Chapter 013
"I'm thinking about asking someone out."
The declaration seemed to come from nowhere, in the midst of a quiet study session one weekday afternoon. Lingering in the air long after its speaker had finished talking, it demanded attention the way a car alarm alerts everyone of its presence within a four city block radius.
Dutifully, Roxas looked up from his civics text and eyed Hayner from the spot he'd been lounging on his bed.
"Like, on a date?"
Swiveling to face him in Roxas' desk chair, Hayner shot his friend an impatient look. "No, to the next mathlete club meeting."
Roxas rolled his eyes before returning to the textbook laid out in front of him. "Don't be a dick. I was just clarifying."
"Don't ask questions with obvious answers and I won't need to be." Hayner reclined as far back as Roxas' desk chair would allow, his math homework abandoned, a mechanical pencil hanging out one side of his mouth.
"No, but seriously. I need some advice."
Sighing a little, Roxas didn't bother to look up. He had a social studies quiz in the morning, and Hayner's short attention span was going to risk him failing, or at least getting a lower grade than he found personally acceptable. As his mom and dad had repeatedly told him, it was never too early to start thinking about college. Despite the distance that separated them, it was the one thing both parents seemed to be in agreement about on an impressively consistent basis.
"Because I'm so experienced when it comes to asking girls out…"
Hayner mimicked the sigh, exaggerating it further to make it sound more tortured than the tired sound that Roxas had just offered up. "I'm aware you think you're a social reject of the highest order, you sarcastic shit. That's not what I wanted to ask about."
This did get his attention. Suppressing the urge sigh yet again, Roxas wedged a sheet of notepaper into his text to bookmark his place, then closed it before twisting over from his stomach into a more upright position.
He shot Hayner an expectant look. "I'm listening."
Instead of speaking, Hayner leaned forward, removing the pencil from his mouth before pressing his elbows into the tops of his bent knees. He jabbed the butt of his pencil a few times to extend the lead, then held his thumb down long enough to push it back in. "Dude, this is awkward."
"Why?" Roxas asked, brows rising as he watched his friend repeat the action with his pencil, noting that it was probably borne of some sort of nervousness, which really wasn't like Hayner at all. Although he wasn't the pinnacle of high school popular, Hayner was confident and made friends easily. Asking someone on a date really shouldn't have been a big deal for him, even if it was still a relatively untested undertaking.
A thought came to him and Roxas sat up a little straighter. "Is it someone older? Or, wait, younger?" He shot his friend a mischievous grin. "Don't keep me hanging here. The possibilities are endless and I've always had such a vivid imagination."
He'd expected Hayner to glare at him, maybe, for the gentle rib, or at least tell him to go to hell or fuck off in an attempt to regain the verbal upper-hand. Instead, his friend cleared his throat, color rising to his cheeks, before he opened his mouth to answer.
"Actually, it's Olette."
Roxas froze, his own mouth half-open in surprise, a comical look of bewilderment flashing across his face.
That was… not what he'd been expecting.
Seeing the expression Roxas was shooting him, Hayner laughed, the sound awkwardly petering out as he scratched the back of his neck. His eyes rose to Roxas' ceiling fan, then darted around to various other parts of the room. "Don't look at me like that, man. It's not that bad."
When Roxas didn't immediately respond, Hayner glanced back down, his own carefully nonchalant expression faltering. "I mean…is it?"
"Um." Roxas stalled in an attempt to gather his thoughts. Hayner dating anyone on a more serious basis had never really featured in his active thought process on more than the most superficial of levels. His friend had taken girls to middle and high school dances before, sure, and at the back of his mind, he remembered that Hayner generally had no difficulty when it came to flirting or getting girls to notice him. Thinking about him doing couples-type things with Olette was a whole other level of weird that Roxas was having trouble completely wrapping his mind around though.
So much for that vivid imagination of his.
"I don't think bad is exactly the right word for it," Roxas said, choosing his words carefully. "It's, just, she's our friend."
Hayner stopped his fidgeting, fixing Roxas with a steady look. "I get that. It's just, I mean, I feel like I'm starting to see her a little different lately. I dunno." He dropped his gaze again, down to the floor between them, the last few words low and mumbled. It was the most vulnerable Roxas had ever seen his best friend act, in public or private. "I suck at explaining stuff like this."
Swinging his legs at the edge of the bed, Roxas' expression turned thoughtful as he tried to envision seeing two of his closest friends doing relationship things. Holding hands: okay, he guessed. Kissing: kind of gross. Anything beyond that, he didn't really want to think about.
"Yeah," he murmured without much conviction.
"Hey." The tone of Hayner's voice made Roxas look up. His friend looked back at him, head slightly tilted as though he was trying to work something through in his mind. "Me thinking about asking her out isn't going to bother you, is it?" He pressed his lips together, a subtle indicator of his discomfort as he seemed to be working through what he wanted to say further. "Or even," he ventured, "be, like, a conflict of interest?"
Despite the awkwardness of the conversation, Roxas half-snorted. "I think you'd be better off worrying about that with Pence."
Hayner kept looking at him, apparently unconvinced, as though he thought Roxas wasn't quite being one hundred percent straight with him. "Pence got over his unrequited love in fourth grade," he murmured. Despite how seriously he seemed to be taking the conversation, a ghost of a smile appeared at the corners of his mouth. "No worries there."
Unsure what to say, Roxas kept quiet, until the air began to feel thick and stifling between Hayner and him. Sensing the increasing tension, Roxas tried to relieve it through the nonchalant action of flopping onto his back, knees bent and feet just grazing the floor, at the foot of his bed. "It seems like you've got all your bases covered then."
"You're sure?" Although he couldn't see Hayner's expression, Roxas could still feel his friend's eyes on him.
"You have my blessing, or whatever," he affirmed. "One hundred percent." He twisted back onto his stomach and reached for his civics book before glancing back Hayner's way. "Although, FYI, I reserve the right to be weirded out by this whole thing well into the future."
With a grin, Hayner twirled his mechanical pencil between two fingers and swiveled back toward the math homework on Roxas' desk. "Okay, cool. I owe you one, man." When Roxas didn't respond, he supplemented. "Like, if you need help hooking up with someone, just say the word. I know a decent number of the girls in our year."
Roxas took a moment to consider the offer, tried to visualize himself walking down the halls hand-in-hand with any of the classmates he figured Hayner could possibly be referencing. Something about the image seemed off to him, although it wasn't anything he was comfortable dwelling on. Cracking open his book again, Roxas slid out his notes and scanned the first line without really reading it.
"Thanks," he said, reaching for his own pencil. "But I think I'll pass for now."
"Master Roxas?"
The words were muffled, nearly inaudible, as though coming to him from a distance. Roxas didn't respond.
"Are you awake?"
This time, there was more volume to the inquiry. It pierced the membrane of heavy insentience as Roxas struggled to drag himself out from the lethargy of sleep and make an effort to reorient himself to his surroundings.
The room was dark. With the window shades not fully covering a line of sunlight filtering in from the opposite end of the room, it was also obvious that it was daytime. A quick scan of the room told him there was nothing particularly notable about the space where he had been sleeping, nothing that could help ground him more firmly in a specific time or place.
The voice, polite and sedate, was more memorable.
Elio, his mind offered up.
Then, Demyx. …and Axel.
The abduction. Annuate Palace. Falling towers.
Oh, right. Life as he knew it was over.
Just like that, nothing really felt like it mattered again. He hadn't tried to escape the night prior, hadn't even attempted to make a run for the front door after Tifa had passed him off to another staff member on his way out of the dining hall. He hadn't cared anymore at that point, and he wasn't sure he cared now either. He just wanted to be left alone, needed some time to process the suffocating, all-encompassing grief that kept coming in waves every time he was conscious enough to process it.
Even his unconscious wasn't content to leave him be. His face felt flushed, the details of his dream half-filtering into his immediate thoughts, and Roxas had the good sense to feel embarrassed about the evidence of his lingering physical reaction. He'd been dreaming about making out with his abductor, and other …stuff. That had to be a new level of fucked in the head. The rest of the dream had been a jumble of incoherent words, with Axel's residence and Demyx's smiling countenance the only familiar aspects that'd made any remote sense.
"Master Roxas?" the voice came again. "I am sorry to impose, but may I enter?"
With a heavy sigh, Roxas finally offered an answer. "Yeah. Come in."
The word came out as a half-rasped mutter, the dryness in his throat only serving as a reminder of the Manhattan dust he'd inhaled during the cataclysm of the day before. As Elio entered, Roxas pushed the bedsheets down and swung his legs over the side of the bed, lips pursing into the hint of a testy scowl.
The man's steps were brisk, his arms holding a dark wooden tray as he made his way over to a small desk across from the bed. "Everyone has already eaten breakfast. It was decided to allow you as much time to sleep as was feasible," he said, bending slightly to place the tray on the desktop. "You may eat here, then dress, and make your way down to the main entry."
Roxas blinked, trying to force himself into a state of more alert wakefulness as he watched Elio, wide-eyed and wordless. The man continued to speak, seemingly unconcerned with Roxas' silent treatment.
"I assume you can find your way on your own. If not, simply press the notification pad by the door and I will return."
Stretching his arms in an attempt to work out the kinks of sleep and wake himself up a little more, Roxas' gaze passed over the band around his wrist. In light of the revelations of the night before, he was finding himself caring about its continued presence a whole lot less as time wore on.
"It has been determined that you should re-familiarize yourself with the city today," Elio continued, speaking in the same steady monotone. "Axel has agreed to be your guide this morning."
That did catch Roxas' attention. Before he could suppress the expression, his brows furrowed at the heels of a visible grimace.
So, he'd be seeing his own personal clown-haired kidnapper some more today after all. Fucking great.
Even that negative thought came out half-hearted in Roxas' mind. He just didn't have the energy to fully invest himself in any emotion right now. Apparently that included unadulterated distaste.
He felt like he should say something, rather than just sit at the edge of his half-invisible bed acting like a full-fleged deaf-mute. The problem was, quite simply, Roxas had no idea what was expected of him under these bizarre circumstances.
For his part, Elio didn't seem particularly bothered by Roxas' silence, and he continued speaking as though it was quite the norm to be having a one-sided conversation. "There are some clothes your size hanging in the wardrobe. Take your time eating. Axel will automatically be notified once you leave your room."
Finally, Roxas found his voice. He could have thanked Elio for breakfast, might have considered explaining how he needed some time alone today to process the agonizing emotions of loss and grief pulsing within the deepest region of his chest.
What came out instead was a considerably deadpan, "I hate these clothes."
Although Elio's expression didn't change, the confession felt rude to Roxas, his tone unnecessarily harsh. Despite having woken up feeling like a singular shade of 'slept like utter shit', Roxas found himself wanting to soften the impudent declaration in some way.
"It's just, they're uncomfortable because they feel different from what I'm used to."
"Of course." Elio nodded. "I can look into locating fabric that is more to your liking. In the interim, you might consider simply wearing the clothing you arrived in."
"I… what?" Roxas blinked, not sure he'd heard Elio exactly right.
"Master Demyx had your Twenty-One century clothing brought to the Annuate. They have been cleaned and mended and were placed in the closet when this room was prepared for your arrival last night."
Oh. That made sense — and was actually kind of …thoughtful. They weren't the nicest clothes, by any means, but they were miles better than freak-tastic sparkling diamond pajamas. Worlds of improvement, even.
In that moment, although his expression didn't change and he didn't say anything publicly, Roxas decided that, of everyone he'd encountered so far in the twenty four hours since his abduction, he liked Elio best.
Elio turned, regarding Roxas with the same placid expression en route to the door. "I will leave you to your meal and preparations." As he passed the bed where Roxas was still sitting, he slowed just a little. "Things will get easier, if I may opine on the matter, sir."
Roxas looked up, surprised at the comment. Elio's tone hadn't changed, but the words seemed to hold additional reassuring warmth.
"I am also available," Elio continued, brows rising just slightly in an expression of subtle empathy, "should you need a sounding board or begin to feel in any way overwhelmed."
The man continued on, taking his leave before Roxas had time to formulate a response.
He remained in place at first, sitting at the edge of the bed, pondering Elio's parting words.
Really, all he wanted to do was go back to sleep at this point. The thought of seeing Axel rankled, of interacting with anyone at the moment, actually. He had no appetite, no interest in even leaving this prison of a room at present. The only thing that had spoken to him even just a little was the mention of his old clothing, or being able to wrap himself up in something even remotely familiar.
Sighing again, Roxas stood. Passing the desk on his way to the closet, Roxas glanced at the breakfast Elio had brought to him. With mild surprise, he noted that everything on the plate was recognizable: Pancakes, fruit, and what looked like a glass of orange juice. What a complete departure from the night before.
Not that it really mattered.
As he got within a few paces of the closet, its doors opened of their own volition, revealing a line full of the same pajama-like clothing he was still wearing now. They appeared to be floating, no actual hangers required. Scanning the available options, Roxas' gaze fell on the familiar colors of his work uniform, folded neatly on a shelf above the bobbing apparitions that passed for clothes here. He reached up and retrieved them, grateful to see something he recognized from his life back home.
He changed quickly, relieved to see that the clothes were not only clean but that the pant leg had been mended to the point where he couldn't even find where the tear had originated. Finally up out of bed and feeling the most like himself since his arrival, Roxas headed over to the desk and decided to make an attempt at eating breakfast.
Pulling out a chair, he sat and considered the food in front of him, eyes traveling over it, still feeling mildly hesitant. He didn't genuinely believe it was meant to be anything other than nourishment, but the memory of Zexion's claim that he'd been drugged still lingered, and the only conclusion Roxas could reach was that Axel had somehow managed to slip something into his food or drink on their last dinner together before he'd been brought here.
It didn't really make sense to drug him when Elio had just mentioned an impending tour of his new surroundings. With his matter of fact statements and polite, respectful demeanor, Elio also didn't strike him as someone with an inclination to lie.
Beyond the small food tray, Roxas noted his cell phone and wallet placed one on top of the other at the very far edge of the desk. He assumed he must have removed them from his pockets yesterday before bed but couldn't remember off-hand. He'd been too overwhelmed by memories that seemed just as keen to assault his vulnerable psyche as Axel had been in the act of physically transporting him here in the first place.
He took a tentative bite of a strawberry, felt relief when the taste was as he'd expected, then took another. There was no way he was going to be able to eat all of what Elio had provided considering how he was currently feeling, but he'd at least give it a sincere effort. Seeing Axel on an empty stomach just didn't seem like the brightest of ideas, particularly if he wanted to be at his most alert, Roxas figured. From there, he tried his best to stop thinking about his impending meeting and began to eat what he was able to.
Soon finished, Roxas stood again. He reached for his wallet and phone, fingers curled around the familiar shapes of both as he wandered over to the window located directly opposite his bed. Once there, he paused, regarding the line of sunlight peeking through otherwise dark, heavy shades. He didn't really need to open it; the room's lights had been increasing in brightness since the moment Elio had entered and were at a comfortable luminosity already.
Still, he was more than a little curious.
Reaching forward, grasping the thick, velveteen material of the shades that, yet again, seemed just to be floating without being attached to so much as a rod above him, Roxas drew them back, letting as much of the late morning light into the room as was possible.
He leaned forward, bracing his upper body, elbows locked and palms down on the window's sill, and got his first view of the outside world.
This …was not Manhattan.
It didn't even remind him of any of the neighboring buroughs. With cobbled stone streets and single family residences that looked hundreds of years old, the closest comparison Roxas could summon was to a small New England town.
Even that was an inapt approximation. It was hard to put his finger on it, but something just seemed off. Or a few things. It was like Roxas was looking through glass that was offering a slightly distorted view of reality, something so subtle that only having seen the original example could possibly have tipped him off to the distinctions between it and what he was currently seeing.
There were no birds. That was one of the most obvious differences and something he vaguely remembered Demyx telling him the day before. No birds meant no bird sounds that he was so accustomed to hearing back home, even though the window was cracked enough to be able to hear outside sounds from nearby. He tried to put his finger on what else was off with zero success, the silent admission that he couldn't solve that minor mystery just as unsettling as knowing something was different in the first place.
Looking down, Roxas lifted his sole two belongings to eye level, focusing first on the phone. He pressed the power without any hope that there would be a signal, even now that he was above ground.
There wasn't. And, having been left on all night, he was down to about one-third of its full battery life. With a quiet sigh and the primary objective of saving what little charge was left, Roxas powered it off and slid it back into its rightful place in his pants pocket.
He turned his attention to the wallet next, flipping it open and holding it in both hands like a small book. In a way, it was a story, one of the few things that spoke of his true identity and life outside this bewildering place. Eyes scanning his student ID, a debit card, monthly transit pass, and a few other assorted discount cards he'd picked up on trips to his favorite food spots, Roxas slid a finger into the billfold and spread it open to take in its contents without much outward interest. There were just a few low-value bills nestled in between two worn pieces of leather and lining fabric.
And a photo that had once been seen as an obstruction, what had become a cast-off for one parent and then later a cherished memento to his son.
Roxas pulled it out and studied the smiling family captured in Polaroid perpetuity, accepting the dull ache in his chest as his eyes passed over both of his parents, before they paused on his own, youthful face.
He'd been so happy that day, Roxas remembered with acute clarity. His dad had managed to get a Friday off of work for the first time in ages, and his mom had let him have a double scoop of ice cream, even though dinner was fast approaching. The weather had been hot but the breeze kept it from being too stifling, sand warm on bare feet, the shoreline water crisply cold, refreshing.
He'd been so happy, Roxas allowed himself to acknowledge again, but he'd also been so very naive. A day trip one state north hadn't been enough to fix a marriage that was already cracking at the foundation stone. It hadn't stopped the bickering, the hushed but angry exchange of words after his parents had thought he'd already fallen asleep each night. Deep down, Roxas knew he'd even been residually aware of that then, even if his younger self hadn't wanted to fully appreciate it and follow it to its logical conclusion.
In this perplexing situation, among people who treated him kindly but were holding him against his will, Roxas realized that he was perpetuating the same head-in-the-sand mentality now.
No matter how much he wanted to forget the terror of the events that had taken place yesterday, to blot out the faces of each of his friends and let the foreignness of his current surroundings wash over him and allow him to forget, he knew he shouldn't. In fact, he couldn't help but think that, in so doing, it was nothing short of an insult to his friends' memories, that one of the most egregious offenses would be to allow himself a measure of blissful ignorance when it came to that, specifically.
He'd been doing it with his mom and her illness for the better part of a year. Deep down, Roxas knew he didn't have the energy to put up a similar front when it came to Hayner, Pence, and Olette.
With that in mind, he looked out the window again, and slipped the photo back into his wallet's billfold, then turned. Without another glance at anything else in the room, Roxas made his way toward the door, toward Axel, and whatever this new world had in store for him.
o - o
As he made his way back toward the entry foyer, Roxas began to mentally prepare himself for his next encounter with Axel. He'd run through what he might say, how he should act. The possibilities seemed virtually endless, but then so did the journey.
This so-called home where Axel apparently lived wasn't exactly small.
Really, without the help of a few members of the household staff, Roxas probably would have found himself hopelessly lost and wandering in circles around the upper levels until time collapsed onto itself and Axel's flame-red hair turned a dull shade of lusterless grey. Each hall looked the same, every door essentially identical and emblazoned with what looked like one indistinguishable ornate crest after the other.
Let Axel wait though, as far as Roxas was concerned, while he navigated down one stairway and then another. Any little ounce of discomfort he could offer up was fine by him at this point. Even if it was petty, it felt good to feel like he was in control of even something as arbitrary as the time he made it to their predetermined meeting place.
He didn't want to stop and think that the reason it felt good was because it was the only small facet of his life he had any form of jurisdiction over at the moment.
He'd settled on aloof and apathetic as his attitudes of choice, had just stored away a few nominal comments that would work in response to a variety of questions or statements, when he turned the final corner to a stairwell that overlooked the entryway.
What Roxas hadn't factored into any of his calculations about personality choices or acerbic responses was that Axel might not be waiting for him downstairs alone.
Clad in the same long black coat Roxas had seen him in yesterday, Axel was standing right about where Tifa had first appeared before last night's dinner, hands in his pockets, looking down — with Demyx standing right beside him.
While Axel remained stock still, a veritable statue in the entryway, Demyx was all bouncy, jittering movement, like he didn't possess the self-control to stand still for even a moment. He was whistling an unfamiliar melody, eyes traveling the space with familiarity, an eager expression gracing boyish features. Like a little kid, Roxas observed, except with a mullet.
With Axel's eyes downcast, it was Demyx who spotted him first, eyes homing in on him when Roxas was about halfway down the stairs. Catching Roxas' gaze, Demyx waved, beckoning him over, like he was trying to catch his attention in a crowded room.
Because there were so many other people around at the moment that might make it hard for Roxas to see two tall near-strangers dressed like emo vampires in the entry of what amounted to a palace masquerading as a single-family house…
Roxas made his way down to them both without a word, taking in a stoic, unmoving Axel alongside his much more animated companion.
"You made it." Demyx was practically beaming as he clasped his hands together in front of him. "This is gonna be such a blast. Have you eaten yet?"
Still taken a little aback by Demyx's radiating exuberance, particularly in comparison to how he was still aching every time even the smallest of thoughts turned to his family and friends, Roxas found himself just staring at first. Wordlessly, he nodded.
"Ah, okay." Demyx seemed to deflate a little. "We'll save the butter pies for later then."
Axel made a sound at the back of his throat, half-cough, half a scornful sort of laugh, Expression practiced and tensely set, Roxas' attention moved away from the mullet-sporting blond to fix on red hair, green eyes, and the increasingly familiar purple marks below both. Returning his look with a level one of his own, Axel jerked his head toward the door, chin rising in a sharp, diagonal line. "Let's get going."
So they left.
They exited the over-sized residence and ended up out on the cobbled stone street Roxas had seen from his bedroom window. That's when Roxas made his second observation about the differences between this place and what he'd always known to be his own urban Manhattanite world.
There were no cars, not even parked.
Absent a boatload of money to throw at a permanent garage space or bank account crippling monthly parking rates, Manhattan wasn't the greatest place in the world to own a car. Even though Roxas himself had never owned one and didn't so much as have his drivers license, that hadn't stopped so many other people in the city from driving them and glutting the roads with plumes of fuel. The city was bursting with vehicles from beaters that looked like they'd come out of a B-list 80s movie to cars that rivaled his private university's annual tuition fees.
As they wound their way up and out of a small cul-de-sac and onto a larger, more open outdoor space, Roxas saw plenty of streets, but there were pedestrians walking in them, apparently unmindful of the distinction between roads and sidewalks.
"We'll take you through Aeon Square, into Secular, and then on over to Millennium." Axel spoke without looking back, his walking strides long enough that Roxas had to half-jog to keep up. "We got a late start," he continued, voice still irritatingly one-note, like he was reciting lines from a pre-planned script, "so some of this tour will end up being cursory, at best."
It wasn't just his tone that was off-putting. Eyes fixed up in the direction they were traveling, Axel wasn't even looking at him, like it wasn't even worth the effort to talk to him directly. If pressed, Roxas would never have been able to explain his gut response, but the further they walked, the more fury began to build in his chest, behind his eyes, pulsing, vehement.
Axel had abducted him, had thought he was important. Now the same man was acting like he was an irritation, a burden he'd resigned himself to having to live with and apparently tote around this weird-ass city. And all the while, Demyx practically skipped beside them, either wholly oblivious to the dark mood both of his companions were in or willfully ignorant, possibly.
They passed a fountain in the middle of a nearby square, Roxas processing its presence from a mere side glance. It was enough to make him hesitate, to slow his pace so he could take a closer look and note a beat later that there wasn't anything unusual about it. It was made of stone and flowing water, with complementing embellishments in what might've been marble and copper. He'd even spotted the twinkle of coins scattered across the bottom, just like something he might have seen back home.
Still, Roxas couldn't help but feel like it was more than just a familiar feeling about the outdoor architecture that had made him pause.
Finals. Humming. A possessive embrace. Sixties holographic technology at its finest.
They were fast leaving him behind, but Roxas remained rooted in place, still studying the fountain, brows furrowed and head subtly cocked. It was Demyx who ultimately noticed that they were down one member of their party, Demyx who reached for Axel's elbow and got him to stop and turn.
"Hey!" The word came out barked, harsh. It made Roxas flinch, despite his best efforts to school his body into its former stillness.
Axel was looking at him, eyes slightly narrowed. "We don't have time for this," he called, and Roxas felt the prickling of discomfort in his limbs as he pulled identical words from his memory of the traumatic events from just a day ago. Seemingly oblivious to the significance of the sentence he'd just uttered, Axel gestured toward himself and Demyx. "Keep up, will you?"
The intense feeling of pent-up anger returned. Visibly scowling, Roxas took one last glance at the fountain, hoping the subversive action would send a clear message to Axel, then turned heel and sprinted toward both men. He supposed he could've tried to make a run for it. Again. But where the hell he could even run to when he was in an unfamiliar environment was currently beyond him, and not a risk he wanted to place bets on. Considering he could hardly keep pace with a walking Axel, Roxas also didn't want to test how he'd fare in a one-on-one sprint for freedom, especially not when the stakes felt so high for him.
Instead, he huffed his way back up to the pair, circling around to stand at Axel's side where the man had initially gestured. They started walking again, out of the square and into a small open-air pathway that led to another cobbled stone outdoor space with slightly larger buildings that hinted at commercial marketplaces.
Maybe it was the grief, possibly a resounding lack of sleep, but Roxas wasn't in the mood to deal with anything right now, least of all a rude abductor with the name of some sparkly ice skating trick or his blond side-kick whose hair reminded him of some shitty 80s grunge band drummer.
"Tattoos, fire, kidnapping unsuspecting teenagers." He ticked off the short list and was rewarded with a flicker of green as Axel glanced sideways at him. "You seem to think you're a real badass." His voice was low and biting, expression at this point positively glowering. "But that ink's not even real, so how about you take a moment, lay off me, and get the fuck over yourself?"
And suck on that, you churlish asshole.
Rant over, Roxas shoved his hands into his pockets in one violent motion, then set his gaze ahead in the direction they were walking. He didn't bother to look up as he felt a subtle change to Axel's gait beside him, couldn't possibly have known that Demyx was grinning with unmitigated delight just a few feet over.
And this was exactly why Roxas didn't see green eyes falter, if only for a moment, as Axel's expression transformed from one of practiced indifference to outright astonishment in his unanticipated assertion's wake.