A/N: Because I have an extraordinary lack of focus, HAVE ANOTHER STORY. And eventually I'll update my other one. (Read: Soon, promise.) Anyway, please do enjoy this little piece of gay-cake. :D
/
It could have been the lack of sleep, the paint fumes, or the excessive amounts of sugar in his coffee; he wasn't completely sure, but he was sure that something wasn't right. Seconds turned to minutes, and still he couldn't place it. No matter how hard he stared, he couldn't figure out what was wrong with his finished piece.
"Holy shit, Axel, did you ever go to sleep?" Only at the mention of his name did the exhausted artist finally turn away from his still-wet painting, coffee mug grip tightly in his long fingers. He took a quick glance at the clock hanging on the wall, his eyes burning with the effort of staying open.
"I think I dozed off for a couple of minutes around four a.m.," He replied, stifling a yawn, "But to be honest, I'm not completely sure,"
Axel Martinez was the definition of the starving artist. He barely scraped enough money together every month to pay his half of the rent, and it was an unspoken fact between himself and his roommate that, if it weren't for the fact that Riku was a giving, sympathetic best friend, Axel would probably never eat.
Of course, Axel wasn't a bad artist, not at all. In fact, he was incredible, but he had one small problem: He didn't exactly know what he wanted to do in the industry. Throughout his entire life, he had assumed it was enough to just draw whatever he wanted and eventually people would just throw money at him.
Apparently, life didn't really work like that. Who knew, right?
"Okay, what is it that's so important you didn't sleep all night to fin—" Riku stared at the painting blankly for a minute, looking for words, "You painted Roxas?" Axel turned back to his finished piece, the rounded face nestled among honey-colored feathers of hair, the two startling blue eyes that seemingly stared straight at Axel.
"What's a Roxas?" The redheaded artist finally asked, shifting on his stool to get more comfortable. Riku waved a hand at the painting, a silver and blue ring around his thumb glinting in the early light that streamed through the cracks in the blinds.
"That—it—him! That's Roxas! Sora's brother?" It was obvious that Riku's words weren't breaking through to his friend at this particular moment in time. He sighed and pointed towards Axel's bedroom, "Alright, that's it, time for bed. If I have to walk out here one more time this week and your ass is sitting out here hunched over a painting or sketch or even a goddamn coloring book, I'm going to kill you."
/
There were two brothers, living in an apartment complex not far from the one Axel and Riku shared who were in a very different morning predicament. One in which a certain blonde flat out refused to leave the warmth and comfort of his bed, even if it did mean free donuts. Of course, this particular blonde had a much spunkier, much hungrier counterpart, and he would not be missing out on free donuts. So he did the only reasonable thing he could think of.
He pushed his brother out of bed and was promptly the focus of a long string of mumbled profanities.
"In all fairness, Rox, I did tell you to get out of bed. Now come on, Riku's buying us donuts!" Sora bounced pleasantly off the bed, over his brother on the floor, who contemplated tripping him.
Roxas eventually dragged himself off the floor and to his perfectly organized closet. Each morning was the same process: stare at each article of clothing, decide what kind of mood he was in, and make sure it still looked good on him. Of course, this was after he meticulously ironed each item—this sometimes, but not always, included his socks. When he was done with all that, Sora would stroll in without knocking, complain about his brother being "such a girl about his looks," and continue on to remind Roxas that they only had so many hours in a day, and he was wasting them.
This was how their mornings went, and they rarely strayed from their pattern. It was more routine than clockwork, practiced since their early middle school years. Sometimes, of course, Riku would join in, giving his sarcastic comment every now and again.
Change didn't occur often in the twins' lives. Their parents were happily married for twenty years so far and they had lived in the same town since birth; even their friends didn't change much over the years. It was needless to say they didn't handle change very well.
/
"It's starting to get cold," Roxas mumbled as he got out of the car, the light September wind brushing through his hair. They were at a family owned bakery called Daisy's Donuts, Riku already waiting inside. It was a charming little place, if not a little fruity looking, with its pink awning and flower boxes hanging off of the windows.
"Have I ever told you that you complain a lot? I feel like I have," Sora grinned as he entered the donut shop, the bell on the door announcing their arrival. The smell of pastries and coffee filled the little bakery like a happy memory. Grainy jazz music played on the radio behind the counter.
"Finally," Riku spoke up from a table in the back, "I've been waiting forever." He had his hands wrapped around a still-steaming coffee mug, and the twins knew without seeing its contents that it was pitch black and bitter. Sora was unconvinced, knowing for certain that Riku had probably only arrived a couple a minutes before they had.
"Of course you were. You must have left so early to walk all the way here on foot and still beat us here!" The brunette cooed, obviously playing his friend's game. "And how inconsiderate of us to be so late. Riku, how could you ever forgive us?" The young man in question frowned, ignoring Sora and Roxas' chuckling.
"I don't think I can. I'll just have to leave without buying you any donuts." Instantly the twins snapped up, falling silent. Riku sat back, satisfied with his results and produced a box of donuts from the seat next to him. "Bon appetite,"
Sora and Roxas, of course, had to pay for their own coffee, after much vain persuading. Eventually the trio settled down into steady conversation, as they always did on their Saturday morning donut trips—"Expeditions in all things delicious," as Sora called them. The whole thing started when the three friends were in college, broke and hungry. Every week somebody else paid, in a cycle, to keep things fair. And since then nothing had changed, except, maybe, the twins' income.
Around ten, Riku looked up at the clock and finished off his second cup of coffee. Roxas followed his eyes to the clock, wondering if they were holding him up from something. Sora seemed to wonder the same thing, and took it upon himself to ask his friend.
"Ah, no I just think I should start heading back. My roommate was apparently up all night working on some…painting, again. I just don't think I can get my deposit back if he like, dies on the floor or something and rots into the carpet." Riku wrinkled his nose, trying to remember whether or not there was anything about dead roommates in his housing contract.
"You're such a kind, caring friend, Riku. Truly, I am inspired." Roxas deadpanned, clapping his hands slowly. His brunette counterpart snorted, hiding his laughter with a cough.
"You're still roomies with that guy Axel right? The artist?" Sora's question peaked his brother's interest, and the blonde perked up to lean against the table. Riku nodded and tapped his fingers on the tabletop, yawning.
"Yeah, ever since freshman year of college. Can't believe you guys never met him. Even in high school?" Riku tried to jog the twins' memories, "You know, tall? Spiky, bright red hair? Tattoos on his goddamn face? How did you miss him?"
Sora and Roxas exchanged a look and shrugged, not recalling anybody of that description. Riku found himself mildly annoyed by the bubble that the brothers kept themselves in. He'd never say it out loud, but he desperately wanted somebody to come in and rip them from their comfort zone. It was exhausting to pretend that nothing existed except for the things they wanted to exist.
/
Axel didn't wake up again until late into the afternoon, and then it was only because his stomach was attacking him from the inside, demanding sustenance immediately. The redhead tried to ignore it for a while, not wanting to put the energy into sitting up and rummaging through the kitchen for food, but eventually his roaring stomach won. With a heaving sigh, he dragged himself out of bed and down the hall to the kitchen.
"Riku! Do we have any food?" Axel called out to the seemingly empty apartment, staring into the fridge, not really looking for anything in particular.
"We ordered a pizza a couple of minutes ago, if you're willing to wait." Axel was about to reply when he realized that the person who responded to his question was not Riku. He snapped up so quickly that he hit his head on the fridge, a loud bang indicating how hard he hit. He blinked away the watery feeling in his eyes and rubbed his head, exiting the fridge slowly this time, before he turned around.
What he saw made him pause for a moment. He recognized this person. He knew those eyes, that hair, those pouty pink lips. Axel frowned—No, he realized, he didn't know this person. So what was this familiar feeling he had?
"Shit." The blonde stared, "Are you okay?" Axel blinked a couple of times, forced back to reality. The boy quirked an eyebrow, looking concerned.
"What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Didn't expect anybody over. I kinda thought you might be an axe murderer or something." The redhead grinned, holding out his hand, "The name's Axel. A-X-E-L, got it memorized?"
The boy laughed, shaking Axel's hand firmly.
"I think so. I'm Roxas."
/
A/N: WOOOO MAN. This is, without a doubt, the longest chapter I've ever written for anything. You can thank my lovely-dovely beta for the axe murderer bit, which I actually stole from her fic "Obviously." Go read it! And her other piece, "Got It All Figured Out", she's so wonderfully fantastic and she makes me write even when I don't want to. So GO LOVE HER TO BITS.