a/n: That's right. I updated twice in one week, and this is my longest chapter. Like, ever. I just had to update, after that cliffhanger.

Anyway, welcome to chapter eight of the Cool Guy. I'd like to thank everybody who reads and reviews this story---your words mean so much to me, and inspire me to write more. I am not a confident writer! So this is important to my creative process.

You should all know KH belongs to Square and Disney by now, but I'll say it again anyway.

Chapter Eight

Xigbar eyed his newest and, though he felt strange in admitting it, favorite tenant.

"Hold out your arms," he said, mouth twisted in careful thought. If he looked closely, the young man in front of him didn't really look all that different from before. The hair dye only served to add a whitish shine to his golden color. The difference in the actual hair style, though---whereas before, it had been of the wispy, falling in his face, but still lying flat look; it was now all sweeping layers, angles, and spiked bangs. Xigbar wouldn't go so far as to call him better looking, but it lent itself to the kid's personality quite well. The contacts also made a difference---the vibrant color lit up his face and set off a slight rosy hue to his cheeks that Xig hadn't even noticed before.

The clothes were an after affect, he decided, bringing the whole disguise together. Standing there, even with his arms held out and his face turning red from the exertion of keeping them there; his dark wash levis covering a pair of sharp black shoes and his jacket layering a fitted shirt, Roxas formed a distinct impression, an impression reminiscent but strikingly different from his previous appearance.

"Okay, inspection's over. If he's there, you should do fine. I think…I'm probably the only one who could recognize you."

Roxas dropped his arms to his sides. His hands felt tingly, a sensation that he knew was triggered by a mixture of excitement and nerves.

"Are we ready to go, then?" He asked, taking a quick survey of his apartment. He felt a twinge of guilt when his eyes rested upon the large number of boxes that had yet to be unpacked, and an even bigger twinge when his gaze found the phone.

I'll call her as soon as I've gotten the upper hand, he promised firmly. Knowing his mother, she was probably just teasing him with her dark hints of threats.

Probably.

"Yep. Smile, kid---I have this feeling you'll love Namine's art."

Roxas smiled at the older man who so readily helped him. "I probably will. When I was in highschool I didn't do much talking to other people. But I did talk plenty to paintings."

Talk, scream, point at wildly---Roxas went for the passive explanation.

Xigbar stared at him. The young man's smile had morphed into something of a sheepish grin, and the landlord couldn't help but to bend down and ruffle his hair.

"Paintings, huh?"

"Mm. Scared the daylights out of most people." It certainly had. At the time, Roxas couldn't have cared less about social interaction. It didn't matter if no one got within a fifteen foot radius of him. Hell, that was the way he liked it.

He was mildly depressed that he would not have such a chance tonight, but the idea of catching (No, not catching, he reminded himself. Using the bike meant being subtle in a hundred more ways. It was no use if he caught Axel tonight, but never managed to do it again. He needed to trap Axel in a cage of the cool guy's own making) Axel was enough to turn his smile into an effortless one.

When Roxas walked into the classy white walled gallery with Xigbar at his side, he had to keep from gasping in delight. There was already a substantial amount of people, milling around in small groups and big groups and some by themselves, standing and talking and evaluating the colorful paintings.

And the paintings! Roxas barely noticed Xigbar's muttered, "Catch ya later," mesmerized by the raw emotion on the walls, staring down at him, washing over him, sometimes cutting him, sometimes making him feel profound and sometimes making him feel like a child again.

He hadn't seen art so original in such a long time.

Roxas looped around the gallery twice, each time noticing that more and more people were filtering in—he saw Axel out of the corner of his eye, but it wasn't time for him to approach him yet.

No. For his plan to work, Axel had to open any conversation they might have.

Eventually he found himself standing in front of what he felt was the most interesting painting of the lot.It was like a locket---if you looked at the shapes one way, it was a generic picture. A picture of exactly what the title suggested.

But if you pried the locket open, you could see the true picture inside.It was beautiful. He wondered vaguely if anybody but he and the artist noticed it.

"Psst. Axel."

"I'm right beside you, Demyx. You don't need to whisper."

"But he might hear!"

"Dem. Despite your contrary opinion, Xigbar does not have supernatural abilities."

Demyx rolled his eyes. "I don't need your teasing right now, Axel. What am I gonna do? Look at that guy he walked in with---who does he think he is, anyway? Oh. My. God. Axel, what if---what if that guy's his boyfriend?"

"What guy are you talking about?"

"That one---see him? The one standing in front of that painting with the thoughtful look on his face---what'll I do? His hair's way cooler than mine!"

Axel paused. "You have a point there. He does have good hair."

"See?" Axel's distraught companion said mournfully.

Axel checked a sigh, remembering how easily Demyx got upset. That was why Axel tended to avoid social settings with him---with all the propositions and admirers and, to put it bluntly, shit he had to put up with on a daily basis, he really didn't need the drama that seemed to be produced from some strange reaction between the populace and his cousin's presence. And by populace, he meant everybody they ran in to.

Everybody they ran into normally consisted of Xigbar. Or Zexion. Whichever one had the upper hand in the matter of Dem's affections was normally the one that showed up. Personally, Axel preferred the landlord. It used to be a lot easier to weasel his way out of rent when the landlord thought he was staring down and demanding money from his future cousin in law.

Of course, that perk was gone, so right now Axel couldn't care less that his cousin was attempting to hide behind a statue so he didn't have to deal with his one-eyed ex boyfriend.

Except, Axel admitted grudgingly, Dem had helped him unpack. He'd even sent him roses on his birthday.

"Look, it's probably just a random guy. They don't look like a couple to me, Xig's completely abandoned him in any case."

Demyx's face lit up. "You think? But…just to make sure…could you maybe go over and talk to him, Axel? The guy by the painting, just to make sure he doesn't make a move on Xigbar? Please?"

Axel was about to flatly refuse and point out that Demyx would have to learn how to confront his problems eventually, when he made the mistake of looking into the young man's pleading cerulean eyes.

"Sure," he said through gritted teeth.

Because I like talking to random strangers, Demyx. Because, you know, with my infamy, it's so easy for random strangers to turn into those creepy people who try to track down my address and sell snapshots of me to boys and girls between the ages of 12 and 52. That's what makes talking to people fun, he thought sourly.

It wasn't Axel's fault he was popular.

Sure. He loved attention, loved the way every woman in the room was hotly eyeing him from the tips of his silky red hair to the tops of his leather boots, even now as he was walking across the gallery---it was all fluttering eyelashes, discreet---and not so discreet---flashes of cleavage accompanied by small, sensuous waves and husky murmurs by way of greeting.

And if every woman was watching every move he made, half the men were watching him too.

Attention was something that he basked in, something that he wore like a rich and multicolored cape, woven by the dreams of virgins and the lust of men and everything and everybody in between.

He'd be a liar if he said he didn't want it. What he could do without, Axel reflected, was those people who hated him and looked up to him without ever speaking a word to him. What was even worse was those messengers Marluxia kept sending, following him around and so naïve.

If put on the spot, Axel would have to admit that he liked nothing more than surprising people, than being around people who surprised him, than remaining spontaneous, than playing games with rules even he didn't know, and having a good time in general.

And if Axel ever snapped at somebody who was all assumptions, who could blame him?

They would probably have done the same.

Axel looked up. He'd reached the other side of the gallery, where a lone figure was standing with his hands in his pockets, face tilted up to look at one of Namine's less popular pieces.

Riku was, by most standards, a simple person. He was a music major and played piano in a quaint club on the weekends and worked in a small office during the week. He was fairly intelligent but mainly clever, and was relatively happy with his life in general.

He lived in a two room apartment, phoned his mother every weekend (unlike other persons), and occasionally went dancing.

Riku is the person who most people would describe as being "wonderful." He had wonderfully green eyes and equally wonderful longish silver hair that had turned heads on more than one occasion.

Admittedly, things had been a little turbulent in his life not too long ago, but he was starting to get back into the swing of things.

To prove to himself how much he was over the event and getting into the swing of the things, he was taking his dog Ether for a long awaited walk through the city park.

Right now he sat on one of the many benches, content to let Ether roll around in the mud that was left from last week's rainstorm. He would shower the yellow labrador-chow mix off when they got home, he figured, stifling a yawn. It had been a particularly trying day of work. Not for the first time, Riku wished he had the skill to play piano full time.

Wrapped in dreams of compositions and fame, Riku didn't notice when Ether's leash caught on the edge of the iron bench.

Fortunately for him, he did notice when the already frayed leash snapped and Ether, seeing the chance for freedom, ran off at as close to lightspeed a one year old energetic male dog could get.He took off after Ether as the large pup dashed madly out of the park and across the street through the open doors of an art gallery.

"You've been staring at that painting for twenty minutes," Axel said by way of introduction.

Roxas didn't skip a beat. If he played this perfectly…well. It would be a start.

And even though he wanted to turn to the man who kept a wary three feet away and shake him until he either apologized or explained why he spoke to Roxas in the way that he had, Roxas managed to keep his cool.

He's just that type of guy.

"It doesn't seem like that long to me. Her art is like nothing I've ever seen," Roxas added appreciatively----and truthfully.

"She's good. She puts everything into it, and she's only nineteen."

"Nineteen?" Roxas hadn't known that. His admiration increased. When he was nineteen…well. He couldn't have done anything like this. (Of course, he was only two years older, but who was counting?)

Axel didn't make a reply to that, and Roxas went back to his study of the painting. Just standing in the gallery was nostalgic, even if he'd always avoided the opening night of art shows.

The guy started staring at the painting again, completely ignoring Axel. If that kept up, he might well go back over to Xigbar, and then Demyx would never let him hear the end of it.

"What do you see when you look at it?" Roxas asked suddenly.

"When I look at what?" Axel did a double take as emotions flickered across the stranger's oval face. He really did have a nice face, when Axel examined his high cheekbones, small nose, and lips that looked like they were made to pout. His eyes, though---they were bright enough to be nearly unnerving. Axel had never seen anybody with eyes as bright as his own. Was this why people rarely looked him in the eye?

More importantly:

Was Xigbar really charming enough to snag a looker like this? He didn't think so.Was he then essentially wasting his breath on this person?

"The painting. I asked what you see."

That was an odd way to phrase a question, Axel thought, looking at the shorter man. He stopped to ponder his answer before speaking.

"…I see what it is. The rainbow is arcing over the moon."

"I did not mean that," the young man said. His words were light, airy, and somehow sharp. His voice wasn't particularly nice, like Axel knew his was, but it had a strange sort of rhythm.

"Really? I don't see what you could be seeing that I'm not."

"I thought that was the point of art."

There was that rhythm again.

Wait a minute.

"Can't you see it's an ocean?"

Was that…?

"Are you speaking in iambic pentameter?"

The young man turned and looked at him for the first time. He was smiling.

"Is that your answer? What are you?" He asked.

"Don't you mean who?" Axel stared.

"Nah. I've heard your name already. In my experience, names aren't so important. They can be cast off and given up, exchanged and changed. Quite frankly, I don't give a damn about your name."

Axel was still staring.

"As for the painting…when I look at it, I see blue and I feel a strong wind. Let's say…from the northeast. The stars seem like sand and it's like the waves are running from the moon. It's only a rainbow---" Roxas paused and cocked his head to the left---"If you stare at it straight on, and take it for its face value."

Axel stared some more, but inclined his head to the left.

"Namine…you're a genius," he exhaled. The painting, which he'd always taken for a nighttime sky laced with a stippled rainbow, turned into an expansive, glittering ocean with a white beach.

He really does love art, Roxas thought. The man had a delighted grin on his face.

Maybe, he thought, that was enough interaction for now.

Just as he turned to go, he felt a long fingered hand grip his arm.

"How did you know?" Axel asked.

Roxas thought. It had seemed obvious to him. "I've spent a lot of time looking at paintings," he said, staring pointedly at Axel's hand. It was the same hand that had delicately gripped his chin. Huh.

"Who are you?"

"I told you my opinion on names, didn't I?"

Axel arched a brow. "I wasn't asking for your name."

I've seen a lot of people try to do what you're suggesting. They are all brilliant people. And you… well, honestly, I'll probably have forgotten all about you by tomorrow.

"What are you asking?" Roxas said breathlessly.

"I want to know who you are. Call it passing curiousity."

Maybe you'll surprise him…though at this point, I'm doubting it.

"I'm nobody."

"Everybody's somebody." Axel didn't let him go.

I'd peg you as twenty, twenty-one. You're within your first month of ever living away from your small town family. You have no job. No girlfriend. No raison d'etre…

"I don't agree," Roxas said slowly. Maybe, he thought, this wasn't a good idea. "You don't know me."

Axel took a look at his face and dropped his hand. "That's why I'm asking. I'm probably just saying this on a whim---because you may know my name but you certainly don't know me, either---but something about you strikes me as interesting."

And maybe it's because of that. But mostly it's because you're starting to realize that you're a boring person who will live a boring life and nothing interesting will ever, ever happen to you.

"Don't you get it?" Roxas hissed, unable to stop himself. "I'm Ro---"

"ETHER!! HEEL!! NOOOOOO!"

"What the hell?" Axel said. Roxas barely heard him over the shouts and gasps of surprise.

And then, Roxas saw it---a furry, mud-covered mutt was careening around the corner like a bat out of hell, flinging mud onto the white walls and getting dangerously close to the art.

Roxas realized two things in rapid succession:

One: A young woman he was fairly certain was Namine Blanc herself let out a blood curdling shriek of what he assumed was panic and what the people who knew her assumed was the sound Namine made when she was very, very furious.

Two: Unless something of considerable bulk got in the way of it, the animal was going pass the corner and in doing so get mud all over the immaculate paintings.

He realized the third just as soon as he saw the young woman stop screaming and instead watch the action---all of it a blur---with eyes that were starting to fill with sparkling tears.

That something would have to be him, Roxas realized.

He bent his knees, waiting for the huge, hyper dog to reach him.

It's no longer 9:17, but the fire of the life in the night burns on, illuminating the lives of newcomers and oldcomers alike. It's the newcomers who get burned the worst, most nights. Some can't take the heat. And some just can't keep from throwing themselves into it, where they are promptly incinerated or blinded. The wise ones line the infamous ring of flames, watching in awe as the lithe, spry dancers twine like smoke.

The brightest dancer is a veritable maelstrom of flickering fire, spinning with all the energy of a leaping demon. Nobody, except maybe the victim himself, could have guessed that on one otherwise normal night, Axel would dance closer to the edge than ever before.

So close would he brush the outer circle that the flames covering his person would leap with glee to the one standing there in the hazy, hazy smoke.

Of course, some people still argue that Roxas hadn't been pulled into the flames, but had rather thrown himself into their swirling depths, eyes open and knees braced.

When Roxas woke up, the first thing that registered was that he had a splitting headache the likes of which he hadn't experienced since that night he decided he wanted to find out what it felt like to be drunk.

The second thing that registered was a massive amount of people, standing around him in a circle.

"What happened?" He asked, sitting up. There was a pillow under his head. Huh. That was nice.

"You don't remember?" A young girl in a pretty white dress looked at him in concern, hands folded in front of her.

Some of the people murmured in equal worry.

"No…wait." Roxas stood up a little too fast. He sat right back down, seeing a multitude of neon spots. That in itself was weird.

"Oh, be careful, please! You hit your head---thanks to this idiot." The girl's tone switched from anxious to waspish.

A man around his age shuffled forward, looking at his shoes. His long layered hair obscured his eyes, but Roxas had the strange feeling he'd seen him somewhere.

"I'm so sorry. My dog Ether got away from me---I hadn't taken him out in a really long time---and he ran in here." The man blushed.

"Oh yeah," Roxas said. The art show. And then, the dog. "Wait! What about the painting?" He asked, standing up slower this time. Ah. That was better. He looked around: so far as he could tell, there wasn't any damage to the artwork.

Good.

"Fine, thanks to you," the girl said, leaning forward to shake his hand. "I'm Namine Blanc. You don't know how grateful I am---you held on to that squirming dog, even after he knocked you down against the corner of the wall. Thank you. It was stupid," her eyes narrowed, "but I can't say I'm not glad."

Roxas blinked. He knew her! She had been at the party, the one who'd bit her lip and looked worried the whole time.

He smiled. "No, thank you, for the chance to see your brilliant work. I'd be a fool to not protect it."

The girl blushed. She opened her mouth----and was pushed out of the way by a man with a long scar and eyepatch.

"Don't do something like that ever again! If your madwoman of a mother ever finds out, she'll hunt me down! You had me worried, R--"

Roxas looked at Xigbar, trying to stop the man with the look of utter horror and warning in his eyes.

"R—rascal. You little rascal, scaring your uncle like that."

Roxas started breathing again, and several feet away Demyx's heart leapt in newfound joy.

Then Xigbar was pushed out of the way by yet another person.

"Mr.Mer?" Roxas asked. The slender blue haired man had Axel in tow.

"Please, call me Saix. Sora, what can you tell me about your intense love for art?"

"Excuse me?" And then it dawned on Roxas. "You're---a journalist?"

"Please. I edit the local newspaper. I think this will make a fantastic article in the culture section---I knew you were different the moment I laid eyes on you."

"I--"

A ripple went through the crowd at that point.

"It will make a good article!"

"Modern day heroics---he could have gotten seriously hurt if he'd been rammed into that window."

"His name's Sora?"

"He also unlocked the secret to Namine's L'arc de la Luna, didn't he?"

Roxas paled. He really, really didn't like large groups of people. And now they were focusing on him.

"Sora," Someone hissed. "This way."

"Thank you," Roxas said, breathing deeply.

"Not at all." Axel sat down on the curb beside him. "I can't stand crowds either," he said distantly. "What you did…"

"Yeah?"

"Was completely idiotic."

"Yeah," Roxas laughed.

Laughing with the enemy now? He must have hit his head pretty hard.

"You feel like answering my question now?"

"What question was that?"

"Who are you."

"Ah." Roxas thought for a moment, spying the alleyway where he'd dropped off his clothes and clipboard earlier that evening. It was time to strike, he decided. "Sure. Can you wait right here?"

"What?" Axel seemed surprised. People probably didn't often ask him to wait, Roxas reflected.

"It's your choice."

"…you'll come back, right?"

"Sure I will."

"Fine, then."

Score, Roxas thought.

a/n: Roxas, you are a naughty naughty boy. Axel has feelings too. Probably. ::cough:: ahem: Yes, I know Roxas wasn't really speaking in iambic pentameter. Axel just thought he was.No, I haven't forgotten about all those weird questions Roxas asked Larxene---he's saving them for more important moments. No, I hadn't exactly planned that---when I finally put Roxas and Axel together, it's just what happened. Hmm...I hope this chapter was okay...

Anyway, if you've got anything to say about this story----especially if you have it on alert! Because there are thirty of you! (wouldn't it be nice if I heard from all of you?)---then please leave me a review telling me what you think, even if it's just two words.

Thank you for reading.

(This ending's kind of a cliff hanger too, isn't it? Huh...)