AN: UUUUUGH I'm so sorry this took months for me to finish. Part of it just wasn't cooperating with me the way that I wanted it to, but ha! Chapter 3 done! I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.
The snark, the whole snark, and nothing but the snark is really a better title for this story.
It's almost 1, I have to be up in like 5 hours, but I really wanted to post it. Hopefully mostly error free.
Love you all, thanks for sticking with me! I should be updating more regularly now. I hope. (Famous last words)
Cheers!
Stripes
.:Track III:.
"Singed"
xxx
As much as he hates to admit it, Roxas dreads this class. Partly because of the grades he's been pulling. Mainly because the grad student teaching it is a huge dick.
He's heard a rumor that Zexion started off as a pre-med student, fell in love, and switched his major to literature. Roxas really isn't sure how accurate this is because Zexion seems cold and calculating and devoid of much human emotion. But he loves his books, and so maybe he's capable of loving something human. Maybe.
One thing is certain: Zexion does not love Roxas' writing. Roxas (as well as much of his class) has never managed to get above a C on any paper he's written this semester. Which, really, is kind of driving Roxas into depression because there's no way he's this bad at analyzing literature. English is his major, and three years of maintaining a spot on the honor roll can't count for absolutely nothing. He's careful not to think the many expletives he wants to throw at Zexion too loudly because when those cool eyes meet his, Roxas swears he can read minds. He wouldn't put it past him.
He's especially dreading getting his most recent assignment back, considering it was supposed to be a personal piece. Roxas is half way convinced that Zexion will use his newly acquired information to break each of his students into microscopic pieces that even the most highly regarded therapist couldn't reassemble.
Maybe he's too pessimistic. Maybe this time-
"You're remarkably good at maintaining mediocre marks." A pale hand slides the sheets of paper across Roxas' desk.
"Nice alliteration," he mumbles, shoving yet another C paper into his bag before he can angst over it further.
"Not particularly," Zexion steps away, continuing to hand back broken dreams. Roxas catches himself glaring and instead focuses very intently on the chipped corner of his desk.
He hears his neighbor's head hit his desk, a low groan muffled against the wood as their sadistic grad student tucks a strand of slate blue hair behind his ear and leans against his desk at the front of the room. Another life ruined. All in a day's work for Zexion.
"Since not many of you grasped the concept of this assignment, I'm going to give you another month to rework it."
Roxas' eyes snap up at that.
"That being said, this paper is going to count for a third of your overall grade. Perhaps with this extension, a few of you may be able to turn in something that isn't complete garbage."
Ah, there it is.
"Thursday the 28th, I expect something tolerable. Remember, this is a personal piece. It's about you. Make me interested in you," he checks his watch with a small sigh, "because right now you're all boring me to death. See you Tuesday."
The general consensus at the end of Zexion's class is to run as fast and far as possible so he will never see you cry. Not that Roxas has ever actually cried because of Zexion being a total asshole or ruining his chances of graduating with honors. No, definitely not.
When he stands, Zexion is staring at him and he feels himself pale. Stupid autonomic reflexes.
"Roxas, may I speak with you? It's about your paper."
Well, shit. "I'll rework it."
"Yours, surprisingly, wasn't horrible," Zexion settles back against the desk and straightens the lapels of his blazer. Stupid fucking hipster in his stupid skinny jeans and blazer and t-shirt that is so unironic in its irony that it becomes ironic. "You have a talent for writing, but I think that you need to narrow your idea to something a bit more significant."
This is definitely uncomfortable. Mostly because Roxas was under the impression that his twin having a nearly fatal asthma attack in the third grade was significant. "That incident kind of had a major impact on…" On what? How overly protective he is of his brother? How much he shoves down how afraid he is of everything he can't control? How much he acted out as a teenager? All the sarcasm and pessimism? "…on me and how I just am. I guess."
"Instead of guessing, why don't you pick something you know."
"But I do-"
"That happened to your brother, and yes it may have affected you in some way, but I'm not interested in that. I'm interested in something that happened to you."
He very much wants to strangle Zexion right now. So much so, in fact, that he can feel his nails digging into the palms of his hands. "I'm not sure I have anything on that level…"
"Then that is your challenge. Go create an experience," he stands, picking up his satchel and slinging it over his shoulder.
"With all due respect, I don't think that's how life works."
"Roxas," Zexion meets his eyes evenly, "you have the cynicism of someone who has worked retail, but aside from a few unpleasant encounters in life, hasn't dealt with any serious shit, as it were. My humble suggestion is to either get yourself laid and start fresh with renewed optimism, or become celibate and understand what true frustration and longing is."
He has no words. All of the blood in his body has rushed to his face and has obviously rendered him incapable of speech because he can't stop staring and opening and closing his mouth like a fish. Zexion ignores Roxas' attempts to communicate his abject horror and walks to the door of the room.
"But you only gave us a month."
Zexion pauses, glancing over his shoulder at the blond. "Then I suggest you get started."
xxx
Roxas sometimes wishes he could shoot lasers out of his eyes. Granted, he would definitely be classified as a super-villain if he could because it would really be too tempting to obliterate anyone who pissed him off. Even without lasers, he hopes Riku can feel his eyes attempting to burn a hole in the back of his head. He's sure he could find a reason why all of this was Riku's fault. The line, Zexion, the red haired jackass with gorgeous eyes. The asshole also didn't let him cut in line.
When he finally gets to counter to place his order (venti ice coffee, no room, no sweetener, splash of soy), his irritation with everything and everyone has reached something of a critical mass. So, of course, Riku has to be standing next to him as he waits for his drink.
"You have a break?"
"Obviously."
Riku lets out a little huff, ripping at the paper covering his straw. "Sora and I are getting lunch in half an hour. If you want to join us."
"Sora has class all afternoon."
"He's skipping bio."
If Riku's reaction is any indication, Roxas' eyes are probably red and he's glowing like some leveled up video game character. "That's his worst subject. It's probably the only class he really needs to go to."
"Well, he's not going today."
Roxas' eyes narrow at Riku as he picks up a straw from the condiment bar. "This is your doing, isn't it?"
"Jesus, Roxas. I'm tutoring him," Riku rubs the bridge of his nose, jaw clenched.
"Sora didn't tell me that."
"It's not like you tell him everything."
"Riku, venti zen tea lemonade!"
Riku steps forward, taking his drink from the counter and regarding Roxas coolly. "Did you want to eat with us or not?"
"I'll pass. I don't want to interfere with you ogling my brother," he tilts his head to the side, enjoying Riku looking so damn embarrassed.
"That's not-"
"Don't bullshit me, Riku." Roxas grabs his drink as soon as his name is called, hissing in the other's ear as he makes his way to the door, "And if you touch my brother I will break you."
Riku's hand closes around Roxas' wrist as soon as he makes it out the door. Wrenching himself free, Roxas swats the hand away, taking a step closer to Riku. "Just because Sora hasn't figured it out yet doesn't mean that I haven't."
"Sora can have exactly what he wants. He wants a loyal friend-"
"Yeah, not someone who's trying to constantly get into his pants!"
"-And I'm always there for him. And I always will be."
Riku looks too damn smug for his own good, which really just lights Roxas' short fuse. "You're not good enough for my brother."
"Yeah, and neither are you."
Roxas opens his mouth to say something. Or shout something. Or to simply have it open as he pounds Riku's face into the concrete, except a hand clamps over his mouth before he's able to get any closer to the other. The anger bubbling behind Riku's eyes is extinguished almost immediately as Roxas is pulled against another body, hand still firmly in place over his mouth and another catching him across the chest.
"Hey Kairi."
"Roxas, we all know how fond of Riku you are, but you really shouldn't go around yelling about it in the middle of the food court," he feels more than hears Kairi laugh against his back. "You boys having a nice chat?"
"Of course," Riku's smile is a little strained, but it's there. "Roxas and I always have nice things to talk about."
"Glad to hear it," Kairi's grip on Roxas doesn't let up, and he's starting to feel claustrophobic and is definitely not getting enough oxygen right now. "Well, I need to borrow him to proof read one of my papers, so you guys can finish this up later, okay?"
"No problem. I have to meet Sora anyway," Riku smirks at Roxas, stabbing his straw into the lid with a bit too much force. "Have fun, you two."
Kairi doesn't let go until Riku is a good 50 feet away.
"You know, there are more effective ways of getting someone to shut up," Roxas rubs the back of his hand over his mouth.
"Yeah, not with you. Sheesh, it's crazy how much sexual tension there is between the two of you." When Roxas stares incredulously, the redhead rolls her eyes. "That was a joke. You, my friend, need to learn to take a joke."
"It wasn't very funny," he straightens his hoodie before shoving his hands in the pockets.
"Actually, it was," Kairi stops in front of Roxas, narrowing her eyes slightly. "Something's bothering you."
"Yeah. Riku."
"No…no, no, it's something else." She cranes her neck, carefully scrutinizing his face.
"Class was awful, it's seriously not a big thing."
Her face splits in a grin, a manicured nail nearly stabbing him in the nose. "You're still butthurt that Axel doesn't know you exist!"
"I am not butthurt, Kairi!" Roxas catches himself raising his voice and pointedly ignores the stares he's attracting. He quickly grabs Kairi's arm, tugging her after him. "How do you even know about-"
"About Axel or about how the two of you were hooking up in a closet?"
Roxas stops, spinning to face his grinning friend. "We weren't…" his words die away as Kairi holds up her phone, an image proudly displaying on the screen. He sees blond and red and dark and lips and oh God, there is no way he looked that desperate.
Perhaps 'friend' is too strong a word. He thinks that 'arch nemesis' or 'life ruiner' might be a bit more accurate at this point.
Her smile only grows, pulling her phone away from Roxas' hands ready to destroy the small device. "You were saying?"
"Kairi, where did you get that?"
"A girl has her ways," Kairi pockets the phone, crossing her arms over her chest. "You lucky bastard."
Roxas knows he's blushing, fingers itching to grab Kairi's phone. "What, because I kissed some guy in a closet? I'm gay, Kairi. I worked for years to come out of the closet, not to get dragged back in by a guy at a party."
"I'd say under these circumstances, you should be happier about going back in there for ten minutes," she loops his arm with hers, walking them toward a cluster of tables. "Especially given who he is."
This gives Roxas pause as he pulls his chair out. "I'm not sure I follow." But now he's thinking about it, and he was under the impression that even those in his circle who had heard about his lapse in judgment didn't know who it was. Even Hayner, who had actually met Axel didn't know his name, probably. But he's probably over thinking everything with regards to Kairi because she has become his nemesis. "What do you mean 'who he is'?"
"Really?" Kairi tilts her head to the side, the corner of her mouth quirking with some hidden feminine secret. "The mysterious, devilishly handsome redhead who lurks the campus? Who is a horrific flirt, but never dates? Or is it that he dates, but never flirts. Either way, he's an enigma," she waggles her eyebrows at Roxas before rolling her eyes. "Plus, if you didn't notice, he's kinda hot."
"Oh, because that makes me feel infinitely better about this whole thing, Kairi," Roxas ducks his head to rummage through his laptop bag, pointedly trying to cover his blush because this keeps getting fucking worse and his autonomic reflexes are pissing him off today.
"I didn't even know he liked guys."
Roxas stares at the pen he managed to fish out of his bag. "Fantastic."
"Oh," Kairi slides her chair closer to Roxas'. "Oh, no. No, I was just saying that I wasn't sure. I've never even met him. I just have a few friends who…" She's just sort of staring at Roxas who is clearly fascinated by the green pen in his hand. "I'm not helping."
"Do you have your paper?"
"Rox, I could be totally wrong, I swear. Forget I said anything," she's looking at him, a small crease between her eyebrows.
"No, it's fine. It was just…random. And I was drunk. Like, insanely drunk." Roxas manages a small smile, trying harder to convince himself than Kairi with his lies. Because, really, it shouldn't matter. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter that Axel kissed him first or that he said he was cute. It's not important that for the first time in years he's felt wanted, even if it was in a drunken haze, even if it was fast and sloppy in a closet. No, definitely not.
Kairi winces at the hash green slashes that start to litter her paper under Roxas' pen.
xxx
Why did he come back? Really, he must have a severe case of masochism because this is absolute torture.
Axel is sitting at the bar and openly watching him, likely because Hayner is a total dumbshit and had to pull that stunt the other night. So Roxas opts to legitimately focus on his homework, scribbling notes in the margins of his notebook and double checking everything for the lab he should have written up a week ago. It takes him a few minutes to realize that someone is standing over him.
"Can I help you?" he doesn't even bother looking up because he knows it's him.
"Did you seriously come to a bar to do," Axel pauses, lifting the cover of the text book on the table, "chemistry? Really?"
"This is technically a lounge."
"And how does that make it any better?" he pulls up a chair at the table, propping his chin on the backs of his hands, elbows resting on the tabletop.
"It's peaceful."
"Blondie, you are so full of shit it's coming out your ears." Roxas knows Axel is smiling and so he is doing everything in his power to not look at him.
Which fails.
He looks up from his notebook. "Again, can I help you?"
Axel doesn't miss a beat, lips forming an almost delicate smirk. "How the hell did you get in here?"
"Excuse me?"
"You look like you just hit puberty, short stuff," the smile doesn't fade.
Roxas stares at him for a moment before turning back to his homework. "You know, just because you are of an abnormally large stature does not mean that I'm in middle school," blue eyes dart up to meet green. "I'm 22."
"Really?"
Axel could at least have the decency to not sound so damn surprised. "It's a number you're probably not familiar with since it involves two digits."
"I've actually managed to learn one a year since my birth," he props his chin in the palm of his hand. "I can count all the way to 26 now."
"My, what a clever boy you are. Your parents must be thrilled."
"You know, I didn't mean to offend you or whatever. Just sayin'."
Roxas knows Axel is watching him as he scribbles complete gibberish in his notebook. "Don't flatter yourself." Good, scare him off. Because obviously throwing himself at the redhead wasn't at all memorable.
"That equation is wrong, by the way."
He closes his notebook, hand slamming against the cover. "I'm trying to study, if you don't mind."
"And I'm just trying to help," Axel reaches forward, gently lifting the cover of the notebook regardless of how hard Roxas is glaring at him. As he rifles through pages of notes, Roxas is finally able to make out the tattoo running down the inside of his right forearm. They're symbols he recognizes from old star charts he saw in astronomy, one for each of the planets delicately inked in a perfect line over his pale skin. Even Pluto is there just below the crook of his elbow, which makes his frown a little less severe. "See, right here, you have one more hydrogen on this side."
"Oh," Roxas pulls his eyes away from Axel's tattoo and back to his notebook, "right. Well, thanks." He quickly re-balances the equation, noticing that Axel has yet to move and is still just watching him. "You're still here."
"Should I not be?"
"Aren't you in a band that should be entertaining the masses?" Roxas glances up when Axel lets out a small laugh.
"Not tonight. Larx had a date, so it's just me, drowning my sorrows in cheap booze," his lips quirked upward, resting his chin heavily in his palm with a dramatic sigh. "The woes of being an artist."
Roxas' pencil stops for a fraction of a second against his notebook. "Ah, so you're an artist."
Axel reaches toward Roxas' mostly drained glass, scrutinizing its contents. "Probably not, but I think that's the most appropriate thing to call yourself when no one appreciates your work. Then you can be starving, too, and it makes you sort of edgy." When Roxas looks up, Axel is positively grinning at him, "As tiny as that is, that's a smile. Look at you, you are human after all. I was starting to get worried."
"And why is that?" He's trying very hard to stop the little smile he knows is trying to quirk his lips further.
"You weren't laughing at any of my jokes, and I happen to have it on good authority that I'm hilarious."
"Do you."
"I do."
"That wasn't a question," Roxas returns his eyes to his work because that smile is really almost too much.
"I took the liberty to answer it anyway." Axel sets the glass back down, drumming his fingers on the table, "So what's your story?"
"I don't have one." He keeps his eyes down, not comprehending anything he's writing.
"That can't be true. So, what, you're 22, I'm guessing you're in your last year. Definitely not a science major because that is homework for a lower level chemistry class. Unless you switched recently," Roxas glances up, and Axel makes a face when he does, "nah, that's not it. Humanities probably. Maybe psych. I would say education, but…kids, y'know?"
Roxas shakes his head, a hint of indignation in his voice. "I might be great with kids."
"And I might be Freddie Mercury, but we wouldn't be talking here, now would we?"
"I would be in awe if you were." He knows Axel is watching him, that goofy, cocky smirk a permanent fixture on his lips, and he can feel himself start to flush. Which he hates himself for and wills away immediately. "My brother is great with kids."
"Older or younger brother?"
"Twin."
"Is he as talkative as you are?"
Axel's smile makes Roxas' chest ache for a fraction of a second and he regrets looking up. "Just a little more. If you can imagine such a thing. He wants to teach little kids how to finger paint and make good choices about vegetables."
"A noble career path." The redhead rests his cheek against his knuckles, "But you're dodging the question. I asked about you."
Roxas rests his pencil against the page in front of him, "You know, it's rude to ask for personal information without even introducing yourself to a person."
Axel chuckles in his throat, extending a hand out to the blond. "The name's Axel."
He takes the hand with a small smile, "Roxas."
"Roxas," Axel repeats to himself, "I'll remember that. A pleasure to meet you. Officially."
The air feels much cooler against the palm of his hand once Axel takes his back, and Roxas quickly picks up his pencil again before he can think too hard about what that means.
"Hey, Ax!"
They both look up at the blond crossing the room, grin spread painfully big across his face. "Dem, hey," Axel gestures him over, nodding his chin at Roxas, "this is Roxas."
"Hi, nice to meet you. I'm Demyx," he beams before turning back to the redhead. "I've been looking for you everywhere. Dude, I got tickets."
"Shut the fuck up, you did not."
"I did," Demyx holds out a pair of tickets, and Roxas couldn't try to read the name on them if he wanted to with the way that the other is flinging them about in excitement. "It took six hours, but we got 'em!"
"And to think I doubted you," Axel grabs the tickets out of Demyx's hand, holding them up to the light. "When does it start?"
"Starts at nine," he takes his ticket back, tucking it into his pocket, "should get going."
Axel turns to Roxas, who manages a bored smile. "Well, it was lovely making your acquaintance, Roxas."
He nods, "And yours."
Standing up, the redhead gives a little salute to Roxas, "We'll continue this later, Blondie."
"Will we?"
"Of course, you'll be here tomorrow night," he laughs, slinging an arm over Demyx's shoulders.
Roxas feels a laugh starting at the back of his throat. "How are you so sure?"
Axel's eyes are too damn green to be real, face split in a shit-eating grin. "Because I'm irresistible."
And then he's gone, just like that. And just like that, Roxas let's that little spark of hope extinguish itself because it's too easy for people to walk away from him, isn't it? Granted, he doesn't even know the guy. They just made out and talked a little, big deal. He's starting to wonder if the whole making out bit even happened and he's just deluded himself into thinking it did.
But the talking was…nice. Sort of. Axel is kind of an arrogant ass, but he is nice. Sort of. Roxas frowns to himself, flipping through several songs on his iPod and wondering at exactly what point in his little internal monologue he'd started walking home. He's being stupid, he knows he is. Didn't he start this little stalking endeavor to get Axel's attention? And now that he's got it he's floundering because, as much as he'd wanted it, he never expected to get it. He's too pessimistic to attract someone so bright. Little dusty moth drawn straight into the flames. It doesn't work the other way around. He's not like Sora.
He feels that familiar cold ache spreading through his chest with the first few seconds of the song assaulting his ears, and quickly fumbles for his iPod. That song should have been deleted years ago. Roxas looks down at the small screen, the words Me vs Maradona vs Elvis scrolling in an endless pixilated loop, thumb hovering to skip. And it should be an easy thing to tap the screen, to get the slow, beautiful chords to stop echoing in his head, but it's not. It's a reminder of him and that Roxas wasn't, isn't, good enough and will never be. So how could Roxas have anything with him or anyone, let alone Axel. And this thing with Axel isn't even a thing. He's out of reach, gorgeous smile taunting him.
But Axel had smiled at Roxas. That tiny thought spurs him to change the song, the heavy weight in his chest lifting slightly at some punk song from the days of yore. Pulling his hoodie tighter around himself, he shoves his hands in his pockets, fingers feeling numb against the mp3 player. Maybe he should get a thicker jacket. Or maybe he should stop thinking entirely.
His apartment is nestled at the back of campus housing, likely to keep the drunken upperclassmen as far away from civilization as possible. Roxas had been perfectly content to remain in the dorms closer to the majority of campus, but Sora insisted that he needed a kitchen. The unfortunate side effect of a kitchen is the steady influx of friends wanting to come over for dinner. Namely Riku. Even though, as Roxas likes to point out at any given opportunity, Riku lives across the hall and has his own damn kitchen.
Roxas unlocks his door, throwing himself against it unceremoniously as he walks in. "Sora, did you eat already?" he calls into the apartment, detangling himself from his laptop bag.
"Sorta," Sora replies softly, half whisper-shouting.
Roxas looks up from kicking off his shoes, frown tugging at his face. Sora smiles at him from his spot at the corner of the couch, Riku sprawled out, asleep, head resting in Sora's lap. The blond resists the urge to yell and instead speaks just slightly louder than is necessary, "What do you mean 'sorta'? Did you guys make dinner?"
"We made cookies," his twin beams, gesturing to a plate of a half dozen cookies on the coffee table. Roxas catches the way Sora's hand falls to Riku's hair, delicately taking up a half-finished braid.
"You mean we tried to make cookies," Riku slurs against Sora's thigh, eyes cracking a fraction to shoot a sleepy glare at Roxas. "Sora kept eating the dough."
The brunet pulls at the long strands of hair in his hand, earning himself a growl from Riku, "We succeeded in making some cookies. You know better than to trust me with dough."
"Yeah, well you're turning awfully doughy yourself," Riku shifts on the couch, reaching out and poking at Sora's stomach. "You should go work for Pillsbury. You'd make a good spokesperson."
"You're so much nicer when you're sleeping!" Sora yelps.
Roxas watches as his brother descends into a fit of giggles, Riku's thin fingers dancing over his stomach, tickling anything they can reach. And he's never resented Sora for being charming and adorable, but he's jealous of the look of absolute reverence Riku is giving him. Not that he's getting that look from Riku, because oh God ew Riku, but that someone is that in love with him. Riku has always loved, been in love, with Sora and he wonders what's wrong with him that he's never seen that level of devotion. They're twins for fuck's sake. So what if Sora is sweet and kind and patient. So what if Roxas is abrasive and stoic and has the worst case of post-teen angst the world has ever seen.
Okay, so that probably does make a difference.
Clearing his throat, Roxas pads into the kitchen, pointedly keeping his eyes away from the display on the couch. He huffs a little, going through the contents of the refrigerator and thinking that this is all obviously Axel's fault. He used to be able to fume in silence, content in his discontent to be forever alone. Then Axel had to show up and shove his tongue down his throat and, even worse, go out of his way and be nice to Roxas. Then again, Hayner took him to the party in the first place. Hayner was also an obnoxious asshole and got Axel's attention. Wingman, indeed.
Sora slides into Roxas' space bubble, grimacing at him in the best way he can. "You're doing it."
"Am not." The blond grabs a bag of hot dogs from the fridge before thinking better of it and throwing them back in.
Shutting the refrigerator door, Sora grabs Roxas' cheeks, "You are. You're grumpy cat-ing." He pushes up the corners of his twin's mouth, snorting at the apparently ridiculous face he's created.
"It's called a 'bitch face', Sora," Riku smirks and takes a step into the kitchen. When Roxas starts to retaliate, Riku shoves a cookie into his mouth.
Sora looks thoughtful for a moment, taking the cookie Riku hands him and nibbling on it. "Do I have a bitch face?"
"Not all the time." Riku ruffles Sora's hair before pushing past Roxas to rummage through the fridge. "So what are we eating?"
"I can make spaghetti or something, I dunno. You're on your own for calling me fat," the brunet nudges Riku out of the way, sharing a grin with Roxas.
"But Sora, your spaghetti is so delicious," Roxas hears Riku's voice take on that pouty tone he knows Sora can't resist and he decides he doesn't need to watch this. And thinks that Riku is probably doing this on purpose. Riku has Sora trapped between himself and the counter, arms ready to encircle the smaller boy, when Roxas walks back into the living room. "Please please please let me have some!"
"You called me fat, you ass!"
"If anything I said you were squishy!"
A spastic laugh erupts from the kitchen as Roxas plops firmly on the couch, eyes focusing on the far wall and trying to block out the banter behind him.
"Pleeeeease?"
"Fine!" he can hear Sora laughing as he reaches for one of his books stacked at the edge of the couch, flipping pages to find his bookmark. "But get out. You're a road hazard!"
Riku materializes in Roxas' peripheral vision, lowering himself gracefully onto the far corner of the couch. He knows he's watching him, elbow propped up on the armrest, bright eyes bored and scrutinizing. "What are you reading?"
"Words."
He hears a dull thunk as Riku's head rolls back against the wall. "Alright then, Hamlet. I'm just trying to make conversation, sue me."
"You don't have to try. We both know we're entirely uninterested with each other," Roxas turns the page, ignoring the fact that he hasn't actually read a damn thing since he opened his book.
"I hear a distinct lack of happy-male-bonding-time coming from my living room!" Sora's voice rings like a bell through the awkward silence.
As much as Roxas currently is all out of the few shits he has to spare on Riku, he can't help but humor his brother. A little. He flashes the book cover at Riku with a little shrug, "Anna Karenina."
"My, you must be in a happy mood then," Riku shifts on the couch, resting a foot on the coffee table. "Good thing we don't live near any trains."
All out of shits. "You would definitely be in danger. I can get a little pushy around trains."
"Jesus, Rox, what crawled up your butt and died?"
"Must be you, seeing as you have your head so far up Sora's ass. One of those freaky twin things, I guess."
Roxas allows the smallest grin to grace his lips as Riku's hair emphasizes the flush on his face. He opens his mouth to say something, and Roxas wants him to flip out. He wants Sora to see that his precious Riku isn't perfect, that he has a temper despite his cool and collected exterior. And he almost hates himself for it.
"Aggression!" Sora appears on the other side of the coffee table, arms crossed over his chest, tomato sauce covered spoon in one hand. Roxas is glad that he isn't the only one who shrinks back against the couch. "Did I hear an unnaturally large amount of animosity from this couch? Because bitchy boys don't get spaghetti." With a flourish, Sora brandishes the spoon, pointing it between the two boys on the couch. "Am I understood?"
"Yeah."
"Yes, Sora."
"Good," he smiles and shuffles back into the kitchen, demeanor instantly bright again. Roxas fears for his future students.
Riku seems to be thinking the same thing as he relaxes against the cushions. "He's going to be one of those teachers."
"The kind that dresses up to teach lessons and then turns around and duct tapes kids to the wall if they act out? Yeah, definitely." He runs his thumb along the spine of his book. He's really starting to hate all of these silences where he doesn't have anything to occupy his mind. His nail snags on the edge of the worn cover, feeling something in him drop like a stone.
"Is it that guy?"
It takes Roxas a moment to realize Riku is talking to him. It takes another for him to realize he's talking about Axel. "It's nothing."
"Uh huh. Clearly." Riku's eyes are on him, and he very much wishes that he would stop being so observant and just ignore Roxas like he usually does. "What's he like?"
"Like you even care."
"Try me."
"Male."
"Don't be a shit."
Roxas takes a deep breath and closes his book for what feels like the hundredth time. "Out of my league. Gorgeous rock god, you know the type."
Riku snorts, running a hand through his hair. "Well, okay then. What's his name?"
"No."
"What, why not?"
He sighs again, regretting this entire conversation to begin with. "Axel." Roxas feels his face heat up at the name, the two little syllables that, he's realizing, he's never actually said out loud.
"…Are you fucking kidding me?" Riku's eyebrows knit together and his mouth is just a little more open than it should be. Roxas would probably laugh if he wasn't getting progressively more frustrated by the second.
"Do you know him? Am I missing something?"
"No. Not at all."
"Then why are y-"
"Why don't you just go for it?" he brushes a few bright strands of hair from his eyes, turning his head to watch Sora in the kitchen.
"I really don't think I should be taking dating advice from you," the blond crosses his arms over his chest. Great, even his fucked-up-lack-of love life is too boring for Riku.
"Why not?"
"We're in the same boat," Roxas watches as Sora walks back into the living room, blowing on some tomato sauce in a spoon. His brother places a knee on the couch next to Riku, giving the sauce a final puff of air before holding it out for the other to try it. He sees the grin spread across Sora's face when Riku nods his head enthusiastically, giving himself a little victory whoop and rushing back into the kitchen.
Turning his head slowly to Roxas, Riku lets a lazy smile appear on his lips with a shrug. "I've got spaghetti. What do you have?"
What he hates most is when Riku is right.
xxx
