A/N: Just want to take a moment to thank everyone who favorites, watches, and reviews. Stay rad.

chapter four;
blueberry pancakes

When I opened my eyes, nothing felt right. I shot up, blinked away the rheum and scraped crust from the corners of my eyes, and the light emitted from the window above the bed cast a somber glow into the unfamiliar room. It couldn't have later than 4a.m. but I was awake, too awake, and I was hyperaware of my surroundings; from the tea-rose colored walls and the wooden armoire, to the dust motes and the dull lavender smell of the bed sheets. At first, I was confused as to where I was, because I certainly wasn't on a lumpy futon in a room that smelled like dirty laundry and asocial tendencies. But then I remembered I was in a spare bedroom of the house that, about twenty-four hours before, I had broken into.

When we got to the house after a very uncomfortable car ride from the police station where I had declared my affiliation to their beloved matron, there was a collective inexorable "picking up the pieces" mentality. No one really said anything, we just entered the house to survey the damage, and I couldn't help but to cringe at the severity of our rampage. Baskets, drawers, and chairs overturned. Polyester stuffing and down covering the floor like snow. Trinkets and valuables missing. A battered flat screen TV. And that's not even assessing the emotional damage, the violation and betrayal, feeling like your own home isn't safe anymore. And here I was to bear witness. Was this my punishment? Crippling guilt?

I immediately started trying to clean up the mess before they could fully process it.

As I cleaned the living room, they paced throughout the rest of the house verbally cataloguing what was missing. They were stoic, yelling out things like, "my Xbox", "my leather coat", "my grandmother's sapphire ring". At one point, Roxas came bounding down the stairs in hysterics. "My laptop," he said, "My laptop is gone and my paper for school was on it and it was due today! Our insurance policy isn't going to prevent me from flunking lit class!"

"I'm sure your teacher will give you an extension given the circumstances," his father soothed, but it wasn't enough to tame the fire. Roxas stomped over to me as I was sweeping up pillow stuffing and shoved me harder than I'd like to admit. "This is all your fault! Go ruin someone else's life!" He shouted, before stomping over to Anastasia, who gave him a hug, whispered something in his ear, and dismissed him from clean up duty. I felt a pang of jealousy, because even though she fessed up to me being her kid, I was still, and would probably always be, an outsider. It was a reminder that I wasn't in prison because of her guilt, not because she cared about me.

"Axel," she called out to me, her tone casual, like she wasn't addressing her long-lost son. She was in the kitchen, scrawling inventory on a legal pad.

"Yes, ma'am," I replied with an indiscreet bite.

"You look exhausted. Want me to show you to the room you'll be staying in?"

I rubbed my eyes, it had been well over a day since I last slept and I was in desperate need for a shower. Exasperated, I asked, "Why are you doing this?"

And she pursed her lips and looked out the window over the sink, the window we used to break in. "I told you, I was wrong. I can't imagine the pain I put you through, and I want to make up for it. This was a decision I made after you left yesterday, before the burglary. You're my son, Axel. I'm responsible for you."

I scoffed. "I'm twenty-five. I don't need someone to be responsible for me anymore. I'm a grown-ass man."

"You're free to leave. I'll give you cab money, and you can go back to your apartment and get arrested when you don't show up to community service. Or, you can stay here, free of charge, and let me help you. Let us help you."

She turned and looked me in the eyes, like she somehow knew her eyes were my weakness. My mother was tall, falling only four or five inches below my 6'3", and she was thin, like me, but softer, with rounded hips and laugh lines. It was weird, because she was my mother, and it's a fact that's hard to hide with genes like these.

"What happened to complicating things?" I asked, mocking her tone from yesterday when she had used those words on me. "Aren't you worried about what your husband and stepson think about this? Because you were very worried not too long ago. Not to mention the added insult of breaking and entering."

"Look, I'm sorry for what I said, Axel. And I understand you being upset with me. But it's never too late to start over. We will all adjust to this. I promise." She put her left hand on mine, her diamond wedding ring glistening in the sunlight filtering in from the window. "Come, I'll show you to your room."

I didn't say anything, just followed at her heels, bypassing her husband who was reorganizing what remained of their fine china, stopping only to cast a reassuring smile in her direction. My heart throbbed at the small intimate gesture and I wondered if my father ever smiled at her like that.

We passed through the living room, past my dry-erase marker graffiti on the wall that no one had yet acknowledged, and made our way up the stairs. There was a trail of school photos of Roxas and the little redheaded girl lining the stairway, starting from the drool-stained overalls of pre-kindergarten, all the way to the dress shirts and low-cut blouses of high school. I couldn't discern Roxas's age because he appeared to stop aging after the awkward faux-hawke preteen years, but counting the portraits like rings on a tree stump put him at around seventeen or eighteen, and the little girl's photos stopped at what looked to be fourteen or fifteen, so she wasn't so little anymore.

"That's Kairi," Anastasia told me, and I noticed I had stopped ascending so I could examine the pictures. "She's your half-sister. She's at school, much to her chagrin, and she'll be home later. I'm sure she's dying to meet you."

A sister. I had a sister. An actual biological sister. For some reason, that made me really happy.

The second floor was a daunting hallway with too many doors. I was led to a room on the end, which I was thankful for, and it was just a spare bedroom adorned with pinks and whites and beiges. I didn't know Anastasia very well, but the room felt very her, and I imagined her picking out the wall color and the drapes and the lace pillowcases with only self-reflection in mind. Maybe her husband didn't want a frilly bedroom, so they agreed she could have this one spare room to reign over with her ultra-feminine touch. It was a total mom-room.

"It's a little pink," she said, as if reading my mind. "I hope you don't mind."

And I did mind, but I also didn't. I ended up falling asleep before noon and sleeping up until I jolted awake in the wee hours of the following morning.

After reestablishing where I was, I rolled out of bed and all the bones in my body creaked with agony. My hair was matted with sweat and melted pomade. I turned on a light and explored the room a bit, finding it had a decent sized walk-in closet that was filled with legal documents and vacuum-sealed winter coats. Through another mystery door, I heard angels singing when it turned out to be an on suite bathroom, complete with a shower and embroidered towels. I was about to dive right it when I remembered I didn't have any clean clothes to change into.

In a fit of desperation, I began to rifle through the drawers of the armoire, finding only old photographs and more documents. Then I thought about wearing nothing but a mink coat from the closet, but I figured that would be in poor taste. With a sigh of defeat, I resigned to the fact I'd have to wait to shower, and I decided to go get a drink of water and maybe find some food because no one thought to feed me in my stay so far.

As I made my way down the hallway, I noticed one of the doors was cracked and a light was on. I figured whoever was awake could get me some clean clothes, so without thinking too hard about it I stuck my head in, only to see the back of Roxas's head as he slumped over a desk in the opposite end of the room. I was about to loudly ask him what he was doing up at this hour and where I could find some clothes, but I noticed his too-rhythmic breathing and concluded he was fast asleep. With a strange curiosity, I tip-toed in, taking in the décor of his room. It was too clean for a teenaged boy, no cum-socks or junk food wrappers. His light blue walls were empty, his bed was made. It didn't look too different from my room, minus the pink and frills. It was impersonal, and that's when I concluded Roxas must've been a robot.

I walked over to the desk. Aside from his face, his desk was covered in open text books, novels, pens, a few sheets of paper, and a mug of unfinished coffee. Peering over him, I realized he must've been trying to rewrite the paper that was on the laptop Xigbar stole. He didn't get past his opening paragraph.

I had to call Xigbar and see about undoing some of the damage before everything had been sold off. I wondered if the Henley's were old school enough to have a landline.

My train of thought was lost when I heard groaning. In a zombie-like trance, Roxas raised his head up and looked at me, not yet awake enough to make sense of the situation. We held each other's gaze in a weird stand-off for at least a minute, until Roxas grumbled, "Go away, jerk." So I backed up out the door and closed it, mumbling, "Fuck you, blondie" under my breath while thinking how nice it must be to live in a world where all you have to worry about is an English paper.

Anastasia was an early-riser. I tried to remember if she'd always been like that, but little kids have a poor sense of time.

She knocked on the door of my new bedroom, reminding me that I had to start my community service today. At my request, she brought me clothes, a Frankenstein conglomeration of things from both Roxas and his dad with the promise we could go get my stuff from Ansem's place later. I took the best shower of my life, and then I tried not to think who the too-big boxer shorts I was lent belonged to.

Once I was no longer grimey, I made my way downstairs, following the scent of food emanating from the kitchen. The scene was so sickeningly story-book; Mr. Henley at the stove, Anastasia pouring glasses of orange juice, and two beautiful blue-eyed children at the breakfast table eating chocolate chip pancakes in their button-downs and ironed blazers. Of course they went to private school.

Kairi made eye-contact with me first. "Whoa," she said, dropping her fork onto her plate, "Sweet tattoos!" She smiled brightly, exposing her braces with purple rubber-bands. Roxas rolled his eyes.

"Thanks," I said, "I grew them myself." My horrible attempt at humor had the girl in stitches and already I liked her much better than her grumpy brother. I reached my hand out to her. "I'm Axel."

"Kairi," she said, unable to keep a straight face. She looked more like her father than Anastasia, with her soft features and oceanic eyes. She tucked a piece of her shoulder length red hair behind her ear.

"Good morning, Axel," Mr. Henley greeted, and it was the first time he ever spoke directly to me. "What do you like in your pancakes?"

"Uh…" I hesitated. No one had ever asked me that. The concept of putting different things in pancakes was foreign to me.

"Let me guess," he narrowed his eyes at me, making a low 'hmmm' sound, before concluding "You're a blueberry man."

"Sure," I said, taking a seat at the breakfast table next to Kairi who was still ogling the exposed ink on my neck and forearms.

"This is so cool," Kairi exclaimed, "I can't believe I have an older brother!" Roxas cleared his throat, shooting her a harsh look. "Another older brother," she corrected herself for his ego's sake. "So, Axel, tell me about this tattoo." She pointed to a generic pin-up girl that spanned my inner-arm.

"That was me being a horny teenager while trying to appear artsy and cool," I admitted without hesitation. She giggled.

"How about this one?" This time she pointed to the cardinal on the side of my neck.

"I dunno, I thought cardinals were really cool at the time?"

"They're just fat little red birds," Roxas grumbled. "What a stupid tattoo."

Mr. Henley set a plate of pancakes in front of me and I nodded him a thanks before digging in. They probably didn't realize it, but this was the first family breakfast that I had ever been a part of, and thus would never forget for as long as I lived. And weirdly, for the first time ever, I felt like I belonged somewhere.

It was short lived, though. Because when Anastasia announced it was time for me to go serve my community service, it brought back the very real reality; that I was just some punk that could never mesh with their white picket fence and family breakfast existence. Something hung in the air, a series of unspoken accusations, and I was still very mad that I got cheated out of a decent childhood, but these people weren't bad people. Not Mr. Henley, the understanding husband, not Kairi, the innocent bright-eyed little sister, not even Roxas, the grumpy hero. They didn't deserve to suffer for Anastasia's misgivings.

She drove me to the park, trying to be cordial and act like everything was normal, but I could see right through it. She had to resent me just as much as I resented her. Her words and topics of discussion were careful and calculated, she asked me about the present and future, but never the past. I wonder what she saw when she looked at me. Was I a son, or a rehabilitation project? Her book boasted on about her desire to help those in need so that when they were weeping with joy over overcoming the odds they will dedicate their success to the woman who nursed their broken wings through print. It wasn't about helping for the good of the world, it was about the eagerness to feel better about herself and her mistakes. It was about guilt.

Guilt. That small word that hung between us since that day at the bookstore. Why is it such a motivator?

"Are you my mom or my sponsor?" I found myself asking her as she rolled to a stop in the parking lot.

She blinked a few times and looked at me, cocking her head to the side. "What do you mean, Axel?"

"Well, you didn't want to be my mom for twenty years, yet here you are acting like everything's kosher. Do you see me as a son? Or am I just some troubled being that you want to patch up so that you can sleep better at night?"

"You're my son, Axel," she sighed, exasperated. Her calm resolve shattered. "Do you know how I knew where you lived? I hired a private investigator to follow you around months ago, after years of looking you up on the internet every night before bed. Why? Because I wanted to know you were okay. I wasn't a good mom, I know that, but don't for a second think I never cared."

"So why now? Why not a year ago? Two years ago? Five? Ten? Why do I get a mom now?" My voice was rising to the point of borderline yelling.

"I guess it took meeting you in person to make me realize."

"Realize what?" I demanded.

"That I love you," she murmured, in the most sincere voice that I'd ever heard. But her implication wounded me, and I got out of the car and slammed the door, welcoming the thought of labor in the hot sun to dry the tears welling in my stupid fucking eyes.

Community service was community service. Been there, done that. I picked up garbage and scrubbed away Sharpie drawings of dicks in the bathroom stalls while a park manager in cargo shorts stood over me to make sure I wasn't goofing off. Nearing the end of allocated service hours, I sweet talked the manager into lending me a couple quarters for the pay phone. I told him I needed to call my ride, when I was actually punching in those ten digits that got me into this mess in the first place. Xigbar picked up on the third ring, and upon realizing it was me burst into a fit of raucous laughter.

"Oh god, Axel!" More laughter. "Please don't tell me your calling from prison! That would just be too much for my old man heart to handle!"

"Hahaha, fuck you too, Xigbar. I'm actually not in prison. I need a favor though. A big one."

He coughed a few times, clearing his throat to signify he was all business now. "Lay it on me, kid. Though I should remind you that you already owe me for that flawless heist we pulled the other night."

"Yeah… About that…"

"Hey, you can't blame me for getting caught. We tried to tell you a car pulled up in the driveway but you were too busy doing your own thing."

"Wait, you mean someone came home?"

"You said three people lived there. There was a woman, a man, and a little girl all accounted for. We weren't expecting a fourth."

I groaned. "I said family of at least four."

"Anyway," he aggressively interjected. "Enough about that shit show, what d'ya need?"

"Would it maybe be possible if, like, I could have some of the stuff we stole from the house back? Please?"

There was silence, and then there was a dial tone

I was tempted to ask for more quarters so I could call again, but I figured it'd be a lost cause either way. So I slammed the phone onto the receiver, kicked a small rock, and sat on a park bench waiting for my mother to pull up in her gaudy overpriced car so we can make each other feel awkward on the long drive to Ansem's apartment. But instead of the red BMW, a black Bentley pulled up and impatiently honked. I looked around to see if they were waiting for someone else, but at noon on a Tuesday, the park was pretty dead. They honked again, their hand lingering on the horn so that it was drawn out for a few extra seconds.

I shuffled over to the car, hoping it wasn't some drug dealer or gang banger I had pissed off in the past. But when the driver's side window rolled down and a disgruntled blond head poked out, I knew that wasn't the case.

"Come on, get in," he said, looking disgusted that my impure existence had to taint his presence.

"You're not who I was expecting," I challenged, cocking my hip to the side.

"Yeah, well I wasn't expecting having to have to play chauffeur to a criminal."

That shut me up. I got in, trying not to have an orgasm over how beautiful the car was. I don't consider myself a car guy, but I couldn't deny that the cream colored leather interior and touch-screen console interface didn't get my horses running. The only thing that killed my automobile boner was the fact that Roxas was the owner. I looked over at him but he kept his face forward. "Please don't tell me that you're driving me all the way to Cesterfield. I'd honestly rather walk."

"Believe me, I'd let you do that in a heartbeat if I wasn't doing my mother and father a favor."

I quirked my brow at him, not that he could see, and said, "Aren't you supposed to be in school or something?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but I get out at noon. I have more credits than I need and there's no reason to fill three hours with pointless electives. I use the extra time to study, participate in extracurricular activities, do volunteer work, anything that looks good on transcripts and college applications." He glanced at me. "If my vocabulary is too advanced for you, just let me know and I'll dumb it down."

"You're like a fuckin' robot. And no, your," air quotes, "Vocabulary," end air quotes, "Is not too advanced for me, you pretentious sack of potatoes."

"I didn't mean to offend," he said in a tone that made it clear that being offensive was exactly his intention. "I just figured you didn't have any formal schooling. Your name-calling exemplifies my point."

"Sorry I didn't grow up with a silver spoon up my ass."

"Apology accepted, Axel."

I bit down on my inner cheek to stop myself from screaming. "What is your problem? Didn't your stepmom teach you to be good to those less fortunate than you and to love thy neighbor and all that other shit?"

"First of all, she's not 'my stepmom', she's my mom. I get that she gave birth to you and not me, but don't think for a second you or Kairi have more of a claim over her than I do. Secondly, I am good to those who deserve it. You burgled and desecrated our home, and everyone wants to pretend like it's okay because, 'oh, boo-hoo, Axel is a victim of the system'. Everyone's a victim—"

"Oh yeah?" I interjected, "What're you a victim of, princess?"

"A victim of having my life torn apart and my mom's good nature being taken advantage of."

I let out a dry laugh. "Are you serious? You think I wanted this?"

"You should've just left her alone."

I didn't know what to say to that, because for a moment, I agreed. I should've just left her alone, left her home and her family alone. I should've been just waking up in my futon in Ansem's apartment after a night of drinking and smoking enough pot to keep me mellow into next week. I should've been hanging out with Riku and Naminé while pretending I wasn't a third wheel. In fact, I should've been working at the deli despite hating it, and I shouldn't have violated my probation to go to Marion. I shouldn't have hit Riku that night at the club. I shouldn't have dropped out of high school after turning eighteen. I should've sucked up my pity and lived a decent life, instead of pissing away everything and blaming it on everyone else.

No, I thought to myself, I'm owed something.

"How would you feel if your birth mother left you high and dry and two decades later you find out she has a new family that you weren't good enough to be a part of?"

"I would feel like she probably had a very good reason for doing so."

"Then tell me, Roxas, what was your mom's good reason for leaving me behind? I mean, I didn't even make it into her book, which is a fucking memoir of her life. She erased me. I read that thing cover to cover, she had no problem talking about her flagrant drug use and all the guys she banged, but she couldn't mention the fucking kid that was in the middle of it all."

"Calm down," he said, which only got me more riled up.

"Easy for you to say! Your real mom died and you still grew up with a maternal figure!"

"Don't you dare talk about that," he hissed.

"What? That you have a dead mom? Sorry, kiddo. Your mom's dead, and no matter how much you tell yourself that Anastasia's your mom, she isn't." Words were flowing out of my mouth like venom and I couldn't stop them. "That's what this is about isn't it? You don't like me because you hate the fact that she's really my mom."

We were on the highway at this point, and Roxas immediately pulled into shoulder lane and slammed on the brakes. "Look here, Axel," he said, turning to grip the collar the t-shirt I was wearing that probably belonged to him. "You don't know me or my family. That's right, my family. I don't like you, but my mom wants you around and because I'm a good son, I'll go along with it. But if you ever bring up that presumptuous garbage again, I will not hesitate to do everything in my power to get rid of you, do you understand?"

"Don't fuckin' threaten me, blondie. I have a foot on you."

He sneered. "Dare I remind you of the other night when I had you pinned with ease? Face it, you're all bark and no bite. I'm not afraid of you."

"But I'm a criminal, remember?"

"Yeah, a dumb one who got caught." He let me go and leaned back in his seat, rubbing his temples like this was all giving him a headache. With a heavy sigh, he put the car back into gear, straightened his tie, and merged back on to the highway. "I said I'd get you to your apartment. So that's what I'm going to do."

"Why you and not her?"

"She thought it'd be a good idea for us to get to know each other."

"Look how well that's turning out."

When I walked through the door of the apartment, Ansem looked like he was seeing a ghost. He charged over from the living room and looked me up and down, inspecting me for any sign of paranormal activity. "The audacity," he moaned theatrically after concluding I was real.

"Ansem, I wasn't expecting you to be home. I figured you'd be at work."

He let out an audible 'pah' and flicked his hand at me. "I took a few vacation days when you didn't return with my car, since I didn't know if I'd see it, or you, ever again."

"I'm super sorry," I tried, but he shook his head.

"I got a knock on the door yesterday morning from some greasy mechanic saying that he was dropping my car off to me. I said to him 'where's Axel?' and he proceeded to engage me in a discussion about Guns N' Roses for twenty minutes until I finally managed to get rid of him. So then I go to check on my baby, and she's completely out of gas. So I had to walk a mile in this sweltering heat to the gas station with a gas can just so I could get her going. I had no explanation for why it was being returned to me without you, no phone call, nothing. Your friends showed up last night since they hadn't heard from you either and I told them they ought to start planning a memorial service because either you were out there dead or you were going to be when you showed back up here."

"Ansem," I said seriously, my hands on his shoulders.

"What?"

"I fucked up, I'm sorry. Really sorry. But I'm moving out like right now and you'll never have to deal with my shenanigans again, just please don't kill me."

"You're… You're leaving me?" His face fell. "Let me guess, you've been off with some girl, huh? Is she downstairs? She's probably bad news—"

"There's no girl," I started to say, but he was out the front door and darting down the corridor stairs before I could utter the first world. Ansem was a drama queen, you just had to let him run his course. I rolled my eyes and followed after him.

He deduced my ride was the black Bentley since it was idling in a no-parking zone in front of the building and marched up to it. Roxas rolled down the window with an irritated look on his face and said, "I know, no parking. I'm just waiting for someone."

"Ansem, that's Roxas. Roxas, Ansem," I said between winded breaths. I never did like living on the fifth floor.

All Ansem could say was, "Oh." And I knew that he assumed that Roxas was my star-crossed lover that I was eloping with, and I didn't feel like correcting him.

Roxas furrowed his brows. "Axel, did you get your stuff? I have things to do today that don't involve you."

"Wow," Ansem crooned, "He's adorable!"

"Isn't he?" I said in the most condescending way possible.

"W-what?" Roxas's face flushed. "Ugh, don't ogle me like I'm a small dog. Go get your stuff."

"C'mon Ansem, help me get my shit to the car before he blows a gasket. And on our way up, I'll tell you the real story."

It was a tearful farewell, but Ansem understood. I promised him I'd keep in touch and thanked him for his hospitality and apologized once again for stealing his car, which Roxas's baby blues had made him forget about. I threw my small batch of belongings into a garbage bag with room to spare. Roxas crinkled his nose at my choice of item transportation, because people like him probably used satin garment boxes and Louis Vuitton luggage, and insisted I hold onto it instead of put it in the backseat where it ran the risk of transmitting diseases to his heated leather seats. But when I got in, I threw it back before he could stop me. We pulled out and Ansem waved from the balcony until we were out of sight.

"Look Roxas, I know we got off to a bad start, but do you think we can make one more stop before we head back?"

"That depends, will it be a quick stop and is it of utmost importance?"

"Yes to both, Captain Cranky." He narrowed his eyes at me, like he is so prone to do, and I threw my head back and groaned. "Sorry! That was the last of the name-calling, scout's honor!"

"Fine," he groaned. "Where are we going?"