Like the Flames to a Moth.
"You can't turn on the organization! You get on their bad side and they'll destroy you!"
"No one would miss me…"
"That's not true... I would..."
You're surrounded by happy faces, joyous laughs and sunlit smiles. There's people swarming by the masses and closing around the enclosed space. Your eyes lower and your pulse races, blood sings behind your ears and moisture stings your eyes. You breathe a sigh not loud to gain attention but a soft sigh trying to will the now pounding beat that's colleted behind your skull, forcing its way out, away. You don't like the way people glance before turning away, raising a hand to their mouths and forming unseen words behind it. You don't like it, but you're used to it. Why try to stop it, try to prevent the unpreventable? Why should you subject yourself to more stares and hushed up whispers, mocking smiles and cruel laughs. You've got the people you surround yourself with, seeming to glow and keep the intruders at bay.
"Look at what it's come to. I've been given all these icky orders to destroy you- if you refuse to come back with me."
"We're... best friends, right?"
And then he walks in. Fire personified. Flames lick the back of his head and sacred emeralds glance across the room. Your breathing catches. He's looking at You. Not the sunny people or the malicious people but you. The forced pretender. He who wears a smile and laughs like the rest but has a cold soul and little heart to love with. He moves almost gracefully, as if in tune with his own music and stepping lightly to each beat. He stops to inhale deeply and once more dances. You loose yourself in the swirling red and green (the colours which burns behind eyelids and etch into brains) there's no one to see but him. You can look at the other people but in the end He is all you see (and breathe and live for.)You swear you've known him before (another life?)
"Let's meet again, in the next life."
"Yeah, I'll be waiting."
"Silly. Just because you have a next life."
He steps into your now lowered vision. His scent mocking you as each breath he makes crawls along your skin alighting over warm flesh and producing goosebumps. You turn your eyes upwards only to find his, memorizing the contours of your face and the light bouncing off your hair. The butterflies in your stomach protest against the involuntary hitch of breath. Your hands get warmer as they start to clam up. He speaks. His baritone voice speaking and forming new words to the music only just made. You answer back stuttering and tripping over words, desperate to keep this angel (tormentor) with you. Desperate to keep him by your side, making conversation with no real meaning and eye contact full of emotions frantic to be realised.
His larger but soft hand briefly touches your shoulder before going under your neck and tipping your chin up. You lean closer as to copy his movements. And your eyes start to lose focus and flutter shut. He sees the faces (all mocking now, all fake. Just like yourself you think) and leads you, guiding you out by the hand to a smaller space but without the prying eyes of the peers.
"I wanted to see him for the last time…he…he made me feel like I had a heart."
Once more your head is tipped backwards and your eyes close. As your nose brushes cheek and arms wrap around necks and bodies, breath intermingles and you realise something that you've never noticed before. You're Happy. Lips brush at first before pressing deeply into each other getting more and more passionate as his flames dance under your skin burning you and him this time. He pulls away and your eyes open. Harsh breaths interrupt the silence before his long arms wrap around you pressing your body to his as he traces patterns idly on your back.
He leans down and whispers words which ignite your emotions and fill up what heart you have.
You lean on his shoulder unperturbed by the way you stand tiptoes and whisper back. The smile you're graced with blanks your mind as your eyes try to draw and frame the image ready to show when lost in darkness. Another brush of lips leaves your breathless.
"You and I both miss someone we care about."
He grabs your hand proudly and walks back inside to the throng of strangers unashamed and uncaring. You stand straighter and your shoulders relax twinging slightly unused to being so loose but you smile small at first but as he turns back to look at you it gets bigger. Nothing can hurt you from the pretenders (so much for friends) to the cold and lastly to the disgusted.
He grips your hand tighter. He's there and everything's alright.
"See you, Axel."
"Ah, see you, Partner."
Axel&Roxas is Love.
It's from Roxas' POV.
Italics are quotes.
Lex =D
xx