Axel finds himself, in the bedroom, in what he can only call a shrine to ballet. There's old pointe shoes, which must be Naminé's, programmes from every show she's been in, except that one…. Axel notices pictures of himself, too, from that small town community centre, dancing like he still couldn't work out how to feel. There are photos of him before Naminé took him under her wing, and then those afterwards, too, where the confidence is growing, where his steps are more certain, where his poise is evident. There are other dancers, too, cut out from magazines, interviews, choreographers talking about their stars, stars talking about their lovers, pose after pose of dancers mid-flight. This is Roxas' haven, he realises, this is what he carries inside him all the time, how he's choreographing in his head, why he knows so much about ballet. There are dancers with rooms like this, but they usually fixate on one particular dancer. There are those who still have Kairi Debruchev on their walls, because despite her ending, she started like a flame, scoring across memory. Axel himself has a few idanseurs/i, just mainly for the shape of a leg, the arch of a back, the turn of a head. But this is nothing short of worship. Ballet takes up every space, and Axel takes up most of it.

"I… I watched you. A lot, when you used to dance with Nami. I watched because… because I…."

Axel doesn't need to hear the words, just pulls the blond into an embrace, cradling him, one hand running through hair which is softer than it looks.

"You can have me." He says, lightly, not moving from the hold, just letting Roxas stay, Roxas who grips him like he's everything, as if he never wants to let go, could never withstand being let go, "You can have me, Rox."

It isn't perfect, and it isn't everything they need to say, but the way Roxas' arms go tighter, just for a second, says enough, for now. They stand, silently, and Axel pretends he doesn't see the wetness on his shirt when he heads home, later.

There's a little more between them, then, Roxas coming back to Axel's room more often than not, now, just sitting on the bed and laughing as Axel tries to wriggle his hair out of the braid plastering it to his scalp. The third day, he arrives before classes, with a bottle of product, which, smoothed over his hair, makes it easier to braid up, and then, at the end of the day, to take out, without so much swearing and hair pulling. The bottle stays on Axel's desk, and neither of them ask whether Rox will be taking it back again. Roxas starts to leave the odd hoodie or sweater behind, too, like he's thinking up excuses to come back, although the whole ballet school knows what's going on now. He's shy, the blond, nervous of what people think, and whilst Axel can understand that, everyone knows. Anyone who has seen Axel dance recently knows the improvement, and knows why it has occurred, knows the little blond is exactly what Axel needs to get his brain in gear for the dances, expects to see Rox in the wings of every future show. So it comes as a surprise, to many, when Axel's lead role as Orpheus is coming up, the re-working, Larxene joining the lower school for once, despite her pride, Roxas isn't there. Not in the audience, not behind the scenes, not the first night. Axel still dances, of course, still puts everything into it, but he can feel the emotions dropping, not quite so in tune with Larxene, his steps occasionally missing the mark. He comes off stage that first night, throws his shoes and his mirror, and screams. Leon and Cloud are waiting for him, with critique, but he knows what the fucking answer is; he thought Rox would be there, and Rox couldn't be bothered, or was too ashamed, too worried, too frightened. Axel's trembling with rage so hard that he doesn't realise he's broken the mirror until he sees his hand bleeding. Eventually, Leon and Cloud come to him, take one look, and Cloud's got arms around him, Leon bandaging his hand.

"It happens. I'm sorry, but it happens." Cloud is saying, and Axel waves it away.

"He didn't say."

"Well, when you've had a fight – "

"He didn't say anything. No fighting, no talking, nothing. Just walking out on me."

Cloud goes silent, swallows hard, and meets Leon's eyes. The other simply finishes his task, then ruffles the tendrils of hair which have escaped from Axel's braid.

"Get some sleep. Things are better in the morning."

Axel goes to sleep fuming, and wakes up roughly the same. There's a note that's been pushed under his door, and he rips it open, spots Leon's handwriting, and sags, sitting back on the bed to read it. By the end, his anger has faded, and he's simply puzzled, confused, hurt. If Roxas had just said he wasn't going to come, Axel wouldn't have looked for him, but this is all they've talked about for days, Roxas swearing he had tickets for three nights, and permission to be backstage for the rest of the shows, and he knew it was first night, he knew it was important. Leon's note just tells him to get over it and dance like his lover's still there. Lover. Axel laughs bitterly at that one, because it's not true, physically or emotionally, because whilst Rox won't say it, Axel's not going to push him into bed. He wants that moment to be defining, to be both of them together, not one forcing the other into that situation, not one chasing the other until the other gives into him. Lover isn't apt, not yet, not now, and Axel's realising the anger is simply there to chase the hurt away, to create rage where he might otherwise cry, to stop himself breaking down. He wants to do nothing, he wants to do a thousand things, wants to get drunk and screw someone, to scream and break things, to walk down to Roxas' flat and ask him why the hell he wasn't there. The last seems the most sensible, so that's what he does.

There's no one home at Roxas' place, and though Axel does have a spare key, he feels wrong wandering about, so quickly leaves, locking the door behind him. Naminé's room is empty, too, and it takes Axel over an hour of wandering the corridors before he gives up, returning to him room, where his phone rings – not for the first time, when he looks at it – and the screen tells him it's Roxas. He answers.

"Yes?"

"Please forgive me, please, please forgive me, I knew when it was, I had tickets, I swear, me and Nami, front row, I just couldn't be there, we had to, we had to go, we couldn't stay and I'm sorry but this is family, it's important, I needed to be here, and I know I needed to be there, too, but there's only one of me and - "

"Breathe, Rox." Axel says, softly, because there's tears in the blond's voice, and whilst Axel has no idea why he missed the performance, he can forgive it if it sets off his usually stoic partner.

"It's our dad, he's – "

"Then don't be sorry. Family's important."

"You're important." Roxas says, fiercely, and Axel can almost see his face, creased up in certainty, willing the redhead to believe him, "But I had to be here. Fuck, I'm the shittiest boyfriend ever."

It's the first time either of them have used that word, and Axel knows it's more of a struggle from home, too. Suddenly, he doesn't mind so much that Rox left him, that Rox ran home, because he's sorry, because he's important, because he's got a boyfriend.

"Don't worry about me. Any idea when you'll be back?"

"I'll make closing. I promise."
"Don't rush on my account, Rox. I've been waiting. I can wait a little longer."

The day doesn't look so bad, after that, although Axel realises he never actually asked what the problem was. When he dances that night, he just recalls Roxas saying that one word, and he's practically perfect. The audience roar with approval, and his dressing-room is full of flowers when he returns. He sets a few in water before he finds them, the bunch which must have been sent expensively, red and white roses, with a card in Rox's handwriting. It makes the entire thing worth it.