Roxas can't make it to the rest of the run, and Axel knows this, but it doesn't stop him watching, doesn't stop him looking – for his boyfriend, he reminds himself, he's allowed to say it now. It's known that Rox had family issues, so no one asks why he isn't here, but still Axel searches. It's the last night, and he's had no message saying Rox is coming home, so he doesn't look, doesn't see, dances like he thinks Rox is watching, like he said he would be. He's in tune, graceful, Larxene tossing smiles at him when she can, his body arcing through the movements, and there are more than a few journalists out there today, and he'll be noted, he'll be famous, he'll be the ipremier danseur/i soon, he will. His steps are near flawless, the chemistry with Larxene is perfect, every single emotion written on his face, and knows more than a few of the audience members will be crying, as they reach the end, as Orpheus has his last dance with Eurydice, before exiting the underworld alone. He dances like it's all he can breathe, and it isn't until he takes his bows that he realises Roxas is there, but the figure beside him isn't Naminé, but a man with his arm in plaster, grinning and slapping his thigh in lieu of being able to give applause. Roxas is smiling at him, blinding, and he wants to leap off the stage now and go to him, but instead just smiles back, and steps back to allow the curtain to cover the dancers for the final time.

Axel's half-dressed, wiping his make-up off, sat in tights and a hoodie, when there's a knock at the door, and Roxas pokes his head in.

"Oh, good, you're decent."

"Would you mind if I wasn't?"

Roxas makes a face then opens the door to allow the man behind him inside – he's holding himself stiffly, and Axel can diagnose broken ribs in that, limping, too, as well as the arm in plaster, and he realises this must be why Rox went home.

"Roxas' father! You can call me Rufus, it's fine."

He's got a huge booming voice, and Axel can hear it vanishing into the distance, because he has no idea what to do here, whether this is it, and Rox is telling his dad, or if he has to keep his mouth shut and his hands off his boyfriend because of this.

"Um… Axel."

"Yes, I remember seeing you when Elena and I used to take Nami to ballet – tiny thing you were then, of course, but wonderful to see you improved and all grown up, marvellous show, of course. So, you're Roxas' friend, and the boy who broke our Nami, hm?"

Friend. Friend hurts worse than being the boy who broke Naminé, friend hurts more than any of the words he could have said and Axel steps back, a false smile pasting itself onto his face.

"Yeah, sure. Well, I've got interviews, so, Rox, I'll see you in the next week."

He sidesteps the pair in the door and thinks he feels fingers catch his sleeve, but only for a second before he pulls away, stalking down the corridor and into Larxene's dressing room, too angry to speak, too hurt for words. She sees his face and just enfolds him in her arms, letting him press his head to her shoulder. He can't do this, not now, not to have that word taken away just as he felt he could use it safely. The phone in his hoodie pocket buzzes. He doesn't even bother to look.

Two days after the show, Axel finally gets a break from interviews, tucks himself up in bed and allows himself time to feel angry and hurt all over again. He hasn't checked his phone, so checks his messages, reading through Rox's pleas for him to come back, to come and see him, to come hang out with him and his dad at this restaurant, that beauty spot, this ballet show. He's missed them all, and can't bring himself to feel sorry for it, because Rox stood there, and didn't touch him, and there's not a single word of sorry here, nothing like that, no reassurance, nothing which hints at a more than friendly relationship. Axel can not cope with the idea that this is all they have, that this could be Roxas giving him the brush off in a way he can't argue with. He won't leave his room, he decides, will simply order takeout, hang out, do his stretches in this tiny space afforded him by the school, who are thinking of giving him a bigger room, soon, which is always the sign they want you to move into the professional company. Of course, that will mean lots of travel, only doing one show in the city a year, possibly, maybe not even that, and Axel wonders if he could turn it down, wonders if he could stop himself dancing to keep Roxas, but bites back on the thought, because Rox isn't his boyfriend, Rox isn't his anything, nothing special, nothing needed. He knows he's lying to himself, but right now, he doesn't know how to stop, doesn't know how to let this love stop, to let go, because it clearly means nothing to Roxas. But he knows he's lying there, too, knows he's making excuses for his own feelings. What did he expect, for Rox to bound in and tell his dad that he's dating the skinny, red-haired fuck up who crippled his sister and carried on dancing like nothing happened? He knows Rox is scared of people knowing, for whatever reason, knows that Rox doesn't even want people in the school to know, hides any and all affection in front of them, despite, really, knowing that they know. So if he wanted, just for a moment, for Rox to claim him, take ownership, to have missed him whilst he's been gone and show that, he was only ever fooling himself.

When there's a knock at his door, he answers, because it could be more press, it could be housing staff asking him to move, could be anyone. When he opens it, it's none of these things, but a tiny, gorgeous blonde with her hands on her hips.

"Boys!" she says, throwing her hands up, shaking her head, "You need everything written out for you. Honestly, what am I supposed to do with you, you big sulking lump of man?"

He folds her carefully in his arms, and she thwacks him on the arm.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"You're an idiot."

"I don't think I deserve that." Axel says, mock-hurt, rubbing his arm.

"You're an idiot." She says, again, but more gently this time, "Both of you are. Can't you see it? Why the hell did you think Rox brought Dad?"

Axel shrugs.

"See, idiot. If you'd looked him up for a second, you'd… never mind. Dad sponsors the arts. Dad pays for Rox's apartment. Dad got me the best medical care I could have so I might dance again. Dad pays for Rox's school, and that's why he's here, because Rox has asked to train as something more than just a lit professor. Dad wanted to see why."
"Why should I care?"

"Because you're the reason." Roxas says, from behind Naminé, and his dad's standing there with him, "Because you're the reason I'm changing the course of my life."

"He's good enough, certainly," Rufus says, "But – "

"No. He's spectacular. Not just good enough," Roxas says, fiercely, and even his dad takes a step back, Axel's breath catching in his throat, "He's… he's mine, dad. I should have said that first off – we're together."

Naminé gently disentangles herself as Roxas walks towards them and curls himself into Axel's body. Axel can't help but tilt his head down, as Rox looks up, and pulling him into a kiss, fuck who's watching, fuck everything, because he's been wanting this since Rox left without saying goodbye, been needing this. Roxas kisses back, fervently, like it's all he's wanted, too.

"I see." Rufus says, and he sounds amused, when they pull back, "Then I suppose I should thank you, Axel, for getting my youngest over his shame, and letting my oldest see where her dreams really lie."

Roxas rolls his eyes at his dad.

"You are so impossible to predict." He says, fondly, and Axel can't help but hold him a little tighter.

"Yes, yes. Alright, you win, I'll swap you to Leon's tutelage by next week, if he'll have you – boy owes me a few favours for getting that skinny blond of his out the corps de ballet anyway, and you'll repay me, won't you, by making him the best?"

Roxas just grins up at Axel. It's far from perfect, certainly, but this is a start, a start for them together, and Axel can do nothing but smile back, and kiss him.