A/N: Dedicated to Sylver Eyes. She wanted me to write Axel/Aerith, so I did. There's also one-sided Roxas/Aerith, hinted Cloud/Aerith, a smidge of Leon/Aerith and even a teensy weensy bit of Tifa/Aerith towards the end if you squint just right. AkuRoku is also present; because I found in my writing this it virtually impossible to write Axel without some mention of Roxas.
I know it's been forever since I last updated this, but hopefully the wait was worth it? Be a dear and let me know, darlings. (:
Disclaimer: Um . . . do I look like Tetsuya Nomura to you?
Heartprism
» (Jonquil : Desire)
The party is supposed to be an intimate affair; twenty to thirty people gathered together, yet no less than the entire town of Radiant Garden shows up for the momentous occasion. The place is teeming full of party-goers of every shape and size, so no one pays any heed to the male with tiny teardrop tattoos under his neon green eyes that walks through the cobblestone square. The collection of flaming infrared-colored hair he has on his head recoils with every step as he casts his gaze to and fro — between the dancing and the crystal on the punch table, between the flashes of color and the displays of genial affection, he finds her.
Pale, ornate and refined, her slender form is clad in a lacy dress the hue of polished pink quartz, with an identical ribbon in her braided, chestnut hair. Her porcelain cheeks are stained with pomegranate rose, gemmed, preciously polished emerald orbs glimmering like light and jewels. She is leaning against the wall, a dainty hand over mouth, trills of laughter escaping despite her best efforts to contain them.
This is the chick Roxas has the hots for.
Some sweet-faced flower girl who sells bouquets of blooms on the cobblestone streets of the boringly perfect small town that is Radiant Garden. She does, of course, belong in a place as beautiful as this.
With a glowering, smug look playing upon his features, Axel saunters up to pastel-clad female, paying no heed when he only earns a gentle smile in return.
"Hello. I don't believe you're from around here," she politely prompts, her voice a startling heavenly melody that slices through the heavily orchestrated room. A bubbling uproar of gossip and laughter pierces into her soft words. Words doused in innocence. Well. She's surprisingly perceptive, he'll give her that. The pyro takes yet another step towards the seraphic being — ember and competitive determination dancing in his gaze.
"You caught me," he states dryly. "Mind if I ask you a question?"
"Depends. Who's asking?" She tilts her head to one side, curious and thoughtful. Shock passes over his eyes for a second or so at her insistent inquiry, then impassive confidence quickly replaces it.
"Axel," he says, not missing a beat. He taps the side of his head with a single finger for emphasis. "A-X-E-L. Got it memorized?"
"Well, Axel — my name's Aerith."
Axel raises an eyebrow, slanting her a needled smile. "I know," he replies rather bluntly, and is granted immediate satisfaction when she blinks, before continuing on to tempt information from her. ". . . what's your relationship to Roxas?"
"Pardon?" she asks.
Silence lapses between them, and somehow Axels knows instantly that the white blossom — "Jonquil,"he recalls Roxas telling him quite seriously — had been so gingerly touching was obtained from Aerith. The memory flashing through his eyes strikes him for some reason, the golden-haired boy's fingers tracing ivory petals with ebony-clad hands. He wonders why his stomach knots in unease, wonders about the sudden gasp of relief and frustration that springs to his throat; "You. Roxas. How did that happen?"
Aerith tucks a strand of hair behind the creamy shell of her ear, and actually chuckles. Her jade irises brighten as they look at Axel, and quickly, her perfect, rosy lips dance into another amiable smile, only intensifying its bliss. "He started coming in to buy flowers. We started talking. We became friends." Her face seems to take on a thoughtful look as she murmurs those words.
"He was . . . lonely. There is something to be said, Axel, for someone who accepts you gratefully, wonderfully, half in awe, and half in respect of you. He reminds me of someone else I know," she muses so suddenly he is taken aback by the revelation, and her light apple green eyes stray from his. "Roxas," her voices goes soft and low, as if about to shed light on something more, before she turns back to the subject at hand.
"He's one of my dearest friends."
The fiery-haired boy is only able to stare at Aerith with a disbelieving look. Friends? It sounds like Roxas thinks of it as more than pure friendship, for sure; what with the way his brilliant azure eyes positively light up and he talks about the flower girl breathlessly and with longing like she's an effing angel. That is, when he isn't being a generally cold, stoic bastard or devouring his precious sea-salt ice cream regardless if it's summer, autumn, winter, you name it. Axel can't help but think that slightly strange. Just slightly.
"Oh, that's too bad," he comments airily, semi-regaining his arrogant control. Wearing a mask of mock-hurt and a plastered pout on his face, Axel crosses his arms and tilts his head; the green of his eyes burn brightly as he watches her cheeks fever with a pinkish glow. His smooth voice is coaxing, knowing, waiting to see if she'll take the bait.
And she does. "I'm sorry, what is?"
He doesn't think about the act at all, not when he knows his craft so well; the redhead's gleaming eyes flicker with pity as he sighs dramatically — long and drawn-out. "Too bad for Roxas that there's someone else already in the picture."
"There isn't," Aerith's reply is soft and automatic, though her tone is accompanied with a slight strain filled with hope. She averts her gaze from his to the floor then around the room as if searching for something, no, someone, and waiting for the mysterious individual to make their appearance known. The unspoken words are something of a secret, but what she really means is, He's not here.
Before Axel can comprehend his actions, he finds both of his gloved hands descending roughly on either side of her long, slender arms.
"Jeez, so your lover boy left you all alone to fend for yourself? Now that's just plain sad." His voice is nearly convincing, but his features are not.
"No, because the ones dearest to me are always close by where it matters most — in my heart," Aerith's voice is serenading and sugary-sweet to his ears, and a part of the pyro surges with amusement at the innocent and naiveté quality. Her face lights up a little — a mischievous thought is running through her mind when she spots the sardonic twist of his lips. "You're a close friend of Roxas', yes? Surely you must understand what I mean."
He is immediately taken aback by this. Initially, the flame-haired man did not expect much from this flower girl better compared with a doll, actually — girl doll. With the flawless milky skin, warm smile and simplistic pink dress, she looks like she is better suited sitting on a high shelf and simply looking exquisite, out of sight and out of mind. Just when he thinks he's got her figured out, she surprises him.
Axel just has to smirk.
Aerith is turning out to be more fun than he'd ever imagined.
Chuckling slightly, he continues to peer at her through mint-tinted orbs at half mast, his long fingers drumming slightly along her shoulder blade. Beneath the creamy skin, the dappled shade of fuchsia painting her face expands, moving down her neck as the moment stretches. Tantalizing shivers begin to trickle up and down her spine, he notices interestedly, and a cocky grin surfaces once more on his features; and then he's lowering his head to press his lips close to her ear, pushing himself right up against her and her back flat on the wall. The close physical contact is foreign to her, he knows this, and it makes this all the better.
"I can't say I do," Axel eventually says from between sneering lips, "seeing as how I have no heart."
And then her breath stops. Leaning back, he eyes Aerith closely, bright green orbs colliding with bright green orbs. Their faces are just movements away from a delicate kiss. For a moment, he wonders if those pair of plush lips will taste as honey-sweet as they undoubtedly look —
"AERITH!" is the harried shout that slashes through the air like a knife.
Brows arching, he looks up over his shoulder to spot a tall man pushing through the crowd. Brown hair covering his features and his complexion pale, his icy ocean eyes are a vivid flash; their depths swirling angrily, alight with tumultuous fireworks of rage as they take in the ebony-clad figure who contrasts so vibrantly against the slimmer, more feminine frame of the flower girl in front of him. His body looks taut with tension, a strange sword — a gunblade — already at his disposal. A smaller, dark-haired teenaged girl appears quickly beside him, calling behind her:
"Heartless!"
What began as a tranquil night, full of convivial splendor, soon transforms into one of swelling panic and filled with horrified shrieks at that single, exclaimed word. In an instant, the people in the cobblestone square quickly begin to disperse in every which direction, turning tables over, tearing down colorful decorations and running several of the fallen quite literally over in their mad race to flee to safety.
"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," Axel drawls with a snort, shaking his head at the ensuing chaos around him — oh, this is just too awesome for him to handle. The redhead soon finds himself guffawing at the townspeople's stupidity, the air escaping from his lungs in unsteady bursts; but the laughing suddenly subsides once his malachites catch sight of a busty female with shiny black hair and clenched fists, zooming in on him closer and closer by the second.
". . . looks like we'll have to postpone until further notice," Axel announces almost ruefully. He releases Aerith from his grip, who immediately slumps to the ground in a disgraceful heap. A curving of his mouth appears full force that is neither friendly nor mirthful in nature as he directs it at the tensed forms of her wannabe saviors.
"Catch ya later, flower girl," he says, and after giving her a sort of mocking salute, disappears in a swirl of darkness.