A/N: I rarely plan ahead when I write, which is a horrible habit. I always just kind of let the story write itself until it hits a wall. But, I will say, I now know how this story will end, and I estimate it's got maybe two or three chapters left. After all these years, there's a light at the end of the tunnel.

chapter fifteen;
trouble in paradise

My second grade teacher was a nice lady with big hair. Like, huge hair. Almost comical. Her hair looked like the result of her sticking a fork in an electrical socket and then immediately hopping into the bath with a plugged-in toaster. She was otherwise small, mostly dwarfed by her hair and clunky costume jewelry. She had a gold crown on one of her molars and when she spoke, I would fixate on it. Miss Jones had a lot of patience, which I suppose you had to have if you were teaching a class full of special needs kids, but I like to think she and I had a unique relationship and that I was her favorite.

"What are you drawing, Axel?"

Special needs classes seemed more like containment than anything. My class of fifteen all had different impairments and issues and needs but we were all stuffed into the same room because the public school system put us all under the same 'retard' umbrella. There was no individualized lesson plan or anything and we followed basically a preschool level regime despite us being between seven to nine years old: sing songs, free play, draw and color, lunch, story time, nap, more songs, etc. That morning, after a complicated session of trying to get the whole class to sing the ABCs together, we were meant to be drawing pictures of our families. Already having been passed through several families and homes, I took some liberties with the prompt.

"Me," I told her.

"What is this blue thing next to you?"

"My shark brother."

"You have a shark brother?" She asked, playing along. That day she had dangly turquoise jewelry weighing down her earlobes and if the earrings were any heavier they would undoubtedly tear through. "Does he live in your bathtub?"

"No, he's a magic shark."

"Okay, and who's this supposed to be?" She pointed to the top left corner of my paper where I had drawn something in orange and scribbled it out with black. The evidence of the force I used was the black crayon on my desk that had its point completely flattened down.

I didn't answer.

Miss Jones knew I was a child of the system, that I was essentially family-less, so she didn't pry. "It's a very nice picture," she finally said with a smile and I saw a flash of gold. "I like how you drew yourself today. You're happy in this drawing."

"That's cuz today is corndog day."

"Wow, Axel, did you read the lunch menu all by yourself?" It wouldn't be an impressive feat for an average eight year old, but for me, it was a great accomplishment, and Miss Jones knew it.

I nodded my head and plucked another crayon from the box and went back to my masterpiece.

"I suppose that is a good reason to smile." She watched as I drew a misshapen circle between me and my shark brother. "Who are you drawing now?"

"You."

She placed her hand on my shoulder, a subtle loving gesture, before moving on to the kid next to me who put his own spin on the assignment by sticking crayons up his nose.

"Cannonball!"

Splash.

I was sitting on the edge of the pool in my new swim trunks and a pair of nice luxury brand aviators that Roxas lent me, my pale ass legs dangling in the lukewarm water. I looked down at them and wiggled my toes which were painted to match my hair thanks to a certain little sister. Kairi resurfaced from the deep-end with a big dramatic breath. "How was that one?" She asked as she pushed her wet bangs from in front of her eyes.

"The same as the other five," Roxas said blandly.

I nudged him with my shoulder. We were sitting side-by-side, enjoying the warmth and sun, while Kairi swam and jumped and did flips and handstands and tried to impress us. "Your form is questionable," I put my nose up and spoke in a poor excuse for a British accent, "Not spherical enough. More like a cannon-blob."

She playfully splashed at me, wetting Roxas in the process and he huffed.

"Stop being so grumpy," I said to him as Kairi climbed out the pool to prepare for another jump. I pushed my glasses up into my hair since the lenses were now covered in water droplets.

"I do not like birthdays," he grumbled, "I do not like parties."

"You only turn eighteen once," I reminded him. "Don't be such a wet blanket."

Roxas's birthday was in a week, and as the day drew nearer, Roxas got grumpier. Anastasia and Mr. Henley were throwing him a party in a fancy banquet hall in Marion, and despite Roxas insisting he didn't have enough friends to warrant such a big venue, the guest list was apparently sizable, as it included Henley family members I've never heard of or met—cousins and such—as well as friends and colleagues of theirs. They even let me invite Riku and Naminé. I invited Ansem too, but he declined, saying it'd be weird to be an old guy at an eighteen year olds birthday bash.

"Mom and dad know I don't like making a big deal about my birthday and yet, every year they torture me. I hate balloons, I hate cake, I hate streamers, I hate candles, I hate presents, I hate the inevitability of growing old."

"You honestly sound like such an ungrateful baby right now," I admitted. "Aw man, your parents love you and want to celebrate your birth, boohoo."

He narrowed his eyes at me before letting out a sigh and leaning into me in defeat. "I'm sorry; I'm just really not looking forward to being the center of attention for an entire night." Hearing Roxas apologize so willingly was jarring, but he had been making an effort lately to be less of a shithead.

"I'll stay close and help fend off the ravenous fan girls."

"The only ravenous fan girl is my nana, my dad's mom. She does this thing where she licks her hand and tries to flatten my hair with it."

"If she comes too close, I'll suplex her."

Roxas cracked a small smile and laced his fingers through mine. He didn't mind showing me small gestures of affection around Kairi anymore. But when we heard the sliding glass door opening, he pulled his hand back into lap. Ivana came out carrying a bowl of freshly cut watermelon that we'd seen her working on in the kitchen as we passed by to get to the backyard. She set it on the glass patio table and took a seat in the shade under the large parasol.

"Ah, weather is so good!" She exclaimed. "Ms. Kairi, you going to do a big jump?"

Kairi was positioned a few feet from the edge of the pool like she was going to take a running start. "Yeah, Axel is grading my cannonballs."

She looked at me and Roxas sitting together with a big grin, her eyes bunching up at the corners. She had since expressed to me her joy that he and I were getting along so well, since she was concerned Roxas didn't have enough friends. "And Mr. Roxas is helping, yes?"

"Of course," I answered on his behalf.

"Mr. Roxas, come eat watermelon. I know it is your favorite."

Roxas removed his legs from the water and stood up to make his way over to her and the ornate bowl of pink chunks. I tried really hard not to stare at his ass in the tight fabric that stuck to him like cling wrap and opted to finish watching Kairi's jump before standing and following him to the table. Kairi came back up and swam to the shallow-end steps to get out and join us. We all plucked up a piece of watermelon and ate it, reveling in the near-orgasmic sensation of eating sweet fresh fruit on a hot summer day.

"Tank chu, Iwana," Kairi said after she stuck another piece in her mouth before she even swallowed the first. Roxas and I followed up her thanks with our own.

"You are all very welcome." She got up and wiped her sticky hand on the front of her khakis. "I am going to start preparing dinner. We have company tonight, kids, do not forget."

I noisily swallowed and turned to direct my question at Roxas. "We do?" He never mentioned guests and he usually forewarned me a day or so ahead of time so I'd have time to mentally prepare and make myself not look like such a clown. Our last dinner guests were people from a publishing company and that was the dullest meal of my life and I was still recovering.

Roxas stopped chewing and made a face like he just smelled something awful.

"Hey, your face is gonna get stuck like that," I warned him.

"Mr. Roxas's relatives are coming for dinner. They will not be attending the party next weekend so we are having small celebration with them tonight," Ivana explained when he wouldn't. "You like lamb, Mr. Axel?"

"Never had."

"Once you get over the fact you're eating baby sheep, it's pretty good," Kairi said with a shrug, completely unbothered by the prospect of our guests unlike her brother. "Ivana, are you making your mint jelly to go with it?"

"Yes, would you like to help me?"

"Of course!"

Kairi hastily toweled herself off and the two disappeared back into the house, leaving me with the grouchy birthday boy and the bowl of melon. The melon was way more pleasurable to be around than Roxas at that moment. His soured mood seemed like it increased tenfold and I popped another piece of fruit in my mouth because eating relieved tension.

Roxas had his arms folded tightly over his chest as he stared off into space. I figured I'd let his pouting run its course, but when he didn't falter, I put my hands on his shoulders to shake him out of his reverie. He blinked a few times and looked up at me with exasperation. "You okay?" I asked, genuinely concerned for his mental state. "Who are these relatives that are giving you such distress? Another spit granny?"

"Celine's family," he mumbled.

I knew he meant his biological mom—his dead mom—and it was weird hearing him to refer to her by first name. The pieces all fell into place in my mind. Roxas hated birthdays because his mom died on his birthday.

He elaborated, "I see them every few years; my grandmother, grandfather, and uncle. They live up in Quebec and make a trip over here. It's always so awkward because they come to the house and get to see my father with a new wife and the daughter they had together, and they get to see me: the reason their beloved daughter and sister is dead, and it's like the only reason they come is because they expect me to be Celine reincarnated but I'm not. I'm not like her at all. I barely even look like her." He let out a dejected sigh. "I feel like such a disappointment to them," he admitted, his voice low.

I pulled him into me, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and resting my chin on top of his head. "I doubt they're disappointed in you, Roxas. What is there to be disappointed about? You graduated top of your class, got accepted into a prestigious university, and you have a really cool and sexy boyfriend."

His icy disposition thawed a little and I felt him drop his arms to his sides. "I do?" He spoke into my chest.

"Well, no, but you got me. And I'm really nice."

"You are such a dork," he told me, and it made me laugh that both the Henley kids were picking up on my vernacular. I pulled away from him so I could angle his chin up and plant a soft kiss on his lips. I knew it was risky because Ivana was in the kitchen and we were right in front of the window over the sink, the window I broke into once upon a time ago, but I didn't care enough.

When we detached, he kept his eyes on me, and I held his intense gaze. He seemed deep in thought and it got my mind running, too.

If people were seasons, I decided Roxas would be summer. Roxas was a day by the water, he was sunlight and warmth, nostalgia and fresh cut watermelon, a vacation to never forget. I never liked summer. I always preferred dark, damp, cold and dreary. I was never one for sun, and yet, there I was, wanting nothing more than to soak in all of Roxas's rays.

"What are you thinking about?" I finally asked him.

"I'm thinking about what you said."

"I say a lot of shit constantly, you're gonna have to be more specific."

"You implied you're my boyfriend."

"I mean, I basically am. We sleep together, shower together, spend basically all day together. We kiss and cuddle and hold hands. It's not Facebook official or anything, but I think what we have constitutes as something a little more than just friends or stepbrothers or whatever, don't you think?"

"What about if I leave next month?" He asked and my shoulders involuntarily slumped. He was still on the fence about college but I constantly insisted he go, even if the thought of him leaving left me feeling hollow inside.

"I dunno," I admitted.

Actual relationships were still a foreign concept to me; I was always just a casual hookups kinda guy. All I knew was that I liked Roxas and wanted to be with Roxas, and that I could most likely handle whatever that entailed-mood swings and all-as long as he was by my side. But could I handle if he was a state away? If we barely ever talked or saw each other? And in a college environment, he would undoubtedly meet other guys. Smart, good-looking, successful UPenn guys. Did I even stand a chance?

"Roxas, do you even want to be in a relationship? Or are you just testing the waters of your newfound gayness? Am I an ugly practice-girl?"

"Do we really have to do this today?" He spat like my entire existence was an inconvenience to him right then. "I have enough going on as is, Axel. Not everything is about you."

I pressed my lips into a hard line. My stomach ached and my chest hurt, but the rejection I was feeling manifested itself as anger. "You brought it up, I was just making a joke before to lighten your nonstop pissy fucking mood."

"I'm going to go shower," he said. And the way he said it let me know he meant he was going to go shower in his room, alone, and I was not invited.

"Whatever," I bit back.

Roxas was summer. A bad thunderstorm, a peeling sunburn, mosquito bites, pit stains, and a misshapen shoulder mole that was never there before.

For months, I had been teetering on a precipice between loving and hating Roxas, but my foot was starting to slip as I wondered why I'd been wasting my time on someone who not only lacked the capacity to truly love, but also lacked the capacity to be loved back.

Especially when, at my core, I was the same way.

I was sitting on a stool at the kitchen island counter with Kairi, wasting time with idle chit-chat about the latest celebrity gossip, when Mr. Henley came home. Upon hearing the front door, Kairi lept off her seat to greet him. Ivana, hands busy rubbing the raw lamb meat with a concoction of spices, smiled and commented, "My boys stop being excited to see me when they became teenagers. I'm happy Ms. Kairi is still a very excited girl."

"Hi, dad!" I heard her exclaim from the foyer.

"Hello, Kairi!" He matched her enthusiasm.

The two entered the kitchen and Mr. Henley greeted Ivana and me, setting his briefcase on the breakfast table so he could get a bottle of water from the refrigerator. I was used to the sitcom cliché of dads coming home from work stressed out and settling in front of the boobtube with a can of shit beer until dinner was ready, but Mr. Henley always came home in a good mood and was always more than happy to entertain Kairi's exuberance and my volley of obnoxious questions related to his field. I suppose he had nothing to be unhappy about-he had a nice house, wealth, a lucrative career, and a nuclear family. The only thing missing was a purebred golden retriever or something, but Roxas was allergic to animal dander.

"Pool day today, huh? Axel, did you use sunscreen?" He asked, narrowing his eyes at my reddening skin. Doctors will be doctors, regardless of field. He had already lectured me on my smoking habit and lack of regular exercise.

"I did, actually." It was only at Kairi's insistence that I bothered, but even SPF 50 didn't stop my shoulders, nose, and the back of my neck from burning. "Being a vampire sucks."

"We should have some aloe vera gel, it will help." He took a sip of water and leaned against the island. Kairi resumed her spot next to me and pressed a fingertip into my upper arm to gauge how badly I was burnt, but I couldn't even feel it. "I'm assuming you know about our company tonight?" He asked me.

"I let him know," Ivana piped up. She had finished massaging herbs into the lamb and had moved on to peeling potatoes. "Mr. Roxas went up into his room a while ago and hasn't come back down."

Mr. Henley undoubtedly knew why Roxas was upset. But I wanted to know how he felt about everything, about hosting his former in-laws alongside his second wife. Did Roxas's birthday bring up any emotions in him, too?

"I'll go talk to him," he said simply. He set the water bottle down and loosened his tie before heading back into the foyer.

The questions in my head nagged at me so I got off the stool and followed, ignoring Kairi's inquiry about where I was going. I met Mr. Henley at the foot of the stairs and he quirked an eyebrow at me. "Roxas is being weird about seeing his mom's family," I blurted with the intentions of opening up the topic for discussion. "He thinks they hate him or something."

"He always gets upset before they come," Mr. Henley said simply before continuing up the stairs.

"And he hates his birthday because his mom is dead," I continued when my first attempt didn't seem to work.

He stopped and turned back towards me. "He told you this?"

Mission accomplished. I strode up to meet him on the landing.

"Basically," I said. I almost felt bad for airing out Roxas's dirty laundry to his psychiatrist father, but I was pissed off, and this gave me the same kind of satisfaction as tattling on some grade school bully. Except I was always the bully so this was a new kind of satisfaction. Untreaded waters.

"I see."

"You didn't know?"

"Roxas doesn't talk to me about his—about her," he said, and his choice and quick amendment of words left me feeling like maybe Mr. Henley didn't talk to anyone about his late wife, either. "But it makes sense. He has a lot of guilt. I never thought of it, honestly. Roxas has never been one for celebrations in general."

Feeling ballsy, I asked him, "Do you get sad about it, too?"

I half-expected something heartfelt and tearful, but instead he tilted his head back and let out a deep laugh. "Are you trying to psychoanalyze me, Axel?"

"A little bit," I admitted.

"I loved, and still love, her very much," he said, no sense of shame in his voice. "But, as you would probably put it, shit happens. I can't live my life dwelling on what-ifs or self-pity. It's not what I want and it's not what she would've wanted. I didn't expect to find love so soon after she died, but I did, and between your mother and Roxas, I was able to make peace with my circumstances and move forward. Life is all about moving forward, Axel. It's not always easy, but it has to be done. To answer your question, I don't get sad, per se. What I feel is hard to describe or explain, but it's not sadness."

Standing with Mr. Henley as he casually spilled his guts about his dead wife was not how I envisioned this day to go when I woke up that morning with Roxas curled up against me. "How come you don't talk to Roxas about all this?" I asked.

"I've tried in the past, but I'm sure you've gathered by now that he isn't exactly an open book. He shuts down whenever the topic comes up. I'm surprised you know as much as you do, honestly. But I shouldn't be, considering how fond he is of you."

The implication made me nearly shit out an organ. "W-what?" I sputtered.

"You give Roxas a new perspective, which I think he needed. I tried not to shelter my children, but it's unavoidable sometimes. The two of them have only known this lifestyle. I think that's why both Roxas and Kairi took to you as much as they did; you're something entirely different than what they're used to."

I exhaled in relief; of course he didn't know.

What he said was similar to what Sora had told me in the cabin, and maybe all of this just boiled down to novelty. I thought back to all the times I had struggled to come up with a plausible reason as to why Roxas, a wealthy, conventionally-attractive overachiever, would like someone like me, but it all made sense now. I was exciting and new, someone so unlike everyone else in his small bubble. He didn't like me; he liked the idea of me. It was a form of rebellion, going against the status quo.

"What's with the face?" Mr. Henley asked. I was a bit downtrodden and my expression gave it away. I was coming to terms with everything. I realized Roxas had a novelty that I enjoyed, too. But novelty is fleeting and it was only a matter of time before it wore off and we were both left to confront the fact that we both didn't actually like each other. Thinking back to our spat by the pool, maybe it was already happening.

"Life is fuckin' weird," I concluded, slumping against the banister. "Thanks for letting me be nosy, Doc."

"They're very nice, Axel," Mr. Henley added helpfully, referring to his late-wife's family, the original reason why I pursued this conversation. "They don't hold any resentment. They're just happy to see Roxas."

"What did Celine look like?" I found myself asking before I could stop myself. Mr. Henley seemed a bit taken aback that I knew her name, but he recovered quickly. "Roxas mentioned he doesn't look like her, so I was curious," I elaborated.

He smiled a wistful smile, like he was remembering her in her entirety, and I wondered if I'd ever feel that way about someone. If and/or when I did, I hoped they wouldn't just up and die like she did.

"Honestly," he said, "I have a type. She was a redhead, too. Roxas takes after me, but he has a lot of her features. He hasn't seen her photos since he was a little kid. We have a photo album in my office but he won't go near it. You're welcome to pry. It's on the bookshelf by the door. It's mostly photos of Roxas when he was young, but there's a few of Celine in there. I'm going to go talk to him now and hopefully get him to come downstairs. See you in a bit, Ax." He left me on the landing and continued up the stairs. He disappeared down the hall towards Roxas's bedroom and I heard his loud dad-like knocks before I retreated back down into the foyer.

Through the archway, I could see Kairi and Ivana still in the kitchen, this time Kairi was next to her at the counter and I could hear Ivana's accent as she guided her through something. It seemed weird to me that Kairi was getting this kind of maternal bonding through a housekeeper and not her own mother, but at least she was getting it from somewhere. Anastasia hadn't been home all day and I wasn't sure where she went and I didn't care enough to ask.

The two didn't notice as I passed by to get to the living room, and I slipped into the innocuous closed door that held Mr. Henley's home office. I clicked on the light and started scanning along the rows of books on the shelf, mostly psychology mumbo jumbo, until there was a row that was different from the rest. This row held thick books with blank spines and I realized they were all photo albums. I pulled one at random down from the shelf and saw the front was labeled 'Wedding' in curly silver script. When I opened it, I was greeted with a large photo of a young healthy-looking Anastasia in a modest white dress next to a dapper Mr. Henley in a tuxedo. Doing quick math in my head, I knew this was about sixteen years ago, and I tried to remember where I was at around that time. I turned the page and saw toddler Roxas in a tiny suit with his bug eyes and wispy blonde cowlick. On the same page, there was a photo of the three of them together, Roxas in Anastasia's arms, and they were all smiling except for him whose red-ringed eyes and pink cheeks showed evidence of the fit he had probably thrown just before the photo was taken.

I closed the photo album and stuck it back on the shelf and slid out another one. This one had photos of various family vacations. Hawaii, France, Spain, Disney World. I felt a pang of jealousy and quickly closed it, going back to the photo album roulette.

The third one I pulled down was white like the wedding one, but unmarked aside from the ornate design around the cover. I opened it up and was about to immediately close it when I saw another photo of Anastasia, but I quickly realized it wasn't Anastasia that I was looking at. This woman had a rounder face and pouty lips, and her large blue eyes were haunting because these were the exact same eyes I looked into regularly. Even her smile—her dimples and the way her lips curled up more on the left side than the right—was eerily familiar. She was freckled and small, but her midsection was swollen like she was smuggling a beach ball under her sundress. She was very pretty, even in her late-pregnancy. And at this far long, she had to know she was dying, and yet, she didn't show it.

Roxas looked a lot like his mom. More so than I thought. He shared his father's complexion and blond hair, and facial features like his nose and jawline, but the things I found most beautiful about Roxas were things he inherited from the other side.

I turned the page, scanning through more photos of her. In all of them, she smiled the same warm, illuminating smile. Except for the last. The last photo of her was in a hospital, and she was hooked up to all sorts of machines. She was propped upright in the bed and in her arms was a tiny swaddled bundle which she was peering at with the saddest look of longing I've ever seen on a person. Her skin was waxy and pallid, her eyes were sunken in, her lips nearly blue, and I recognized this must've been one of her final moments on this earth.

She was actively dying because of him, and yet, she cradled her son close.

I was so fixated on the image that I didn't notice someone come in behind me.

"I knew you wouldn't be able to resist," Mr. Henley teased, amusement evident in his voice, but when he caught on to my expression, he knew exactly what picture I was looking at. "Ah, you're looking at the picture from the hospital."

"Fuck," was all I could say, barely above a whisper.

"She wanted me to take that picture. She wanted to make sure there was at least one picture of her and Roxas together. Roxas hasn't even seen that one, actually. I figured he was too young back then and, like I said, he won't come near the photos now." He closed the gap between us and took the album from my hands and closed it. "Dinner is in about an hour, you should shower and get dressed," he said.

I nodded dumbly, my hands unmoving like I was still holding the photo album. Mr. Henley put it back on the shelf and the sound of it hitting the back panel of wood as it was pushed into place snapped me back to reality. Without another word to Mr. Henley, I left the office, coming face-to-face with Roxas who looked like he was about to head in.

He was freshly showered and dressed in a nice navy blue sweater with the collar of his white oxford peeking out of the neckline.

"What were you doing in dad's office?" He asked suspiciously.

I had no reason to lie, so I told him, "Snooping through photo albums. Don't worry, your dad gave me permission."

He narrowed his eyes at me. "Why?"

"I don't have to answer to you," I bit, continuing past him.

His original intentions with his dad discarded, he followed behind me, trying to keep up with my pace. "Don't be like that, Axel." He let out a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry, okay?"

"Your canned apologies don't mean anything. I know you're new to apologizing, but sorry isn't a magic word that fixes everything. You're supposed to know what you're sorry for and actually mean it."

"I figured you of all people would be a bit more understanding, but you're so shamelessly self-involved that it's unreal. Right now you're throwing a fit because I want time to think about my feelings and today is not the day for it."

I whipped back around to face him, ready to snap. But when I looked him in the eyes, I could only see his mom. My anger waned. His mom was, in fact, dead. And he was right, I was being incredibly selfish.

"Roxas, let's just drop the whole thing," I told him, feeling mentally worn out by everything and ultimately disenchanted by the prospect of any sort of relationship with him.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. Let's forget about it and just go back to how it was before. You know, playing video games together occasionally and picking on each other in passing. No more of this bullshit. No more of the drama."

Roxas's brows knitted together. "Why are you doing this? You know how I feel, Axel. I shouldn't have to say it. I shouldn't have to label it. We both know—"

"You don't actually like me."

"What?"

I opened my mouth to explain my earlier realization about the novelty of each other but realized I didn't know how to explain it out loud. My thoughts were always more eloquent than what came out when I spoke, and the words I wanted to say were getting lost in the trip from brain to vocal cords. So instead I just said, "I thought I liked you but I don't."

I watched in real time as Roxas's cheeks flushed pink and then red. I couldn't discern if it was anger or embarrassment or frustration or all of the above, until he snapped, "Shut up, Axel! Shut up!"

His yelling drew the attention of the household and I could feel eyes on our impending scene as everyone came over to make sure Roxas wasn't beaten into a pulp again. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Mr. Henley making his way to us to break up a fight if he had to.

"Rox—" I tried, my voice calm.

"No! Shut the fuck up, Axel! You're not doing this to me! After everything, you are not doing this!"

Mr. Henley put his hand on Roxas's shoulder and he aggressively shrugged him off.

"Roxas, come," he said, his voice stern and authoritative. "Let's talk in my office."

"I don't want to talk! What's the point of talking? Talking isn't going to make my mom not dead! Talking isn't going to make the chemical imbalance in my brain go away! Talking isn't going to make me straight! Talking isn't going to make Axel stop being a selfish jerk!"

His words hung in the air. Proceeding it was silence aside from his heavier-than-normal breathing.

"No one wants you to be straight, Roxas," Mr. Henley said once it was clear that his manic outburst was over and done with. "No one is trying to make you any different than what you are. I'm trying to help, Axel is trying to help. Keeping everything bottled up is making it worse. I thought we agreed we'd talk about it."

"I don't want to talk," he repeated, this time in a defeated whisper.

Anastasia had impeccable timing because it was at that second that she entered through the front door, right into the scene. She immediately sensed the tension and didn't even close the door behind her, just paused in the threshold, house keys in hand. "Everything okay?" She asked no one in particular.

Kairi, who had been silently standing audience in the kitchen archway, told her, "Roxas is upset."

"I'm not upset," he argued. "I don't care anymore."

And with that he retreated back upstairs.

We all stood around awkwardly, looking at the steps he just petulantly stomped up.

"It's that time of year," Anastasia said with a sigh, as if it explained and excused everything. I had no doubt that tantrums like this were an annual occurrence. "Let's get ready for dinner."

After a hot shower and donning one of my nicer outfits, I stood in front of the floor-length mirror by my closet. Over the past few months, I had built up my wardrobe substantially and if it weren't for my hair and tattoos, I could almost fit in with upper-class suburbia. I never cared much for fashion or brands, but I couldn't deny how good it made me feel to get dressed up sometimes.

I grabbed my phone off the dresser and took a picture of my reflection before sending it to Riku and Naminé with the caption, 'You can almost see the outline of my dick in these pants'. After it finished sending, my phone almost immediately buzzed with Riku's response.

sorry m8, can't zoom in that far

I let out a snort and wedged the device into the back pocket of my tight chinos. I played with my hair a little bit, trying to make it do something better than be porcupine ass adjacent, but gave up after a few minutes with a huff. There was brief consideration of just taking the clippers to it, but skinhead cancer patient didn't seem like a good look, either. The only time I had a buzz cut was when I got lice when I was six. Since it grew back out, I'd always kept it long; only allowing it to be trimmed until a hairdresser gave me a tragic bowl cut the week before my first day of middle school. That marked the end of hairdressers and barbers, and since then I've cut my own hair. No one knew how I liked my layers better than me, after all.

My hair was especially vibrant, its brilliance rivaling a freshly painted fire hydrant. I had done a dye touch-up a few days beforehand. Roxas sat on the toilet lid and watched me as I did it, and it was another one of our nice intimate moments together. It wasn't a huge deal, but dying my hair kind of felt like a personal ritual, and I let Roxas be a part of it.

Roxas.

I looked at my door and audibly sighed. I didn't expect much to come of it, but I left my room and went across the hall and knocked.

"It's me," I called out.

To my surprise, I heard his feet padding across the carpet and the lock clicked. The footsteps retreated. He didn't tell me to fuck off or anything so I turned the handle and let myself in, closing the door back behind me. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, watching me expectantly.

"Are you okay?"

"What do you care?" He spat, his words bleeding into each other. His lack of eloquence and flushed cheeks let me know that he had been drinking, and my suspicions were affirmed by the glass bottle sticking halfway out from under his bed.

"Rox, you gotta stop this drinking thing," I said softly, slowly walking over to him as if any sudden movements would make him bolt. "I'm starting to suspect you have a real problem."

Since the night after his graduation, there had been a few other instances of his drinking habit, and I usually just humored him and kept an eye on him until he fell asleep. After all, I spent many years underage drinking myself, but I did it for fun while he did it to cope. I sat next to him.

"Vodka makes problems go away," he slurred, refusing to make eye contact and instead opting to look straight ahead.

"It absolutely does not. Your family is going to be here any minute and you're clearly drunk."

"Not my family."

"Look, I know it's a shitty situation to be in, but they don't mean any harm. Don't be upset with them."

"Quit talking to dad so much. You're starting to sound like him," he grumbled.

I reached over and gripped Roxas's chin between my thumb and forefinger, turning his head to make him look me in the eyes. "Get your shit together," I said sternly, "Enough is enough."

He wrapped his hand around my wrist and tried feebly to get me to let go but I didn't relent.

"I think the issue is that everyone pussy-foots around you and pities you, and because of it you pity yourself. Life sucks and isn't fair sometimes, I know. Shit happens. But you can't spend the rest of your life acting like a fucking baby. You gotta get up off the ground, dust yourself off, and get on with it. I'm sorry your mom died, Roxas. I'm sorry you've spent your whole life hating yourself for it and feeling like you had to make up for it by being perfect. You've been doing better but lately you've completely regressed, and I know this is a hard time for you, but Jesus Christ, Roxas, grow some fucking balls. This shit isn't fair to your dad, to Anastasia, to Kairi, to me, to your mom, or most importantly, to yourself. I'm not saying you're not allowed to be upset, I'm saying there shouldn't be a damn cataclysm every time you get into your feelings. I'm not exactly a beacon of healthy coping mechanisms, but despite abandonment, being the result of sexual assault, and growing up not knowing what genuine love and care felt like, I turned out pretty fucking okay. And you will, too."

"Axel... you're hurting me," he finally squeaked out, and I realized I had been using more force than I meant to. I let go of him and his hands instinctively flew up to rub where I had pressed my fingers into him.

"Sorry."

"You broke up with me," he said. "I don't have to listen to you."

I raised my eyebrows. "You can't break up with someone you're not in a relationship with."

"You're stupid."

"I know you are but what am I?"

"And you call me a baby?"

"Roxas, it's for the best. For both of us."

As soon as the words left my mouth, Roxas wrapped his arms around me and buried his face in the crook of my neck. "Don't leave me, please," he begged, his voice wavering. "I'm good enough, I promise. I'll be better."

"I'm not leaving you. I live across the hall." I peeled him off me and saw the tears welling in his eyes. "Hey..."

He sniffled, and we both heard the faint ringing of the doorbell downstairs.

"Shit," I said. I stood and grabbed Roxas by the arm and hoisted him up, pulling him along with me towards his bathroom. I let go of him and he slumped down to the floor. "Alright, Roxas, time to sober up."

I slipped his sweater off of him and tossed it out onto his bedroom floor before fumbling with the small buttons on his shirt. He wasn't any help and stayed mostly motionless as I wrestled it off of him.

"You're not gonna like this," I warned. I turned on the sink and held my cupped hands beneath. Once I had an adequate amount of cold water in my palms, I turned and crouched down to be at eye level before splashing his face with it.

"Ah! What the hell!" He shook his head and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands. I got another handful and hit him again before he could recover from the shock of the first one. "S-stop!"

"Open your eyes," I commanded. He looked up at me with his puffy eyelids. "Dry off, brush your teeth, and get your clothes back on. Then come downstairs and be on your best behavior. I'll make you a coffee and leave it in the kitchen and you're going to suck that shit down in one gulp. Got it?"

He nodded dumbly.

"Good." I bent down and kissed his wet forehead. "Now get up, dork."

Celine's parents were old and wrinkly, but not decrepit; probably somewhere in their mid to late-60s. Her brother was apparently a younger brother, and looked to be in his 30s. The only person who shared her red hair was her mother, but hers had faded to a soft copper. Hair color aside, there was a strong family resemblance, and her brother looked a lot like her, and therefore Roxas, except with dark hair and stubble. Their accent was unmistakably French-Canadian, and, true to Mr. Henley's word, they were very nice.

When I came downstairs, they were sitting in the living room with Mr. Henley, Anastasia, and Kairi, and I introduced myself and told them Roxas would be right down as soon as he got his cowlick under control. They politely laughed and continued their small talk about the drive and the weather and poutine or whatever the fuck Canadians talk about. I excused myself to the kitchen where Ivana was scrambling to get the presentation just right on the lamb roast.

"Smells delicious," I told her in passing as I grabbed a mug from the cabinet and loaded a pod into the Keurig machine.

"Coffee this late?"

"It's for Roxas," I told her. "Caffeine is good for the soul."

"Can't argue," she laughed. "Is Mr. Roxas doing better?"

"He'll be fine."

On cue, he shuffled into the kitchen, eyes still red-rimmed. His clothing looked discombobulated so while his coffee was pouring I went over and adjusted his collar and straightened out his sweater. While I was at it, I tousled his hair where the water had flattened it.

Ivana smiled at the gesture.

When I was done, I pointed to the mug now filled with hot coffee and he went and got it, taking a seat at the breakfast table and peering into the black liquid like it held the meaning of life. "No sugar?" He asked.

"No, just drink."

"I just brushed my teeth," he said. "And it's still really hot."

"Blow on it. C'mon, Roxas. I'm sure they heard you come down the stairs. Drink your coffee and go say hi. They drove from another fucking country to visit you."

He brought the mug up to his lips and started blowing the steam away. After a few puffs, he sipped and recoiled with a grimace. "I don't like black coffee."

"Roxas, I will come over there and pour it down your throat myself if you're going to be difficult. This is your fault, you know."

I don't know if she actually needed assistance or if she was afraid my threat was true, but Ivana asked me if I'd help her bring things to the dining room and I obliged, grabbing the nearest casserole dish and shooting Roxas a look like 'you better fucking drink it' before taking it into the other room. After a few trips, the table was set. Roxas had finished half of his coffee, and I figured he was perked up enough to give the illusion of sobriety.

I grabbed him by the hand and led him to the living room.

His family smiled at him and cooed about how big he's gotten, but I knew Roxas probably hadn't grown an inch since he was Kairi's age. His grandmother got up and gathered him into a one-sided hug, and it was halfway through that I realized his hand was still in mine but he had no intentions of letting me go so I was left awkwardly standing at his side during the reunion.

When his grandmother detached from him, his grandfather and uncle congratulated him on his graduation and acceptance into university.

They asked him benign questions about how he's been and whatnot, which he answered politely and coherently. During the exchange, I tried to subtlety pull my hand away but his grip only tightened and I wanted to ask him what kind of shit he was trying to pull because everyone undoubtedly noticed, but I couldn't. I was only relinquished when Ivana came in and announced dinner was ready. He went and sat at the head of the dining table and motioned for me to sit next to him but instead I grumpily went and sat by Kairi on the other side.

Dinner went smoothly. The lamb and mint jelly was okay, but not my thing. Overly processed junk food was more my speed. The conversation was lighthearted and casual and Roxas was keeping up just fine, but a little too apathetic. I sort of regretted not sitting next to him because if I was, I could've kicked his shin so that he'd show a little emotion. After dinner, I helped Ivana clear everything off the table while the others kept up their conversation. Mr. Henley and Roxas's grandpa were talking about politics while the women were talking about movies. Roxas and his uncle were talking about school. In the kitchen, Ivana let out a yawn.

"Long day!" She exclaimed. "I think that went good."

I was scraping plates off into the trash and nodded in agreement.

"Good job getting Mr. Roxas to calm down. I have to remember coffee trick next time."

"For sure," I played along.

"When you are done with that, can you bring cake to the table? It's in the fridge."

"I didn't even know you made a cake."

"Ms. Kairi and I made something real quick. She said we needed cake," she laughed. "I think it is more for her than Mr. Roxas, don't tell."

"Your secret is safe with me." I finished loading the dishwasher with the plates I cleaned off and went over to the fridge. "Oh wow, this looks incredible."

When people say they made something real quick, you don't expect it to rival the quality of something you'd see on the cooking channel. The cake was two-tiered and smoothly frosted and decorated with a carefully piped design. I carefully lifted the glass platter it was on and carried it into the dining room, placing it in front of Roxas. Kairi looked excited and I knew she couldn't wait to tell everyone she helped make it.

"Cake?" He asked.

Anastasia got up from the table. "I think we have candles somewhere, let me look."

"It's okay, mom," he said, but she was already up and out the room. His family didn't even flinch at him addressing Anastasia as 'mom' and I wondered how he ever thought there were any ill feelings from them. I supposed it was entirely fabricated in his mind due to his misplaced guilt.

When Anastasia returned with some multicolored birthday candles, she stuck a few in the center of the cake. "We don't have eighteen of them, so you get six and we pretend each candle is worth three."

"Please don't sing," Roxas whined. "Head hurts."

But we sang anyway while he sunk low in his chair with pink cheeks. When the song concluded, he still blew out his candles, because when you're sung "Happy Birthday", you lose all autonomy and are under a spell that dictates you must blow.

"Make a wish, Roxas," his grandmother said.

He opened his mouth like he was going to say something snarky, but I interjected with, "Don't tell us or it won't come true."

After cake and some more chit-chat, Roxas's family said their goodbyes. They hugged everyone, including me, and I didn't know if it was a Canadian thing or if they were just an affectionate family. Once they were out the door and in their modest minivan, I concluded that today's drama was over absolutely nothing, because they were the most pleasant people I'd ever met. I looked over at Roxas who looked emotionally worn, and I had the urge to push him down the basement stairs and lock him in there for a few days to atone for his sins. But instead I decided I just wanted to go to sleep. I bid everyone goodnight and went up to my room, ignoring the fact I was being followed. I had the intentions of just shutting the door in his face, but Roxas grabbed the sleeve of my shirt before I could turn the doorknob.

"Wait," he said. "Thanks for your help."

Without even looking at him, I deadpanned, "Yeah, no problem."

"Drinking makes me feel better. Makes me less anxious."

"I know how drugs and alcohol work, Roxas." When he didn't say anything else, I snatched my arm from him and opened my door. He tried to follow me in but I stopped him with a hand to his chest. "No," I said firmly.

"Axel, I realized something," he tried. "Please listen."

I already knew his scheme. I knew what three words he was going to say. But I wasn't going to let myself fall victim to his manipulation. With a rough shove, I pushed him back out into the hallway so I could shut my bedroom door and lock it. He tried to turn the handle with no avail.

"Axel, please," he begged, sounding more pitiful than I've ever heard him sound before, "Open the door."

"Go away, Roxas," I called back out to him, maintaining my aloofness.

There was silence as he tried to come up with a new tactic. I knew he was still outside my door. I started to get undressed, hoping he'd just give up and go to his own room so I could get some sleep. Dealing with this family sure did leave me exhausted on a regular basis.

After a couple minutes, he spoke again. "If you don't let me in, I'm going to go downstairs and tell them everything."

I paused in the middle of taking my shirt off. Letting it fall back into place, I walked to the door. "Oh yeah?" I challenged. "You'd be ratting yourself out. Have fun."

"I'm a confused, emotionally-distressed seventeen year old boy," he mockingly replied. "You're an adult. You said it yourself, they pity me. But with you, it's just guilt, but I think the guilt will be quickly forgotten once they learn you're sexually involved with me."

I unlocked my door and swung it open, not caring that I was just in my shirt and boxer-briefs. Roxas was standing there looking smug.

"I'm not sexually involved with you," I argued, which was a half-truth, as it implied reoccurrence. Nothing of that nature happened since I sucked him off, which I felt wrong about the following morning and vowed to never do again until he was eighteen and things were official. "Why would they believe you when you've already shown you're a fucking basket case? What are you even trying to accomplish here, Roxas?"

"I'm trying to let you know that you don't get to just treat me however you want."

"So, you're trying to blackmail me." It was a statement. I didn't need his affirmation to know that's exactly what he was doing. "If you're trying to win me over, you're failing spectacularly. I'm not afraid of you, or the threat of you telling mommy and daddy that you want my dick in you."

He scoffed but a blush still crept to his cheeks.

"I know you're afraid of rejection and being alone," I continued, "But this plan of yours to threaten to me isn't going to do anything but piss me off. Quoth the Roxas: 'take rejection like an adult'. I'll still be here for you. But, y'know, platonically."

Roxas shifted his weight back and forth between his left and right side, like he was mulling things over. "Okay," he said simply. "Fine."

"Fine?"

He looked to make sure no one was coming up the stairs before taking a step towards me. "I guess you don't want to pump me full of cum next week."

Hearing such desperate vulgarity from him made me laugh, despite my best efforts to hold it back. "I'm not ruled by my libido. You're cute and I'd love to fuck you, sure. But I can keep my wits about me, especially when I know it's for the best—for both of us. Goodnight, Roxas."

I closed my door, and this time I heard him walk away. With a deep sigh that halfway morphed into a yawn, I collapsed into bed, not even caring enough to brush my teeth or finish getting pajamas on. I buried my face into my pillow and decided that I had to leave the Henley house for good, for my own sanity.

Or whatever was left of it.