There was a certain mentality that went with this form of life... or not-life. Whatever it happened to be. And whatever-it-happened-to-be might just have been getting him down as of the moment. Besides all the backstabbing and double agents and general unrest amidst the ranks of the Wicked (in other words, not the founding six), Roxas no longer knew who he could trust. Or at least who he could place his illusions of trust in.
Then again, he was a Nobody. Why was that even remotely important? He scowled, kicking his feet gently against the ground as he walked. Life was of milling about these days - waiting for something to come along and rouse the world of nothingness, or otherwise sitting idly by and watching as the others were paid their dues. The most recent was Vexen. The assailant? Axel. He came to a halt in front of the large tower that loomed, in all its neon-lit glory, in the deserted square. Memory's Skyscraper. It brought with it a sense of foreboding, knowing that Axel had erased Vexen's existence, whatever that was worth. For Nobodies, it wasn't even an existence to start out with. Ho hum. Just another day at the office.
But what was doubt to someone who couldn't truly feel it? What was a wound to one with no nerves, no blood? Hardly a wound at all, decidedly. And so, why feel even the remotest bit awkward about this predicament Axel had clawed himself into? Why feel bad for the death of something that was never alive to begin with? He could rationalize all he wanted, but the fact remained: something about the situation bothered him. Something in his perceptions of Axel had been irreversibly shaken.
He allowed a sigh to filter through his almost-closed lips, prolonging the seething sound that ensued by breathing out as much as possible, exhausting all of his resources into this one simple task. Perhaps his thoughts would leave him on the back of his breath, like horse and rider: noble steed and lazy, wearied freeloader. If he should only be so lucky.
The seething sigh was interrupted, however, by a frown that made itself evident without warning as Roxas slumped down to sit on the steps, tassles and chains clinking as if to compensate for the absence of the boy's hissing. As thirteen, he was the baby, and apparently that warranted babysitting. Or so testified the shock of crimson he'd snared in the corner of his gaze.
"I know you're there. Red hair doesn't help the cause."
"You think? I don't know. I think it's kinda stealthy. Like those big red streaks they put on the sides of Gummi ships to make them go faster." It was followed by a childish laugh - nearly everything Axel said was followed by a chortle of some sort. It amazed Roxas to think that there were actually those in the universe who knew when to take Number Eight seriously. He hadn't garnered the knack.
The Flurry in question revealed himself at the foot of the stairs, sidling out from an alleyway like a fox from its den. Problem was, this fox wasn't afraid of anything, and was under the impression that those hunting it weren't quick enough to prove a real threat, anyway. Nevertheless, filled to the brim with either illusions of bravado or simple social nothings, the fox sat himself down casually beside what was arguably his quarry. The natural order of things generally didn't apply when 'things' weren't the topic of conversation in the first place. The World That Never Was happened to be ignorant in that way.
"Third time this week I've found you out here," remarked the fox casually, toying idly with the fingers of his gloves. Axel had always been a fidgeter – it drove Roxas up the wall. "Something wrong?"
The blonde rolled his eyes. For one who seemed to know everything he didn't, Axel was a little clueless. His teeth grazed his lower lip, chewing both bitterly and thoughtfully. He could make some cheesy cliché about playing with fire, but so trite was the idea that he dismissed it. Besides, a comment like that was more likely to arouse Number Eight than to discourage him.
"You're not going back, right? To Castle Oblivion, I mean. Whatever's the problem there was dealt with when you got rid of Vexen, right?"
The short chuckle received by Roxas' left ear also proved to be the knell of his hopes. Perfect. Axel was intending upon being Xemnas' messenger forever and always.
"Do you really think Vexen, of all people, is the ringleader? The guy couldn't dominate baby ducks. Or rubber ones, for that matter." Another laugh. Roxas flinched, a side effect of restraining himself from punching Axel in the arm. Everything was so goddamn funny until someone found himself without a head to speak of.
"I can't think anything about it, Axel," he seethed, dragging himself into a stand. "I have no idea what's going on there, and it doesn't look like you're planning on telling me anytime soon." He scowled a little at the hand that had caught his wrist, keeping him from storming off. "Get out of my head!"
Another snicker ensued. Roxas was fully intent on punching the redhead that time, although the hand on his wrist prevented it. Maybe Axel had predicted that, too.
"Get it out of your head that you want to know," hissed the elder of the two, heaving himself into a stand. There was a bit of hesitation in his release of Roxas' wrist, as if he'd debated whether or not it was the right course of action. It probably wasn't.
"Knowing ain't everything it's cracked up to be. Makes everything fall to pieces." He opened his mouth to say something more, but thought better of it, causing the blonde's scowl to set even deeper into his face. He hated being led on, and he hated the smirk that was developing on the face of the harlequin who faced him.
"I think we might just be okay, you know that? Glad to know you're noticing me, Roxas."
And he hated that that was true.