"You grew out your hair," is all Axel says. He figures he shouldn't say "Jesus Christ, you must have been jailbait," especially since it's been ten years since they were in high school, but Riku glares at him as if he did.
"They say Oblivion's haunted now." His voice is different, too--not that much deeper, but it resonates like a well-tuned dreadnought guitar (Demyx wouldn't have liked him thinking "one of those huge-ass guitars") and there's some sort of effortless lilt that draws you in.
"You bet," Axel grins. "Just one ghost, though. He's probably surprised to see you all--who the hell would want to go back here?" He asks seriously, subtly bracing himself in case Roxas tries some of his poltergeist shit. He's gotten too many bruises to count from randomly thrown objects, and there was this one time Roxas tipped a grandfather clock on him a couple days after his funeral.
-
His strangled shriek of pain brings Naminé into the room, where she finds Axel on the floor underneath a grandfather clock. The glass broke from the impact and Axel can barely keep the clock from crashing the rest of the way down to his ribs.
"Oh, God--Axel!" She heads over and tries to heave it back up, but the blood from his cuts is making it slippery and he can't help her that much because the pendulum's sort of crushing his stomach. Roxas is probably sitting on the damn thing just to make Axel hurt--the pendulum can't be more than three pounds.
"Ambulance…" he chokes, and they manage to heave the clock onto his side. Naminé nods and heads for the phone. "Wait, no!"
"What?"
"No ambulance--I'm fine," Axel lies, and Roxas screams and kicks him hard enough for something to bruise.
Naminé calls the ambulance, wiping her hands off while she dials.
His blood leaves red smudges on her skirt, and for some reason Axel wants to apologize.
-
Nothing happens this time, though, and Axel can almost see him staring in confusion. "Well look at that--you've thrown him for a loop," he remarks, and Roxas recovers enough to kick a table upstairs.
"Hey--if Naminé's here, where's Roxas?" Kairi asks.
"Dead," Naminé answered. "Not gone, though--he promised he'd stay with me."
"So he's…" Kairi's eyes widen, and Axel remembers that she wasn't actually there when it happened.
"Don't worry, you'll be fine--I'm the only one he hates," he reassures. Riku glances at him, the sort of concerned-knowing look that would be too close to pity for anyone else, and he's kind of glad for it.
"He's just mad at you, Axel. There's a difference." Naminé corrects him. The house shrugs, floorboards creaking with indifference as she leads the trio inside with a smile.
Axel doesn't pay attention to their small talk, lounging in the kitchen to talk to Roxas instead. "So, Mr. Poltergeist--you don't hate me?"
The silverware drawer is wrenched out and its contents are dumped on the floor, but it's only out of habit: Axel can tell because there's the reluctant admittance that Naminé is right, underneath his standard annoyance. Then Roxas sits next to him, not even attempting to hit anything, and gives the cough-sob that some people make when they're worn out.
"I don't hate you, too."
Don't say it like that, Roxas pleads. But Axel will never take it back.