Something perfect, something empty
Sometimes when Axel looks at his hands, at the long thin fingers – piano fingers, his mother had once told him long, long ago – when he looks at the gap between them, he feels like there's something missing.
He clenches his hands shut, nails biting into his flesh; crescent pink moons appearing on his skin, trying to rid himself of the feeling that someone else's fingers should be entwined with his, filling the vacant gaps.
He's tried filling the emptiness there before, but he could always tell after a few moments of another's clammy hand locked with his that it's just not right.
He's never found a hand that fits with his, and for some reason that just feels wrong; though he doesn't quite understand why finding the perfect hand matters so much.
He's walking down the street, lonely hands shoved in the pockets of his favourite old bomber jacket, finger tips pink from the cold, biting air he was now hiding them from. Long red hair is flopping into his face messily because he didn't have class or work today and it hadn't been worth the effort styling it, so of course he couldn't see where he was going, and of course he ended up bumping into someone.
That someone fell to the ground with a soft "Oof!" It was a smaller body than Axel's own, and at the brief flash he had seen before collision, it was someone delicate. He immediately felt bad for knocking them down.
Pushing his hair out of his eyes, an apologetic grin on his face, he held out his hand. "Sorry about that." He chuckled, taking his first proper glance at the poor soul he'd bowled over.
Icy blue eyes glared up at him under a fringe of dishevelled blond hair. The kid, who looked to be about seventeen, was scowling up at him, rubbing at his scraped hands. "Watch where you're going next time."
Axel let out a soft chuckled as the petite blond boy grudgingly accepted his hand, and when Axel hauled the surprisingly heavy boy up he couldn't help but notice the way the teens hand felt in his own. It didn't feel wrong, it didn't feel uncomfortable, and when the boy was standing, without asking permission Axel interlocked their fingers. The blond gave him a startled look but didn't pull away.
"What are you doing?" he asked with a slightly bemused twitch to his lips, and an eyebrow arched sceptically.
"Filling the gaps," Axel replied cryptically, shifting slightly so his fingers were splayed against the blond's; the boy's fingers were almost a joint shorter. And by the way the boy smiled, with that look in his eyes, Axel thought maybe he understood.
They were staring silently at each other for a long moment before the boy broke the surprisingly not awkward silence. "This is the strangest version of shaking hands I've ever seen, but nice to meet you anyway I guess. I'm Roxas." His grin was small but genuine, and Axel could feel something, maybe in his heart, or his stomach - were there butterflies in him? Because something was definitely fluttering. And maybe he felt a little sick, but a pleasant sort of sick.
"Hello Roxas." And something about the way the name rolled off his tongue felt familiar. "I'm Axel, and you'd better get it memorized, because I have a feeling – and I hope I'm right – that we'll be seeing more of each other."