I

Roxas

Area 51 is my favorite club. It's the best place to pick up freaks, since everyone here is a freak and no one's ashamed of it. Sliding through the crowds, moving to the music, feeling the beats pulse through me like a better heartbeat than mine, I can feel a whip coiled on someone's hip. That's why I like Area 51. Nobody cares if you're a freak. You're still normal, to them. You don't have to pretend.

I think I have two younger sisters. They're the sweetest girls you could ever lay eyes on. Twins. Pretty blue eyes. I think they make me angry.

I don't think it's them, really. They never really did anything to me except be sweet. But they weren't projects. They were just normal girls, who turned out to be gorgeous. When my parents signed up for the PGP, I think they were hoping for something different than what they got. They signed up for another program too, but it was illegal – intelligence-based, instead of looks. They thought I'd be the second coming of Einstein or something equally stupid.

Yes, I'm smart. But I know I'm a freak. There's something wrong with my brain; I can solve pretty much any equation you throw at me, but sometimes when I was younger I'd answer direct questions with numbers too. You know: what do you want to eat? Seven, three, twenty. It just made more sense to me that way. It still does, but I've taught myself how to block that out.

Nine months after they figured I'd never be anything but their strange quiet son, they sent me to stay with an old friend of my dad's for a few days. He's okay. He and his wife were nice to me, anyway. They have a son, who had just learned to sit up for a few seconds when I went to stay with them. I was only five at the time, so I didn't get to hold Sora very often and when I did, I had to sit on the couch. I liked holding him, even if I didn't like to touch anyone else, because he always smiled at me and never looked at me like the adults looked at me.

When I came home a week later, my parents sat me down and told me that I now had two little sisters, and I'd better stay out of the way so they could give them the love and attention they needed. I asked if they were still going to love me, just to make sure.

My mom said yes, at the same time my dad said no. It didn't bother me much, since I knew his answer before he said it (her answer threw me, but it didn't register right away), but she got mad at him. And I left. I just left the room; I didn't really understand what was going on, but I knew my mom could get pretty scary when she got angry. So I went in to see my new baby sisters.

They were kind of ugly to me. They're not ugly, but I'd never seen a newborn, and I didn't understand why they were so boring. I poked one of them and she started crying, which was when my parents came rushing into the room. My mom picked the baby up – the blanket was pink, so I know it was Kairi – and my dad took me out of the room.

He sat me down on my bed and said, "I told you to stay out of the way. That means you're not allowed to be around your sisters without me."

I think my dad's a little crazy. Crazier than me, even. He never hit me or anything; he just used a voice on me. It made me feel like I was a bad person. And I don't think he meant to do it; I actually think he was afraid of me. When he scolded me, I didn't cry or look away. When he talked to me – when anyone talked to me – I just sat there and stared at them, listening, even if I never looked them in the eye. I think he thought it was the experiment that made me like that, and I think he was right; I also think that's why he wanted different kids. Normal kids.

He got them. I never got too close to either of them, but Naminé always snuck textbooks and novels into my room when I was being punished, and once she drew a crayon picture of us. We were standing close to each other, and Kairi was on my other side, and our mom and dad were lying down on one side, looking very much dead. She was only eight, but she knew they treated us differently, and she didn't like it.

The last time I saw either of them is right before that blank spot. There was a day where we all snuck out; they were almost eleven, and I was almost fifteen, so I wasn't able to drive them alone but I did anyway. We drove to the beach and then took a boat to the little island all the kids play on, and we had a picnic. When we went back home…actually, I don't know what happened after that. I remember sneaking in through Kairi's window, because it was the only one we could all reach, and laughing with Naminé because Kairi kept slipping and she was tiring out, even though it was the middle of the day, but then it wasn't so funny when she fell and got cut and it wouldn't stop bleeding.

And then there's nothing. I don't know where they went, but they weren't there when I left the house. Maybe the whole thing was a dream. I never saw any pictures of them. But I do have the picture Naminé drew, so it's all confusing.

I don't know why I'm thinking about them right now. I haven't thought about them in over a year, after all. It might be because I just saw a girl with blonde hair and blue eyes, and she looked delicate like Naminé and wore white like Naminé. I can't find her now, and all of a sudden I don't really feel like dancing any more.

"Hey…I'm leaving. You guys staying or coming with me?"

Larxene looks at Axel, who looks at me and says, "We're coming with you."

I don't know why they always check with each other. They probably have something going on behind my back. I probably shouldn't care about it, but…I can't help it. They're my best friends. Axel knows about me and Larx – we don't even kick him out of the room any more. He always leaves anyway, but that's not the point. I don't know why they feel like they have to hide it from me.

And when I think about Larxene with Axel…it makes me strangely angry. Not at Axel, but at Larxene. I think it's because Axel isn't like us. He's the kind of guy who could probably make something of himself, if he really applied all of his god-given intelligence. And maybe it's just because I don't want him to be ruined.

Larxene has a fondness for playing with people like they're toys, and he's not someone I want her to toy with. He's special. That's why I ignore it when I want to touch him, even though I end up biting and scratching at my own skin to get rid of the sensation. At those times, it's not enough to just sleep with someone else. So I'm a freak. That's why I hang out at Area 51.

I know he's a big boy. I know he can take care of himself. That doesn't mean I'm not angry. And I think what makes me the angriest is that I know they'd both be better off without me dragging them down, but I don't like to think about that. It's easier to think of the other part.

I can tell I'm glaring because Larxene says, "Chill out, Rox. If you didn't want us to come, you shouldn't have asked."

"I want you to come home with me," I reply firmly. I know they can't hear the desperation in my voice and that's the way I planned it. How would they react if I'm getting angry just because they have something between them? It would probably be good for both of them. Like nine, like fourteen.

Axel smiles. "Then it's decided."

He throws his arm over my shoulders and Larxene walks by my side. This is how we always walk around. I don't know why; shouldn't Axel be on the other side, holding her hand or something? Well, whatever. As long as he doesn't touch my face or the collar of my shirt, I can deal with it. I'm used to it, even if it still makes me uncomfortable.

I'm driving home because I'm the only one who didn't drink anything. I'm always the designated driver, because I hate being drunk in public (alcohol makes me react differently than anything else), and I hate having sex when I'm even the tiniest bit inebriated. I'm afraid of saying something in the middle. I might blurt out Larx's name (or worse, Axel's), or maybe that they're ugly. It'll all be true, but it's still not a very good idea when you're in the middle of something like that. It could maybe hurt them and then it wouldn't be fun, it would just be emotional. I wouldn't know how to deal with something like that.

Axel doesn't live very far from the club. I have my own place, and so does Larxene, but we stay at Axel's more often than not because he's the one with the king-sized bed and the awful pink armchair none of us can stay awake in. So it doesn't take very long for me to get home. Larx is curled up in the back and Axel's sitting beside me. His eyes are a little glazed, like he's had only one too many.

And he's looking at me.

I don't like it when he looks at me like that. He makes my whole body itch and I need to scratch it away from my skin, so it doesn't become a problem somewhere else. I can't have that kind of problem in front of him and if I don't scratch it away, Axel gives me that kind of problem. All he has to do is look at me in that certain way, and bite the cracking skin off his dry lips like he's doing now. Sometimes I want to get rid of him, because he scares me. I've never killed anyone but Larxene says it's liberating…but I can't. I won't. I could probably get away with it, but I don't want to get away with it.

Sometimes I think I'm a little crazy.

"Take a picture. It'll last longer," I say. Then I turn the keys and take them out of the ignition. It's going to be a bad night, I can tell, but I have Ether in my coat pocket. I was going to throw it away when some girl slipped it to me – I'm not really into that, unless my head gets too full – but it's a good thing I didn't get a chance. I hate bad nights. Ether makes everything numb and silent, and when I'm out of it, the numbers disappear.

I get Larxene from the back and pick her up. She's really light, so carrying her up the stairs isn't that hard; and I don't get uncomfortable carrying her, like I do touching her when she's awake, so I like to do it. Axel walks behind us when we go up the stairs so that if I trip, he can put a hand on my back and keep me from falling. It's never happened, but he always does it anyway.

Larxene gets the bed tonight, because she's wasted. I realize I was lucky to catch her before she went back to the dance floor, because she might have passed out. She looks uncharacteristically innocent, covered to her chin with Axel's fluffy green comforter, and I have to leave the room because it makes me think maybe I should just leave them alone. They could be good for each other. They could be good together. They could probably love each other. And love, even thinking the word love, makes me sick in that strange way.

Axel sits next to me on the couch, and I pull my knees in front of me so he can't get too close. I put my chin on them and look at the floor; I'm afraid to look at him, because he might be looking at me like that again.

Even thinking about it makes me itchy.

"I have to piss," I mutter, and then I stand up and almost run to the bathroom. It's a nice bathroom. I always feel a little bad for what I'm about to do, but I can't help it. It's his fault anyway. It's his fault. So I don't feel guilty when I sit down on the side of his bathtub and find a good vein for the Ether, before getting started on the itch in my skin. At least I'll only bleed in the tub; I can wash it down the drain when I take a shower after this.

Axel

I'm worried about Roxas. That's probably a given, though; I know he's going through some shit right now. I don't know what it is, but lately he refuses to even get buzzed, where before he was always the one Larx and I would worry about. So I know he's hiding something big. Otherwise, he wouldn't be avoiding honesty.

I wish he would talk to me. I wish he'd give me something – anything. I'm a good friend, right? What is it he thinks he can't say? He should know by now I'll never leave him, even if he doesn't know why. That's just the way it is between us.

He's been in there for a long time. Too long. I don't care who you are, nobody pisses for that long. I'm about to get up and make sure he's okay, but then I hear the water running. Today's one of those days, then. I don't know why, but some days he'll just stand in the shower for a long time.

I wish I could see him, sometimes. He has this weird thing where he never takes his clothes off in front of people, even during sex. It's probably just one of his random neuroses, but I want to see what he looks like under his clothes. I know I'll probably never get to see, though. He's a freak. But I love him, so what does that say about me?

I'm not sure how much time has passed now, but I know I don't mind sitting on the couch waiting for Roxas to be finished. I have to see him before I sleep, or I won't be able to sleep for worry anyway.

I don't think he knows, but I didn't drink tonight. I'm always a little paranoid about drinking in public at the same time as Larxene, because what if Roxas gets into something he can't handle? It's never happened. He's strong, and he can take care of himself. He's a big boy. But I still hate feeling like I might not be able to help him.

In the car, I think he thought I was a little out of it. Not drunk, but not sober either. It's not that. I was just watching him. He has this habit of biting the inside of his cheek between two teeth – his canines are a little longer than his other teeth, and he gets a little patch of skin between his right canine and the tooth below it and gnaws on it until it bleeds. He does it when he's upset or nervous. In this weird, inexplicable way, it makes him look vulnerable. His face changes a little; it gets softer somehow.

The moon was shining on his face, and…well, fuck, he looked amazing. He caught me staring, but he didn't seem upset. At least, not about that. A small part of me wants him to keep thinking I'm not all there, because then I can just watch him without drawing suspicion to myself. But mostly I just want him, and now I wish I was buzzed. No, I wish I was completely wasted. I don't want to think about this right now, not when he's standing in my shower, probably freezing again because he doesn't seem to notice when the water goes cold.

The water shuts off and I breathe a sigh of relief. I don't want to think he's passed out under the water, but I do think that sometimes. I guess I'm still morbid about a lot of things.

The door opens and suddenly I can't breathe. He's still damp, and his towel is snug on his hips. He's skinnier than I thought he'd be. His clothes are bunched in his arms, and they're also soaking wet, which is most likely why he's not wearing them. He's shivering.

I want to look away before I do or say something stupid, but I can't help but stare. When he sees me on the couch, he stops short, and his eyes go very wide. "I thought you'd be asleep," he says softly, sounding as if he really wishes I was asleep. He keeps motioning with his arms, like he wants to bring them up to hide his chest, but for some reason he refuses to lift them fully.

"I wanted to make sure you didn't drown like a loser," I reply. I know if I tell him the truth, if he knows I'm worried, he'll be angry. He won't say anything, but it will be obvious anyway.

I don't know why he thinks no one's allowed to love him. I'm not stupid; I know he doesn't just go around breaking hearts for no reason. And I think the reason he doesn't care is because he doesn't even see it.

"Well, you'll be happy to know I'm alive and well," he says with an ugly look on his face. I don't know what his problem is.

"Did I insult you in some way, Roxas? Or do you really think I like condescension?"

That makes him smile, because I used my 'rich man' voice. He finds it amusing, which is the purpose, really. "I'm insulted every time I look at your face. Find me some dry clothes, ugly."

I laugh. He always says the weirdest shit, but it always sounds good because his voice is perfect. As I'm walking into the bedroom, I think I see red lines on his arms and red spots on his clothes, but I know it's a trick of the light because he's not the kind of person who would hurt himself like that.

When I come out with long pants and a sweatshirt, he's already back in the bathroom and I crack the door so I can set the clothes on the sink. Our little moment of relaxed indecency is over, I know. When he comes out of the bathroom, he'll be fully covered again and even though we'll probably talk more about stupid shit, it won't be the same.

Sure enough, he's wearing my huge sweatshirt and drawn into himself like he wants to be a turtle. I hate it when he does that, because it makes him look opposite of what he is. He's not shy, but that's what he looks like when he hides in my clothes. But it's a shower night, so I already knew to expect it.

I like seeing him in my clothes, but I wish he'd stand up straight and elegant like he does when he's in his own.

He doesn't look at me when he sits down. I should be used to it by now, but I'm not.

"Roxas."

"What," he asks quietly. He doesn't seem very interested in whatever I'm about to say, but truthfully, I'm not either. I didn't have anything in mind when I talked to him in the first place; I just wanted to say his name.

"Are you cold?" I made it up on the spot, but it's actually a valid question. It just started snowing; I can see it through the crack in the curtains. It's still July, but Traverse Town doesn't care about the calendar, apparently.

"A little."

"Come here then," I tell him, and hold out my arm. He looks at me for a long moment, and I figure he's going to say no. He doesn't really like physical contact, unless it's sexual. But he surprises me by scooting close and leaning into me. He's stiff as a board, but I like it anyway. This is the most physical contact we've ever had, and I know it's just warmth for Roxas. Call me an idiot; you're probably right. I'm killing myself like this, but I can't let go now. I feel like I was born halfway formed, and Roxas completes the picture when he leans against me.

God, I'm so pathetic.

He finally relaxes and puts his head on my chest, listening to my heart beat, and sighs. I think he's going to stay silent or even fall asleep, but he surprises me again.

"What are you doing here, Axel?"

I blink, and wonder what the hell he's talking about. "What do you mean?"

"I mean…why do you stay here? Why do you stay with me? I'm just a nobody in a somebody world and I'm okay with that. But you…you could take Larx and do something great with your life. You both have so much potential. Why are you wasting it on someone like me?"

His voice is quiet and frank. I know this voice, and suddenly I'm a little angry. Don't get me wrong, I'm not upset at him, directly. But I really wish he'd say what he's thinking when he's not completely fucked up. I wonder when it happened, because he seemed fine earlier.

I shrug and answer, "I like being here with you. Is that such a surprise to you?"

"Yeah." He puts his hand on my stomach and I jump, mostly because I can feel how cold his hands are even through my shirt, but partly because he's never this physical with me. He still stiffens whenever I put my arm around his shoulders, even though I've been doing it since we met.

"Why?"

"Because you and Larx are perfect together. You're perfect and I'm still the one walking in the middle. I can hear your heartbeat and it's perfect. It doesn't skip around like mine. It would sound perfect next to hers. I don't understand why you still care whether or not I'm cold when she's in there looking perfect."

I hate it that even though he's too far gone to remember this in the morning, he seems like he's in control of his speech. It sounds like he knows what he's saying. He's always so controlled. But things like this tell me he's not as in control of his thoughts as he is of his speech and mannerisms.

"I could never be with Larxene like that," I say. I don't add that I could only be like that with him, even though I know he won't remember.

"But aren't you already?"

I laugh. I don't mean to. And I think it hurts him, but I can't help it. "Of course not. What gave you that crazy notion?"

"But you did."

Whatever he's on, it's getting to his brain now, because that doesn't quite make sense. I start to tell him so, but he sits up and puts a finger on my lips. I honestly don't know if I can breathe for very much longer if he keeps coming closer. His finger never leaves my lips but he's close enough to kiss me. I know he won't, but I can't help but hope.

"Shut up," he says. "You're wrong. You should get out while you still can. You both should. And you did, so don't bite your lips because it doesn't make sense."

I could remark that the only thing that doesn't make sense is him, but I don't. I just put my arms around him and pull him close and feel really disappointed when he tucks his head into my neck instead of kissing me. I don't want him to fall asleep because I'm actually worried about his state of mind tonight, but after a while he doesn't seem to be able to keep his eyes open.

I want to fall asleep like this, but I know he'd freak out if he woke up in my arms, so I carry him to my bedroom and put him next to Larxene before I curl up on the couch under a couple of blankets. I don't look back, even though I want to, because I know that seeing him next to her will only hurt.

Because if anyone's perfect, it's them. They're like a wedding ring, and I'm just the little plastic circle you get out of a crackerjack box.

Larxene

I love waking up next to Roxas, and I love it that I'm the only one he ever wakes up with. I make sure not to watch him for too long, because he's a light sleeper, but I can't help it this morning. His eyelashes are long and thick, but they don't hide the tears. I wonder why they're there; he never cries or anything and he doesn't look like he's in pain or sick. Maybe his eyes are just runny.

Suddenly his eyes fly open and he shouts, "Kairi!"

I might be jealous, but that wasn't anything close to pleasure. He sounded panicked, like this 'Kairi' was about to fall off a cliff or something. He blinks and looks around, and when he sees me, he looks away, probably embarrassed to be caught in a nightmare.

"Sorry," he says. "Did I wake you?"

"No, I woke up maybe five minutes before you yelled like a loser. I just didn't want to sit up, but you startled me."

He smiles at that. "Lazy-ass."

I shrug. "Who's Kairi?"

He frowns, like he doesn't know why I asked. Maybe he doesn't remember what he dreamed or the words he woke up with. "I think she's my sister."

I fold my arms and raise an eyebrow, because it actually looks good on me. "Really? You think?"

"Yeah. I haven't seen her in years…sometimes I wonder if she really exists. Why do you ask?"

"You said her name in your sleep." It's close enough to the truth to not be a lie. "I thought maybe she was competition." I bat my eyelashes, just to show I'm not serious.

He rolls his eyes. "Even if she wasn't my sister, the last time I saw her, she was eleven. That's really sick."

"Well I didn't know that," I point out.

He sits still for a minute before saying, "Let's go make Axel cook us breakfast."

For some reason, I feel like I've overstepped some boundary, tripped a wire, and ruined something. It's an irrational fear, and I'm probably wrong, but as I watch his back as he leaves the room, I want to run after him and drag him back to bed and never let go. It makes me sick to see how pathetically attached I am, because I've always hated clingy girls. They really give a bad name to all women.

But I guess I'm just a little girl in some ways. I'm three years younger than Roxas and four years younger than Axel, and sometimes I feel like the metaphorical small fish in a big pond. Actually, I think it's supposed to go the other way – big fish in a small pond – but it describes the same feeling. I'm different and I don't fit.

It's times like these when I really want to go destroy something. I sometimes have these thoughts…I see myself standing in a cloud of electricity, letting down all reservations and getting rid of all the idiots in the world. I know I wouldn't ever do something like that, but that doesn't stop me from wanting to.

I want everyone to know that I'm not just some clingy little girl. I'm pretty but I'm not a Barbie doll. I'm light but I'm not weak. I want everyone to know that Larxene Andersen can and will kick your ass without a second thought.

But you know…I think if I did anything drastic, it would just prove everyone's theory correct. I'd just be a little kid throwing a tantrum. A huge, destructive tantrum, but a tantrum all the same.

So I get up and follow him. By the time I step through the door, Axel is already up, and his hair looks even worse than usual. He looks like he just rubbed his porcupine head with a very sturdy balloon.

"Minion! Fix breakfast for myself and my lady," Roxas jokes, even while putting on an apron. He likes cooking with Axel. I don't know why; I think cooking is really boring. He's so random.

Usually Axel will shoot something back, and we'll all laugh, but he doesn't. He watches Roxas and he looks tired, like his energy is sapped. It's weird; usually, he's very lively. It's almost like… And now it hits me.

He's just like me.

I hate him right now. I hate him. I don't know what he thinks he's doing, standing around and never making a move. Maybe he's biding his time. Hah.

I won't let him take Roxas away from me. I know there's a reason Roxas doesn't touch him, and I won't take a chance and find out it's because he sees Axel like we see him. No.

Roxas glares at Axel and flicks butter at him when he says something I didn't catch, and I turn around and leave the kitchen. Fuck. I can't watch this. Would it still be considered a tantrum, if I pushed him out his own window? I don't know why I feel like I need to. He's not competition. He's not even trying to compete. But that doesn't matter. He could still win, and I can't take that. They'll leave me behind. I'm younger than they are, and they'd probably find out just how much if they bothered to look.

I lock myself in the bathroom and put my hand over my mouth and lean forward, because I feel like I'm going to throw up. But I know it's not that. I know something deep inside of me is waking up and starting to panic.

God. I'm so pathetic.