A/N: I kinda took an unexpected hiatus there, but now I'm baaaaack! That's the good news. The bad news is that I can't exactly promise how speedy my next few updates will be. Unfortunately, adult-ing takes priority over writing and I've got a couple things going on right now that might keep me from you lovely people for a little while. Just please bear with me and I'll greatly appreciate it! :)


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Chapter six

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Riku had promised Sora that the Kairi situation would soon be resolved. He was still a little uncertain as to how, exactly, but Sora didn't usually have an issue with putting blind trust in people — especially when that person happened to be his best friend. He firmly believed that Riku must've been concocting some sort of master plan that he was waiting to reveal in the grandest of fashions.

So Sora waited. And waited. And waited.

But then the inevitable impatience started trickling in. The first day of silent treatment from Kairi was slightly torturous, but bearable. Sora and Riku sat at their lunch table alone, lamenting about the trials and tribulations that accompanied a friendship with a teenaged girl. Sora walked home after school by himself when Riku had track practice, careful to avoid their usual trek past the beach. Kairi had even convinced her friend Selphie to trade seats with her in History class so that she didn't have to endure sitting beside Sora for fifty excruciatingly awkward minutes.

It was only the second day when Sora's emotional stability really started to unravel. On that Tuesday evening, he called Riku in a panic.

"I know they say it's only a myth," Sora began in a voice that sounded more than a little choked up. "But do you think that anyone's actually ever died from heartbreak?"

Riku, who wasn't used to dishing out so much friendly comfort, tried not to sigh directly into the receiver. "The only thing that's breaking is your sanity."

"It's been three days and twenty-one hours since it happened —" On the other end, Riku snorted. "C'mon, Riku, she hasn't said anything to you about this?"

The silver-haired boy balanced his cell between his shoulder and ear as he finished up washing the dishes that had piled up in the sink. "Not a word. And when I try to bring it up, all I get is some lame excuse about how she needs to suddenly meet for a student council meeting or hurry home to feed her cat."

"Kairi doesn't even have a cat," said Sora after a brief pause.

This time, Riku did sigh into the receiver. "So not the time, Sora…"

"Hey, I have an idea!" Sora exclaimed with a sudden bout of inspiration. Riku mentally braced himself for what was about to be said because his friend's ideas very often lacked tact and strategy. "What if I wrote her a letter? Girls love it when we use all those fancy words to tell them how sorry we are, right?"

Riku quirked a skeptical brow and, although Sora couldn't see, it was more than evident in his tone. "And then are you going to send it by carrier pigeon?"

"I'm being serious, Riku!" Sora huffed.

"So am I," the other boy countered. "I know it sucks to admit it, but this is one conversation that you gotta have face to face."

Sora flopped backwards onto his bed and grumbled up at the ceiling, "Yeah, well, you're kinda forgetting that she hates my face right now. She won't even come within a hundred mile radius of me."

Riku put down the soapy dish in his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, sensing a migraine coming on. This had to be worse than the time clumsy seven-year-old Sora accidentally tripped over Kairi's elaborate sandcastle and Riku had to hold a vicious peer-mediation session until the girl agreed to stop chucking seashells at the poor boy's head. This was much worse and it called for desperate measures.

"Well," Riku began as casually as possible. "How about you come over tomorrow night? I can take you up on that offer to help me with dinner while we brainstorm some plans. Deal?"

Sora rolled over onto his stomach, mumbling impatiently. He'd gone through this much Kairi-less torture already, so what was the harm in one more day?

"Okay, deal."


For as long as Roxas could remember, he'd only ever belonged to one lunch table — Hayner, Pence, and Olette's — which suited him just fine. After all, Roxas wasn't the most sociable of butterflies at Destiny High.

Which is why he found it very strange when he began dividing his attention among three different lunch locations.

There would always be his three best friends, who were all very supportive of Roxas' new relationships. Even Hayner, much to the blond's surprise — despite the fact that his encouragement only stemmed from his excitement to turn the semester into some kind of pseudo spy mission. And then there was the Organization. Roxas was proud to admit that he'd almost completely memorized everyone's name, even if the only person who ever really spoke to him at the table was Axel.

Lastly, but certainly not least, there was Namine. Roxas' infatuation and hormone-ridden mind told him that he enjoyed those lunches the most. The blonde girl spent her lunch period in the vacant art classroom, which wasn't a typical hangout for Roxas, but he was happy to join her on the days when he wasn't already committed to his other friends.

They'd chat over their lunches and, in Namine's case, her latest art assignment. Sometimes Roxas would humor her and create his own art project, which usually only consisted of colored pencil stick figures on old construction paper from the scrap bin. His attempts always seemed to make Namine smile so, in his opinion, it was well worth the effort.

"Oh, my god," Roxas complained, dropping his colored pencil to give his dominant hand a good shake. "Is it normal to get so many hand cramps?"

Namine giggled over her canvas, "You get used to it after a while. It just takes time."

"Well, I think I'll leave the art projects to you, then," he held up his scrap paper to reveal his creation, which looked no different than the result of a hyperactive toddler with crayons. "I don't think I have the gift."

"But your stick figures show a lot of promise," she told him before they both started laughing.

Roxas leaned back in his chair and unceremoniously pushed his art supplies away. He already had his fair share of embarrassment for one lunch period. Glancing over at Namine's canvas, he watched as the blank background started gaining color with every masterful stroke of the girl's brush.

"I don't get how yours end up looking so amazing," he mused. "It just looks like random brush strokes to me."

"There's actually a method to this madness," Namine grinned. Her eyes flickered away from her work — such a simple gesture that Roxas knew meant more than it would to the average person — and seemed to beckon him toward her. "Would you like to see?"

For a brief moment, he just blinked mindlessly as if she could've possibly been speaking to someone else in the room. Seeing as they were the only two occupants, however, the blond responded with a tentative step forward. "Do you have any experience dealing with hopeless cases?"

Namine shook her head of golden tresses and said, "No, but I happen to be an excellent teacher so just come over here, silly."

The corner of Roxas' lip twitched upward as he closed the rest of the distance between them. He stood over Namine's shoulder, staring down at her artwork that was far more intimidating than a canvas ought to be. The small girl offered Roxas her paintbrush and he accepted it with a clumsy grip as her own hand wrapped around his. He could feel his heartbeat inside his ears, but still allowed Namine to lead his limp hand around the painting. He wasn't actually doing anything — all of the credit and skill belonged to Namine — but Roxas still felt honored that she would willingly share a moment of such intimacy.

"See?" Namine said as she continued to move Roxas' hand over the canvas. "The strokes are very gentle and go from dark to light."

But the boy was more focused on his close proximity to Namine than her exquisite painting technique. Her rose-scented hair was right under his nose and her soft hand was carefully holding his own. He could even feel her back rising and falling against his chest as she breathed.

"I — yeah. I guess that kinda makes sense," he muttered. It didn't.

"It's more noticeable in some of the earlier expressionism pieces," Namine went on. "We should go visit one of the art museums downtown so I can show you."

Roxas nodded quickly, distractedly. "Oh, yeah. Sounds great."

He could still remember when he was very young, and his parents would take him to see the various museums in the heart of the city. It was an ideal day trip for his mother and father, seeing as it was an activity they could do together that didn't require much interaction. Young Roxas, however, didn't find it quite as ideal. He would nap in his stroller or yank impatiently on his father's pant leg until it was time to go home.

"… don't you think, Roxas?"

The blond boy blinked his faraway eyes as he snapped back to reality. Namine's words had ended expectantly, as if waiting for a response, but Roxas hadn't actually heard what the young girl had been asking him.

"Uh, I'm sorry?" He floundered.

"I asked if you have any objections to getting paint on your nose."

Roxas wrinkled his brow. "Paint on my nose? Why would I get —"

Before another word could be spoken, Namine spun and took the paintbrush with her, quickly dabbing it against the tip of Roxas' nose. The boy barely had time to flinch, but when he realized that a spot of bright red was now covering the center of his face, a grin stretched across his mouth.

"Oh, you're gonna be sorry," he dipped his finger in the paint tray and swiped it across Namine's porcelain cheek in retaliation. The small girl squealed and tried to twist away, but to no avail.

As they waged a playful paint war — giggling and teasing and touching — Roxas decided that he kinda-maybe-almost didn't hate art, after all.


Riku honestly didn't think it was possible, but when he went to open the front door, he found Sora on the other side with his hair even more of a brunet mess than it normally was. His friend was donning sweatpants and an over-sized hoodie on backwards, which was an interesting change from his usual ensemble of t-shirts, cargo shorts, and worn-in sneakers. He was also wearing a deep frown and that, Riku thought, was the most interesting part of all.

"Your hoodie is on backwards," Riku said in lieu of a greeting.

Sora looked downward as if he weren't aware of his fashion faux pas until right that moment. Then he sighed and let his shoulders droop when he glanced back up at Riku. "I guess that explains why my neck was so itchy on the way over here."

Although he'd never admit it, Riku felt a twinge of sympathy for his pitiful friend. That's why he couldn't even pretend to be annoyed when he stepped aside and invited him through the doorway. "Just get inside, idiot."

Sora shuffled into the house and spun around in time to see Riku shutting the front door. "So about this master plan," the brunet began. "I was thinking that maybe we could —"

"Not now," Riku interrupted calmly. He put a hand on Sora's shoulder and led him down the hall to the kitchen. "Dinner first, then we'll talk strategy."

"But —"

"Go into the pantry and get some pasta from the shelf, alright?" The silver-haired boy ushered Sora to the pantry door, which was already slightly ajar. Sora cast a curious glance at his friend, perplexed by his sudden haste, but still did as he was told, slowly opening the pantry door.

"Hey, Riku, is bow tie pasta okay…?"

Sora nearly choked on his own gasp when he opened the door to reveal Kairi. The girl was facing him, box of pasta in hand, and staring as if she'd just experienced an otherworldly encounter.

"K-Kairi?" Sora stuttered incredulously.

She looked as if she were attempting to hide behind the small box of pasta. "Sora, what are you doing here?!"

He fumbled over a few nonsensical syllables before managing, "What are you doing here?"

"Riku invited me over to help with dinner —"

"But he invited me over, too —"

A charging force pushed into Sora's back and catapulted him into the pantry. He cried out, stumbling forward until he knocked into Kairi, sandwiching the girl between his body and the back shelf.

"Riku!" Kairi growled threateningly, but she was too late. The pantry door closed with a resounding slam, trapping them together in the darkness. "Open the door now!"

They both heard the telltale click of the lock. "Not until you two talk it out and fix this," Riku's muffled voice explained from the other side of the door.

"So this was your big master plan?" Sora demanded, stepping back from Kairi and feeling around blindly in the darkness. "Keeping us captive until we worked it out?"

"I didn't have a choice," came Riku's definitive reply. "Look, you two are the ones who decided to go to this stupid ball together. And it's going to be even more stupid if you aren't speaking to each other. I'm sick of being in the middle of this mess and I'm sick of having two best friends who won't even reply to our group chat anymore. So start talking."

There was silence. Kairi turned her head, her eyes adjusting to the darkness well enough so that she could settle her skeptical gaze on Sora.

"Your hoodie is on backwards," she commented after a while.

"Yeah, I know."

If they hadn't been in the midst of an awkward spell, Kairi would've affectionately called him a loser and then Sora would've done something ridiculous like pull his hood over his face until they were both bursting with laughter.

Kairi missed that. Sora missed it, too.

"Hey, Kai," Sora piped up softly, quickly giving in. "I'm really sorry."

To his surprise, it didn't take Kairi long to respond with a sincere, "No, I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing? I'm the idiot who… kissed you," and he spoke the word as if it were the gravest of sins.

"Yeah, but I'm the idiot who overreacted," the auburn haired girl slowly sunk down to take a seat in the corner of the pantry, pulling her knees into her chest. "You just took me by surprise, that's all. I didn't know what to do or what to say — and then I just got too embarrassed to do anything because I thought that maybe you hadn't actually meant to do it."

"I did mean it," Sora answered a little too quickly, making Kairi crack a smile. "I mean, uh… if that's okay with you."

She watched Sora take a seat beside her on the floor. It was easier to see his eyes up close, even with only a small strip of light coming in from under the door, and they were beaming at her with poorly concealed anticipation. "It's definitely okay," said Kairi.

"So," Sora began. "Does this mean that everything's good again?"

"I think this means that everything is perfect," Kairi's hand crawled around until it found Sora's and held it. "And for the record, not talking to you really sucks. A lot."

Sora laughed boisterously because he knew all too well how much he needed Kairi in his life. The past few days had certainly taught him that much. "Yeah, and apparently it makes me forget how to wear clothes, too."

Kairi snorted and tugged playfully on the hood of Sora's hoodie that was still hanging around the front of his neck. There was a silent beat between them where they both just focused on each other's faces — the way their smiles pulled relentlessly on their lips and lit up their eyes.

"Just kiss her already," they heard Riku mutter dryly from outside the door.

The pair inside the pantry were suddenly aware of how close they'd scooted together without even realizing it. They sat hip to hip, hand to hand, their faces mere inches apart. As they both blushed and chuckled in spite of themselves, Sora lifted a hand to gently tangle through Kairi's hair, bringing their lips together for a proper kiss.

They hardly even noticed when Riku unlocked the pantry door about five minutes later.


Namine tried to ignore the fact that a strange car had been following her down the road ever since she left campus to begin her walk home. She kept her head down and didn't dare look back, but the rumbling of the engine still sputtered along from a few feet behind. She contemplated darting down a random alleyway or — under far more severe circumstances — dialing the cops on her cell. However, before she could reach a conclusion, the car sped up beside her and cranked its window down.

"Yo, Goldilocks."

A rush of adrenaline soared through Namine's veins. The voice was unfamiliar and — even worse — slightly menacing. The small girl quickened her footsteps, but the car kept up.

"Aw, don't be that way," the driver said. "I'm just trying to get to know you."

"I have pepper spray," Namine spoke up firmly, still averting her gaze.

The driver seemed to find this statement entertaining. "Well, I'm very happy to hear about your safety precautions, but I don't have any lollipops to lure you in with, so you're shit out of luck."

The blonde girl finally stopped and swirled around to face her antagonist. The driver — and his fiery red mane — was leaning an elbow on the window ledge, steering one-handed as he idled beside Namine. He wore a pair of old-school headphones around his neck and had a lit cigarette hanging out the side of his smirking mouth. The car he drove was more rust than actual car and the entire frame shook even with the radio turned down low. Namine wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"And you are?" She prompted.

"Axel," answered the redhead. "Got it memorized?"

Namine didn't budge. "And what do you want, Axel?"

The older boy smacked a hand to his heart as if he were wounded. "You really know how to make a guy feel special, Namine. Jeez, Roxas told me a lot about you, but he failed to mention the 'tude."

"Roxas?" Namine perked up. "You know Roxas?"

"Blondie, kinda short, the human reincarnation of a Blink-182 song," Axel winked. "That's the one."

Namine surveyed this boy again. She vaguely recognized him as one of those seniors who wore black and only associated with themselves. She wondered what he had to do with Roxas — if he was actually telling the truth, that is. She also wondered why Roxas had never mentioned him before.

"All out of questions, huh?" Axel removed the cigarette from his mouth after a final drag and shoved it into one of his cup holders, which apparently functioned as an ashtray. "Listen — as a good pal of Roxas, I'm taking an interest in his life. Which now includes you, Goldilocks. So, need a ride? Yes or no."

"I can walk, thank you," Namine started down the sidewalk again. Axel revved the engine and slowly crept alongside her.

"Something tells me we got off on the wrong foot here," the redhead tried again. "Roxas aside, I'm just a guy with wheels asking from the goodness of my heart whether or not the lady would like a lift. I do curbside service, y'know."

Namine bit down on her bottom lip in contemplation. Her initial reaction might've been to turn away, but if this boy actually was a friend of Roxas, then he must possess some redeeming qualities. The tiny blonde said nothing — just held her head high and found her way into the passenger seat of Axel's car.

"'Atta girl," he praised, reaching over to turn up the radio a bit. "Where to?"

"Atlantica Avenue," Namine replied distractedly. She was much too busy examining the inside of Axel's car with disdain. Everything smelled like smoke and she counted at least three empty bags of chips just on the first glance.

They sped off down the street, Axel's rusty car groaning in protest every time he pressed the accelerator. "So tell me, Namine," Axel raised an eyebrow with mock intimidation. "What exactly are your intentions with dear Roxas?"

"He's a good friend," Namine explained, vaguely regretting her decision to get in the car as she watched the speedometer fall much past the speed limit.

Axel clicked his tongue softly. "Already brutally friend-zoning him? Give a guy a chance, will ya? I can vouch for his good character."

Namine idly thought that praise of good character coming from the likes of Axel didn't exactly mean much. "I know that he's a great person, but that's honestly all we are right now — just friends."

"Shame," the senior murmured as he took a sharp turn. "'Cause the kid's got it bad for you."

The blonde girl blushed and looked down at her hands neatly folded in her lap. "Really?"

Axel smirked. "I wouldn't lie — scout's honor."

The rest of the trip was silent — except for Axel quietly singing along with the radio — much to Namine's relief. Her mind was now swimming with the prospect of the redhead's words being true. Did Roxas actually like her? More importantly, did she like Roxas?

"Like I said, curbside service," Axel rolled up slowly in front of Namine's house.

The girl shouldered her bag. "Thank you, Axel."

"I accept tips in the form of sexual favors."

Namine froze, turned, and stared at him.

"Kidding. Joke. Not actually a thing," Axel shook his head. "Jeez, the sense of humor needs a little work, Goldilocks. Got it memorized?"

"Goodbye, Axel," Namine got out of the car and shut the door before hurrying up her driveway.

She flinched when she heard him suddenly turn up the radio to full volume and take off down the street with his rusty tires screeching.

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to be continued

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A/N: As you can probably tell, the theme of this chapter is 'OH AXEL'.

Again, thanks for your patience, everyone. I'll do my best to get back on track soon!