For Roxas, driving to school with Axel the next morning was far less awkward and tense than it had been the day before. Maybe it had something to do with their exchange of deeply personal information the night before, maybe it had something to do with the fact that he had woken up in Axel's bed that morning (and no, not the bed that Axel slept in. A bed that belonged to Axel).

The commute to the school seemed shorter than it had the previous day. Roxas felt much more comfortable in the nice, expensive car that he knew had been legitimately attained (as opposed to stolen). He had time to appreciate the nice interior, with its leather bucket seats and advanced sound system. It was…nice.

He wasn't sure why he expected class to be any different by the time their first period with Axel rolled around (because they were advanced they were given three periods a day with him) but he did. And, low and behold, almost everything was exactly the same. Almost.

They walked into the classroom, the last of them filing in, to see four huge white sheets covering each of the walls. As soon as all eleven of them had taken their seats, Axel closed the door and began speaking.

"Jackson Pollock! You all should know him, having been my pupils for a full eight months by now. He was one of the greatest artists ever to live. Why is that, Naminé?"

The blonde girl looked up, startled. "Um…because he…uh…"

"Incorrect. Sora?" Axel was blowing through the lesson. Roxas could already tell. They had a project in front of them, and he was excited.

"Because his art is amazing and changed the country forever." The brunette blurted out, spilling an answer before Axel could call him wrong and call on someone else.

"Closer. Olette?"

She didn't even look up from her phone. Roxas wondered why she was in the class in the first place; all she ever did was text. "I'm going to be wrong. Call on someone else."

Axel made his way through the entire class; Pence, Hayner, Zexion, Demyx, Larxene, Xemnas, and Vexen. It was, in Roxas's eyes, incredibly pathetic.

After what seemed like an eternity of wrong and just plain embarrassing answers, Axel finally called of Roxas. The blonde had the feeling that his teacher had been avoiding this, considering that he was called on last, but he was almost positive it was because Axel knew his answer would be right (he derived some sort of pleasure out of telling the students they were incorrect).

"Roxas, who was Jackson Pollock?"

"He was a painter of some era that I don't know, and he's important because his paintings not only convey the general 'I don't give a shit.' feeling, but they also illustrate his emotions during the times he painted, giving the viewer a look into his personal life. In a sense." He smirked, even though by now the class was used to his painfully correct answers.

"Very good. Now, today, I have a project for you all." It was scary, how everyone's heads snapped up at the word 'project.' "As you can see, the walls are covered in white sheets. Jackson Pollock was a man who didn't really care where his art went, and today, neither to we. I will split you up into two groups of five, and you will each coordinate colors after my example to create your own art. Understand?"

Enthusiastic nods.

"Good. Well then. Let's have Olette, Vexen, Demyx, Zexion, and Sora. Then, obviously, Hayner, Pence, Larxene, Xemnas, and Naminé." Each of the students moved to their respective sides of the classroom, breaking up into their groups, leaving Roxas sitting in the middle. Alone. Vulnerable.

"Roxas!" Axel called, a little to excited for the blonde's comfort. "Come up here."

"Um…" He gulped loudly. "May I ask why?"

"Of course you can. You, my dear, are going to be my human canvas. The example for the rest of the class to follow while painting. Now come. I'm excited." He motioned with his hands for Roxas to come forward, and Roxas did.

However, not before glancing down at what he was wearing: he was feeling lazy this morning, so he threw on a white tank-top. No sleeves. It was warm out, so he decided to wear his khaki cargo shorts with his black flip flops. The outfit itself looked really nice, matching and everything. And now it was going to turn into a canvas. Along with Roxas himself.

When he got up there, Axel touched his arm lightly. "Don't worry." He whispered. "I plan on using acrylics, and I don't mind if any paint decorates my showers. It won't be too scarring; I promise." He smiled softly and walked over to his desk, leaving Roxas to stand in front of the white sheets and wait.

He heard Axel squeezing the paint into a tin, heard the water mix with it, and heard the brush hungrily lapping up the liquid. He was incredibly tense, and only when he glanced down at himself did he realize that his shoulders were about in line with his jaw.

"Roxas, close your eyes. Don't open them until I give you the okay."

"Alright."

"Ready? One, two, three--"

--

It killed Roxas that Axel could care less about the fact that he was getting red, purple, grey, black, white, and green acrylic paints all over the nice leather of his car seats. In fact, he even asked Axel several times if he wanted to borrow a towel from the swim team to put down; the teacher had declined every time.

"Relax, Roxas. I can always wash the seats off later. Right now, my main concern is getting all of the paint out of your hair before the pretty blonde turns into some sort of nasty purple concoction." He had his messenger bad slung over his shoulder and was climbing into the car, turning on the ignition without waiting for Roxas to respond.

Slowly, he climbed in the car. Now only half afraid that he was going to hurt the leather, and half focusing on the fact that Axel had said that he had 'pretty blonde' hair. He knew that was a compliment, and he found that he…enjoyed it. The praise, if nothing else. He blamed his slow reactions on the saint on his right shoulder arguing with the demon on his left about whether or not he should enjoy Axel's praise.

The ride home was quiet, like it was yesterday. However, now the blonde was sure that there was none of the awkward tension between them. He finally understood the reason that Axel had chosen this form of "punishment" instead of something else; he wanted to get to know Roxas better. Right? That was what he was looking for, wasn't it? Or was that Roxas's mind, short-circuiting after going a million miles an hour, was making him believe that that was what Axel had been going after? What if it was just an attempt to make Roxas miserable? Or to relieve some of the stress from Axel's everyday?

"Roxas." The sound of Axel's voice and they sped up the driveway snapped him out of his reverie.

"Yes?"

"You're mumbling."

"I am?"

"You were."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

More silence. What kind of conversation was that? Was it even a conversation, or just an exchange? What did it mean? Did it mean that Axel had only spoken to him out of necessity, to get him to shut up? Or did it mean that Axel was so taken by the fact that Roxas was talking to himself that he listened in amusement for a little while before alerting the blonde? What if their brief words just meant that Roxas was mumbling, and Axed had told him?

It took Roxas a few minutes to wrap his mind around the fact that Axel actually lived in the huge residence in front of him (because it couldn't be described as a home). He stood outside, gaping, and Axel stood at his side as he had the day before. Was he standing closer? Roxas couldn't tell. But then again, there would be plenty of time to figure that out later. While he wasn't busy taking in the enormity of his temporary residence.

"Come on, Roxy. You need a shower." Axel tugged on his elbow gently, walking inside. He didn't drag Roxas with him again, just assumed he was being followed. And he was.

"Do I really smell that bad?"

An airy laugh. Roxas liked the way Axel's laugh sounded. No you don't. He told himself. You don't like the sound of Axel's laugh, because next thing you know you're going to like the way he looks at you, or the way he tucks you in at night, or the way he moans when you--

"--just look kind of funny with all of that paint splattered over you. You don't have to if you don't want to." They were inside. When did that happen? Axel dropped his bag against the wall, and Roxas followed suit (for some strange reason he had no homework tonight) and began up the winding staircase to his bathroom and bedroom.

"Will dinner be ready by the time I'm back?"

"Probably not. But it should be about thirty minutes after you get out. Is that okay?"

"Yeah. That's fine. Thanks."

--

The shower helped him calm down; helped him put things in perspective. Roxas could almost feel the muscles in his back unwinding, and enjoyed watching as the various colors of paint washed off of his body and down the drain. Because his shirt had been so thin, he had paint on almost every inch of his body, not including the areas that his shorts had covered.

The class had had great fun watching Axel paint Roxas, and Olette had yelled something out about how what Axel was doing was a twisted form of body paints. Most of it, however, had included Roxas focusing on how cold the water and paint was that Axel was using, and how even though the redhead had been whipping paint at him, it hadn't hurt. Was that on purpose, or not?

He climbed out of the shower a half an hour later, fingers wrinkled and hair dripping. He dried off in his bedroom and jumped into his pajamas, despite the fact that it was only about five o'clock (they left the school at about four).

He stepped into the hallway and walked down the staircase to be greeted by the tantalizing scent of well-cooked steak. It was amazing. Roxas couldn't remember the last time he had steak, but he knew that it had been too long. And if last night was any testament to how well Axel cooked, tonight would not disappoint.

--

"Did you enjoy class today?"

"I'm sure everyone else had more fun than I did."

"I'm sorry."

Roxas let his fork fall against his plate, surprised by Axel's words. He was…sorry? For what? Making him be his human canvas? Throwing the paint at him? Sure, Roxas hadn't been the happiest camper about being forced to allow his teacher to paint on him, but he hadn't been upset. So why was he apologizing?

"You don't have to do that." He muttered, finishing off the last bites of his steak and leaning back, sighing contentedly. "It wasn't like the end of the world."

Axel was eating about two light-years slower than Roxas, as he had the night before. However, there were no seconds tonight. He was nodding, and set his silverware down after the bite he had just taken.

"Still. I…feel like I took advantage of the deal. And I'm sorry." He smiled softly, then continued eating.

"Well, in that case, your apology is accepted." Roxas answered, smiling back even though Axel couldn't see him. For a reason that he was sure he could put a name to eventually, it made him happy that Axel didn't want to take advantage of him.

--

Apparently, at some point, Axel had changed the sheets on his bed. Not that he minded; one of Roxas's favorite feelings was curling up in new, warm, crisp sheets and falling asleep against the fresh-scented pillowcases.

The new set was blue, and it matched the color of his eyes. He wondered idly if Axel did that on purpose, but the thought was almost completely banished as soon as his head hit the pillow. Well, one of the ten pillows that Axel used to cushion the king-sized Tempurpedic mattress that served as Roxas's bed.

He crawled slowly to the center of the bed, shoving his arms under the pillows and burying his face in the soft, fresh fabric. With his full stomach and still-damp hair, it didn't take very long for him to drift into a deep, restful sleep.

So it made sense that when, three hours later, Axel creaked open his door and came sit on the edge of his bed, he didn't even stir. He didn't move when Axel brushed his blonde bangs out of his forehead and closed eyes, tucking it softly behind his hair.

Only when his door clicked shut and the room was again plunged into darkness did Roxas blink his eyes open, trying to remember the very, very sweet dream that he had been woken up from.