Word Count: This chapter - 2,790; thus far - 4,457; in total - no clue, whatsoever.
Warnings, disclaimer, and etcetera still apply.
Roxas regretted giving Axel his number when his newest co-worker walked by him and said monotonously, "Moore, there is a phone call for you."
Granted, it wasn't even his cellphone number. It was the pizza parlor's where he worked at: Twilight Pizza. It was a desperate trick to not give Axel his real number, but at giving him Twilight Pizza's number, he had essentially given away the place where he worked out. Not even Hayner and his gang knew. Not even Sora and his stupid boy toy! (He didn't want them to come barging in everyday asking for discount. He liked his friends non-dead-by-too-much-oil-cholesterol-and-calories.)
"Moore, are you going to take the call?"
"Yeah! Ah, sorry 'bout that." Sighing with resignation, Roxas placed his gloves onto the counter top next to an empty pizza box and took off his plain white cap. He picked up the gray plastic phone and muttered, "Roxas speaking. Who is this?" As if there's anybody else. But Roxas couldn't help but hope that it wasn't Axel, and it was, by some miraculous-but-not chance that it was Sora or Hayner. At least, with them, he didn't have to deal with some annoying idiot.
Alas, his prayers went unanswered.
It was Axel's scratchy accented voice that replied. "Why'd'ja have to be so mean and give me the wrong number, Roxas?" The whiny tone grated on Roxas' nerves and he grind his teeth together.
"Because I didn't want you to call me, moron!" Roxas resisted the urge to say Duh! like a child, but it was a close call.
"I wouldn't have called you that much! It was just for the Organization's records!"
"Organization? Is that what you call your gang?" Roxas scoffed. Much like an idiot to have a stupid name for his moronic gang. Suddenly Roxas heard a ding and he turned around, still holding the phone to his ear. The pizza was done, and his co-worker was too busy packing several other pizza boxes into a bag. Roxas didn't see him staring at him through his peripheral vision. "You know what? I don't care. Don't tell me. And don't bother calling me again, I need to work." Without even a simple 'bye' Roxas hung up and snapped his gloves on and went back to work.
After he got the pizzas out of the oven and was about to finish slicing the pizzas, the new guy called out, "Moore, do you mind delivering these? I am rather... indisposed at the moment."
Roxas grunted, which he took as an affirmative, and Roxas closed the pizza boxes. The other guy took over then and Roxas slid his gloves off again. Without bothering to ask where the boxes were to be sent, he picked up the bag and grabbed his keys. He didn't want to stay in the parlor any longer than necessary. Axel might call again. He'd just look at the receipt where the address was at anyways.
On the drive to Atlantic Ave., Roxas tried to ignore all thoughts associated with Axel. Instead, he turned his attention to the newest worker at Twilight's Pizza.
Zexion was his name. Roxas didn't bother remembering his last name. No need to get too close to strangers.
From their little interactions and cooperation at the job, Roxas could only gather that he was a quiet, efficient guy. Man, really, considering how he looked like he was in college. Perhaps he needed the money to pay for school funding or something like that. He also preferred calling people by their last names, something about avoiding familiarity or attachments. He was also rather formal, always making sure everyone knew who he was talking to, and never using words that could need an apostrophe.
It reminded Roxas a little of those essays his old English teacher used to assign him. No apostrophes, no past tense, no overtly-familiar-usage-of-first-names. All that stiff, uppity stuff.
In short, Zexion was a bit of a party-pooper. Roxas sighed. Working just seemed a lot more boring all of a sudden. And if Axel keeps calling him, it'd be highly irritating as well.
By the time Roxas slid into the narrow parking space between a sleek, black motorcycle and a simple blue Mercedes Benz, Roxas was quite aggravated with the world. He sat in the car, listening to the radio croon some random song, before finally releasing his seatbelt and grab the bag of pizza boxes.
He exited the car and took slow, leisurely steps to the door, mentally calculating the total for the large pizza. He wondered if he could get a good tip, since the pizza was fresh and still warm. Mm, munny. That means he wouldn't have to walk home anymore and take the bus while waiting for Rai to finish fixing his skateboard. And that also means, less contact with Axel.
A small grin worked its way to his lips and Roxas found the right apartment at last. He pressed the doorbell button under 609 and waited patiently for the door to open. He fought to fight the creepy grin off of his face, and it was a hard struggle.
But when the door opened and Roxas saw the person, the grin slid off his face fluidly, like it was never there to begin with.
It was Axel, that bastard.
Axel with the stupid red hair, like a mane, gelled messily back. Axel with stupid green eyes, constantly twinkling in mirth and mocking him. Axel with a stick-thin frame, leaning dangerously against the door, about to fall. Axel, who had bags under his eyes, above his tattoos. Axel, who smelled of alcohol. Axel, who was standing in the doorway, in a room littered with trash, clothing, beer cans, and more trash.
Axel, who seemed surprised to see Roxas with pizza boxes. And Axel, who could only stutter out a slurred name. "Roxas?"
For one moment, Roxas imagined himself acting impulsively and grabbing the 20 out of Axel's limp hand, thrust the pizza in said redhead's arms, and run away while cackling maniacally.
While amusing – or hilarious – to perform, it wouldn't be a great idea. Axel could call the manager and leave a complaint. Roxas might get a threat or a dock in his paycheck. That'd be terrible! Mentally, Roxas wiped a sad tear away at the disappearing images of what could've been.
Acting as if he didn't know Axel, he read the receipt aloud, "Thank you, that'd be 16.43, please."
Almost immediately, Axel shot out his hand to take Roxas' shoulder. He missed by several inches due to his inebriation, and tried again – this time succeeding. He slurred, "Rox-Roxas. I kno-know it's you. Why are y-you de-denying it?"
Roxas hunched his shoulders, unable to shrug off the hand, and pulled the cap lower over his face. "Excuse me, sir. You're mistaken." His eyes lowered to the munny and he almost salivated.
Axel forcefully clasped his other shoulder with his other hand and tightened his grip to a nearly painful degree. He said, with the slur mucking a few words, "Ro-Roxas – Roxy. C'mon. Why you denying it? Why are you avoiding me? Wh-why did you give me the wrong nu-number?"
Roxas could almost feel his shoulder give in to Axel's thin, but strong fingers.
"Wh-why, Roxy, why?"
Roxas didn't know how to reply. It seemed that even far from being sober, Axel was still so sure of himself, still so sure that he's right, that Roxas is Roxas. It was one of the traits of Axel's that irritated him.
Roxas looked down, avoiding Axel's eyes, sure that if he were to look into those eyes, he would do something he'd regret. Like what, he didn't know. He didn't even know what kind of emotion would back up that action. Would it be hate? Irritation? Anger?
In the process of looking down, Roxas saw Axel's choice of clothing. Unlike before or his usual wear, he was wearing baggy, gray sweats and a large, unflattering orange sweater. His dangerously thin frame was hidden in the clothes, but Axel's bony grip still held him and reminded him of the nearly sickening shape and size of Axel's body.
Without thinking, his fingers lightly tugged at a loose thread from the sweater. Suddenly, one of the weights on his shoulder disappeared and his fingers were clutched tightly. They were squeezed uncomfortably and Roxas fought to loosen his hand.
"L-let go!"
"You even sound the same, Roxas!"
"Nngh. I swear – Just let go, damnit!"
Roxas felt the munny digging into his index finger, almost slicing his skin and giving him a paper cut. His other fingers tugged uselessly at the bill, but the bill, too, cannot escape Axel's grasp. With a pained grunt, Roxas drops the forgotten pizza boxes.
When Axel unexpectedly loosened his hold on Roxas, Roxas wasn't able to take his hand back. He was staring at Axel's eyes.
It was strange. Roxas couldn't tell if they were muddy with tiredness and drunkenness, or clear and alert and attention, or maybe even both. His hand dropped from Axel's hand, and Axel in turn released Roxas.
Weakly, Axel fell back and leaned against the door once more. "Look, I'm sorry." Surprisingly, his voice was now clear and intelligible. And his eyes – though still cloudy – seemed to sharpen and focused on him even more. "Not that you'd care. With your prissy ass, stuck-up... Argh!"
Roxas jumped up when Axel's fist flew and hit the wooden door with a resounding smack! and winced.
"Roxas, Roxas, Roxas. You're perfect. Your body isn't like mine. Broken. Scarred. You don't have to watch out for your weight ridiculously!" With the same hand, Axel angrily gestured toward his own body. Roxas took a step back, not admitting his fear, and his eyes trailed down from the eyes, down the shoulders, past the elbow, and onto the hand. It was a mess. That collision with the door scratched at the skin of the side of his palm and made it bled. With the gesture, droplets of blood splattered onto his clothes, permanently staining them.
"The scars-" Axel flung up the hem of the ugly sweater and with the other hand, pulled down the sweats' top. Roxas immediately looked away, not wanting to see the-
"Look, damnit! Look! The scars – aren't they hideous? You cringe and wince away, because you don't understand." Another step back. Roxas accidentally kicked the bag filled with a few boxes of pizza. Axel continued, regardless, "You don't understand anything! Not the hardships, not the escape I seek, not the drugs. Poison. Relief." He stopped, but his mouth was still open, fumbling for words. At this, Roxas looked up.
He sees the scars that Axel was talking about. There are a few small knife wounds, strange needle-like marks, and even some circular burns that might've been from the end of a cigarette. Axel's navel was littered with marks, nicks and scars and scabs and cuts, with small red hair dotting the skin. Roxas couldn't look away. There seemed to be a pattern to the scars and-
Axel clenched and unclenched his hand several times, the munny in his hands, crumpling. After a few deep, heated breaths, he sighed, and released the bill. With that sudden release of the grip, his sweater fell down over his stomach and the scars were covered again. Roxas let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in. His shoulders somehow loosened and his foot impulsively nudged the pizza boxes out of the bag.
"But... Roxas, you can. You do." Axel pulled up the sweats. And both of his hands held onto the clothing tightly, as if afraid they're going to fall off, or afraid they'll reveal something that he already shown. "You do, don't you? Understand. Something's different. The Organization. Don't listen. Please. It's dangerous."
Roxas worked his mouth. Open. Closed. Open. Closed. Before he could figure out what to say to this strange behavior of Axel's, another man walked up to the door. It was a dirty blond male with a mullet, and he pulled Axel inside and pushed him aside.
"Sorry, things got outta' hand. Ignore Axel. He's just rambling about nonsense. No need to remember any of it. Uh..." The blond bent down and picked up the munny and handed the bill to Roxas. "Just take it. Keep the change. Call it tips or something. Don't tell Zexion what happened here, though, 'kay?" It didn't seem like he wanted much of a reply.
"But – the pizza..." Roxas didn't know what to say. And what did his new co-worker have to do with anything? He gestured weakly towards the fallen boxes on the ground. The guy looked down and shook his head.
"Don't worry about it. Just go."
And Roxas complied.
Later, when Zexion was revealed that he was Roxas' manager, Roxas didn't know what to say. He hoped Zexion wouldn't take that against him and overreact by docking his pay or firing him. Or worse, fire him and then warn every other employer not to employ him. That'd be just his luck that when he can't find words to speak and he gets fired. He wouldn't know how to defend himself.
After the store was locked, the floors swept, tables cleaned, and money counted, Roxas listessly shuffled around the kitchen, dropping his sweaty cap and dirty gloves into a pile for washing. He grabbed his jacket off a coathanger and was about to leave, but the new manager stopped him.
"Ahem. Uh, Moore? We need to talk." Uh oh. What did that mean?
Zexion led Roxas to the inner parts of the kitchen away from the ovens and closer to the fridge. Roxas didn't pay much attention, and instead, he coughed and gave Zexion a look that said, 'Get it over with.'
Zexion raised an eyebrow and got straight to the point. "I got a phone call earlier. From Demy-" Another fake cough. "From, ah, a customer from one of your deliveries."
Oh shit. Did someone complain to his manager?
Seeing the stricken look on Roxas' face, Zexion sighed, crossed his arms, and leaned against a steel table that was meant for slicing pizza, not for sitting. "Let me get straight to the point. Listen to Demyx and forget what Axel said."
With the mention of that name, it was like a dam breaking. The thoughts that Roxas kept avoiding – How did he get those scars? Why are there needle marks in such an odd place? What the hell happened? Even if I hate him, nobody should be unfortunate to suffer. - suddenly imploded into his mind.
"Wh-what do you mean?"
"Don't think about it anymore. Forget it."
And with that, Roxas noticed what Zexion was wearing. Or more accurately, Roxas recognized the infamous, form-fitting black coat that belonged to the Organization, Axel's gang. Roxas then began to feel the trickling fear edging into his heart. What exactly did the gang do? Axel mentioned drugs, and coupled with the scars...
Zexion, seeing Roxas hesitate, wrestled with indecision. There were only two things to do. One involved truths, pain, initiation into a gang, and a lifetime of servitude. The other was a lie, perhaps further fascination, but maybe more of a chance of Roxas getting away. There was only one thing to do.
"Don't let him get to your head. Axel's just messing with you."
As easily as that, something cracked and another strengthened in Roxas' mind. Roxas felt betrayed at having been tricked, but a small, teeny tiny part of his mind believed Axel still. Why the scars, otherwise?
But Roxas stopped that part from growing too big. He put a stop to it and refused to believe the stupid crap that Axel spewed for pity just because he can't deal with his damn insecurities. 'Watch out for his weight?' What a bunch of crap. Axel is stick thin, what does he have to worry about weight so much?
Roxas felt his loathing mixed with pity towards Axel, who had too many unfounded insecurities and pities himself too much.
Author's Notes: Random comment: does anybody actually use the HTML button when submitting a document? Eh, I don't know. Well, this chapter is certainly longer than the ones previous. And add in Demyx and Zexion. For TheFallenOnes, I'm sure this isn't what you mean by Zemyx, but, hey, at least I introduced them to the story? Gah. So. Hate the rushed feeling of this chapter. But... yeah... Again, LiveJournal is quicker to update! Friends are loved! Much thanks to Lady Inverness, TheFallenOnes, Fail the real squid, rileyluvr13, and ShiguraSohmaTheYearOfTheDog for reviewing. :D I write for you guys!
Any comment is appreciated!