Chapter 003
September 8, 2012
His cell phone lay on the kitchen counter, seemingly innocuous as its battery charged.
Roxas knew better.
From across the room, he glared at it, half-convinced of its sentience, that its smooth, glossy screen was in the active process of mocking him despite its present inactive state.
He'd texted the number Axel had jotted down for him almost two hours ago, a simple inquiry as to the visitors' interest in meeting up for food and drinks later that night. A response had yet to come back to him, and it was driving Roxas half crazy with distraction from what he was actually meant to be focusing on.
He realized he'd specifically been instructed to call; he'd returned to the exchange that had taken place at his workplace yesterday more times than he was comfortable admitting, even just to himself. And there was a chance the tourists wouldn't have access to text messaging services while visiting a different country. Roxas knew that. There was still something he found intimidating about the idea of having to speak to a guy who looked like Axel over the phone, especially when he didn't have a good proposal for exactly where they could go together as a group tonight.
There was also the part where he couldn't be sure if Axel had actually been flirting with him or if he was just a supremely friendly guy simply looking for a tour guide. Sure, Roxas knew what Hayner believed had been going on between the two of them yesterday. That didn't mean it had any basis in reality.
Fiddling with a cuticle on one finger while returning his gaze with determination to one of his history books laid out before him on his bed, Roxas sighed, tried to renew focus on the assigned readings for his Early Civilizations course. At least he hadn't had sleep disturbances last night, he thought, as he flipped from a chapter on Ancient China to one outlining the rise of Mesopotamian societies in the Early Bronze Age. That would have absolutely derailed his ability to study even more than his current obsession with his cell phone was managing to right now.
He settled in, resting on his stomach, knees bent and feet dangling in the air behind him as he read an introductory paragraph. Maybe it was geeky, but Roxas liked reading about the past, envisioning what life must have been like in ancient cities like Kish and Ur. To him, historical politics were a guilty pleasure, akin to his friend Olette's unabashed love of terrible soap operas and trashy reality television shows, or even Hayner's obsession with professional sports.
If only his dreams aligned more with those interests, took him to far-off places and times. That actually wouldn't be half-bad, he mused. Instead, his unconscious always seemed to opt for B-movie quality action scenes, where instead of even getting to play the hero, Roxas was relegated to the role of a whining, sniveling youth more interested in finding his mom than saving a city very obviously in distress.
The jarring sound of metal vibrating on a formica countertop pulled Roxas out of his thoughts. He looked up from his textbook, over toward the kitchen.
The screen on his cell phone was momentarily lit up to its notification screen, illuminating everything within a six inch radius of it in the inadequate natural light of his studio's kitchen area.
Roxas leapt up immediately, sprinted eagerly over to the counter. If he hadn't been alone in the privacy of his own home, he might've had the good sense to feel embarrassed about the fervor he'd just put into the movement. That rang especially true considering how unenthused he'd been about leaving his apartment this weekend in the first place …prior to yesterday's workplace encounter, at least.
Seizing the phone and separating it from its charger, Roxas clicked the power button, moving past the lock screen in record time.
…only to see a text from Hayner, asking about the plans for tonight.
Damn, Roxas thought, feeling a prickle of irritation. This giddy schoolgirl routine he'd been perpetuating all morning was starting to get ridiculous.
I haven't heard back from them yet, he texted in response, elbows resting on his kitchen counter, unconsciously mimicking the position the taller of the two men had taken yesterday, right before he'd went and gotten Roxas all flustered, and made him want to…
The phone lit up again almost immediately, vibrating as a call came through.
…a call from Hayner.
With only a moment's hesitation, Roxas accepted it, turning on the speakerphone.
"Dude," Hayner's voice crackled to life over the connection, "you texted them?"
Roxas sighed, propping his chin up on his hands. He'd had a feeling this was why Hayner had decided to call instead of continuing with their conversation via text.
"I didn't want to bother them in case they were out sightseeing," he said, feeling both defensive and more than a little lame for using such a transparent excuse.
"Bullshit you didn't," Hayner scoffed from across the line. "I saw how you two were looking at each other yesterday. You're just being a chickenshit because you think he's haaaw—"
"Fine! Okay, fine," Roxas cut him off before he could get the last word entirely out. Feeling flustered, he raked his free hand through a tangle in his hair. "I'll call now."
On the other end of the line, Hayner made an unintelligible but skeptical sound.
"It's not like I can call anyway when I'm on the phone with you." Roxas shot a withering scowl at a kitchen appliance within his direct line of sight, using it as a surrogate for his annoyance in his friend's physical absence. Christ almighty.
"Right." He heard Hayner laugh. "That's totally the reason you've been stalling all morning."
"Urgh! Bye." Roxas made a frustrated growl as he dropped the call, his friend's laughter still ringing in his ears. Hayner didn't get it, he told himself, trying to mentally dodge the truth in his friend's teasing words.
That, at least, was maybe half correct. His friend had been seeing Olette since high school, hadn't had to worry about dating etiquette since the tenth freaking grade. Roxas, on the other hand…
He padded back over to his bed, phone in hand, stomach a mess of edgy nerves. This really shouldn't be such a hard thing to do. Really, really. It was just a simple phone call.
But there was also that whole not being straight thing that vastly complicated the dating game, even in a city as progressive and generally accepting as Manhattan. That didn't necessarily make it easier to actually find people to date if you were gay. Or thought you might be, Roxas supposed. It wasn't like he'd ever seriously dated anyone to know for sure. Not really. The quick flings with a handful of girls in high school didn't count, as far as he was concerned.
It'd just always been a feeling he'd had since all the way back to high school during freshman year, some innate understanding that he was different from his friends in that regard …one that, thanks to the events of yesterday, Roxas was kind of wishing he hadn't admitted to Hayner in a moment of vulnerability about a year ago now. Not that Hayner had seemed to have a problem with it. It'd just changed things, Roxas felt, created a nearly indistinguishable divide, one that going to different colleges and choosing vastly different majors had only managed to expand, however subtly.
Now his friend was apparently trying to play matchmaker. How was it possible to even know if the visitors were gay, as Hayner so staunchly seemed to assume? It wasn't like people pranced around with glittery headbands and billowing rainbow capes to announce their orientations.
Well, he conceded, except maybe during Pride weekend.
Plopping down, Roxas pushed his textbook away and sat, back bracing his bed's headboard, knees curled up toward his chest as he fingered the edges of his phone uncertainly. He pulled up the text he'd sent to Axel, reread it once, twice, a third time, before finally clicking on the contact number and placing the phone hesitantly up to his ear.
It rang once, twice, connecting mid-way through the third ring.
"Yes?" The voice had an expectant quality to it.
He also realized a split second later that it wasn't Axel who had answered the call.
"Uh, hi …Demyx?" The blond's name sounded even odder when spoken out loud than it had all the times over the past twelve hours that Roxas had referenced it in his head. "I was wonder—I mean, it's Roxas." The words came out in a stammered rush, and Roxas felt a blush begin to creep into the far ends of his cheeks at the realization of just how fucking awkward he sounded.
A silent pause extended through to him from across the line.
"From the cafe yesterday," Roxas supplemented, feeling his embarrassment swell at the thought that the encounter might not have even been remembered. "A-Axel gave me your guys' number."
"Ah!" Finally, Demyx's voice burst to life. "You're the barista, right?"
"Right," Roxas echoed, exhaling a relieved breath of air.
"Cool! I'm putting you on speaker."
Roxas heard a muffled shuffling across the line, as though the phone was being moved, then placed somewhere central. He heard Demyx call for Axel, felt a heat begin to pulse in his chest at the mention of the taller man's name.
"So, Roxas!" Demyx said, returning to the line. "You want to give us a local's introduction to this city?"
"Yeah," Roxas said, feeling a bit tongue-tied. How dumb did it sound to just reply to things in one word sentences? His thoughts flashed back to an image of a schoolgirl, fawning over a high school crush. Pathetic.
Unaware of Roxas' self-flagellatory thoughts, Demyx chattered on. "What did you have in mind? We're open to anything."
Errrr…shit. This was always the part he got stuck on. What the crap did people his age do in this city? He hadn't had much time to find out since graduating high school, starting college, getting a job, and other…things. Before that, it'd been really juvenile stuff, meeting up at friends' houses to study, maybe going out to a movie once in awhile to waste some allowance money. One time, they'd all gone to an off-Broadway production for Olette's birthday. But their parents had come along too. Did that count?
Yeah, sure, in the way that lame-ass outings could still technically be considered outings. Roxas quickly ruled movies and stage productions out.
Perhaps sensing Roxas' uncertainty, Axel's voice rang out over the line, quieter than Demyx's as though he were speaking from a farther distance away from the phone. "I've heard the club scene is good here."
"It is, yeah," Roxas was quick to respond, relieved to be thrown any kind of bone.
At least, he stopped to consider, he assumed it was. He'd never actually gone to one, wasn't even sure if any were open to people under twenty-one.
"We both like to drink and dance." Axel's voice was lilting, resonate. "Would you be interested in doing something like that?"
"Sure. That sounds like fun."
From his spot on the bed, Roxas nervously bounced his legs a little, then swallowed hard. One, he wasn't old enough to legally drink. And, two, he was pretty sure he danced like shit. Oh god, why had he just said that?!
"Nifla!" Demyx's voice returned to the line, apparently pleased with Roxas' answering reply.
At least, that's what it sounded like Demyx had said. It was the first obviously foreign word he'd heard either man utter since meeting them. And, now that he'd heard it, Roxas felt even sillier about initially having thought either might have been a Swede. The word was unfamiliar to him, in both its inflection and implication.
Instead of remaining on the line feeling like a mute dumbass, Roxas forced his thoughts back to the topic at hand. "I'm going to see if some friends can join us. If you give me an address for your hotel, we can meet you tonight around nine." That should give him enough time to do some research about clubs online that might be feasible to visit. Hopefully, anyway.
Axel spoke again, this time reciting an address that Roxas committed to memory. Then they said their good-byes, the connection persisting in silence for a few seconds before Roxas heard it drop as someone on the other end of the line hung up.
For a moment, he remained in place, upright in bed, phone screen once again dark and unimposing in the sweaty palm of his hand. Part of him was embarrassed, utterly mortified by how the conversation had played out, even if neither man had seemed to notice his awkwardness. Another part entirely was wondering what he'd just gotten himself into, and just how far this little outing was going to set him behind with the work he actually needed to get done this weekend.
Whether he liked it or not though, Roxas was officially going to be playing Manhattan nightlife tour guide in a few hours' time. Pursing his lips a little, still not entirely sure how he felt about that thought, Roxas reached forward, sliding his textbook closer with the vague notion that he should get back to studying.
Axel's voice lingered as Roxas reached for a pen and some notepaper, writing down the address that had just been proffered. Compared to the curved, almost sophisticated lines of Axel's own handwriting, Roxas' letters were sharper, boxy blocks that were completely inelegant, in his mind.
Then, before he allowed himself to return to his readings, Roxas looked to the phone once again, accessed his recent messages, and texted Hayner the information he'd just been given before there was any chance for him to forget.
o - o
Emerging from the underground metro station closest to the address Axel had given him, Roxas took off in a sprint. Under his breath, he quietly swore.
He'd texted Hayner a warning en route that he was running late, but that didn't change the fact that he was furious with himself. He'd claimed it was an unexpected phone call that had been the culprit, but Roxas had gotten off the phone with his grandfather over an hour prior. It'd been the aimless pacing, back and forth within the cramped confines of his studio, that had really caused his current delay.
Apart from things like dreams being completely out of his control, he'd been so good lately, he thought angrily. About not getting too overwhelmed. About not freaking out or emotionally breaking down. The simple fact that he hadn't anticipated his grandpa's call had thrown him off, forced him to focus on responsibilities he was much happier pretending didn't exist. And, before he had gotten a chance to really think any of it through, Roxas had found himself agreeing to a visit with his farfar Sorenson on Sunday.
Because he totally didn't have anything else that desperately needed to get done on his last free day off this side of next week.
But Roxas had ultimately promised to visit, then hung up and quickly hopped into the shower. The next thing he became aware of was his own restless pacing, bare feet treading unfeeling, wet hair dripping all over the icy, tiled kitchen floor.
Just missing the walk sign at a stoplight, Roxas ground to an abrupt, frustrated halt. These weren't the kinds of things he could talk to Hayner about. No way. There wasn't really anyone to talk to now that he'd stopped seeing his school-appointed counselor. Like any other adult living with their own private emotional dramas, Roxas knew he just had to deal with it and try harder to move on. Because, by now, he was pretty sure that's what everyone expected him to do anyway.
He fidgeted in place, stuffed a hand into his pocket, feeling for his wallet as he tried to ignore the crush of everyone else milling about around him. The worn leather square was smooth from years of use, one of the only things he'd kept that had belonged to his father before he'd left for San Francisco. If he were stronger, Roxas thought, he'd have thrown it away years ago. Instead, he'd kept it close, for everyday use, as though clinging to inanimate objects like these made up for flesh and bone, the actual souls who'd gone missing from his life with such frequency of late.
The light turned green and Roxas was off again, dodging around other pedestrians as he traveled the remaining few blocks to his destination in record time. As he turned onto one final street and caught sight of his group, Roxas slowed, body suddenly bothering to remind him of his earlier nerves. He walked at a normal pace for the rest of the way, trying to calm the heaving, uneven breaths prompted by his sprint from the subway.
The tourists were standing, their backs facing him, apparently engaged in conversation with the rest of his group, giving Roxas a moment to mentally prepare himself. And, okay fine, taking in the well-defined lines of both figures without being noticed was also a pretty nice perk.
Man, if only he had a few more inches on him, Roxas thought, now acutely aware of his own modest height. He felt like a veritable kid compared to both foreigners, something he didn't particularly want either taking note of. There was nothing sexy about someone hot thinking you looked like elementary school jailbait.
Olette spotted him first, face lighting up with recognition. Standing between Hayner on one side and their mutual friend Pence on the other, Olette shot Roxas a smile from afar.
At least he wasn't the only short person in the group, Roxas thought, taking in Pence's more …horizontally-inclined figure, he guessed was a nice way to put it, as he approached. Olette was small too, although, being a girl, he decided she didn't really count. Standing a few inches taller than him, Hayner was still a full head shorter than Demyx in Roxas' estimation. Apparently Europeans were just made tall, assuming that's where these guys were from.
As though sensing his presence, Roxas saw Axel turn. Again, dark eyes regarded him in a way Roxas wasn't quite sure how to interpret. It seemed more meaningful than mere observation. Was he being appraised? Something else? Whatever the case, it flustered him something awful. Roxas found himself looking away almost bashfully at first.
"You finally made it." Hayner raised his eyebrows, grinning at the non-verbal exchange he'd just witnessed. Unlike with Axel, Roxas had no difficulty interpreting what his friend seemed hellbent on conveying with his own body language.
Forcing himself to stay on point and not let his friend's antics distract him tonight, Roxas forced a smile, made his expression adequately apologetic. "Yeah. Sorry for the hold-up. My grandpa can really talk my ear off when he gets going."
Both Axel and Demyx smiled politely, Demyx inclining his head a little in acknowledgement. Hayner rolled his eyes. "Family," he said to the group as a whole. "Kind of sucks to live in the same area as them sometimes."
Yeah, especially when you were specifically trying to avoid one member in particular, Roxas thought. Talk about chickenshit.
Roxas swallowed tightly, trying to keep his thoughts from drifting down that emotionally exhausting path. Now most definitely wasn't the time for it.
"Anyway," Hayner continued. "Let's get going." He turned back to Roxas. "You said this club was only a few stops away?"
Nodding, Roxas returned his hands to his pockets. "It's a few blocks away from Eight Av on the L. The place is called Vessel."
"C'mon then," Hayner said. He reached for Olette's hand and started leading the group in the direction of the underground metro station, Roxas taking up the rear. He looked down, studying the shoes and sidewalk in front of him. Unbidden, the feeling of acute anxiety returned as he remembered the mindset he'd been in at his apartment after his grandfather's call.
Pence fell back, stepped into place by Roxas' side. "This outing saved me from an evening of some real housewives TV marathon thing with Olette," he said, ambling along at the pace Roxas had set. "I owe you my deepest gratitude for getting me out of that one."
"Mm." Roxas found himself only half listening as Pence talked on about Olette's obsession with more superficial elements of the entertainment industry. They'd all been friends since grade school. With Hayner having no compunction about verbalizing his refusal to watch what he termed 'trash telly', and with Roxas living too far away to generally fall victim to Olette's guilt trips, soft-spoken, pushover Pence often found himself at Olette's every reality show-related whim more often than not. It wasn't the first time Roxas was grateful he'd opted out of rooming with his friends. Beyond the fact that their location would take him twice as long to get to school and work as his currently location already did, he found he liked living on his own. Hopefully, he'd continue being able to afford to.
Seeming to finally notice Roxas' somber mood, Pence trailed off midway through an explanation about Olette's preference for a-line over pencil skirts on America's Next Top Something-or-Another.
"Everything okay?" he asked, voice lowered so it wouldn't carry up the line to either the tourists or the rest of their friends.
"I guess." Roxas nodded, eyes still trained on the ground. Idly, he rubbed the soft leather of his father's wallet between two fingers inside his pocket. "I've just got a lot on my mind right now is all."
"Maybe I should rephrase," Pence said. "I know what day is coming up, and I just wanted to know if you're going to be okay. If you want some company on Monday, I can skip out on classes. We could go get lunch or just tool around somewhere. No big. Whatever you need."
Glancing up, Roxas met his friend's gaze out of the corner of his eye. The hard knot in his throat seemed to tighten as he forced himself to take in a breath of air. A moment later, he exhaled and felt some of the tension release, allowing him to speak once more. "Thanks. Really. I'll be fine though. I've got school and work to keep me busy."
Pence slowed, a look of surprise appearing across his face. "You're not going to go visit?"
Roxas shook his head. "I wasn't planning to," he said. He squeezed his father's wallet hard, winced as one of his fingernails bent back slightly at the force of the movement. "I have too much going on. And it's not like she'll notice anyway," he added, voice soft. What he'd said was technically true, but it still didn't make him feel any less douchey for admitting it.
Pence looked skeptical from beneath his shock of dark hair but quickly schooled his expression to something more suitably neutral. Idly, he swiped at the headband that seemed to be a permanent fixture of his daily wardrobe, pushing it up further on his forehead and away from his eyes. It wasn't really clubbing attire, but Pence wasn't generally the club-going type. Hayner and Olette were at least wearing clothing more suitable for going out, as were Axel and Demyx, their dark jeans complemented by tucked in button-up shirts of dark red and navy blue.
That was Pence though, Roxas thought, always a little oblivious about how he came off to others around him. He was honest to a fault, never telling Olette he was busy when he just didn't want to go shopping or watch television with her. He'd also acted as the voice of reason more than once when Hayner had been dead-set on engaging in questionable behavior or antics he liked to refer to as adventures. It'd led to Hayner calling Pence a wuss on more than one occasion, but it didn't change the fact that practical, circumspect Pence's advice or warnings generally tended to be right in the end.
And Roxas… Roxas figured he fell somewhere in the middle, not as big of a daredevil as Hayner but definitely not usually feeling too broken up about telling Olette he had other things to do when she wanted to gossip about celebrities or talk fashion advice.
"Okay," Pence said finally. "Still, call me if you need anything. Seriously."
"Sure." With a nod, Roxas increased his pace, forcing Pence to speed up as well, until both fell into line next to Demyx and Axel. Axel looked over, sent Roxas a smile that only served to increase the fluttering nerves at his stomach's center. Then they were entering the subway, en route to dancing and drinks, and, Roxas couldn't help but hope, adequate other ways to distract himself. At least until he had to remember again come morning.
o - o
Set in the heart of the Meat Packing District, Vessel was a dance club that had been carved out of an old warehouse space. It was also one of the few clubs that Roxas had been able to locate that let in patrons under the age of twenty-one. Once an entirely industrial, high crime area near Manhattan's waterfront, in recent decades the neighborhood had given rise to more affluent establishments, Vessel among them. Olette called the pricey little storefronts boutiques. Roxas personally thought it was just a fancier way of admitting that hipsters had taken over the area almost completely in the last few years, rendering some street blocks virtually unrecognizable from the historical photos he'd once sifted through at a local library for a high school research project a few years back.
That was sort of the rub of history though, he thought, eyes scanning the area immediately outside of the club. Everything was always changing.
They paid the cover and made it past the bouncer without issue, Roxas and his friends receiving red wristbands to indicate that they were under the legal drinking age. Axel and Demyx had both been handed green ones, although, not having seen the documentation they'd supplied upon entering, Roxas realized he still didn't know exactly how old either of them actually was.
On a Saturday night, the club felt pretty packed, despite its considerable size. The majority of club-goers were congregated on the main level's dance floor, strobes above them bathing dancers in an erratic, ever-changing spectrum of fluorescent light.
Demyx made a beeline toward the bar and lounge area on a raised platform on the club's far side, indicating the others should follow with a beckoning wave of his hand. The music's volume was so loud to his unaccustomed senses, Roxas could feel each successive, rhythmic beat at the base of his throat. He swallowed, grateful the feeling wasn't too reminiscent of what he'd been feeling during his earlier conversation with Pence, then slid into place immediately behind Hayner.
Once at the bar, Demyx looked back at the four teenagers. "What do you all want?"
Each ordered, then received a soda in turn as Demyx passed the drinks on back. Hayner pulled out his wallet to offer Demyx payment for their portion of the order, but the blond just waved them off. "I'll get the first round," he said, voice carrying over the noise of music and conversations with impressive range.
He led them over to an area of the lounge with standing tables, weaving his way through the crush of people with a lot less difficulty than Roxas found himself able to manage the same. It might've been the height difference. Or maybe Demyx and Axel were simply just that comfortable in settings like this. Either way, Roxas breathed a sigh of relief when they ultimately found a table another group had just vacated, realizing he'd managed to make it out of the bar space without spilling half of his drink in the process.
By the time they all congregated around the table, Demyx was already mostly finished with his drink, a cocktail that gave off a pink sheen even in the dimmer lighting in this area of the club. Roxas took a place next to Axel, noting that the taller man had chosen some sort of dark beer as his drink of choice. Though less crowded than the bar or dance floor, people still jostled into him on their way past, causing Roxas to brush his shoulder against the left side of Axel's arm on occasion. Once in awhile, he felt the man brush into him as well, although the lingering nature of the action seemed far more deliberate. Almost controlled.
Thank god for the crappy lighting, at least, Roxas thought as he took a sip of his Sprite with lime. It lowered the chances of Axel noticing the embarrassing flush of color creeping up his neck and into his cheeks.
They chatted about mostly mundane things for awhile, from the weather to some of the sights Axel and Demyx had already visited over the past few days. Frustratingly, it was mostly a back and forth between Demyx and Hayner, with Axel and Olette supplementing on occasion. Along with Pence, Roxas found himself mostly mute, just listening, despite the several pointed looks Hayner had been shooting his way.
What was he supposed to do, Roxas thought, annoyed. He could hardly hear the others in this din. How was he supposed to hold on a conversation with Axel, let alone manage to flirt short of doing something totally slutty to get the man's attention?
After a time, Demyx and Hayner left for more drinks, returning with considerably more than what Roxas assumed Demyx would be drinking on his own, even if Axel stepped in to help.
Sure enough, Hayner and Olette took two of the drinks. "Want one?" Demyx asked, directing the question at Roxas and Pence across the table. "This country's age limit is so stupidly high. You can drive and vote years before drinking. What's going on with that?"
Roxas shrugged, but just as quickly declined. By his side, he noted the vehement way Pence was shaking his head.
"Yeah, it's pretty lame," Hayner said, downing his drink in two easy swigs. By his side, Olette lifted the new drink glass to her lips and sipped with a bit more restraint.
"Why?" Pence said, looking toward Demyx, his voice nearly lost in the sea of noise. "What's the drinking age in your country?"
Demyx exchanged a glance with Axel, then offered the group a toothy grin. "Not twenty-one, that's for sure." He plunked his empty glass down on their table, then rubbed his hands together with a look of anticipation. "Dancing now? Anyone want to join?"
Again, Pence started to shake his head, opened his mouth most likely to bow out, but Hayner cut him off. "Yeah, that'd be cool. Come on, Pence. You too."
"I'm not— I mean, I don't think that's such a good id—" Pence started to protest. Before he could finish, Olette had grabbed him by the elbow.
"I'll show you how," she said, fluttering her eyelashes sweetly as she began to pull him away from the table. Again, Hayner shot Roxas a look before he followed his friends and Demyx away from lounge area, making their way as a group toward the dance floor.
It took Roxas a moment to realize Axel hadn't moved to join them, that it had probably been Hayner's intention to get Pence away from the table all along.
Feeling a renewed surge of nerves, Roxas made a grab for his drink and took a long sip. Too late, he realized he'd ended up with one of the cocktails Demyx had brought back on his second trip to the bar. Roxas coughed, surprised, for a moment feeling the heat of the alcohol's tingling burn at the back of his throat.
Axel watched him, amusement obvious in his otherwise relaxed expression. "Vodka's not your thing, I'm guessing?"
Roxas shook his head, convinced the man could see the embarrassed flush in his face now quite clearly. "Drinking in general isn't really my thing."
Axel took another sip from his beer glass, before returning his attention to Roxas, one dark eyebrow rising. "Not even coffee?"
"Um, I'm fine with that, actually," Roxas said, "I drink tons of it at school, especially when I have a test to study for or something. Just not, um, not usually when I'm around it all day at work."
Great. Now he was over-explaining.
He took another sip before realizing he still hadn't switched glasses. This time, Roxas forced the urge to cough back down, determined not to embarrass himself even more than he already had.
Speaking of work… "What do you do?" Roxas asked, determined to prove he wasn't completely terrible at this socializing thing.
Axel tilted his head, brows furrowing slightly. "Do?"
"For a living," Roxas supplemented. "You know, for work."
"Ah." Seeming to finally understand, Axel looked up and toward the dance floor, a contemplative expression passing across his features. Roxas followed his gaze, quickly locating his friends on the floor below. Olette was dancing near both Hayner and Pence, focusing more of her attention on Pence over her boyfriend as she held the boy's hands, encouraging him to follow the rhythm she was setting. It took Roxas a moment longer before he spotted Demyx a little ways away, and only saw him then because of a flash of pink hair nearby belonging to a man he was dancing quite closely with.
Roxas felt his face heat up even more as he watched the pair's intimate movements. Hayner was right. Demyx, at least, was definitely gay. And, maybe, this was proof that he and Axel weren't a romantic... item.
Maybe.
He felt the weight of Axel's hand on his shoulder, had to concentrate on not tensing up as a natural response to it. "I'm in securities assessment," Axel said, his face hovering close to Roxas' ear. "And compliance, technically, too."
Security and compliance - yeah, he had totally no idea what any of that meant. It gave him dueling images of a policeman and someone in finance. As Roxas turned back toward Axel, the man straightened, hand lingering for just a moment on the shoulder where he'd initially settled it before allowing it to return to his side. Roxas followed the movement with his eyes, fleetingly fixated on Axel's hand. His long, thin fingers had an almost graceful quality to them the way they came to rest at his pants pocket, making idle, subtly circular motions along the fabric's outer layer.
"What are you studying?"
Roxas looked up, blinked a little as he tried to clear the buzzing in his head and focus on what he'd just been asked. Almost of its own volition, he saw his arm reach back toward the table, securing the vodka glass he'd been drinking from in one hand. "Political Science," he said, lifting the drink back to his lips. The flavor didn't seem so strong on his third taste. Or, actually, the fourth.
"And History," he added, as if suddenly remembering.
"Both interesting subjects," Axel said, tucking a wayward tress of thick brown hair behind one ear. The man was smiling again with that same expression from yesterday, as if he was privy to the punchline of a joke Roxas hadn't even heard the opening line to, leaving him completely in the dark as to what was so outwardly amusing. Somehow though, it didn't seem like he was being mocked.
Then again, that could also have just been the alcohol softening his interpretation of it.
Roxas finished the remainder of the drink, deciding that right now it didn't particularly matter. Then, finding he was kind of enjoying the buzzed feeling and the confidence that seemed to come along with it, Roxas reached for Olette's half finished glass and polished that sucker off too.
He felt a hand close gently over the band on his wrist, noticed how the touch sent a jolt of tingling electricity up his arm as Axel began to silently encourage him to walk forward.
"Let's catch up with your friends," Axel eventually said. "Maybe do a little dancing of our own."
Normally, Roxas would have protested. But normally, he also wouldn't have finished even that one drink once he'd realized his mistake, let alone find himself downing almost two. Between the drink and his steadily increasing confidence, he was feeling more open to new things. Even a little reckless. Almost by default then, Roxas found himself willingly allowing Axel to lead him along.
Especially if there would be some hand-holding on the dance floor. Maybe additional touching beyond simply brushing shoulders…
His thoughts were whirling, like water poured into a funnel, initially all over the place as he considered the possibilities, before they began to converge into one, all-encompassing line of focus. As they made their way down the lounge steps, Roxas tugged back on Axel's hand, got the man to slow his descent as he turned to look back upward. Roxas looked down at him, feeling a little silly in his current state for only thinking to ask what was on his mind just now.
"So, where did you say you were from?"
The slow smile returned, a hint at the corners of Axel's lips as Roxas took him in, watched the dancers below creating a frame of indistinct movement all around him. Roxas would return to that image even days later, still savoring the sensuality behind it, allowing it to remind him of everything that had come after: the dancing, more sweetly alcoholic drinks. Bodies touching, electronic music engulfing him entirely, as it pulsed through his chest and into his throat.
In this moment though, it was all about the subtle curve of the man's lips. That impish, knowing look.
"Truth be told," Axel said, his accented words an assured, lilting drawl. "I never actually did."