A/N: This isn't the first fanfiction I've written, but it's the first I'm going to post. The other one is a request and I hate the premise of it, so I wanted to post this before it (and I may not post it for a while). Of course it's Roxas/Axel, in that order…so if you have a problem with it, either deal or go away. It's not that I'm afraid of getting retarded negative reviews…it's just that I think I'd die laughing at anyone who left them and I don't want to die yet. Oh, and my inspiration for this is the amazing author Zheyne (on this site). I read her (at least, I think it's a 'her') stories and the writing style for 'Cerulean Nightmares' inspired this. Yes, the writing style; this is nothing like that masterpiece. Sexual encounters are common in this. Most of them aren't descriptive. But some are. So, again, if you don't like reading about Roxas topping Axel (like it should be, because canon!Axel is nothing like fanon!Axel and canon!Roxas is nothing like fanon!Roxas), get lost. I would apologize, but I'm not sorry; I have a whole section of my profile dedicated to why Roxas is definitely on top. Don't believe me? Go read it. Oh, and btw, this isn't a 'see you in the next life' story. Just AU.
Like it says in my summary: this is for Zheyne. That genius is my inspiration. And yes, I'm aware that Zheyne doesn't care for lemons, but I'm hoping they're tasteful enough that I'll be forgiven (if this ever gets read).
Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts belongs to Square Enix/Disney, and my other references belong to their respective owners. Not to me. I only own this plot.
He's like the wind. Not like a breeze but the kind of wind that sweeps you away, pulls you where you don't want to go, a whirlwind, a cyclone maybe. And that person is caught up in it, that person who is called Axel who is me.
He doesn't know him very much but already knows he wants to spend the rest of his life with him because nothing, no one, is as amazing as him. He's going places, climbing invisible ladders by himself and never slipping, pulling that person up – that person, who is called Axel, who is me.
I want to spend my life with him but it's all like a photo from a 35mm camera, how we worked. Just moments in time caught by someone who likes the image, no one knowing what happens between shots.
whir. click.
Axel meets him on a Thursday, scribbling something in a little coffee house over a triple-shot espresso. Axel knows the drink because he made it, but the line was long and he'd stalked off so fast Axel hadn't been able to give him his change.
"Keep it," he says, before Axel even has a chance to speak.
"What?"
The customer sighs. "The change. Did you really think I wouldn't notice change from a twenty was missing? Keep it."
"…Why?"
Smacking his fist on the tabletop, the customer shakes his head. "What, are you some kind of noble asshole? Nobody else would bother."
"No. I'm just an asshole who wants to keep my job."
"Well, stop. I hate carrying change. Take the money and run."
Axel suddenly gets a face full of blue. He's never noticed eye color before, but this is different. These aren't eyes, not really. They're too vivid to be real. And then, suddenly, he realizes how…beautiful his odd customer is.
"…Take a picture. It'll last longer," he finally says, snapping Axel to attention.
He brings out his trusty cell phone and does just that, and thinks he may have a heart attack in the near future when the customer smiles. His face, even pale beneath oddly spiked blond hair, was dark before but now it looks absolutely lit up.
"I'm Roxas," he says, and Axel instantly commits that to memory.
"Axel," he replies, tapping two fingers to his temple, wondering why he's flirting with this guy – he's got a girlfriend and this guy is a guy. "Got it memorized?"
Well, they'll probably never cross paths again, and he can show her the picture and tell her about the weirdo at work.
snap. flash.
That person who is called Axel who is me sees him later that night at the party he didn't want to bother with, the party thrown by a friend of an enemy and he doesn't know why he was invited but he goes because he's not a pussy, contrary to popular belief. She's at her sister's and only told him not to leave the porch light on.
Roxas, Roxas, coffee-house-Roxas is dancing with aforementioned friend of an enemy, looking oh-so-sensual pressed against her, hands in places he doesn't want to see but does anyway.
He looks up, hazy, smoky, beautiful, and whispers something in the girl's ear. She smacks his ass, the friend of an enemy, who has a pretty face with a sultry smirk and mean eyes.
Roxas slinks toward him and sits on the arm of the couch, even though there's plenty of room next to him. "You're only drinking."
"And on the flipside, you're over the moon right now."
Roxas laughs, at that person who is called Axel who is me. Axel doesn't know, but I know, that was the beginning. I know that's the beginning for the destruction of that person, that person who is me.
"Not yet." Tone: seductive. Eyes: hazy. Lips: so close he could move forward an inch and connect.
Heart: beating too, too fast in his oh-so-straight (but maybe not) chest.
Axel leans forward, it's obviously what Roxas wants, it's what he wants too, and it's a mistake but he doesn't know that yet, doesn't know about the poison, doesn't know about Roxas, even.
"Mm," says the blue eyes locked with his, and then that inebriated person who is called Axel who is me…is royally fucked over.
But he doesn't know that yet.
snap. flash.
He wakes up in an apartment that isn't his, in a bed with red sheets and a black coverlet kicked halfway off. He can't remember how he got here but he does remember the owner of the head on his chest.
In the early light he looks almost angelic, and when the party flashes into his mind he knows he's anything but angelic. It's absolutely not right to be as seductive as the body next to him. As Roxas, R-O-X-A-S, he's got it memorized.
He wishes he could remember last night after they left.
Suddenly, Roxas shoots up and sees him and apologizes, profusely. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have done that, I shouldn't have…"
And then, he blinks, and stills. "Axel?"
"You got it memorized, I see," he replies, even though he really just wants to know who the hell would want Roxas to apologize to them.
"It's not hard to remember. Why are you still here?" Roxas asks, but he's not angry. He's curious. Axel is stunned.
"Why wouldn't I be here?"
"One-night stands are generally not beautiful beginnings to long-term relationships," he points out dryly. "You're the only one who's ever stayed. Not that I mind; relationships are a bother. Sorry, by the way. For coming onto you last night. I was…inebriated."
"So, what," Axel begins, not sure whether to be miffed or not. "You just wanted some and I'm the first sucker you came across?"
"Not exactly. More like…I wanted you anyway, and I wasn't quite as gone as you thought last night. Yeah, pretty blown away, but not 'over the moon,' as you phrased it. Just…being in that state…gives me a push to actually say what I'm thinking."
"Wait, so…"
"Yeah, I had already decided. I just didn't know I'd see you again so soon."
Suddenly he remembers something he should have remembered last night, should have mentioned before things got this far. "I'm…not gay."
Roxas snickers, and trails blunt and bitten nails across his bare chest. He suppresses a shudder and he knows, knows, he's found out. It's the principle of the thing anyway.
"Of course not. You just forgot girls don't have dicks, and certainly don't put them inside you. Don't worry; I'll forgive your slip of memory. Like I said, one-night-stands are called one-night-stands for a reason."
Roxas stands gracefully, gliding into the adjoining bathroom like a swan in water, and Axel – belatedly – realizes just how much pain he's really in.
Fucked, he thinks, and he wonders what exactly possessed him to give into the blond's advances. His entire mind, all his lifelong teachings, had just slipped out of his head like sand through a sieve. Xion won't be pleased when she realizes the reason he's limping, but maybe now she'll get the hint and realize he never liked her like that.
So, they just used each other. That's okay.
snap. flash.
"Fancy meeting you here," says the blond, leaning over the counter and tracing small circles with his index finger on the space by his elbow.
"Er…hey, Roxas." He doesn't quite understand why Roxas is here, especially since it's after hours and he's pretty sure he already locked up.
"I was on my way home from a meeting and I saw you. I decided to stop by."
Axel allows his eyes to examine the top half of the blond, carefully tearing his gaze away when he starts wishing he could rip the black button-up shirt and black jacket away. "Business?"
"Sure." Roxas smirks. "Business."
"What kind?"
"Aren't you supposed to be cleaning up?"
He gives Roxas a wry look, but picks up the discarded rag and finishes his wipe-down. "Aren't you supposed to not be in here?"
Touché. But Roxas doesn't say that, and Axel wishes he would.
snap. flash.
That person, that person who is called Axel who is me, doesn't beg Xion to stay when she puts her last bag in the trunk of her sister's car. He doesn't say goodbye. He doesn't even stand by the window and watch as the car backs up and drives away. He never really liked her; and he only dated her because her sister begged him to. It doesn't matter to him.
He hates himself for wondering what Roxas is doing.
snap. flash.
Roxas, Roxas, one-night-stand Roxas stops by the coffee shop two days after Xion dumps Axel and it's after hours again. They exchange greetings and Axel is confused because Roxas shouldn't have been able to get through the locked doors, but it doesn't matter because suddenly the rag is yanked out of his hand and he's pulled bodily over the counter. It hurts like a motherfucker but he likes it a little, because it brings him closer to the subject of his unexpected desire.
The forceful blond pushes their lips together, not bothering to wait for an invitation, and reaches out with his tongue to rub against the sensitive spot behind Axel's left canine. He's absolutely embarrassed at the way it makes him shudder, at the way his arms pull Roxas closer even without his consent, the way the smirk against his lips lets him know it was all planned.
He isn't given time to think though, because suddenly he's pulled around again and pushed onto the big table in the corner of the room, where teenagers come to hang out and escape their parents.
And that person, that person who is called Axel who is me, is completely blown away.
Roxas unbuttons his pants, working them – and his undergarments – down, adjusting Axel so he can pull them off completely, and pulling off his shoes. He comes back up, stroking calculated places to arouse Axel more than he's ever been. The blond doesn't pull his punches; he goes straight to the kill and bends down, curling his tongue around Axel, slowly dragging the loop up and down and making Axel writhe.
There is a succession of licks and an open-mouthed kiss to the head of his length, and he buries his hands in Roxas' hair so he knows he's not dreaming. The tongue in that mouth flicks out, tasting, and the hummed mm sends shudders through him, settling somewhere between his spine and the organ Roxas is now slowly swallowing down.
There is suction and moisture and heat, and Axel's eyes roll back. There is another hum, this one sounding amused, and he's close to breaking but the blond pulls away rather suddenly.
He groans, unsure of how to use his mouth to tell him that he – and then, of course, his lips are once again attached to another pair. He tastes something odd, something musky and almost stale, but they pull away almost immediately and instead, he gets fingertips dancing over the seam of his lips.
"Suck, if you dare," says the blond, and he does, because he dares.
Oh, fuck, does he dare.
He copies the movements Roxas made with his tongue just a moment ago, surprised and immensely pleased when he hears a moaning noise. He opens his eyes again just as he's getting pushed down, and he thinks vaguely they shouldn't be doing this here, especially since –
That's not right. Things aren't supposed to go –
Oh, fuck, yes they are.
It's weird, having someone's fingers inside him, widening him, and he's pretty sure he knows what comes next. He's kind of scared but he figures – he did it once, even though he doesn't remember. He can do it again.
The movement is gone. Roxas is retreating and he wants to sit up and see what he's doing, but all of a sudden Roxas is pushing him a little farther onto the table and crawling over him and whispering, "Brace yourself."
He does, and it's not enough. He's not overcome by pain – it's not that bad – but by the sensation of wrongness, the way he's unnaturally stretched in a place he shouldn't be, but there's a hand rubbing him soothingly, and he bucks his hips upward accidentally.
He hears a muffled moan, and it makes him twitch, so he does it again. He feels the beginning of something, and hisses, "Move, dammit."
So Roxas does. He moves quickly, and then he moves slowly, and he always moves in a calculated way. That something keeps happening, sending jolts through his body, making him want to push the lips on his away so he can focus on matching the movement.
But he doesn't. He just hangs onto the blond's shoulders and wraps his legs around the blond's hips, using his heels to urge those hips forward, harder.
After that, it's not very long until he veritably explodes. Roxas is absolutely plowing into him, to use a vulgar expression, and he hears the table knocking into the wall forcefully, and the way hands are stroking him makes everything a whirl of feeling and muffled sound. The explosion sends waves of essence out of him, onto his stomach and chest, and when it's over and he's panting, he wishes he'd taken off his shirt.
It's a few moments before Roxas finishes as well, biting down harshly on Axel's bottom lip and making a noise between a growl and a moan. He pulls out of Axel, and lies down beside him on the table.
"I've wanted you so bad,"Roxas whispers. His hand is suddenly taken by a slightly smaller one and Roxas kisses his knuckles once. "So bad."
And then that person, that person who is called Axel who is me, realizes where they are.
"Fuck," he says, and wonders if he should have pushed Roxas away. But he isn't sure if Roxas would have stopped, and he doesn't want to think of the blond as a rapist, so he pushes it out of his mind and says it again.
"Fuck."
snap. flash.
That person, that person who is me, doesn't see him for another week. He managed to pass his limp off as an accident in which he fell down some concrete steps and hurt his tailbone, and it's gone when he sees Roxas again.
"How are you?"
It's after hours again, and he decides he really wants to know. "How do you keep getting in here? I locked the backdoor."
The blond's eyes widen almost innocently, and Axel is immediately suspicious. "I didn't know it was locked. It didn't seem locked, at any rate."
Now he's just puzzled. "Oh…I thought I locked it."
"Maybe it's one of those sticking locks. If you don't do it carefully it won't lock properly. I didn't want to knock on the front door like a needy moron." He gives him a funny-looking grin. "Even though I am a needy moron."
"Roxas," he says, rolling his eyes. He's surprised at how easy it is to feel secure around the blond, despite only interacting with him three times – two of them intensely sexual, and one of those he can't even fully remember.
"Axel," the blond replies, but it's breathy and sensual and not mocking at all.
He swallows hard and scrubs violently at a rough patch where some idiot spilled cream and didn't bother to clean it up. "So…you never answered my question," he nearly stutters. "How are you?"
"Fine, fine." Roxas sounds distracted. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see vivid blue eyes watching his movements intensely. "You?"
"Pretty…pretty good. Just…working." This makes him remember. "I had to tell everyone I fell down concrete stairs, Roxas. I blame all subsequent taunts and vaguely hidden snickers on you."
"Would you take it back?"
"Of course not," he scoffs, before he realizes he didn't mean to say that. It is true, but he wasn't planning to tell anyone. Not even himself.
"Oh, good," Roxas breathes. "I wouldn't take it back either."
"But," Axel says, finally chancing a full look into the blond's face. "We really have to stop meeting like this. I don't know anything about you, and as far as I know, you don't know anything about me."
"Are you asking me out?" He's drawing nonsense with his fingertip again, and Axel wonders idly how such a ridiculous gesture can be so flirtatious.
He scratches his cheek. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am."
"But you're straight."
He doesn't appreciate being taunted. "Maybe you just forgot girls don't have dicks and they certainly don't put them inside you."
Roxas only folds his arms and looks him over, starting with his eyes and moving slowly downward until they hit the counter. He shifts uncomfortably, but his tone is slightly cocky when he asks, "Like what you see?"
"Oh, absolutely."
That person, that person who is called Axel who is me, laughs and doesn't feel flattered in the slightest. But he does agree to meet at the Old Mansion at noon.
snap. flash.
"I didn't know they turned this into an art gallery," he muses. "I remember sneaking in here when I was little. There's an old computer lab in the basement. I used to try to turn it on, but it never worked."
"That's because it's old," says Roxas. He's got Axel's hand in a firm grip and his left hand in his pocket. "I actually used to live here. You probably sneaked in while I was sleeping upstairs, actually. My dad was crazy – he fought in the war with Neverwas and used a touch of insanity to keep himself sane afterward, and when we found this place he didn't want to fix it up at all. My mom – who was also crazy, though I'm not sure why, said someday we'd all be killed by the mold and dust; but she liked the old look too. She was right, by the way. Well, I wasn't killed by it. So I packed up and sold this place to the city, and they fixed it up like this."
"I'm…sorry?" He's not, really, but it seems like something he should say if he's trying to be a sympathetic date. Which he is.
"Don't be." Roxas laughs, and for the first time Axel notices how empty those laughs are. "I'm not. What were your parents like?"
"Not quite as crazy as yours," he admits. "My dad was a painter. My mom worked for the tabloids. Did you see those articles ten years ago, about the government conspiracy that turned out to be true? My mom wrote those. But here's the thing: she didn't believe the story at all. She was just trying to do her job."
"Let me guess. She didn't get a pay raise, but they sent her after even more ridiculous stories?"
"Got it in one. She used to come home hopping mad, complaining about how so-and-so was an idiot for thinking an alien colony lived in her son's ant farm, and just because one crazy story turned out to be true, it doesn't mean it will happen again. My dad would just flick paint at her and tell her to 'chill out.' It usually got in my food." He laughs. "My family was crazy, but we were always pretty…well, I never wanted a better family."
"Where are they now?"
Shrugging, Axel replies, "Hell if I know. They went to Destiny Islands for a 'second honeymoon' once I turned nineteen and ever since then I haven't seen them in person. I get a lot of postcards though. The last one was from Traverse Town."
"I've been there," Roxas comments idly, staring at a painting of some dark creature labeled Heartless. "How many years has it been?"
"Er…almost one?" Suddenly he gets a very bad feeling when Roxas starts and drops his hand.
"…Oh."
"What?"
"Well…er…I didn't realize you were so…young."
He raises an eyebrow; Roxas looks younger. He realizes he's never thought about the blond's age, but he looks to be eighteen, nineteen at most. "How old are you?"
"Twenty-four," he murmurs. "I've got to go."
"Wait a sec!" He grabs Roxas' hand again. He's surprised there isn't a struggle. "Why do you even care? It's not like I'm a little kid."
"Of course not…it's just that my grandmother said…"
"Hmm?"
"Never mind. Let's go get some sea-salt ice cream, yeah?"
"…Sure."
He wonders what Roxas is hiding…and how many whats there are.
snap. flash.
Of course it doesn't last long. It's only their fourth date and Axel is pinned to the wall just inside his house. He's never brought anyone here, not even classmates, but Roxas is there and moving against him deviously.
Decadently.
Deliciously.
Damn.
"Roxas," he says – moans, really, moans like a whore or a woman giving birth. It's painful enough, the way he's being teased.
"Axel." Is it just him or has the heat just turned on by itself?
Just a name, just a name, just a name. "A-xel…"
Not just a name at all.
"Oh, god…"
"That's not my name." The blond is panting. Between nips at Axel's collarbones he breathes, "Where's your bedroom."
Not even a question. An order. He wants more.
"First right-" He can barely breathe, the way his hips are being held and his neck is bitten hard. He finally manages to get out, "Down the hall!"
"You lead."
He doesn't hesitate. He grabs Roxas' hand and pulls him down the hall, barely managing to reach the bed before he's assaulted again. He knows his neck is going to be red or even bruised tomorrow and it doesn't matter, don't tease him like that.
He's impatient and doesn't bother asking permission; he just works at Roxas' belt buckle, fumbling when the blond grinds his hips downward with eyes halfway shut. "Stop, I can't…can't focus…"
There are fingers on the button of his own black slacks, the sound of a zipper, and Axel finishes his self-appointed task just as Roxas decides to stroke him through his red boxer-briefs.
There is no hesitation, just sensation. He loses his pants quickly, tries to help Roxas out of his, but his hands are batted away. He's quickly but methodically stripped bare, and he has no time to be embarrassed because teeth and lips move up his chest and neck and he feels a very rigid pressure on his groin. That's Roxas, he thinks. Because of me.
Their lips connect and as Roxas straddles him, he watches – entranced – as white shirt with black sleeves is thrown off, exposing a toned chest.
What does he do for a living –
Who the fuck cares?
When it's over, and the world stops spinning, they're mingled with each other, lower bodies covered with a mixture of both their releases. He has so many questions.
Why me?
Are you for real?
Are we still going to date?
But the only question he can voice is, "Why aren't you…what was different this time?"
Well, that was ridiculous. But Roxas seems to get it. He rolls to the side, leaning up on one elbow to lay a light kiss on Axel's lips.
"You," he says, and kisses him again before continuing, "have work tomorrow."
And that person, that person who is called Axel who is me, decides he wants this. Wants to keep Roxas around. Even if they met while Axel was on duty at the coffee house. Even if they've had sex twice and this form of not-sex, but they've only been on four dates.
snap. flash.
Two months.
Two months and they've still only been on four dates, but Axel knows plenty of important things.
Roxas doesn't like to talk about work.
Roxas' parents were named Sora and Kairi.
Roxas had a grandmother named Naminé, who told him something.
Roxas has had several one-night-stands, but his first romantic experience was with a girl named Olette.
Roxas' second romantic experience was with Axel.
Roxas knows Marluxia – the enemy – through Larxene – the friend of the enemy. They work together, doing…whatever it is Roxas does, and despite the great chemistry they seemed to have while dancing; they can barely tolerate each other.
Roxas likes sea-salt ice cream.
Roxas hates breakfast foods in the morning but he'll eat them for dinner.
Roxas hates music made after the '50s, with the exceptions of soundtracks and Queen. Freddie Mercury, he said once, had the voice of a god. So I can forgive him for his chosen genre.
Roxas knows – and can sing without difficulty – every single song from Avenue Q. He refuses to admit fondness for the play, however, and changes the subject whenever Axel wonders aloud if he ever starred in it.
Roxas only drinks water, espresso, orange juice, and vodka. But never at the same time.
Roxas plays the piano, and Axel can tell every time he plays silent melodies on Axel's body and makes him sing along in the form of moans and gasps.
snap. flash.
It's quiet, but not because they're lying still. It's quiet because Axel has fabric in his mouth and his arms tied to each of the bedposts at the head of Roxas' bed. It's quiet because Roxas is a master of silence, and Axel wishes he wasn't blindfolded because then he could see how much Roxas wants him. Because he can't hear it.
His legs are spread wide and he's fairly sure he'll spontaneously combust if Roxas doesn't move, now, but he seems to be taking his time. Why, why, why?
But gentle kisses are placed along his collarbones, pianist fingers run along all of the sensitive spots on his body, and the way Roxas moves when he finally does…it's not sex. It can't be.
When his wrists are released and the blindfold is taken off, when the cloth is out of his mouth and Roxas is asleep beside him; that person, that person who is called Axel who is me, wonders why Roxas wanted to make love to him for the first time when he couldn't see, couldn't say anything, couldn't reciprocate.
snap. flash.
Roxas doesn't live in his apartment any more. It's easier, Axel said once, to just live together. They spent too much time at each other's places for Roxas to continue to pay for a space he didn't need.
That was on his twentieth birthday, three months after they met, two months ago. He doesn't know how the time has passed by so fast and he still can't figure out what Roxas does for a living and…it's really not okay with him, but he won't ever bring it up.
Roxas is like a whirlwind, blowing him away without his consent, taking him to places he never thought about going but likes once he's there.
He wants to spend his life with him, wants to keep him. Wants to wake up next to him every morning and kiss him and laugh when Roxas comes home angry. He's always angry because apparently his coworkers are incompetent assholes who can't do anything without him.
He's climbing ladders Axel can't see, climbing higher and higher and actually stopping to catch him when he loses his grip on the invisible rods. He's dragging him to new places, possibly even new heights, but even though he can't see the ladder he can't see beyond it either.
Are they going up at all?
snap. flash.
That person, that person who is called Axel who is me, panics when he wakes up to an empty bed. On the dresser there is a note:
Called in to work. Be back late tonight. I love you.
That's not something Roxas ever says. And Axel panics.
Roxas does come back 'late.' He staggers through the doorway, clutching his chest, but not managing to hide the blood. He looks up, and it's like he's a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
"Thought you'd be asleep," he murmurs.
"And I thought you got called into work. What happened?" Axel is already almost at his side, which is a good thing – so, so good – because Roxas' legs give out and blood drips out of his left pant leg.
"I fucked up," the blond admits, slurring, before his eyes close.
"Yeah, I noticed," says Axel softly, and picks Roxas up. It's like he's all of a sudden fragile and weightless, but who's more fragile? Roxas, or Axel? If Roxas doesn't wake up tomorrow, will he break?
snap. flash.
"I fucked up," Roxas repeats when he wakes up in the morning, leaning against the pillows and holding onto Axel's hand like a tether.
"That's obvious." He tries to laugh but it's pathetically flat. Who is he kidding, anyway? "What exactly did you fuck up?"
"Everything," is the bitter reply. "Larxene…she's dead because of me. They're all dead because of me. That…that was my job, but…god dammit, my parents were assholes for dying and leaving me behind to clean up their mess."
Axel is quiet, not because he has nothing to say, but because Roxas has a lot to say and he knows by now that if he asks any questions they won't get answered.
"I grew up with them. Larxene, Demyx, Luxord…they were my best friends. My parents knew they were no good, but I didn't." He laughs hollowly. "In the war with Neverwas my dad's job was to deal with the Nobody army. They were like ghosts. No one could catch them. He dealt with the lower ranks, the servants. Dusks, Samurai, Assassins…but he never caught the ones in charge.
"I never wanted to get involved. Larxene tried to drag me along but I refused at first. Then my parents died. My dad's last request…was for me to destroy the Organization. So I joined – I said they were like family, which was true, but also a lie – and tried to forget about my dad's wish. But I couldn't. There were only six of us and I considered them family. So I tried to run away."
He squeezes the hand in his. He has no idea what he's supposed to say, or if he's supposed to say anything.
Roxas continues, in a funny tone, like he's incredibly relieved to be able to say all this. "Eventually they caught me. I came back, apologized, told them Twilight Town kept reminding me of my parents. They didn't forgive me at first, but they needed me. When I met you…" He swallows and avoids Axel's wary gaze. "You were supposed to be an assignment. I was supposed to recruit you. But then I met you and I knew I couldn't. So I did the next best thing and pretended. I told them I was seducing you, that it didn't mean anything, but you'd follow me if I asked. I…it's not true. Right? Tell me it's not true. Tell me that was a lie."
He wants to say it. He wants to take away the hysteria in the blond's voice. But he can't. "It's true."
"Fuck." This is the first time he's heard Roxas whine like that and it's not a sulky whine, it's a whine that says I can't deal with it.
"But…were you really…was it real? For you?"
"The note I left you yesterday…I meant everything."
"And…how much did you know about me before you even talked to me?"
"…Not as much as I should have. Naminé told me you were twenty-four and easily led."
"Your grandmother?"
"Larxene's grandmother. She works – worked – with the Organization. I…killed her too."
"Killed as in murdered?" He shifts away a bit. This wasn't part of any scenario he could have imagined.
"Yeah. I had to…my dad, he…haunted me. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't…it was killing me to ignore his request."
He jerks his hand away and forces himself not to falter when he asks, "Are you even real? What do I even know about you?"
"You know that I love you."
"No," he says softly, standing and heading for the door. He needs time to think about all of this. "No I don't. I don't know. How can I?"
Even through the door he can hear Roxas start to cry and he forces himself not to turn back. He'll go back soon. He'll go in and talk things out. But not right now.
And that person, that person who is called Axel who is me, doesn't realize how much that decision will affect.
snap. flash.
He catches Roxas at the front door. Their eyes meet and Axel doesn't want to see that vivid blue because it isn't vivid any more. It's dull and Roxas looks like he might be dead soon, even without his injuries.
"Where…are you going? You're still injured." His mouth is dry and he swallows, trying to suck moisture in but it doesn't work. It just makes the walls of his throat stick.
"…Destiny Islands."
"What? You're just…leaving?"
"Well, yeah. No one would miss me."
"Are you fucking kidding me, Roxas?" Now he's angry, but he can't make himself take even one step toward the…one he loves. Damn, now is not the time to acknowledge feelings like that.
"You don't know me," Roxas spits. "How can you miss someone you never knew?"
"Fuck, that…that was just me trying to make sense of everything…don't go. Don't. Don't leave."
"I'm not going to stay. I have a future to look forward to." Axel notices Roxas refuses to look him straight in the eye, and he hopes that somewhere inside, Roxas doesn't really want to leave.
"What kind of future?"
"I was Brian."
He blinks. "Huh?"
"You were right, about Avenue Q. Now I'm going to try my luck in the films. I…" He swallows hard and pulls open the door. "Goodbye, Axel."
It's only once the door closes that he can finally move, but by the time he reaches the door a taxi is already driving away.
He doesn't cry.
He can't cry.
That person, that person who is called Axel who is me, just sinks to the floor and does absolutely nothing.
whir. click.