Author's Note: Aahhh…This fic is totally based on "The Mediator" by Meg Cabot, and maybe some "Alex Rider" (by Anthony Horowitz) stuff as well, if it ever gets to be action-ized. I was reading some AU-school KH fics with Sora/Roxas, so I got all inspired…plus my rereading of Meg Cabot's novels. I have had this idea for a while, but after starting on my K.H.R fic, I just lost interest in this one. But somehow I re-read and found it to be satisfying, so...All right, enough rambling~

Disclaimer: No, I do not own Kingdom Hearts, yes I know it sucks, and no, I don't think I can ever own it anyway, since I'm not Tetsuya Nomura. Oh, and The Mediator idea from Meg Cabot.

Warnings: It's definitely going to be BL/Yaoi/Slash or whichever you call it AHAWHAWHAWHAW`!~W#$ Anyway, Roxas is a bit sarcastic in the beginning, but he'll return to being his cute self once the story's clear =D He's also rather snarky and hot-headed, but being meek and timid never gets the story anywhere! Hehe 3 Ahh, and my writing isn't usually this simple, ranting tone, but I'm too in the Meg Cabot mood to change it.

Summary: Recently Roxas has moved from his hometown Destiny Island to a populated urban area, Twilight City. On top of dealing with pesky city teens, he also has to cope with his uncanny ability to see the undead (A.K.A ghosts). What happens when he finds out about this one suave royal pain in the ass century-year-old ghost by the name of Riku who takes part ownership of his bedroom? And what about that popular sophomore by the name of Sora Lockhart who's bent on discovering his dangerous ability?

Anywayz~ enjoy =]

Ever since I was a toddler, I always thought I was a normal human. Sure, I can land an extremely mean punch whenever I get intentionally provoked (and I say intentionally because the kind of business I deal with usually involves some really rude creatures who don't know better. Well, before I give them a piece of my mind), oh, and that roundhouse kick that can send any living thing sprawling through a wall, yet still remain alive so I can torture them some more, but that's all, and I don't really look out of the norm. Sure my spiky blond hair defies gravity without the use of gel, but I think it's only because it's in the genes, and my cerulean eyes are slightly wider than most of the guys I know, but aside from these exceptions, I'm perfectly capable of being in the human genre.

I suppose I can say that only if I hadn't been born with this accursed gift from the Higher Beings: the ability to see the undead. Undead not as in zombies from those typically dramatic horror movies currently airing in the theatres, but more like ghosts who like to mess around with me while I'm half-asleep, all because they want me to deliver a message to his or her grandchildren that the money they saved up during the hardships of WWI is actually in the fridge downstairs, if ever they need the extra tidbits to ease them in their lives. Yeah, I think I'll like this unpaid job better if they don't bug me every second of the day and actually let me sleep when I should be sleeping, but since this is obviously not possible, I guess I should just stick with it.

Psh, who am I kidding?

"Attention all passengers, please remain buckled in your seats as we are descending onto the landing now. Again, all passengers must have their seatbelts buckled as we are descending."

I stare out through the panel and see vast grayish white vapors of cloud swishing past as the plane tilts downward toward the runway. There are green and yellow blurs, which I assume are trees and some sort of fruits hanging on them. I can feel the floor beneath me shaking as we finally descend on the runway, the wheels skidding several feet into a final halt. The guy sitting next to my seat lifts his yellow Pikachu pillow off of his face and groans, yawning loudly. I turn to observe the other passengers blandly. A mother and her child, a middle-aged woman with glasses and a notebook, an obese woman asleep, a bald man…

I yawn as well.

"Attention all passengers," the monotone woman's voice is back on the speakers, "we will be departing by each row of seats. We will start with A001. Repeat, attention all passengers…"

I follow the man before me sleepily, regretting how I woke up earlier than anyone else around my area during the morning of the flight. As I am getting nearer to the exit, I just remember something my dad told me over the phone. I think he mentioned that in the city during this time of the year, (which is December) it's much colder than I'm used to back at Destiny Island. He said that it snows in winter...and I'm over here wearing a simple t-shirt and baggy black pants. So if I freeze to death on my first day on level ground since my plane ride, it's entirely my own fault. For trying to get comfortable. Oh wait, here we go. Time to embrace the heavenly arms of bitter hardship! As I am thinking this, I take a broad step out of the plane – and freeze.

Literally freeze on the spot because the cold is so utterly inhumanely cold that it's hot. Not the nice hot-bath kind of hot, but the stinging hot that is cold. If that makes any sense at all. I can hear disgruntled voices behind me, and I hurriedly step off onto the cold landing. There are bits of snow everywhere – in the air, on brown trees, and the frosting over the busy roads. It isn't snowing entirely, but the air is thick with moisture of mist and cold. I speed over to the revolving doors to find sanctuary in the airport, with its dryness and warm temperature. I look around at the white walls and glass windows, with the machines admitting new arrivals, a family meeting up with another in every corner, and wonder how I'm ever going to find my relatives in this place. Apparently, I shan't have to look any further, because a large, decorated banner with my name on it with excessive hearts is held up over the crowd.

No, that is definitely not embarrassing or anything. Several passersby pass by the banner and "aww"ed, casting looks around to see if they can spot whomever it's dedicated to. I avoid them and hightail over to the idiots waving the banner. I get closer and see a tall, dark-haired girl wearing a designer trench coat and high heels brandishing the banner proudly. I don't recognize her, but I have a feeling she's going to be a daily annoyance. On the other side of the welcome message stands Aeris, the kind brunette I've known since childhood. She's wearing a thick wool scarf over her dress, her emerald eyes glancing searchingly. I immediately break up into a smile, hurrying over to the two women.

"Aeris!" I acknowledge as I approach them, waving my arm. She looks over at the sound of her name, notices me, and gives me a warm smile. The short-haired girl next to her drops the flag in excitement as I come toward them.

"Roxas, is it?" she exclaims hyperactively, jumping up and down. Before I can answer, however, she says, "Welcome to Twilight City!" and pulls me into a tight hug. I struggle in her bear hug, my forehead crushed against her arm. Aeris giggles in amusement, ruffling my hair when the girl finally frees me from her grasp.

"The others have already gotten your baggage, and they're all waiting in the cars right now," Aeris tells me.

"Cars?" I didn't think there will be that many people retrieving me from the airport.

"Yes, it seems there are a lot of people meaning to meet you. Roxas can actually be pretty popular," she teases, pinching my cheek.

"Ow…I doubt it."

"I forgot to introduce myself," the tall girl says, her heels click-clacking on the floor, "I'm Yuffie, your cousin, even though we don't look alike."

I observe her, and agree that we don't share any similarities in our appearances. Her hair is jet black, her eyes are a dark brown, and with the added inches from her heels, she may be around six foot one. In my case, my hair is naturally golden blond, eyes deep blue, and my height seems to remain five foot four since middle school. We can't be anymore different.

"I'm not your only cousin though, and you're gonna' meet a lot of 'em when we get to the cars," she adds excitedly.

Hm…other cousins, huh.

We're closing in on the exit now, and I can tell that the glass doors are fogged up from the coldness outside. Aeris looks me over from top to bottom with a frown.

"Roxas… did you forget to bring extra clothes?" she reprimands, shaking her head.

I laugh sheepishly, and Yuffie snickers beside me. She rustles in her Abercrombie and Fitch bag, taking out a folded jacket along with thick Moogle gloves. I thank her as she stuffs them into my arms.

"Mr. Sly mentioned that you would appreciate something extra when we meet up with you, so I brought some clothes with me," Yuffie winks, grinning as I stick my hand into a glove. Moogle ears protrude from my knuckles.

"Mr. Sly?"

"You know, your dad. He's always so sly, mentioning things from my childhood to entertain everyone when we have a family get-together," she explains, sniffing.

We exit one by one through the revolving entrance, and despite the extra padding, I still feel chilled to the bone, shivering in the wintry iciness. The sky is grey with looming clouds, warning of an impending storm. Parked in front of the airport are four cars: two sleek silver and black convertibles (BMW), a glossy blue Toyota Camry Hybrid, and a Mercedes-Benz R-Class. Onlookers whisper amongst themselves as they pass by, blatantly commenting on the affluent vehicles, some even pointing at them directly.

"Uhh…" I mumble something incoherent even to myself as Yuffie pulls me along by my arm towards the first car, the silver BMW. She taps on the shaded window, and it slowly rolls down. A blond with smooth but spiky hair looks out the window at us, his intent gaze on me.

"Cloud!" I step back as he gets out of the driver's seat.

"How was your ride, Roxas?" he asks, a hint of a smile on his thin lips as he ruffles my hair gently.

"It was okay…" I reply, grinning. "Did dad come?"

"He's busy at the moment, but he'll be home for dinner," he says, dusting snow from my hair. It's been a while since we last saw each other – probably around three to four years. Up until now, I had stayed with our grandparents on Destiny Island with my friends Hayner, Pence, and Oletto.

Upon my intrusion, all the doors of the other cars' have unlocked, and eight and more people are standing around. They all seem to tower over me, their stares aimed at my face. I feel a bit nervous as they approach us. I wonder who all these people are, and why they choose to meet me when I don't even recognize them. These people seem to be dressed all in stylish and expensive outfits, and they hold themselves up with arrogant grace.

"Everyone, this is Roxas," Aeris introduces me with an encouraging glance in my direction. I nod hesitantly.

Glancing around the murmuring crowd, I see a bulky guy with a cowlick and goggles patting a blond girl around my age on the back. He seems to be persuading her to do something, and when I catch his eye, he grins and winks at her.

"Uncle Cid!" I wave at him, and he hustles aside the bustling crowd toward me, dragging the unwilling girl with him.

"How ya' doing, Roxie?" he grumbles, squeezing me in a hug worse than Yuffie's.

I gasp for breath and answer, "Good, I guess. I haven't seen everyone in a while."

"Yah, I suppose. Oh, and this little cutie here is Namine," he tells me, jutting the blonde forward so we're face-to-face. "You're gonna' start high school on Monday, 'aight? You'll be in the same school and all, so now's a good time to get to know someone from school, eh?" He gives a rather obvious meaningful glance at Namine before shuffling over to another group of people.

Left alone with just the two of us, I'm forced to be polite. "Uhh…I'm Roxas," I present a smile and my hand.

"Namine," she replies, shaking my hand gingerly.

"All right, all right, everyone," a voice startles us. Yuffie has her hands on her hips and a bright grin. "We can all talk later, and right now it's really cold. So let's all go back first, 'kay?"

Everyone consents to the idea, each heading to his or her own car. I look at Namine, who looks at me, and I wave at her before getting in the silver convertible. Her ride seems to be the BMW behind mine. Cloud is already waiting in the driver's seat with Aeris beside him. I sigh in relief as the warmness in the car cures my frozen state from the coldness outside. My cheeks are flushed, and the prickly sensation from the gloves makes it worse, so I end up placing my face in front of the heater.

"You'll be starting school in two days, Roxas," begins Aeris, fixing the rearview mirror on me in the backseat despite Cloud's disgruntled protest, "Excited?"

"Eh…yeah."

"Do you miss your friends from Destiny Island?" she wants to know, frowning.

"Kinda'…but they said they're going to visit me."

"You'll make new friends here, too, I'm sure." Aeris smiles at me warmly.

There are trees on the roadside, but they're not the palm trees I'm used to. The palm trees have this strangely star-shaped fruit called the "Paopu fruit" that people believe will bind a person together with another if they share said fruit accordingly. I shared one with Hayner back in Destiny Island by accident, but nothing exceptional happened. Wait no…There was some sort of effect...maybe because of the fruit I started to lose interest in girls. Or I just am not as obsessed with them as the other guys my age. I don't even know if and whether I can be classified "gay" by these terms, but it's not as if I give it any extra thought, since I'm too busy trying to get the undead spirits to the other world instead of worrying about my sexual orientation. Of course I didn't mention any of this to my closest friends back on the Island – I do not need to be any weirder than I already am.

The door on my side of the car clicks open, and the next thing I know, I'm face-to-face with a spiky redhead with sea-green eyes. He has a smirk on his face, wearing a stylish overcoat with a silver key necklace dangling from his collarbone.

"Heh? Is this the new kid?" He turns to look at Cloud, a smirk still on his mouth. Cloud, unaware that someone just opened the car door while he was parking, merely nods in agreement.

"Who're you?" I ask rudely as he leans closer.

He makes a sound like "tch, tch," and taps my cheek, "Feisty, aren't we?"

"Axel, please behave yourself," Aeris growls, swiveling in her seat and whacking him over the head with a thick pile of paper.

"Tsk," he hisses, "That's why I don't go for old women like you – "

Aeris steps out of the car, grabs the guy's ear and grumbles menacingly, "You and me, we have something we need to discuss about right now," and drags him away.

I can't contain myself any longer and burst out laughing at the two, the redhead still struggling in her grasp. Cloud unloads the suitcases from the back of the car, refusing my help when I offered, and he convinces me to take a look at my new home. Aeris, done with her little business, comes over to me in better spirit than before, an expression of immense satisfaction on her face.

"Come on, Roxas," she says brightly, tugging on my arm and leading me toward the iron gates where she gains access with her hand on the admittance machine. "I want to show you around the house. Actually, it's not entirely what you would call a house, but wait 'til you see it yourself…"

We're walking on the cobblestone path, frost glittering like a white sheet of blanket over the well-kept garden. I can see a huge three-story manor, the exterior white-washed, and a balcony overlooking the front yard set several feet above the main entrance. There are glass windows everywhere on the house, and a bustle of activity seems to be happening in the manor. It truly looks like a Victorian manor from the medieval ages. The three-story house has pointed tops and slanted-in attics, an outdoor fountain with a magnificent statue of the gargoyle Goliath, and a garden with exotic plants in the greenhouse behind the manor.

All this I take in a mass of confusion. I ponder for a moment whether we are actually in the right place. I don't remember being raised up as the son of a rich father – I can only recognize hanging out with childhood friends in a secret cave where you row a boat to there from the mainland.

"Aeris…how did all this happen?" I ask, gesturing at the towering mansion. She glances at me.

"Your father, Shinra, Rufus, is a most successful businessman. The business enterprise in which he owns is the company Shinra, a corporation that produces the latest product of technology such as cellphones and handheld media players. It seems he has maintained success since five years ago," Aeris explains, acting as my personal tour guide through the manor. The smooth, oaken grand staircase takes forever to climb up. "The reason why you were entrusted into the care of your grandparents," she continues, "was probably because your father didn't want you to be involved in such a burden of life. And to do so, he wanted you to enjoy your childhood on the Island where he grew up as an infant himself."

I digest this information, feeling a lump forming in my throat. "But Cloud didn't stay with me on the Island." I look over at her.

"He's more than capable of handling the business," she replies, smiling. As we pass by the umpteenth room (this one for storage in the attic), she pauses and asks, "You're tired from the jetlag, right, Roxas?"

I think about refusing the offer of rest, wanting to know more about my family, but it seems I can't handle anything more. My knees are starting to buckle, my eyes like lead.

"Yeah…I actually do want to take a nap," I mumble reluctantly.

"All right, I'll lead you to your room. You can begin unpacking tomorrow, and then we'll figure out your school things, 'kay?"

I'm too sleepy to argue, let alone to say anything at all, so a while later, I collapse like a sack of potatoes on my new bed. I'm sure I'm dead asleep, but somehow or another, I can feel someone or something watching me as I rest on. Probably just a figment of my imagination.

I hope.

A while later I wake up to the sound of eager birds. The sunlight is dim, but my eyes feel somehow allergic to it. Glancing around, I see an empty desktop, a comfortable leather swiveling chair, rose petal decorations along the sky blue walls, and the clean, wooden floor. The bed I sleep in must be at least queen-sized, ridiculously large for one person, but I guess this is how the rich live after all. Funny how just several days ago I had actually been living like a wild islander. But I'm not one of them. A wild islander, I mean. I just lived on an island, is all.

There is a beige colored silk curtain draped across my bed, but I tie them so the curtain parts like a V over my bed. I stretch lazily, wondering if whether I can sleep for several more hours. And just then, I have this most peculiar feeling, like someone is spying on me. Or watching me like I'm this interesting display thing. I don't feel like dealing with an "outsider" at the moment, but this is one is actually haunting my room.

Not good.

So turning around, I look at the intruder straight in the eyes, just as he has been staring at me for probably the whole night (as creepy as it sounds), and I demand audibly, "What do you want?"

This guy has silver blue-ish hair down to his shoulders, an interesting shade of turquoise eyes, and he's wearing something like a satin bathrobe with a scarf casually slung across his neck. He looks somewhere between sixteen and seventeen, and he must be a real looker back in his days (my assumptions are usually right…about the dead anyway). Right now he looks absolutely confused, and he turns around to see if I'm talking to someone else who just came in. Or something. But my gaze is set on him the whole time.

"You can see me?" he asks tentatively, still clearly not sure if I'm for real.

I nod. He has the tone of an aristocrat, and his voice seems to be made of silk. "You're obviously dead, so there must be something keeping you from moving on to the afterlife."

"How come you can see me?" he asks, moving from his original spot, where he was leaning on the wall, and slowly taking a step toward my bed.

"Not everyone can see ghosts, but I can. It's not the best ability in the world," I admit, narrowing my eyes as the guy steadily inches closer.

"It's been at least a century since I last talked to a person…" he trails off, now only several inches from me, leaning on the bedpost. I have the instinct to scoot some feet away, since I don't really like being closed to ghosts (or touched by them – even worse, because they're ice cold), but that seems like a cowardly move. And cowardly is not what you should appear to a ghost, because they take advantage of that.

"Yeah, well, you can talk to more people once I set you off to your journey into your next life," I promise, trying to sound as persuasive as I can. I don't think it works, because he has his eyebrow raised at me.

"And how do you plan on doing that?" he says, playing with my flowery bed sheet, ice-blue eyes concentrated on mine. Ghosts have the ability to touch whatever they want aside from humans, but if you throw an object at them, it'll pass straight through. It's unfair.

"If you have an idea of why you wound up as a spirit on this plane, I can fix your problem, and you'll be taking the next step in your life," I ramble off, tilting back slightly as his eyes rake over my face and his lips curled into a smirk. I never knew that ghosts can look as devilish as he does. Or, wait, maybe it's just him.

"…It's Riku."

I don't know what he means by that, and it hardly pertains to anything I've mentioned to him thus far.

"Ah…huh?"

"My name is Riku," he elaborates.

That's nice to know. At least I won't be calling him "the guy," or "that dude" anymore.

"I'm Roxas." I figure it's only polite to return the favor.

"So this room is yours now?" he asks, sweeping over to the floor-to-ceiling French window with silver draping. He stares out at the misty air and the slowly bustling life in the city with an impassiveness that gives me the notion that he doesn't care about his ghostly situation. And from the way he's dressed, it's a possibility that he was murdered in his sleep, with his bathrobe and all.

"Yeah, it's my room. That's why I need you to clear out since there's a new inhabitant, and the new guy is me," I dare him to retort, or object to my declaration, but he merely chuckles. A nerve in me bubbles.

"It is still my house, Roxas," he says conversationally. Despite his tone, I can discern certain sharpness along with it.

I glare at him stubbornly. He drifts over again, but this time he doesn't just stop at the bedpost, he situates himself on the bed so that our faces are perfectly level.

"I'm warning you," I growl, hoping looks can kill. Except even if they can kill, they can't possibly kill a person who's already dead.

His arm reaches over and before I know it, I'm pinned to my bedpost. For a ghost who hasn't been in contact with anyone for the past hundred years or so, he can't possibly know that he can physically touch anyone. Riku must be trying to intimidate me by showing an act of power, but he doesn't know that he can do more than just mental damage. But I, as a mediator, have the ability to see, talk, and deal physical means to a ghost as well. So, in defiance, I grab his arm and yank it in an awkward angle so that a - crack! - sound vibrates. I'm pretty sure that if he is a live guy, more than one bone in his arm would've been broken.

Riku seems to be in utmost pain, gasping for breath as his arm dangles limply, and his eyes wide in surprise. Yet a few seconds later, the throbbing is no longer there, and his arm seems to be working again. Ghosts can be hurt, sure, but they heal incredibly quickly since they're already dead, so it's basically a waste of energy trying to do permanent damage. It does startle them, however, enough to convince them to consider what I have to say.

"You have two choices, Riku," I say, holding up two fingers. "One, you find out why you're still here so I can send you off without any more pain, or two, you go find some other guy or place to haunt." He looks like he's ready to argue the point, so I cut him off by adding, "I'm giving you time to think it over, so, uhm, use it wisely."

Riku seems extremely troubled, and there's a crease between his eyes. "You can see and have a conversation with me, and now you can physically touch me…what are you?"

So I see how this can naturally confuse a century-year-old ghost, but I really need to start unpacking my bags. Without answering him, I shuffle out the door to the bathroom conveniently located next to my compartment. The bathroom is huge, almost as big as my new room, if not even larger, with a clean toilet and a massive bath that almost looks like an indoor pool. It has golden faucets the shape of two miniature dragons on the front end of the pool, and it seems to be at least five foot two in depth, and thirty foot by length. Someone must've prepared the bath for me, because crimson rose petals are floating in the bubbling water. I test the temperature out with the tip of my finger. Warm enough to heat me up in the cold weather, but not hot like the stinging cold-hot bath. Perfect.

So I'm resting in the warm and nicely-scented bath, slowly drifting off to sleep, when the door clicks open suddenly. My eyes snap open, and any trace of sleepiness immediately died. Standing half-naked in the doorway with a towel loosely wrapped around his hips is the strange redhead I met earlier yesterday. He looks as surprised as I feel. Then I remember that I didn't lock the door when I came in.

"U-uhh…" I stare at him as he shuts the door behind him. "I'll get out right now."

He turns around with an eyebrow raised. "Re-lax, there's plenty of room in here," he assures me with his trademark smirk that I don't trust one bit. "The maids prepare this bath for me every morning." He saunters over to where I sit on a slightly raised ledge in the bath. I squirmed under his gaze, my body suddenly feeling no heat from the bath water.

"Eh…I think I'll just excuse myself now," I say, producing an innocent smile.

"Really," his breath sweeps over my ear, and I shiver involuntarily, "since you're already here and all, let's just enjoy it as a hang-out between two men…unless you're dissatisfied with that?"

I scoot over a bit. Is that a challenge?

"Fine," I say, looking up at him straight in the eyes.

"Nice attitude," he commends approvingly. I frown in response.

My eyes widen when he starts fumbling with his bath towel. He's not stripping in front of me…right? I clench my eyes shut and look elsewhere, pretending to be interested in this petite rose floating near my hand. I can hear him chuckling, but I'm not looking until the coast is clear.

"You can look now," the sultry voice remarks from behind me.

"Not until you get in the pool, jerk," I retort.

I finally tear my eyes away from the rose petal when I feel the water lapping against the sides of the pool. Axel is wading towards me from the opposite end, half of him submerged in water and half still visible. That's the thing about tall people – something five foot means nothing to them. I force myself to act as nonchalant as possible, flicking a flower and avoiding eye contact. He must sense my discomfort because a low chuckle resounds in the hazy bathroom.

"So how's life treating yah, kid?" grunts the redhead, his face inclined towards the ceiling. He seems to be at ease since his eyes are closed peacefully.

"It's treating me pretty good." I rub my arm with the rose-scented water.

Axel's jade eye cracks open, scrutinizing me calmly with a smirk, and he remarks casually, "You have a girl's skin, you know."

I pause, glaring at him vehemently. The bastard did not just say what I think he said.

"It's all pale and smooth-looking, you must take care of it really well," he taunts with a widening grin.

Okay, that's it. No one ridicules me and gets away with it.