CHAPTER EIGHT

"First you're talking about leaving home, then you're disappearing from school without a word – no one knew where you were, Roxas! What's next? What happened to my little boy?"

Roxas counted the ceiling stars, reached two hundred and started again. Things were falling apart. Since the moment he'd first tasted the idea of freedom, things had been slowly but certainly grinding out of place.

What happened to her little boy? Try checking last week, mom. He's lost back there, and if Axel got his way, last week's Roxas wouldn't be back. Come to think of it, neither would today's.

Axel would turn up. He would. He'd be at school in the morning. He would.

So why the hell couldn't Roxas sleep? It was past midnight, his window was open a crack, and every stray noise had him leaping up to peer out. Any one of them could have been the redhead prowling around below – of course, though, none of them were. Trust this to be the one promise he kept.

By two, Roxas had had enough. He couldn't handle being cooped up any longer. He pulled his jacket on over his t-shirt and went for a walk.

Breaths steaming out in puffs, he slowly circled the sleeping block. He thought about Naminé's watch – it really was identical to the one Axel always wore, before he threw caution to the wind, crushed it, and went missing twenty-four hours later. Why did those goddamn little timepieces have to be such nagging little bitches? Did they always have to lure away the one person giving him hope?

His thoughts came full-circle, as usual, to Axel. Axel, saying, "I'm sick of it. I'm not denying I won't get in trouble later, but it's nothing I can't handle."

Same old questions revolving round and round, met the same resounding inner silence. Roxas sighed – it wasn't even worth considering anymore. Instead of questions, he decided to stick with facts: fact one? Axel wasn't around. Deal with it. Fact two: he avoided talking about his family, and didn't want Roxas to know where he lived. Fact three: he had worn a watch that went off at random intervals, forcing him to leave any situation almost immediately. Fact four: the one time he ignored the mysterious summons, Axel later went missing.

No one had called to excuse him from school. No one was answering the home phone.

It was the icy early morning of the third day. The cold air must have been good for his mind; this was the quietest it had been in days. Roxas dug his hands deep into his pockets, fists knocking lightly against his hips with each step.

Fact: he didn't want to live in Twilight Town any longer than he had to.

"How could you do this to your mother and me? We do everything we can for you, and you choose now to decide it's not good enough?"

"I never said it wasn't good enough…"

"You're acting like a child, Roxas!"

But until Axel had come along, it – it literally had never occurred to him to try and leave. He had resigned himself to a desperately empty life. If Naminé had never run off, maybe they'd have been dating now, planning their lives together…

It had been nice, seeing her again. Especially knowing that she had escaped – she was just like him. Between her and Axel, he was now sure that, wherever his path led, it would take him far away from home. He belonged out there, free. All he had to do was find the redhead. The usual avenues hadn't worked, as pathetic as his attempts had been.

Fact: the school had his goddamn details, and Roxas intended to obtain them.

Still – it didn't do him much good now. The crickets were noisy tonight, littering the bushes every step of the way. Roxas was glad it wasn't summer – with the hot weather, the creepy crawlies liked to come out onto the pavement at night, only to be crunched underfoot. It was a bad enough experience with shoes.

The moon was high and sallow, the stars winking silently to one another. Roxas missed the warmth of an arm around his shoulders. Eventually, he found himself back in front of home, and didn't want to go inside. Didn't want to return to pretending that his life was going to stay the same. He went in anyway – after all, it wasn't going to last much longer.

His time here was limited.

.o.O.o.

The next morning, Roxas was called out of PE to see the principal, and accept his punishment for skipping school. He felt like an idiot. He was way too old to be intimidated by this process. It was like they were treating him like a naughty child. The whole thing was tiresome and unnecessary.

He sat impatiently throughout the serious, stern lecture, endured, "bright young man," and "model student" and, "shocked and disappointed". It was as though all figures of authority had gathered and spent the hours he'd been missing writing speeches for each other using all the same damn clichés.

His nails were picking incessantly at the fabric covering the arm of the chair when the diatribe finally wound to a conclusion. "Well, Roxas? Do you understand everything I've said to you?"

It was spoken in English, wasn't it? "Yes, sir."

The man eyed him doubtfully. "Roxas, I feel like there's something going on with you, and it pains both me and your parents that, whatever it is, you're not finding a way to ask for help."

The blond bit back the impulse to snap something scathing. "There's really nothing," he said flatly. Then he sat forward in sudden interest. "There is something you could help me with, though."

The principal adopted a wary expression at the intentness of the boy. "What did you have in mind?" he asked cautiously.

"Axel," said Roxas firmly. "He's the new guy. He hasn't been at school this week, and I'm worried. I want to know where he lives. I want to check on him."

Comprehension lightened the man's features. "You were his mentor…" He frowned. "Roxas – "

"I know it's against school policy," he cut in, eyes squeezed shut in frustration. "But I'm worried about him."

"It's only been three days."

"A lot can happen in three days," Roxas snapped, eyes flashing open again.

The man thought about the request. "Is there any specific reason that you're so worried?"

Roxas hesitated. "I don't know for sure. He – refuses to talk about his family. But he was planning to be here Monday. I saw him just the night before, and he was fine. I just – I want to make sure he's okay. It's not like I'll tell anyone else his address. And we're friends, so it's not like I wouldn't be welcome…"

"This is… an unusual request, considering what you're here for," he observed, one eye squinted slightly. "What's really going on, Roxas? Does Axel's absence have anything to do with yesterday's disappearing act?"

The blond faltered. "If I said yes, would you tell me? Since – since it obviously means a lot to me?"

"Hmm."

"I take my role as a mentor very seriously?" he attempted half-heartedly.

The principal sighed, leaning forward in his chair, laying his arms out across the desk. "The thing is, what are you going to do if I tell you?" Roxas lowered his gaze to his knees, the older man watching him closely. "I don't want you racing off again. It's just not on, Roxas."

"Well…" Roxas reasoned slowly, "what if I promise to wait until after school?"

"Aren't you supposed to be grounded?"

Shit. "Yeah, that's true," the blond admitted reluctantly. "But I can at least ask my mom for permission. If I knew where to find him, I wouldn't have to go rushing off all over the place. I could even just – call enquiries and get his number from them, if you don't want to give it to me."

The man thought for a moment. "What about I give you his number?" he suggested. "Then, when you get home, you can call him, and he can tell you his address himself."

Was it really such a big deal, handing out one lousy goddamn street name and house number? "But no one's answering his phone," Roxas argued, trying to keep his irritation in check. "Miss Charon told me. So isn't it more logical for me to just go straight there?"

The principal frowned, sat back. "So, this really is about Axel. You leaving school yesterday, all of it was to find that boy?"

"I… I just have a feeling," said Roxas softly, fingers tangling together on his lap. "I really am worried, and there's no way for anyone to get in touch with him, or figure out where he might be… It's getting to me."

"I see…" He glanced over to the window, pensively. "I have to admit, it's a little unusual that we haven't been informed of anything to do with Axel, and I'm finding it more concerning that no one is picking up at his residence, in light of your own fears…"

"I – I could go see him," Roxas said, eagerness rising. "Honestly, that's all any of this was about. If I could just know that he's okay, or even that he's sick with the flu, everything would go back to normal."

Ah, and Roxas had spoken the magic word. Normal. These people, this town, thrived on the known. The familiar. The largest portion of everyone's distress over Roxas' behaviour was based on how out-of-character it was for him to be so inconsiderate. All he had to do was dangle this bait in front of the principal's nose, and watch him rapidly weaken.

"You promise you'll wait until after school?" the man asked uncertainly. "And that you'll get your parents' permission before leaving the house?"

"D-definitely! I don't want to make trouble, sir!"

He folded his hands together, and surrendered. Somehow, in the course of the discussion, they had both managed to forget that Roxas was here to be yelled at. "Very well. Let Miss Charon know that I've approved it, and you'll get your address. But Roxas – don't let me down, please."

Roxas had no intention of letting him down – not yet, anyway. He wasn't going to get away with another day off school. After school, however, was a completely different story. Now, all he had to do was wait.

.o.O.o.

Axel's house was, for lack of a better word, quite cute. It was pretty small – he couldn't imagine more than three people comfortably living there. Maybe it was just Axel, his sister, and a single parent. That would make sense, in a way – his 'deadlines' might have been to do with taking care of his sister, or helping out or something. It was definitely a well-kept house; not a blade of grass out of place, perfect paint job. It was like a summer cottage in suburbia.

Standing on the sidewalk in front of the little gate, Roxas shifted nervously. He had come straight from school after the final bell, had run the whole way. He'd known the street as soon as the secretary told him. Axel was right about one thing at least; they were only four blocks apart.

He scraped one wrist across his forehead, wiping away the sweat, stomach fluttering. "Axel," he whispered to himself, "you better be here." He unlatched the gate, stepped through, pulled it shut behind him and started down the path. "You better be okay, too." He mounted the two steps up to the creaking porch and positioned himself in front of the door. He raised his knuckles and knocked firmly, lips pressing thin. The fluttering became a lurching burn, heart suddenly pounding. His nails found his palms. Come on, Axel… come on.

He heard footsteps from within, muscles stiffening, breath sucking in through his nose, to be held in his chest, face prickling with anxious heat. The door was unlocked and pulled open, a curious, elderly face appearing at the gap. "Yes?"

Roxas stammered, "Oh, uh, hi, um – I'm here for Axel. To see if he's okay?" He forced a smile belatedly in place, at which the woman blinked.

"I'm sorry, dear, but I think you've got the wrong house."

The smile froze, eyebrows dropping slightly. "This was the address I was given, ma'am. It was in the school's database. I just want to know why Axel hasn't been coming to class the last couple days. If you could just let me speak to him – "

"No one by that name lives here," the old lady insisted. "I'm sorry, dear, but there's no schoolchildren living at this address."

"But this is the place," Roxas snapped, losing his temper. "This is where they sent me. He's not a child, he's a high-schooler. Why won't you let me see him?"

"Oh, my." She backed away from his anger, started to close the door. "I'll have to ask you to leave…"

"My name is Roxas. Roxas! Just tell him I'm here, I just want to make sure he's alright – please!" He jammed a foot over the threshold, halting the door. He slammed his palm against the wood, demanded, "Why are you being this way? He's your grandson or whatever, isn't he? Don't you care if he goes to school or not? Don't you care that people are worrying?"

"Oh – oh – Vernon! Vernon, come quickly!" Her fearful, faded eyes met his glittering blue ones as she appealed, "Please, leave us alone, we don't have your friend here – you're mistaken!"

"I'm not! I checked six times before knocking!"

"Then the school is wrong – please, leave!"

"Louise – what's going on?" A grey, grizzled man appeared, obviously the woman's husband, scowling at her distress. His eyes fell on Roxas. "You – I know you. You work at the toy store. What are you doing here? What do you want?"

Roxas screwed up his fists. "I just – want – Axel!"

"What? What the hell's an axel? You mean like on a wheel?"

Bewildered, he looked at each of them. "No, not like a wheel. Like the person. Tall, red hair, for Christ's sake, he lives here!"

The man's face darkened, he pushed in front of his wife, blocking the doorway. "Now, listen here, boy, my wife and I bought this house when I retired five years ago, and we've never had anyone to stay with us in all that time. Whoever this red haired kid is you're looking for, he doesn't live here. Now – you're scaring my wife, you're pissing me off – how about you leave?"

"But – "

"Why would we lie?" he snapped. "If there was someone by that name living here, by hell, I'd give him to you, but there's not, so you need to get off my porch before I call the police!"

Stricken, Roxas lapsed into silence. He stared at them for a minute longer, perplexed, mouth opening then closing again with a snap. These people – they didn't…

Axel didn't live here.

The school must've got it wrong or something. That had to be it. It was the number they'd given him, the street – just… he wasn't here.

"I – I'm sorry," he said numbly. "Sorry." He turned sharply and leapt down the stairs, running to the gate, not bothering to unlatch it, just swinging over one leg and then the next, pausing on the pavement to give one last baffled look at the letterbox. He broke into a run, bag bouncing against his back. He didn't stop until he reached the mansion on the edge of town.

.o.O.o.

Roxas pushed through the great door cautiously, eyes flicking around the enormous, broken-down foyer. The hinges groaned loudly, making him jump. He was sweating, out of breath, confused, and needed a familiar, friendly face to help him wade through the mire that had developed in place of his brain. He took a few echoing steps in. "Naminé? Hello?" He pushed the heavy door shut again, felt the click of the latch travel straight to his chest, erupting in a cloud of nerves.

The seventh wonder of Twilight Town. Here he was, alone in it. So, where were the ghosts?

"Roxas?" A curious Naminé appeared from the top landing, grasping the banister rail to peer down. Her face broke into a smile. "It is you! I thought I heard your voice!"

"Uh, yeah…" He watched as she hurried along to the staircase, dancing down to meet him. "I figured I'd just come say hi."

"I wasn't expecting you so soon," she said happily. She brushed the hair from her eyes, tucking it behind her ears as she crossed the broad marble floor to greet him. "This is wonderful!" She stopped in front of him, beaming. Today, she wore white cotton pants and a white tank top, making her look as pale as ever. He wondered where someone picked up a fixation like that, and then managed to live in such a grey, dusty place.

He smiled weakly in return. "Heh, yeah."

Her expression fell into a concerned frown, head perking to the side. "Or maybe, less wonderful? What's wrong, Roxas? You look flushed."

"Oh." He glanced upward, wiping at his forehead. "No, that's just because I ran here. I – I needed somewhere to come and just…"

She seemed to understand, nodded gently. "It's okay. I'm glad you came. Do you want to come upstairs and see my pictures?"

Roxas' smile became warmer, tinged with relief. "I'd like that. Thanks."

She turned and led the way, Roxas following slowly, gaze roaming. Once upon a time, this place must have been majestic. He could still see the potential, despite the cracked windows, splintered walls, ruined furniture. "I can see why this is a good place to stay," he murmured. "There's still so much here."

"Oh, wait until you see my room," Naminé replied, flashing him a bright glance. "It's amazing how well it's stayed preserved. It's really not dangerous at all here. It's a pity they shut it down so completely, it would make a beautiful hotel."

Roxas snorted wryly. "Sure, but that would mean accepting more outsiders. People come to Twilight Town about as frequently as they leave, don't you remember?"

She nodded, shrugged as they reached the second floor and turned the corner. "I know. But if they built something like this up enough, it would be easy enough to attract tourists."

Roxas shook his head hopelessly. "It'd never happen, Nam. They don't care enough about the outside world to try."

"That's true," she agreed softly. She halted in front of the last door along the corridor, smiled up at him. "I think you'll see why this one's my favourite." She opened it, stepping through, holding the door open for Roxas to pass. He entered the room with a gaping mouth. Everything was white – white walls, white ceiling, white curtains – even white furniture. A long table of shining marble, ivory chairs. "Hey, Naminé, ever consider you might be related to the town founders?" he asked, awed. She giggled.

"I must admit, it crossed my mind, too, when I saw this place." She closed the door, walked past him, gesturing grandly with an arm. "Take a seat, Roxas!" He shuffled over to the head of the table, unslinging his backpack and setting it carefully down, pulling out the tall-backed chair and seating himself. He propped his elbows on the surface, capturing his chin in his hands, and gazed about with wide-eyes. For the first time, he noticed the numerous papers adorning the walls, all of them images of Naminé's creation. Almost as soon as he'd sat, he was bouncing up again, gasping, "Wow, Naminé!" He approached the nearest wall, surveying the offerings that had been pinned up. She sat at the opposite end of the table, smiling.

"That sounds like a compliment," she said lightly. He nodded, eyes greedily consuming all they could.

"You visited all these places?"

She nodded, crossing her legs, folding her forearms neatly in front of her. "It was wonderful," she stated dreamily. "I adored it. There's nothing like travelling around, seeing the world, seeing reality for the first time…"

"The colours…" Roxas' fingertips hovered over one, hesitant to touch, wanting to run them up and down the page just to get closer to it. "You make it look so real." He glanced over his shoulder, shaking his head. "If I'd known art could be like this, I'd have taken it up years ago… It's like creating a whole other world…"

"You just wait until you see the real thing," she smiled. "My little hobby there hardly does it justice. I try to capture what I can, but nothing beats being there."

"I'll say," he agreed fervently. "Anything's got to be better than this place…"

She shrugged, looked over at the gossamer curtains covering the outside view. "I don't know, Roxas – it's still a nice place. Maybe it's a bit stifling, but don't wish it away just yet."

"That's easy for you to say," he complained, moving on to the next image. "You've had the chance to get away. For me, it's still just as much of a trap as it was for you before you left." He frowned, hands behind his back, twisting around to ask, "What made you come back, anyway? It's not like you're visiting family… Or are you?"

"I've seen them," she admitted. "But I guess it's not like I imagined it to be. I've been…" She sighed. "…gone for a while, now. Still, it's a little like memory lane, you know? I'd hate to come back forever, but it's nice, every now and then, to just breathe the air of home again…"

"I guess I can understand," Roxas said doubtfully. "How long are you here for?"

"A few days longer, maybe. It really depends."

"Hm?" He wandered a bit further, eyes taking in a new, ice-covered vista, frozen on paper. "On what?"

Casually, she replied, "On who comes with me."

He hesitated, turned to her dubiously. "…What?"

She climbed slowly to her feet, smiling softly. "You know, Roxas, you really don't have any obligation to stay. I can see how anxious you are to escape – so why don't you just come with me?" She came to stand by him, in front of the obscured window. "It wouldn't be right away; you'll have a few days to sort out your things and say good-bye. But why hang on, when it's so obvious that it's choking you?"

His expression became shuttered. "You're the second person in two weeks trying to get me to leave Twilight Town. You even both own the same watch. What's going on, Naminé?"

She affected confusion. "Roxas, nothing's 'going on'. I'm sorry if the coincidence disturbs you, but that's really all it is. It's not like there's a conspiracy going on to get you out of Twilight Town." She touched his shoulder earnestly. "All I want is to help you out of this rut."

He slapped her away, backing off sharply. "Nam, what the fuck? Why did you say that?" He paused, then glared. "Where's Axel?"

"Pardon?" Her pretty face was puzzled.

"Axel!" Roxas was breathing hard, eyes narrowed, studying her intensely. "You know, tall guy, red spiky hair – don't tell me you don't know him, Naminé, because obviously – obviously you guys have been comparing notes or something, or – " A dreadful thought occurred to him, make his blood freeze and his stomach curdle. "Is this… some kind of con?" he asked, traces of horror entering his tone. "Is that it? You and Axel met someplace and decided this would be a good way to – what? Get some money out of me? Naminé, what is going on?"

"Roxas, you're really being ridiculous," she said sternly. "I don't want to hurt you at all. That's a terrible thing to say."

"You come back out of the blue," Roxas argued, heart hammering, "the day after Axel, who also came out of the blue, disappears. Both of you own those weird watches, both of you are trying to convince me to get the heck out of Twilight Town – you – you're just playing on my emotions or something. What was it that made you pick me?" He was growing tearful. "Did you just know I was like you, or did the two of you stake me out, follow me home? Oh, my God!" His hands flew to his face, nails digging in, distraught. "Oh, my God, that's how Axel knew where I lived!"

"Roxas!" she yelled. "Enough! You're out of your mind!"

"No!" he snarled. His hands dropped as he backed sharply away. He glared hatefully. "You are, Naminé. The both of you are fucking nuts if you ever thought this was going to work." Pain tore through his heart, shoving him violently back towards the edge of tears. "Damn it," he said, tremulously. "I really liked Axel. Really. And I thought – I thought you were my friend…"

"Roxas, please," Naminé begged, moving quickly around the table, trying to head him off. "You're wrong, you're completely wrong, you're jumping to conclusions, I don't even know Axel!"

"There's too – many – coincidences, Nam!" He jerked out of range, dodged around her, the tears spilling down his cheeks. He dashed them away with his palm, humiliated. "Too many. I don't believe you. And now, I'll never leave…" He stopped at the door, turned back to her. "I can never leave now," he repeated brokenly. "Because I'll always be afraid of the people like you who are out there. You – and Axel."

He fled, ignoring her pleas and cries, ignoring as she gave chase. She followed him to the large gates, called after him desperately, half-weeping, voice shaking. "Roxas, please, you've got to listen to me!"

He sprinted into the woods, left her behind. He couldn't bare to listen to her voice, hear her lies spill from that pretty little mouth, a mouth which probably belonged to Axel, who was probably completely straight and washed his lips every time they'd had to touch any part of Roxas' face – oh, God.

Roxas pulled to an abrupt halt, vomiting into the bushes, doubled-over and choking. He was shivering. He'd never felt so violated, so used, in all his life.

It was all a lie.

And the past three days? All that time he'd spent fearing for the redhead? God, where had he been? Was he in another part of the mansion, sleeping the day away, doing his best to forget his involvement with one lost eighteen-year-old blond boy in the smothering town of Twilight?

The address the school had given him – it was false. Axel, or maybe Naminé posing over the phone as his mother, had told them the address of some elderly couple the golden-haired girl probably remembered from her time here.

All those pictures – "These are really great, Naminé. You should sell them."

"I do, sometimes, but I really just do it because I love to, not to make a living."

That's because it's hard to make a living off of art, no matter how good you are.

That first day at the mansion: "I don't know if I should leave yet. I really want to see him."

"Do you mean – Axel?"

"What? You know Axel?"

"No, but it was the name you yelled out earlier… I figured, since you seemed upset at the thought of not seeing whoever you wanted to meet, it must be that boy."

She knew Axel, right from the start. They were in on this together. They were… just… trying to get him to leave with them. No doubt the next step would have been convincing him to take the money from his parents' dresser drawer, his mom's purse, his dad's wallet, all in the interest of surviving out in the big, wild world.

"Aww, is Roxie gonna miss me when I'm gone?"

"The way you say it makes it sound like it's going to be soon…"

"Well, not too soon. I just don't plan on staying forever."

"You know…? Me either…"

"I'm glad to hear you say that, Rox. Who knows, maybe we could be road-buddies when we leave…?"

Roxas let out a sob. The betrayal was too much. He was sick again, onto the grass this time. Too many emotions, too much fury, too much hurt. The memories stung inside his head, hideous things he wished he could scrape away, words which now burned his cheeks to have believed, to have said. Never before had he realised just how cruel people could be. Boring was nothing compared to reality.

Reality was cold, wicked knife, and it was carving him up inside.

All he wanted now was to go home, wrap himself up in bed, and never have to face the world again. He was done with it; done with wanting out. If he could find somewhere to keep him forever, where he didn't have to move, or breathe, or think – then he'd be happy. Then, he'd be content.

He staggered along, vision blurred, clutching his backpack to his chest. He didn't want to let it go, was scared to, because it was his link to Twilight Town. He'd never dream of other places again.

Somehow, he managed to find his way back to the hole in the tram common wall. With his drunken disorientation, it was a wonder he'd made out of the woods at all. He took a few minutes to collect himself, leaning against the wall, eyes squeezed shut, taking deep, slow breaths. He didn't want to walk through town looking like a mess; people would ask questions. All he wanted was to be left alone.

When he was certain he'd be able to walk the rest of the way without further embarrassing himself, he slowly shuffled through, back into town, and started for home.

Partway through the Sandlot, he became distantly aware of a commotion of some sort. He lifted his head, sniffing sharply, to see a short boy with brown hair accosting as many different people as he could, on their way to various places – home, probably; it was about that time of day. The boy moved with a frantic energy, face twisted earnestly, voice loud and insistent. Roxas closed his eyes for a moment, lowering his head, swerving slightly to keep out of the brunet's path in the hope that he would be allowed to pass.

No such luck.

With uncanny speed, the kid managed to dodge the few weary commuters and come to a halt in front of Roxas. "Hey, guy, can I ask you a question?" he demanded breathlessly.

"No," Roxas growled, bag clutching closer. "Get out of my way, outsider."

The brunet brightened. "Hey, you can tell just by looking at me? That's awesome, that's just what I need." He grabbed Roxas' shoulder as the blond tried to push past. Roxas ripped back, snarling.

"Stay the fuck away from me, I'm not telling you anything. Why don't you go back to where you belong?"

The boy's face fell, eyebrows knitting together in dismay. "There's no need to be like that – I just wanted – "

"What's going on here?" Both boys turned to see Seifer and his gang approach, a scowl upon the tall blond's face. "Roxas? Is this kid bothering you?"

Never before would Roxas have thought he could be so grateful for Seifer's xenophobia. "I'm trying to get home. He won't let me pass."

"Hey, wait," the brunet protested, blue eyes flying wide with panic. "That's not true, I just wanted to ask if you'd seen – oof!" Seifer had darted in and buried his fist into the kid's stomach. Roxas winced as he doubled over, gasping for breath, held up only because Seifer hadn't let go, moving to grip the boy's shirt and shake him roughly.

"Didn't you hear, outsider? Roxas wants to go home, so leave him the fuck alone!" He glanced up to the blond, nodded once, curtly. "On your way, loser. I've got this kid covered."

Roxas eyed the tableau hesitantly, feeling like maybe it wasn't right to let some kid get the snot beaten out of him just for getting in the way… But he'd refused to let Roxas leave. And he was an outsider. He was… just one of them. The shorter blond nodded, skirting past, reluctantly continuing on.

"Wait," the brunet wheezed, as Fuu and Rai shifted around to get a good position in the proceedings, fists raised and ready. "Wait – Roxas? Roxas?" Roxas kept walking, stonily ignoring the kid. "Roxas, please," he called desperately. "Do you know where Axel is?"

Roxas froze, whipped around before his brain could tell him to fuck the kid off and keep moving. He was tripping over himself hurrying back, a hand held out as he cried, "Wait!"

Seifer straightened, glaring impatiently. "What now, chicken-wuss? Can't you see I'm busy cleaning trash off the streets?"

Roxas said, "Just hang the fuck on, Seifer." He bent at the knees, meeting the kid's imploring gaze, a hard frown in place. "What about Axel? You know where he is?"

"No, that's why I asked you," the kid said anxiously. "My name is Sora, I'm a friend of him and his sister – Kairi sent me here to find him, because he's disappeared. You're his friend, though, right? I've heard him talk about you!"

Roxas straightened coldly. "Oh? And did he tell you how fucking easy I am to manipulate? Did he tell you all his plans to screw me over and leave me in the dust?"

The kid's eyes widened. "Huh? What? Axel?"

"Yeah. Axel. Relax, Sora. I know all about his plans for me. He could be dead right now for all I care."

Seifer let out an appreciative laugh. "That sounds good to me; who knew you were such a fire-brand, Roxas?"

"This is what happens when I get messed with," he responded dully. "This is how I go when someone rips out my eyes and heart and stomps on them." He flicked his eyes down the kid's wide gaze. "If you do happen to find him, tell him from me that he's an asshole, and I hope he chokes on every lie he ever told."

He turned, gave Seifer a quick, casual nod, and walked away.

"But – he really likes you…" the kid said in a small voice. Whatever else he might have had to say was cut off by Seifer's fists.

As Roxas left the Sandlot, he heard someone yell, "Sora! Get off him, you bastards!"

Seemed like someone had come to the kid's rescue. Roxas didn't really care, one way or another. It wasn't like he knew the brunet. So – Axel's sister was apparently looking for him. That, at least, had been a small grain of truth in amongst the deeper levels of bullshit. He wished all these outsiders would just find each other, clump together, and cluster-fuck off for the rest of eternity.

Roxas managed to get home before his mother returned from work, but he knew, from the flashing light on the answering machine, that she had probably called and drawn her own conclusions when he didn't answer. So what? She could think what she wanted; it wasn't like it was going to happen again. This was it, he was done, finito. Roxas was back to being a good only son. He'd finish his homework, find a girl to wrestle tongues with and eventually fuck until her stomach bloated with parasite, and live a comfortable little Twilight Town life, within the crushing tentacles of love belonging to all those around him.

He stomped up to his room without bothering to listen to his mother's disembodied reprimand, slammed the door of his room shut despite the fact there was no one to hear it, and tossed his books carelessly into the corner of the room. For a long minute, he stood there, in the middle of the carpet, hands hanging loosely by his sides. His mind struggled to find some even ground after all the drama and hysteria of the past few days – hell, the last two weeks, almost. He tried to come to terms with the death of his dreams, the beginning of his death.

Something caught his eye, something bright, bold, and out of place. He frowned, shifting over to the bed, gaze falling on the yellow, cheap plastic circle in the middle of his pillow.

"What…?" He picked it up. It was a yo-yo. It was Axel's yo-yo. His heart stopped in his chest, gave a sickening thud, then burst into overdrive. For the second time, he was in tears. Was this some kind of good-bye gift? Was it a final slap in the face for the blond?

"I'll cherish it always."

"You fucking ass," he spat. His fingers tightened around the junky toy, wishing he could split it with the force of his newborn hatred, have the shards pierce his skin. Violent symbolism felt like a good thing right now.

He took to it with his nails, forcing them into the gap spanning the toy's circumference, and pried the two plastic discs apart with a loud snap. A piece of paper fluttered to the bed, released from its scrunched up state within the yo-yo. Roxas dropped the broken yellow plastic and hesitantly plucked the paper up, unfolding it, smoothing it between his fingers to read:

Roxie. Tonight's the night. This is the last time we can see each other in TT – meet me at the clock tower, midnight. I can explain everything. Love, Axel.

Roxas' eyes lost their focus, slipping past the paper. "Love…?" he muttered.

Love nothing. It was just another lie. Naminé had told him the jig was up, and – but Roxas had only just figured out the scam. So… Axel wouldn't know yet. Maybe by midnight he would, but when he left the note, he couldn't have…

Roxas would go. He'd go, and listen to the lies one last time. All he had to do was figure out what to take with him – which household item would cause the most amount of blunt trauma, for when Roxas beat him to a bloody pulp.

Then he could return here, and resign himself to this life with a small amount of satisfaction, if nothing else. Closure… would be nice.