A/N: It was going to be a drabble, but then it sort of… grew a life of its own. Whatever. I suppose that this is what happens when I read too much angsty fluff. Oh well.
Disclaimer: KH isn't mine.
It was good for a while, what they had. Beautiful in its own way.
They were happy, both of them. The tall, cheeky redheaded collegian and the short angry blond Russian high school kid.
Every day after their respective classes got out, they would meet on a predetermined street corner and go somewhere to have a coffee or two. Maybe some sea-salt ice cream in the long, hot summer months.
It was an easy relationship, despite Roxas being as prickly and hard to pry open as a cactus. Axel managed the prying, being, well, Axel. He was probably the only one who could have done it, too. Even Roxas' closest friends had taken longer than two months to dig their own niches into his heart.
Axel was different, though. Radically different, what with his long, spiky, ridiculously bright hair and the strange triangle tattoos under the toxic-green eyes. It was fine, though. Roxas had always thought red and green were the best contrasting colors, anyway.
Maybe the brightness was what attracted Roxas in the first place and the reason he didn't protest when Axel barged into his life. In a ways, he was a very welcome change to the dullness. Even though life going from "dull" to "insanely reckless" in the span of a couple months may not have been the healthiest of things, Roxas was still not complaining. He was just glad he got to meet somebody as full of life as Axel in the first place. Such people didn't come along very often, Roxas knew, and he had to cherish every minute.
It was Axel who started it, really. He was the one that had randomly bent down and kissed Roxas full on the lips while they were waiting in line for ice cream one day. By the time Roxas' brain had registered what happened, Axel was already ordering for them and pretending nothing had transpired.
A couple of weeks later, Roxas had just about dismissed the incident as a figment, a hallucination of his teenage, hormone-driven imagination in the heat that day. Then Axel had knocked on his door and greeted him by kissing him and tousling his hair, then sauntering into the house Roxas shared with his twin brother and parents like he owned the place.
Of course, Roxas even began to get used to these strange and getting-more-frequent-with-time public displays of affection. However, he by no means believed he was anything close to "in love" with Axel. That was something purely reserved for the silly romantic novels that Naminé read in her spare time.
Roxas didn't feel at all like he was falling.
That was probably why he didn't expect his heart to break and be wrenched open quite so thoroughly when that event took place.
Roxas had been right there when it happened; it had all occurred in absurd slow motion for him. There was Axel's motorcycle- sporting a silly color scheme, dark forest green with cyan blue flames spreading from the front- passing him on the sidewalk, the driver of it stopping at the red light, twisting in his seat, and flashing him a peace sign and the patented Axel grin. It promised the redhead would be there in a few seconds, just needing to find a parking space.
Axel's attention was still turned towards the short kid on the sidewalk when the light turned green and the motorcycle started moving.
And then it stopped. Along with the rest of the world, for Roxas at least. A van had come careening down the intersecting street, managing to crash into the motorcycle full force, sickening crunching noises and all, metal gleaming and twisting in the blinding summer sun.
All Roxas could think was, We were going to that new record store he wanted to show me today and in Russian, you don't say that a person 'died in a car crash,' you say that they 'shattered.' Because that was a much more adequate description, really. That was what it was. Axel shattered. The blaze that he was had been extinguished by a mere car, of all things.
Roxas went numb.
The numbness helped him when he went to the hospital to visit, only to see somebody he barely recognized lying in a jumble of tubes and IVs and wires connecting him to the machines that were, presumably, the only thing keeping him alive. The numbness helped. It prevented Roxas from breaking down and crying for all he was worth right there. He would not cry over the irresponsible, stupid, overconfident, red-haired, green-eyed, caring, utterly beautiful idiot anyway. He wouldn't. He would wait until the jackass woke up so he could beat Axel up himself for being so careless that time, looking at him instead of the van coming towards him at breakneck speed. He would wait for his coma to end, even if he had to wait weeks. Even if he had to wait months. Even if he had to wait years, Roxas would wait. Even if Axel never completely healed, even if his bones didn't quite knit back together, Roxas wanted him back. And he was willing to be patient.
Every day for three years, Roxas came to what he swore was the sunniest and brightest hospital room in the entire building. He brought lilacs in the summers and irises in the winter, heather and the occasional rose in between.
Every day for three years, including holidays, Roxas came to that hospital room and sat there, talking to Axel's unresponsive body about miscellaneous, petty things. How the weather was that day, how school was going. Sometimes he paced about the room and ranted about problems he had.
Every day for three years, even after Roxas had begun local college, even during thunderstorms, even when it was too hot to breathe, let alone walk to the hospital, Roxas came to the room and sat in the guest chair always kept by the bed for him and studied Axel's features.
Every day for three years, even when Roxas' family and friends begged him to give up already, Axel wasn't coming back, Roxas determinedly went to that hospital room. Sometimes he sat for hours and sometimes just a few minutes. But he always went.
Every day for three years, Roxas barely got any sleep because memories haunted his dreams and he would rather be awake than face those.
And he didn't shed a single tear in three years. He just doggedly hoped and hung on for all he was worth to his memories and waited, endlessly waited.
And one day, when Roxas was angry at his college friend for some prank he pulled and storming about the hospital room complaining and not really paying attention to the stark white hospital bed, he heard a voice answer him back. A voice that was hoarse with ages of not being used but still held the old spark, saying, "You know, I feel really bad for your friend when you decide to take this out on him."
Roxas could only turn around and gape for a few seconds, rub his eyes and stare at the now-even-messier-haired person on the bed who stared back, attempting a wave with his newly-functioning left hand and wincing slightly as the joints protested.
It was only then that Roxas went over to the bed and slapped Axel across the face with a resounding crack, and started screaming at the redhead who sheepishly rubbed his cheek and seemed rather amused by Roxas' righteous anger.
It was only then that Roxas allowed himself to finally break down and all his emotions came back in a torrential downpour and he sunk to his knees, his yelling turned into shaky sobbing against Axel's chest and mutters of "damn beautiful green-eyed reckless bastard."
Axel looked mystified and asked, "How long was I out?"
"Three years. Three years, two days, seven hours, thirty-two minutes. Three fucking years, you asshole," Roxas near-whispered.
"Oh," Axel seemed subdued, only then noticing the lilacs on the bedside drawer and wondering if Roxas had brought them.
"Don't ever leave me alone like that again, or I'll kill you myself," Roxas mumbled, at last giving in to his exhaustion and letting his eyes droop and he fell asleep like that, arms loosely draped over Axel, kneeling in an awkward position next to the bed. In truth, he had barely been getting enough sleep to function on a daily basis in the past three years, and the sleep was a beautiful thing.
Axel observed his companion for a little while and grinned widely, ruffling Roxas' hair. "Don't worry, I won't."
When one of the nurses walked in about two hours later, obviously going to tell Roxas that visiting hours were over, Axel glared at her with all his might and she backed out the door slowly, scribbling something on her clipboard.
Thus it was that the flame returned to Roxas' life.
A/N: It was going to be a sad ending, but whatever. I guess all I've learned is that I'm a sucker for happy endings.
Also, yes, the Russian wording of "he died in a car crash" actually does translate better to "he shattered in a car crash."
In any case, I'll love you to death if you review!