a/n: ok so I know its been a year since my last update, but a lot has happened in my life to keep me busy. I started helping my sister edit a story that she's writing on here though, and it sparked my enthusiasm for writing again! So all thanks go to my sister Paperheart27 for being my inspiration . Btw the style of writing in this chapter is a bit different then the previous ones. If you guys want me to rewrite the rest of them please let me know, because even though it'll take a lot of work, if you guys want it I will do it (figure I owe you guys)
Disclaimer: unfortunately the smexy characters of Kingdom Hearts do not belong to me. If they did Axel and Roxas would be forced to perform fan-service until they died. 3's!
Chapter 13 - To go to jail or not to go to jail, that is the question.
I was standing in front of my English class with my hand on the door knob, and I was paralyzed with indecision. What should I do? Should I skip the class as I had my previous end of day courses, or should I suck it up and enter into unknown enemy territory? I released my grip on the door knob and started pacing back and forth in front of the classroom, squinting at the tile at my feet, trying to pick out each speck of color to distract myself from the raw nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach. Should I go hang out in the bathroom? I shook my head and blushed when I remembered what had happened the last time I had decided to use that washroom during English. The bell for the start of the period had rung 5 minutes ago, and I had yet to decide if I wanted to attend. I had already gotten an earful from my parents for skipping last night's classes because of my red-headed adversary; did I really want to give them more ammunition? I started chewing on my bottom lip, weighing the pros and cons and hoping one option would outweigh the other. The sound of the door of the classroom opening did not break my concentration, the foot that slid out in the aims to trip me during my pacing did. I stopped myself short of tripping over the long shoe in my marching line and slowly slid my eyes up the shoe, then the leg, the torso and finally to the face that had been the reason I had been pacing in front of the door in the first place.
Axel looked the same, same hair, tattoos, raised sardonic eyebrow; smirk firmly in place, but there was something different about him that I couldn't put my finger on. I furrowed my brows in concentration and studied his features scowling in annoyance when his lips started moving, ruining my concentration. The smirk moved back into place when he finished his sentence, and I nodded in satisfaction, continuing my study of his features. Then I figured out what it was, and my stomach dropped a bit more. The smirk, it was the smirk that was different. The silent treatment and being avoided like the plague I could handle, but the cruelness in that smirk made me want to hide in a corner. And to think that not that long ago that smirk had held so much unspoken promise, and now that promise was entirely of a different nature. I was jolted out of my thoughts by a long slender hand waving itself in my line of vision.
"Yo dumbass, anybody home?" I squinted at him and shook my head to clear it of the fog.
"Sorry what was that?" I gulped at the sound of my own voice, noticing how quiet and timid it sounded. He snorted at me and crossed his arms in front of his chest, eyebrow rising impossibly higher.
"Thought not. I said there is a window on this door; everybody has been watching you pacing back in forth in front of it like a little chicken. Now go sit down, I have ADD and it's annoying me having to watch you." His voice bit like frost bite and I lowered my eyes back to the floor, trying to avoid the green eyes that caused the biting cold to spread through my lungs and chest.
"Well if you would move, I would." I tried an attempt for more of a quiet hatred, feeling a little relief as my tone caused the man in question to turn his torso slightly, pulling in his legs and allowing me enough room to pass through the doorway. Worried that the leg would come out to trip me again if I took my time in the process, I scurried into the classroom; books clutched to my chest, scowl firmly in place as I slid into one of the empty desks in the middle of the room, staring at the graffittied surface and watching out of my peripheral as the lanky red-head moved smoothly back into the room, occupying one of the desks behind me near the loser crowd.
"Now that Mr. Strife has decided to grace with our presence, we'll now get back to Macbeth. So Shakespeare…" I tuned out Mr. Kleine as he continued drowning on, voice deep and monotone in quality. I pulled my pencil from the rings of metal binding my notebook together and started tracing the graffiti on the desk. I didn't know how to react. The way he had spoken to me and the look on his face had not been what I had been expecting. I had been expecting a look of triumph, something to indicate pride in a job well done, but what I had actually witnessed had been cold and defensive. I paused mid tracing, but why would he be defensive? He was the one who kissed me as a way to get back at me. Not the other way around.
I barely noticed the ball of paper that flew from the side of the desk and landed on the surface, bouncing twice before coming to a rest against the tip of the pencil. I scowled at it suspiciously and resisted the urge to turn around and see who had volleyed it over. Another conundrum. Do I open or set it on fire and throw into that stupid smirking face. I drummed my fingers on the hard surface, again weighing the pros and cons. Would expulsion be worth seeing that stupid mop of red hair light up in a glorious blaze? Maybe. Was it worth possibly going to jail? Probably not.
I rolled my shoulders back and cracked my neck from side to side, trying to release the tension. Tentatively I lowered the pencil to the desk, making sure it was lying down on one of the flat surfaces of its hexagonal shape to make sure it didn't roll away and reached for the balled up piece of paper. The crumpled ball fit in my fist and I slowly brought my hand up to start pulling apart the crumpled edges.
Once the paper had been fully extended, the event depicted on it became apparent and I scowled again and resisted the urge to follow my original instinct. The sheet was divided into twelve penned rectangles, each one a tableau in shocking detail depicting different parts of the event that had plagued my thoughts for the past 16 hours. A tall lanky stick man was leaning over a shorter one on a locker, then a stick man with pointy protrusions sketched on its head in random directions approached the two other stick men. I followed the scene play out in tableau along the page and paused on the last 2 rectangles. The first was a close up of the spiky headed stickman's face, features drawn with pre-school accuracy, eyes wide with shock and large globs of what I assumed to be tears hanging from the large eyes. The last was of the spiky headed stickman running away, limbs flailing in exaggerated enthusiasm.
I crumpled the paper in my hand in breathed heavily through my nostrils, resisting the urge to scream in frustration, and slowly turned to look at Axel. When my eyes met his I paused, not sure whether to make him pay or to ignore the whole thing. The blank expression slowly twisted into a cruel smile and I felt my insides harden. That's it. I smiled back at him sweetly and raised my hand to my mouth, kissing my four fingers and then blowing softly against them in his direction, before turned back towards the front of the class. Two could play at this game. I heard a sharp inhale and the snap of a pencil and chuckled to myself. And I was determined to win.