Being friendly with Axel during class and riding in the passenger seat of his car on the way home, Roxas came to learn, were two entirely different things. Entirely different feelings. Because being friendly with Axel in a school setting was fun; you could pick fun at him and he would pick fun in return, and that would be the end of it. In the passenger seat of his car (a 2009 green Ferrari California) things were more serious. Things were…real.

Apparently, Professor Axel lived very far out of town. He pulled out of the school parking lot with Roxas fidgeting relatively nervously next to him and began speeding down the deserted highway at 80 miles and hour, heading towards the southern outskirts of town. He didn't play the radio or his iPod connection, he didn't roll down the widows. He just…drove. It didn't take very long before Roxas couldn't handle the silence.

"So you live pretty far out of town?" He asked, turning his head to look at Axel. Said teacher cast him a sideways glance before focusing on the road again.

"I guess so. I don't really like the big-city atmosphere, so I holed up in the country." He frowned softy.

"Professor, its Rochester. I mean, its not a small city, but its hardly big."

"You can call me Axel while we're not in school. I don't mind." He completely ignored Roxas's question, taking an exit and several sharp turns to put them on a country road with no view of the city. Or the highway. Or any place other than here. It was, in Roxas's opinion, intimidating. But maybe that was only because he knew he would be stuck Here for the next week.

More silence. More driving. The blonde didn't understand how any one road could go on this long. It denied every rule of pretty much anything. After about ten minutes, he resolved to looking out the window, watching as acres upon acres of trees flew past them at lightning speed. For a country road, Axel's little sports car was going awfully fast.

Finally, finally, they took a long, easy right-hand turn and pulled up in front of a house. Or, rather, a mansion. Even by city standards, the place was huge. The porch alone had to be 500 square feet, decorated with country-styled rocking chairs and a whicker coffee tables. There were four pillars supporting the hanging-roof, each spaced evenly to allow room for the massive front door, carved with images that depicted what looked like some sort of holy battle. It was, in a word, beautiful.

"Whoa." Roxas murmured, quickly throwing himself out of the car, grabbing his backpack, and…gaping.

"You like it?" Axel asked, a smirk quickly sliding onto his face as he did the same.

"Hell yes! What's not to like?"

"Yes…it's quite beautiful. I'm lucky I actually took the time to read my uncle's will and figure out that he left this place to whoever claimed it." The redhead walked around the front of the car and went to stand beside Roxas, clasping his hands behind his back.

Then, reality swam into Roxas's vision. "Wait wait wait wait wait. Hold on for one second. You live here?" His expression quickly changed from one of awe to sheer disbelief.

"Well, I told you that you would be staying with me, didn't I? Why is it so hard to believe that this is my house?"

"You're a teacher!" Roxas yelled, raking his hands through his hair. Axel only stared at him expectantly, waiting for a deeper explanation.

"Teacher's can't afford this kind of house!" He spit out quickly, turning from the house to Axel to the car. He completed the entire circuit about four times before finally calming down.

"Yes, well." Axel muttered, walking behind the blonde and grabbing his elbow as he went, dragging him along. "I have…an alternate source of income. So come along, Roxy. This is going to be a very interesting week."

"Don't call me Roxy." The blonde protested, again struggling to keep up with his teacher's long strides.

"Alright Roxy."

--

Dinner came around eight. Axel had vehemently made sure that Roxas finished his homework within an hour, cleaned up the room he would be staying in, completely moved in, and set the table before he could finally relax. The worst part? Roxas had to do it all without complaining, or the deal was off. He would have to write a term paper.

However, by the time the meal was finished, he wasn't all too upset. The entire house smelled basil and oregano and tomato sauce, and he could hear Axel in the kitchen one room away amidst the clanking of pots against pans.

Then, all of a sudden, it stopped. The place was eerily quiet (Roxas had an idea that by the time he was finally used to it, it would be time for him to leave). However, it didn't take very long for Axel to burst through the double swinging doors that led to the kitchen and into the dining room, in one hand carrying their dinner and in the other two glasses of water.

He approached the table, setting the spaghetti down in front of Roxas along with his water, and setting his serving down at his spot and taking a seat. However, he didn't touch his silverware. He just looked at Roxas, an expectant expression on his face. He looked…normal, and surprisingly un-teacher-like.

"Well? Aren't you going to eat any?" He asked. He was breathless, as though he had just finished a marathon.

"Aren't you?" Roxas replied, staring at his food. It looked good, and there weren't any traced of poison…

He twirled some onto his fork the way he had seen many an Italian lady, then shoved it into his mouth like the hungry teenager he was. Naturally, it was delicious. Eyes widening in surprise, Roxas forked more of his dinner into his mouth, devouring virtually all of it in less then five minutes. When he looked up, he noticed that Axel hadn't even touched his own portion. Instead, he was watching Roxas with an amused look.

"Like it?" He asked, grinning. Roxas could swear he had never seen his teacher smile that wide. He could feel Axel unwinding, de-stressing, and altogether letting his defenses down.

"Its amazing. I never knew you could cook." He replied. Axel only shrugged and began slowly eating his own serving, handing Roxas another that had magically materialized in between them.

"Most people don't. But its okay. I don't mind." Roxas chose not to comment, and they ate in silence for a little while. Then, the blonde decided to let lose the question that had been nagging at the back of his conscience all day.

"So…you said something earlier about an 'alternate source of income.'" He stated conversationally.

"And you would like to know what it is." Axel said, giving Roxas an unreadable stare. "Am I correct?"

He nodded.

Axel returned the nod. "Very well. Let us finish dinner, then dessert, and I will tell you."

"…Just like that?"

"No. Of course not. You have to wash and put away the dishes once we're finished."

Roxas's only response was a groan.

--

"When I was little, I went to a family reunion. Its one of those things that no one really wants to go to; they have to because its an obligation. It was at that reunion that I met a certain uncle of mine. Uncle Hadrian. Uncle Hadrian was a very interesting man, you know. But somewhere along the line I got talking to him.

He wouldn't tell me exactly what it was that made him so rich, but I knew that he had ties in the Russian mafia from what I heard my parents talk about and that whatever it was probably wasn't exactly legal. But either way, he was filthy rich.

Another thing? He was really, really crazy. I mean, he wasn't like, hearing voices paranoid crazy, but he was pretty paranoid. Also, he was convinced that there was a hit out for him placed by the uppermost men in the Russian government. In short, not a lot of people talked to him.

That, and the fact that he was gay. The people in my family are very white-collar; they can't stand the idea of someone not being a while, straight Republican with a good, respectable job and a family to provide for. Which explains why when everyone ever spoke about him, it was never good.

My parents shooed me away from him before I could get to know him very well, and that was the last time I saw him until I was 16. I was afraid of coming out of the closet to my parents because I knew that they would most likely turn me into a taboo and kick me out of the house, so instead I ran away. To this mansion.

I'm quite sure that my family and I and the hired help were the only ones who knew how rich he was. He said to me that he couldn't risk publicizing his wealth. Since the family had nothing to do with him, it was just me, the maids, the butlers, and the chefs.

I came here first thing. I told him how I felt, not just about my sexual orientation but about my parents, our family, everything. I was trying to put myself on equal ground with him so that I could empathize with him; know how he felt and when he felt it.

However, instead of offering me wise words of comfort, he gave me a blank check with his signature on it and set me off into the world, to start my life. It was then that I decided to finished high school here in Rochester, go to college, major in psych, then go to art school.

After I graduated art school, I was so proud of myself that I came back here, to my uncle's, to thank him for the money, even though I knew he was just trying to get rid of me. However, upon walking into the house, a butler handed me the deed to the property, my uncle's will, and gave me complete and total control of everything.

Of course, I was stunned. I couldn't think of any reason for him to leave everything me, other than the fact that I didn't cringe away from him every time he was around. Then, upon reading his will, I found out that he didn't. It clearly stated that he was not planning on giving any of his money, estate, any of it away when he died. The first person to realize he was gone would automatically inherit it all.

I had bank account numbers, some of which weren't even in this country. I had this entire house, plus the vacation home in Italy and the small island he apparently owned off the coast of Chile. I had all of his money; billions of dollars, all tucked away in a small bank account. All of it was mine.

There was only one condition: I could only tell three people what had happened, or what he had given me. A condition that I had no trouble meeting. My parents and my older sister, the only one who didn't shun me, were the only ones who, as far I my knowledge extends, know. And now, of course, you.

I've fired all of the hired help, and I highly doubt that my uncle will be coming back from the grave to punish me, so I'm not worried. Plus, the information had probably leaked through my entire family already. Those who are still alive hate me too much to talk to me anymore."

Roxas was gaping. The story was almost completely unbelievable, but at the same time it made perfect sense. It was the reason that, before Axel had come to teach at his school, he had no past. It was the reason that he was able to afford the newest Ferrari and the Abercrombie clothes he was always wearing. It explained why nobody knew anything about him, except for Roxas.

"That's…" He was, naturally, at a loss for words. How did one respond to something like that? Axel had basically said that he now was in possession of his biggest secret, and he could whatever he wanted with it. The whole thing was overwhelming. It almost made Roxas wish he hadn't asked. Almost.

"Amazing? Unbelievable? Crazy? Or all of the above?" Axel asked, smiling. He and Roxas were curled up on his humongous faux-fur couch, Axel's hand resting softly on Roxas's ankle. The blonde didn't even notice.

"Its…awesome." Roxas finally, said, breaking out into a smile identical to his teacher's. "I wish something like that could happen to me. You know, aside from the family-shunning, uncle-dying part. That's kind of depressing. But everything else would be awesome."

"Would you like to know one of the reasons I became a teacher?" Axel asked, cocking an eyebrow. God Roxas wished he could do that. He tingled with envy briefly before realizing that he had a question to answer.

"Sure. Lay it on me."

"Because kids are the only people in the world who won't judge me for what I am."

"…You mean human? Why would we? We all are."

"Roxas."

"Yeah?"

"I mean gay."

Roxas, in response, snorted loudly. "Are you serious? That's like, ridiculous. I mean, homophobes are so stupid. They're just a bunch of narrow-minded Republicans who can't get enough of themselves so they need to make 21% of the nation's men and 22% of the nation's women feel bad. Its stupid. Plus…" He let the sentence fall into the air between them, shrugging.

Both of Axel's went up at his, and his finger's on Roxas's ankle twitched. "You mean you…?"

"Yeah. Big deal." Roxas shrugged again, feeling a blush heat his cheeks despite his nonchalance.

"Wow Roxas. I never would have guessed. Like…ever."

Like ever. Did teachers talk like that around their students anymore? Or, now that Roxas knew Axel's secret and Axel knew his, were they friends? Did their relationship now extend beyond the classroom? Beyond their deal?

"Most people don't. But I guess when you think about it a little it makes sense. I mean, I'm in an advanced art class, I've never had a girlfriend or been kissed, and my favorite part of the day, other than art class of course, has to be just between arriving at P.E. and starting. Also known as changing in the locker rooms. I guess I'm just good at covering things up. Always have been, always will be." In the course of a few sentences, Roxas spilled everything he felt about himself to Axel. Without even thinking. Was that wrong? Had he made a mistake?

However, Axel was just nodding slowly, smiling softly. "Alright. Well, you can trust that your secret will be safe with me."

Roxas felt a smile creep onto his face. "Really?"

"Yeah, of course. Who would I tell anyway? Your friends? I would gain absolutely nothing from sharing this with anyone, Roxas." He chuckled softly.

"Cool. Well, I think I'm gonna crash. Gotta get up early for school tomorrow, y'know?" He slid his feet onto the hard-wood floor and began padding down the hall to his bedroom.

"Yeah, I know. 'Night Roxas." Axel called, still sitting on the couch. "Sweet dreams!"

"Yeah, you too." Roxas mumbled under his breath, opening the door to his bedroom and slipping inside.