Roxas jolted out of his sleep, throwing the old star covered sheets away from him. Blinking away his sleep with a yawn, he ran his hand across his eyes, sitting up. His room dark, he turned his cerculean eyes to the window, frowning as he looked outside.

It was still dark.

It didn't even look like dawn was coming yet.

Shaking his head, he leaned back against the bed's headboard, drawing his knees up and closer to him.

What was with that dream?

Up until about a week ago, he had been dreaming about a familar, but not familar, brunette, doors, keys and hearts.

But, then, it had suddenly changed.

Tonight had been another one of those dreams with the red haired male and a fiery temper to match his hair colour. He seemed familar like the brunette boy, but the name always escaped him.

And that . . . that made him all the more curious.

What was all this supposed to mean?

As he sat there thinking, lost in his own thoughts, Roxas realized one thing; that the dream always started out the exact same way.

It would start out completely dark, as if the darkness was closing in on him, choking him even. It didn't really seem to matter what time of day it was, it was always dark. To him, it seemed like the sun refused to shine in this forsaken place, wherever "here" was.

The surroundings were always the same; the same place, the same scenario.

Clad in dark clothes, he made his way down the quiet street, staying out of sight, looming in the shadows. Not that there was anyone out in these streets. Down the dark streets, the buildings looming high above him, he moved quickly. Deep down, and he didn't know how, but he knew that he had to get out.

Or else . . . or else what?

His dream never told him that part.

Then, out of the shadows, that voice would cut him to the core. "Your mind's made up?" and then, with a personality to match the flaming hair, stepped out of the shadows.

The name, however, still escaped him.

All that he knew was that he had to leave; something had happened that had made him run. Not like it mattered anyway; he wouldn't be missed - why would he be?

He was just another one of the masses, right? Right.

His reply seemed to effect the red haired male, but he didn't stay silent for long. However, he had to keep going, if he turned around, he wouldn't be able to leave again.

"You're wrong, I'll miss you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Roxas mumbled to himself, dropping his forehead into his palm, his frown growing more pronounced. "I don't understand . . ."

And, he didn't, but he wasn't sure he wanted to understand anyway. It was just a dream, it wasn't supposed to mean anything anyway, just his subconcious talking. Shaking his head, this train of thought was too deep for the time of day, cast his eyes in the direction of his light-up clock - in the shape of a moon -he frowned as it read four am.

With a groan, Roxas flopped heavily onto his bed. It was too early for this. As he closed his eyes to the dark night once again, he wondered if it really was just a dream after all . . .

--

Roxas groaned as he came too, the light shone through his window. He really needed to get some curtains or a blind at least. Shaking the thought away, he moved to sit up, blinking away the sleep in his eyes. Turning his gaze to his room, to the clock on his beside table, he groaned.

It read eight am.

"Right . . . promise . . ."

Today was the Summers Struggle Tournament. As if he could ever forget about that, he and Hayner had been practicing all summer for the event. They planned to take down Seifer and win the trophy, for once. Shaking his head, Roxas pushed himself out of bed, changing his pajamas for street clothes. Pushing his argument with Hayner from his mind, he quickly left his room, intent on getting to the sandlot.

It was just his luck he'd sleep in!

"What a mess . . ." he thought, slipping into his shoes, yelling a goodbye to his mother as he slammed the door behind him.

Making his way down the garden path – his mother would kill him if he crushed the flowers again – as soon as his feet hit the pavement, he was gone. His feet pounded heavily against the pavement in his hurry as he moved through the twisted streets.

"You better hurry to the sandlot, you're going to be late!" he heard a shopkeeper shout as he ran by, the sandlot just down a ramp and around the corner now.

As the fireworks display signaling the start of the event lighted the sky, Roxas picked up his pace, waving to the shopkeeper as he jumped off the small ramp, the sandlot just around the corner now.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Struggle-fiends of Twilight Town! It's time for summer's most sizzling clash! That's right! Today is the day for the Struggle and title match! Who will be the one to break through the ranks and take on our champion, Setzer!?" Roxas came to a stop as he heard the announcer's voice over the sound system, the tournament beginning. Out of breath and panting hard, he slumped down on one of the benches surrounding the platform. "And who will leave today as our new Struggle Champion!?"

He had to smile as he heard Olette and Pence shout out his and Hayner's name, but he had to roll his eyes as he heard Setzer's name. He sighed as the silver haired teen come around the corner, waving to his fans as if he had already won the tournament. How he would love to see someone beat him – even if it was Seifer. His thoughts stopped there, the announcer's loud voice cutting through his thoughts.

"Yes, the crowd is fired up, so you know what comes next: Let's... STRUGGLE!" At the yell of both the announcer and the crowd, the fireworks started up again, signaling the start of the competition. Making his way to the wooden booth next to the scoreboard, he shuffled his papers around, before leaning towards the microphone. "Now, it's time to introduce today's combatants! The four bad boys who struggled their way through the preliminaries! Regular finalist and head of the Twilight Disciplinary Committee: Seifer! Completely out of nowhere--who knew he'd make it so far this year? Vivi! An underground favorite and local attitude problem: Hayner! It's his first trip to the finals! And Struggler number 4, who happens to be my absolute favorite customer: Roxas! So--who will win this sweltering summer Struggle!? Who will take home the grand prize? The summa cum laude of Struggle-- the Four Crystal Trophy! AND...a chance to take on our defending champion, Setzer! It won't be long now, folks. I suggest our challengers go over the official Struggle Rules before we begin!"

Leaving the bench, Roxas made his way over to the wooden booth where the others were, foam bats in hand. Grabbing his bat, he swung it around experimentally a couple times, getting the feel of it. Catching sight of Hayner out of the corner of his eye, he sighed. Was he still mad about that? He thought he'd be over that by now . . . but, then again, it was Hayner.

"Our first match of today's Struggle tournament will be between Roxas and his best friend Hayner!"

Roxas blinked, looking away from Hayner to the announcer. He had to fight Hayner already? He frowned as he made his way up the wooden steps, onto the platform. Looked like it wasn't going to be the two of them in the final round . . .

"Ready, Roxas?"

Roxas nodded, bat in hand. A whistle sounded from the announcer's box and one the third whistle, it started. Roxas ran out to Hayner, bat swinging behind him as he went. The two exchanged blows, the coloured balls bouncing away from them and across the platform. Keeping an eye on each other as they swung their bats as they tried to grab the coloured balls, the whistle eventually blew, signaling their time was up. Roxas dropped his bat, his breath heavy. Glancing around, he smirked as he saw Hayner in more-or-less the exact same pose as him.

His attention was drawn to the announcer as he stopped before him, grabbing Roxas's hand, thrusting it up into the air. "And the winner is Roxas! Not even friendship will slow this kid down. And Hayner put up a great fight, too."

Hayner sighed, making his way over to where Roxas stood, the announcer having let go of his arm, the crowd still cheering in the background – Olette and Pence the loudest of the small crowd. "I lost. Awww, I can't believe it! I guess I taught you well."

Roxas grinned, heading towards the stairs, off the platform, Hayner behind him. "I had a lot of fun fighting you."

Hayner snorted from behind him. "Yeah, well I didn't, wise guy."

Roxas let out a laugh at the comment, as they left the platform, dropping onto the bench beside Olette and Pence. As the announcer started talking again, they were surprised as everyone else when Seifer went up against Vivi. What surprised then more was when Vivi managed to beat out Seifer. That wasn't in the cards, who knew he was that strong . . .

Hayner let out a laugh, slapping Roxas on the back. "Good luck out there Roxas; it's just you and Vivi now."

Roxas nodded, grabbing his bat from the ground. Locking his cerulean eyes with Vivi, who was still standing on the platform waiting for him, staring at him as he climbed the steps, stopping a couple feet away from Vivi. He nodded to what the announcer said, he wasn't really listening however. Vivi was the only thing standing between him and the trophy.

"And now, the match you've been waiting for: Roxas vs. Vivi!" he heard the announcer say, followed by the whistle, signaling the start of the final struggle match.

Roxas stared at Vivi with such intense as he lashed out at the smaller kid, determined to win. The coloured balls flew all over the place, the blue and red mixing in with one another, neither knowing who had more then the other. Deep into his thoughts, Roxas didn't notice that his surroundings were starting to freeze and it wasn't until Vivi froze, did he notice, his foam bat poised to deliver the final blow.

He paused as numbers started to swirl around the smaller kid, his image flickering until he turned into one of those white creatures from the day before. He blinked, as the creature stood in front of him, swaying, and its mouth in the form of a zipper. "Again!?" He shouted, confused as more of the creatures appeared, surrounding him.

Bringing up his foam bat – vaguely realizing that it had turned into a shape of a key, just like in his dreams – he lunged at the white creatures, one by one their numbers seemed to decrease until there was only one swaying in front of him. His breath heavy, his arms tired from swinging his foam-bat-turned-key around for the past couple hours.

How much more of this could he take? Not much mor–

His thoughts were disrupted as he heard clapping behind him. Dropping his key to his side, his grip lax, he turned around warily. Who else could be here?!

"Roxas. All right. Fight fight fight," Roxas watched warily, eyebrows raised as he noticed a black cloaked figure on the other side of the platform. As the figure walked closer, he raised his bat-turned-key in front of him, unsure. "You really don't remember? It's me. You know, Axel."

Axel?

Reaching his hands up, the black cloaked figure shoved his hood down, that flaming red hair falling out, sticking in all directions.

Roxas's voice died in his throat. That red hair . . . the drawl of his voice . . .it was . . . the same as his dream.

Glancing back at Axel, his face blank, he had a sinking feeling that everything around him was about to change . . .

--

A/N

Got inspired by Bleeding Love by Leona Lewis

Listening to that song and playing through Twilight Town – anything can happen . . . .