I'm always talking about Murphy's Law and how I always get the shitty end of the stick, but come on. Seriously? Someone could walk up to me on the street to hand me a million dollars and I would bet all of that money on a car hitting me two minutes later. As if I didn't have enough proof of this, I had another one staring me right in the face. No, literally. Axel had my upper arm in a death grip, his eyes locked onto mine and searching for answers. Answers I didn't want to exactly give because they were embarrassing, but also because he looked so hurt. He was the asshole in this situation so why did I feel like the prick?

It started a week ago.

3 Messages.

My phone flashed the words back at me, leering at me from within as if to say, 'Clean your fucking inbox.' Two were from Axel, I knew that much. I had listened to them already and refused to call back. Well, not refused. I was terrified to call back. The third message was new, though. I had heard it ring on the small island in the kitchen and, though I was sitting across from it at the time, I didn't even bother to look at the caller ID. It wasn't that I thought it was Axel again, in fact he was surprisingly less of a pest when it came to a phone, it was the fact that I just didn't want to… do anything anymore. I was too busy mourning my possible demise that I didn't have time to entertain anyone else. Until the results came in at least.

Yes, the results. I actually took what Aerith said to heart. She was right, after all. She was always right and I just hated to admit it. The screen blinked the message at me again and I decided that I may as well get it over with. I punched the mocking screen with my finger allowing the long dialogue to begin in order to hear the new message. After hitting multiple buttons that were apparently designed to see if I was worthy enough to hear my own voicemail, it began to play.

"This message is for Roxas Strife. This is the Royal Inland Hospital calling in regards to your testing you had done two days ago." I sucked in a breath, tapping my fingers against the counter. I gripped my cellphone tighter, closing my eyes when the small pause felt like an eternity. "Our lab had to undergo some maintenance. We estimate that your results will be in within two wee-" I hung up the phone, dropping it roughly to the counter and ran my hands through my hair.

I hadn't felt different. I hadn't felt sick and it had been a few weeks since that incident. I was being paranoid. Paranoid. I would freak out over nothing. Why did Aerith even have to open her mouth? I let out a whining exhale, my panic still shaking my core, and gripped my hair.

Two weeks ago I was released from the clinic. Two weeks ago I was forced to move back into my parents' house in order for me to get "settled" before moving back into my apartment. Problem was, despite my father being away on business, my mother was always around. I couldn't exactly leave anywhere. She was always accompanying me on errands, asking where I was going, checking up on me to see who I was with and where I was at all hours of the day. Even though I didn't actually have a drug problem, it seemed as though she convinced herself that I did. Or she was just trying to keep up the appearance of frantic caring mother in front of the neighbourhood. Both were plausible. Either way I had no way of escaping her caring wrath. I knew my health was on the line because, after some much needed reflection that should've been done weeks ago, I realized I knew absolutely fucking nothing about Axel. What he was into, who he was, and exactly what diseases he may have carried. What did I know? He was a fucking heroin addict. My dwindling health, however, seemed to take a backseat to my mother's shrill shriek of, "You're getting tested for what!?" Immature, yes, but I felt like I'd rather die than have to deal with her practically having a heart attack. Who knows, I may have been sent off to some other form of clinic. A "My Son Hooks up with Drug Addicts" clinic. You can see why I wanted to wait. So, I waited. More like I laid low until there was a guaranteed escape. I thought it'd only be a few days before I could sneak away, but turned into two weeks.

During those two weeks, in between the bouts of fretting and trying to prove to my mom that I am a good, model citizen, Axel apparently had gotten settled as well. I was torn between agonizing despair at the sound of his voice (how could you do this to me?) and utter rage (how could you do this to me!?) when I checked the messages. Either way, I didn't call back. Even if the guy texted me, which I doubted he knew how to seeing as he opted for calling, I wouldn't have replied. It's hard to want to speak to someone when they could've potentially given you a life altering disease. I intended to just ignore him until the results were in. Ignore turned into avoidance when it was taking longer than I thought. It was a lot easier to just punch a guy in the face randomly instead of being buddy-buddy one day and murderous the next.

I'll admit I was probably attempting to pin the blame on someone else. Giving Axel the benefit of the doubt, I pretended he wasn't an uncaring asshole who didn't care whose life he fucked up and entertained the idea that he just didn't care about himself. He just didn't bother to get checked up and, for all I knew, was blissfully unaware. That pissed me off more in a way. Okay, yeah, I probably should've paid more fucking attention and actually used my brain, but that's kind of hard to do when a guy has your dick in his mouth.

I digress.

The clinic was under maintenance, I had another two weeks to go, I had an overly obsessive mom, and an overly annoying redhead wondering where the hell I was on the other end of the phone. Not to mention lord knows what may be floating around in my body. I just wanted one thing in my life to go right. Even just a little bit. All I needed – all I wanted – was a break. Hell, even if it was just a few hours alone by myself in order to regain some sanity, to clear some of my head, I'd be happy. Anything was better than this. Just a break.

Like the mature twenty-one year old I was I snuck out around two in the morning the day after I got a call about my test. I didn't really care if I was back before my mother woke up; I wasn't concerned about the consequences after all. What could she do? Ground me? No, I just needed to leave at a time during the day when she wouldn't be around to follow me or pester me into not going out. And, even though there was absolutely nothing to do at three in the morning, wandering around the streets when it was dark and quiet sounded like a savior. The alarm system wasn't hooked up to "my bedroom" window so I didn't have to worry about the overbearing dragon waking from her slumber. With a practiced skill I gained when I was fifteen, I balanced my way down the roof and onto the tree outside my window. A little rusty, but I still got to the ground unharmed. Just being outside and out of that house sent an overwhelming wave of relief washing over me as I began to walk aimlessly. Anywhere, but here.

Have you ever wandered around town when everything is dead to the world? It's eerily calm and, depending on your mood, it could lean more one way or the other. If I had been in a different state of mind my surroundings would've been bordering on a horror movie feel. The empty streets only needed an ear piercing scream and the scene would be completed. Instead, thankfully, it was relaxing. There was a cool breeze, the moon's light shining faintly through the clouds to bathe everything in a soft glow. Ah, but the silence. No "Where are you going!?" "How long will you be!?" "Who were you with!?" No Mom, Aerith, doctors, test results, and no fucking Axel.

I kicked a rock out of frustration because even when the stress of everything else melted away, that fucking red head was still in my brain and, quite possibly, in my blood stream as well. I'll admit to the weird attraction at the clinic; the sort of friendship. I'll also admit that it is now a, kind of unfairly, I guess, type of loathing. I mean, yeah, on one hand I was jumping to conclusions, but on the other, what if I wasn't? What's worse, what if he did know? What if he thought I was some stupid and easy lay? That's why he wanted to keep in touch. The whole "I'll have no one, boo hoo hoo" was just a bullshit act and he was probably shooting up with his friends right now, laughing at me. Of course he knew. How could you not know? Five times in a clinic didn't mean he was desperately trying to get better, it meant he sucked at not getting caught. I kicked the rock again when I reached it, listening to the scuffing sound my shoe made echo around the street. I was such an idiot…

I felt a drop land on my nose and looked up to see the moon now hidden by clouds. I didn't bring a coat. It was nearing the end of spring so, while the air was still brisk, summer was just around the corner. Besides, with everything else going on, let's just say I wasn't exactly worried about catching pneumonia. I stood on the deserted sidewalk watching as the pavement because dappled with rain. The cooling breeze mixed with my slowly dampening clothes made the once comfortable feeling chilling. And yet I didn't care. Heaving a sigh I lowered myself to the cold, wet cement and just sat.

A car rolled by a couple of hours later making me notice that the once quiet area was coming to life with people waking up for their early morning routines. Deciding I looked and now probably smelt like a wet hobo, I picked myself up and headed to the nearest coffee shop I knew would be open. I wasn't ready to crawl back through my window yet and I didn't want to sit on my ass in the rain for another couple of hours for no reason whatsoever. Besides, with people beginning to bustle about, I doubted I could zone out for another length of time anyways. Sitting at a table in the corner of a local coffee shop, with some kind of warm drink between my hands, seemed to be a good Plan B. That is where the day got worse. It got even worse at 5:30 in the fucking morning. I call bullshit on the phrase "the only way left to go is up." Complete. Bullshit.

The bells on the door chimed when I stepped inside the small shop, thankful for the significant change in temperature. There were a few people at the shop, besides the employees of course, who were mainly sitting at tables and reading papers. The early risers or early workers. Either way I was not one of them and I was glad the vast majority was not either. The less noise the better. The smell of fresh coffee brewing mixed with just baked pastries flooded my nose and helped ease my tense muscles. I actually started to relax for once. I don't know what it is, but there's always something about coffee that can change your mood around. It's just a comfort, like a warm blanket or tea. Something that's always been around in my life, like those early mornings when my parents were awake before I was. Something stable. Something normal and constant.

The cashier noticed me and smiled warily at, I'm guessing, my appearance. Regardless, she greeted me and put down the rag she was using to clean the counter and returned behind the register. I walked over to her, not needing time to think about my order despite never actually being inside their particular coffee shop. I'm not one for fancy mochafrappacappucinolattemadewithsoy's. Simple was better. "Can I get a medium coffee, please? Black?" She rang in my order as I fished for my wallet in my jeans, thankful that I had actually brought it even though I did not originally plan to go anywhere.

"A little bitter, don't you think?" I froze with my hand in my pocket, my stare fixated on the counter in front of me. I knew that voice. I couldn't exactly forget that voice. That mocking tone. How the fuck did I not see him when I came in? How the fuck did I miss the giant redhead who had been standing at the other counter, waiting for his drink? How the fuck can anyone miss him? I did the only logical thing and turned on my heel and headed right back out the door into the rain.

Why didn't I just go home?

I quickened my pace when I heard Axel walk off after me, the bells on the doors chiming obnoxiously twice in a row because of the two of us. This was un-fucking-believable. I kept my head down as I was walking, trying to ignore the obviously longer strides Axel was taking. Maybe he'd just give up when I didn't answer. Maybe he'd just turn around and walk away.

"What the fuck, blondie?"

Nope.

I felt his hand wrap around my arm and I nearly fell over from being suddenly pulled to a stop. "Let go," I hissed to him, still not looking up as I attempted to rip my arm back. Again, just like at the clinic, he was stronger than me. Fuck. So unfair. "Axel, I'm serious." I looked up to glare at him, but faltered when I saw him glaring right back.

"So am I. I mean, shit, we don't have to talk or hang out or anything, but don't leave me fucking wondering if you're okay. Christ, I was convinced your parents went batshit and locked you up in a tower I'd have to rescue you from!" I rolled my eyes at his slight joke, even though his face didn't seem to give off any hint that he wasn't serious. "Now that I at least know you're fucking alive, what gives? Suddenly too good to socialize with the addicts?"

"Maybe," I sneered, my defensive wall shooting up instantly. That wasn't true, obviously. But I didn't want to have an awkward conversation with him when we barely knew each other. That thought felt like a kick to the stomach; reminding me that I did stuff with him while barely knowing him. Fuck. Yanking me back like I was some ragdoll, demanding things from me, didn't sit well with me either. Not to mention that bit of hostility towards him bubbling under my skin. So, yeah, I was a little harsh.

"That's a load of shit, Rox, and you know it." Axel muttered, still not letting go of my arm when I tried to pull back again, the gesture not even fazing him. I looked down when I watched the narrowed eyes turn back to concern. "Seriously, are you okay…? I'm serious when I say that we don't need to talk or hang out again or anything… You just had me worried." I hated him. I hated that 'concern' on his face. I hated the lies.

"I was waiting for results… I had to get tested because of you," I muttered finally, watching a flicker of emotions pass through his eyes. I felt that piss me off even more. There was no way he didn't understand. I sighed when I felt his grip loosen a little, the green eyes studying me – asking for an elaboration. "Because of who you are! What you do! Fuck, Axel! Is your brain perma-fried or what? The needles!" I growled when his hand tightened again, but his expression didn't change. That brings us to where we started. The expression on his face made a rock of guilt sit in the bottom of my stomach, but I just had so much frustration towards him that I couldn't stop talking. And I didn't. "I made a mistake. A fucking stupid, moronic, idiotic mistake with a drug addict." I let out a hoarse laugh when he released me and pulled my fingers through my hair, feeling weird saying all of this out loud. "I know what you people are like! I can sure as hell guess what you are like! You-"

"Oh shut up, Roxas." His voice was low and dark, making my words die instantly. His face was no longer a balance between hurt and confusion, but instead a twisted mix of severely pissed off. "If I was disease ridden, I wouldn't fucking dream of dragging someone else into that life. I am beyond fucked up, I know that, but that doesn't mean I'm some careless psychopath who wants to fuck up everyone else's life on my way down." Axel shook his head and heaved a sigh when I opened my mouth to retort. "I get tested regularly anyways, dumbass. I may hate my life and turn to drugs, but that doesn't mean I want to fucking die before it has a chance to get better. If it would ease your precious, pathetic, panic stricken head I'll show you my results."

Way to be an asshole, Roxas.

I wanted to apologize. I wanted to do something instead of just standing there like some moron, staring at him. But I didn't. Don't get me wrong, I was beyond ecstatic that he was clean and that meant I was clean as well. A part of me, though, kind of wished I was right and that I did have some kind of disease. At least that way I had a reason to be cursing his name for two weeks straight. He broke the silence between us finally when he realized that he wasn't going to get a response from the brain dead being in front of him.

"Was that seriously it?" I nodded my head, shifting my eyes back to the wet sidewalk. "You're an idiot." I nodded again, every fibre of my being agreeing with him. I was. Oh god, I was. Such an idiot. "Call me back next time." That was it. He walked away, leaving me on that sidewalk with that simple, slightly obscure sentence. I had no idea what it meant. If it meant we were cool, if he was going to call me. Would he rip out my jugular next time? I decided I had enough for one morning and went home to pass out for about a week straight to hide away from my embarrassment and stupidity.

The doctor's office called the next day and left another message on my phone. Their maintenance wasn't as bad as anticipated and my test was able to be completed. The results?

Negative.

A/N: Oh my god. I have no excuse except for school and life. I am so sorry for this crappy chapter, I just wanted to get something up for you lovely folks, and I am so sorry for neglecting you beautiful people. I love you all and think of this story often! Reviews and faves, as always, are appreciated!