A/N: A big 'ol THANK YOU to everyone who's been reading/reviewing the fic so far! I'm glad that people seem to be excited about the revamp. :) I probably won't be getting much writing done for the next week because my parents are coming to town for a visit, so I wanted to get this next chapter up before I get busy with all my family shenanigans. Enjoy, everyone!
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Chapter five
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It was almost seven 'o clock when Roxas heard the doorbell from where he sat on the living room couch. He pulled his attention away from a particularly gripping re-run of CSI: Miami long enough to lock eyes with his mother, who perked up from behind the kitchen counter with a bowl of mashed potatoes in hand.
Tonight was the night. More specifically, tonight was the night that Roxas had been dreading since the beginning of the week. Despite his best attempts to get out of another dismal 'family dinner' with Mr. Dental Hygienist, his mother was adamant that he put his best foot forward and join them. Roxas could think of a million other things he'd rather be doing — strangling himself with a piece of dental floss being among them — but he had some peace of mind knowing that the evening wouldn't be a complete waste. After all, he was somewhat curious to see what kind of creep his mother was inviting over this time around.
"I'll get it," Roxas jumped to his feet, but was halted by his mother.
"No, no, I will," she insisted frantically. "Do me a favor and start setting the table, will you, kiddo?"
His mother set the bowl of food down and stepped out from behind the counter, smoothing out the bottom of her mini skirt. Roxas' face contorted into discontent. Holly Eberhardt had only been seventeen years old when she had Roxas — one of the many reasons why her marriage with his father had failed, he liked to believe — so her affinity toward skin-tight apparel wasn't entirely surprising. Still, she was his mother and no matter how young she was, Roxas couldn't stand the sight of her dressing like some eager-to-impress teenager.
He sighed in reply and started making his way into the kitchen as the doorbell rang for a second time. Holly gave her blonde hair a final fluff and then hurried to the front door. Roxas set out three plates at the dinner table, consciously avoiding the seat that his father used to occupy when he still lived at home. All he could hear were the muffled voices from the foyer.
"Come in, come in!"
"Holly, you're looking positively delicious tonight…"
Roxas heard the telltale smack of lip against lip, followed by his mother's giggle.
"Oh, stop that! Here, the kitchen's this way."
Roxas tried not to gag on the spot. He hadn't even seen this man yet, but he could already surmise that he was a tool. As soon as they stepped into the kitchen, his suspicions were confirmed.
His mother was clinging to the arm of a man who stood at roughly six feet tall. His dirty blond hair was trimmed short around his face — which appeared to be permanently frozen into a smirk — and a pair of black RayBan sunglasses were perched on the top of his head. He wore a crisp button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tucked into fitted jeans.
"This is Seifer — Dr. Almasy," Holly introduced like a smitten pre-teen. "And this is my son, Roxas."
The man took a confident step forward and reached out a hand. "So we finally meet, huh, kid?"
Roxas barely blinked. He stood motionlessly on the other side of the table and stared distastefully at Seifer's offered hand.
Holly began to laugh, clearly an attempt to fill the tense silence that followed. "Roxas, honey, remember to mind your manners."
"Welcome to our home, doctor," he muttered through tight lips as he finished up the last place setting at the table.
Seifer cleared his throat and retracted his hand stiffly. "Just, uh — call me Seifer, kid."
Roxas walked past the couple to make a beeline for the kitchen when his mother clapped her hands together resolutely. "Alright, then! Sweetheart, you take a seat at the table while I give Roxas a hand with the food."
She trailed closely behind her son until they were safely out of earshot. Then she grabbed Roxas' wrist, pulled him to a halt, and whispered venomously at his unamused expression, "Listen up, young man. I don't know what on earth you're trying to do here, but you better start behaving yourself —"
"Mom, he's wearing a pair of sunglasses on his head to dinner," he pointed out exasperatedly.
The remark went unacknowledged. "I really like this guy, so, for once, I need you to think about my happiness."
Roxas wanted to scream with laughter. He wanted to tell his mom that every single decision made in their household was for her happiness. He wanted to tell her that her selfishness often got in the way of her parenting and that, ever since the divorce, she'd been the most careless mother he's ever known.
But he remained silent.
"And it wouldn't kill you to make a little pleasant conversation tonight," Holly added with a stern look as she grabbed the salad bowl off the counter and disappeared into the dining room.
The blond boy could hear his mother cheerfully greet her boyfriend as she entered the room. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, glancing down to notice that his knuckles had turned a bit white from gripping the edge of the countertop. Tonight was already proving to be more difficult than he originally thought. Defeatedly, Roxas carried the remaining plates of food out to the table where he found his mother sitting beside Seifer, serving him a helping of tossed salad and giggling like a fool.
Roxas dropped the plates onto the table a bit too roughly and then plopped himself down into the chair across from Seifer.
"So, kid, your mom tells me that you're in high school," the doctor began as Holly started scooping mashed potatoes onto his plate.
"Um, yeah."
"How's that goin' for you? You a sports man like I was?" He turned his proud smirk onto Roxas' mother and winked. "Traverse High football. Varsity fullback, 1999."
Roxas tried not to gag. Holly, however, grinned appreciatively and began filling her own plate with food. "I've tried to convince him to go out for some teams, but he just doesn't —"
"I wanna be a writer," the boy spoke up pointedly, glancing up from his plate where he'd been pushing a forkful of salad around aimlessly. "I'm interested in writing."
"Writing?" Seifer appeared to stifle a chuckle through a mouthful of over-cooked chicken, as if he'd never heard the word before. Roxas wouldn't be surprised if that were true. "What do you plan on doing with a degree in that?"
Roxas could feel his patience wearing thinner and thinner by the second. He wanted nothing more than to throw his fork across the table at that pompous smirk, but, instead, he answered curtly, "Write things."
"Write things, he says!" Seifer howled with laughter, nudging Holly with his elbow, and then pointed his fork directly at Roxas. "The kid's still young. He's got some time to figure things out."
"He's just so stubborn, no matter how much I try to encourage him," Holly chimed in.
"I'm right here. I can still hear you —"
"So tell me, kid," Seifer interrupted with a lifted brow. "You got a girlfriend?"
The question caught him off-guard. It came, seemingly, out of nowhere, but the blond could tell that the man's cocky disposition meant that he was attempting to prove some kind of point. After a moment or two of fumbling over his words, he responded, "Uh, no."
"Well, maybe you would if you played sports and spoke up a little more, huh?" Seifer, again, turned to Holly with riotous laughter and — much to Roxas' outrage — his mother actually joined in.
And just like that, Roxas could feel his remaining composure snap in half like a small twig. The blond boy dropped his fork, letting it clamor loudly against his plate, and shot a dangerous look at his mother. "Are you seriously not gonna do anything about this?"
Holly's laughter stopped instantly, but Seifer continued chortling to himself while the woman met her son's intense glare. "Roxas," she warned.
"No," he said firmly. "I don't care about how much you like this guy, mom. I'm not just gonna sit here while he talks to me like —"
Seifer's gaze was suddenly steely. "Hey, now, listen here, kid —"
"Roxas!" He roared, surprising everyone at the table — including himself — by jumping to his feet and slamming his palms onto the tabletop. "My name is Roxas, not kid. And, no, I don't play football or have a girlfriend and I don't give a shit what you think about it."
Holly stood next. "Roxas, that's enough!"
"Oh, so now you're gonna act like the responsible adult around here?" He continued, averting his rabid tangent toward his mother. "You don't have to pretend anymore, mom, I know you don't care. You don't care about anything but yourself and that's exactly why dad left us!"
He hardly heard any of the uproar that occurred after that. Roxas could feel his legs taking him away — fast. He ran through the kitchen, the hallway, and out the door in a blur. The salty outside air whipped against his skin as he grabbed his skateboard off the front porch and glided down the street. His muscles burned with exertion, but that was the least of his troubles.
Maybe he'd skate to Hayner's and ask to sleep on the couch in his basement. He never seemed to mind, anyway.
"… Hold up."
"You heard me."
"You seriously…?"
"I know."
"You kissed her?"
Sora groaned remorsefully and let his head fall back against the row of lockers with a heavy thud. He had expected this kind of reaction from Riku after telling him what happened with Kairi, but that didn't make it any easier. The three of them had always been the best of friends — kissing just seemed like crossing some kind of line. Even though it had felt so strangely right at the time.
"I know," the brunet repeated. "I did that thing I always do where I don't think things through before I just do them."
Riku nodded as he removed his chemistry textbook from his locker and stuffed it into his bag. Knowing Sora for a majority of his life had given him extensive knowledge about the boy's particular brand of impulsiveness. "And then what happened?"
"She looked really confused… Upset, maybe? And then we just went to sleep without talking about it," Sora explained, feeling his stomach drop at the mere memory of that evening. "The next morning was so awkward. We barely even looked at each other when she was getting ready to leave. And that's another thing — she just left. She didn't even stay for breakfast or anything. We always make pancakes together, Riku!"
Sora was verging on hysterical as he grabbed onto Riku's arm. The silver-haired boy gave his friend a pointed look and shut his locker door. "You're going to drive yourself even more insane than you already are. You know that, right?"
Riku started down the hallway, Sora falling into step beside him. "Why are you being so weirdly calm about all this? What if I ruined everything?"
"And what if you didn't?" Riku challenged. The sly grin spreading across his face made Sora squirm. "If I'm being completely honest, I always thought there was something going on between you two."
"What…?" Sora's eyes bulged in shock and his face flushed a vibrant shade of red. "And you thought that now would be a good time to bring that up?"
Riku shrugged. "Well, why not? It's as good a time as any."
They continued to walk and Sora suddenly fell silent, but Riku could practically hear the gears turning around inside his friend's head. As they approached their classroom, Sora finally spoke up in an uncharacteristically soft tone, "So you don't… you don't mind if…?"
The taller boy came to a stop outside the doorway and placed an earnest hand on Sora's shoulder. "You're both my best friends. I don't mind as long as you're both happy."
The brunet's troubled expression quickly lifted into a bright, grateful smile. He lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Riku's waist in a vise grip. "Thanks, Riku, you're the best."
Riku, even after years of experiencing Sora's tendency for affectionate physical contact, was still taken aback by the hug. He patted the boy on the back and chuckled good-naturedly. "Don't mention it."
The pair broke apart just as a familiar blur of auburn hair rounded the corner. Riku waved as Kairi speeded past them in the hall, but Sora appeared to be momentarily shellshocked. Kairi smiled in return, and her posture immediately tensed once she locked eyes with the brunet.
"Hey, Kairi!" Sora called out a bit too eagerly. The girl resembled a startled animal as she quickly shuffled past her friends and disappeared down the hall.
Sora released another miserable groan, but Riku was quick to retaliate with a dose of reassuring words, "C'mon, it's freaking me out to see you so stressed. Everything's going to be fine."
"How do you know?" Sora wondered pitifully.
"Because you have me on your team," replied Riku with a confident smirk, extending his fist toward Sora. "Right?"
Sora took a moment to examine Riku's gesture of camaraderie, but then, in his usual resilient nature, perked up with a determined grin of his own.
"Right," he agreed heartily, meeting Riku's hand in an enthusiastic fist bump.
Axel slid a venti-sized coffee cup toward Roxas when the blond boy took a seat at the Organization's lunch table, allowing his forehead to drop down against the cold surface.
"If your Friday night really sucked as much as you say it did, then I thought you might need a little something," the redhead explained with dramatic sympathy.
Roxas said nothing, but blindly reached out a hand to grab the cup of coffee.
"So," Axel began. "Not one of your better family dinners, eh?"
"I told my mom what a miserable parent I think she is, screamed at her prick of a boyfriend, stormed out of the house, and didn't come back until Sunday morning. So, yeah, it sucked balls."
"Man, what I would've paid to be a fly on the wall for that," Axel mused. Roxas lifted his head to throw a sharp glare in his friend's direction. "Oh, right. Sorry. Supportive friend. Yay, Roxas!"
The blond sighed as he brought the cup to his lips, but wound up nearly choking on the liquid as it burned its way down his throat. "Is there alcohol in this?"
Axel scrunched his nose noncommittally. "A teeny, tiny bit of whiskey to take the edge off."
Roxas stared uneasily at the drink. He had a hunch that there was much more than a teeny, tiny bit. With a shrug, he took another sip. "You know," he said, bringing the cup to eye level and examining it aimlessly. "Sometimes I wish I could just run away. For good."
The older boy leaned his chin into his palm with intrigue. "Oh, yeah? And where exactly would you run off to?"
He hadn't given it much serious thought, but, somehow, the answer came to him immediately. "Maybe to Twilight Town so I could live with my dad."
"Remind me again why you haven't already ditched the crazy lady to live with this amazing dad of yours," Axel smirked.
"He's just really busy. I'm sure that's it," Roxas explained. "Sometimes I'll call or send him an email, but he doesn't always have time to reply."
Axel considered his friend's words. He didn't have much experience with good fathers himself, but he figured that they should at least make time to contact their sons. Still, Roxas seemed to be adamantly holding onto his remaining shreds of hope — the hope that one day his father would call him back. Whether Axel found it admirable or foolish, he wasn't quite sure.
"Well, that makes two of us with incognito dads," the senior remarked with a nonchalant wave of his hand. "Mine was hauled away ten years ago after an illegal drug bust. Haven't seen or heard from him since."
The offhandedness of Axel's confession made Roxas' jaw drop open. "But I thought you said you didn't have a family."
"Hey, I wasn't lying," Axel secured his gaze on his friend's bewildered face. "Sure, I've got parents, but a family isn't supposed to let you down. Got it memorized?"
Roxas nodded slowly, wordlessly.
"So whenever you plan on making your grand escape to Twilight Town," he jabbed his thumb into his chest with a grin. "Count me in."
The blond smiled back. He knew that his runaway was nothing but a reckless pipe dream, but it gave him a bit more strength knowing that he had a loyal friend on his side.
"You bet."
"You're painting again," Namine pointed out as she stood in the doorway of her studio.
It wasn't a studio, exactly. It was the unused guest bedroom that she'd unofficially turned into a makeshift art room, complete with standing easels, utensils, and a large desk for sketching. Namine tended to be the only person who ever stepped foot inside the room, but that afternoon she entered to find her mother sitting before a half-painted canvas, brush in hand.
"I hope you don't mind that I'm using your supplies," her mother said kindly.
Namine had inherited many traits from her mother, Evangeline. Both ladies were long and slender with ocean-colored eyes and wispy blonde hair. And although the physical attributes were nothing to complain about, it was her mother's artistic skill that Namine strived to mimic the most. In her younger years, Evangeline was a commissioned artist who sold her paintings to various venues around the Island and even a few in the downtown museums. After her daughter was born, however, her artistic endeavors became purely recreational. Namine hadn't seen her mother with a paint brush in hand for years, despite having such fond childhood memories of twirling around her backyard while Evangeline painted the scene with a smile. It was a memory that would remain happy forever, immortalized in one of her mother's masterpieces.
"I don't mind," Namine insisted as she pulled up a stool beside her mother to watch. The woman's hand still moved with perfect precision and poise after all the years. "I just wasn't expecting to ever find you in here again."
"Oh, don't exaggerate," Evangeline said, never faltering in her careful brush strokes. "It's only been about…"
Namine smiled patiently. "Ten years, mom."
Her mother shook her head fondly. "You remember everything, mon petit bijou."
"I'm just very astute," said the young girl.
"Well, that makes two of us," Evangeline glanced to the side at her daughter. "I did happen to notice that boy who walked you home the other day."
Namine immediately began to squirm, her blonde locks falling around her face to hide her blushing cheeks. "Mother."
The woman's silvery laughter filled the room. "He was very cute. Is he someone special?"
"His name is Roxas," Namine admitted softly. "And he's a… special friend."
Evangeline peeled her gentle eyes away from her canvas, grinning knowingly. "I'm very happy to hear that you're making some good friends. Your father and I were hoping that you would."
"But Dad isn't here," Namine was quick to remind her.
"He will be soon," her mother's fluid hand finally came to a halt in front of the canvas. "He comes home in a week, Nami."
Namine just wrung her fingers together as she murmured a quiet, "I know."
"The doctors have all said that he's made great improvement," Evangeline continued. "We should both be very proud of him."
"I am," Namine nodded slowly, though her voice was small and distant.
Like a soft breeze, Evangeline stood from her seat and leaned over to cup Namine's cheek in her pale hand. She looked her daughter in the eye — blue meeting blue — and promised firmly, "Nothing is going to hurt my beautiful girl. I'll make sure of it."
Nerves were still tugging relentlessly inside Namine's mind, but if there was anyone in the world to trust, it was her mother. She managed to lift the corners of her mouth as Evangeline retracted her hand and exited the room. Namine shifted to get a better look at the nearly completed canvas resting on the easel. It was the view from their window, colored and blended into a seamless hue. The clouds floated against the sea of blue expanse and dark specks depicted birds on their journey through the endless sky.
It was another moment that would remain perfect, forever captured on the canvas.
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to be continued
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