The walk back to Demyx's car was punctuated by quiet chatter, by the measured appearances of ghostly breaths made visible in the cold and two meandering trails of cigarette smoke. As if by some unspoken agreement, everyone was keeping their voices hushed, an occasional spike in spoken decibels on Demyx's part the sole exception. From animated hand movements to a speaking volume teetering precariously close to a tone deaf garage rock band, everything about the Northstar goalie seemed drastically amplified, and Hayner had a sneaking suspicion the term 'indoor voice' was unfamiliar to Demyx, or possibly something he didn't think applied to him.

While Hayner walked alongside Olette near the back of their procession, Selphie and Kairi were talking about upcoming second trimester elective classes. The scope of that topic soon exhausted, they moved on to a discussion of their new pre-game cheerleading warmup routine. Although he wasn't invested enough to ask for clarification, Hayner had to assume it was something performed off-ice so no one killed themselves or got a skate blade through either orbital. Meanwhile, Demyx had gravitated toward Tidus, Wakka, and Pence, along with Riku and Sora, who still hadn't left one another's side, and was talking about Northstar's win at State last season, Larxene occasionally interjecting with a snarky observation. Zexion trailed along beside them, not necessarily ignoring the conversation but also not really contributing, book held up close to his face and in the active process of destroying his eyesight, from Hayner's vantage point.

Then there was Roxas. Much to his surprise, Roxas walking along off to one side of their group still hovering around Northstar's grinder, for the first time this evening actually engaging in a way that required more than one or two word responses on his part.

For a time, Hayner listened as the two talked different forms of ice sports, as Axel called skating spins tricks and Roxas notably failed to correct him. Hayner also watched, occasionally stealing glances to his right, taking in a head of gaudy red that he vaguely remembered being visible at the edges of a hockey helmet as he watched their teams compete against one another a few times last season. He also heard Axel offer another cigarette, saw Roxas accept it, watched as his best friend cupped a gloved hand and slowed his pace enough to let Axel lean in close and provide a light for it.

"They seem to be getting along well."

Once again, Olette's voice startled him and Hayner had to force himself to keep walking without stumbling, stuttering, looking like a total moron, or a combination of all three. Dragging his eyes away from Roxas and Axel, he turned to her, expression schooled to neutral as she looked up and offered a smile.

"It's nice to see him enjoying himself." She inclined her head over toward Roxas, Hayner's gaze following a beat later. "He's had a rough couple of months."

Rough...

The word echoed in Hayner's mind, its meaning displaced by enduring distraction in light of the fact that Olette was still looking at him.

Roxas' Internet apocalypse hype-up was the first thing that came back to him, and Hayner had to exert an impressive level of self-control not to outright roll his eyes. The comments about Sectionals from the drive to his house returned next, then the realization about how much had changed for his friend since Sora had given up figure skating in exclusive pursuit of varsity hockey. From there, his gaze traveled up, away from Roxas, until it came to a halting pause the instant he caught a glimpse of Sora and Riku in front of him.

It wasn't just ice skating that Sora had given up. Deep down, Hayner'd already known that. The change had also encompassed most of the free time he would've typically spent hanging out with his cousin, time that it now seemed obvious had been reallocated to Riku.

There was nothing wrong with branching out and making new friends, Hayner told himself, all the while trying to reconcile that silent declaration with the image of Axel smoking with Roxas still preserving itself in the back of his visual memory.

But something about the connection Sora and Riku had been so quick to form seemed differently charged than the friendships Sora had with others. It was something about the way Sora looked at Riku, and the way Riku sometimes looked back at him. Hayner recognized the expressions, found them so starkly familiar, mostly because they reminded him of the way he was pretty sure he'd started looking at Olette from the day after Sadie Hawkins a few weeks back straight on forward to present.

He felt a nudge, looked over at Olette, and wondered if she could identify the nerves behind his own carefully schooled expression. He wondered if she noticed the way the everything around them seemed subtly different when the two of them were together.

Brows rising as though she were expecting something, Hayner found himself staring back, found himself toying with the possibility that she was performing the subtle art of female intuition and was just waiting for him to bring up the topic that'd been on his mind virtually every waking minute since early December.

He remembered a second later that he'd never responded to her comment about Roxas.

Crapballs.

"Yeah. I guess you're right," he finally uttered. Although she didn't comment on it, his response was a day late, probably well over a dollar short, and Hayner had the good sense to be embarrassed by how easily thoughts of Olette had distracted him. Again.

Reaching the street, Demyx started sprinting — scratch that, he was skipping — unmindful of the ice underfoot. The guy also happened to be the luckiest human in existence since, somehow, he had yet to appear unsteady or at risk of slipping. The destination in question was a Dodge Caravan, boxy in its wood-paneled exterior, with an early 80s make date that Hayner figured gave it a fifty-fifty chance of being older than him. It stood in stark contrast to the brand new Durango his parents had gotten him the moment he'd turned sixteen, just another not-so-subtle difference between public and private school kids in their area.

As Demyx dug into his coat pocket and emerged with a set of keys, he turned to everyone approaching and jangled them for emphasis. "Alright, you guys. Line up. It's first come, first serve."

Glancing at Hayner, Olette dropped his hand and stepped toward the van, pausing long enough for him to catch up and follow. As embarrassingly sentimental as it felt to acknowledge, the lack of hand contact was more than a little bit of a downer. Determined not to comment on it or consider the stupid feeling further, Hayner picked up his pace and they headed toward the back of the van together.

The line was less of an organized one-by-one setup than a double-digit high schooler pile-up around the vehicle's trunk.

"Slight amendment for the newbs!" Demyx's voice was boisterous, shrill enough to carry to the closest residences. "I've got dibs on the sitar, because duh. Everything else is fair game though."

Before Hayner could think to worry about the excess noise — or ponder what the crap a sitar was, for that matter — Olette was passing him a generously sized stir fry wok and retrieving a pair of metallic cooking tongs for herself.

Nearby, Demyx slipped a fabric strap over his head, which was connected to what looked like a guitar on a year's worth of street drugs. He adjusted the strap across his chest, the bottom-heavy instrument resting in a diagonal across the whole of his back. Gaze falling on the two of them, he offered what by now seemed like his trademark-wide grin and nodded toward their kitchenware. "Good choices. That'll make a boatload of noise."

Surveying the group, Hayner noted others with pots and pans similar to his. Most had paired up the larger cookware with some form of utensil to bang against it. There were handfuls of smaller forks and knives, even a few spatulas. Axel had a pair of plastic chopsticks to Roxas' frying pan, and Sora came away with a large metal soup spoon looking quite pleased with himself, no doubt a complement to the multi-holed colander Riku already had in his possession.

"Nokia boy!" Demyx bellowed. "I need a time check."

If Hayner had expected a sarcastic comment at being associated with a piece of technology Roxas wasn't even a huge fan of, he was well off the mark. Securing his cigarette between pursed lips, expression notably lacking in irritation Hayner had become accustomed to of late, Roxas fished out his phone, clicked it on, and studied it for a moment before responding.

"11:49."

"Uffda." Looking frazzled, Demyx ran his hands through his hair, fingers pulling on a few longer tufts at the top of his head. "We're gonna be cutting it close to get back." He took a few sprinted steps forward before twirling back toward the rest of the group, eyes on Roxas specifically.

"It's your job to keep us updated, okay?"

Not waiting for confirmation, Demyx made a grab for the person closest to him, which happened to be Zexion. Tugging him along by the forearm, Zexion let himself be pulled, offering a sigh while simultaneously securing the book he'd been carrying under his free arm.

"You know, wristwatches work just as well as cell phones for telling the time," Hayner heard him intone. Demyx's initial response was merely a short laugh as he picked up the pace, encouraging others to follow as he half-walked, half-jogged back toward the public access path.

"Next time I'll make sure I ask you instead then, cutie."

At the comment, Hayner almost choked mid-swallow. Nearby, he heard the crunching of shoes against frozen grass, followed up by Pence's voice announcing an uncontested, "Northstar students are friggin' weirdos."

Silently agreeing, Hayner couldn't help but note that Sora had been just as quick to reach for Riku's hand as though in mimicry of Demyx's earlier action.

With Olette on his right, Pence trailing a few steps behind him on the left, Hayner stared at the two boys in front of him, the connection via their hands more specifically. There was a lightness in Sora's step that seemed out of place with the churning of Hayner's own unsettling thoughts on how out of place it looked to see not one but two pairs of boys touching one another, however platonically.

"They're cute together, don't you think?"

Hayner glanced to his right, saw Olette looking up at him, eyes wide and expressive, and probably the sole reason for the sudden fluttering of nerves now forming in his stomach. With a feeling of increasing unease, he watched Sora pull Riku off to one side of their trail, then off down a subsidiary path. That way also led to the lake, as far as Hayner knew, but wound through another handful of residential properties as well, which was probably why Demyx hadn't chosen it in his haste to make up time.

Pence pulled up alongside them, shoulders hunched, nose shoved into the folds of his scarf.

"What I think is they're liable to get whaled on by someone getting the wrong idea if they're not careful."

"Wrong idea?" Olette's expression was a picture of innocent confusion.

"You know…" Pence's voice came out muffled, a result of his unwillingness to pull down his scarf and expose more of his face to the cold air around them.

"He means folks'll think they're gay or something," Hayner offered.

"Oh." Olette's expression shifted to dubious. "Well, so what if they are?"

As Sora and Riku disappeared out of sight, Hayner discovered he really didn't have an answer for her on that one.

Pence, on the other hand…

"Then they're liable to get beat on, like I already said."

"That's awful." Olette sounded affronted. "They're just holding hands."

Ahead of them, Demyx reached the shoreline. Hayner watched as he turned to Zexion, for once speaking low enough that he couldn't make out what was being said. Raising his forearm up in front of him, Zexion pulled back his coat sleeve, looked down at his wrist, then offered a reply, which Demyx amplified for the rest of them.

"Three minutes. Hurry up if you wanna be on the water by the time the clock strikes!"

With a light shrug as they increased their pace, Pence offered a parting thought before sprinting off. "It is what it is. I guess it's a good thing both are athletes with some decent fighting experience."

"And have lots of friends to back them up."

As Pence neared the shoreline, Hayner craned his neck behind one shoulder. The assertion had come from Kairi, words clear as day while three mittened fingers held her knit scarf beneath her chin.

By her side, Selphie's eyes flashed as she bobbed her head in agreement. "Yeah."

Although they didn't speak, Hayner saw Tidus and Wakka nodding too. Silently, he wondered if Roxas could be counted among their numbers if it ever came down to Sora needing someone to come to his defense, given the tenuous nature of their friendship at present.

Feeling a small, delicate hand slide itself into his own, Hayner didn't need to look over to know it was Olette. He also had no issue identifying the corresponding thrill of realizing they were touching again.

Without a word, they picked up the pace, slowing only to secure their footing as they exited the path and made their way back out away from the shoreline and onto the thick sheet of frozen lake water.

"One minute!" Demyx again. Then, "Zex'll start the countdown when we get to ten seconds. Prepare yourselves, compadres!"

As he spoke, Demyx adjusted the strap on his oddball instrument, reversed its position, and flexed the cold-reddened tips of his fingers against its strings. Gripping the wok a little tighter, Hayner watched as his friends all raised their various cookware noisemakers, then listened as Zexion uttered the last double-digit second remaining in the 1990s.

He got to eight before others started joining in. Seven, and the countdown rose in an enthusiastic crescendo.

"Six, five…"

Looking up at him, Olette smiled, and Hayner felt her light squeeze of his hand.

"Ready?" she asked. "We don't even need fake school dance mistletoe this time since the rules are different."

"Four, three…"

Hayner blinked, then glanced down at her.

"What?"

"Two, ONE!"

As pots began to clang, as an odd vibrato of plucked sitar strings and resounding shouts of, "happy new year!" rose into the air, Olette leaned forward, the arches of her snow boots rising until she was just tall enough to brush Hayner's lips with her own.

It took him a second longer to register the action, for his cheeks to flush with a surge of semi-flummoxed heat, before he was kissing her back, unmindful of the hooting and cat calls that followed, or of the fact that Demyx and Zexion were only a few yards away, kissing each other with the same sort of chaste enthusiasm.

Quite suddenly, it didn't matter a whole lot where Sora and Riku had disappeared, the implications of why they'd left even less so, or that he was just now beginning to notice that he hadn't seen Axel or Roxas since they'd exited the path. As Olette's arms wrapped around his waist through six sum layers of winter attire, as both lingered with foreheads inclined and touching even after the kiss had ended, Hayner felt one of Olette's arms shift just enough so she could clang her tongs against his stir fry wok a few times, then followed it up with a quiet laugh.

"So far, it seems like I have to start everything in this relationship."

Although the tone was chiding, her eyes were bright, smiling, illuminated by the dim moonlight above them.

"Maybe in the new millennium, you'll be more quick on the uptake."

o - o

Thirty seconds before midnight and they were already kissing, mouths pressed together, quivering lips a result of the physical heat passed between them and bone-chilling cold, both.

It'd been Sora's idea to take an alternate route to the water, Riku allowing himself to be tugged along without a word of protest at first. It was only when they'd arrived at a private dock raised up out of the water for the season, only when Demyx called the one minute warning, voice traveling from a considerable distance across the icy span of lake they'd only just arrived at, that Riku spoke up.

"I don't think we're going to make it in time."

Hopping from the narrow path down under the dock, hand still clasping Riku's and encouraging him to follow, Sora turned, eyes shining, breath misting the few inches that separated them.

"I know."

Pressing himself against Riku's chest, Sora reached up, mittened hands cupping either side of his face, coaxing an inclination of the taller boy's head down to his waiting mouth.

It only took another handful of seconds for Riku to find himself on the ground, back against the shore's embankment, Sora still kissing, the fabric of his mittens still caressing his face and neck, knees bent and spread out on either side of his own straightened legs.

They'd never done this in public before, not even when they could be somewhat confident that they were alone. They'd always been so careful about how others might interpret even the subtlest of their interactions, had even developed a vocabulary of veiled language and double meanings to communicate via text message, just in case someone else happened to read them.

Maybe it was because Sora was among friends and thought they could be trusted. Maybe it was hearing about the Northstar grinder's own purported orientation that'd done it, or seeing Demyx grab Zexion's arm on their way to the water. Whatever his unstated reasoning, Sora had been much more uninhibited tonight in his interactions with Riku, from brushing shoulders when he thought no one was looking to fluttering fingers with casual familiarity against the palm of Riku's gloved hand.

Apparently, this newfound brazenness also encompassed entwining their fingers and pulling him down a different path on their journey to the lake. Apparently, it meant surprising Riku with kisses, and straddling him in a spot that, although adequately dark, was definitely still viewable and public for someone to happen upon them.

It wasn't that he didn't like Sora's gestures of affection; far from it, Riku had never felt more wanted, more desired, than he did spending time alone with Sora, never more right and at peace with himself either. It'd been a long time coming, lonely years of taking girls to dances, of watching his friends brag about stolen kisses and jump in and out of relationships while he'd remained on the sidelines, trying his best to fit in while watching their effortless actions and wondering, sometimes even hating his own inability to enjoy the same sorts of dating games.

Then Sora had appeared, had made the varsity hockey team so young. Sora and come and changed everything. In many ways, then, it rankled that Riku now found himself rather unsuccessfully trying to stave off the sudden assault of all-encompassing, nauseating agitation that threatened to engulf him.

He'd been in so many athletic situations that actually warranted nervousness, had competed in major playoff games and down-to-the-wire matches where his teammates were relying on him to come through in the final few minutes with a miracle move. In this way, Riku was no stranger to pressure, whether introduced by others or self-imposed.

Nothing brought with it the kind of anxiousness associated with the possibility of the wrong person catching them both in a vulnerable position like where they were in now.

A year and three months. That was all it'd been since the stations had erupted with news that'd made his breath catch in the choking confines of a newly tense throat. That was how long since he'd become convinced he was never destined to live a normal life, or at least one that followed the same route as those of his straight classmates.

And it hadn't been enough time for him to forget about Laramie, not enough temporal distance to rid his mental vision of that smiling black and white image of a boy only a few years older than he and Sora were now — or to suppress the growing realization that trusting the wrong person could mean long-lasting consequences for them both.

Riku wasn't afraid to fight, didn't lack confidence that he would be able to one-on-one defend himself. No. It was Sora he worried about, Sora who he knew he couldn't always be around to keep safe.

Open and friendly and sometimes naive, it was Sora who'd thought nothing of holding his hand at every opportunity this evening, or of sharing his newfound revelation of identity with a cousin he trusted implicitly just a few months ago.

He'd shared their mutual secret with a cousin who was mostly no longer talking to him, or being a dick about it when he did, from Riku's view. It made him furious every time he stopped to think about how much Roxas' stony silence weighed on Sora's disposition, which usually engendered such cheerfulness, such undiluted joy at every other aspect of higher schooler life.

In truth, the anger toward Roxas was so starkly prominent because it was an easy place to focus in lieu of Riku's myriad associated fears. In truth, it was far more concerning to think about who else might find out as a result of Sora's admission to Roxas. Roxas he could handle, or ignore as had been his aim every time the little shit said something snarky or offered up a veiled insult under his breath. It was no secret that rumors spread fast in a small town, and this was the kind of gossip Riku particularly didn't want to get passed around.

Not by Roxas. Not by anyone.

It also wasn't something he wanted Sora to have to endure on his own once he graduated next year and went away to college. If there was one thing Riku understood, it was being surrounded by friends, being praised as an athlete and envied for the social popularity that came with it, only to know deep down that no one truly knew him, that he would be unequivocally on his own if he ever considered being honest about himself.

Whooping cheers sounded in the distance and Riku tilted his head to look over Sora's shoulder, eyes darting, surveying carefully, making certain no one was looking their way. The abrasive sound of pots and pans and silverware colliding together drifted over to them next, followed by the observation that Hayner and Olette were sucking unrepentant face in plain view without fear of reprisal from those around them.

No surprise about those two, Riku thought. They'd been making puppy dog eyes at each other all throughout the evening.

But, wait.

He looked again, this time more carefully.

Was that...

Riku blinked, not entirely convinced what he was seeing was accurate.

Demyx and Zexion?

Above him, Sora shifted his weight, the soup spoon following a moment later to clang against the colander Riku had long since abandoned by his side in favor of placing tentative hands around Sora's coat-covered hips.

Forcing his gaze away from the sight of two Northstar boys celebrating mere feet away from Hayner and Olette, Riku looked back up in front of him, took in cold-matted brown hair under the fleece of a beanie and blue eyes that tapered naturally along each side every time Sora smiled.

"Whatcha thinking about?"

There were so many ways he could answer, so many comments about what he'd just seen taking place across the lake, and the temptation to utter the name of a boy not so much older than them who'd been attending school in a small Wyoming town not all that different from Minneapolis' suburban south metro where they found themselves now.

All these thoughts, and every confusing feeling, caught in his throat. Each forced a thick swallow, the remnant berry of chapstick on Sora's lips still lingering in his mouth.

"Hockey," he said instead, voice quiet. "It's just a few more days until we start practicing again."

He worried that the answer might disappoint Sora, thought maybe he'd been searching for a more meaningful response. Just, something, maybe anything, other than sports, Riku figured.

Despite his concern, a bright smile emerged, chill lips subsequently nuzzling, nipping gently against his neck in the seconds before Sora slid off his lap and lowered himself to a seated position beside him.

"We'll get to see each other every single day again then, right?"

Stealing a glance at Sora out of the corner of one eye, Riku swallowed again, the feeling of uneasiness about revealed mutual secrets still warring against encroaching warmth at the thought that Sora was looking forward to seeing him during hockey practice on a daily basis. The feeling was mutual.

"Right."

The word brought with it a sense of resounding calm, and Riku felt some of the tension he'd been holding all evening dissolve. Eyes returning to the group in the distance, Riku quirked his head, expression turning considerably more cynical.

"I was also wondering what kind of insult 'pretty boy' is."

Next to him, Sora snorted, breath a quick burst of cloudy air pluming out in front of them both. "It's a lame one, that's what it is."

With a small smile, Riku leaned over, brushed shoulders with Sora. "I think you took more offense at it than I did."

"Yeah, well." Pushing himself up to his feet, Sora shrugged a little, then brushed the layer of crusted ice from where it'd accumulated on his jeans. "It's too bad it's not PC to beat up girls, that's all I'm saying. Otherwise her ass would've been grass."

A silvery eyebrow rose at the comment as Riku looked up at the determined expression Sora was now sporting. "And you're the lawnmower in this scenario, I take it?"

The expression ceded to a wide smile. It was a look that never failed to permeate the wall Riku had always been so adept at constructing to counter the prospect of revealing personal thoughts or feelings.

"Oh, you bet. One hundred percent, definitely."

Glancing toward the group still noisemaking and goofing off in the distance, Sora offered another toothy grin. "And you'd be the janitor mopping up the slop when she beat me to a bloody pulp before I managed to get half an insult out. Did you see how hard she hit Demyx in the shoulder? Talk about leaving bruises."

He turned, sprinted a few steps further, then stopped to wave his soup spoon in the air above his fleecy hat. "Now c'mon. Let's catch up with the others. I want to see if Roxas is still hanging out with that grinder."

At the mention of his cousin, Sora's expression grew wistful, and Riku took a moment to wonder just how many positive thought reserves Sora had at his disposal before Roxas' continued iciness found purchase and started to fester.

An instant later, the expression vanished. Sora was looking at him and smiling again.

"'Cause, seriously. A figure skating smoker — whoda thunk? Maybe the world really is coming to an end and Roxas was right all along."

Without another word, Sora turned and took off. Slipping and sliding and skidding his way out toward friends, both Northstar new and longterm-childhood, Riku kept his eyes on Sora, then pushed himself to standing. He moved to follow a boy who'd never failed to make him rethink everything he knew about himself, and about his life, each and every day longer they spent with each other.

o - o

"So, why are you looking at your phone every ten seconds? Tell me again."

Glancing up and away from the pixellated Nokia clock face, Roxas was tempted to offer a shrug as his sole form of answer. It tended to irk people like Hayner when he became non-responsive, yeah, but it was also effective in getting them to leave him alone or drop a subject.

That was just the rub though. Roxas wasn't sure he wanted Axel to do either.

As the rest of their group continued down toward the lakeshore, as Sora not so subtly directed Riku down an alternate path, Roxas slowed his pace and let the others go on ahead, then trudged over to a wrought-iron bench at the edge of the trail. He brushed a layer of snow off the flat surface, then sat, noisemaker frying pan placed between both feet and watching as Axel slid his pair of drumstick-reminiscent chopsticks into one of his back pockets.

"You've heard of Y2K, right?"

A few feet away, Axel lit his third cigarette, expression thoughtful as he took a long nicotine drag.

"That's the computer bug thing everyone's been freaking out about."

As he spoke, Roxas watched the lazy curl of smoke wreaths float up and away from Axel's upturned face. There was something almost hypnotic about the way Axel spoke, about the way he subtly moved while speaking, from the tilt of his chin and the narrowing of intelligent eyes as he considered the question to the faintest rise of one side of his lips.

Roxas nodded. "Yeah."

Another drag, another plume of smoke, and Axel shrugged. "So, that's it? You're just checking to see if your phone's still working in, what, T-minus three minutes, give or take a few seconds?"

A bristle of defensiveness rose up from his lower back, and Roxas scowled into the empty space between Axel and himself.

"It's about more than just cell phones." Although making an effort to curb his frustration, there was no mistaking the testy sentiment in the tone he'd just answered with. "It's about technology failing on a massive scale. Like, airplanes use computers too, you know? Maybe even bombs."

"Bombs," Axel echoed, one brow rising along with the corner of his mouth.

"Bombs. Yes."

Bracing the bench with the flats of his hands, fingers curling over the edge and shoulders hunched, Roxas looked up at Axel, expression somber, trying to convey the seriousness of the impending technological disaster. "No one knows what's going to happen. That's what's scary about it."

"No one ever knows what's going to happen in the future, if you want to be technical. You didn't know you were going to meet me and my friends tonight, and we're not all that scary." Expression turning arch, still looking off down the path where everyone else had disappeared, Axel chuckled a little to himself. "Larxene possibly excepted."

Before Roxas could think of a convincing counter argument, green eyes turned, fixed themselves squarely on him. The scrutiny was light, more curious than severe; nevertheless, Roxas found himself rooted in place under the weight of Axel's gaze.

"And bombs concern an ice skater how exactly? Explain that one to me."

"Figure skater," Roxas automatically corrected.

With a forming grin, Axel approached, sat himself down next to Roxas. Even seated, the height difference was easily perceivable, Axel's knees extending a good six inches further beyond his, two thin shoulders covered by a faux leather jacket in line with Roxas' own eyes, or maybe just his nose if he sat up as straight as possible.

"My bad. Figure skater it is, then."

The words came slowly, offered up in an assured, milky drawl that Roxas found himself wishing he could equal in self-confidence, even if just by half. They also sent a prickle of heat up the back of his neck, reminded him of the way Riku looked at Sora when he thought no one else was watching.

In the two minutes left until everything fell apart, something already broken within him began to reform. Bolstered by the nonchalant way Axel was looking at him, it began to rebuild itself into something new, if not entirely yet whole.

It was something about himself that Roxas had inherently always known, something that he'd mentally sparred, waging a silent war with every mutinous thought or action that slipped its way out through carefully maintained mental fortifications and threatened to expose him to everyone else.

He'd been so good at exuding indifference, in keeping everything together, compartmentalizing the personal and private and storing it away from that which was socially acceptable to outwardly do or say.

Then Sora had gone and revealed the same truth to him in confidence, and in such a rawly honest and effortless way. Instead of seeing it as an encouraging opening and following suit, Roxas had stifled his own revelation, had repressed it and punished Sora for being the braver of the two of them. He'd spoken to his cousin subsequently, but only when social convention required it, had otherwise ignored every call and email, even down to each last text message until his phone's inbox began sending him warnings that it would soon be full.

He hadn't picked up the phone calls, or looked at any texts or emails, didn't want to hear what else Sora had to say on the matter.

Yet somehow still, he longed to talk about it, maybe not to Axel, but to someone who wouldn't judge or reject him. In the past, that someone had usually been Sora, sometimes Hayner. In his mind, and for this subject, it could be neither.

Really, all he wanted was someone he could trust just to listen, someone who would offer support over condemnation. The knowledge that he had neither scared Roxas more than he wanted to acknowledge.

"It's just as hard as hockey, you know," he spoke up, forcing down the rise of unwanted feelings he still didn't know how to reconcile with the reality of small town high schooler life. Although he kept his gaze trained forward, Roxas could still sense when Axel turned his eyes toward him again.

When that subtle shift in focus wasn't followed by another form of immediate response, Roxas continued talking, this time veritably rambling.

"Skating requires the same sort of stamina, jump technique takes years to learn, and it's not easy making it look like what you're doing is effortless at the end of a four minute program. Skating's hard, but people make fun of it and say it's girly because of the music and costuming, which is a total load of bull."

He wasn't sure why he was ranting about this; beyond a few good-natured jokes offered sparingly throughout the evening, Axel hadn't done or said anything that'd implied he looked down on the sport. As much as Roxas didn't want to admit it, this probably also had something to do with Sora and his newly perceived masculinity for choosing to pursue hockey. He was the only one who had to endure gay jokes now, when before they'd been able to laugh them off together.

One leg crossing over the other, Axel leaned back, long fingers reaching into the pocket of his jeans. "I know." Despite the rant he'd just had to sit through, his voice was calm. "I've seen you compete before. And I'd even be willing to concede it's harder than hockey since you guys don't wear padding."

"Wait." Taken aback by one admission more than the other, Roxas glanced at him, watched as his hand emerged from his jeans pocket with a small plastic container. "You've seen me compete?"

"Mm-hmm." Axel nodded. "That figure skating version of a qualifying playoff was all over the papers, so I decided to come check it out and see what a hotshot you were myself." Axel's grin rose in tandem with an extended hand, palm up. "Want a Tic Tac?"

Eyes widening, face soon burning with the realization that Axel had seen him tank a triple salchow in a moment of mortifying clumsiness, Roxas looked away, gaze dropping back down to his phone. For once, it wasn't to check the time but rather out of the want, maybe need, to look somewhere other than at the boy smiling so foxily back at him.

"No, thanks."

He heard the rattle of Axel's breath mint container, saw the heel of his dark lace-up boots as they ground what remained of his own cigarette dropped a second ago to their feet, heard Demyx bellow out a one minute warning that set his molars to a slow, aching grind.

What he hadn't been expecting throughout all of this was a shift in Axel's weight, or the subsequent feeling of lips against the side of his face.

Thoughts running through every single possibility for Axel's newfound proximity, seeking a logical reason for the cool spark of lips against increasingly flushed skin, Roxas froze, ultimately conceding that there couldn't be any other reason beyond the outright and obvious.

But this couldn't be happening. He hadn't given any outward indications that he was attracted to…

Lips moved from his cheek up closer to one ear, Axel's breath sending a shiver down Roxas' shoulders as warm air reached him, then frosted against his skin at the behest of a windchill uninterested in making gendered distinctions between those offering affectionate gestures within the scope of its seasonal realm.

His unfinished thought dissolved, scattered like snow flurries in a gust of wind, the scene around him fading in and out of focus. Celebratory sounds in the distance suddenly muted until the only two people who even existed for him were sitting on an icy-cold lakeside bench in suburban Minnesota, and the only thing that mattered was that Axel remained close to him.

He did. For a moment, the only sound was their measured breathing, supplemented by the indistinct visual haze of their corresponding exhales. Axel lingered a second longer; then, voice nearly inaudible despite how close he still was, he spoke to Roxas in a whisper.

"Is this okay?"

With words so quietly uttered, Roxas couldn't tell if they were being posed with uncertainty so much as an air of breathless expectancy.

"Because, if not, I can—"

Not waiting for Axel to finish, Roxas turned to him, and lips met lips. The kiss was tentative, innocent and investigative, as well as short-lived. But in that moment of mouth against willing mouth, and Roxas' gloved hands seeking two others in a neighboring lap, a feeling of hopefulness formed, however minute and as yet undefined. The world seemed to shrink momentarily smaller, its unfair prejudices growing more foreseeably manageable. The hooting and cheering in the distance didn't even register until both of them began to shiver, cold lips pressed one final time together. They both pulled away from each other, the hint of Axel's earlier grin still lingering, Roxas more surprised and wide-eyed, but determined not to look away.

It was Axel who stood first, eyes never leaving Roxas as he took a few steps away from the bench and back toward the path.

"Well, here we are." Demeanor once again easygoing, he waggled an eyebrow at Roxas, still seated and emotionally reeling in silence on the bench. "The moment of truth is upon us."

Roxas blinked, face a blank canvas of incomprehension until Axel gestured toward his phone.

Oh.

Oh.

Sucking in his lower lip, still savoring a remnant of smoky peppermint that had come from a mouth other than his, Roxas shifted the frying pan still nestled between his feet, then moved to press the power button on his phone.

12:02am
January 1, 2000

He looked up, stared at Axel, but said nothing, just watched as two brows rose simultaneously in patient expectancy.

"So, is the world as we know it over?"

With a light shake of his head that no more answered Axel's question than revealed his true thoughts, Roxas pushed himself up. His phone was working, which was as good a sign as any that technology was running as usual. Still, something about the way Axel had posed his question made him want to answer in the affirmative.

Because, in a way, the world as he knew it had just crumbled at its foundation, and he'd been left surveying ruins he now felt inspired to rebuild into something similar to what it'd once been. This time though, there'd be improvements, he decided. This was a new world he'd figure out how to build up by the foundation into something more solid and secure for himself, maybe even for others like him.

"Something is definitely over."

It wasn't a refutation of Axel's rhetorical question, just the plain, simple truth.

This time when Axel looked at him, it was Roxas who smiled. Mimicking the expression, somehow managing to reinforce it with more inherent confidence, Axel turned toward the path that led down to the water.

Retrieving the pan and moving to follow, Roxas stopped after a few steps, and looked down at the phone in his hand. This time, his focus was on something other than an impending date and clock face, on someone he'd been turning his back to for months now, specifically.

Nearby, Axel paused, turned to regard Roxas as he fiddled with his phone, fingers hovering over unfamiliar keys with no fewer than three alphabetized letters per button.

"You coming?"

The inquiry held no implication of impatience, and Roxas looked up, smile still lingering on his face like an unspoken promise.

"Yeah," he said. "Go on ahead, and I'll catch up. I have a quick text I need to send off first."


A/N: Riku's thoughts on Laramie, Wyoming reference a real event that took place in October 1998. Later deemed a hate crime, and ultimately paving the way for federal recognition of hate crimes perpetuated on the basis of sexual orientation in the US, Matthew Shepard's death had a profound impact on my own decision not to come out as a teenager growing up in a small town during the late 90s. In 2014, Laramie became the first city in Wyoming to pass an LGBT nondiscrimination ordinance, almost sixteen years after Shepard's murder.