A/N: Special thanks to artist Skrizzly Adams for providing the following lyrics (n.b., upon request, but not specifically for the purposes of including in this fic). As some background, he's a talented cross-genre singer who mixes traditional sounds of country with folk, blues, and rock, among others. Since he's an indie artist, this is my gentle recommendation to give his EP a listen. If you like, kindly spread the word so others can enjoy it too.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: THAT'S LIFE
"I've got a hard time taking responsibility, but
All these things we do don't turn out like they seem
I know that you don't care to follow me
Or maybe I just take myself a bit too seriously."
"That's Life" - Skrizzly Adams
It was becoming a math formula. A simple one, but mathematics nonetheless. By limiting himself to one pill every evening, his current batch would last through the upcoming weekend. The remaining time would quickly minimize in the event he needed to double up or pop one mid-way through lunch, even. In that instance, it was always worth considering Sora's cache of prescription meds, but that was risky, and it'd be easier for others to notice them missing given his brother's infrequent use of them. Moreover, Roxas had no desire to revisit the conversation about how he'd acquired his own supply anytime in the near future. Or ever.
Plodding down an overcrowded school hallway in the direction opposite his locker, Roxas tried not to think too much about the conversation with Xion he'd just cut short, or the metric ton of pent-up miserable that seemed a mainstay of his mood lately. It was a delicate balancing act with her at this point, because he knew she'd been trying to find time to talk to him now for the better part of a week. Only a few days remained of post-school, parent-imposed house arrest before that particular excuse would no longer hold even a single ounce of water. Then there'd be no further shelving of a talk that was not just imminent but inevitable at this point.
To an extent, he wanted to listen, to identify what was bothering Xion and help her work through it. There was even the chance that he could offer some form of support, in the process maybe absolve himself of sins associated with playing the role of emotionally absent boyfriend with such dedication of late.
It was also a lot less likely that continued avoidance would endear Xion to him when it came time to procure more of the pills he relied on so heavily.
So, despite his indifference to Cloud's threats about final bell timeliness, Roxas maintained a brisk pace, his rounded shoulders the only indication that he'd rather be dragging his feet than performing a closer approximation to speed-walking.
Even so, the library was almost empty by the time he'd traveled half the building to get to it, save for the librarian packing up near the front, a few students having a hushed conversation as he passed them by in the stacks, and Sora alone and still seated at a study table near the back, complete with a troubled look adding tension to his usually much sunnier countenance.
Eyes scanning the expanse of textbooks and papers spread out across the lacquered surface of the library table, Roxas announced his presence with a wide-mouthed yawn.
"You about done? Cloud'll be around soon, if he's not out waiting already."
"Keep your voice down." A light slap reverberated up his arm and Sora shot him a pointed look. "Last I checked, this is a library."
"With no one in it," Roxas pointed out, continuing on at the same unabashed volume. "If a tree falls in a forest and no one's around to hear it, does it count as noise, y'know, strictly speaking?"
Although in profile as Sora turned to pack up, the subsequent eye roll and arched brow were easily visible. "I'm here, and I hear you, so what's that make me, chopped liver?"
The comment, though whispered, was offered with his usual good spirits, not that Roxas bothered to comment on it.
"How about just hurry up and stop being your usual brand of smartass?" Unknowingly mirroring his brother's expression, Roxas glanced up at the wall clock. "Cloud's gonna be irritable if he has to wait too long. He's acting like having to chauffeur us around on a day off is akin to losing the War of Northern Aggression a second time."
As Sora slid the final book into his bag and reached for his crutches beneath the table, he shrugged.
"And whose fault is that?"
Adopting an air of abject innocence, Roxas snatched up Sora's bag, slung it over his free shoulder, and batted his lashes, offering his answer in an expertly affected falsetto.
"Why, whatever do you mean? You can't possibly be directing such unfounded accusations at little ol' me, surely."
"Whatever."
Another eye roll, followed by a scoff that didn't come close to offsetting his rising smile, and Roxas found himself remembering how his Southern belle impressions had once been routinely followed by Sora's delighted laughter. Even now, with his brother's purported commitment to respecting a site of academic quiet, the hint of two front teeth pressing into a thin bottom lip gave Roxas sufficient visual specifics to assume Sora remained a clandestine fan of his vocal dramatics. That being noted, Roxas didn't say anything further as Sora nudged a hospital-issued crutch into place under one arm with the inside of an elbow, then swung himself away from the study table.
They headed toward the front of the school without a word shared between them at first, the silence brotherly and comfortable as Roxas aligned his gait to accommodate Sora's slower pace. Remembering the downcast expression Sora had been sporting when he'd first entered the library, Roxas stole a glance over, and decided to do some sleuthing.
"Everything alright with you and Kairi? You looked a little down in the mouth earlier, and I noticed she didn't stick around study hall to wait with you."
It was a question primarily about Sora, but with the subsidiary aim of soliciting some information about Axel, if Roxas was being totally honest with himself. The knowledge was enough to make him feel suddenly self-conscious, and Roxas pulled up ahead as they reached the front entrance in an attempt to offset it, pushing at the door so he could hold it open for Sora, whose expression seemed curiously guarded.
"We're fine. I just think I may have done something that got someone upset earlier this week."
Both brothers paused as they stood and scanned for Cloud among the line of cars. They found him idling not far from the front procession of parents and older siblings still waiting for student latecomers. As his brother pointed in Cloud's direction, Roxas merely nodded, thoughts still on Sora's verbal evasion of what'd felt to him like a relatively straightforward question.
They started to make their way over to Cloud, and Roxas doggedly tried again.
"Kairi isn't usually one to hold grudges."
"Yeah, she doesn't." The response came in a three word rush, Sora's pitch higher than typical, words clipped. "It's not about her anyway."
Hm, Roxas mused. Why was that not in the least bit surprising?
With a light shake of his head, Sora picked up speed, perhaps anticipating Roxas' reaction a split second before his eyes had a chance to narrow or say anything pointed. His brother clearly didn't want to expand on it.
Not that that'd ever stopped him before. As he pulled up alongside the car a few steps after his brother, Roxas stole a glance at Cloud through the window, took note of his dark expression, and made the executive decision to temporarily drop the subject. While their mother had generally been too tired to dig into him on the drive home every other day this week, he had a feeling he wouldn't be continuing that blessed record this afternoon with Cloud seated in front of the steering wheel.
Roxas aimed a critical look at Sora that implied their conversation wasn't over — not by a long run if that jackass transfer student was causing Sora any form of disquiet whatsoever — then yanked open the car door and went to work helping him get situated in the backseat before resigning himself to the spot next to Cloud up front riding shotgun.
With a prolonged rev and unnecessarily physical wrench of the stick shift, Cloud pulled away from the curb before Roxas could even think to reach for his seatbelt. He released a soft hiss as his shoulder hit the sedan's frame interior, and it took considerable restraint to suppress the collection of colorful curses that formed as a consequence. Shooting a dissident glare in his brother's direction, he reached for the seatbelt strap, finally able to pull it across his chest and secure it.
"I must've missed the fire."
Expression darkly set and eyes on the road in front of him, Cloud sucked in a breath, shoulders rising, chin thrust out and angled up. The subsequent exhale offered each movement's physical inverse, his words supplemental and harsh.
"Just wanted to make sure I'm home and rested before your next incidence of derelict behavior, maybe put in a time off request if this is gonna become a regular occurrence."
As he overshot a second turn, Roxas felt the seatbelt strap bite into his collar and stifled the urge to tell his brother exactly what part of his anatomy he could shove his blistering attitude straight into. He'd skipping class a grand total of once — one Christ-forsaken time on a week that had zapped the ultimate last of his emotional reserves — and Cloud had the nerve to treat him like an outright felon over it?
Yeah, so. Full-out fuck all of that.
Scowl settling, Roxas chewed on the inside of his cheek but begrudgingly kept quiet. It was one thing to argue with Cloud when he was alone, and with both feet planted on solid ground for that matter, quite another to go at it when Sora was within earshot, in a moving vehicle driven by someone who looked like fatigue could easily override navigational logic if Roxas pushed him too far and compounded this no-win disagreement.
The notable absence of a rapid-fire retort seemed to mollify Cloud. As they slowed at a stoplight at the edge of downtown, Roxas watched his brother's gaze rise to get a view of Sora in the rearview mirror.
"How's school been going since you got back?"
Sitting sideways behind them, injured leg propped up across the length of the backseat, Sora offered an upbeat smile. Of the two front-seat occupants, only Roxas seemed to notice that it appeared more forced than natural.
"Pretty good. I got all caught up on assignments before I returned, thanks to Kairi."
"Good." With a curt nod, Cloud glanced over at Roxas, then returned his scowl. "Nice to hear at least one of y'all's got your head screwed on proper. They'll be announcing who made valedictorian soon too, right?"
"Yeah, actually."
This time, Sora's expression was genuine, and Roxas listened in silence as he launched into a flurry of enthused speculation detailing his main competition for a title he'd been working toward since practically the first day he'd set foot in high school.
Although mostly one-sided, with a single word reply or quiet sound on Cloud's end during pauses when Sora stopped to take a breath, the topic held until they reached the unmarked divide between downtown Radiant Hollow and the Strife's own neighborhood. During that time, Roxas stayed quiet, thoughts drifting back to the circumstances that had made him the target of his older brother's ire to begin with. It wasn't until they'd passed one street in particular, wholly unremarkable save for fact that Highwind's Tire and Mechanical was located just a few blocks down on it, that Roxas looked back over at Cloud and acquiesced to a question that'd been nagging him for the better part of a week now.
"While we're on the subject of school and students…" Clearing his throat to give his mind time to catch up with his mouth, Roxas considered how to pose his question as Cloud shifted his gaze and briefly looked at him before returning it to the road. "I met someone I think might've gone to school with you."
Cloud's responding grunt was the essence of indifferent.
Before he could lose his nerve — or limited supply of patience, in this instance — Roxas forged on.
"Red hair, skinny as hell, a little emo," he ticked off. "Loads of body art too, but that may be a more recent thing."
As he spoke, Roxas noted a subtle increase in car speed. It followed the blanching of knuckles as Cloud's fingers clenched down on the sedan's knobby steering wheel.
"What'd you say his name was?"
Still carefully watching his brother, Roxas shook his head even though Cloud wasn't looking at him.
"I didn't."
That merely got him a raised eyebrow that smacked of impatience.
Fine, then.
"Axel LaChappelle."
Cloud's reaction was about the opposite of what Roxas had expected. Shoulders relaxed, then hands loosened their grip, and the hint of tension that had tightened his jawline vanished as he took his turn shaking his head.
"That sure's got a distinctive sound to it." The pause Cloud took didn't last long enough to raise Roxas' hopes up more than a mere inch before laying them to rest beneath of headstone of verbal sureness. "Name don't ring a bell, however."
Not a bell, Roxas thought, but something had struck some sort of a chord. Before he could formulate a logical follow-up, the car turned onto their street and he heard the telltale rustling of backpack fabric against the clink of a metal crutch as Sora shifted behind him and began gathering his belongings.
Without another word, Cloud steered the car onto their property, then maneuvered it closer to the front porch, no doubt to cut the distance Sora would have to hobble over uneven front yard topography.
Just as subdued, Roxas hopped from the car before Cloud had cut the ignition, his own backpack slung over one shoulder, splinted finger raking against the sedan's back door handle as he reached to open it and extend his good hand out to Sora. His brother waved him off with an impatient look, beyond conceding his backpack in favor of devoting more attention to wrangling his crutches out of the backseat.
Cloud entered the house ahead of them, and Roxas was left to do his part clearing a path for Sora across the yard, the rubber of worn sneaker soles sweeping loose gravel and other debris off to one side. By the time they'd reached the bottom edge of the ramp, Cloud was back with Sora's fold-away wheelchair in his arms, and Roxas made a point of pretending he didn't see Sora's disheartened expression at the mere sight of it.
By now, Sora knew the drill, even if it was clear how he felt about it. Not meeting either brothers' eyes, he transferred his crutches into Roxas' waiting arms, then checked his one-footed balance against the porch railing while Cloud headed over and set the wheelchair on the ground in front of him. The ensuing refusal to let anyone help him into it remained a sole remnant of lasting pride as Sora lowered himself on his own, thin arms straining under his own modest weight.
Neither brother spoke as they watched, expressions masked, but both at the ready to offer help if Sora ended up needing it. It was Cloud who steered him around the porch, then up onto the ramp and into the house, with Roxas trailing a few feet behind. It was Roxas who watched Cloud wheel Sora into the living room, then help him relocate from wheelchair to couch.
Without looking back as he took a seat beside him, Cloud reached for the remote control and called out to Roxas.
"You're on dinner duty tonight. And it better not be anything microwavable."
Still framed between the rusty screen and open front entrance, Roxas let both backpacks slide off his arms and hit the floor, unmindful of the tandem thunks that followed.
"While you're gonna be doing what, precisely?"
"Resting," Cloud returned. As if to illustrate, he reclined into the sofa's rear cushion before turning on the television, arm outstretched, remote click definitive. "It's still my day off, and that little off-campus excursion of yours cost me my opportunity to sleep in this morning."
Glancing over his shoulder, Sora looked up at Roxas. "I can help you make something."
"You stay put," Cloud cut in before Roxas could respond to the offer. "Dinner tonight's on the fledgling delinquent."
Trudging toward the couch, Roxas managed to hold his tongue until he'd passed both brothers and made it into the adjacent dining room.
"You know, stopping for Arby's on the way home would've been quicker."
"Better tasting too, I'm guessing." Steel-toed boots rose until both heels met the top of the coffee table, then crossed at the ankle. "But that costs money, and you haven't been inspiring much generosity in me lately."
Taking a moment to direct an insipid look at the back of his brother's head, Roxas ambled into the kitchen, eyes skimming a note left on the counter explaining his mom's plans to grab dinner with some fellow day workers today after work, before he made toward the refrigerator to take stock of what he had to work with. From the living room, he heard Sora answer a snippet of gameshow trivia in the form of a question a beat before the contestant rang in with the same correct answer.
Turning his thoughts back to the contents of the refrigerator, Roxas considered his options. If he cooked an old favorite, maybe it'd increase the likelihood of Sora actually eating more than an inadequate few bites of something for once. However reassuring, the thought came without ample conviction to fully back it. The best he could probably hope for was Sora conceding a few extra bites at the behest of a couple strategically worded guilt-trips on his part. As he got to work pulling food out of the freezer, Roxas told himself that it was also possible tonight would be different.
Sometimes these silent lies were essential, and sometimes they had to be treated like precious commodities. Because with ever increasing frequency, Roxas had more than an inkling that they were the only effective means of keeping himself from losing hope about the status of fast-crumbling Strife family dynamics. He knew full well their lives were a house of cards, that it could all so quickly collapse in front of him if he let his guard down for even a brief moment. Like an approaching, emotional avalanche, once enough momentum built up he was just as certain that it was something there'd be no realistic way to turn back from.
o - o
He knew she was there before the girl uttered a single word. She was the subtle rustling of feathered appendages around both ears, the sigh of wind through willowy backyard tree leaves as a supplement. Moreover, she encouraged the jittery sensation of being full-on lucid at one in the morning, all the while knowing that singular salvation was a mere six feet off, tucked away in a plastic baggy at the bottom of his backpack.
And sometimes, at his most desperate, she was the beguiling silver of sharp, flat edges pried out of their cheap plastic casings, along with the whispered, coded numerics from the deepest corner of his dresser drawer, beneath mismatched socks and shoddily folded underclothes.
There were so many forms she took beyond the corporeal. This was why he could never really rest, was so often seeking some form of physical solace. Meds, sex, sharps — it was the end result that mattered most, the means to achieving it more or less irrelevant.
For the last handful of hours, he'd lain on his side and attempted to sleep, one shoulder pressed into an especially lumpy divot in his mattress. He could have moved a few inches, had the option to shift entirely onto his back and reposition. Whether by choice or some unknown, intervening force more powerful than the need for physical comfort, he'd remained in the same position first settled into after vacating the living room, long after dishes had been deposited into the kitchen sink still grimed up with what had amounted to a piss poor attempt at dinner on his part, if Cloud's word was to be trusted in this regard.
His vision was clear though, even if there wasn't much to look at now that the soft glow of the living room lamp had been extinguished. He'd heard Cloud head out about an hour earlier, leaving nothing more than indistinct shadows to traverse his walls, care of the next door neighbor's back porch light.
"Are you there?"
The question was whispered but unwavering. He had a theory, untested but about which he felt relatively confident, that she never truly left him, was just simply amenable to making her presence known some times more than others.
"Koté ou yé?"
He tried again, summoning the words from the recesses of patchy childhood memories. With them came flashes of auditory recall, of laughter, and twangy string instrumentals played by friends of his long-dead grandparents. If pressed, he'd never have admitted to knowing any of the words his father'd once hurled at him through sour breath that so often led to punches and slaps, sometimes glass shattering against walls on particularly difficult evenings.
He'd never admit it, but Roxas remembered enough. He also knew better; and at times like these, it seemed outright impudent to be addressing the girl in English.
Sora probably had his own theories, about her appearances and Roxas' ability to see her, about the way she dressed and the sounds that announced her impending presence, even her penchant for addressing him in a mixture of broken English and the airier tongue that'd once thrived in the bayou. But Roxas had never asked Sora for his opinion. In some ways, it was unthinkable that he'd ever even admitted to her existence. Ultimately, it'd just seemed appropriate, an origin story that belonged to Sora as much as it did Roxas.
The sound of scraping pulled him away from his thoughts, and Roxas sat up, tired eyes fixed on the open window. It was true that the girl rarely made appearances when he was expecting her, but he also held strong to the belief that she was more than capable of changing the rules when he least expected it. This was her show, after all, and his simply a supporting role in it.
Fingers curling around the ledge of his mattress on either side of closed legs, Roxas inhaled, held his breath, and listened for any sign that the sounds he'd just heard were in any way unusual.
"…Naminé?"
The word was an exhaled breath between his lips, a prayer uttered to both god and demon. Despite the night's thick humidity, Roxas felt a cold claw of fear graze the back of his neck. It lingered only a moment, from there raking a deliberate path down the successive links in the canal of his back.
He rarely dared think her name, let alone speak it. Just three simple syllables, breathy and nasal, and his arm throbbed with a phantom ache as though acknowledging the inherent audacity of these repeated nightly incidents. His vision distorted, warped in and out of focus. Unsettled, Roxas closed his eyes, upper body swaying slowly in place as he made an attempt at steadying his breath and remembered the blinding light of one portentous Spring afternoon, now almost a year removed. He recalled crowded school stadium bleachers, felt the ache of burning lungs, and the tension of well-trained calf muscles as they tightened and released after clearing each successive track hurdle in front of him.
His pulse increased, a heady sense of adrenaline thrumming at his temples as he anticipated the next scene. An internal flinch at the pain that had followed, and the vision flickered amidst a chorus of ominous sounds that rose up in force, amplified by the silence of a house with only one occupant still conscious.
He opened his eyes, then froze at the sight before him. Shoulders jerked once before stilling under locked arms and hands clenched so tightly into the edges of his mattress that the knuckles in his fingers cracked in protest.
While Roxas remained motionless beyond the rise and fall movement of labored breathing, a bird perched on the window before him. It shifted on the sill, head bobbing with the corresponding shuffling movement, feathers expanding like the rising hackles of a startled cat.
In the back of his mind, another girl's name formed, along with a complimenting image, all pale skin and blue eyes framed beneath a dark swath of hair cropped around her diminutive, downcast chin as she looked up at him through dark lashes.
Mentally dismissing it, Roxas pushed himself to standing, body a mirror of Sora's feeble balance earlier as he tried to steady himself against the frame of his bed. In response, the bird skittered more quickly along the window to the corner of the frame furthest away from him.
"Git…"
The word was quieter than he'd intended. Although the bird cocked its head and looked at him, it didn't move, and Roxas felt the muscles in his neck tighten, the subsequent inhale of air catching mid-way between chest and throat.
"Go on."
Still faint but louder this time, he added a single step forward and a quick flourish of outstretched arms to supplement.
Wings spreading like an animate fan, each feather was a bladed sheen of darkly macabre ominous. Nevertheless, the bird took flight, one disdainful clack of a tapered beak its final parting gift. It settled in the top branches of a nearby tree and there it remained, watching with eyes that felt almost intelligent while Roxas made a grab at the window and latched it in one consummate motion. The curtains followed soon after until the creature was no longer visible.
Only then did he allow himself to breathe easier, the first intake of air since the bird's appearance shallow but appreciated. Only then did Roxas notice his own subtle shivering, tiny tremors formed in the pit of his stomach that traveled gradually outward in harmony with soft rivulets of laughter, ubiquitous and sprinkled like intermittent spring showers around him.
He began to pace the length of the cramped room, hand reaching up to thread through multiple hair tangles that hinted at the fitful rest he'd been grappling with earlier. This time when his splint caught a snag, there was no mental registering of pain up into his hand and arm, and Roxas concluded the finger must be healing. Ultimately, it just added up to one less distraction to take advantage of when he needed as many in his arsenal as he could get his hands on, literally or figuratively.
With the window shut snug, the air around him quickly condensed from hotly uncomfortable to downright suffocating. Ven's room was one of the few in their house that didn't have an air conditioning unit, not that he'd be inclined to use it this early in the season and risk his mother's ire at an obscenely high electric bill anyway. With lingering, heightened adrenaline and a frenetic need to keep himself busy doing something, his options came down to reopening the window so he could breathe again or leaving.
Roxas chose the latter.
The shorts he'd worn the day before were near his backpack where he'd dropped them a few hours earlier. They probably needed washing, but he was beyond caring at this hour. Grabbing them before making a beeline for his dresser, Roxas pulled open a bottom drawer and fished for a clean t-shirt.
He considered socks next, one hand hovering over the topmost drawer of his dresser. Thoughts shifted to the sharps in the far back corner stored beneath balled up boxers, but Roxas kept his fingers near the front as he ultimately opted out of socks in favor of a fresh pair of undershorts.
He dressed quickly, noting that his earbuds and phone were still in his shorts pocket before heading out of his room and down the upstairs hall. Sora's room was the only spot where he hesitated, eyes momentarily fixed on the soft glow of light peeking out a sliver from under his door. After a breathless moment with no discernible sound filtering out to him, Roxas continued past and made his way down the stairs, ignoring the compulsion to turn around and slip into Sora's room.
It was true that he'd always been welcomed when he was having trouble sleeping, that lying close to his brother tended to combat even the worst case of insomnia. Things felt different now though, and Roxas wasn't so internally focused that he couldn't acknowledge it was probably his own fault, as much as he'd have preferred scapegoating someone like Riku and absolving himself in the process.
Thoughts of his classmate were more motivation to continue forward. The last thing Roxas wanted to be doing while lying next to Sora was find himself fixating on Riku.
The living room was empty, Cloud long departed, his mother having retired to her bedroom hours earlier. He padded past the television and couch, sights set on a destination that wasn't yet visible, light from the neighbor's yard still reflecting through uncovered kitchen windows. As Roxas reached the fireplace mantle, he slowed, eyes drifting past the framed pictures on display. They were scenes from past years, mostly of him and his brothers. The ones with his father had been removed ages ago, although Roxas could still remember where they'd once been placed along the row of frames. He stopped and took time to study each in turn, letting himself briefly remember the circumstances under which each had been taken, eyes finally settling on one at the far right.
This image was different, and almost a decade old. It was Cloud and two friends out back by the old family tool shed. His brother would have been a high school junior, same for Leon who was standing to his left. It was the third boy who Roxas considered more closely. A high school senior when the photo had been taken, Zack had always been so vocal about his aspirations to join the military and that'd been reflected in his penchant for wearing camo print pants even before he'd enlisted. They didn't particularly match the dark shirt he was wearing, not that fashion had ever been a priority in this backwater town. Stock still, calves tensing, Roxas continued to scrutinize the photo, and Zack specifically, searching for something, an intangible answer to a question that was too deeply buried in his subconscious to summon at will any longer.
In the dead silence of night, and with a growing sense of unrest, Roxas realized he couldn't quite define it, even though it felt imminently significant.
Frustrated, he turned away and headed for the kitchen, stopping just long enough to consider rummaging through the refrigerator before deciding he wasn't hungry.
Like a moth, the light from outside seemed to draw him closer. At any rate, it felt more welcoming than this prison of four-walled silence, of lingering, unhappy memories that'd over the years seeped through to its very foundation. He unlatched the screen door, careful to push its protesting hinges just wide enough to slip out onto the porch steps, then eased it back into place as quietly as feasible given its present state of physical neglect.
He glanced at the tree first, scanning the inky darkness, eyed swaying branches and mossy fronds that rustled in a light spring breeze, ears straining for any indication that a feathered inhabitant remained above, watching from the natural cover that late night provided.
Sensing little and seeing less, Roxas lowered himself onto the cracked cinderblock porch steps, elbows pressing into the top of his legs as he dropped his chin into the cupped palms of both hands. He sat in silence, toes curling over the edge of the bottommost step, the pads of his feet pressing lightly into the uneven, gravely edge of decades old cement.
There was something comfortable, maybe even comforting, about the familiarity of this space. It hadn't always held good memories, but the more negative had faded with time, the finer details of it hard to recall. With graduation and just one final summer standing between him and community college, that was all liable to change, and Roxas feared the near guarantee that a hard-earned balance between positive and negative might shift soon again. The simple knowledge that he'd still be living at home wasn't enough to quell his worries about what was fast approaching.
College would be a mixture of the similar and different, much like that West Coast transfer's arrival at school had ushered in change of a similar nature. Ultimately both were transitions, two simple interims between the familiar and unknown. What came after was what concerned Roxas most, because not for a single instant did he believe that a two year degree would satisfy his brother's sizable aspirations.
Because Sora was smart. But maybe he was too smart for a place like this, his ideas too big, the potential for him to make something of himself elsewhere too great to be contained within the limits of small-town Radiant Hollow. And maybe this shouldn't have been such a bitter pill for Roxas to swallow, because Sora wouldn't be the first Strife brother to set out on his own after high school, but Ven was different. Ven came home to visit, had plans to settle down in a city suburb within driving distance. Even with Sora's medical restrictions, Roxas had no confidence his brother would be willing to agree to a similar setup if the opportunity arose for him to leave for bigger and better destinations.
As far as he was concerned, the backyard was offering no solid answers on how to handle any of this. Now that his adrenaline had ebbed, however, Roxas found he had no energy to get up and drag himself back to bed. Dropping his arms, he reached into his pocket, intending to pop in his earbuds and listen to a playlist of songs he could lose himself in. His hand connected with his phone first.
Shoulders hunching over the device held a few inches above his lap, he clicked it on and tapped through the lock screen. Tired eyes scanned the various apps he'd installed, flipping through screen after screen without really seeing any of them, at least not until a red, numbered notification caught his attention on one social media app in particular.
They were double digit notifications, actually, and Roxas took a moment to acknowledge that he couldn't remember the last time he'd bothered scrolling through his friends' Facebook updates. As he tapped the icon to scan the most recent notifications, he realized the majority of them had come from one classmate specifically. A date suddenly came to him, for better or worse.
Because Selphie'd had her phone out at St. Bastion's almost the entire night and here was photographic proof of it. Right.
With a heavy sigh, Roxas pulled up every photo in the list, dutifully untagging himself from each in turn. There was something satisfying about severing the virtual connection imposed by a more socially active classmate. Even though none of the images she'd captured of him were particularly incriminating since he hadn't been smoking or drinking, he still liked having the final say in what the general town populace knew about his after-school activities.
The photos tagged with Sora gave Roxas more food for thought, because the majority of them also included Riku. They were more or less innocent, showing Sora sitting and eating graham crackers beside his new classmate, and Sora caught laughing or smiling next to Kairi. It was one taken after Roxas had left for the parking lot that caught him off-guard, to some extent even churned the half-digested contents of his stomach as a hot surge of brotherly protectiveness formed deep inside him. Because it was Sora seated at Riku's feet, the log bench at his back, eyes closed and upper body leaning as he rested one temple on the fancy, brand label fabric of Riku's pants.
Still fresh, the last conversation he'd had with Zack returned to Roxas, the implications of an exchange overheard between Kairi and Sora from the open window above their heads following next. Suddenly, the two people Roxas least wanted to think about were at the forefront of his thoughts as time inched its way toward two in the morning on a week he was grounded and managing to piss everyone off with such proficient consistency, with two more full days of school still to get through before the weekend and its analogous freedom.
Everything was coming up fucking roses of late, just, wasn't it?
Lost in thought, he'd let the phone screen darken over the past few minutes. The illuminated brightness of a message notification subsequently caught his attention. Considering his current disposition, Roxas would have been more than inclined to ignore it, if not for the unanticipated name of the sender attached to a simple question.
Are you awake?
He stared at the message long enough to feasibly read something far longer, but ultimately unlocked his phone and shot off a single word answer in the affirmative.
Keeping his eyes on the screen, he tried to guess what might get sent back next. His phone vibrated with an incoming call instead.
Hesitating, he glanced up at Sora's window. Confirming it was closed, Roxas accepted the call, then lifted the phone to one ear.
"Hey."
The word was returned to him as Ven echoed his greeting.
"You're up late."
Although he wasn't on video, Roxas shrugged anyway.
"Couldn't sleep. Same for you?"
"Oh, I definitely want to." The fatigue in his brother's voice was obvious across the line now that Roxas was on notice to listen for it. "I'm doing some last minute studying for a test in my marketing class."
Not having the faintest clue what that entailed, or enough interest in the topic to ask Ven to elaborate, Roxas changed the subject.
"How'd you know I was up?"
He heard the sound of textbook pages flipping, the scrape of glass against the surface of a wood desk, and a slosh of fizzy liquid before Ven responded. "Your messenger status was on available. Found it unusual since you're never online, so I figured I'd check in and see how it's going. Been awhile, hasn't it?"
It had been, Roxas conceded. He was usually better at keeping himself offline or invisible on the infrequent instances he bothered with social media. Regardless, they'd been ships in the night and missing Ven's calls to the house landline lately anyhow due to variances in their respective schedules.
"Any reason you couldn't sleep? Or are you just up late studying too, and if so, put Sora on so I can say hi to him."
Although Roxas knew Ven was teasing, he wasn't in the mood for it, didn't have the energy to even pretend to humor him at present.
"He's already put up his books and gone to bed, far as I know." When the silence lingered between them like a tangible layer of expectation, Roxas suppressed a sigh and forced himself to continue. "And it's just been a lot of new developments I'm not sure what to think about."
The admission was out before he could think of something less honest to say, not that he felt much like lying. When he'd still lived at home, Ven had been the easiest person for Roxas to talk to about things that were bothering him, minor problems he didn't want to burden Sora with and those he didn't think Cloud would take seriously, being so far removed from his own time in high school. Just because Ven was a good listener didn't mean Roxas wanted to get into the grit of any of this now though.
"Like what?"
He'd known a follow-up question was coming. With such a vague comment on his part, it was practically predestined. So much for his adept skill at deflection. It was probably time to step up the game unless he wanted to find himself in a half-conscious, early morning confessional with one of the few people he hadn't yet managed to ostracize.
"Like Mom wants to know if you have a girlfriend."
There was a pause on Ven's end of the line, a muffled noise akin to a chuckle only half successfully stifled as he cleared his throat.
"Does Cloud?"
"He's got Leon," Roxas returned. "Close enough."
Full-out laughter this time, and even Roxas conceded a small smile, if only because he knew just how poorly Cloud would react to anyone who dared to say that straight to his face. After putting him on mandatory dinner duty, the barb was as close as he was going to get to poetic justice tonight, Roxas figured.
"Well, I don't, and it's quaint if you think I'd be able to hide something like that from y'all anyway." Although the answer was likely meant to sound admonishing, Ven's tone told a different story that didn't quite manage to hide his underlying amusement. "And nice attempt at dodging my question."
It'd figure he'd circle back; Ven wasn't dumb and he'd always been keen to support family and friends in times when they needed uplifting. With a heavy breath, Roxas quickly ran through his options, knowing full well there wasn't much Ven could do from a distance, no matter how strong his natural inclination to try and help fix things.
Where to start was the bigger issue. Did he mention the shit-show that school had become since he'd stopped routinely submitting homework? Talk about how Hayner just couldn't put aside his Seifer-inspired dislike long enough to get over himself and make a genuine attempt at reconnecting with Olette? How about Zack's untimely return, his and Xion's crumbling alliance, or the voice that kept reminding him how most of this current mess was a product of his own careless devise?
"I think Sora's got a crush," he blurted out instead. He took it out on his lower lip with successive vehemence, all the while silently reprimanding himself for bringing up a topic he'd already established he had no wish to revisit.
"Really." As expected, the declaration was effective at redirecting Ven's attention. "Who's the lucky girl?"
Oh, here we go…
Biting into his lip even harder, Roxas considered deflecting but came up empty, so conceded a mumbled answer. "It's not one."
There was an interlude of a solid thirty seconds where Ven went quiet. This time, Roxas didn't jump in or bother to clarify.
"Not a girl?"
"Yeah." Releasing his lip, Roxas slouched forward, dropping his elbows into his lap, phone sliding a few inches away from his ear to accommodate the new position. "Pretty sure, anyway."
"Huh." Another pause, tone less surprised than it was thoughtful. It was followed by one word, faint but decisive. "Okay."
Silence settled between them, and Roxas found his gaze traveling, mind wandering along with it as he reconsidered the photo Selphie had posted of Sora curled up beside Riku. He wasn't sure how it made him feel, not exactly, also didn't know if he was reading too much into it. It hadn't just been the image though. Over the past week, the evidence had been stacking, one chunk on top of other damning pieces beneath it, that Sora's interest involved more than just the desire for friendship. There'd been Roxas' own observations at St. Bastion's before Selphie'd even snapped that incriminating image, for one, then Sora's clear trepidation at the prospect of being examined at the ER by a doctor with the same distinctive surname — not to mention the conversation both he and Zack had overheard in the backyard just a week ago. If Zack had come to the same conclusion from one vaguely worded exchange, it'd be just as quickly obvious to anyone who spent even a fraction of the time around Sora if his brother didn't watch himself.
Knowing Sora, he wouldn't see any reason to deny it if someone directly asked him anyway, and that especially didn't sit well with Roxas. Not in this town, with its decades of built-up ignorance packaged and sold as longstanding traditionalism. The verdict was still out on the 'not anywhere' part, as far as Roxas was concerned.
"Does it matter?"
Ven's voice broke through Roxas' musings. Caught mid-thought, it was also disorienting, and Roxas found himself stuck as to where exactly they'd last left off.
"Does what?"
"Sora." Ven's tone was level, reflecting his trademark equanimity. "Does it matter who he likes?"
Roxas considered the question, unsure if Ven was looking for a specific answer or was just being long-distance curious. "I… guess not, long as he's careful who finds out about it here."
The squeak of a chair reclining backward met his ears, then the rolling of wheels over uneven flooring, the sound of a textbook snapped shut following soon after.
"You sound a bit blind-sided by it."
"Guess I am," Roxas said. The admission in itself didn't fully satisfy him, however. "It's not like he's come out and said something to confirm or deny either way. It's just a feeling I'm getting, plus some observations. I figure if I'm noticing though, so are others."
"Then I think what matters," Ven offered, "is that you're willing to keep an eye on the situation and prepared to intervene if someone seems like they're fixing to start something."
That seemed reasonable, actually, if somewhat infeasible. He and Sora didn't have that many of the same classes, didn't even spend much time after school together of late. Maybe Kairi could help, but that required approaching her, and Roxas wasn't sure if she'd spare him so much as sixty seconds, given all the ragging about deadbeat dads and questionable fashion choices he'd thrown at her over the past year, even if his concerns involved Sora.
That left going straight to the source and having a little chat with Riku. Or threatening him, more like. That would probably be the most satisfying. It also risked the prospect of getting straight-up sucker punched if he misspoke. Given the results of Riku's latest encounters with Seifer, it didn't seem highly probable. Roxas also wasn't much of a fighter. While Riku might be clueless about high school social rules, Roxas suspected there was more to his classmate's refusal to fight back than simply being a coward, especially if the biceps he boasted beneath the sleeves of over-priced fitted tees meant anything in the larger scope of things.
So much for that idea. Back to the drawing board, he guessed.
"You fall asleep on me over there?" Although he sounded tired, Ven still seemed in high spirits. In that way, his approach to things wasn't all that dissimilar to Sora. The question also provided an effective reminder that Roxas had been zoning out again.
"I'm here. Probably should get to bed soon though."
"You and me both. Call it a night, then?"
"Yeah, sure."
Roxas spoke without much conviction. He was fatigued, but the exhaustion went deeper than a base physical. He didn't exactly know how to explain it to Ven, also wasn't sure he even wanted to make an attempt.
Much to his surprise, Ven laughed again over the line. "Save some of that excitement for my visit."
"Shut up." Despite himself, the snarky comment elicited another small smile. "When'll you be home again?"
"Assuming finals don't kill me?" Ven let out a harried breath. "Mid-May. I gave Cloud the exact dates."
"Lucky." Looking down, Roxas curled his toes over the cinderblock steps. "We're not done 'til halfway through June."
"Well, hang in there. That's not so far off, really."
Though his words were probably meant to be encouraging, they only served to hit an uncomfortable nerve in Roxas, as well as remind him that his status as high school graduate still hung in a delicate balance thanks to his cringeworthy grades of late. Yet again, not something to bring up with Ven.
"Your room'll be ready when you get here," he said instead. "We're all looking forward to your visit."
They said their good-byes and signed off soon after.
Then it was just him by his lonesome in the backyard once again, the chirrup of occasional crickets his last remaining compatriot. Looking up, Roxas scanned the yard and listened for any sounds that might prove him wrong.
Nothing. No girlish laughter, which would surely come again later. Not even a hint of the bird from earlier.
Roxas rose. He pocketed his phone and turned toward the screen door. This time, he didn't hesitate as he reentered the house. He didn't stop in the kitchen or pause in front of the fireplace to reminisce over decade-old photos before retracing his path up the stairs. He slipped past his brother's room on silent feet, and returned to the space that had once belonged to Ventus, head a jumble of warring images, senses once again ready and waiting for a preternatural reminder that no matter where he went he was never truly alone when he needed a mental reprieve most of all.
o - o
The ride to school that morning was both quiet and awkward. With Sora reading in the sedan's backseat while Cloud drove, eyes forward and jaw set in a look of longstanding fatigue, it couldn't have been just Roxas who'd sensed the tension. Sora might have been distracted enough by his book to have missed it, maybe, but Cloud had looked nothing short of obviously irritable.
Something remained unsettled between them, something Cloud seemed to be holding back on just out and addressing. Whatever it was, he was keeping it to himself, and Roxas wasn't in the right frame of mind to play twenty questions this morning. At least there'd been no further commentary about his purported juvenile delinquency and Cloud was returning to work that evening. Roxas was generally better equipped to deal with his mother, even when he still wasn't in her best graces at present.
He did feel better rested, which was helpful. His physical fatigue must have finally caught up with him, or maybe the chat with Ven had been somehow calming. Either way, once in bed, Roxas had actually slept through to morning and he'd woken feeling like the day just might be manageable for the first time in recent memory.
If only he could've slept through these final two weekdays and just woken up on Saturday. With Hayner still waffling over straightening things out with Olette, and also upset as an added bonus now that he knew Pence and Roxas had kept quiet about her letter to him, Roxas had no interest in engaging with Hayner today over anything. Dealing with Riku was something he was even less keen on.
It'd been easy enough to avoid them both, for the most part. Keeping his head down in his morning classes, he'd let Pence lead the conversation at lunch in a rambling, one-sided discussion about various photography techniques he'd been learning in his weekend class. He'd settled into the highest row of seats on the bleachers during gym, not making so much as a single snide comment after being informed that his health exemption ended the coming Monday, and even made an effective show of note-taking in seventh period, despite only catching about half of what his teacher was saying. Then, freedom, barring any requisite conversations on the car ride home, or possibly a maternal edict to help make dinner while they waited for Sora to get dropped off about an hour later. Even though PT was still postponed due to Sora's injured ankle, his brother'd still insisted on maintaining his usual Thursday routine, which meant Roxas getting picked up on his own by their mom until the terms of his grounding were lifted and he could resume catching rides home with Hayner.
Fine. Whatever.
What Roxas hadn't factored in to his otherwise brilliant plan of stony-faced, all-day avoidance was that Xion might be waiting for him at his locker, toting along the associated relationship obligations he'd been brazenly shirking. Unlike earlier that week, she also didn't seem as willing to swallow the same excuses as to why they hadn't found time to talk privately yet.
"You're grounded, I got that. Been hearing the same line all week, practically before I can get a word in edgewise."
Even when she was upset, Roxas noted with latent admiration how she managed to quickly collect herself so no one else around them would notice.
"But your phone wasn't confiscated. You could've called or sent a text."
As he swapped out his books for the final time that day, Roxas took in a breath and realized dormant admiration had nothing on his rising irritation.
"Is this really something you'd wanna discuss in between classes or even over the phone?"
For a moment, Xion seemed to consider this, eyes lowered, expression slightly pensive as she watched Roxas shoulder his backpack and nudge his locker closed with an elbow through dark lashes.
"No, I suppose not."
Yeah, that's what he'd thought.
With a curt nod and a wave of his hand to indicate the direction he was heading, Roxas began the trek over to the school's front entrance.
Scurrying to keep up, Xion didn't slow until she'd pulled up beside him, skirt still swishing with a quarter second delay in front of her before it settled into a gentle, undulating sway around her ankles as her pace leveled out with each added step.
"I do want to talk about it soon, if possible."
Although he stole a quick glance at her, Roxas didn't know how to respond. Their relationship had always seemed to work best when physicality superseded more verbal forms of communication. Now more than ever, the only thing Roxas wanted to discuss was the prospect of securing a fresh batch of pharmaceuticals before he ran out of his current supply entirely.
Somehow, now didn't seem the best time to broach that subject.
As he held the door open for her and they both exited the school together, Roxas finally spoke.
"Let's meet up this weekend. Less outside distraction and your place'll afford some privacy."
That seemed to mollify her, Roxas noted, based on the relief now cast in her expression. It didn't solve his prescription pill issue even slightly, but one problem at a time, he figured. Maybe he'd luck out and his personal ghosts would for once trend toward patience, although he didn't hold out much genuine hope on that one.
Just as quickly as he'd made the offer to Xion, he felt the other girl's disapproval. It prickled his skin and it grated, pulsed like a toe stubbed against a door frame, an elbow connecting with the corner of a wall, sudden and sharp. Hell, even a broken finger care of a basketball's purposefully aimed trajectory was an apt comparison. Although he sensed neither sight nor sound that was distinctively her, it mattered little. By now, Roxas knew full well when he was being judged, that in this instance he'd fallen short of expectations.
Because this wasn't a way to treat a friend, intimate or otherwise. As he escorted Xion to her car, Roxas allowed himself a moment to acknowledge how much he was treating her as more of a middleman to pill-induced, blissed out ignorance than someone he genuinely cared about.
It was a near certainty that Xion was also aware of this. Up until his untimely grounding this week, she'd approached him in much the same way, even if probably for different reasons. That hardly mattered. The plain truth was they used one another, often in the most physical sense possible, and there was generally nothing romantic about it. Tit for tat. In the past, it'd worked fine for both of them. It was only recently that Roxas had begun questioning the natural order of things in this respect.
Seeing no sign of his mother in the queue of idling vehicles, Roxas kept his thoughts to himself as he followed Xion out into the parking lot and over to her car mid-way down one center row.
As she opened the door, Xion allowed him to take her school bag before lowering herself into the seat behind the steering wheel. Her eyes followed Roxas as he opened the backseat door and deposited her bag on the floor behind her.
"Mama's going to want to prepare a big meal if she knows you'll be coming over. Should I tell her Saturday or Sunday?"
Roxas shrugged. "Sunday's Easter, but I'm fine with either. Text me the details."
Xion glanced up, expression still bordering on skeptical. "And you'll respond this time?"
"Eagle scout's honor." Folding his thumb over his pinkie finger, Roxas raised the three remaining digits on his uninjured hand.
Xion tilted her head toward him and quietly tutted. "Ten bucks says you didn't make it past Cub Scouts."
"Touché."
He heard the word in a deeper voice now almost a week removed, but Roxas matched Xion's rueful smile with an innocent expression of his own. It was true; Ven was the only one who'd made it even close to getting his Eagle, and even that'd been years ago.
"Thought so." The resulting laugh was short-lived, but genuine. "Just make sure to confirm. You'll be disappointing more than just me if you up and decide you're unavailable at the last minute." She pulled the door shut on the heels of her final comment, then twisted the key into the car's ignition.
Stepping back, Roxas watched her roll away from the parking spot. It wasn't until she'd turned the corner onto the main road and driven out of sight that he thought to pull out his cell phone and saw that there was a text from his mother sent a few minutes earlier.
He took a second to read it, then swore under his breath. It was plain enough; the factory had called another two hour mandatory overtime. He needed to find an alternate way home, and it couldn't be Cloud since he wouldn't have time to swing by school, then drop him at home before heading off for his own work shift.
This week was just pitching him one inconvenience after another.
Xion had just left, and Hayner's van was nowhere in sight, so that likely meant he'd already hauled his stubborn ass off campus, probably with Pence. That left walking home with a full load of textbooks he had zero plans on reading, in long sleeves and jeans because he just hadn't seen this scenario coming, or bothered to run his shorts through the wash while awake half the night just a few hours ago.
Forethought, Roxas mused. It was probably worth developing at some point.
Just about the last thing he wanted to do was traipse across town through sweat-inducing humidity in his current set of clothing. Avoiding eye contact with the departing students around him, Roxas traipsed back toward the school's front entrance, feet dragging against potholed, cracked asphalt that school officials should have earmarked into the maintenance budget half a decade ago. There was a pair of shorts in his gym locker that'd offer at least a minor reprieve from the afternoon heat, so the locker room seemed fated to be his next destination.
He was just about to cross the lane that separated parking lot from school sidewalk when he heard the familiar drawl of a man's husky tone from somewhere behind him.
"You're either leaving school during first period, or heading back in after the final bell's already gone silent."
A slow heat that had nothing to do with the weather rose from chest to neck, and Roxas turned, hand above his brow to block the afternoon sun as he scanned the remaining parked vehicles. It didn't take long to spot the familiar off-colored beater of a pickup, even less for his eyes meet the gaze of its grinning driver.
Roxas didn't return the smile, just eyed Axel, who fluttered his fingers out the driver side window and upped the wattage on a smile that was already well on its way toward outright roguish.
"You're an enigma, Roxas Strife, I do declare."
The words were teasing, tone executed with a fine-tuned accent that aped his friends' mothers so well it left no question in Roxas' mind that, at one point, Axel had lived in Radiant Hollow. Or maybe he'd somehow become well-versed in the bayou's distinctive syntax another way.
Yeah, unlikely.
And there it was again, the same question he'd been asking ever since he'd first encountered this perplexing cousin of Kairi's — was this the way Axel spoke to everyone or was the guy keen on mocking him specifically?
He had some choices, one being to ignore Axel and head back into the building to retrieve his gym shorts. There was nothing keeping him outside beyond polite convention, which hardly even applied in this situation anyway. On the flip side, no one was waiting for him at home, beyond ghosts that didn't seemed fussed about timeliness anyway.
Mind made up, Roxas approached the pickup.
But now that he thought of it, and speaking of enigmas…
Fighting the urge to tilt his head in recent mimicry of Xion, Roxas stopped a few feet away and studied Axel. "Aren't you here a little early to be picking up Sora and Kairi? Pretty sure their Thursday routine hasn't changed any."
"Mm."
As Axel turned toward the digital clock readout on the pickup's front dashboard, Roxas copped a glance at the arm now propped up at the elbow on the truck's open window. He'd gotten a good look at it last week on the way to Highwind's, but from a different, interior angle. The lines were more established on Axel's outside bicep, both straight and the occasional criss-cross intersection. In fact, Roxas realized with growing unease, one section looked almost like a number inscribed in one understated Roman numeral in particular.
"Work was slow." As Axel resumed speaking, Roxas forced himself to look up, to keep his expression level and reveal no hint of the pulse now steadily thrumming against the base of his throat. "Just not slow enough to leave with time to go anywhere worth going before coming here. Figured now's as good a time as any to get caught up on some reading."
He flashed a yellowed paperback in his free hand before lowering it out of view and back onto his lap, but Roxas had gotten a good enough glance at it to know it was one of those books where the author's name was displayed in prominent typeface at the top of its cover. He shot Axel a look complete with a raised brow and rounded out with an accompaniment of his own trademark cynicism.
"You into politics or something?"
"Not in the way you're thinking." As Axel flashed a smile that suggested amusement at the question, Roxas shifted his weight from one foot to the other, eyes narrowing. If this openly entertained, hide-the-ball banter was the way Axel liked having conversations, he wasn't in the mood to humor him.
"In this case, Gore's not a surname," Axel continued, "and this little tome happens to be a work of fiction."
He raised the book up again, and Roxas eyed it. The cover was missing some corners, what he could see of the pages frayed in a way that reminded him of the library books Sora had coveted and practically devoured throughout the course of their collective childhood.
Axel had spoken as if that cleared up the matter, but it only served to confuse things further for Roxas since the byline spoke of political failure. Whatever heightened level of smart he'd so briefly felt for recognizing the name quickly disintegrated in the face of Axel's alternate explanation.
"It looks like something my English teacher would assign and make us analyze half to death."
A resounding laugh was not the response he'd been expecting.
"Things sure have changed here if the English teachers would so much as consider assigning queer literature to high school seniors."
Jaw opening, then closing, Roxas found himself at a loss for a proper comeback. The comment had caught him off-guard, and there was no concealing it this time behind a neutral expression or volleyed snide remark. That ship had already sailed, possibly straight-up sunk.
Still grinning, Axel tossed the book across the truck's front dash. "So, what brings you back to Radiant High when you should be a rough estimation of halfway home by now?"
Still flustered from Axel's previous comment, Roxas didn't respond immediately. The guy was just going to change the subject after making a comment that loaded? Seriously?
But Axel was still looking at him, with that arch, self-assured countenance. God damnit.
"Decided to swap jeans for gym shorts. Don't got a ride today," Roxas finally answered. The grammar would've made Sora cringe, might've elicited a look of exasperation from Xion. Unlike the comments he'd aimed at Riku, it was also uttered unconsciously, a nervy verbal slip in the face of someone who didn't fit any mold he was familiar with.
Axel responded with a tilt of his chin, eyes fixing themselves more levelly on Roxas who found it hard not to fidget under their sudden shift in intensity.
"Do you need one?"
"A… ride?" Roxas tried not to bite his lip.
Without a word, Axel inclined his head to confirm.
"Nah." Roxas shook his head more times than was probably necessary. "There won't be enough space."
Without responding, Axel turned away from him, shoulders rounding as he leaned over the gear stick and snapped open the passenger side glove compartment. He straightened with a plastic wrapped pack of cigarettes and a zippo lighter in one hand.
"I meant now." He pressed his thumb over the zippo's guard, and Roxas watched as the action formed a small spark before a stronger flame was established. "There's plenty of time to drop you off before circling back. From where I'm seated, this all seems pretty simple."
"What it seems like is a waste of gas," Roxas returned, to which Axel shrugged before smacking the cigarette pack into an open palm, the sound like a far-off gun shot staccato.
"It's your call." Sliding a cigarette out of the packet, Axel lit up before returning his attention back to Roxas. "You can always find a way to pay me back if the thought of neighborly goodwill just don't sit well."
Not for a second did Roxas think Axel's chosen linguistics were anything other than deliberate. What he couldn't work out was whether it'd been stated in a way that was endearing or meant more to ridicule. The offer itself was another matter. On a week where he'd exhausted just about every available resource, avoiding a walk under the unforgiving, skin prickling sun seemed more a blessing than a curse, no matter who was tendering it.
"Alright, fine."
To Roxas, it felt like a minor concession. Just the same, he was rewarded with a half-smile and a nod toward the truck's passenger side seat. He hopped in without show, dropping his backpack to the dirt-caked floor before reaching for his seatbelt. No way was he earning a second lecture about proper passenger safety in under a week. As he secured the buckle, he snuck a look up, only to see a box-shaped object sailing a lazy arc across from the driver's seat.
Reacting without thinking, he caught the pack of cigarettes. The zippo was airborne and in his hands a breath later.
"I'm guessing you haven't changed your mind about being the smoking type in a mere five-day timeframe, but take one if you want it. If not, box goes in the glove compartment. Likewise with the lighter."
Axel pulled out of his parking space without waiting for a response, angling toward the roadway while Roxas leaned forward and pulled the latch in front of him. There wasn't much stored in the glove compartment, not even the vehicle registration, just a few faded fast food receipts and a truck manual that looked like it was missing more than half its pages. He deposited the box and lighter in a free corner, then snapped the compartment shut with the top of his knee.
Trying to curb the urge to look back over at Axel, Roxas' gaze moved up to the windshield in front of him, finally settling on the book still wedged between glass and dashboard plastic.
Roxas glanced at what he could see of the cover, noting the large print of the author's name in all capital letters before considering the book's title. There didn't seem to be anything compelling about it, certainly nothing sufficiently scandalous to encourage picking it up off a bookshelf or even bothering to skim read the back page summary.
"What's this about anyway?"
As Axel glanced over, cigarette secured in loosely pursed lips, Roxas reached for the book, then held it up to further clarify his question.
"Depends on your interpretation of the themes."
That sounded like the type of bullshit non-answer his English teacher would give. Although Axel had turned back to watch the road, Roxas made a face that more than illustrated how he felt about yet again having his chain pulled.
"Be more specific, how about?"
Axel's hand reached up, and two fingers caught the cigarette before coming to rest on top of the steering wheel.
"Friendship. Masculinity. Tennis, kind of. Queer relationships. The destructive nature of pining for someone you can't have and wasting your life subsequently obsessing over them. That's what I took from it, at any rate."
Roxas froze at the offhand way Axel had said one word in particular, then glanced over at him, his own expression an image of skeptical.
"So, you're reading a book about gays."
Seemingly unfazed by the sharp tone Roxas had adopted, Axel shrugged.
"That's not an inapt summary, if a bit coarsely regurgitated."
Roxas opted to ignore the dig and continue as if Axel hadn't just spoken. "Why?"
As they turned toward Radiant Hollow's downtown sector, Roxas bit his lower lip again and wondered why he was grilling Axel so hard about some stupid book that he didn't give so much as the square root of a fuck about.
It could've been something about the conversation with Ven. While they hadn't defined what they were discussing in as many words, it was the first time Roxas had spoken about something of this sort without tacking on a punchline as the final kicker. But here was Axel, talking with such comfortable casualness. Roxas wasn't there yet, didn't possess the requisite vocabulary to form questions that might elicit the answers he was seeking, about Sora or anyone at this point.
The book, though. As Roxas looked down at it, he realized that maybe, possibly, it just might.
Because he wanted to understand, to wrap his mind around this latest revelation. And if it wasn't possible to get his brother to admit to anything, Roxas figured the next best thing would be coming to his own personal understanding, even if it meant doing a little bit of research on his part.
Unaware of Roxas' thoughts, Axel shifted in his seat and returned the cigarette to his mouth before answering. "Guess I just find it relatable on some level."
Roxas half-snorted, then found his verbal stride. "What, 'cause you're gay or something?"
He was treated to a flash of green as Axel eyed him without turning his head. His smile, though still visible, seemed more restrained than it'd been a few minutes earlier.
"I prefer the term queer, actually."
In response, Roxas near about swallowed his tongue. With Axel's eye still on him, he found himself looking down at the book in his lap and awkwardly coughing, fingers pressing against its tatty cover until his knuckles began to whiten in some unconscious, misdirected attempt to squeeze out answers.
"Seriously?"
The word was posed with more hushed disbelief than the disdain he'd been intending to convey. Out of the corner of his eye, Roxas saw a curl of smoke exhaled out the open car window, noticed an inked tricep flex as Axel twisted the wheel and directed the truck into Roxas' neighborhood.
"Seriously."
Although he had his suspicions about Sora, this was the first time Roxas had encountered someone outright admitting to a sexuality that deviated from the acceptable norm. It'd been a simple response, not at all defensive or apologetic. His gut inclination was to say something snide, even biting. After all, he'd had plenty of practice going at it with Seifer.
This felt different though, and as they turned onto the final stretch of road before home the words caught in his throat, coalesced, and reformed into something wholly disparate.
"What's the difference?" Again, Axel glanced over. When his only response involved a flurry of gently flicked ash into the truck's beveled center tray, Roxas supplemented. "Between saying you're gay or queer, I mean."
In the twenty seconds it took to get from the road's turn-off to the front of his house, Axel remained quiet. He shifted gears, letting the truck idle before finally looking over at Roxas again.
"Look it up, buttercup. I don't get paid to educate, and the internet's a glorious resource, if the rumors are worth their weight."
By now, the ambiguity of Axel's response didn't surprise Roxas. If it was meant to bait, he opted against reacting to it, instead reaching down to retrieve his bag before hopping down from the truck. He skirted around the pickup's front, noting that Axel had slid his seatbelt strap behind one shoulder and leaned forward until both forearms were resting on the window frame.
Now would be the time to thank him for the ride, then turn heel and disappear out of sight. Something about offering an expression of gratitude seemed too much like changing the subject, possibly admitting some form of latent defeat in the exchange that had just taken place. He crossed an arm over his chest, fingers furling over the backpack strap slung over his opposite shoulder as he remained in place a few feet removed from truck and driver.
"Okay." He offered Axel a curt nod. "I'll figure it out myself then."
A ringed plume of smoke rose up between them. By the time it cleared, it was just blue eyes locked on green and the flash of a prominent canine care of Axel's resurgent grin.
"Report back with your findings," he replied. "I wouldn't mind hearing what the world wide web's saying lately on the matter myself."
Then, one small movement, the narrowing of one eye until it shut entirely before reopening, and Roxas' own eyes widened. His cheeks performed an added subordinate act as they flushed, and it was all he could do to maintain eye contact as he nodded again, this time more shyly.
"Good man. I look forward to it."
The words seemed sincere, the expression that followed just as genuine. This time when Axel revved the truck engine and grinned at him, Roxas couldn't say why but nevertheless found himself smiling back with authenticity that was roughly commensurate.