Axel doesn't see Roxas at rehearsals anymore, and when he heads outside to see what's going on, Naminé is lying alone in the sunshine, reading a book, and welcomes him lying next to her. They talk lazily about ballet, the plot of her book, the wonder of the sunny weather, then Axel dares to broach the subject which has been bothering him.

"Have you seen Roxas today?"

"Hm? Oh, no, but I think he went out into the city to pick some stuff up. It's not unusual for him to be gone all day." Naminé says, easily, "Why, you missing him already?"

Axel lets himself flush, and ducks his head. So, clearly, whatever it was, Roxas hasn't told his sister, hasn't let her know that he ducked away from their first chance at a kiss, even though he initiated first contact.

"He wasn't at rehearsals. I just… wondered."

"He's probably buying you something, he tends to gift people when he gets the chance. You'll come home and find stuff left on your bed, I bet. Now shush, let me read, I've only got another twenty minutes before I need to go back in and teach."

Axel stays when she leaves, lying on her blanket, face down, gloomily watching the ants criss-cross through the grass, like humans in a rainforest, battling through the blades. He wonders what it's like to feel quite so dwarfed by your environment, then stares up at the ballet school. He knows what it feels like, he supposes, the way ballet makes him feel, like part of a larger whole, like something wonderful and dreadful is happening at the same time. Naminé taught him to be the most confident he could be. He's going to keep on doing that, he decides, no matter what Roxas does or says. He'll keep on being himself.

He dances like no one's watching. It's cliché, but this time, no one is, so he dances with sheer abandon, kicking up into igrand jetes/i, embracing the feeling of nothing between him and the world but the movement of dance and the shape of the air. There is nothing like this, nothing like being alive, being filled with the music, with the sheer joy of living – ballet does this to him, ballet takes away everything which is echoing around his head, making him think darkly, making him doubt himself, and lets him shape the world the way he wants, frees him from the expectations of those around him. Axel thinks he might love Roxas, thinks he could, if the boy would just let him, thinks it would be possible for the two of them to be together, but as much as his body craves something, his heart craves something, he knows that nothing he could take from the other boy would ever add up to how much he loves ballet. Roxas is a want, a hunger, a need, but ballet is an obsession, his life, the only way he knows how to express himself. If Roxas could listen to him through dance, if Roxas could see…. But that isn't possible, because Roxas doesn't stretch his legs this way, tucks himself into a tiny cage of himself, has no idea what it feels like to wrap dance around yourself like a blanket, keeping out all the nightmares.

Axel's partner in this is Larxene, because though they may have gone their separate ways, they still dance together, still chase each other around the rollercoaster of emotion and feeling which is dance, and can still play the doting couple within their steps, falling into place, their bodies echoing each other, trailing remembered intimacy and want through every placement of the foot, every arch of the arm, and every lift is lovemaking held steady and controlled, their own little world where nothing can hurt them and nothing can get through. When they dance together, not even Leon's shouted invectives can penetrate the fog, and most of the time, he will just let them dance, because the feeling which entrances the two of them also spreads to the audience. They are not only in love with each other, when they dance, but they draw the rest of the corps de ballet into falling in love, too, remind Leon how much Cloud means, causes him to clasp his lover's hand as, around them, the rest of the rehearsal comes to a standstill, lovers finding each other in the crowd. Two or three of the girls are crying, and are held by boys they may not even know very well. The feeling of remembered love, a love now long gone, permeates the room, when they dance together.

Roxas watches. His heart aches, because there is nothing he can say to this, no demonstration he can give, because he can not dance, he does not speak this language, and even interpreting it is hard work, but this, this feeling which wells up causes tears to drip down his cheeks. This is love, yes, but it's not a love of fire, of passion, of want and desire, but a staid, sensible love which has developed over time, a mutual respect, a close knit familial love, and it makes him cry not because he wants this with Axel, but because this is what he has with Naminé. This isn't a new love, a dark, desperate, needy love, but love of those around you, those who support you and are always there. This is everything which drags him down and raises him high, everything which wraps around the two of them as twins, as siblings, as anything as close as blood and knowing one another all their lives can knit them. Roxas cries because this is love, the only way he knows how to feel it, and it's displayed in front of him, raw and open, all of the ways he could say it but never can. He can't face it anymore, and leaves, not looking back.

When they pull apart, Axel casts a glance over to Roxas' seat, and finds him already vanishing through the door, messenger bag lying forgotten on the chair. He kisses Larxene's cheek, and she loosens the tie in his hair, fluffing through it until it's back in the customary spikes.

"Go on then," she says, smiling, "Go and chase your boy."

"He's not mine." Axel says, softly, but smiles, too.

"Then if I know you, he soon will be."

Axel shakes his head, slipping into jazz pants and an oversized hoodie, swapping his soft-soled shoes for outdoor ones, sliding everything else into his bag before taking the steps down off the stage and towards Roxas' bag. He hefts it over his shoulder, wincing at the weight, because the kid must carry so many books that he's getting curvature of the spine, but shoulders it anyway, because there's nothing more important than taking this step right now, going to find Roxas as if nothing had happened, as if the blond wasn't watching him dance with barely-restrained hunger on his face, with sorrow in his eyes. Axel isn't blind to the little nuances of people, he knows there must be a reason why Roxas is being cagey, why he didn't want to be seen watching Axel dance. He thinks it must have something to do with the kiss-that-never-was, but can't dig any deeper than that without everything being tinged with his own feelings of inadequacy and fear. He's busy thinking as he comes around the corner to find Roxas leaning against the wall outside the school, staring up blankly at the clouds, tear-tracks on his face.

"Hey." Axel says, softly, and Roxas jumps, scrubbing at his skin with the sleeve of his hoodie, before seeing who it is and dropping his sleeve.

"It's okay to cry, you know. I mean, I do ballet, it's not like I can mock you for a lack of masculinity, is it?" Axel says, companionably, leaning against the wall next to the blond and joining him in contemplation of the darkening sky, "Looks like a storm."

"Yeah." Roxas says, but doesn't volunteer anything else, so Axel leans a little closer and lets the sides of their bodies press together, and smiles when Roxas doesn't shrug off the contact.

"So, do you think it works?"

"Works?"

"The bit you just saw." Axel pauses, then explains, "It's for the new production of Orpheus. Yeah, it's artistic license that Orpheus and Eurydice get a final dance before she's dragged back to Hades, and, well, as Larx says, if she were Eurydice, she'd be more pissed off than sad, but there we go. Seemed effective, as a final parting between lovers."

Roxas seems to realise why he's used those words particularly, and leans into his body a little as the first drops of rain start to fall. He opens his mouth, then closes it again.

"You can tell me some other time, yeah?" Axel says, generously, letting Roxas slip the questions, for now, "We're going to get soaked if we stay out here."

Roxas flashes a look at him, and Axel has a split second of warning before the boy is gone, sprinting off into the growing darkness, into the rain, and laughing out loud as the first rumble of thunder comes overhead. Axel gives chase, grinning, gravel skidding beneath his feet as he corners sharply, doing his best to keep pace, and he understands, now, that this is the same as he feels in the dance, a way of laughing at the world, no matter how much it hurts, of being exhilarated with life and all the nuances it holds. He catches up with Roxas as he rounds a corner, who smiles.

"Thought you were supposed to be fit." He mocks, and Axel can hold himself back no longer. He leans in and kisses the surprised boy, here and now, where there is nothing but the two of them and the storm beating down, soaking them to the skin.