CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

There were cracks in the playground, its disintegration complete. Roxas' head swam dizzily as he staggered over the sand, bare feet kicking up clumsy plumes, some of it getting in his eyes. There was no moon, no stars, barely enough air to breathe inside the pressing darkness. Claustrophobia built beneath the choking sensation, intensifying it, making him gasp at the thin, black atmosphere. The broken play-equipment hulked like dark, skeletal monuments, their presence heavy and oily, the air around them rolling slightly. Roxas was worried, couldn't find his mom, couldn't catch his breath, was scared that the little ghosts were around somewhere and would be in danger. This place wasn't safe anymore, not for anyone.

The ground dipped unevenly in places, becoming hard, stone-like despite its soft appearance. Where he should have been sinking, he found his steps jarring, knees locking at the unexpected solidity. With an endless quality, it seemed as though the playground stretched beyond its regular boundaries, becoming a desert, the ground littered with dehydrated splits. Roxas could hear, when he paused to pant, the steady hiss of falling sand, as if he was inside an hourglass, the top cup, the floor gradually but all too quickly draining away.

He didn't even know why he was here anymore. With increasing nervousness, he was beginning to realise that, not only were things wrong, they were also… not right. The air… was it supposed to taste bitter like this? He sniffed cautiously, wondering if a storm was coming. There was that same sensation hovering about, that thick, still, smothering quality that suggested violence to come.

Roxas grimaced, turning slowly, wondering what he was meant to do now that he was here. Mother wasn't even around – nobody was. A deep-set, slightly panicked inner voice told him that he shouldn't be here at all. He shouldn't have come in the first place – should have stayed where the world was light, the dead remained dead, and ghosts only ever existed within memories of memories.

Feeling queasy, Roxas spied the swings, decided that sitting would be a good thing – he had to figure out a way to escape this wasteland. Flickers of memories remained from previous visits, but he didn't know how he kept getting here, or how he left each time – if indeed he was leaving at all. The thought of being trapped here was a chilling one. It made him shiver despite the skin-close encasing heat, throbbing and swirling around his head.

He started towards the swing-set, a weakness stealing through his muscles, turning them jelly-like, waves of sick prickles sweeping one after another through his flesh.

Halfway there, the ground disappeared beneath him, foot swallowed whole, the rest of him lurching down with a jerk, a startled cry. His fingers closed on handfuls of sand, bewilderment overtaking as he looked down and saw his lower leg had found a sinkhole, was consumed almost to the knee. Frowning, he steadied himself, pushed up, and though the earth resisted, sucked at him, Roxas' leg slid free. A moment later, he was blinded, a bright white light bursting forth from the opening, the edges of which had turned hard and crusted. Roxas shielded his face with one arm, squinting against the intensity.

"Roxas."

.o.O.o.

Roxas sat up sharply, eyes wide, hair a mess, breaths bullet-quick, exploding in the silence. He clutched the blankets, hauled them tight around his body, knees drawing up, cocooning himself deeply away with a low whimper. Axel frowned in his continuing slumber, hands moving to pat his suddenly bare torso, shivering from the cold. His face screwed up, before relaxing as his eyes cracked open one at a time. He scowled in confusion as his bleary gaze fell upon the large huddle beside him, tangled up in Demyx's sheets. "MmmmRoxie? Gimme the blankets…" He reached out weakly, tugged ineffectively at the coverings. Pouting, the redhead rolled his face into the pillow, hovering on a knife's edge between either waking up to wrestle the sheets back to his side of the bed, or dropping back into the dark confines of sleep. An eyebrow rose slowly as he became aware of the hard panting from the teen. He frowned, rubbed his face for a moment, then mumbled, "Roxie? Lie back down, honey. Let's go back to sleep."

Roxas didn't respond. Sighing, counting to three and then clawing himself up to sitting, Axel swayed for a moment, blinking owlishly. He scratched his head, slithered closer to the blond, wrapped his arms around the bundle and buried his face into the padded crook of his neck, luxuriating in the mingled scent of them both, the warmth. "Come back to bed," he murmured. "'S'not time to get up yet." His brow creased, head tilting to the side as he heard a small noise come from the boy. He paused, waited, listening carefully. Several seconds passed, and it came again, a slight, breathy sound of distress. Axel drew back slightly, waking up a little more with the twinge of worry curling its way around his heart. "Roxas?" Roxas didn't acknowledge him, hadn't in the entire time he'd been awake. He shifted his hold on the boy and shook him sternly. "Roxas, answer me." Nothing.

Fear threading his veins, Axel crawled quickly around in front of the teen, grabbed the blanket and tugged it from his head, exposing the blond spikes, the pale skin, the blank, tear-filled eyes. Baffled, he reached out, touched his face gently. "Roxas, what's the matter? Why're you crying?" Silence. Not even a blink, the moisture building and trailing down his cheeks, the lids refusing to close. Axel frowned, leaned hesitantly closer, trying to engage the empty gaze. "Roxas. Hey. It's me. How you doing in there?" He waved a hand in front of his face, scared now, not accustomed to such a lack of reaction in the blond, whether negative, positive or in-between. "Roxas!" His voice snapped through the air, and Roxas continued to give his tiny, voiceless whimpers, the tears continued to slide. Axel was beginning to realise that maybe, just maybe, the people who'd told him about Roxas' behaviour that last couple days hadn't been exaggerating. Maybe Vincent hadn't not been trying hard enough, maybe Aerith hadn't been mothering too much, maybe Leon and Cloud hadn't been looking for reasons to piss him off.

"Jesus." Axel's face was contorted with his fear, as he seized the sides of Roxas' face and angled it up, trying to find something within the blond that recognised him. "Roxas, you've got to wake up. Listen to me! For God's sake, blink your eyes!"

.o.O.o.

Roxas hissed through his teeth, eyes narrowed to slits to protect them from the pain of the piercing light. Confusion filled him. "Mom?"

"Roxas…"

Her voice – it was coming from… the hole? He crept a few cautious steps forward, lowering his arms, squinting through the brightness. "Mom?" He couldn't see anything but the whiteness. He shifted closer, trying to peer in, nearly blinded himself in doing so. He wheeled away, rubbing his eyes desperately, feeling a slow burn start up in his left temple. There was a crumbling noise, he felt a slight give at his heel, glanced down and saw the ground he was standing on disintegrating at its edges, the pieces disappearing into the light as though vaporised. Quickly, he moved away, over to a more solid position. Further out, deeper into the darkness, it didn't hurt to look at the light. He followed it with his eyes, saw it leap into the sky and seem to go on forever, a blazing beam. He tried, incredibly hard, to find some part of his mind that wasn't unnerved by this, some memory holding an ounce of understanding, but all he found was a terrible uneasiness.

He had heard her voice – his mother, she was around here somewhere. The hole. But – what was she doing there? Wasn't the playground unsafe now? Why had she returned to this place?

"Roxas. Follow mother."

He sucked in a breath, eyebrows drawing low. Yes – she was in the hole. Or – her voice was. She was coming from the hole. Eyes narrowing uncertainly, a grimace in place, he moved reluctantly closer again. "Mom? Are – are you in there?"

Her breath was a gust of cold wind, swirling up, a long, voiceless whisper. "Roxasss."

It swept from the hole, wrapped around him, urged him on, begged for him to enter the light. He waved his arms about sharply, ridding the air of the smokiness, slicing the hiss apart, so that echoes of it ricocheted off in various directions, seeming to bounce from the invisible, wall-like boundaries of the playground. There was a crackling sound, and a chunk of the edge crumbled, fell away, leaving room for more of the sight-stealing light to burst forth in its absence.

"Roxas… Come to mother…"

"What's going on?" he demanded fearfully, voice stronger than he thought it would be. A swift wind blew, hot and cold, smelling of the desert, of snow, of confusion and illness, and she replied, "Mother is sick… Come to mother, and we will get better together… Come to where the bad boy cannot reach…"

Roxas' mouth curled, the nausea leaping from his stomach to his throat. Was this a reaction to her words, or was he actually sick? Get better together? "I'm fine, mom," he called. "I – I don't need to get better."

The white, swirling wind wrapped itself around him, tight circles, hair lifting, covering his eyes, clothes rustling, bewilderment filling him. Misty fingers plucked at his shirt, urged him toward the hole. Another section of the earth baked dry and crumbled away, the hole becoming less concise, messy, starting to gape. More of the light emerged, piercing a little more of the sky, obliterating another few inches of darkness. He felt her in the air, her presence, her voice in his veins, and grew angry. "I don't want to! Leave me alone, mom!"

"Be a good boy, Roxas. Follow mother."

.o.O.o.

"Roxas, damn it, cut this shit out." Axel had his shoulders, shook him roughly, and still the blond continued to weep, the noises from his throat growing louder, his eyes unseeing but filled with some unnameable emotion, a dark one, a thin one, the kind that Axel would give almost anything to take away from him. Something was wrong with Roxas this time. This had to be worse than what had happened previously – this had to more extreme than the episodes that had been described to him. He had heard no mention of tears, nothing about fear. Talking, yes, wandering, some level of intelligence and a stark, distant awareness, but nothing like this. Roxas looked as if he were fighting off a nightmare.

"Roxas! Wake up!"

The blond hitched in a sharp breath, let out a shuddering breath that was half a groan. "Mom, no. Leave me alone."

Axel paused, eyes widening, fingers tightening. "What? I'm not your mom, Roxas." He gripped the boy's chin, forced it up, gaze burning down into the blue eyes, trying to tell if Roxas was coming around. "I'm here, Roxie. It's me – Axel. Can you hear me?"

"I don't want to," he moaned, head lolling on a weak, suddenly limp neck. He slumped, crying in earnest now. Axel caught him, eased him down, desperately anxious. He didn't know what to do.

.o.O.o.

With a resounding rumble, the ground shook, the shudders bolting up Roxas' legs, painful in their intensity. Without any further warning, long, jagged splits appeared in the earth, racing from the white hole, the sand leaking instantly away, swallowed in seconds. Sucking each breath from between his teeth, Roxas stepped quickly away from the nearest crack, felt the playground floor growing softer, less stable. "Roxas must join with mother… Roxas is the only one that can save her…"

"No! Damn it, mom! What the hell is going on?" he roared over the increasing noise, the world itself seeming to vibrate with the reverberations. The white wind burst up in a narrow tornado. Something shining and slippery dwelled within it, some undefinable shape, some kind of – of awareness. Roxas watched, sick and touched with horror, as the creature, white as snow, sinuous like water, cast the wind away. His eyes widened as the substance took shape, became a glowing figure. "Mom?"

Her eyes were sightless, her nose shut, lips sealed, hair shifting slowly through the air like so many snakes attached to her head. "Roxas. Follow mother."

His breaths were quick, heart pounding with painful intensity in his chest, the fear overwhelming now, hideous, like some kind of poison flooding his system. His hands formed shaking fists, lips parting, a croak exiting his mouth, hopelessness and dread twisting his expression. He shook his head, the motion short and sharp, apprehensive. "No, mom. I don't want to. I – I won't."

A low hiss, an exasperated sigh, winding around his feet. "Why are you disobedient to me, my son? I have asked you to follow me." Her voice was calm, sounding – almost like she used to. Almost like she was – herself again. Uncertainty flooded the teen, a section of him wavering at that familiar timbre, comforted by it. He remembered what it was to have a mother, to want to make her happy, to be held in pride…

But…

"But… you're dead," he said softly. "Axel told me so. Axel… took me to see you. There's nothing left but…" He lifted his face, features twisted in pain and confusion. "Bones." The wind became cold. "I said good-bye to your bones. You shouldn't be here, mom. I shouldn't be here. You need… to let me go."

"I told you, Roxas, that it is not I who is the dead one. Your mother died many years ago, but she and I are not one and the same. I was not the one to give you flesh, but I am the one to have given you life. You will not turn your back on mother. I am mother. And you will obey me, my lovely, good boy."

.o.O.o.

"I'm a good boy, I'm a good boy," Roxas whispered fretfully, rocking quickly back and forth, hands clamped over his feet. "I'm a good boy."

"You're a good boy," Axel agreed soothingly, mindlessly hugging him, wanting to go for help, but too scared to leave him, too afraid to move him. He just didn't know what was happening, didn't know what to do. Roxas was losing his mind, and there was nothing Axel could think of to save him. Vincent had been right, damn it. Axel couldn't save Roxas – he could only watch what could easily be his reason for living fade into some broken form of madness. There was nothing anyone could do. "Damn it, Roxas," he muttered, giving the boy a squeeze, a shake. "Wake the fuck up, you goddamn son of a bitch."

.o.O.o.

"I'm leaving now, mom," Roxas said quietly, not bothering to raise his voice above the rush of air, knowing she could hear him, would probably hear if he thought the words. Whoever she was, whatever shade had risen from his mother's grave when he had gone to see her bones, she wasn't his mom. Not really. She was just – some pale, shivering replica. He turned his back on her, and walked away, eyes trained on the swing-set.

"Roxas will follow mother, whether he wants to or not. He will break bones for mother. He will join her, and make her healthy again. He is the only one. You are the only son that can save me."

He ignored her, ignored the shiver that crept along his spine, kept his pace steady. And then the ground shattered, and fell away. With an enormous grinding, a crack like thunder splitting the sky apart, the earth was rent, slabs of it dropping into the hole, becoming a chasm. Roxas started to run, not looking back, gaze fixed desperately on the swings, some ridiculous hope telling him that he would be safe there, safe where Axel had once been. Awareness was filtering through, piece by piece, telling him that none of this was right, he was inside a dream – damn it, this was a dream. It always had been! There was no playground!

The skeleton of the jungle-gym was swallowed into the white maw, the see-saw falling and vanishing, the bench where the ghost mothers had laughed and chatted ceasing to be. Roxas' feet flew across the ground, took him to the swings. He reached them with a cry of relief, seized the chains, twisted and saw the playground floor fragmenting in a wave, the white light devouring it, and showing no signs of slowing. Terror surged as he realised that it wasn't going to stop – the swings would go, too, and he with them. He left their false harbour, leapt for the black edge of the dream-arena, hit a hard, unyielding nothing, invisible walls as real as the ones that had kept him in Twilight Town all those years. Only this time, there was no Axel around to save him. No one could reach him here, in this manipulated environment. He turned, saw the swing-set list heavily, the earth dissolving, the metal bars leaning drunkenly towards the shining abyss.

And then, the world was water.

Roxas gasped, choked, flailed wildly and fell off the bed with a thump and a groan. He was being smothered, was encased, thrust away at whatever was wrapped around him with a startled cry, thrashing. It was ripped away suddenly, and he froze, found himself staring up at Axel, who peered down worriedly from the bed, on his hands and knees, Demyx's blankets hanging in one hand. Roxas was… dripping. For a long moment, they stared at each other, both sets of eyes holding a measure of wildness. Then Axel asked, voice low, "Roxie? Is that you?"

He stuttered, "Wh-wh-what happened?" He reached up, wiped his face, stared at the shine on his palm. "Why am I – wet?" He blinked hard as some of it entered one eye, the sore one, and rubbed fiercely for a moment. Axel let out a soft exclamation, leapt from the bed, landing in a crouch beside the teen, gathering him up and pulling him hard into his arms, not caring about how it hurt his shoulder, or Roxas' ribs, not really feeling anything other than the overwhelming relief and shock of the aftermath.

"God, Roxas." He tugged the teen into his lap, dug his nose into the damp hair.

"Why am I wet?" Roxas repeated, hopelessly confused.

"Demyx. He keeps bottles of water in the wardrobe, because he doesn't like feeling thirsty at night. Holy shit, Roxas!" He turned the boy's head towards him, anger threatening to overwhelm. "What the fuck just happened?"

Roxas blinked, still rubbing at his eye, slower now. "I – did I sleep-walk?"

"You sleep-freaked-the-fuck-out," the redhead snapped. Roxas squinted.

"What – do you mean? Did I do something bad?"

The redhead cradled his chin in one hand, meeting his gaze with bewilderment. "Do you really – not know? You don't remember anything?"

Roxas' eyes shifted slightly, a frown developing slowly. "I think…" he said softly, "I – I might have had a nightmare. I don't remember the details, but…" He reached up, massaged his bare chest, fingers pressing the skin over his heart. "I can still sort of – feel the fear. It was… really scary."

"You're telling me," Axel replied, voice unnaturally high. For a moment he stared at the teen, shaking his head. Then he hugged him again, arms tight around him. "I didn't even know if you were awake or not. I didn't know what was going on. You wouldn't wake."

Roxas weathered the almost rough actions of the other man, allowed himself to be crushed against his chest, resting his cheek against the hot skin. "Thanks for managing to bring me back," he murmured. "I don't think I want to go there again. Wherever I was…"

For several minutes, they sat on the ground together, calming down, muscles relaxing a little from their hard, tense state. Roxas found his eyes drifting shut again, soothed by Axel's heartbeat, but the redhead would have none of this. When he saw the teen's eyelashes flicker, he wrenched Roxas back sharply, making him gasp, blinking rapidly. "No way, Rox," Axel said fervently. "Not again, not tonight. Have you ever considered a caffeine drip? I really think it would work great."

Roxas looked at him incredulously. "Axel, I can't just never sleep. What happened to, 'it'll all be fine, we can fix this'?"

"Well, obviously it's less fine than I thought," Axel snapped back. "You can sleep tomorrow if you have to, we'll figure out some excuse or something to get you out of lessons with Zexion and Demyx, but damn it, Roxas, I can not go through that again tonight!"

"You? What about me?" Roxas demanded shrilly. "I am the one it's happening to, you know!"

"Yeah," Axel conceded unhappily, slipping the teen to the floor and standing, "but you don't have to watch it. You don't even remember it afterwards! You don't – " He stopped, took a step away, looked down at the blond, expression touched with worry. "You don't know what it's like, Roxie. I don't know about you, but I can't sleep anymore tonight. And since you're to blame, I don't see why you should, either."

Roxas raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so you're taking the mature approach then?"

"Please, Rox." Axel didn't look at him, kept his head down as he went to where his clothing was scrunched on the stone floor. "I really can't go back to bed."

Roxas drew his knees up, hugging them, eyes fixed on the slender, angular form of the other man, watching as he pulled on his black jeans, motions quick and jerky, anxious. As he tugged his shirt on, pulling it over the scarlet spikes, he turned back to Roxas, looking up to see the boy still down beside the bed in his boxers. He hesitated, pulled the hem down to rest at his belt, asked uncertainly, "Roxas? Are you okay? You didn't – fall asleep again, did you?"

Roxas glanced up, shook his head. "It was that bad, huh? So you think – I'm maybe getting worse?"

Axel cringed, scratched the back of his neck. "Oh, ah, I really don't know, Rox. I haven't seen enough to be able to judge…"

"But you've seen enough to not want to go through it again," the blond said quietly. "So it was bad, then." His expression wavered, a desperation entering his eyes. "I don't mean to be bad, Axel. I – I just want to be good."

Axel felt his heart chill at the words – "I'm a good boy, I'm a good boy" – and moved to crouch down in front of the teen. He ran his hands down Roxas' shoulders and upper arms. "Rox, look, I'm sorry. I didn't want to scare you. You're fine, okay? You're – as good as they come. So – how about you get up now, okay? Get up, and we'll get you dressed, and we'll go get some coffee or something. Okay?"

Roxas tipped his chin to one side, lowering his gaze, fighting off a growing sensation of unease. He could hear the pleading in Axel's tone, knew that the man was truly shaken by whatever had happened. Nothing violent, nothing actively negative, but… he could just about taste the anxiety rolling through the air. He closed his eyes, sighed, rubbing at his nose. "Help me up?"

Axel's hands were gentler now than they had been before, thumbs rubbing his elbows. As Roxas ran his fingers through his hair, swept the last clinging droplets of water from his skin, Axel hunted about for his clothing, trying not to think about what would have happened if they'd been anywhere but Demyx's room. Roxas' hands folded into his armpits, he sniffed and shivered as the cold started registering in his dumbfounded state. Axel came over with his pants and shirt, tried to assist but was waved off, Roxas taking them from him and dressing quickly. Once he was ready, he looked up at Axel, who studied him tensely. He forced a smile. "I'm okay now, Axel. Really."

The redhead, unsuccessfully keeping the doubt from his features, merely nodded back. Slinging a customary arm around the blond's shoulders, Roxas' hand coming up to cling at his shirt, they went to the door. Axel hesitated, the blue eyes shot over. "You have the key, right?"

The tall man drew a deep, guilty breath, and reached out to simply open the door. "I – I thought you were just…"

Roxas' eyebrows shot up. "Am I in the habit of blowing things out of proportion, or were you in some denial there?"

Axel shook his head, frustrated with himself. "I'm – sorry, Rox. I didn't… think…"

Roxas' eyes narrowed. "I guess not."

It seemed like something was determined to make it so that they couldn't quite be perfectly happy or at ease with one another. Since the moment they'd met, it was like – the good moments? They were just flashes within the darkness. They sustained Roxas, gave him hope, made him feel loved and protected for the most part… but God, it was taking its toll. As they walked down the corridors, yet again a silence between them, creating a gap despite the warmth of their touching bodies, he closed his eyes, sent his thoughts upward to the sky, and outward to anyone who might have been listening, begging in the lowest mental whisper he could muster to please, please make things better, please make it hardship within happiness instead of happiness within hardship. He was tired of everything being hard, damn it. And in the pit of his stomach, the back of his mind, some sharp-toothed voice warned of the day when Axel would tire of it, too. There was a limit to how far someone's love could stretch, no matter what the redhead might profess. A fear rose quietly and settled in his chest, that maybe he was more trouble than he was worth. He buried his face into the side of Axel's shirt, inhaling, clenching his teeth against the awful pessimism that could only exist so clearly in the smallest hours like this, after so many horrible happenings.

"I'll get the coffee going," Axel murmured as they approached the dining hall entrance, "and we'll just sit up til dawn, okay? Maybe, I don't know, we can just…"

They stopped, several feet into the hall, and stared. Over at the kitchen, gasping and shifting, were Leon and what was unmistakably Cloud, kissing desperately. Leon's hips moved jerkily against the blond man's, eliciting small groans and soft, breathless cries. Roxas felt the blood rush to his face, a tingling in his legs as his hands flew up to clamp against his face. He squeaked, unable to tear his gaze away. For a long minute, what felt like eternity, the blond and redhead simply stared, still too stunned from earlier to be able to form any kind of proper response. It wasn't until Axel yelped in an injured tone, "That's our dry-humping stove!" that Roxas was wrenched from his almost voyeuristic daze. "Roxie! They're doing it on Aerith's stove!"

Roxas covered his eyes. "I know! Shut up!"

"I ought to give them a piece of my – " Axel began to move. Roxas opened his eyes, panicked, lunged for him, snatched his shirt in one hand and a hank of red hair in the other, and dragged him bodily from the room.

Back in the corridor, sense began to return to them. Their eyes locked, wide, faces flushed, images and sounds burnt into their minds. Roxas felt like his brain was going to explode.

"I really wish I'd just kept sleep-walking."

And then Axel started giggling. He clamped his hands over his mouth, snorted loudly, and couldn't find a way to stop. Roxas stared at him for a moment, before something bubbled out from his own throat, almost like a hiccup, and that was it – he was gone. They bent over each other, giggling and gasping, biting their lips to try and keep the noise from travelling while they were still within range of the dining hall. They scuttled away as quickly as possible. Once they escaped the vicinity, Axel dropped his hands and let out a donkey's bray of a laugh, staggering to slam against the wall, clutching his stomach as tears of mirth leaked down his face. Roxas was beside him, hysterical, his laughter shrill. Green eyes met blue, and for a while they just let themselves vanish inside the frenzy, burning out the vestiges of the last several hours, scraping them clean of the filth and adhering oil that had dragged them down since the sun had set.

When he was capable of speech again, Axel panted, "Leon… and – and – "

"Cloud," Roxas yelped, nodding, biting down on his knuckles to keep from lapsing back into the hysteria. They snorted and sniggered.

"I had heard – but I – I never would've – never would've thought," Axel cried, lips stretched painfully, cheeks aching. "Oh, man, wait til I tell Yuffie and Tifa! Man, those two are going to flip!"

Roxas bit his lip, wiped his eyes with the heels of his palms. "A-a-are you sure that's a good idea? Maybe they – they don't want anyone to know yet…"

"Then they shouldn't have been dry-humping on – on our stove!" They burst off into fresh gales of howling.

"We're gonna need a new appliance," Roxas croaked shakily. "I'm n-not having their sloppy-seconds…"

"Nooo, I don't want to think of anything being sloppy," Axel groaned. "Nooo, that's Leon in my head now… Oh, God, I want to die…" Then he shot Roxas a sly look, twisted suddenly, grabbed the teen's wrists and pinned them to the wall. "Feel like giving me something else to think about?"

"Haha, heh, it – it was pretty hot," the blond admitted weakly. For a second, Axel's eyes widened, the greens bright and startled.

"Holy shit," he breathed. "You liked that?"

Roxas scowled. "I'm not a perv, if that's what you're…" He broke off as Axel eagerly licked his throat. "Um… what…?"

"You have no idea how sexy you are," the redhead growled. "I love finding these things out about you…" He smirked, drew back and tapped the tip of the boy's nose. "So Roxie's a voyeur, is he? Now that is hot. Leon and Cloud have got nothing on you."

"I-if you say so," the blond replied faintly. He shook his head as Axel tried to kiss him. "I – I don't think…" His words were muffled, swallowed up by the other mouth, his heartbeat shooting up a notch. He pulled back. "I – they were totally just…" He laughed briefly. "I can not make out with you after watching those two. No way."

"But you liked it, didn't you?" Axel muttered, hovering near his ear, still clutching his wrists tightly. Roxas shrugged a little, trying to keep his head from swimming at the sensation.

"I – I don't know… but I'm still not going to – to do anything just because I thought they looked…"

"Hmm." Axel pulled back with a broad, devious smile. "You thought they looked…?" He raised an eyebrow. "Well, we certainly can't go back for coffee, Roxie. What do you suggest we do until dawn?"

Roxas rolled his eyes up, thinking desperately. "We could – we could go for a walk? Out in the fresh air?"

Axel dulled slightly. "We can't do that," he said, momentarily serious. "That guy might still be around. Vincent's good, but he's not infallible."

"The garden, then," Roxas pleaded. "I need some – some fresh air or something, Axel. It's too hot in here."

Lust darkened the green eyes, Axel lowering his face to watch the boy from under his brow. "I think you might be right…" he said softly, suggestively. "Though I don't suppose you'd reconsider… bed?"

Roxas almost gave in, knees weakening sharply at the vibrating tone of the redhead's voice. He was tempted to just let go and let Axel carry him away to wherever he wanted… but in the back of his mind remained the – the nightmare, whatever it was, whatever it was that Roxas couldn't quite remember... That fear still pulsed beneath the desire that had flooded his senses, and it insisted that bed – wasn't where he wanted to be right now. No matter the company, no matter the intent. He shrank into himself, shook his head. "I – I'd like to just… sit in the cold for a while."

Sensing the switch in his mood, Axel frowned, studied him. At length, he nodded. "All right. If that's what you want." He smiled crookedly. "Bed can always wait… it's not like we haven't got time, right?"

Roxas returned the expression gratefully, leaned forward and kissed the man tenderly. "Thank you."

Axel's face was soft. "Of course." He released the teen's wrists and stepped back. Roxas followed, wrapped his arms around the redhead's narrow waist, and even when they started to walk, he didn't remove them. In this awkward fashion, they went off to the garden, to sit in the coolness, under the waning moon, with their blood long dried on the grass, and waited for dawn to come.