Demyx knew that over the course of the next three months he would have plenty of time to get bored, but he offered to assist Leon and Naminé prepare dinner all the same. It never hurt to be courteous and helpful. He was going to and fro from the kitchen bringing out cutlery and napkins to set upon the tables.
Roxas and Axel were at the bar, not talking, which did not surprise Demyx at all. He had heard barely a handful of words from Roxas. However, on one trip out, he spotted Axel reaching with one, long, delicate finger to tilt up the younger man's chin with the intent of kissing him soundly on the mouth. Demyx was rather stunned the see the blond return the gesture. He was rooted to the floor for one involuntary and embarrassing moment, watching avidly as their lips moved and Axel's tongue slipped into Roxas' mouth.
Thankfully, Demyx was able to exit the room again before either man was to notice that he had been staring.
For the rest of night he felt just a touch off. He kept glancing at Roxas, wondering what he could possibly be thinking about after kissing Axel. The boy still did not speak much, but, and Demyx could have been mistaken, he thought he saw something happy or at least pleasant sparkling in his ice-blue eyes.
Dinner came and went and Demyx still only heard a few choice phrases push themselves past Roxas' stubborn lips. Even once most of the customers had gone or turned in for the night and they sat at the bar drinking themselves sick, Roxas remained quiet. Although, his cheeks did become a lovely rosy shade as the alcohol worked its way through his system.
Even with the distraction of Roxas' endearing flush, Demyx felt himself falling prey to his mulish desire to bring something out of Roxas. So, he sent quite intently upon starting some kind of conversation. The easiest and most direct way seemed to be asking the boy about himself. Where had he come from? Why had he come?
Demyx watched as the blonde's eyes turned downwards regarding the droplets of condensation that had dripped from his glass onto the wooden surface of the bar. He dipped his finger into them, drawing nonsense designs on the wood, they quickly dried away.
"I came from…" He sighed deeply and left his sentence at that, turning instead to the other. "And I came because I did not want to be there any longer."
The sailor and the barkeep knew instantly that these had been the wrong questions to ask him, for his eyes would not rise again and his mouth would not open. Shortly thereafter, he rose steadily to his feet and bid them goodnight. Once again, Axel did not follow him, only watched after him longingly.
"Another prize you have there," Demyx noted drunkenly. Axel gave him a halfhearted glare.
"One man's trash," the redhead whispered.
It took quite some time before Roxas seemingly forgave Demyx for the harmless prying into his past. The blond would not so much as look at him for a week. However, Demyx was not certain that it was a treatment solely for him. It was as if a chill aura had surrounded the boy. No one was able to get close to him, until one morning, Demyx shambled down the stairs, spotting him conversing with Axel, a faint and stunning smile on his face.
Demyx caught a glimpse, in one painful and violent moment, of what Axel always spoke of when his words wandered towards Roxas. It was…it was like singing. It was beautiful and heavenly and natural and reminded Demyx so much of the sea.
Unwilling to ruin their moment, Demyx came over silently and sat himself beside Axel without intervening into their conversation.
"You are an idiot, Axel," Roxas said softly. "You know very well that you won't be able to cut a deal with Auron."
"I can still try," Axel purred. He was obviously no longer being serious, just simply basking in the radiance of Roxas' amusement. "Maybe if I offer to pay him with Naminé? Then I wouldn't have to worry about Leon getting his greasy hands onto her."
"His hands are only greasy, Axel." Roxas said his name as if it were a taunt in its own right. "Because your menu is positively vile."
"I am insulted."
"I hope so. There is enough grease in your recipes to slide an elephant through the doorway."
"I know what else I could slide—"
Roxas, his face having turned quite red, told him to be quiet. Demyx, like Axel, was unable to contain his grin.
"Takes a bit to make a sailor blush," Demyx offered, slyly. The blond sent him a glare, but the full force of his anger was not behind it.
"The filth that comes from his mouth is excessive," Roxas murmured, turning to the side, trying to look prim and proper and disapproving.
In retaliation, Axel leaned toward Demyx's ear, whispering loudly, "I once heard him utter an oath that would have made Cid's ears turn red."
Demyx remembered well the gruff and mouthy first mate from when they had been apprenticed together on the Highwind. He had nearly set Demyx to tears one afternoon while scolding him for some moronic prank that had been Axel's in the first place. His mouth was a legend, which all cabin boys shared amongst one another and secretly hoped to emulate. One had to wonder just what would provoke such foulness from one so calm and introvert as Roxas.
Naminé came bustling into the room, a small white flower tucked over her ear. Axel gritted his teeth and pretended not to see, even as Roxas called her over and complimented her on it. Demyx had to smile seeing the boy aggravating Axel openly.
"So," Axel grunted, still trying to control his temper. "Where are the two of you off to today?" He looked expectantly between Demyx and Roxas.
"I'll be working until this evening," Roxas ventured.
Demyx only shrugged his shoulders. "I may go down to piazza and have lunch. I can only stomach this grease for so long."
Roxas opened his mouth, shut it without saying anything, and then opened it again. "If you could wait until three, we could go together."
The people around him were almost too stunned to even blink. Naminé glanced over at him, puzzlement all over her pretty face. Axel was somewhere between pleased and jealous and Demyx was simply speechless.
"If you would like?" he offered cautiously.
The boy was embarrassed to have them all gaping at him. He seemed liable to withdraw his offer, so Demyx asserted his acceptance again. A small smile pulled at the corner of Roxas' mouth.
"Well, I will see you then." He got up and left without another word.
Axel turned to stare at Demyx.
"See?" he asked breathlessly.
And Demyx did.
He met Roxas promptly at three outside the jeweler's. The blond seemed somewhat surprised to see him there.
"You did say to meet you," Demyx pointed out in reply to his shock. Roxas' face burned just slightly.
"That I did."
Together they took the back alleys, putting as much possible distance between themselves and the docks and the tourists. After some walking and searching, they found somewhere that was friendly to locals.
It was only amongst the native speakers that Demyx suddenly caught a strange accent hanging on the ends of Roxas' words. He mulled it over in his head, trying to place it with one of many wondrous lands he had visited in his travels. When it did not come to him, he eventually gave up, as he was averse to asking for the information firsthand.
For their meal they ordered a large bowl of pasta to split between them. Demyx did not have much money and Roxas said he was not hungry enough to eat the whole thing himself. Between two other people it may have seemed an intimate gesture, but to them it was only a matter of convenience.
The better part of their meeting was spent in silence. They drank sparingly from their small glasses of wine, listening to the talk of others around them. It reminded Demyx of the murmur of the sea, and he already felt the longing to return to the Nocturne. When he was on her, he never felt lonely, not like he did in this place full of people.
He was a little pathetic that way, even amongst a crowd that he was entertaining, receiving compliments on his sitar strumming, he could feel as if he were alone. It was on the ship or with his close friends that he truly felt as if he were a part of something. He wondered how Roxas felt, he wanted to ask and not doing so burned at his throat, but, somehow, he knew the boy would not answer.
At some point, while they were eating, the young blond seemed to realize his distress. Demyx caught him fiddling with his napkin, a look of anxiety on his face.
"Where are you from, Demyx?" he asked softly, unexpectedly.
Demyx felt himself smiling. It had taken much for Roxas to ask. "I'm from France, around Marseilles."
Roxas watched him quietly, although something flashed in his eyes to show that he had registered the response. "Is it nice there?" There was a hint of wistfulness in his voice that Demyx chose not to notice.
"Yes, nicer than Paris, I think, but I love the sea." It seemed a safe topic, so he pursued it. "How do you feel about the ocean?"
"While talking to a sailor it seems impolite to say I dislike it."
"There's no need to lie to me either."
"There's no need," Roxas parroted. "I quite like the ocean. It was a long sail here…" The delicate slip of information was not on purposeful. Demyx watched his eyes widen and his mouth shut firmly. He knew there would be no more talk about Roxas, so he continued on about himself.
"I haven't been back to Marseilles in years…I don't have any family left there, they've all moved inland toward the capital. I don't much mind it, my family never got along. Father only apprenticed me to the ship because he didn't know what else to do with me."
Roxas listened and heard every word, but he offered nothing more to the conversation. They finished their meal in that way, Demyx speaking in-between mouthfuls and Roxas nodding while sipping at his wine.
Into the third month of Demyx's leave a large man in the attire of the British military entered the Flurry of Dancing Flames. He had unruly black hair, shimmering eyes, and a smaller, blond, subordinate at his side.
The two approached the bar and nodded politely to Axel, however it was clear they were not there for recreation. Demyx watched them with interest from his seat by the window and ceased the playing of his sitar. He half wished Roxas were there, just because he imagined the boy had never seen a fully bedecked Dragoon before.
"Pardon, sir, my name is Zack Allen," the dark-haired man said in passable Italian. "I am searching for a young man by the name of Roxas Sorour. I have something urgent to discuss with him and I was told that he would be here."
Axel eyed him warily. He knew the signs of something gone wrong, he was an expert in things gone wrong. However, Demyx recalled his friend's fervent desire for calm waters when it came to his beloved Roxas.
"He comes here sometimes in the evening," the redhead shrugged. "But there are many who do. I can't guarantee you that he'll be here tonight."
Zack did not seem at all perturbed. "Might you know where we would be able to find him?"
Axel scowled. "I don't make a habit of giving out my customers personal information."
"Are you saying you would do it for a fee?" Zack wondered, his weight shifted, presenting his right side a bit more prominently, on his belt hung a heavy purse.
Axel's scowl intensified. "I'm not."
Zack made a sound of resignation, turning slightly to survey the room. He caught Demyx's curious stare and raised an eyebrow of incitement.
"And you sir?"
"I'm just a sailor on furlough, sir," the musician responded coolly.
The young boy at Zack's side fidgeted irritably. He did not understand why his commander was allowing these Italians to lie to him so blatantly. Zack laid a soothing hand on his shoulder.
"Calm yourself, Cloud," he said with a smile. Then he returned his attentions to the barkeep. "Would it be possible to arrange a room for the night?"
There was no good reason to say no, so Axel begrudgingly found his ledger.
"Two beds?" he muttered grumpily.
"If at all possible," Zack confirmed, his smile as benign as a dove.
Axel tossed over the keys, forgetting courtesy what for his foul mood.
When the two men had gone, Demyx rose, stretching and yawning widely. "Guess I'll be off then." Axel caught his meaning and nodded.
Demyx wandered the back streets with a prickling at the base of his skull. What could a pair of Dragoons possibly want with Roxas? He heard the bell tolling and knew if he did not hurry Roxas would leave the jeweler's for lunch…
While he was gone, Zack and his young friend returned. Zack did not even seem to glance at the seat beside the window, but it was still obvious that he knew.
"Where has that sailor gone?" he asked softly.
Axel shrugged. "I'm an innkeeper not a nanny."
"Just tell us where he's gone, you fucking Mick." The blond growled.
Axel bristled behind the counter. "Hold your tongue or I'll cut it out for you, boy. You look like a Sheep-Fucker who's forgotten himself, don't talk to me like I'm beneath you." He had not lost the ability to speak English throughout the years and, in the heat of his rage, his heritage poured itself forth. It had been years since he'd been back to Ireland, but he was loyal to his country's blood. Cloud stirred uneasily, as if ready to continue.
Zack gave his companion a reprimanding scowl. "That's enough, Cloud." He turned his calm gaze back to Axel, but he seemed to have lost some of his patience. "Sir, might I enquire as to your name? I must know who it is that is inhibiting the word of the Queen."
"Axel Murray, shall I write it nice and big so her ladyship can read it without having to get off her great fat arse?"
"You separatist piece of shit!" Cloud snarled, but again Zack laid a restraining hand on his shoulder.
"Thank you, sir," he said, smiling.
"You can't do anything to me, you Brit," Axel growled. "Not while I'm a loyal citizen of Italia." He stressed the word loyalty. He had been a sailor on an Italian ship and he had lived a good deal of his life in Venice. Ireland was his lifeblood, but Italy was his home.
"I have no intention," Zack assured him, turning and heading for the door, his damn British boots clicking crisply. "However, should Roxas Sorour come here, please tell him that we are looking for him."
Axel and Cloud continued to throw silent insults at each other, until Zack called curtly for the boy. Even then the blond flipped him the bird on his way out.
Naminé peaked out from the kitchen area; she caught sight of the fury in Axel's green eyes.
"You can come out now," the man muttered, throwing himself violently into cleaning to bar.
"I wasn't eavesdropping," she offered hesitantly.
"It's good that you didn't come out."
"I…" She knew that.
"Wouldn't want those fucking crumpet-suckers taking you back off to merry ol' fuckin' England, now would we?"
She smiled at him sadly. "I wouldn't have gone."
"You would have. You're one of them." She'd been kidnapped from her British family, which had settled down in Africa.
"Axel," she protested. "I'm as Italian as you are."
"Which apparently isn't very." He scrubbed a hand back through his red hair anxiously. "Fucking teabags…Where do they get off? Noses in the air…calling me a damn Mick when my Italian is better than theirs, I'll tell you that."
Naminé laughed. "Better than most," she assured him. She walked away from him and began to sing a little song Demyx had taught her,
"Spiders and sowbugs and beetles and crickets,
Slugs from the roses and ticks from the thickets,
Grasshoppers, snails, and a quails' eggs or two—
All to be regurgitated for you.
Lullaby, lullaby, swindles and schemes,
Flying's not near as much fun as it seems."
(chp. 4 – pg 45)
Axel glanced up at her and her strange song. "What are you singing?" Had she said regurgitated?
Naminé flushed. "I learned it from Demyx, 'tis a bird's song."
Axel laughed. "Course it is."
Demyx did not make it to the jeweler's in time to stop Roxas. When he arrived at the small store he found the lights turned out and the door locked. He cursed under his breath and plopped himself down outside the door. He would have to wait, Roxas had to come back eventually, even if he did look quite the fool in the meantime.
When the blond came wandering along down the empty street, Demyx was half asleep. He had to drag himself bodily from the comforting arms of unconsciousness.
"What are you doing here?" Roxas wondered, crossing his arms over his chest uncomfortably and looking away.
"There was some trouble at the Flame," Demyx began, but Roxas' eyes had turned to him in such a whip-snapping intense moment that he forget all about what he was saying.
Roxas pressed him when he was silent for too long. "Is everyone all right?"
Demyx's tongue felt too thick in his mouth. "Yeah, they were looking for you, actually…"
"Who was looking for me?" Roxas' eyes had lit up, the sailor had no idea what it was floating on their stormy waters, but it was vivid.
"Couple of Dragoons."
Roxas turned on heel at his words and began to run. Demyx…Demyx watched after him, rooted to the spot and stunned. Just like the first time he'd seen him.
Axel was still in a foul mood when Roxas burst in through the front door. His beautiful, wonderful, fabulous, splendorous Roxas was sweating and panting and was most definitely not there to see him.
"Demyx…he said…"
"They've come and gone," Axel shrugged, inferring the question without much brainwork on his part.
Roxas struggled to control himself, his voice was steady and measured when he spoke again, too much so. "Will they be back?"
"I expect, they've rented rooms for the night," the redhead growled, still sour at the little Scottish prick following about his prissy British general like a puppy 'bout to piss itself.
Roxas left the doorway, where he'd been clutching the jamb; he left it wide open behind him. He came forward and collapsed onto one of the stools, sinking forward to rest his chin on the bar.
Naminé bustled by and shut the door and Axel kept his eyes on Roxas.
"What's going on?" He didn't want things to go wrong; he didn't want things to go wrong!
"I don't know yet," Roxas mumbled and that was all he would say.
Zack and Cloud came parading back into the Flame just after dinner. Demyx and Axel became very tense, watching them warily as Roxas approached. There were some quiet words shared between the commander and the blond. Then they headed upstairs, presumably, to Zack's room.
"Who?" Roxas asked, leaning back against the door heavily. He looked shell-shocked and Cloud felt a pang of sympathy for him.
"Do you want me to read the list?" Zack went to the small desk and lifted up a sheet of papyrus.
He watched the battle fight itself between Roxas' eyes. The boy nodded, at length, and Zack began to read.
"Sora and Kairi Seger, Locke and Refia Sorour, Aladdin and Jasmine Ababwa, the Jenova triplets, Riku Pavlov— "
"Stop."
Zack did so, putting the paper, only half read, back onto the desk. His eyes moved slowly on their way to regard Roxas.
"What will you do, Roxas?" he whispered. There was something almost cruel on his face, but Cloud could not believe that Zack was honestly capable of being cruel. He would most definitely not harm someone so obviously defenseless, such as Roxas.
"I…" Roxas turned away, moving toward the window, staring out into the night at the alley below and whatever activity was going on between the two narrow walls. "I will find some way to…"
Zack approached him from behind; he had a sealed letter, which he put into the blonde's tiny hands.
"Where will you find passage?" he asked, holding the paper to Roxas' palm when the boy's fingers did not curl to take it.
"I will find it."
"Be quick, or it will be too late."
"I understand, thank you for coming so far to…Thank you."
Zack's smile looked sickly and Cloud never wanted to see the painful expression on his commander's face again.
"It was my duty."
Roxas' thin show of teeth was worse.
Roxas came back down the stairs within the hour, his friends tried to press him for information, but he simply said he was going home. Axel rounded the counter and followed him to the door; the blond did not seem to appreciate the sentiment.
"What are you doing, Axel?" he growled tiredly.
His lover held his ground firm and looked him in the eye. "I'm walking you home because I'm worried about you."
Roxas looked like he was going to argue, his mouth opened and his eyes flared, but Axel laid a hand on his shoulder. He did not say a word, only touched him, and that was the end.
Roxas lived several miles away from the inn, his home was very small, hence his preference to the Flame. He had a toilet, a small kitchen, a bedroom, and the tiny front room that had to perform every other function he required of it. He did not spend much time there, but for sleeping, and Axel had not seen much of it.
So, when they arrived at the door, the redhead was somewhat surprised to be invited inside. He watched the way Roxas moved around on his own turf. It was the same way he treated everything else, as if it didn't matter. As if he knew it would be gone soon and it would only hurt him in the long run to pay any attention to it.
Axel's attention caught when Roxas carefully laid an unopened letter onto the low table of his receiving room.
"Do you want coffee, since you're already shirking your duties?" the blond offered.
This place does not suit you at all, Roxas. Axel thought despondently. You deserve something wide-open and beautiful. I could even like the sea again if you were there.
"Please."
Roxas wandered toward his inadequate kitchen and, with effort, lit the stove and set on a kettle. When it was well on its own way, he began to come back, but paused in the doorway. He was staring at Axel oddly and his lover had no idea what to make of it.
"Nothing has happened," Roxas announced after a far too discomforting silence.
"Liar."
"Sometimes," Roxas admitted. "But it's true. Nothing has happened that effects you."
"What's yours is mine," the barkeeper insisted, he reached out to grab Roxas, but the boy danced back.
"That's rather greedy of you."
"I love you, Roxas," Axel said. It was all he had to say and he honestly believed it was all that mattered in this scenario. "If something has happened to you, tell me."
"What will you do once you have me for all time, Axel?" the younger replied, cocking his head to the side, his face becoming sharp and cynical. "I will always lie to you. I'm just like all your other terrible choices for companions."
Axel gaped at him, unseemly and rather like a fish. "Feel free to lie." He did not know how to explain to Roxas, however, that he was nothing like any person he had ever met before.
The way he responded seemed to confuse the other. The boy was staring again, his eyes narrowed and stormy. It was a self-defense mechanism, protecting himself from being hurt by something, Axel did not know what.
Then Roxas approached him cautiously like a deer stepping into the clearing, snuffling carefully for the scent of danger.
"I have to go away for a while."
Axel had known, the second he had heard Roxas' name come spilling forth from between Zack's lips, he had known. He was ready for it when Roxas confirmed it and his only reply was to offer out his hand. The blond took it tentatively and then Axel pulled him in, hugging him tightly.
"If you'll wait." The words pried themselves painfully from between Roxas' pale lips. His body shook because he was cold and afraid and Axel wanted to ask him why, but he did not know how.
"I can wait, but only if you promise to come back."
"I can't do that."
Axel felt the organ in his chest give a heartfelt thump.
"Axel?" Roxas' whisper was vulnerable and afraid. "Would you kiss me?"
"No," Axel returned, smiling. "I'll kiss you when you return. We'll both have to wait because I won't disappoint you. When I take you, it will be for good." Then he pulled away from Roxas' embrace, opening the door to leave. He only had one final message to leave in his wake. "Goodnight, I'm sorry about the coffee."
The version of Peter S. Beagle's 'The Last Unicorn' that I've taken excerpts from is the Special Anniversary Edition published by ROC (with illustrations by Mel Grant). I do not claim to have written any of these aforementioned quotations and all will be noted.