Roxas never really liked Sundays. He was never really for the getting up early to go to Church, the Sunday brunch with the family, and all of the cleaning that occurred afterwards. He hated how his mother would put him in a suit and tell him to be a good boy, and he hated wearing a white robe and walking around, doing the "dirty work" for the priest (a phrase that he and his fellow altar boys had coined). He hated sitting at a small table in a crappy diner with his mother and father (just his mother after the divorce) and faking that he was enjoying his pancakes.
Of course, at one point, he just had to tell it all to stop. That point just so happened to be the Sunday before he made the bet with Axel; a week ago. Was this karma's way of getting back at him? Was God punishing him for deciding that being an altar boy and eating shitty food with his mother every Sunday was a terrible tradition to be upheld? Or was it just plain bad luck?
The hardest part was talking himself out of bed and into the shower. He knew that he couldn't stay in bed all weekend; his friends would freak out and it would just plain suck. Plus, by now his sheets probably smelled like unclean. His hair felt greasier than a bacon pan, and he swore he could scrape the dirt off of his skin.
The shower went quickly. He just soaped, washed his hair, and jumped out. The anticipation of seeing whether or not Axel decided to get up was killing him. Had last night even happened? Had these last four and a half days actually happened, or had it all been a wishful dream? He found little solace in the fact that he would soon find out.
--
Roxas was 14, so he couldn't drive. He didn't even have a learner's permit or one of those little blue cards that he saw some of his friends walking around with; his main form of transportation was by skateboard or Axel. Unfortunately, there was no way he was going to risk his life skateboarding down that driveway of his teacher's, and the way things were looking the latter wasn't going to be an option. So, in short, he was stuck at the house until Axel made up his mind to do whatever it was he was planning on doing.
By some grace of God, there were still pancakes left from the day previous from Roxas to heat up. They were a little soggy with the syrup, but the blonde was sure that he could make due with what he had. There was, after all, the take-out number that Axel had given him. Axel. All of his thoughts led him back to the redhead.
There was the TV, too. Axel was one of those people who had to be subscribed to every single bonus channel that Time Warner Cable offered, so there were a ton of HBO movies, HDTV shows, et cetera. Unfortunately, none of them were able to hold Roxas's attention for too long. He was, pitifully enough, too preoccupied. Glancing at the clock, he groaned internally. It was only two in the afternoon; he would have to deal with his feelings of not being able to wait for the rest of the day.
In the game room, that Axel had shown him his second day there, he was able to keep himself busy with a rather frustrating game of darts and some pool for a while. That was good, and it allowed him to distract himself enough to flip on Fight Club on AMC. His main focus was killing time, and so far he was doing a good job.
--
I could feel his breath dancing across my skin, raising goose bumps. His arms encircled by waist protectively, yet affectionately at the same time. It was a feeling that was so hard to explain, and I loved it so much. I loved him so much. I would give anything for him in a heartbeat, all he would have to do was ask. And yet, by some twist of fate, he was the one who gave me everything. He was the one who provided me with everything I asked for.
He brought his lips back up my neck and rested his head against me, holding me close.
"I love you, Roxas." He whispered, again a phrase that seemed like the first and millionth time. "I love you so, so much."
"I love you too, Axel." I whispered back, stroking his hair and pressing my face against it. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you."
"Likewise, kiddo."
"Ugh. Don't call me that." I could feel the chuckle that reverberated through Axel's chest and his entire body, softly shaking the couch. I sounded irritated, but we both knew I really didn't mind.
"Whatever you say, Roxy. Whatever you say."
This time when Roxas woke up, his throat was tight. He didn't practically shoot out of his bed, and he wasn't sweating. But he could feel tears fighting their way out through his eyes, and a sob that was threatening to break through his throat. He was determined to keep it back.
He glanced at the clock, and it read eight thirty. He didn't know how long he had been asleep, because he couldn't remember if he had fallen asleep before or after Fight Club had ended, but he knew that he would be getting his answer from Axel very, very soon. When they saw each other three times a day for an hour each during the week, he knew the redhead wouldn't be able to keep his answer a secret any longer.
Throwing himself off the couch, he trudged into the kitchen and dialed the number for the take-out place Axel had given him. It turned out that they were Italian instead of Chinese, spoke very good English, and apparently had the best spaghetti you could order in all of Rochester. He ordered two helpings, just incase something should happen, even though he knew he would most likely be eating alone tonight.
There wasn't a sound from Axel's room when the doorbell rang and Roxas answered it, when Roxas paid for his meal with money straight out of Axel's wallet, or when Roxas practically turned the kitchen up-side-down looking for a metal fork and steak knife he could use to cut his meatballs. The blonde poured half of the contents of the little plastic dish into a deep plate (or shallow bowl, depending on how you look at it) and set the other half in the refrigerator with a resigned sigh.
Now he knew how Axel must have felt the previous night. Eating alone was not a feature Roxas got to enjoy while at Axel's home, but eating with someone else was something that you grew used to. Eating with someone else that you grew to love was an added bonus, and without Axel here to fill the silences and keep conversation going, it was eerily quiet. Depressingly quiet.
--
Generally speaking, Roxas loved to sleep. He loved drifting into that place where you were awake, but just barely, right before you drifted off to sleep. He loved it when he finally did fall asleep, and watching in third person as his lucid dreams kept his brain working as the rest of him reenergized.
Tonight, however, none of that happened. He was way more awake than he was the night before, yet half as excited. He was just…meh. There was no way to describe what he was feeling except for meh. He wasn't bad, necessarily. However, he definitely wasn't good. He was just…meh.
He knew that if he were to fall asleep, he would dream of Axel. He knew that he would dream of Axel loving him (both physically and emotionally) and he knew that this would cause him to wake up with tears streaming down his cheeks and staining his already nasty pillowcase. Why, though? What reason did he have to cry? It wasn't like Axel had given their relationship a death sentence already. He had just given it a maybe.
Roxas flipped over on his stomach, groaning, throwing his arms under his pillow and yelling into it. God, this was frustrating. It was driving him crazy. Had this been how Axel had felt? When he was laying in bed, seconds after Roxas had kissed him, was he frustrated because he knew that he wanted the boy but could never have him? Roxas tried vainly to answer these questions, and it didn't take very long for his confusion to put him to sleep.