Daylight moon

Chapter Three: The Runaway

Roxas never really dreamt anymore; he mostly had flashbacks when he was drifting in the space between awake and asleep.

He vividly remembered meeting Hayner and Olette for the first time here in London. He remembers how instantly he and Hayner had become so close and how quickly he fell in love with Olette. He remembers talk about getting a flat together and starting a family the minute they got married. He felt like his life in America was completely behind him.

He remembers finding out Olette was sleeping with Hayner. Roxas remembers all too well how it had ripped apart his world and how dark the future looked.

He remembers relapsing at a party and never looking back. He went to raves and keggers more often than not and stopped caring about anything other than black, ecstasy and booze.

Roxas breaks into a cold sweat when he remembers two figures and a dark alley. He remembers teeth and growling and how helpless he felt. He sits up suddenly and sweat slid down his neck. His chest heaved shakily and he was trembling. He whimpered.

No food for three months now. He was beginning to see his ribs. His once toned body was beginning to look like a crack heads' withering form with each passing day; he didn't like it.

He wasn't entirely sure why he was still alive at this point. His stomach flipped, making him clutch it shakily with both of his arms and groaned. He was going to die in this God-forsaken hospital. He knew it, he could feel it, he could fucking feel it.

Flip, flip.

He looked up at the ticking clock on the blue wallpapered wall. Midnight. He had energy again - Tons of it.

He stood up from his bed, relieved when his stomach hadn't protested the motion, and walked toward the door to his room. The light from the help desk shone through the crack between the floor and the door, where Roxas would see shadows pass by constantly.

He opened it, and immediately wished he hadn't – the blinding light from beyond the door suddenly had him shielding his eyes and he was forced to close it again.

He sighed angrily, resting against the door to his bathroom and sliding down to the floor. He felt his stomach flip again and he groaned.

(-+-)

Tidus had stopped coming to see him during the day – not because he didn't want to, but because no one would let him in. He saw no one except for the doctor and the nurses.

It drove him mad.

Sedative after sedative after sedative ran through his veins at night and through the days. After they had stopped working, a twinge of hope sprang up and Roxas began to smile when the needles punctured his skin in their weak attempt to make him sleep.

It was ten at night, and Roxas had nothing to do.

He hadn't really slept for days. His stomach constantly flipping around and the pulsing wounds on his neck kept him wide awake of. He remembered he only had three more days until he was moved to some facility on the outskirts of London for more tests and more doctors.

Flip, flop…flip, flop.

He got up and turned on the bathroom light, and stared at his beaten reflection in the mirror - he ran a finger across scratches and bruises along his face and neck, noting coldly at his sunken features and paling complexion.

He un-taped the gauze on the left side of his neck and traced his fingers over the four punctures, cringing from the searing pain that shot through his spine. Still he continued to stroke along the small holes, clearing away a few chips of crusted blood and dry skin. It was a rather disgusting site, and still throbbed through night and day, and he wondered why they hadn't healed yet.

He placed the gauze back over them gently and replaced the tape along the back of his neck, and sighed.

And he still wondered, that after all the sleepless days and nights, why wasn't he collapsing with exhaustion?

(-+-)

"No! I won't go!"

"You have to Roxas, it will only be a few minutes." The doctor said, and rubbed the bridge of his nose out of annoyance.

"I'll sue your ass off, you can't make me!" Roxas struggled against the four nurses who had a hold on all four of his limbs and were carrying him to the testing room.

They strapped him to the large, annoying white machine, and continued their tests, and Roxas suddenly knew he was going to die here. He was put into the big machine that shot lasers at his already throbbing wounds, which made him scream, made him kick wildly at the restraints, made him lose hope with every single "test."

This time, though, they hadn't even tried to put him under to keep the pain level down.

He arched his back against the table; the pain made his eyes sting with tears and his screams tore through his throat like fire.

He kept screaming for the remaining fifteen minutes test.

His lungs were sore and his throat was raw and his stomach flip-flopped more than ever. They had to wheel him back to his room. His fingers shook and he couldn't even lift his head.

The doctor followed the nurses into Roxas's room, waiting behind when the nurses had left after putting him back onto the bed. He looked passive, indifferent.

"Roxas."

"Hmm."

He walked closer, taking his limp wrist in one hand and looked at his wrist watch, "The sleeping sedatives have stopped working."

Roxas scoffed.

"Seems you've developed an immunity to them."

Roxas snorted.

"Your pulse is fast." Roxas snatched his hand away and settled onto the uncomfortable bed.

Roxas did nothing but stare up at the doctor – eyes narrow, glaring daggers into every inch of that cocksucker's face.

"Two more days, and you'll be moved. Just sit tight."

And then he was gone. Roxas wanted to ring his neck so badly, he could get off to just the thought.

(-+-)

The next night, he laid weakly on the bed, limbs outstretched and breathing labored. He could feel that he was slipping away. He could feel the dark creeping closer every time he closed his eyes.

The punctures throbbed; hard and wild. He couldn't even lift a hand to sooth his aching, aching neck.

He was dying.

When he heard the door open, he couldn't look. He had to stay breathing. He had to stay awake…

The door closed. He listened as footsteps entered the room and stopped at the side of his bed. Roxas opened his eyes and moved suddenly away from the nurse standing over him.

A hand ran delicately through his hair, soothing the headache to a dull throb almost instantly, but Roxas was still uneasy. "What they're doing to you is wrong."

When the hand was gone, he sat up to watch as she moved to the counter near his bed and set down a white Styrofoam cup with a bandaged hand.

"This can help you, but you can't let them see it." Her voice was absent; like she was on some sort of mental vacation and her body was on autopilot. "When you drink it, you will be free."

Roxas wet his lips in reply.

And then, as quickly as she had come in, she was gone.

He shifted his eyes from the door to the cup anxiously. He picked himself up off the bed delicately and moved to the counter and the cup. It was filled with some kind of red substance; maybe wine? He could use a drink. Maybe it was poison; whichever one would be a welcomed change.

He noticed an unopened thermometer on the counter. He curiously opened it and stuck it under his tongue and absently looked from the cup to the horrendous weather outside; it had begun to snow again.

When the thermometer beeped, he pulled it out. The reading made him pale even further.

Seventy-four degrees Fahrenheit. What the fuck was wrong with him that they couldn't figure out in two and a half months?

He threw the thermometer on the ground, and watched it snap.

He sighed, and looked at the cup. He reached out for it before hesitating and pulling back at the last second. If it was poison, it was at least better than staying here another minute.

He grabbed the cup without a second thought, and sniffed it. It smelled…coppery; like pennies. He tipped it against his lips gently, tilting his head back after a moment and downed the substance. He smacked his tongue against the roof of his mouth at the sour, copper taste.

flipflopflipflopflipflop

Roxas doubled over, dropping the cup and clutching at his aching stomach. He groaned shakily at the sudden, sharp pains jabbing through his middle and crumpled to the floor.

The pain had rushed to his head in a heartbeat. His hands shot for his head, clutching at the skull splitting pain.

He screamed.

He crumpled to the floor, writhing against the pain and arching his back against the tiled floor. He screamed again.

The punctures stung. They stung like they had never stung before. They burned and throbbed and felt like they were expanding.

Roxas sat up, clutching his head as the pain intensified; he grabbed anything in his reach, knocking over machines and his IV in the process. He let out a whimper, feeling his muscles spasm back to life and his senses sharpen.

He screamed. The door to his room swung open, followed by a short, startled "Roxas?"

No one was there.

The doctor, ready with his syringe, looked carefully around the trashed room.

"Rooxaas?"

Nothing.

He stepped further into the room just as lightning shot through the sky. The door slowly creaked shut.

The doctor's breath hitched. His heart fluttered in his chest.

He stopped for a moment to listen. When he heard nothing for several moments he turned back to the door and slowly. No one was there… He stepped closer, about to touch the knob -

Lightning lit up the sky, illuminating the room. Roxas growled and leaped from the shadows cast across the door with an ear-splitting shriek. They tumbled to the floor, the syringe flying away from the doctor's hand. He tried to push Roxas off of him, but Roxas gripped viciously onto his labcoat.

bitebitebitebite

Roxas grabbed a handful of hair and yanked as hard as he could, ignoring the audible crackand bit down on his neck.

Bit down, hard.

And then he sucked. He felt the hot liquid run down his throat, lighting his throat on fire as it went into his stomach. The flip-flopping had finally stopped.

After only moments, he had drained the body dry. He gasped for breath as he sat up, swiping absently at his mouth with his bloody arms.

Footsteps were rumbling down the hallway to his room. Roxas ran through the door, darting down the hall blindly, avoiding the four nurses with the needles. He crashed into oncoming nurses and other doctors because he only had half a mind as to where he was going. He knocked into corners and walls as he did so, finally reaching the entrance to –

A fucking dead end.

The nurses rounded the corner just as Roxas had crashed his way into the ventilation system, crawling for his life.

He crashed into the walls several times in the cramped space, and finally fell through the opening leading to a lower floor. He groaned, straightening his oddly positioned body and got back on his hands and knees; he saw another opening and headed for it.

He crawled out as quietly as he could into someone's room. They seemed to be sleeping anyway; Roxas set the vent's lid down quietly and went for the door.

He glanced around the blinding room, closing the door again and rubbed at his eyes sorely. He looked around the room after gaining some vision back, and searched for a pair of glasses, goggles – anything to hide his eyes. When he didn't find anything, he prepared for the worst.

Roxas opened the door, took a deep breath and ran out with one eye shut. He squinted with the other one just as his legs had picked up speed; all he needed to find were the stairs.

The clerical areas and staff were in a complete state of awareness, and Roxas took the opportunity to sneak passed them. It didn't take long for them to catch on and form an angry mob behind him.

His life sort of flashed before his covered eye: His first kiss, his first drink, his first fuck and the day he graduated. The day his mom died. The day his dad died. The day his grandparents died and his uncle died.

His speed increased.

His first day in London with Tidus; the day he met Olette. The day he asked Olette out on their first date.

His speed increased, more doctors flying from his path, his eyes getting wider and wider, tastingthat open night air…

The day he fucked her. The day she left; his first fistfight.

He screamed.

The door to the stairs crashed underneath his weight, sending him flying down a flight and crashing into the wall with a sickening thud. He picked himself up shakily, and felt one of his ribs jutting out if place. He gasped at the sharp pain and just as the busted door began careening down the stairs, narrowly missing Roxas as he ran and nearly crashed into the next wall of the landing.

Pain shot from his ribs as he trotted down further down the stairs until he finally reached the bottom; he could hear the nurses coming down the stairs after him.

He threw the door open, hitting it against the wall and began sprinting for the exit. He could still taste the blood, still taste the copper…but the taste of freedom was so much sweeter.

He heard their voices behind him, screaming for the others to stop him, screaming to give him the serum, tell them he has changedand to be careful.

The automatic doors didn't open fast enough. Shards of glass and plastic and random-colored wiring went flying in a flurry of motion as he burst through the doors, giving the night guard a startle – and hopefully a fucking heart attack.

He still kept running. He kept running until he recognized one of the streets and it took him to the main street, which was thankfully devoid of people. He kept running until his sides were splitting and his heart pumped acid through his veins. He had to find Tidus.

He almost cried when his flat finally came to into view, nestled in its little cul-de-sac, windows dark, and the front door locked.

From experience, Roxas easily broke into Tidus's flat; he removed the screen and opened the faulty window. He tried to climb through quietly, but managed to fall through and knock into the kitchen table and plummet to the tiled floor and land flat on his back. He chuckled tiredly before attempting to pull himself up but failing miserably.

He couldn't get up. Not yet… He needed rest.

The licked his lips and still tasted copper. Roxas closed his eyes, and lifted an unsteadily to take off the gauze from his neck. His braced for the horrible pain, and gasped when his fingers ran over smooth scar tissue.

Roxas laughed hoarsely. He dropped his arm onto the cold ground, and willingly let sleep take hold of him.

A/N: So I'm writing this, and there's a full moon out. If this chapter is a little weird and incoherent, now you know why.

Review if you want morrrrrre!