The Fantasy
.It's Christmas Eve.
Roxas's eyes slid shut as the Christmas tree that's over sixty feet tall glimmered brightly before him. Who'd think it'd come to this? Saint Nicholas would be making his rounds in only a few minutes, and Roxas was celebrating the holiday alone, sitting in the town square – the lights in shops were flickering out in preparation for the oncoming day and soon even the giant tree would have its lights extinguished in favor of celebrating the quiet passing of one day to another.
He was supposed to be at his boyfriend's house, was supposed to be sitting with Axel; they would be nibbling chocolate chip cookies in anticipation, licking their lips and glancing at one another as they waited for midnight to strike. Because then Axel would become Santa Clause and give Roxas his annual warmth and love and the renewal of all things right with their world. Not now, though.
With age comes separation and Axel in college obviously let the old rule of "out of sight, out of mind" stand before the jury that was Roxas with no worries of being called out as "guilty".
Axel really was gentle about the break-up, though. In the end, both held onto the hope that they might be friends – and the relationship has been nothing except awkward, which Roxas found stupid with three months gone by.
It was hard at first, and now it's damn near unbearable with Christmas and no-longer used traditions looming over him like ghosts of a past far too degraded and gone.
He thought he might break, just crumple in front of the tree and wait for the magical hour of goodwill and winter's finest to be over and done with. To celebrate Christmas alone seemed taboo, and the silence cloaked him in too cold arms as white flakes drifted down.
The snow sparkled as it fell, and Roxas remembered yet another Christmas shared with the red-head, of the first time it snowed, the first time Roxas experienced snow – when they were still best friends not yet pushed into a relationship by their peers, and Roxas had yelped at the feeling of snow smacking into his back, barely warm in his thin t-shirt.
It had been a dry winter, which meant that temperatures were bearable in t-shirts and shorts and such from generally ten in the morning until about five at night. Roxas had only just moved there in the autumn, and the cocky, confident Axel had quickly taken the other underneath his wing. Of course, it hadn't been just Axel, but it seemed like only he mattered, right now.
Roxas certainly didn't matter, somehow having settled down onto the snow-piled ground, sinking in it up to his waist. Now, it was a humid winter, with winds blowing often during the days, and even in his fur-like parka Roxas felt cold. He puffed out air, and watched it fade into mist and then nothing. He was content, to sit like that. Crushed was not a word that could describe him; more along the lines of not content. Somewhat sad.
He wondered if Sora knew where he was.
The brunet had been sticking close to him ever since Axel had called it off, to the point that he heard Kairi and Riku (his best friends in the whole wide world, so let it be known and acknowledged) interrogating Sora and hinting that it might be best to leave Roxas be. Roxas's grades had dropped, his voice had become weak, and it seemed like all the life was sucked out of his actions. His mother told him to suck it up (a realistic person who hadn't dwelled even after her divorce to Roxas's father), and others expressed sympathy.
High school love was hard, and teenagers were at that time where if they broke up with someone, the whole world officially could go fuck itself. Which is basically what had happened with Roxas – Axel had been motivation, and Roxas felt nothing without him. The spectrum that was humanity had bled out of his vision, to where everything was light and darkness.
Sora had been succeeding in adding some color back to Roxas's life though, in a way that others couldn't. When they helped him, the hues they added to his black-and-white view often were faded and worn, half-attempted and half-assed. Human beings (not counting Sora because he was some little mutant alien – no one could be that peppy and happy) were egotistical and worried only about themselves in the long haul. They might scavenge around the ruins that were Roxas, searching for something worth saving, but they'd leave with nothing, because it might compromise their lives.
Roxas snorted, and withdrew out of his mind long enough to hear the gentle whoosh of breath that wasn't his. His head jerked up and around to come face-to-jean-enclosed-knees with – and here his head tipped backward far enough that his whole neck was revealed as he struggled not to simply fall down – Sora. Roxas blinked once in surprise and the other smiled, pulling one hand out of his hoodie's joined pockets to bop Roxas gently on the nose.
Then Sora was crouched down beside him, hesitantly tapping the snow to see its depth, before plopping down to where he was sitting Indian-style beside Roxas. His face flattened out into an expressionless mask and he settled his face on one palm, elbow propped up on his knee. For a few seconds, the two boys simply stared at one another.
It was rare to find Sora sitting still, even rarer to find him not bubbling with excitement and goodwill. Honestly, the staring freaked Roxas out, and his back shivered in what might have been both pleasure (because Sora's company was always pleasant) and anxiety. Finally, he could take it no longer, and he spoke with a tone that was sharper than he would have liked.
"What?" Stop staring at me.
A ringing silence and Roxas wondered if he'd disturbed something sacred.
"Sora, what is it?" Don't fuck with me.
It deepened, that lacking of noise, the bubble that existed in every way except physically. He was suffocating.
"Sora, what the fu—"
He was cut off, abruptly, as Sora frowned for a half-second before lunging forward and slamming one palm across Roxas's mouth. The brunet sat on his stomach, weight just barely noticeable, and frowned down at him.
Then he closed his eyes, smiled, and the Christmas tree suddenly lost its lights. The old clock on the other side of the snow-covered concrete block chimed and Roxas heard little bells ringing inside his head and outside.
Sixty seconds of magic…
Roxas began crying, because he was lonely, discontent, and a bastard for dragging Sora away from friends and family and loved ones to come searching for Roxas.
"Not your fault, Roxy." Roxas hadn't even realized he'd spoken aloud, "I came of my own free will." Sora whispered it, amusement in his voice.
Roxas raised his head out of the snow, attempting to meet Sora face-to-face before finally slumping down in defeat.
"Christmas is special." He muttered.
"Yeah," Sora agreed, "but no one deserves to spend it alone, no matter what they did. What they didn't do."
"It was our holiday," Roxas intoned.
Sora chuckled, and he brought his face closer to Roxas's, saying gently, "Then let's make it ours."
Sora's lips were placed on Roxas's in a soft caress before the clock struck twelve-o-one.
…and it ends with a slight explosion.
Then Sora moved away, and that was the only part of Roxas that wasn't cold, lying flat in the snow with a brunet-haired boy on top of him, blue eyes sparkling with laughter as he snickered at the expression on the blonde's face.
"Let's go back, Roxy. There are only ghosts here."
The ghosts had been laid to rest, but Roxas allowed himself to be led back to warmth and kindness of a new and exciting kind all the same.
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Blue: Please excuse the relative lateness of this fic. Lillith, who wrote this, ended up having to abandon the computer during the holidays. And I, being stupid, didn't think to check if she'd left any notes -- Until now, when she so casually asked me if I'd uploaded her stories that were due for Christmas Eve and Day. The one that was meant to be for Christmas Day will be out tomorrow, however, the one for New Year's will be out as scheduled since she'll be returning from her RL vacation on the 30th.
Original Author Notes:
..
I'd love to point out right now that I honestly suck at reasonably happy fiction. I fail miserably at making it light and fluffy. I wanted to end this better, wanted to begin this better, but all of my relatively peppy muses seem to have left the country. Not my best work (far from it), but I felt like putting out something for Christmas, anyways.
..
I obviously don't own Roxas, Sora, or Axel. I do, however, own the cookies I'm currently stuffing my face with – Santa ain't (excuse my hick language, seems appropriate) getting jack tonight.