"My turn," Tifa knocked, opening the bedroom door.
Roxas lifted his head off his bed in question, he was physically drained from his time with Cloud. It was bringing back some unsettling memories.
"Your dad had you all day, now it's my turn." She had a pleasant smile on her face, but Roxas didn't feel like she was being as innocent as she was acting.
He rolled out of bed, taking his time to get up. She patiently waited in the doorway, watching Roxas trying to hide his soreness; the smile never left her face, unjudging. Once he was standing she lead the way to the kitchen, facing the teen from across the counter.
"I know you've talked to Sora, or Riku, or whoever," her words and tone weren't matching. "I've never been good at 'home-cooked' meals." She showed the quotations with her fingers, monologuing off to herself before facing the blond again. "Do you have any favorites?"
It was bold of her to assume he knew anything about cooking, but she didn't miss a beat.
"We can look up anything," she pulled out her phone. "Internet is amazing, and," she pulled out her keys, "The store isn't too far away. But... you've been here too long to not have your favorite dish." There was that pleasant smile again. She kept throwing them out like they were supposed to mean something to him, or make him feel better about his life.
Tifa was wearing him down, and he gave in. Looking up in thought, trying to rummage through his mind to think of anything, anything at all. But suddenly all the dishes he loved and liked, were none existent. All he could think about was his mother. His mother loved to make food, at least she said she did...
Maybe she didn't really like to make food. Maybe she knew it was expected of her. Maybe she thought if she told Roxas she loved to, than Roxas wouldn't see the problem. Maybe the times he saw her smiling in the kitchen were all because he was there, helping ease her 'duties'. Maybe she was lying to Roxas. Maybe she was lying to herself.
Slam!
As if reading his mind, Tifa loudly set a pan on the counter. "This is my go-to pan, for everything." The silence was killing her, she was the complete opposite of Cloud.
"Pizza," shot out of the blond's mouth. He wasn't obsessed with it, but the moment she pulled out a sauce pan, and completely inconvenient meal popped in his head.
Tifa looked at her pan with a nod, "Okay," she drew out, returning the pan to its proper place. "We can make pizza, what kind?"
After painstakingly pulling teeth from Roxas, they came to the conclusion that they were going to make BBQ chicken pizza, with onions and ham on top too. Apparently when she said 'home made', she also meant 'from scratch'. Using her phone to find a recipe for the dough, conveniently having all the ingredients they needed, the duo started out on their task of making dinner. It was interesting to watch, Tifa knew where everything was, but claimed to never go in the kitchen often. Was she trying to kiss up to Roxas too?
"The other night..." the blond broke the silence while they waited for the dough to rise. "Every night... all of it, sorry for being such... being such a dick. I mean, I shouldn't have come in here like that."
"Roxas," she cut him off, her tone softening as her motherly instinct began oozing out. "You don't need to apologize, but thank you. It must have been hard," she knew what she wanted to say, but not how to say it, like everyone else around Roxas- she was afraid to say the wrong thing. "Where did you go? When... when you ran away? A friends, relatives?"
No one had asked him about that, but then again, if they had he probably wouldn't have answered them.
He scoffed, but kept it quiet, regretting it as soon as it started. He was trying to give them all a real chance, but he needed to remind himself not to act like himself. After a second of silence he finally gave her a vague answer. "I, I don't know, I went all over. There's a lot of places that are open 24/7... Like the docks..." She didn't have to ask for him to know what she was thinking. "I thought about jumping on a boat, stowing away to some place, but it... that wasn't the point. I'm just waiting for her to wake up." He went out on a limb, forcing himself to open up to her and give her a little more than she was asking to try and account for every other second he was in their home.
Tifa took a huge leap too, placing her hand on Roxas', "And when she wakes up, I want you to know, we will still be here for you."
It almost made Roxas break down. To hear such affirmation towards his mother. No stuttering over words, or mumbling through. She didn't avoid it at all, and it made Roxas want to curl up in a ball and break down. He knew it didn't matter what she said. He knew that wouldn't affect his mother's health, but it reminded him how much he wanted her to wake up. He needed her to wake up, even if he couldn't live with her. Zack's words echoed in his head, Roxas knew he was full of it, he was only trying to scare the blond. But, it worked.
"Let's get the onions cut," Tifa smiled, knowing the teen was struggling.
Roxas nodded and followed her around the kitchen, grabbing the knife as she gestured towards it. She pulled out a cutting board, that Roxas never would have found on his own, and sat it on the counter with the onions and ham. Again, she wasn't used to cooking, but the board had scars going every which way. A dark spot, stained from the blood of previous vegetables, and now the new sacrifices where being put down.
Roxas volunteered to cut the ham, knowing he didn't want to help with the onions, for the same reason that would happen anyway.
He took the lead, lying the deli ham out on the cutting board and slicing away at it. As the blade began to slide across the cutting board, familiar motions took over. The sliding of the knife, back and forth, lifting his elbow at just the right times, like the knife was an eccentric rod on a train wheel. Whenever his mother had the time, and she always tried to make some, she would give him pointers. The more practice he got, the more natural things became. Roxas found his rhythm, some time ago, but it was comforting to know that even though he hadn't heard his mother's voice in such a long time, he still had these memories engraved in his every breath.
The ham was diced in a matter a seconds, done almost before Tifa could prepare herself. "Wow," she was shocked, "You did that really fast, you know how to handle a knife."
"Thanks..." he mumbled, backing away to make room for her. He was lost in his thoughts for a minute, feeling the motions and not really thinking. Now that he had finished something so simple, he felt cold. Blue eyes stared as Tifa began the same process as him, but it was almost painful to watch. Her cuts started rough, her rhythm more aggressive than his mother's...
She kept her pace up, and soon there was something pleasant about her motions, it was soothing to watch. At least, while he still could.
As Tifa continued cutting into the onion, they shared a problem. While they both started strong, water began to pour down their faces. Turns out she wasn't immune to their air born composition either.
"I'm sorry," Tifa dapped her eyes with a near by towel, still not having looked at Roxas. When she'd had her breath and looked at the teen, she couldn't stop the chuckle that escaped her.
Roxas, again, was in a puddle of water, but he couldn't stop the laughter either. "I can't," he started, trying to dry his eyes, "I can't stand onions."
They sniffled together, "Neither can I, but they taste good." Tifa kept cutting, working through the tears.
Eyes shifted to the clock, it was almost dinner time. With how long it would take to cook, it'd never be done in time if this kept up.
"I can," Roxas held his hand out for the knife. He was worse off than her, but if he cut himself he wouldn't feel bad, if she cut herself that would bother him for eternity. She only spared his hand a moment before she shook her head and focused back on the onions. Roxas didn't move his hand. Roxas couldn't stop his growing anger. She was being stubborn. "Let me." He insisted, inching his hand a little closer.
She was taking so long to cut the onion. Being careful not to cut herself, like she should be, but if Roxas was doing it, he wouldn't be going so slow. He'd be less nervous about cutting himself, knowing to back away when he felt the knife pierce his skin. But, even with his pause to bandage the cut and sanitize, he'd still get it done sooner than her. If she kept going this slow, it would cause a problem. Roxas couldn't handle the uneasy feeling that was growing in his stomach. He wasn't scared, but he was becoming agitated.
"Roxas," again she struggled to stop the tears, "It's fine," a familiar weak smile. "They're just onions."
Roxas retracted his hand, she was being stubborn for no reason. She was hurting herself for no reason. The tears became ignored as he looked around for a moment before jumping across the room. If she was going to be stubborn about the onions, he would start something else. He grabbed the prepared dough, already lining a tray, looking around the room again to try and figure out, on his own, where the sauce would be. He started opening cupboards, trying to assume where it might be.
Tifa didn't cook like his mother at all, his mom made sure everything was out and ready to go. She made sure everything was in a pile so all that needed to be done, was for it to be thrown together. There were some nights she would stay up after everyone else had gone to bed, Zack and Angeal, and she would be cutting food. She said it was to prep for the next day. Because the next day would come, she'd get out of work and rush to their kitchen, and have no time to prepare. She'd preheat everything and only have a few minutes before Zack and his charming brother would harass her for their dinner. She knew she wouldn't have time. She was always thinking ahead.
When he began to run out of cupboards, he finally asked for help, "Where do you keep your sauce?"
Tifa didn't attempt to answer with words, instead she wiped her eyes with a rag in one hand and pointed to a cupboard with the other. Roxas ran to the door, rummaging through it as quickly as he could. There were a lot of different added flavors to chose from. He grabbed one. It seemed like an okay choice. He popped it open as he rushed back to the pan. Splashing some red sauce on the dough.
And on the counter.
"Shit," he cursed himself, looking around for something to wipe it up. He couldn't work around a mess like that, but when he began to rush to clean it up, his name was called.
'Why are you rushing?" Her question sounded just as rushed.
"So we can hurry up and get this done," he didn't stop moving to answer her.
"Oh," she sounded defeated, "I thought you like to... if you want to be done, you can go sit?"
"It's almost..." he stopped himself. Looking around the kitchen that was not his kitchen. Without a word he ducked his head down, disappearing to the bathroom.
Roxas looked himself over in the mirror. What was he doing? There was this uneasiness oozing out of him, he clutched the counter like it was his anchor. Slowly he forced his heart to calm down, he forced his mind to clear, and he forced his breathing to relax. There was this panic rising in him that felt like it was going to explode, but like a pot of boiling pasta, he took it off the heat before it could bubble over.
There was no reason for him to be freaking out, he was only having some 'personal' cooking time with Tifa. And he was blowing it. He made eye contact with himself, the first thing he wanted when he was dropped off was a home cooked meal, and he was ruining it. The heat he had felt throughout his body was subsiding, but he still felt like he was going to be sick. He was angry, and not at anyone but himself. There's no reason for this, he told himself. Repeating over and over in his head.
There was a knock on the door, "Are you okay?" She sounded concerned and that wasn't what he wanted.
Reaching over, Roxas flushed the toilet, "Yeah." He washed his hands and hurried to leave the bathroom. His eyes sought out the clock, dinner time should've already started...
He slowly entered the kitchen with Tifa, taking a seat in a bar stool, he felt so out of himself and awkward now.
"Okay, onions are done," Tifa smiled, no longer crying. "And, I'm sorry, but Sora texted me, he won't be here for dinner." That wasn't a real surprise, his brother seemed to really like being anywhere but his own house.
As he thought about it, it dawned on him. In the days and weeks that Roxas had been there, he realized he still didn't know when their dinner time was. "When is dinner?"
"Whenever," Tifa shrugged, "It depends I guess." She didn't elaborate anymore than that.
And Roxas didn't want to bug her about the time, he needed to take a step back and stop getting worked up. What was wrong with him?
"Does your mom have a set time?"
"Yeah, Zack and Angeal need their dinner at 6."
Tifa stayed busy, making the pizza and not eye contact. "A good thing Zack and Angeal aren't here," she nodded her head to herself, her tone full of something like malice, "It's already 6:30" Roxas barely heard her mumble.
"I'm sorry, I do," He joined her by the counter, "I do like cooking."
The concern that had been tormenting her face lifted away into a smile, looking at the pizza she cleared a spot. Suddenly all the ham was near the top, the onions near the bottom and the chicken in the middle. It looked like a silly face. Roxas let out a weak snort, shaking his head as he added eyebrows.
They kept making faces, and suddenly their pizza also had fresh spinach thrown into it. Some tomatoes and green peppers for color.
"What about this?" One of them would joke, and time no longer mattered.
Roxas remembered the times he had with his mother, on the good days, and this was coming close.
Together they had made an impressing amount of faces, touching the food so many times it would be frowned upon by a health inspector. Then the mess really started. They were too busy laughing to notice. They were getting sloppy, everything was covered and they were wearing about as much food as the dough.
And the front door opened.
Roxas jumped, spinning around to face whoever had entered the house. He'd stopped breathing.
"What's this?" Cloud asked, a small smile gracing his lips. If only Roxas could see it.
"Sorry," Tifa wiped her face off, "We got a little carried away." She hurried to slide the pizza into the oven.
Roxas was tense for both of them, reading the situation as best he could, but he wasn't familiar with it.
He watched as Cloud pulled the chair, gauging how hard he shifted it. Cloud silently sat down, gently. The younger blond had his hands clench, he stood between Cloud and Tifa, his shoulders rising with every inhale.
"Could you grab me a glass of water?" His voice sounded so innocent.
As his wife began to move, Roxas beat her to it. Taking the water without a word, he stood arms length away from Cloud, pausing for a moment, the heat in the room rising. Looking down at Cloud, setting the glass down, inching closer without taking his eyes off Cloud. Cloud lifted his hand.
Roxas took a step back, without taking his eyes off Cloud. He walked back to where Tifa was, waiting to take his eyes off of Cloud. They stayed silent, everything was normal. It was unusual, he had to poke the bear.
"Yeah, it's going to be a little while..."
Cloud didn't stop drinking to answer, and it left Roxas on edge.
"That's fine," he sounded so casual.
There was nothing to follow. No angry slam of his glass on the table, no threat, no trash talking. Nothing.
It just was.
It was different, to be in their house. There was a lot that he hadn't noticed about himself until he gave them a chance... The morning he came out to them laughing and eating breakfast, that wasn't just a one time thing... He wasn't used to that at all, and he wasn't sure if he could. He never said anything, but the 'dinner' was eaten in the living room.
"You guys made this?" Cloud asked while he was taking a bite, the cheese pulling apart while the topping fell everywhere.
"Uh-huh, Roxas came up with the idea." She smiled, but it kind of sounded like she was throwing Roxas under the bus. He didn't get a chance to defend himself, because Cloud cut him off to praise the idea.
"This is really good, it's messy, but tasty."
Roxas sat silent, eyeing the pizza in front of him and then looking up at the parents that weren't his. There were begging to come out of him, but they didn't form anything comprehensible. Tifa looked up from her food, laughing at her husband for the mess he was making on himself, and when her eyes fell on Roxas, she broke his dilemma.
"What does your mom usually make for dinner?"
"Not this," he scoffed, "She'd be crucified..."
Zack would make a small comment about it being something so plain, and then Angeal would add his two-cents. His would be the game changer... Angeal would sit next to his brother, and grab the food, look at it and then his mother... He'd toss it off to the side and say how it wasn't a real meal, and how it wasn't enough to sustain anything that actually lived and breathed. Angeal would be mean, and then Zack would flip. There was a switch inside of him that his brother would hit and that was the end of it... The things Zack did made Angeal delightful. Roxas and his mother would be done for.
It would be an excuse to start a fight with his mother, something she did wrong... because everything she did was wrong to them.
"By who?" Tifa sounded so innocent...
"Zack and Angeal." Roxas had to spit it out.
There was a silence that took over the meal, everyone wanted to say something, but no one knew how to break the ice.
"That's not fair," the father finally said, eyeing his food like it was going to jump away. "They have no right to treat her like that."
Roxas scoffed, shaking his head, "It's not like there's anyone around to stop them." He glared at his father, but the longer the words sat, the more he felt them inward. "It's not like she had a chance to stay away..." He let his words fade out.
"Did you ever talk to the teachers at school?" Her voice was soft, still not as soft as his mother's.
He wasn't hungry anymore. He started the day with a clean slate, he'd given them a chance, and it was nice. The life they had was pleasant, but the more he thought about it, the more he concluded that it wasn't his life. There was no room in this life for him. Even if he tried, he wouldn't be able to fit in. "Never making that mistake again." He squeezed his arm, standing up before thoughts could fester. He excused himself, shutting the bedroom door slowly and quietly, pausing for only a second to rest his forehead against the piece of wood. Coming here brought up a lot of emotions, in the form of regret and anger, but settling as sadness, squeezing the thought out of his head before he opened the window.
As much as he wanted to, he couldn't stay with the happy family. It wasn't his and he would only tear it apart.
Maybe Zack and Angeal were right, maybe everything was his fault...
He wouldn't wait to find out.
He jumped out the window, and wandered, his body still tired for the morning with Cloud, but his thoughts were clearing away any physical discomfort. His thoughts were doing a lot worse to him, and there wasn't anything he could do to stop it. No matter how fast he walked, he couldn't outrun them.
Maybe Cloud stayed away because it was all true. Maybe it wasn't really his mother Zack and Angeal hated, maybe it was Roxas. Maybe they took it out on his mother, to get to the teen. There wasn't anything he could do about it. His mother was still in the hospital bed. She still tried to kill herself... to get away from him? The more he thought the more his own inner monologue took over.
Get yourself together Roxas. You're not a fucking sob story. Get over it.
Footsteps began to echo his, a stranger following behind him in the dark. He could hear them, but he didn't care.
Probably someone out doing their own thing. And if not, who gives a shit?
He started telling himself that a little too much, and he was starting to believe it less. The longer it continued, the more some deep uncomfortable feeling was rising. Zack said his mother probably wasn't going to wake up, and as much as he hated Zack he had to admit the guy had a point... His mother waking up wouldn't change anything, he still wouldn't be allowed to live with her...
Her pulling through- seeing her smile was enough to get him through any day. And, he wasn't some weak defenseless punk, he could handle his own. He smirked as he thought of the red head, 'Mr. Tough-Guy'... but he was doing everything Axel said, his fists were clenched and his head was down. Preparing his body to turn around, it was the little things he noticed. His muscles were already tightened up, sore but tight, he was prepared to be jumped. Maybe Zack was still in town, and maybe it was him.
Turning quickly, he faced his stalker. Stopping in his tracks.
"Nothing scares you... does it." The cheeky smile on the tattooed face of no one other than the man he'd just been thinking about.
"What can I say," Roxas shrugged, relaxing, if only a little bit.
"Why are you out here so late?"
"Trying to get away..." his answer surprised Axel, and himself. Not because it was some remarkable response, but it was sincere. Roxas could have knit picked that it wasn't even late, he could ask his 'friend' the same thing, he could laugh it off, change the subject, but he didn't
Surprise only lasted a second, Axel nodded to the side, "Follow me."
Roxas was interested in their 'adventure', even more so when it was to somewhere new. With people he'd never seen, but they looked like they had as much character as Axel. The only familiar one shared his joint, Roxas inhaled deeply, he'd do whatever he could to get away. As he handed it back to Axel, he was directed to hand it to a blond with a weird looking fauxhawk.
.
.
.
I haven't made much time for myself in the last couple of years, which includes not really reading. I have a Pinterest and that's about as much reading as I do, but there's a lot of tips on there. Different writing styles, and pointers... I'm trying to remember how to write in more than a preschool length sentence and I was bad before, but even more so now that I'm rusty.
TODBD and OD resonate something inside me, I re-read them often, but I've come to the conclusion I'll never be happy. I'll always look back and try to critic everything. I'll always try to do better because my first shot is never enough to me. Alsooooooo... I'm reminded that I want TIDBD and OD will both have a sort of sequel, and I still want to do a sequel to Cigarette Burns and this one. I haven't even finished this one, but I came up with the SEQUEL before I even started planning this one out.
(That's a reason I put the dates on the bottoms of the chapters... Uploaded vs updated.. something for me to look back on.)
Today and yesterday two of my very close friends died. Feb 6th 2007 I lost a friend that was like an older brother, and Feb 7th 2010 I lost another brother figure. My point being about grief, I used to get struck with a grief spell this time of year... but this is the first year I've felt... determined? Motivated? I wish they were here today, one would tell me that I was doing good, the other would chuckle and give me a smart ass compliment...
I'm not really doing good, and I know that. But they'd say something like that because that's the kind of people they will always be. And there's this warmth I feel when I think of them now, even though I can't remember their voices...
Enough rambling. Gah. Message me?
Uploaded: February 7th
