There you stood, holding me

Waiting for me to notice you

(Flyleaf)

"Xion," Roxas said, looking distraught. "I thought we talked about this. You saw how he attacked me. You heard what he said. And you," he added, turning to Axel. "How dare you even try to interact with my—with Xion. You're not good enough for her and you know it. I suggest you back the hell off before I punch you in the face and tell them it was self-defense."

Axel stared at him. "Excuse me?" he said, but Roxas had already stopped listening and turned to Xion.

"I think we need to talk," he said to her in a low voice, reaching for her hand. "Let's find somewhere away from here, shall we?"

"Roxas," Xion said, shaking his hand away. "Axel is a friend of mine, and I'd appreciate it if you'd treat him like one."

Roxas said nothing. He cast Axel a look that Axel could only have described as disappointed before taking Xion by the arm and leading her away from him.

Axel stared after them for a while, but when they disappeared through the doors to the student center, he turned and began walking back to his dorm. He didn't want to see Saïx, and he didn't want to face the night alone, but he had nowhere else to go.

The walk felt longer than it ever had.

But as he faced the door to the building and the sidewalk that led up to it, he heard a voice echoing behind him. He put a hand to his forehead, wondering if he was hallucinating again from the withdrawal. Of course, of course that had to happen out here—

A pair of arms latched onto his waist, and he turned to see Xion clinging to him, her flawless face streaked with tears. She pulled him close to her and sobbed into his shoulder.

"Xion—Xion," he said. "What is it? What happened? If it's something Roxas did, I'll punch him again, I don't care—"

She shook her head. "No," she murmured. "Don't go after Roxas. You'll only get in trouble."

"What is it?" Axel asked again, his voice softer this time.

"I broke up with him." She whispered the words into his sleeve so quietly he almost didn't hear them.

"Oh my God, Xion. Why?" Axel choked out. "I'm—I'm sorry. You didn't have to tell him I was your friend. You don't have to stay with me. I'll just cause you more problems." His voice caught at the end, and he chastised himself inwardly for sounding so weak.

"No, you won't," Xion insisted, tightening her grip on him. "Because you are my friend, Axel. I'm not letting you go."

His heart stopped for just that moment, when she spoke those words and clung to him as if he were her anchor. Slowly, Axel moved. One of his hands slipped around her waist, and the other threaded into her short, dark hair, pulling them together. He became vaguely aware that people were walking by, looking at them, but he didn't care.

After a long moment, they pulled away, Xion's face still streaked with the trails of those offending tears but her eyes no longer leaking new ones. Axel was trembling, both from the remaining effects of his withdrawal and from Xion's sudden tears and closeness. He took a breath, waiting for the words to come, for a second knowing they would, and then exhaling as they left him. Now was a very wrong time for those words. Instead he just looked at her, and she at him.

"I'm sorry, Xion," Axel said again. "You deserve better than me. I'm a mess."

"No, you're not," she answered and reached out, lacing her fingers through his. "You were there for me when no one else was."

Axel was silent. After a moment, he began, "So what was the actual reason that . . . ?"

"Because," Xion answered, and for a few heartbeats, Axel thought she would stop there. But she didn't stop there. "He said I was letting you get in the way of my feelings for him. That I was letting you interfere."

"That's bullshit," Axel said, wishing thereafter that he could take it back. He kind of wished it wasn't bullshit anyway.

"Not really," Xion told him, and his eyes widened. "You told me . . . You said he . . ." Her eyes filled with tears again, and he longed to reach down and wipe them away. "You said he was being overprotective, and at first I thought that was impossible—I thought you were trying to be rude." She winced when she saw the look on his face. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Axel swallowed. He hadn't been quite in his right mind that day; his latest dose had just worn off and he'd been craving the next already. He'd regretted the conversation immediately after. "I'm the one who should be sorry."

"No." Xion shook her head. "I went back to work after that, and I thought about what you said. I didn't want to believe it, but . . . Roxas confronted me later and demanded to know where I'd been, why I hadn't told him. I told him I was working, but he was mad anyway. . . . I started to think you were right."

Despite the lurking sense of triumph he felt deep inside him, Axel wanted to tell her that it was still his fault. He'd made her mistrust Roxas, doubt herself, question their relationship. He'd put that thought into her head. He . . .

Haven't you learned that you can steal another man's girl if you want to? Demyx's voice said in his head.

His head started to pound, and he turned away from Xion, putting a hand to his forehead. "Damn."

"Are you okay?" Xion asked, her hand tightening around his.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a headache." He blinked, trying to keep the world from blurring around him.

"Is it because . . ." Xion trailed off. "Do you need help? Do you want me to go back with you?"

"No," he answered. "No. I'm fine." He just felt like the world was going to split into a million pieces and drop him straight to hell. But, he supposed, that was what he always felt like. "I'll just . . . I'll just go to the infirmary and lie down for a while."

He needed his next dose. He was long overdue for his next dose.

"Are you sure?" Xion asked. "Axel . . ."

Her lips whispering his name sounded like the voices of a thousand shadows. He wanted to fall into their embraces and sleep for an eternity.

"I—" He couldn't finish. But if she stayed here, he might say something he shouldn't. "I'll be fine. You should go. It's late."

"But—" Her voice sounded so small, so unstable in that moment. And he recognized the tone like it was his own voice speaking. The familiarity of it hit him like a fist to the face. If Xion had asked to leave him while he was in this state, well, he'd probably overdose on purpose.

"Okay," he agreed finally, the word hardly a breath. "You can come with me. Make sure I . . . stay with it."

"Where are we going?" she asked, her eyes like concerned seas, deep and roiling and bottomless. Oh, God, was this what it was like? Was this the last stage of the withdrawal? Would he lose consciousness, and fall into a different abyss than the one he'd dreamed of? Or were there more stages? Oh, God, he needed his next dose, even more than he needed her.

Axel fell to his knees, and Xion held onto him, trying to prevent his inevitable collapse. "Axel, please, stay with me."

He'd thought he would remain conscious, but those words sucked out the last bits of his strength, wrapping around him like thousands of ropes, tugging him to the ground. He held onto them and they choked him. They were his saving grace and they were his noose.

He lost consciousness thinking of Xion's words, of falling into an endless ocean with no air to breathe.

Stay with me.