CHAPTER SEVEN
With a flurry of final checks, forty minutes later found them ready to leave. Aerith had calmed somewhat, though tension continued to ripple the air around her. Armed with detailed directions to the site of both the church where the wedding was taking place, and then the nearby park where a marquee would be waiting for the reception, she hurried to lock up the store. They had a busy day ahead of them, which would stretch well into the night by the time they got home again – but this sort of work was the sort Roxas could more than manage; straightforward, unobserved, repetitive. Not to mention the fact that this time he actually had help.
As the last load of lilies was deposited into the back, Roxas straightened, beads of sweat trickling despite the chill within the van. A shadow fell across the doorway, both he and Hayner, who was bent down and muttering, pawing through one of the buckets of ice in search of his watch, victim to its faulty clasp, glancing up. Aerith, slender and elegant, somehow managed to almost entirely block the sunlight, filling the space with a hand pressed on either side of the metal. "You two are staying back here," she informed them grimly. Hayner arched an eyebrow, lips pursing, one incredibly numb hand withdrawing with a rattle of ice as he shot a look over at Roxas. "Ten bucks says she's planning on stashing our cold, dead bodies back here."
The blond dug a hand into one pocket, pulled out his wallet and ripped it open, slipping out first one ten-dollar note and then another, slapping them into his friend's hand. "I'll see that bet," he announced, "and raise it by guessing her ultimate plan is to mulch us up for plant food."
Hayner pointed a finger sharply in agreement. "That's good," he said emphatically. "I like it. If we don't die, you get your money back." He tucked the bills away.
Impatiently, Aerith rolled her eyes, asked, "Are my resident comediennes done, now?" She sent them pointed looks, a powerfully no-nonsense expression in place. "I'll drive us to Traverse Town, and if I have difficulty finding the venue, Hayner, you'll be coming up front to help out. But other than that, I want the pair of you working hard to arrange these," she swept a hand at the mess of flowers crammed into the space, "into bouquets, lapel decorations, and corsages – ten apiece of the last two." She frowned in thought. "Make the bouquet stems custom-length to suit both being carried and put into vases, but don't put them in their vases yet – wait until we're setting them up at the venue." Nodding, stepping back, not waiting to see whether this was acceptable or not – after all, they were the labour monkeys – the woman took hold of the handle of the sliding door and, with the swift noise of metal along metal, slammed it shut, sealing the boys within. Hayner strapped his watch back on, the pair shooting each other amused glances. "I'm so on the winning side of this bet," Hayner muttered.
There was a bang as Aerith climbed into the driver's seat and shut the door, her voice floating back: "Both of you sit down! Make sure you're not visible through the back window, I don't want to be pulled over."
Hayner called back, "Yes, ma'am," and the two of them lowered to the floor of the rapidly cooling vehicle, wedged between the collection of crates and buckets. The van started up, sending vibrations shooting up through their spines, Roxas shivering sharply at the sensation. Aerith got going immediately, both blonds letting out slight murmurs as they swayed hard to the side, hands reaching out to grasp at anything solid, steadying.
As he adjusted, Roxas started pulling his arms back in, turning his attention to the vast collection of flowers, when suddenly, Hayner grabbed his hand. Stopping, stiffening with the realisation of precisely which hand it was, Roxas attempted to distract his friend, joking, "What's this, Hay? Proposing already?"
Hayner held his bruised fingers up, the shadows deep around the knuckles. Brows drawing together, the rangy blond asked, "What the hell is this from?"
Roxas reclaimed his hand, tugging it from the other's grasp, self-consciously running his fingers over the more tender sections of flesh from where the redhead had squeezed so painfully hard the previous evening. Absently, the blond wondered if this was what the guy's nose felt like. "I just…" Roxas hesitated, unsure of whether or not to reveal the details. With a three-hour trip ahead of them, the two of them shut in together like this with no escape, he didn't think he wanted to endure Hayner's reaction and the subsequent rapid-fire questioning that would occur. The taller blond wasn't exactly known for his passive placidity in a crisis.
"I overused it," he heard himself mumble, eyes drifting to the left. "Yesterday, at that mansion. I pulled one of the pots over too hard on the trolley, and when I caught it, I messed up my hand." He shook it out, spread his fingers and thumb wide for better inspection, frowning slightly. "It doesn't even really hurt," he honestly said. "Not so that I notice it, or anything. I just bruised it up a little." Hayner sent him a strange look, head shaking from side to side.
"You've always been weird like that." He grabbed the outstretched hand, squeezed it a little as a test, noting Roxas' complete lack of reaction, except for slight irritation at the fact that they were now officially holding hands. He tugged free, not happy at seeing his hand encased like that, like it had been last night. It didn't matter that it was Hayner doing it… in fact, that almost made it creepier. "We need to get started on these corsages and shit," he grunted, satisfied that the other blond wasn't suspicious of anything. He'd tell Hayner, he would – just… not until he could find a way to block out the ranting and raving that would ensue. "And… and you need to tell me, seeing as how we have the next three hours of only each other's company – what the hell is up with you and Olette?"
Triumph. Hayner's gaze cut away, disgruntlement rising sharply, all thought of Roxas' hand fading away. "What's that supposed to mean? Since when is there anything 'up' with me and Olette?" Both boys reached for lilies, scissors, bundles of ivory ribbon. Their breaths puffed out, the interior of the van getting colder, a wild extreme to the outside temperature. Roxas rolled his eyes.
"Since Seifer became more than the asshole-next-door, that's when. It's been, what – three months now?"
Hayner snorted, sent him a dry look. "Dude, up until Pence told you about it the other day, you had no clue anything was going on out of the ordinary. So now you're some kind of expert on the matter?" He scowled down at the long stems he was carefully cutting, the sound of the scissors short and clipped. "I don't like Seifer. Olette does. That's where it starts and finishes; she gets pissed off at me for saying stuff about him, and I get pissed off because Seifer's saying the exact same sort of shit about me – us – and she just fucking simpers or whatever." He snipped particularly ferociously, shortening suddenly what would have been a vase bouquet into a handheld. "It's a little bit double-standard-y, don't you think?"
Roxas was quiet for a minute, registering all this, shaping his own bundle of lilies, grabbing some ribbon and beginning to wrap it around his fingers. "From what Olette said," he cautiously continued at last, "there's more to it than that." Hayner froze, every muscle going stiff. Roxas, curiously, paused and looked up, brow furrowing, lips parting at the position he found his friend in. "…Hayner?"
Through immobile lips, the blond asked, "What'd she say to you?" Roxas' eyes narrowed.
"So there is something!" A slow, hesitant smirk twitched the corners of his mouth. "What happened, Hayner? You can tell me, I'm your friend… your best friend, just about…"
Hayner's gaze thinned as he studied the blond. "So she didn't tell you anything much, then? I mean – you either know, or you don't know. There can't be any hints – either she told you, or she didn't." Roxas' expression fell a little.
"She didn't tell me much – but that's because I wouldn't let her, Hayner. I figured, you know…" He shrugged a little, focused on his work. "If you wanted me to know, I'd know already. Since I don't…" He trailed off, shrugged again. Hayner grunted.
"If you're so damn great that you wouldn't let her tell you, then why the hell are you bugging me now? I still haven't said anything – you should've kept your mouth shut about it."
A little stung, Roxas replied, "Okay, fine. I just figured we could talk about it, what with how long we've got. But if you're going to be a bitch, I'll just keep my mouth shut and keeping building bouquets."
Hayner glared for a little while, while the shorter of the two scowled down at his work, fingers nimbly weaving white ribbon through green stems. "Look," Hayner muttered at last, "it's really not a huge deal, okay? It's all under the bridge, anyway." A disheartened tone entered his voice, as he pulled the fabric tight. "Nothing's going to change." He tied a bow, set the bouquet to one side, reached for another handfuls of stems and started trimming. Roxas studied him for a couple of minutes, hands still, before Hayner glanced up, disgruntled, and said, "Are you going to admire me all morning, or are you going to make pretty bunches of flowers?"
"…To be honest, I don't know which of those would make my sexuality more questionable," he replied after a beat. Hayner snorted, recognised his cue, the point at which both conversations – Roxas' hand, and whatever the hell was going on with that whole Hayner-Olette-Seifer triangle crap – would be dropped.
"Oh, honey, you know you're all man to me." It was said without its usual enthusiasm, and with a hefty roll of the eyes, but it was a start. The beauty of their friendship was that each knew when was a good time to just stop talking – they could spend countless hours on Hayner's patio shooting the breeze, but it was equally as important to be able to keep your mouth shut and pretend there was nothing to talk about sometimes.
The trip passed uneventfully, boring and slightly nauseating due to the constant motion in the back of the van, the inability for Roxas to see anything more than glimpses of speeding sky and tree through the back windows. The air grew icy cold, the back made to be well-sealed so that, even on long days, the flowers wouldn't wilt while they waited to be delivered. Aerith kept the vents going, blowing air-conditioning through to keep things fresh enough for them to comfortably breathe, but this added to the cold, made it so that the blonds were shivering violently after the first thirty minutes. Their shaking fingers worked quickly, clumsily, trying to get through the enormous load of lilies in time, bodies instinctively pressing together, shoulders and thighs, to preserve what little heat they produced in comparison.
Roxas' nose went completely numb. He grew to detest the smell of ice cubes, an almost chemical scent, stinging his nostrils with each inhalation. His head ached at the dreadful chill, but, somehow, he preferred this to being in the melting sunniness. It was dim in here, protected. In some section of his mind, he honestly didn't mind being crushed back here, where no one could see him, quietly and calmly turning loose flowers into small, casual arrangements. He hoped the employers weren't expecting too much from their last-minute efforts; Aerith was the one with the artistic flair, the two blonds' abilities simple at best.
They stopped only once on the way, for Aerith to refill the gas-tank, and the boys to stretch their legs and get their blood circulating more strongly. They jogged up and down the short parking-lot, not enough to begin perspiring properly, but hopefully enough to raise their core temperatures for a while after they climbed back into what had become a tight, refrigerative atmosphere. The brunette questioned their comfort, but they assured her they were doing fine – besides which, the lilies weren't going to arrange themselves. Frowning a little, Aerith reluctantly let them return to the cold. Though it had been her idea in the first place, the last thing she wanted was for them to get sick. Before Roxas re-entered, she pressed a hand to his shoulder, asked, "Are you sure you don't want to sit up front? You've been unwell…" Brow knitting, she brushed some of the slightly damp blond hair from his face. "You're looking pale."
He'd smiled. "Aerith, I'm fine." He climbed into the van before the cold could start escaping in earnest, and he and Hayner spent the remainder of the incredibly long, dull trip making arrangement after arrangement, discussing trivial matters as their minds focused on trying to get as much quality as possible into each one, setting them aside into carefully-placed piles. Gradually, the percentage of loose lilies dwindled, though they still hadn't finished by the time they reached Traverse Town.
Feeling the van slow down from its open speed along the highway, hearing the growl of other vehicles increase sharply, the two boys deduced that they had reached the bubbling metropolis, Hayner's head coming up with interest, relief. Roxas had been to Traverse a grand total of once, dragged by Pence to a gallery opening. He hadn't liked the place; too exposed, too busy, too rubbishy. It was nothing like Twilight Town's peaceful streets and neighbourhoods. The sunset here, Roxas had found, was dirty. The thought of staying until past nightfall, when things would only get more crowded in between the garish lights, was disheartening.
They were driving for about twenty minutes before Aerith pulled over, banged on the divide between the front and back of the van, Hayner's cue to clamber to his feet and go sit in the passenger's seat to navigate. He threw a cocky wink over his shoulder as he pushed open the door, a burst of heat entering the frigid interior. "Have fun making daisy-chains," he grinned, slamming it shut after him. Roxas firmly gave the door the finger. They were both bored stiff with the stupid lilies by now. Three hours was way too long to sit in-between crates of ice and make wedding decorations, no two ways about it. They didn't even have any food or drink to tide them over – Roxas' stomach was just about clawing itself to pieces, he hadn't eaten since the previous day, and even that had only been a hastily bolted half a sandwich Hayner had picked up from The Usual Spot while he'd been out, in the two minutes before Aerith had shoved him off to do deliveries. Prior to that, the only thing to hit his stomach had been the ever-dubious, unlabelled chicken. Not exactly a diet of champions.
He had spent most of the journey thirstily sucking down ice cubes, much to Hayner's disgusted claims about all the various sorts of nasty shit that was put into them to keep them hard for longer. Roxas figured, oh, well, you had to go sometime – why not ice-cube poisoning, if it had to be anything? He had yet to drop dead from it, and he'd been eating them for months.
The vehicle started up again, and Roxas could tell from the moment that it pulled away from the curb that Hayner was behind the wheel – the turns had got suddenly lazy. Aerith was a more careful driver than this; up til now, the crates hadn't been sliding all over the fucking place. He had bruised shins and elbows in moments. After five minutes of such treatment, he reached back, slammed a fist several times against the partition, trying desperately to keep the piles of flowers from getting crushed by the scraping boxes. Either the blond got the hint, or Aerith realised her error and kept him in check, because from then on, everything remained more or less stable, although Roxas' nausea increased more in the following fifteen minutes than it had the entire rest of the drive.
Eventually, he felt them slowing, felt them stop, and the engine, at long, blessed last, cut out. Muttering a soft, "Hallelujah," under his breath, Roxas began carefully gathering the fruits of their last few hours together, laying them carefully in several of the ice-laden boxes and buckets. There were footsteps outside, the door unlatching, sliding across, light coming bursting in. Roxas squinted, stood stiffly, legs and buttocks numb, ready to buzz with an agonising wave of pins-and-needles. The heat slammed into him like a wall, making the car-sickness suddenly worse. A headache sprung up behind his eyes, mouth twisting to the side as he grimaced. Aerith was gone already, scouting the area out, and Roxas, looking up as he stepped down at last to the hard bitumen of a parking lot, studied the large church that the wedding was being held at. Arms folding behind his head, he leaned back to let his eyes travel high to the cross mounting its peak.
Hayner was talking, pointing something out, but it was background noise that didn't quite penetrate Roxas' mind – he was, very abruptly, not feeling well at all. Maybe it was the sharp temperature change, the lack of nutrients, the strain of the last few days finally catching up, but the boy found it difficult, all of a sudden, to be standing. Cigarette-holes burnt his vision wherever he looked, sweat popping out as if he'd just finished dragging around those godforsaken pots a third fucking time, legs going shaky, rubbery, weak.
Hayner grabbed his arm as he swayed, frowning face drawing his focus down from the height of the cross. "Roxas? What's up, man, you look like you've seen a ghost."
Roxas pitched to the side, collapsed, passed out without a murmur.
He could've sworn, with a final coherent observation, as his eyes slammed shut and everything went away for a while, that he'd caught a glimpse of red hair in the peripherals of the world.
.o.O.o.
Roxas was back to making daisy-chains, sitting in the rear of the van, its door yawning open as Aerith and Hayner quickly carried crates back and forth, setting up inside the church, the wedding guests a mere two hours from arriving. He did it quietly, without complaint, although it meant continuing boredom, much to his disdain. But… his legs could barely hold him when he stood. The strength was gone from his limbs, even his fingers having trouble as he worked on the bouquets destined to adorn the park marquee.
Aerith and Hayner worked feverishly, the blond following the woman's every clipped direction, the brunette calm now, business-like. Now that they were here, she was doing a good job of holding everything together, despite being one worker short. She refused to let Roxas out of the van again until he'd got some food into his stomach, Hayner having helpfully pointed out his less-than-supreme eating habits, knowing his friend wasn't likely to have had breakfast, either, as he was wont to do most days.
There was a crunching of loose bitumen, followed by a thump, the van sinking as Hayner launched himself from outside to inside, shimmering with sweat, cheeks burning red. He threw the shorter blond a glance, demanded, "How are you feeling?" as he stalked to the back, bent and grabbed one of the crates. Roxas grunted in response, trying to keep his focus on the flowers. Hayner kicked him with a toe as he went past, managed to jab a finger at him and not drop the box, though there was a sharp rattle of ice. "What the hell is up with you lately, man?" He didn't give the blond a chance to reply, jumping the short distance to the ground, vanishing out of sight. Glancing around, Roxas noticed that that had been the last of the load due for the church. From here, it was all a matter of setting up, something which Aerith had been going at for about fifteen minutes now. Her style of disorganised arrangement was popular, and despite its random, wildflower appearance, it took the woman a while to achieve. Although she hadn't been the initial choice for the couple in question, she was determined to make her design stick in their minds. Her idea of leaving her business card was to have people asking who had done it, allowing word of mouth to travel. Roxas had to admit, he liked the way she operated – she had an ability to make everything look natural.
It was an hour before Hayner reappeared, looking cooler than before, his expression less agitated. Roxas' little fainting stunt had put the taller blond on edge, had brought the wary look back into his expression, with frustration to round it all out, plus a glint of something beneath that Roxas could only assume was worry. Climbing up into the van, Hayner settled beside him, gathered a handful of the remaining lilies, and it was as if neither of them had ever even left, as if the trip hadn't ended. There was silence for a while, Roxas too weary to try and strike up anything resembling proper conversation, while Hayner frowned down at his ceaselessly shifting hands. At last, he could only ask, "Rox, have you been sleeping okay?"
Roxas paused, looked sideways, Hayner's gaze remaining lowered. A scowl worked its way onto his features. "I'm sleeping fine." A sliver of coldness in his tone, foreign and unexpected, caused the other blond to stop, glance over in confusion. Hazel eyes studied piercing blue for a long moment.
"…No nightmares?"
The creases in Roxas' forehead deepened, his fingers returning to their work. "No," he mumbled. He reached up, rubbed one eye. "If – if you think this is related to that blank period the other night, then… just forget about it, okay? It's really not."
"You haven't been eating," Hayner stated, with more certainty than Roxas thought he deserved, "and you look like you're barely sleeping." His brows lowered, a slightly unsettled look falling into place. "…And, I've gotta say, Rox – it's not exactly the newest of new things, you know?"
The blond shot him a sharp glance. "What's that mean? 'Not exactly the newest of new things'?"
Hayner shrugged, weaving thick green stems together for a long bouquet, the velvety heads of the lilies bobbing and jerking. "You don't eat much when I'm not around. I've noticed. It's like… if you're not cooking for both of us, or we're not out in public at The Usual Spot or wherever, you don't really bother." His eyes flashed over to the shorter of the two. "You don't bring lunch anymore, and I haven't seen you eat breakfast in weeks." He took a breath as Roxas glared.
"So what?" he demanded. "Have you realised that the slight miscalculation in all that is that you're not always there when I eat?" He arched an eyebrow, rolled his eyes. "What am I, fading away?" He paused, patted his stomach. Okay, so maybe he wasn't as fleshy as he used to be, but he wasn't exactly wasting away, either. He looked, and felt, healthy. There was no way he could have done his job properly if he wasn't.
"Every time I see you," the blond argued softly, "you've got bags under your eyes, Roxas. And every time you sleep at my place, your nightmares are worse and worse, and I find it hard to believe that that's totally restricted to only my place. Your sleep patterns are shit, admit it."
"I say again: so what, Hayner? Stop pointing out the fucking obvious and say something constructive." Roxas shook his head. "It's no secret that my sleep patterns are shit, is it? And as for food, I've just been running out of time for that sort of thing, Hay." He leaned forward, twisting his head to engage the taller boy's gaze, which had returned to the lilies. An element of pleading entered his tone as he asked, "Please, don't think there's something wrong with me. I've been like this for a while now, right? It's not to do with my episodes, and it's not even to do with anything much in particular. It's just a phase I'm going through, don't you think?" His eyebrows pushed together as he studied his friend. "I mean, it's not like I'm depressed, or have issues or anything. Stuff like this fluctuates, eating and sleeping, it's normal for people our age, Hayner." The pleading turned to brief desperation. "Please, don't think there's something wrong with me."
Hayner sighed, shook his head. "Roxas – I think it's pretty obvious there is something up with you. The episodes aren't normal, and neither are the nightmares." As Roxas froze up, a chill wind blowing across his expression, Hayner looked up sharply. "I'm not about to tell you to go get professional help, man, you know I'm not. I don't have the right to tell you you're fucked up or whatever… but…" He grimaced, drew up his knees, resting his arms across them and his face on top of the straight line they formed, staring sideways at the other boy. "It doesn't mean I don't worry about you. How would you feel if it was me, or Olette or Pence? Huh? Nightmares, appetite-loss – I don't care if it's nothing we can pinpoint or medicate or whatever, I just want to point it out so we can maybe start doing something about it." As the cold look didn't leave Roxas' face, Hayner ran a hand over his features tiredly. "Listen, that's the first time you've passed out, Rox. It was pretty gross, I can tell you, your eyes were right up in your fucking skull, and you – you drooled right onto my fucking arm, which was kind of disgusting." He shook his head, as Roxas wordlessly huffed at this. "What's next, huh? Are you going to make a habit of fainting all over the place? Maybe when you're in the shower, or in the middle of work in front of a client? Are you going to piss yourself, next time? Am I going to have to clean your piss off me, Roxas?"
Fed up with the increasingly ranting spiel, Roxas rolled his eyes, said with sarcastic exasperation, "If I do, I apologise in advance, how's that?"
"That's even assuming I'm even there to catch you," Hayner powered on, disregarding the fact that the blond had spoken at all. "I mean, that's if you're not alone and end up cracking your head open on your kitchen counter, or burn yourself or, I don't know, drown or something."
"Or maybe I'll set my apartment on fire," Roxas suggested with heavy scorn, "or drive off a cliff, or fall out a window. Oh, boy, the possibilities are endless." He reached out, smacked the back of Hayner's head, making the blond yelp. "For Christ's sake, you're blowing this so out of proportion it's not even funny," he complained. "I suck at eating and sleeping at the moment, like roughly half the rest of the world, and I passed out on a hot fucking day after a long fucking car-ride, which made me feel sick I might add, and suddenly you're waiting for me to somehow kill myself?" He scoffed, shook his head, reached for more lilies. "I'm feeling better, anyway," he said firmly, making Hayner eye him suspiciously. "It was a one-time thing, Hay, so just – let it go. Once I have lunch, I'll be fine. Stop being a goddamn doom-merchant."
Hayner pouted and rubbed the back of his head, muttering, "Bitch."
A dark shadow appeared in the doorway, Aerith hissing, "Language! For goodness' sake, we're in public, and you're sitting in the shop van! I could hear you talking almost from the church. Please, boys!"
"It wasn't me," Roxas mumbled, jerking a thumb at the other blond, who promptly glared.
"How're we looking, captain?" Hayner inquired, hands remaining busy. Aerith lifted her head with a deep breath, smiled wearily.
"All done here, gentlemen. We'll stop for lunch, then get started on the marquee." The smile faded as she leaned forward, pressed her hand to Roxas' forehead. "How are you feeling?" she asked, with concern. Roxas shrugged.
"I'm okay, Aerith. I just need to eat something, I guess. I'll make sure I get an early night, that sort of thing."
Her green eyes flicked around the van's interior. "You've done a good job with the lilies. Now we just have to focus on setting them up when the time comes…" She frowned. "But please, if you start feeling strange, or faint, take a break, Roxas. Hayner and I can manage together like we did in the church. You must say something if you're feeling bad."
The blond nodded, not bothering to tell her that, if he'd had a chance, he'd have said something when it was happening – he'd just gone from okay to unconscious in too small an amount of time to be able to ask for help. If Aerith heard this, she'd all but strap him to the passenger's seat and never let him go.
Roxas and Hayner climbed to their feet, exited the back of the van, leaving Aerith to slide the door shut as they went around to the front, Roxas at the window, Hayner in the middle, and their boss minutes later taking up the driver's seat. "Looks like it'll be a nice ceremony," Hayner said idly, as they gave the building one last look, the van rumbling over towards the road, pulling smoothly out into the flow of traffic. "Although it's a weird thing about the florist that was originally hired, huh, Aerith?" The brunette glanced over, eyes suddenly wide, nodding firmly.
"I just don't understand who would do such a thing," she said, voice low. "It really is dreadful."
Interest piqued, Roxas asked, "What is it? What happened?" Hayner stretched his arms over the back of his head, propping his hands against his hair.
"It's pretty gross," he warned, "but someone apparently snuck into the shop that was originally hired… and set fire to it." Roxas' eyes bugged. Hayner clicked his fingers to signify just how quickly everything had burnt. "Whoosh, just like that – their whole supply was gone. Good thing we're all insured against that sort of thing."
"How do you know someone snuck in?" the other blond asked, gaping. A crease had appeared between Aerith's brows.
"It was localised," she confided, concentrating half on driving, half on the conversation. "If it had been accidental, there's no telling how much of the shop would have been lost – but it was only the flowers. They had nothing left to use, and couldn't afford to spend the time or money special-ordering in a new lot, not to mention the sudden paperwork they've got from the insurance company and the police..." She shrugged a little, helplessly. "So, the owner called me last night – apparently it happened sometime around eight o'clock – and asked if I'd take over the commission. The couple getting married are from Twilight Town, and although they've come to Traverse for the ceremony because it's more central for all the different relatives, they still wanted to use a local business."
Blue eyes shifting to stare blankly out the windscreen. "That's… such an act of sabotage," he softly said. "It's so deliberate." He ran a hand through his hair, mumbled, "I hope no one ever hates us that much."
Aerith tutted from the driver's seat, peering briefly into the side mirror before turning a corner. "I can't imagine anyone hating anyone that much."
"Besides," Hayner drawled, "it's the flower business, for Christ's sake. What'd they do, forget a couple roses and incite the wrath of a pyromaniac?"
At this, Roxas' face drew slowly down into a frown. Thoughts of candle-flames and ash flashed through his mind, so split-second intense that he could almost taste charcoal on his tongue. "Arson…" he muttered darkly, causing Hayner to glance curiously over. "What a mindless thing to do."
One eyebrow arching, the other blond nodded his agreement, studying his friend's expression carefully. "Yeah."
Silence grew for several minutes, Roxas winding up his window to sink against the glass. When Hayner complained at the heat, Roxas simply ignored him, closed his eyes, not caring to explain – not knowing how – that he felt too exposed with it down. Aerith, guessing incorrectly that the blond was feeling shaky again, wound up her own and instead got the air-con going again, a luxury neither of the males ever felt brave enough to employ with gas prices as high as they were. There were, Roxas decided, definite advantages to riding around with the boss.
Said boss announced, a few streets later, "Look, there's the park." Roxas opened his eyes, looked out, had his vision obscured a bare second later as Hayner planted a hand on his knee and leaned over him, neck craning, generously gifting the blond with a faceful of wavy spikes. "I don't see the tent," the boy complained.
"That makes two of us," Roxas dryly mumbled. "You make a better door than a window, Hay."
Breezily, Hayner replied, "Ah, there's nothing to see, anyway." He rubbed his head into Roxas' mouth, making the boy splutter and glare, before returning victoriously to his position in the middle.
Aerith parallel-parked along the opposite curb, outside a lunch-bar, and the three trooped in, Aerith inviting them to get whatever they wanted to be charged to the shop accounts. In response to their surprise, she fondly explained, "I appreciate your attitudes today, boys. You deserve something nice."
Hayner, not pausing to give the woman time to change her mind, gravitated instantly towards the ice-cream freezer. "Roxas!" he happily called, pointing down at the frosted glass. "Sea-salts!"
The shorter blond's nose wrinkled. "Pass. I don't feel like anything sweet." After shooting him a vastly disapproving look, the hazel-eyed boy slid the cover open, plunged a hand in. "Besides, don't you think we've had enough of icy stuff today?"
Hayner made a rude noise. "Jeeze, Roxas, it's not like there's a quota on it." He came out with two bars, wrappers crackling. He waved them in the brunette's direction, asking, "Hey, Aerith, can I get these?"
The woman glanced over from browsing the sandwich boards. "Only if you get something decent as well." She took on a faintly reprimanding expression, adding in a barely audible murmur, "I'm not having anyone else pass out on me today."
Roxas, at her side, suffered a stab of guilt. It wasn't Aerith's fault, or responsibility, and yet she was acting as if, because it happened in her care, she should have been able to avert it. It wasn't her fault Roxas was absent-mindedly skipping meals… wasn't her fault that too many things requiring full energy output had taken place so close to the tail-end of one of his episodes, the existence of which the woman was kept ignorant. He didn't like to think what it would do to his employability if something like that were to come to light. Hayner had taken care of him so far in that respect – he always kept the blond home at his apartment, gave excuses of some kind or another to cover his absence. Roxas was – grateful to him. He didn't really know what he'd do without Hayner there… didn't know what he'd done before the occasionally cantankerous blond had come along.
No, really – he… he didn't know.
He supposed he had just – taken care of himself.
"Roxas?"
The twenty-one-year-old blinked, turned his head with a blank look and a questioning hum. Aerith seemed expectant, as if she'd asked him something. "I'm sorry, what was that?"
"Do you see anything you like?" she repeated.
"Oh." Blond brows drew together, blue eyes scanning the various names. "I'll just take… one of those." He pointed to the menu, the guy serving them twisting to see, before writing it down on an order-pad. It turned out Hayner and Aerith had already chosen; Roxas was zoning out. Who could blame him, after the last few days? After all, this time yesterday, he'd still been hung-over.
It took only a few minutes for their orders to be freshly made, Aerith grabbing bottles of dragon-fruit flavoured mineral water for each of them and paying, the three of them marching out onto the street with their white paper bags. The pink-clad woman led the way across the semi-quiet road, into the park, where they found a picnic bench further away from all the traffic noises and settled down to eat. Hayner, perched on the table, was already halfway through his second ice-cream, the barren stick of the first stuck behind one ear. His lunch was devoured just as fast and, while Roxas was only just reaching the halfway point on the fish sandwich he'd got, Hayner was lighting a cigarette downwind of them, earning a hearty glare from Aerith.
"Hayner!" Her voice just about dripped icicles.
He jumped, said defensively, "We're not on duty, and I'm nowhere near the van!"
"It's rude," the brunette argued sniffily. "Smoking's an awful habit, and it makes you stink."
"I'm down – wind!"
"What about Roxas? You might make him feel sick again."
"Aerith," Hayner retorted, "the guy practically lives with me, if he didn't like – "
"I don't mind," the blond quietly interrupted. He sent Aerith a crooked smile. "I… actually kind of like it. It reminds me of…" He trailed off, eyes slipping out of focus.
"Of?" Hayner prompted. Roxas gave a small, puzzled smile.
"Hearts," he said. "Broken hearts."
Hayner and Aerith both stared. "Well, that's random," the blond commented blandly, after a beat. "Hands up if you expected that answer." No hands entered the air, not even Roxas'. Hayner snorted, muttered, "Broken hearts," and let out a stream of smoke. Outnumbered, Aerith contented herself with a look of great distaste, and focused on not breathing any of it in. Roxas stared at his half a fish sandwich, and found that all appetite had dissipated. He set it aside gingerly, its paper crinkling, and instead opened his drink, steadily sipping it away.
Hayner finished his cigarette, finished Roxas' lunch, and at last it was time to resume work. Checking her watch, Aerith wistfully sighed, "The marriage will be underway now…"
Snuffing a laugh, Hayner teased, "It's not too late for you to run on back and see about catching that bouquet."
She slapped his arm lightly as they headed back to the van, scolded, "Stop that! Mean boy…"
Roxas smirked, looked over slyly and said, "Are you sure it's not you that's desperate to catch it, Hay? I haven't seen you with a girl the whole time I've known you."
The smack to his head, when it came, held an unexpected sting, making the blond hiss and duck away, fingers instinctively rising to touch the area.
"Shut your goddamn hole," Hayner growled, and, for once, Aerith didn't tell him to watch his language. Neither of them said anything; the expression on the blond's features were enough to keep them silent, let the matter drop completely, with only a flickered exchange of stunned glances.
Quietly, they returned to the white, be-flowered vehicle, the scent of lily thick and strong, invading every crevice, every crack of rubber, plastic, leather. Roxas was developing a headache at the sharp, sweet omnipresence of it, no escape from its perfume clutches. Rubbing his forehead, Roxas kept a sharp eye out as they circled the park's perimeter in search of the inward-leading drive that would take them practically to the marquee's tent-flaps. Hayner, holding the directions tightly, murmured and instruction of, "Here," as they approached. The van slowed, indicator clicking hollowing in the silence, and they made their turn.
The white vehicle slowed as it progressed, stopping in a small parking lot already crammed with caterers and decorators, along with an electrical crew setting up floodlights and connecting sound sound-system speakers strategically for when the band wouldn't be playing. Afternoon was falling slowly upon Traverse Town, several hours left before the sun extinguished itself, but the day felt so long already, Roxas was sure that in any other part of the world it was already midnight. This place was just caught in some kind of cross-dimensional pull keeping it forever light.
He hauled himself out of the van, wishing he didn't feel so tired, considering that all he'd done so far was sit on his ass and be feeble. Hayner, in stark comparison, was still operating at full capacity, though there was an edge to him now that had yet to fall away and reveal his regular, ever-casual self. Aerith, concerned now for both her hapless blond labour-monkeys, could only assume professionalism and hope they would fall into line somewhere along the way. Her balm for their troubles was work; hard and physical for Hayner, hauling the final crates of ice-laden lilies from the back, while she and Roxas went about arranging them around the massive white marquee, after Aerith had found the head caterer and briefly discussed how things should be set up for maximum blending. It only took an hour for everything to be arranged, a more open space here, with fewer boundaries to work with. In the end, Aerith's organisation worked well, the food and flowers offsetting each other around the main table. Several sleek, black vases had been brought along to house the long-stemmed bouquets, which would be sent back to them by courier the next day.
The outside light was finally starting to take on an amber hue, the heat of the day lowering to a slow simmer which would thankfully be swept away with darkness. As Aerith paused before the inevitable three-hour drive to have a networking chat with the caterers, Hayner and Roxas returned to the van, locked it up and went to sit on the grass to allow their hot bodies to cool. The taller of the pair shifted restlessly, drumming his fingers, a scowl in place. After one hesitant glance at him, Roxas realised, stomach sinking, that one of Hayner's own 'episodes' was well on its way. He was very suddenly depressed, too exhausted at this moment to contemplate the amount of work that was in store for him in the next few days. Instead, he lay back on the cool greenery, forearms folding over his eyes, taking advantage of the few minutes left before the interminable journey back to Twilight Town began.
At his side, Hayner huffed, fidgeted for a minute or two, then, with a rustle of grass, climbed to his feet. "I'm going for a walk," he muttered, at which Roxas unveiled one crystal-blue eye.
"Where?" he asked, incredulously. Hayner glared down.
"Hey, I do know the area, you know," he snapped. "I haven't been hiding in Twilight Town my whole freaking life, I have stayed in Traverse before."
Swallowing his own knee-jerk response, Roxas calmly asked, "But how will we be able to find you when it's time to leave? Aerith isn't going to take much longer…"
"I know that!" Hayner ran a hand agitatedly through his hair, a hand on his hip, and, like he always did, Roxas couldn't help but feel sorry for the blond. All that aggravated energy, trapped for whatever reason inside one body, with no way of getting out until he either sorted it out mentally or had an explosion or, rare though they were, a breakdown… Hayner just didn't know what to do with himself during these times. Roxas could see it now, and pitied him.
"I'll head back to the lunch-bar, okay?" Hayner said at last, his tone impatient, brooking not an iota of argument. "Just drive around and pick me up, that shouldn't be too hard." Heavy sarcasm entered his voice, which Roxas ignored.
"Nah," he agreed softly, "it won't be hard." He was treated to a particularly irritated glance, due to what Hayner had once dubbed as his 'annoyingly non-confrontational' attitude. A moment later, the blond was gone, had stalked away, his steps crunching along the rough grass.
Sighing, Roxas re-covered his eye, retreated back into the softness of darkness, where the sun couldn't pierce, nor the heat melt; not even his blank states could affect how black it was here. It was nice to know that some things would remain unchanged, no matter where he went, or what he did. There was always time to hide behind yourself for a while.
Of course, this was interrupted, as only sweet peace is made to be, by the sound of shoes returning. Hayner had come back, no doubt grumpier than before – had he realised that it would be harder than he'd suggested for them to just pick him up along the way? Had he seen Aerith emerging from the marquee? Roxas once again revealed his eye, careful to not make any smart-ass comment that would get him treated to an icily cold-shoulder treatment for the next several days. He squinted up as a deep shadow fell across his head, eye widening as he realised that the person standing over him, silhouetted by sunlight, looking down at him curiously, wasn't his friend at all. The first jolt of his heart thought that it was the stalker, back and ready for action… but a different air radiated around this new person, and Roxas' mind realised long before his heart slowed back down that he looked entirely different as well. He blinked his one visible eye up at the young man that studied him. "Can I help you?" he asked, slightly wary. The guy's mouth quirked, a small, awkward smile of recognition that this wasn't what people usually did.
"Hey," he said, voice careful, non-threatening. "Uh, I know this is going to sound… really weird, but…" Roxas raised his brow, waited, eye narrowing slightly. The guy crouched, his features becoming suddenly easier to make out as he got closer. Roxas relaxed, just the slightest amount, natural caution fading slightly – he couldn't deny that this guy, whoever he was and whatever he wanted… he had a nice face. It was sort of… trustworthy. Or something. Not only that, but it was completely lacking in the hardness Hayner had been sporting – a nice change, one which was pathetically welcome in his sapped state. The guy, his slightly spiky hair shining in the light, reached out to nervously pluck some grass. "I think that… someone might be following you," he said sheepishly.
This got Roxas' attention.
As he stiffened, the guy, looking suddenly alarmed, held out a hand, said quickly, "Don't make any sharp moves or anything – I mean, I might be entirely wrong, but, but I don't want him to realise we're talking about him if you suddenly start looking around."
"Him? Who?" Roxas demanded intently, breaths shorter. "What does he look like?"
The guy took a breath, kept picking at the ground. "He's – he's got a lot of red hair. I've been here a couple hours, watching everyone set up the marquee. I'm not, like, part of it or anything – to be honest, I should be asleep right now – but I was here, and I figured 'why not?'… And I noticed this other guy, not exactly lurking around, but…"
"What makes you think he's following me?" Roxas asked shortly, chest currently too constricted to bother with allowing the boy a safety net of uncertainty in case he turned out to be wrong.
"Well… he's been watching you, I noticed that," the boy said earnestly. "I started looking at him to see where he was looking, and you were always around… And he keeps shifting around, so that he's behind you, out of sight unless you really start looking… And, just now, when you and your friend came over here, he moved again, so that he could get a bit closer… He's over in the trees." Roxas' eyes, despite him, darted over, but the guy was in the way. "The whole reason I even came over is because, when your friend left a minute ago, this guy started looking like he was about to come over to you, and I don't know, I just got a hyper creepy feeling from him…" His head tilted to match the angle of Roxas' gaze, worried. "I'm not being creepy myself, am I? You actually do know him, and I've just been paranoid on your behalf or something?"
Roxas' lips pursed. "No, he – he's not someone I know. And I have had a guy with red hair following me lately. I actually met him for the first time last night, and he – tried to grab me." The boy's blue eyes widened dramatically.
"That's scary," he breathed. Concern tightened his features. "Look, I can hang around if you want, or I can go chase him off, I really wouldn't mind doing that for you. Your boss is over in the marquee, though, right?" Roxas hesitated, nodded. "I can walk you over there, if you want," the guy said firmly. "You definitely shouldn't be left alone. Have you reported him to police yet?"
Roxas shook his head. "I don't know… if it's serious enough," he said uncertainly. "He…" His eyes slipped shut. "I don't want to involve the cops if I don't have to."
Reluctantly, the guy nodded. "I guess. It's up to you, after all."
Roxas paused for a moment, trying to gather his whirling thoughts together, then slowly sat up, deliberately not looking around. He tried to snatch glances out of the corners of his eyes, but could see nothing worth noting – definitely no glimpses of red. However… hadn't he seen something just as he was passing out, back at the church?
How long had the redhead been tracking him here? Had he followed Roxas all the way from Twilight Town? It seemed impossible… impossible that anyone would do that sort of thing, for any reason.
The guy, his guardian angel it would seem, reached out a hand, helped Roxas to his feet, gripped his elbow as he swayed a little. "You okay?" he asked sceptically. "Not going to throw up or anything, are you?" Roxas shook his head.
"No," he said faintly. "I'm fine. I'll just… go wait in the van, I think. Wait for Aerith to get back." Satisfied with this, the guy let him go, the two of them crossing the grass back to the vehicle. Roxas, with the keys, unlocked it and climbed in, not feeling even slightly safe until the door was slammed shut in his wake. The guy tapped on the glass, smiled hopefully. Warily, Roxas leaned over, wound down the window a few inches. "I'll just wait out here until your boss comes, okay?" he asked. Roxas nodded gratefully.
"Thanks for noticing him," he said hoarsely. "What's your name?"
A hand was extended through the narrow gap, Roxas gripping it and automatically shaking. "Tidus." As Roxas released him, he ran a hand through his blond hair, spiked but with a surfer's wave to each lock.
"I'm Roxas," he replied. Disheartened, he added, "But hell, even my stalker knows that."
Tidus made a face. "Is he an ex-boyfriend or something?"
Roxas paused for a moment, before shaking his head. "Before yesterday… I'd never seen the guy in my life." The guy took pause at this, absorbed it, shook his head.
"That really is scary," he said softly. "Don't worry, then – I'll stay til he's gone." He smiled crookedly. "Then I'll go sleep some more, I think – I've got a night-job to get to in a few hours."
Roxas left the window open, settled back against the seat, wishing that Aerith would hurry up, that Hayner had never left – there was definitely no way he could go back to his own place tonight, not now that he'd been followed to Traverse Town. That was – more dedicated stalker than the blond was willing to face on his own, pepper spray or no.
He couldn't have followed them so closely to Traverse Town… Roxas remembered looking around at the gas station, seeing no cars coming or going at that point on the broad, open road, and the guy certainly hadn't been there at the station, he'd have been instantly visible, to both Roxas and Hayner. So, then – what the hell? He couldn't have got there before Roxas, he shouldn't have even known that the blond was going to Traverse Town – God knew he himself hadn't known until after he'd been so rudely thrust against the van outside the store and then led in to see the increasingly hysterical Aerith. It was – too much for him to puzzle out. It hurt his head to try, and it was tender enough to begin with, what with one thing and another.
Aerith returned ten minutes after Tidus had set up watch. Seeing her coming, the blond surfer-type had rapped against the glass, startling Roxas out of a reverie, and nodded in a friendly fashion over to where Aerith was coming. Relief flooded him, and he grinned at Tidus, mouthed, Thank you, through the glass. The guy winked, tipped an imaginary hat, and wandered off before the brunette could wonder what he was doing there. Roxas let out a breath, sank down into his seat, eyes shutting. Aerith was there a moment later, opening her door and climbing in, asking, surprised, "Where's Hayner?"
"Lunch-bar. He went for a walk," Roxas muttered, rubbing at his eyes, more fatigued than ever. Aerith tutted sympathetically.
"You really do need a rest," she fretted. "Tomorrow, Roxas, take the day off, okay? I'd really rather that you did. You're no good to me if you're like this, anyway."
Roxas found the energy to snort a laugh, peering at her from beyond his palm. "Okay, Aerith. Since I'm so desperate to be useful and all." She rolled her eyes, started the van up.
"So, Hayner's at the lunch-bar?"
"Hmm." Roxas leaned against the window, listening to Aerith mutter about picking up errant strays. He was sleepy, wanted to shut his eyes, but fear kept him buzzing beyond his tiredness. His gaze darted back and forth from his position against the glass, glittering in the sunlight, searching anxiously for sign of that person, that man, the one that was making Roxas' life suddenly so damn difficult. He didn't see him. At no point did he catch sight of those scarlet spikes… but he had to be there – that Tidus guy hadn't just made the story up.
However, as they paused at the side of the road, Hayner getting in silently, shoving his way into the middle and buckling up… Roxas did catch sight of someone.
A brunet. A boy with spikes, standing several metres down the street, at a cross-walk. He didn't look like he was trying to cross, though… he just stood there, frowning over at where Roxas sat. His eyes, Roxas could tell even from a distance, were blue, almost as much as his own. Their gazes locked, a shiver passing down the blond's spine, something arcing through the air between them. Some… kind of familiarity, a spark of recognition. Try as he might, Roxas couldn't think where he'd seen that face before, only that he had.
He had seen that face, seen those eyes… somewhere distant and disconnected. As if they'd been brothers in a prior lifetime. It was like – looking at a piece of himself, from somewhere along the line.
He wanted to grab Hayner's arm and shake it, beckon him urgently to press his face to the glass and look out at the brunet, ask him where they had seen this creature before. Where? When?
But, as it was, he could only sit mutely and stare, endure as the other did the same.
Aerith changed gears, pulled out into the pace and hum of the traffic. Just like that, the boy was cut from sight, and no amount of craning on Roxas' behalf could bring that sliver of pavement back into sight. He reached out, ready to wind the window desperately down, but his fingers paused as he touched the hard plastic. He stopped, and wondered, with bewilderment, what he was doing. His reflection was facing him, mirror-image of confusion. Wasn't he meant to be keeping a low profile? Keeping out of view of the redheaded stalker?
He drew back, settled agitatedly into his seat, arm pressing against Hayner, but the other blond acting distant. He didn't even notice Roxas' brief flurry of energy, didn't pick up on the distress that had blossomed from when he'd realised he was being actively followed. Roxas slumped, finally, fingers swinging around to press his eyes shut. The van rumbled, swooped in and out of the other vehicles, eventually found the highway and smoothed out into high speeds. It was a relief to not be spending the trip cooped up in the back, as much as he'd have appreciated the closed-in quality right now, more even than ever.
For a while, the blond gave in to exhaustion, and slumbered fitfully against the window, rolling and bumping with the twists and turns they took along the way. He woke briefly, at one point, when they took one turn particularly sharply, a cat having paused mid-run across the road, causing Aerith to hiss and jerk the wheel. Hayner's hand automatically gripped him, kept him steady, though the taller boy's expression, when Roxas looked blearily over, was still as rock-steady sullen as ever. He dozed again, and didn't wake fully until they reached Twilight Town. He felt as much as heard the engine slow, the van traversing the night traffic with ease, Aerith confidently swinging into the back roads, taking them coasting to a halt in the alleyway behind the store. A pool of orange illumination flooded down from streetlight situated directly over them, turning them various shades of sepia as they clambered out. Aerith patted each of them on the shoulder, whispering, as if it were incredibly late instead of only a quarter to nine, "Sleep well, boys, thank you for all your effort today. I appreciate it. I'll check to make sure the shop is fine, but you two head home, okay?" With a sweet smile, she opened the gate, slipped into the yard, the lock slipping shut with an audible click that left the blonds alone. They stood there for a moment, watching where she had stood, before Hayner turned on heel, started walking away without a word.
Wearily, Roxas wondered what it was about that whole marriage comment that had affected him as deeply as all this. The way things were going, Hayner was going to turn around and tell him that Olette had got engaged to Seifer when he wasn't paying attention. Limbs heavy, the blond set off after his friend at a jog. "Hayner." His voice travelled and echoed in the stillness of the alleyway, the night. The other boy didn't respond, eliciting a sigh of exasperation from Roxas. He called again, more insistently, "Hayner!" Catching up, he grabbed hold of the other's sleeve, stopped him with a tug, earning a twist of the head and a sharp glare.
"What do you want? I'm going home. I don't have time to pander to you right now."
Roxas didn't flinch like he once would've, more than accustomed to the harsh poison Hayner was capable of when he turned out like this. "Look, I know you're not happy with me right now," he said, receiving a snort and then a bitter laugh in response, "but I need to stay at your place for a while." His tone was intent enough to still a little of the wry derision in the boy's hazel eyes. When no argument was forthcoming, Roxas took this as his cue to press on, but hesitated briefly before continuing. The words, when he said them, were a winding version of truth: "I don't want to leave you alone like this, Hay."
There came a growl, the taller one wrenching free, starting to stomp away. "I don't need your help."
"Maybe not." Roxas pursued in his footsteps, persisting, "But that doesn't mean I don't want to make sure you're okay. Right?"
"Not right," Hayner replied dully. "Leave me alone."
At times like this, it really was wisest to leave the blond alone, leave him to his own devices, something Roxas had learned. He felt guilty that it took his own needs to spur him enough to not just give up in the face of a complete and utter brick wall. "I'm going to follow you," he vowed, legs having to struggle slightly to keep up with Hayner's naturally longer strides, "and if you leave me standing outside, I'll howl and complain until the neighbours call the cops." They were on the main road now, the lights of The Usual Spot, open for late business, blazing across the street as they walked uphill.
"Leave. Me. Alone," Hayner bit off impatiently, eyes averting from the restaurant as they passed. Roxas glanced over, wondering if Olette was working tonight. "I wish I didn't know you, you're like a freaking puppy always needing someone to pick up its shit and give it a bowl of milk."
Roxas clicked his teeth together, followed Hayner for several more minutes without speaking, figuring he'd just trail him without permission. This was foiled when, as they rounded a quiet corner, Hayner whirled, brought his fists up, and snarled, "If you don't piss off, right now, I'll fucking pin you to the wall!"
Roxas blinked rapidly, thought processes down as he attempted a smirk, said, "I knew you couldn't wait to pin – " A fist slammed into the soft flesh of his gut, doubling him over. His fingers leapt up, sinking nails into the other blond's arm, dragging until they were buried deep enough to stop against the flesh. They stayed like that for a minute, neither one moving, a frozen tableau of violence, Roxas curled over Hayner's knuckles.
"I'm not going back to my place," the blue-eyed blond gritted out breathlessly. "I'm coming home with you, Hayner. Don't make me sleep on the doorstep."
Shifting, Hayner withdrew his fist, but didn't let Roxas drop, holding his shoulder. After all, he got angry during his own episodes – but he, unlike Roxas, didn't just flat-out stop caring. "I think you're full of shit," he said bluntly. "But I guess the one thing pathetic little puppies can always count on is some poor fucking sap taking them in, right?" He pushed Roxas against the wall, turned away, hands digging into pockets, and resumed walking. After a long moment, throbbing in several places, traces of blood under his fingernails, Roxas straightened, a little wobbly, and followed. It wasn't going to be a fun night, and he sure as hell wasn't welcome – but at least he could spend a few hours with his eyes shut, not worrying that anyone was going to come breaking in through the door.