The breeze smelled of mist. The decay of the alleyway was stifling and pungent, yet the stench was overwhelmed by the smell of fresh mint leaves.
Roxas' breath became slow and laborious, every gasp of air taking his entire reserve of strength to complete. His body was ache, and he let his body completely numb in his daze.
Was it worth it?
Roxas tried to ponder it , but his thoughts slipped away from him like blood through his fingers.
"Man, this curiosity is going to kill me someday." Roxas should have panicked at the sound of footsteps approaching him, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He just wanted to sleep. "Eh, who cares. If it's worth killing over, it's worth dying to see." Roxas dimly heard a deep, throaty laugh the suddenly cut short as a shadow loomed over him. Roxas' eyes opened and he blinked many times to clear his head, looking up at what seemed to be an angel. His face stood starkly and beautiful against the moon, bright green eyes staring intently at him. "Fuck." Roxas let his eyes close, and felt warm hands grasp his body and a sudden tightness around his wrists.
Roxas lay limply as the hands quickly set out to undo everything Roxas had planned. He could do nothing but lay there, hoping and praying that the god that never listened would finally let him die in peace.
...
Warmth. Throbbing.
Reality came back slowly and painfully, as it always does when you sleep peacefully and finally realize that it was only a dream.
That it will only ever be a dream.
His eyes opened apprehensive, wondering where he was. Roxas stretched, his body sore and achy as he eyed the lilac room.
"Try not to move that much. You'll break your stitches." Roxas' eyes show toward the voice as he realized that it was coming from the foot of his bed. He felt an unnoticed weight lift off of his legs as a shock of red hair moved, vibrant in the dull room. The boy appeared to be a bit older than Roxas, tall and lanky, and his dazzling eyes were shadowed with what seemed to be a lack of sleep.
Fucker, Roxas thought. This was who brought him back.
The night had been a fuzzy mixture, his memories trailing in and out of a red haired boy standing over him, pressing a needle under his skin and threading it out, covering him gently.
Roxas didn't need that.
Roxas tried to sit up, but his head spun. He glared as the boy raised his eyebrows, and Roxas staggered forward. His body was stiff and unwilling to accommodate the sudden movement, but Roxas had to leave.
The boy stood up and stretched as Roxas fumbled past him. He put his arm on Roxas' shoulder, his grasp firm and unyielding. "I don't think you should be moving so soon. You need to rest." Roxas rolled his eyes, but when he attempted to speak his voice was hoarse. "Try not to talk, either. I've been trying to pump fluids in you, but you're still a bit dehydrated."
Roxas cleared his throat, but his voice came out rough and dry. "I'd rather just leave, thanks." The boy smelled of mint, Roxas thought. But he needed to leave, no matter how kind or caring the stranger. It was not the boy's life to interfere with.
The boy smiled foxily, his features sharpening with the curl of his mouth. "And go where?" Roxas averted his eyes, losing the hard gaze he was hoping to use to weaken the boy's resolve.
He would go back to the alley.
At this point, any sharp object would do, especially with the state he was in.
"I can't stay here. I need to... meet up with someone." Roxas lied. He was a horrible liar, but in this case he was planning on meeting Death. Half truths never hurt anyone, Roxas told himself.
"This is my house. You're my guest. And you're going to stay here, conscious or not." Roxas opened his mouth to protest, but was pushed back into the bed. "Sleep. I'll be back in a few hours to bring you food. I'll assume you're not allergic to anything, but I'll prepare something else as a fail-safe." The boy stood up swiftly, and headed toward the white door, only looking back as he unlocked it.
"My name is Axel." The boy smiled softly before closing the door behind him, and Roxas felt a wave of nausea pulsing to his head as he leaned back.
He didn't miss the sound of a door locking.
...
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