he's so nice.
"Why do you sound like Roxas?" Bless his odd little heart, he was still barely able to speak. I had to laugh, deciding that for the moment it was best to ignore the fact that he had my vocal sounds memorized. When I did, his head shot up, and he quickly wiped away his drool with a monotone striped arm. He was shocked, apparently.
"Why are you here?" He was looking around with a bit of panic, until finally he relaxed at the emptiness of the room, if that's what you could call it. His lowly tied hair was slightly a mess, and as if he read my mind, he took the elastic out of this hair and readjusted it. I pretended I wasn't watching.
"Why are you nice to me?" My eyes drifted across the frames of the glasses he was wearing, and then to the darkly colored diamonds hiding behind them, drifting up to his slightly darker red eyebrows, where a shock of silver resided on the end of one. Up to the lightly showing dirty blond roots of his cherry red hair. Axel was like a hipster, plus crack and steroids.
"Because I like you," the redhead stated obviously, with a charmer smile that I missed completely while I was lost in the ocean that were my thoughts after seeing a flash of silver I'd never noticed before when he spoke, and trying to fish for any logic behind what he said. I was oblivious.
"But, that, what? I'm a dick to you every time you speak to me." He shrugged bony shoulders before voicing that he thought it was hot.

Now, how messed up was this guy, for thinking that my being mean to him was hot? I guess I don't have room to talk on levels of sanity though, considering how much I hate the guy was getting me off.

Struggling with my words, my vocal cords shut themselves off, and I just sat with a blank stare, my mouth hanging open, then closing like a fish in need of water, while he inched ever closer to me across the sea of papers until his ass was completely out of his chair and his face was inches from mine.

I felt my eyebrows get heavy, and force the confusion onto my face without permission, while I searched for something in the stripes less than half a foot in front of me.

Then, suddenly, I lost anything I may have grasped during the slight banter between the two of us as I felt foreign breath invading my mouth, and while my eyes flew upward mid gasp, the metal I knew I hadn't imagined clicked on my teeth while a hand held my cheek in a way that screamed his experience in the art of seduction. As my mind relaxed, or went into a coma, same difference, my eyes slid closed and I lost all control of any muscle in my body. Especially the one in my mouth, that slowly started to massage Axel's, completely of it's own accord.

I felt him shifting slightly while he made his way around the table, and my body slowly unfolded itself out of the chair and against the metal rim of the cork table. And while my brain was buzzing and my throat was vibrating and I was struggling with proper breathing, my knees were near buckling as he bent me backwards over the scripts with words that didn't matter all over them. Just as I was sure I couldn't stand on my own anymore, he lifted me to sit on the surface, the crinkle of the papers shuffling under me assuring me it happened. I opened my eyes, but they only went about halfway up. He finally broke away for air, while I ran a hand through his hair, noticing he ditched his lenses somewhere along the way. Sitting on the table, I was about an inch taller than him, and his breath was coming out just as heavy as mine was, until slender fingers made their way into my shirt through the buttons I hadn't noticed were opened. That's when everything went to hell. I couldn't tell you what happened in the next 30 minutes, but I know I walked out with several new hickeys, and I got a lot of crazy looks as I attempted to make my way back to the small 2 bedroom apartment I shared with General Bookworm himself.

1; I've been listening to a lot of Mayday Parade, and Black Cat is the most up-beat song that gave me inspiration for the story. So, i figured, it should be Roxy's ringtone. :3