Roxas didn't know how lucky he was that Vanitas initially intended to give him the silent treatment this morning.
Axel's barely taken three steps out of Hot Topic before Vanitas starts in on Roxas again. Dude saunters up to him, swiping his tongue across the back of his hand and then cringing. Vanitas leans an arm against the checkout counter and tilts his head to squint up at the ceiling.
"I think there is actual vomit in my mouth right now."
Talking with Axel's left Roxas slightly fuzzy-headed, with a smile that's starting to hurt his jaw. Roxas runs fingers through his hair and strains to mirror Vanitas' scowl. "Shut up."
Vanitas' smooth, throaty voice lifts into a falsetto to mimic Roxas' earlier words, "'You want to pierce my what?'"
The falsetto drops off as Roxas grips the edge of the counter, tan knuckles whitening, and not just because he does not sound like that.
"Cringe." Vanitas shifts to better visually appreciate Roxas' growing discomfort. "I know grandmothers with better game than you."
How had he and Axel not realized sooner Vanitas was listening in?
"Friends." Roxas pushes back from the counter with both hands. "We're friends."
Vanitas' smile stretches wider. "You were getting friendly alright."
He has unexpectedly perfect teeth and that's somehow unnerving.
"Chin up, though, Fight Club." Vanitas pats the counter in lieu of trying to touch Roxas again. "I think your crush found it all endearing and shit."
Crush, Roxas considers. Because when someone else finds out about it, that's the feeling that you get in your chest.
Vanitas prattles on, unaware that Roxas' lungs have collapsed and he ought to be calling a paramedic.
"He was laying it on pretty thick. I don't think a piercing's the only thing that slut wants to give you for free." Vanitas winks, like Axel had when he'd extended the offer, and Roxas feels like he's been snapped in the face with a rubber band. "Be careful though. You're a tiny thing, wouldn't want him to break you."
And then Vanitas starts to fucking turn to walk away. And Roxas absolutely can't have that.
"What's your problem with me?" Roxas blurts before his common sense can grab him by the shoulders and restrain. "Do you want me to deck you again or what?"
The words don't feel natural. He isn't one for threats or unprompted violence, but he's starting to wonder if that's the only dialect of 'stop talking' Vanitas understands.
The guy's smile drops straight off and he lifts both hands. Unfortunately, his mouth is still running, "No, no, no, hey, I get it now, sensitive topic: you and your new—ahem—close personal friend." Vanitas' dark brows bounce, and Roxas dated Seifer long enough to know when he was intentionally being baited.
Roxas places his hands back on the checkout counter and leans forward like he might vault himself over it. His next words edge through gritted teeth. "Drop it, man."
"Hey," Vanitas steps back, looking genuinely alarmed for half a second, apparently just now remembering that time when Roxas knocked him to the floor like a deflated punching bag. "I'm going to, because you didn't rat me out earlier, and that was surprisingly not shitty of you."
Vanitas nods like he's about to go his own way.
"Not that it particularly helped," he mumbles to himself, and then pauses, glances back over his shoulder with narrowed eyes. "Why didn't you rat me out, by the way? You had plenty of chances to tell you-know-who what I said about him."
Roxas scoffs. It's like this Vanitas kid physically can't not mock him. "Because I hit you? Because I can't afford to lose this job?"
Vanitas' pockets his hands and leans back, considering this new information with a wince.
Roxas stares Vanitas down. "And because you told me we were good. Are we good?"
"Of course, Roxas." Vanitas makes no attempt to sound convincing.
"You're not going to say this shit to anyone who will listen?" Roxas prompts, and he's starting to sound a touch pleading, "Because Axel has a boyfriend."
Vanitas smirks. "No shit."
"And if he thinks I'm into him he might decide he doesn't want me around." The admission hurts worse than Vanitas' mocking, burning at the edges of his tongue like something hot.
Vanitas rolls his eyes, voice smooth as ever, "You need to relax, Roxas. I'm not going to say anything to anyone, and I've got the bruised ribs to remind me."
Roxas stares at Vanitas, trying to make himself sound like some kind of victim, as if Roxas wasn't there.
"Actually," Vanitas continues, drumming fingertips against the counter, his matte white polished nails not as chipped as his own. "I meant to be nicer earlier, it's just, never in a million years did I think Axel'd actually be into a cute, insignificant, little nothing like you. But he must be, right? Because otherwise—and I'm still trying to process this part—he would have torn your throat out for talking shit about his boyfriend. Talk about ballsy, Roxie."
"What?" Each word out of Vanitas' mouth sounds more and more absurd. "I didn't…"
Vanitas' hand goes flat against the counter and he leans in like a poker player upping the ante. "Didn't you?"
"You're trying to say that Axel and Saïx are… actually together." Roxas' brows furrow. "Axel and Saïx."
"Our type A, emotionally void, drill sergeant boss? That's his man." Vanitas shakes his head wistfully. "No wonder his thoughts are straying…"
As awful as this description sounds, it reminds Roxas of what he had said to Axel. About his... boyfriend? But Axel is nothing like that. And Axel had been so nice afterwards. And Vanitas is such a dick there's no telling…
"Ah-ha." Vanitas giggles and it's terrifying. "You seriously didn't know. Well, there goes half my respect for you. But hey, consider my honesty your payback for not ratting me out. Axel and Saïx? They've been together since the dawn of time, dumbass. It's why Axel's always here."
Roxas shakes his head. It doesn't add up.
"Quit messing with me."
"Wish I was," Vanitas picks up a round, pokéball shaped chapstick from one of the counter display bins and rolls it between his fingers. "Most days I feel like a ping pong ball being smacked between the two of 'em. They don't want to let me get away with shit, but they don't want to fire me, free me."
Vanitas clenches the chapstick in his hand and seems to realize he's gotten off topic.
"They live together," he elaborates, gesturing with his open hand like a reluctant orchestra conductor. "They've got like a dog, a flower garden, throw cushions, plans to honeymoon in Italy." He stops, nose wrinkling. "I could keep going, but I'd vomit, and you'd be cleaning it up for making me explain this."
Roxas tries to picture it—it just seems so unlikely. Axel's so easygoing, Saïx, so uptight. They're like hot and cold, an oven and a freezer.
"They'd strangle each other in five minutes," Roxas objects.
"Had a lot of time to make it work. Grew up together. Childhood sweethearts," Vanitas draws a mocking smile, shoulder bouncing again in a nonchalant challenge. "Ask anybody."
Roxas' arms cross, and it feels childish but necessary. "I will."
"And when they confirm, you and I'll be even." Vanitas tosses the chapstick up, catches it. "How about that?"
"If they confirm."
"When." Vanitas gives Roxas another triumphant stare that makes his stomach feel like he's chugged a large, freezing milkshake. "Now," he jerks a thumb to the backroom where piles of boxes still await them, "let's get back to work."
Roxas snorts, taken aback. "Did you just say 'work'?"
Roxas hasn't forgotten that Vanitas' definition of 'working' earlier had been standing around while he and Aqua lugged boxes.
"Yeah, yeah," Vanitas rolls his eyes, "gonna pull my weight and shit. Getting fired's off the agenda for a while." His annoyance darkens to a glare. "Don't make me say it twice."
"Fine." Roxas shrugs and moves to head out from behind the register to join him. Whatever Aqua'd said to the guy must have been pretty damn inspiring. "But you need to start minding your own fucking business."
"There, there, Fight Club." Vanitas pats his shoulder and slides between Roxas and the rounder of hair dyes, toward the back, wearing a smile that makes Roxas twitch. "Your dirty little secret's safe with me."
Axel's always thought that if he and Larxene had friendship necklaces they would say something passive aggressive like "Best Bitches" or "You Suck Slightly Less Than Other People." And the way Axel sees it, we all need that friend who tells it to us straight. It just so happens that, in Axel's case, all of his friends tell it to him straight: Saïx, Demyx, Xigbar...
But Larxene is next level.
There had been a break in the Claire's crowds, and Axel and Larxene were back in the staff lounge again, him disinfecting his piercing equipment at the tiny sink by the mini fridge, her, a few steps away, clearing out a cubby for their new coworker.
Axel had told Larxene everything. He usually does. And when he doesn't, she gives him hell until he wises up and fesses up.
Which is fine. He trusts her. She doesn't spread his shit around like she might somebody else's, and her unwanted advice is surprisingly solid, as far as unwanted advice goes.
When Axel stops talking for a minute, she clings to the sides of the stacks of cubbies like she's fighting to hold herself up. "You are such an idiot I physically cannot stand it."
Maybe not that straight.
"I'm sure Demyx will stop them from doing anything too crazy," he insists.
Axel is not sure of this at all, but he's not desperate enough to bug Luxord to come in when he no longer owes Axel a favor. That's how you end up owing Luxord a favor. And that's how you end up mostly naked flipping burgers on a yacht for some bachelorette, while your buddy hosts casino night below deck.
Or so he's heard.
"I'm not talking about Demyx. Although," Larxene chews on the thought, "you're probably wrong about that too."
"So, give me some advice then." If she has any ideas on placating Saïx or getting Vanitas' toes on the line, he's all ears.
"Hm," she pretends to consider. "Um, fire Roxas and Vanitas like you should have done in the first place?"
"Useful advice."
"Alright. Stop tormenting the new kid, so you can get your skinny ass to work on time."
Axel suspects she's just upset that they got lectured by Marluxia. Axel usually doesn't drag her down with him. Then again, she usually isn't the one who broke the rules.
"I was going to leave on time, Larx, but you didn't see him." Axel musses his hair. "I couldn't just go."
He can still picture Roxas, slumped over a box of earrings, back in zombie mode. "He gets this sad, vacant expression like he's been through some shit…" He shakes his head, feeling something tiny in his chest compress. "And between Vanitas, Lex, and Saïx, he kind of has. I had to try to cheer him up, y'know, make him feel welcome." He stares at the ceiling for a second, voice quiet and wry, "Can't count on anyone else to do it."
"Right," she sasses, pausing in her work to turn on him, hand on popped hip, "and how d'you think that went?"
"Hm? Think I overdid it." He grins—he can't not grin. "He got a little…flustered." His equipment jabs at his hand and he glances down to refocus, lip still quirked up. "Was fucking adorable, though."
"You're an asshole."
Well, it's not Thursday if she doesn't tell me that at least three times.
She slaps her hand against the white wood of the cubbies. "New advice: Stop talking to the new kid altogether."
"It's called being friendly," Axel counters, slowly. "You could try it some time."
She jeers, her green eyes fixing on him as he rubs his equipment down with a soft rag soaked in an alcohol solution. "Your definition of cheering someone up is flirting with them."
He wants to deny it completely, but she's not exactly the first to tell him so.
Liquid trickles down his arm, and he uses the rag to clear it up, slow circles, considering the words he traded with Roxas. "Maybe, a little," Axel concedes with a small smile. "He didn't seem to mind."
Larxene dumps an armful of somebody's shit in the pink-pearl-hued trash bin Xigbar donated to them on Demyx's behalf. Papers, deodorant, candy wrappers, and a handful of the origami stars Naminé made fall in. Axel hopes they're not his.
"Did you touch him?"
He doesn't glance up. "Probably."
"Axel."
Their eyes meet. "Only a couple times."
"So, yes. Did you tell him he was pretty?"
He returns his attention to the sink. "I—not exactly."
"So, yes."
"No. Larxene…" Cleaning fluid splashes the wall as Axel jerks the bottle too hard. "It's fine."
"You don't know what it was like for Roxas," she accuses, sneering, brushing off her hands above the bin and stepping closer. "What if he didn't like it?"
"He liked it." Axel rolls his eyes. "Trust me."
"Then what if you gave him the wrong idea?"
Axel shakes his head, vaguely miffed, one palm bouncing up, "That I want to spend time with him?"
"You know I'm all for playing the field, but you're dating Saïx," she annunciates in that shrill way she has.
"Which means I can't just 'spend time with' somebody? You're starting to sound like fucking Xigbar," he teases, not as gently as he means to, but still, with a smile.
Larxene winces at this particularly low blow. She and Xigbar are too alike to get along at all—unapologetically stubborn, willful, profane.
"It's not like that." His towel is dripping cleaner and he twists it. "Roxas knows I'm seeing somebody."
"Saïx is not just somebody, Axel. He's Roxas' boss. And boy doesn't like to share his toys."
He rings his towel harder, Saïx's bracelet sliding down his wrist. "I know."
He thinks of Marluxia. Just because Saïx hadn't fired Vexen for hitting on a tipsy, flirty Axel like everyone seems to think he did, doesn't mean he wouldn't have gladly done so.
She glares at Axel haughtily as she pitches a final paper star into the trash, like she's not yet convinced.
Axel sighs in concession. "Okay, okay, okay, like I said, I overdid it," his head tilts, smile tight, "but it worked, alright? Roxas was happy. I made him happy." He stops smiling. His green eyes can pierce souls too. "I'm not gonna apologize for that."
"You wanted my advice." She grabs a Sharpie from the cup on the desk beside the cubbies and points it toward Axel, capped marker jabbing the air emphatically, like a throwing knife. "When this blows up in your face, I'm going to be the one with the margarita and the big fucking sign saying 'I told you so.'"
He wonders if she might be right. Again, he thinks about the weeks of silence that greeted him when he got Vexen sacked. He doesn't want that, not from Roxas. Or worse, he doesn't want Saïx turning on Roxas if he thinks they're spending too much time together.
He's got to get in front of all this. Spin the narrative in his favor. Get Saïx on board with his new buddy. Get Roxas out of his slump. "It might help if Roxas believed me when I told him the truth."
"Well, you and Saïx ain't exactly a matching set."
"How long did it take you to figure out?" Axel asks without looking at her, although his equipment hasn't needed its past three rub downs. She doesn't answer and he glances up. "That Saïx and I are together, I mean."
The Sharpie she's taken to the new employee label halts mid letter. It takes her a long moment to answer.
"I'd been at Hot Topic for maybe a day or two. Saïx was in the middle of teaching me some register bullshit and you walked in. He froze up for a second. That was strange by itself, he's usually so put together and customer friendly. He barely looked up, said, 'Be with you in a minute.'
"But you completely ignored that, walked right up behind the counter and put these nice aviators with the tags still on 'em on his forehead while he was talking. He shut up again and you said, 'Beach later?' And I just stood there waiting for him to chew you out, like, who the fuck did you think you were to talk to Saïx like that? But he cracked and gave you this gag-worthy, million-dollar smile. Thumbed the sunglasses and said, 'Yes, alright.' And you said 'Alright' and smiled like you got away with something, and then you left. He was in a fucking sunshiny mood for the rest of the day."
It all sounds vaguely familiar. They were Saïx's favorite sunglasses for months until Xigbar took them surfing and a wave swallowed them away. Still.
"Not exactly the height of romance," Axel mumbles, a brow rising, but he's smiling again, something softer.
"It didn't have to be. I could just tell, the way you two, I don't know, respond to each other. So, if you insist on babysitting the new brat instead of canning him, might wanna come clean before he figures it out himself. I don't need anyone else fawning all over you, and it sounds like his week's been shitty enough as it is."
Roxas. Fawning. Christ. If anyone's fawning, it's me.
She doesn't get it.
I just want to pick up the melancholy little thing and put him on a tall shelf. Maybe a tower.
Someplace high up where nothing bad can touch him. Someplace that'll make him smile.
Someplace close to the clouds with a salt breeze and a sunset, ocean view.
"Alright," Axel hears himself say, "I'll set him straight later."
Finished clearing out the cubby and penning the label, Larxene turns to him, pale, thin, blonde brows arching. "Later?"
"I'm supposed to meet up with the cuddly-looking little badass after my shift."
Her brows furrow. "Axel."
This conversation is starting to exhaust him. Axel wraps up his tools in a dry cloth and glowers. "I'm allowed to have attractive friends, you know. Saïx's therapist said it was okay."
Words catch in her throat. Overhead the speakers go silent between songs. He feels like he's swallowed something with sharp edges.
A new song starts, something upbeat, more One Direction, and the moment passes.
"Yeah, yeah." Her eyes roll and her elbow jabs his bicep. "Just keep your hands to yourself."
He manages a smirk. "No promises."
Larxene smacks his arm, and he raises both hands in self-defense, toning down his grin.
"Alright, alright. I'll try."
He holds the door for her and they file out of the staff lounge.
"But he's just so fucking cute."
"There you two are." Marly is already approaching with light, quick steps, arms raised as if he intends to drag them out forcibly if necessary. "Come on to the front for a minute, there's someone I'd like you to meet."