A/N: Since I can't respond to guest comments directly, I thought I'd write a quick note to confirm that I don't plan on abandoning this fic. Life's just been a little hectic in the past half-year or so, hence the slower updates. But I'm hanging in there, and here's proof in the form of another chapter. And thanks to everyone who's taken the time to leave comments. :]
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: SINNER LIKE YOU
"Altar shaking, walls are caving, yeah.
Hold your blessings, I'm confessing, yeah."
"Sinner Like You" - Parson James
The Easter service ended with an emphatic 'amen', and the congregation of Third Baptist Church of Radiant Hollow rose in accomplished unison. While most took their time to stretch after the hour-long service, Roxas vacated his row quickly, under the guise of beating the preordained bathroom lines.
What he actually needed was space, somewhere away from people and the sticky, uncomfortable heat of a church with wall-unit air conditioning, preemptively turned off at the start of the service so the pastor wouldn't have to compete with its thunderous rumbling. Hand in hand with that, Roxas also wanted time to compose himself. It'd been unbearable enough having Axel just a few pews in front of him all service long, hair slicked into submission befitting the religious occasion, arms covered by a long-sleeved button-up the color of charcoal. Free to scan the room at service's end, his eyes had quickly located Roxas, brows rising as the corner of his lips upturned into a half-smile that was by now all-too-familiar.
That's when the heat had increased, an internal, uncontrollable broil that effectively paired with rising distress. It started in his ribs and circulated out until even his fingertips felt possessed. It came with the desire to get as far away as possible, not just from Axel but from every single congregant. Sora. His mom. Just, everyone.
The bathroom offered some relief, and much-needed privacy, at least initially. In the span of thirty short-lived seconds, Roxas was able to loosen the striped tie he'd borrowed from an absent Cloud and splash some tap water onto his face. Then, the prospect of having to contend with others, which he quickly dismissed. Roxas tore a paper towel from the wall dispenser, then exited.
The atrium outside Third Baptist's chapel was quickly filling with people. Despite the humidity, most were in high spirits, talking in animated tones, many smiling. The post-service luncheon was the topic du jour. Roxas considered his fellow congregants from a safe distance as he dried his face, then dropped the towel in a hallway trash bin.
A finger unconsciously slipped under the collar of his hand-me-down Oxford and loosened it further. He unfastened the top button, sucked in a breath of thick air as he caught sight of Pence and Hayner, then a fleeting glimpse of red. The latter prompted a fast exit out a side door, his stomach churning. The sensation followed a hum in both ears. High-pitched and persistent, it reminded Roxas of tattooing instruments, and the quoted words of a night spent looking up dictionary definitions on the Internet, then endless editorials and YouTube videos when that'd proven insufficient.
Queer (adj.): strange, odd.
Right, so, Merriam-Webster had been about as enlightening as someone sharing the unabridged secrets of the universe in medieval English.
There'd also been online commentary, which was almost as mind-numbing. All he wanted was a clear-cut answer to the question Axel had so recently left dangling in front of him.
Queer is a continuing moment, movement, motive—recurrent, eddying, troublant.
If it weren't for the unconventionality of my desires, my mind might never have been forced to reckon with my body.
To be queer is to know tragedy in your bones. It is woven into the fabric of our history.
It was language that was familiar because it was the way Axel usually answered him, in flowing sentences that smacked of smug intellectualism, infused with words that Roxas mostly knew. When taken as a whole, the meaning escaped him. Roxas soon found himself picking at his cuticles and chewing the inside of his mouth at every instance of overblown prose that meant literally nothing to someone stuck on the outside looking in at someone else's bubble of promised optimism. For Roxas, 'it gets better' was just another hollow, leftist vow. It didn't speak to him any more than to anyone else living a handful of interstates and hours away from the nearest real city.
Tables had been set along the side of the building closest to the church kitchen. A deep breath brought with it a whiff of butter, then the smell of fried hushpuppy breading. Feet squishing a path of worn dress shoe imprints, Roxas made his way past chattering congregants in frilly dresses and large Easter bonnets. These were motherly types, those most inclined to greet him with wide smiles, while in the same breath nagging him to mind his crooked tie before lunch started.
He turned around the building corner, then again, this time into an architectural divot. Shallow but wide enough to fit a couple people, it wasn't completely secluded. Nevertheless, it was as close to privacy as Roxas figured he was going to get. People rarely ventured to the church's far side, because it offered a glaring reminder of environmental and financial decline.
The rain had come first. It'd flooded the marshes, then residential yards and town roads. The hurricane was just icing, Third Baptist's roof one among Radiant Hollow's many casualties.
At ten with a family already unraveling at the stitches, Roxas remembered the events in hazy images. At the time, it'd been a relief to get out of school for a few weeks. Traveling north had felt like an adventure rather than the requisite flight to safety.
They'd returned to a town half in shambles, also down one parent. Roxas recalled the year after as one of an absent, overworked mother, plus crowded classrooms at school, single rooms divided in two while the district worked to replace row upon row of waterlogged trailers. He remembered Sunday afternoons spent with Ven, Cloud, and Leon, not old enough to help rebuild the church, but happy to be included for little things, to be handed his very own tool belt so he could pass off supplies to the volunteer carpenters as Sora manned a table that offered a steady supply of sweet tea and homemade snacks.
As Roxas leaned against the church's exterior wall, he closed his eyes and remembered something else: that as time passed and the rest of the country's attention shifted elsewhere, towns like his got conveniently forgotten. Restoration funds dried up, and at three-quarters complete, the church reconstruction efforts had come to an abrupt standstill as Wall Street crumbled. Then, a domino effect, as Almasy Industries laid off nearly half its workforce and reduced overtime hours down to nothing. Who cared about restoring a church when God the Almighty had forsaken them everywhere else in their lives?
People got by. The Strife family was a prime example that the residents of Radiant Hollow were hardy. They were living proof that none of them needed government handouts. The factory eventually started hiring more people, right around the time Cloud finished high school. In the interim, the town's population had shrunk as family after family left in the search of recession-proof work.
Then, it was all over television, claims of a recovering economy that Roxas personally saw no evidence of. Going to college wouldn't change the reality that his town was on the verge of dying. No matter what he majored in, there'd be no jobs for him back home, at least none that needed years of university learning. Wasted money. He could probably manage an entry-level job and work alongside Cloud and his mom, but the whole point of going to college was to break out of the cycle. Roxas doubted any of his closest kin would encourage that outcome.
In that context, Roxas found it hard to take seriously the patronizing advice of East and West Coast bleeding hearts who had time to spend hours online writing flowery articles about the nuances of queer-versus-gay-versus-who-the-hell-knew how many other identities and labels.
Nearby, leaves rustled. A bird chirped, but Roxas didn't open his eyes or otherwise try to search it out. The sound hardly registered. What did was a gentle wind. It was fleeting and felt like feathery fingertips against the side of his neck. The presence that followed was calm this time around. Comforting.
His earlier nerves didn't mix well with this newfound sense of calm, and neither completely canceled out the other. Roxas took in a ragged breath, relaxed, and felt a sudden urge to see the girl. It was rare for her to make an appearance during daylight hours. Opening his mouth instead, he started to whisper an appeal.
Shh, mokin frér. Grief is for those with futures.
Left undiscussed was the matter of hearts, but Roxas supposed he needed no reminding. In some sense, this longstanding suffering was second nature to him. Maybe if he met it with an ounce of acceptance, she'd let him in on a secret to overcome it.
The breeze ebbed, replaced by a rustling swell of winter's dead remnants. This was accompanied by a low hum and the sound of heavy boots moving across the earth in front of him.
"Happy Easter to you and yours. Or Pascha, if you've got a yen for tradition." The resounding drawl forced Roxas' eyes open. From black boots and jeans to a dark gray shirt that Roxas had already spent an hour committing to memory, his eyes traveled up until they caught a teasing smile. "Didn't see that girl of yours so I'll go out on a limb and assume she attends First Baptist."
Roxas watched, nonplussed, as Axel took a step closer and leaned in, voice lowering to a whisper.
"Or maybe she's an atheist."
The tone was conspiratorial, but Roxas said nothing. He stayed still but couldn't quite suppress a scowl.
"Right, right. Not much chance of that in a town like this." Axel adopted a sage expression as he straightened. "By process of elimination, she must come from a family of affluence. Bourgeoisie. Oh Lordy. You sure are dating up the food chain."
There it was again. That heightened, holier-than-thou tone, wrapped like a bow that cost more than gift it came with. Roxas pushed away from the wall. Arms crossing, he forced himself to keep eye contact as his expression turned steely.
Unfazed, Axel slipped a hand into his back pants pocket and pulled out his phone. He flipped it open and pressed the same crunchy button a few times as his eyes scanned the small screen. Roxas made an educated guess that he was checking texts; a phone that old couldn't possibly have a data plan, much less access to even the most rudimentary form of internet.
"Been awhile since I've lasted the whole way through one of them preachy little speeches." Axel kept his eyes on the phone as he spoke, tone casual enough that he could've been discussing the weather forecast. "Forgot how disagreeable pews can be, but I suppose that's the point. Religion's all about admitting your illicit sins, with a fair bit of suffering thrown in for good measure, innit?"
"Then why'd you come?"
Axel hadn't been wrong, but Roxas wasn't about to concede this to someone who acted like he was intellectually above the whole town. His eyes narrowed as Axel's rose. A moment of silent regard passed between them, before he looked back at his phone and shrugged.
"Kairi. Tryna keep things routine." Roxas watched Axel grip his phone with both hands and type on its primeval keypad. "'Course, work don't close for even the holiest of holidays so I had to do some schedule shuffling."
Roxas noted the downward shift in word choice, but whatever interest he had in parsing this was quickly unseated by the reference to Axel's job. In their handful of encounters, Axel had almost never volunteered information without Roxas having to do some subtle rutting around for it. This was new. It felt like a change in some unknown dynamic between them.
"That who you're texting?"
Yesterday's hasty getaway still fresh on his mind, heat began to creep into the sides of Roxas' face. To his ever-abiding relief, Axel didn't look up, just nodded.
"Boss-man agreed to cover a few of my consults. I like starting later in the day anyway." Axel thumbed the phone shut and returned it to his pocket before looking up. "I suppose you already know that."
The heat went from a queasy simmer to an outright boil as Axel grinned and eyed him, all knowing-like.
There were a few different ways Roxas could respond to this, most deflective. But that smile. Even more than serving up a handful of volleyed comebacks, Roxas wanted to run, to get the hell away from anything remotely having to do with Axel and his games of indicative wordplay.
His expression must have revealed something, because Axel's features softened. The hint of provocation retreated, and the response that followed felt more like an offering of peace.
"Demyx said you had some questions, but you ran off before I could answer them."
It took Roxas a few seconds to realize who Axel was talking about before he remembered the guy with the faded name tag and odd guitar. When he did, it was all Roxas could do not to fidget. He just hoped his face didn't reveal the emotions currently wreaking havoc on his empty stomach.
"Had someplace to be."
The answer was weak, considering he'd been in Snipe's a grand total of three minutes. Five if he was feeling generous, or maybe revisionist. Nearby, he could hear the sounds of other people filing out onto church grounds, two of whom he recognized as Sora and their mom. He took this all in, understood that lunch must officially have started, but didn't move an inch from where he was standing.
Because here in this little hideaway corner, it was just Axel looking at Roxas, Roxas looking back, and no question as to which one of them was getting more flustered by the second.
"Well." Axel exhaled, and Roxas mentally filled in the accompanying curl of smoke. "We're both free now. Ask away if you still want."
Roxas entertained the thought that maybe he should. It wasn't like Axel hadn't already figured him out weeks ago, if pointed verbal innuendos were worth even half their market value. All it'd take was a rolled-up shirtsleeve, a single upturned arm. Then maybe he'd have some answers.
That wasn't the real issue. If Roxas was being honest with himself, the tattoo shop stop had been secondary to something far deeper.
But that felt too heavy, too emotionally loaded to admit even semi-publicly. Roxas shook his head.
"I'm good."
He turned, heel squelching into the muddy ground. He had no way of seeing the narrowing of eyes, any more than he could've predicted Axel's lightning-fast reflexes. In a handful of strides, Axel was next to him, arm jutting out to block his path, palm flat against the side of the church, elbow locked directly in front of Roxas.
There was nothing keeping Roxas from ducking under it, but he was stunned and stood rooted, inches from a hunched shoulder as Axel inclined his head and leaned in closer.
"We seem to've started off on the wrong foot, you and I." Compared to the rising tide of conversation one wall over, Axel's voice was low. But he was still close enough that Roxas heard every drawled syllable. "That's on me a little. I'll give you that inch. You can even run with it, if you're feeling vindictive."
These words were just as well-articulated, but Roxas hardly heard them. His eyes were fixed on the movement of Axel's mouth, on the rise and fall of his Adam's apple each time he swallowed.
"Hey." Axel tilted his chin, then offered a smile that revealed the tip of one canine as Roxas blinked the rest of his features back into focus. Now there was no point in trying to calm himself. Axel was too close, his comments of the past week returning in a wordy rush. Each one offered an unspoken dare, and Roxas was nothing if not competitive. "Maybe we should consider starting ov—"
This time, it was Roxas' reflexes that surprised him. It was his own fast action that cut their remaining distance. They were connected before Roxas fully processed what he was doing.
A handful of breathless seconds divided speech from silence as he felt Axel freeze and Roxas waited for the rebuke that he knew must be coming.
But no. A hesitant breath, then Axel shifted and leaned in, returning the gesture. Slowly, he moved his lips, relaxing into the kiss that Roxas had initiated.
Heat pooled in his stomach. It rose to his chest before spreading into his limbs, a nervy, unvetted path of circulation. This time, his discomfort was gone, and all Roxas felt was an intoxicating lightness before he remembered to breathe again.
He had just enough time to identify a subtle hint of peppermint, intermingled with an ashy cigarette grit, before Axel broke away. Roxas dropped his eyes as they separated, unsure where to look now that the heat of the moment had settled. He held his breath again, then waited for Axel to say something—anything—that would give him a sense of whether to relax or start panicking.
Silence was a cruel sovereign that ruled them both. Eventually, Roxas had to look up.
There were no clear answers in Axel's expression, so Roxas looked for clues elsewhere, in the tension of Axel's jaw, evident each time it was released. The lower half of his face relaxed before the action repeated, and Roxas was reminded of the number he'd recently done on the inside of his own lip. Then, Axel's hands. They were stuffed in his jean pockets. His knees were bent, shoulders rounded, head still bowed toward Roxas.
But his eyes. Those eyes told a story. It just wasn't one Roxas understood in unabridged entirety.
Axel's eyes were slitted under heavy lids, each iris dark enough to make it indistinguishable from the corresponding pupil. His customary confidence was gone; left in its wake was this odd, out-of-place uncertainty that made him seem almost vulnerable. It was a look Roxas was unfamiliar with, at least when it came to Axel, one that was far more recognizable when he took his own feelings into account.
This … wasn't something he could've foreseen. Where was the expected irreverence? Why wasn't Axel making his usual suggestive observations? What was the point of mentioning all that sexual identity garbage if he hadn't been intentionally inventing mysteries for Roxas to unravel?
Wetting his lips, Axel looked like he was about to say something. Whatever he had planned would remain a mystery, as a gaudy Easter bonnet and lacy dress materialized behind him.
Roxas took a small step back to get a better view. It didn't take long to identify Kairi, eyes wide, expression an open book of large-print astonishment.
Well, shit.
His own surprise seemed to have tipped Axel off. He craned his neck over one shoulder, took in his cousin, but still said nothing. For once, the guy who had a response for everything seemed to be coming up empty.
"Lunch's started." Kairi's voice was commendably neutral; her features had returned to the typical indifferent she usually reserved for people like Roxas. "Just thought y'all might want to know."
When neither made a move to follow her, Kairi's expression shifted to one of impatience as she fixed her eyes on Axel and shot off a line of Spanish that Roxas was only half able to follow.
Axel answered in the same rapid cadence, something that ninth grade Spanish either hadn't covered or Roxas had long ago forgotten. With a curt nod, Axel moved toward Kairi while Roxas took a few steps out of the space, then paused to give the heat in his cheeks time to subside. As Kairi and Axel neared the corner of the building, Axel slowed, then looked back at him. His smile seemed a little forced.
"See you around, kiddo."
Then he was gone, and Roxas was left to suffer an onslaught of thought after conflicting thought, and a veritable force of emotions, all warring.
o - o
The text arrived on Monday at eleven-thirty, just before lunch. Roxas felt the vibration in his pocket, poked his head around the door of his open locker, then promptly forgot about it the moment he spotted Xion.
She moved through the hallway with dainty steps, weaving her way around peers and underclassmen in her strappy, flat-soled sandals. Roxas closed his locker, tucked his Physics book under one arm, and swallowed hard over the lump that had taken up residence in his throat.
They hadn't talked since Saturday. Even though Roxas had promised to be more responsive, Sunday had just thrown him. He could only handle one life crisis at a time, apparently.
To her credit, Xion didn't immediately reprimand him, and they quickly settled into their usual pace on the way to her locker. She didn't say anything, actually, beyond her standard greeting. It gave Roxas a few moments to compose himself, to make a commendable attempt to remove any lingering images of Axel from his head.
For all his good intentions, his outward façade of indifference was quickly compromised by three words from Xion that coalesced into one single loaded question.
"How was Easter?"
If questions were akin to baseball pitches, hers was little more than a light underhand. Best case scenario, Roxas still epically fouled, pulse pounding as he jerked his head in her direction.
"What about it?"
Xion slowed, then looked over, brow arching under a fringe of dark bangs.
"Did your family go to services?"
Didn't they always?
Roxas resisted the urge to say it out loud. But, seriously, what else would anyone in this town be doing on Resurrection Sunday?
Apart from cheatin' on your girlfriend with your brother's best friend's cousin.
"Yeah," he said instead, hoping the conversations of others around him would downplay the uncharacteristic rise in his own voice. "Just me and Sora and Mom. Not Cloud."
"And…" Roxas tensed but kept quiet, until Xion got the hint and finished her sentence. "…how was it?"
About two questions too late, it occurred to him that this awkward small-talk might be less about Xion trying to get him to confess his existing sins than a way to avoid discussing what'd happened between them on Saturday.
"Long," he finally offered. "And hotter'n hell since they shut off the A/C so people could hear the pastor preaching."
They turned the corner, and Xion headed over to her locker. As she waited for a student to finish digging through the locker below hers, Roxas fidgeted at the prospect of another span of awkward silence, then turned the question back on her.
"How was First Baptist?"
"Ever wonder what happened to the Second?"
Roxas blinked.
"The second what?"
"Church." Xion quirked her head, gaze drifting past him. "There's a First and a Third, but no Second."
Oh. Roxas mulled it over but came up empty. It wasn't something he'd ever bothered considering.
"Anyway, about the opposite. Our new pastor got nervous and forgot half his lines so we got the Holy Revival in Cliff's Notes." Xion stepped in front of her locker as space freed up. "And the central air they installed a few months ago was a bit much. Everyone was all goose-pimpled and shivering by the end of the sermon."
She said something else, words muffled by the metal door, but Roxas' attention had shifted—to a hint of red hair and bare freckled shoulders framing a plaid crop-tie that looked like it'd seen far more of the 90s than Kairi herself.
Taller students soon blocked his view. But it was more than enough for the meager wall Roxas had built between today and yesterday to start crumbling.
Images flickered back to him like a film clip, silent-era but plenty evocative. Moreover, it just kept replaying itself when he least wanted to be thinking about it.
Like all Sunday, while his chest was still tight and sightings of Axel were throwing his thoughts into an incoherent tailspin. Roxas had shoveled a selection of Southern staples onto his plate, only to realize his complete and utter lack of anything resembling an appetite. Sora'd gotten a minor kick out of this. Soon enough, he'd been nagging his brother to eat until Roxas had made a show of stuffing himself well full of red rice and beans.
Axel probably hadn't been avoiding him on purpose, but he'd made himself scarce. The only sign of him after the lunch line had been a quick announcement to Kairi that he'd be waiting at the car, followed by an assurance that he was in no rush and she should take as much time as she wanted.
With Axel out of sight, and Sora and Kairi chatting nonsense beside him while Hayner and Pence juggled conversations with a slew of visiting relatives, Roxas had started fixating on images. Most involved close-ups of a cigarette between two fingers, panning out to an appreciative mouth, pursed lips drawing in breath after breath of a slow nicotine death as the filter glowed red.
All this, then he'd revisit the kiss.
Over and over, until Roxas was convinced he was fated to relive those thirty earth-turning seconds from then 'til the end of his ill-fated existence.
It was a paradox he kept coming back to. Mentally, he'd dismantle even the subtlest of details, then rebuild until it came back to full focus. This had all occurred over the next handful of hours as he'd lounged on the living room couch and Sora read a college-level textbook while his mom watched a steady stream of Fox News talk shows.
At some point Cloud had lumbered in, feet dragging, eyes unfocused after a long work shift. That was when Roxas had sprung up from the couch, making way for his brother who'd wordlessly lowered himself onto his back, arms crossed over his chest, eyes fixed at some indistinct point on the ceiling.
Just as well for Roxas, as he hadn't felt like talking. Citing a need to work on Physics to prep for an upcoming lab, he'd headed up the stairs, then locked his bedroom door and done exactly no studying.
Eventually, he ventured back for food. By that time, Sora was already upstairs actually studying and Cloud had left their mom dozing in a recliner with the television still droning, probably halfway across town to meet up with Leon. Mindful not to disturb his mom, Roxas had grabbed a snack and headed back to his room.
Boredom had segued to authentic fatigue, and for the first time in ages Roxas had fallen asleep without any help from Xion's hand-outs—which was good because he was down to two and Xion still hadn't managed to secure a refill.
It was just too bad a series of suggestive dreams had left him feeling anything but rested.
"What's it like where you are?"
A light elbow nudge pulled him away from his thoughts. Roxas looked over at Xion.
"What?"
Xion offered him a patient look.
"Prom. I thought we could do a couples spa the afternoon before."
"A spa."
Roxas stared at her. Xion just nodded, then turned to her locker to swap textbooks.
"You know. Nails, massages, facials. I think they even offer complimentary teas. Herbal, probably."
Now Roxas was feeling bewildered on top of uncomfortable. He tried to imagine himself with Xion side by side in oversized recliners, cucumbers covering their eyes, feet submerged in tubs of bubbling water.
What had Axel so recently said about him dating up? Regardless, this was well outside his scope of comfort. Actually, it sounded like torture.
"You want us to…" He paused, then tried a different tack. "You're thinking, before Prom…"
Maybe she knew about Axel after all. Maybe this was a subtle way of showing him just how much she could make unfaithful men suffer. How many times had his mom told him Southern women were not to be underestimated—or scorned, for that matter?
Xion swung her locker shut. With a muffled thud, her bag landed on the ground between them. She bent down to organize her belongings, while Roxas swallowed hard and tried desperately to think of a way out of the noose he'd more or less single-handedly fashioned for himself.
He heard the teeth of a metal zipper knit together. Xion drew the bag's fabric strap up onto one shoulder, then locked eyes with him.
"I'm kidding."
He let out a heavy breath as Xion's expression turned saccharine.
A fucking spa. Massages. Christ Almighty.
"Not funny."
He turned in the direction of her next class.
"Oh, it was. A little."
He could hear the smile without having to look down at her. Even worse, he knew he deserved to be the butt of her joke. He wasn't exactly in the running for boyfriend of the year at the moment, even if Xion didn't technically know it.
By the time they arrived at her class, Roxas had compiled a list of pros and cons on the current state of their relationship, from Xion's perspective. His conclusions were two: he didn't come out looking all that great from an objective standpoint, and evidence was building that Xion herself was either an angel or saint for so consistently putting up with him in the first place. Maybe both.
They turned to each other for their usual kiss, but Roxas hedged and kept a safe distance.
"I'll get us Prom tickets at lunch."
For a moment, Xion just looked at him.
"How much for my half?"
"No worries, I've got them." Roxas leaned in and planted a quick kiss on her cheek. It felt awkward, forced. He just hoped Xion wouldn't read too much into it. "See you in seventh."
He was halfway down the hall in a matter of strides, which might've impressed his former track coach. Planning a good-bye wave, Roxas eventually looked back, but Xion had already entered her class.
Just as well. Now he could focus on something else, like hoping against hope the Radiant High student council ticket sellers took credit cards.
The halls began to clear as students entered classrooms. Roxas slowed his pace as he turned a corner. There was no point in rushing when he wasn't feeling all that hungry. His friends could wait, and the less time he had to spend around Riku the better.
One hall from the lunchroom, Roxas found Hayner. He was standing near a row of lockers, shoulders stiff, back to Roxas. Weight transferring from one foot to the other, he looked like he was on the verge of making a run for it, with the right encouragement. Any other day, Roxas might've taken advantage of this. Maybe his own relationship woes had him off his mark. Maybe it was just starting to get old, a game he was tired of constantly playing.
Whatever the case, Roxas had no intention of scaring Hayner as he pulled up behind him.
"Waitin' for someone?"
He spoke at a normal volume. Regardless, Hayner half-jumped.
"Shit! Give me a damn heart attack."
Roxas said nothing and looked at his friend. Just because he hadn't meant to scare Hayner didn't mean he felt like apologizing.
"And um, yeah." Hayner's eyes briefly scanned the hall. "You seen Pence?"
"No, but I wouldn't bet the farm on him being anywhere near Olette's locker."
That did it. Hayner turned on squeaky sneakers and made a beeline for the cafeteria. Roxas sped up to match his pace, even noted the flush at the tips of Hayner's ears, but didn't point it out. Kind of. There was a bounce to his step that Hayner was quick to pick up on. He eyed Roxas, and Roxas looked back without bothering to hide his own smug expression for even a second.
"Oh, shut up."
Roxas raised both hands.
"I said nothing."
They entered the lunchroom, and Hayner exhaled, shoulders still a little high but more relaxed now that they'd put some distance between themselves and the last hall.
"Yeah, well. Stop thinkin' it."
They were on their way to their usual table by way of the hot lunch area. Roxas slowed behind a line of students snaking its way up to a table where members of the student council were selling Prom tickets.
"Go ahead without me." Hayner's brows rose at Roxas' solemn tone. "If I'm not back in fifteen, send help. Or food. No corndogs."
Hayner rolled his eyes before Roxas lost sight of him. Even after, he could still see Pence and Riku off in the distance. Seifer too, with his usual group on the opposite side of the room.
The line moved at a snail's pace, divided by two, multiplied by the nearest whole number to zero. This was almost entirely Selphie's fault since she was flapping her jaw at pretty much everyone from behind the table. Trained insurgents had nothing on her fine-tuned form of social terrorism, Roxas decided after eight minutes and hardly a foot of progress to show for his patience.
Ten minutes in and his hand strayed to his side. It slipped between folds of jean pocket denim, fingers tracing his phone's outline. Roxas wasn't keen on doing much of anything during lunch, including eating. But just standing here was going to lead to daydreaming, and the last thing he needed was to let his guard down with Seifer around.
Besides, clearing his phone notifications might feel good and godly. Maybe Ven would even be around to chat for a few minutes.
He didn't make it past the lock screen. There, a text was waiting. It was a single sentence, under an East Texas area code.
Hey daisy, how's tricks?
The sender hadn't bothered to identify himself, but Roxas also wasn't lost as to guesses. The way his mind rendered text to sound also helped, seamlessly streaming a casual drawl, as if the written tone hadn't already tipped him off.
Daisy. Buttercup. Same diff, as far as Roxas was concerned. Who all had ever referred to him as a flower in this town other than Axel?
Regardless, Roxas texted back a question of identification. A few stomach fluttering seconds later, Axel answered with an image.
As the line moved forward another few steps, Roxas studied the title and cover of yet another yellowed paperback.
There was nothing especially provocative about it, but Roxas felt it wise to change the subject. He wanted an explanation that devolved into a queer lit discussion about as much as Seifer needed a lesson in brash confidence.
At lunch. U?
He watched Hayner pay for his meal and make his way over to their lunch table, before looking back down.
Snipe's. Slow day, hence reading.
As the line inched ever closer to the table, Roxas waited, then wrote and deleted a handful of responses, all dumb.
'Cool' sounded lame. 'Where'd you get my number?' was even worse. Beyond the answer being obvious, it sounded like an accusation. And like hell would an emoji ever grace the screen of his phone's LCD, at least generated by him. Stupid was an understatement of what Roxas thought about those cutesie little images.
While Roxas stalled, another line of text came through. He looked at it, then read it again as his throat tightened and his stomach clenched.
Got any plans for tonight?
Roxas wet his lips and found himself involuntarily remembering Sunday's kiss. That memory was quickly followed by the realization that the cafeteria was just about the last place on Earth he wanted to be thinking about something like this.
He'd also promised Xion a pair of Prom tickets.
Why?
He should've said something else. Text should've given him time to form a response with even an ounce of implied intelligence. But the line was moving, his stomach still a hot mess of nervy fluttering. Plus this was a case of less feeling like more. Safer. One little word was harder to read into than a rambling several.
I'm off at 7. Let's hang out.
The knot solidified, then lodged in his throat.
Can you get to Snipe's?
Face hot, Roxas found himself nodding at precisely no one. He sent off a one-word message of acceptance.
"Hey." He glanced up at another student sporting an impatient look. "Line's moving."
So it was. A couple minutes later, Roxas was finally at the front. He put away his phone, pulled out his wallet, and passed a credit card over to Selphie who was beaming rather conspicuously.
"One for you and Xion?"
Roxas nodded and watched Selphie swipe his card through an iPad extension.
"Is Xion gonna be making her own dress again this year?" When her question garnered nothing more than a small shrug, Selphie kept going. "I think it's just so creative how she makes her own clothing, you know? Real unique. Signature, please!"
She slid the iPad across the table, along with two tickets and his credit card, which Roxas pocketed before leaning forward. He scrawled a few lines that looked vaguely like his name with his index finger, then straightened.
"It's something," he muttered. He moved away from the table before Selphie could say anything else, then paused to consider his options.
Roxas glanced at the nearest clock. He still had some time left, but what little appetite he'd had at the start of the hour was gone now that he had something more important to obsess over.
Mind made up, Roxas turned and made his way out of the lunchroom. Meeting at seven gave him time to take a shower and figure out the car situation, maybe curry a small favor from Cloud if he could stomach sucking up.
After his dramatics on Saturday, he sure as hell wasn't asking Hayner for anything.
He rounded a corner, then turned down another on the way to his locker, wondering how exactly someone dressed for something like this. It wasn't like Axel had said what they'd be doing. All Roxas knew was that it had to be covert, at least until he figured out how to handle the situation with Xion. Thinking about her, then Axel again, Roxas didn't know if the heat he was still feeling meant he was excited or nauseated.
But fifth-period Physics was fast approaching, and he needed to grab his textbook and make a show of at least pretending to pay attention in class.
His phone vibrated again, and Roxas felt another nervous twinge. He slowed and reached into his pocket. Maybe Axel had decided to send more details. 'Hanging out' hadn't really been a lot to go on.
He stopped dead when he saw the text, then reassessed the sensation that'd been with him since Axel had first messaged.
Bring that girl of yours too, dakòr?
It was followed by a winking, plain-text smilie.
Yeah, it was nausea. Definitely.
o - o
The sun still bathed the horizon in soft earth tones by the time Xion pulled her Prius over to a curb a block down from Snipe's. Reds mixed with yellows and a dusting of orange, but Roxas was looking up, eyes fixed on the blues and grays of approaching night.
They'd made the trip from his house to downtown in silence. While Xion had seemed lost in her usual wandering thoughts, Roxas was stewing, his mind racing through scenario after scenario of what was to come. It took most of the journey to finally acknowledge the likelihood that he'd lose what little control he had over entire situation the moment they walked through the shop door and started talking to Axel.
Would Axel tell Xion, or would he make Roxas do it in front of him? Roxas had gone over their texts more than he'd willingly admit, but he was no closer to knowing how this would go down, and Axel had stopped responding hours ago.
If Xion noticed anything amiss, she said nothing, seemed content just to navigate the potholed roads and enjoy the quiet. She took her place by his side once they'd parked the car, hand slipping into his as Roxas began to feel increasingly sick.
What would be the best way to approach this, if Xion had to know at all? It was a question more easily answered than others. If he broke the news first, at least it'd be on his own terms, and he'd have some control over how she got told. That seemed the best option out of a handful of other non-starters.
They crossed the road onto the block of Snipe's storefront. Instead of reaching for the door, Roxas paused under the shop's awning and squeezed Xion's hand.
"Hey, I need to tell you something. About Axel."
Xion's only response was an inquiring, arched eyebrow.
"He was at Easter services yesterday." His throat tightened, but he forced himself to continue. "At Third Baptist."
"Well, Kairi usually goes, doesn't she? Makes sense he'd come with if her daddy isn't around to take her."
"Yeah." That totally wasn't the point. This wouldn't be so hard if he would just grow a pair and spell it out for her. "It's just, Axel and I … I mean, we—"
The door flew open. Roxas jerked his hand out of Xion's and stopped mid-sentence.
"Well, hey!" He turned away from Xion and looked up at Dem's wide smile. "Axel said he'd invited some new friends. Come in, come in."
Before Roxas could say another word, Dem's hand was on his back and he found himself being led through the door. Xion followed a few steps behind, but Roxas hardly noticed as his eyes scanned the room, past someone lounging in a back corner who hadn't looked up, face obscured by a considerable tome of a book. Then, he saw Axel. The room's dim lighting was Roxas' only saving grace, because he was under no illusion about the rising pink making its way into both cheeks as Axel looked up and met his gaze.
"You came."
Axel seemed to have been cleaning up a work area from his perch on a roller stool. A bright, adjustable desk lamp highlighted the planes of his face, and Roxas eyed two long rows of colored ink bottles before looking up again. Axel had already removed one latex glove. Now he was peeling back the second with his free hand.
There was a suggestive quality to the reveal of each inch of Axel's skin that Roxas knew he was probably imagining. It still took him a moment to collect himself before answering.
"I said I was gonna."
One side of Axel's mouth twitched up as he dropped the glove into a nearby trash bin. A beat later, the door flew open and Roxas flinched for the second time in the span of three minutes.
"—should not count as alcohol. Fuck's sake, it's just plain girly."
Apart from Xion, the newcomer was the only other person who qualified as a girl, though not one remotely close to any Roxas had ever encountered at school. Wearing what he was pretty sure was a men's tank top, along with a pair of denim cut-offs, her hair was short-cut, no-fuss. A six-pack of beer was tucked under her arm, and Roxas could see the outline of an unfinished tattoo snaking down one shoulder. It took him another second to remember that she'd been under the shop owner's needle a couple days earlier.
She shot him a disinterested look, then turned back to the man behind her just in time to see his one visible eye rise skyward.
"How's it girly if I'm the one drinking it, exactly?"
Roxas noted the fruity wine cooler held at the man's side but said nothing.
The girl looked primed to say something, but Dem slipped between them. He made a grab for the cooler, then pulled the beer out of the girl's arms.
"How about y'all make nice for long enough to introduce yourselves to Axel's guests."
The girl studied Roxas for what seemed like a purposefully long moment, then shifted her gaze to Xion before sending a skeptical glance back in Dem's direction.
"They look ten."
"Christ sake, Larx, they so don't. Not even close." Dem crouched and stacked the beer on top of the wine cooler, before lifting both as his gaze traveled back to Axel. "Please tell me they aren't."
"We're not." It was Xion who answered. "We're both Radiant High seniors."
"Babies."
Roxas caught a sneer as the girl sauntered past and into the work area, then hopped onto a padded table beside Axel. With an exaggerated huff, Dem shuffled toward the front counter.
"I can think of another 'b' word that applies." He shot the girl a look before turning back to Roxas. "Little help?"
As Roxas moved to push the counter door in on its swinging hinges, he saw Xion reach out to shake the shop owner's hand, which he'd just extended. He introduced himself as Xigbar and Xion obliged with her own name in return. Dem went next, and Roxas filed away the fact that his name was actually two syllables, then the guy reading in the corner. Zexion. Or at least that's what it sounded like from behind the thick book he was reading. He hadn't bothered to lower it.
With a nudge from Demyx, Roxas reluctantly spoke next, then Axel with his usual full-name intro. This elicited a derisive snort from the girl Demyx had called Larx.
"Everyone already knows your name, jackass."
Axel shrugged.
"Maybe I just like saying it."
She rolled her eyes.
"Or hearing the sound of your own voice, more like."
"Anyway, it's your turn,"
Demyx fixed the girl with a pointed look.
Instead of playing ball, she just shook her head, hopped off the table, and sauntered toward a curtain separating another room from the back workspace.
"Gotta take a piss."
Slapping his palms onto his thighs, Axel looked up at the ceiling. Even from a distance, Roxas could see the outline of red liner under the green of his eyes.
Axel sighed, then stood.
"Alright." He glanced at Demyx as he made his way toward a folding table leaning flat against a nearby wall. "You grab one end, I'll get the other?"
Roxas watched as Demyx practically skipped over to Axel. One good thing about this whole situation that Roxas hadn't anticipated: unless he'd completely misjudged, Axel was unlikely to say something that might embarrass Xion in front of others. Roxas was off the hook, at least for now.
"Don't mind Larxene." Behind him, Xigbar was still talking to Xion. "This is her on a good day. Unfortunately."
Demyx wrenched a table leg out with a clang.
"Zex said it's probably because she hangs out around a bunch of men. Something about radical feminism and dismantling the pate…um." He glanced over one shoulder. "What was the word again?"
Zexion didn't look up from his book.
"Patriarchy."
"Yeah. Petri-arc-key."
Demyx enunciated each syllable but still managed to mispronounce it as he aimed a lopsided grin at Roxas.
"Load of armchair psychologist BS," Larxene yelled from the other room. "Seeing as how you're all a bunch of prissy queens."
Once again, Roxas found his cheeks mutinously heating.
"Gay men are, by definition, men, regardless of the way their demeanors are perceived." Zexion sighed through the pages of his book, and Roxas mentally filled in an expression of exasperation to accompany it. "My point stands."
With a wave of his free hand, Demyx beckoned Roxas over before lifting one end of the table. With Axel's help, they got it upright and moved to the center of the room, and Axel soon returned to his stool. Xion retrieved the six-pack from the counter before following Roxas into the workspace. Judging from her lingering smile, Zexion's comment had hit a high note.
She set the drinks on the table, then helped carry over chairs to set around it as Larxene reappeared and made a beeline for the beer. She claimed the chair to Axel's right, raised one of the bottles to her mouth, and bit down. The top popped off in a jerky motion. Larxene held it between her teeth an extra second for effect, then spit it onto the table in front of them.
As Roxas tried to decide whether to look impressed or just cringe, Demyx grabbed a second beer and Xigbar carried over the wine cooler. Axel slipped a hand into his pocket, then tossed a bottle opener attached to a set of car keys into Demyx's outstretched hand.
Placing the opener between the cap and the top of the bottle's neck, Demyx looked over at Roxas.
"Want one?"
"High. School. Seniors."
For the first time since they'd arrived, Zexion lowered his book, and Roxas found himself torn between staring at an audacious blue undercut and features that were far darker than he'd default assumed.
"Oh. Right." Demyx had the good grace to look mildly chastened. "Uh. Tap water, then? I think I saw a Red Bull somewhere in the back too but no guarantee it's cold. It might also be half a decade past its expiration."
Roxas shook his head at the same Xion nodded.
"Water's fine."
Demyx scampered off as Xigbar broke the wine cooler's seal.
"Hey, Dem, bring extra cups."
"On it!"
The sounds of sink water and cabinet slamming mingled with the scraping of metal as Xigbar pulled a chair away from the table and beckoned to Xion.
Roxas took a seat beside her, only realizing after he'd sat that he was directly across from Axel. They looked at each other and time felt like it stopped for a moment, Axel's expression measured, Roxas' teeth finding a tender bit of flesh on the inside of his mouth to grind against.
Their gazes skittered away when Demyx returned with an armful of cups. He set the water down in front of Xion, then rolled the rest of the cups across the table. While Xigbar went to work filling his with fizzy pink liquid, Roxas folded his hands into his lap, then began to crack his knuckles in tandem.
"So." Demyx took a swig of his beer, then twirled Axel's key ring around one finger. "Who's got the dice?"
It was Larxene who reached into a pocket of her cut-offs and rolled three across the table. They came to a stop near Roxas, who took a moment to note the crude markings on them.
Larxene caught him looking.
"Carved them myself."
She shot him a fiendish grin, then mimed an action that seemed closer to stabbing.
Demyx looked far less unsettled by Larxene than Roxas felt.
"And the chips?"
"You had 'em last."
"Did not!"
Larxene shrugged. She clearly didn't see this as her problem.
"Well, now how're we gonna play?" Demyx actually pouted before taking a seat on the other side of Axel. "Talk about dropping the ball."
"Coins, obviously." This was Zexion. Closing his book over an index finger to hold his place, he stood and made his way over to them, then sat down next to Demyx. "Assuming we have enough."
Demyx was already rummaging through the contents of his pockets. He deposited literal fistfuls of items on the table in front of him. It amounted to a small pile of pennies, dimes, and nickels, one quarter, a frayed fabric wallet, and a single Trojan. It took a light smack from Axel for him to swipe up the condom.
"Sorry." He offered Roxas and Xion a penitent smile. "Not like y'all haven't been through sex ed class already though."
"Subtle."
Larxene snickered at Zexion's long-suffering look, then made a face of thorough disgust when Demyx just grinned, leaned over, and planted a kiss on Zexion's cheek.
"You like it."
"That has yet to be confirmed by an unbiased source."
Zexion's expression remained level, but Roxas could hear the affection in his tone. It took a waggling set of eyebrows and a pair of entwined fingers before Roxas realized he was gawking at the two of them.
He looked down and cleared his throat. It was Xion who posed the question he'd not-so-covertly been wondering.
"Are y'all two a couple?"
Demyx's nod was zeal personified.
"Going on two years." As Demyx started to ramble a steady stream of personal information, Roxas saw Axel and Xigbar pull out wallets and contribute their own loose change to the growing pile. "Met in the library at LSU about a week before I dropped out."
At this, Roxas looked up.
"You dropped out? Of college?"
Another vigorous nod implied this was something Demyx was proud of.
"To pursue my true calling." He said this like it was self-explanatory but still proceeded to clarify. "Music. Obviously."
"Obviously." To Zexion's credit, he didn't roll his eyes, or sigh. "This didn't go over well with his parents."
Demyx let out a dramatic breath.
"They have no appreciation for the arts. So, I moved in with my grandma, back to little ol' Radiant Hollow and got myself a steady job." He beamed at Xigbar. "Thanks a bundle."
Roxas was having a harder time wrapping his head around this information than the other stuff.
"Your grandma was okay with that?"
"Uh, kind of? Not really."
As Demyx waffled, Larxene stood and made her way to a wall cabinet. She returned with a lighter and a small, multi-colored object that looked like a glass pipe. Without looking up, she lit its contents, then brought one end to her lips before passing it to Axel. It took Roxas a second to recognize the sickly-sweet smell of pot. By then, the pipe had moved to Demyx.
"So she's not amenable to you pursuing a career in music?"
Xion's tone was polite, conversational. Roxas watched Zexion wave the pipe off. Demyx offered it across the table next in a wide-sweeping gesture. When no one reached for it, he shrugged and set it on the table.
"Dunno, to be honest. She's balls-deep in Alzheimer's. Barely leaves the house or remembers I'm not my father."
"This works out ideally for us." Zexion cut in as his gaze flickered briefly to Demyx. "His family would undoubtedly not be supportive."
As Roxas tried to decide whether Zexion was talking about relationships, race, or music, Xigbar stood and ambled his way toward the counter. By the time he returned, a country song was filtering through a couple of overhead speakers. It said something about how distracted Roxas was by this latest topic of conversation that he hardly noticed.
"I think we've got enough coins. This'll work." Demyx studied the table and nodded to himself before looking up at Roxas and Xion. "Y'all are eighteen, right? Wouldn't wanna corrupt any minors by letting them gamble, or whatever."
Demyx was already looking down and sifting through his wallet by the time they both nodded.
"We usually just play with ones," he said as he pulled a thin wad of paper money out of the billfold. "Not the highest of stakes, but it's still fun and usually buys dinner for the winner."
Roxas already knew his wallet was empty. It was Xion who was reaching down to retrieve a few dollars from her oversized purse. Following Demyx's lead, Axel, Larxene, and Xigbar each placed a bill into the center of the table while Zexion leaned forward and began handing out coins.
"Ignore their sizes and values. For the purposes of this game, each coin is equal."
Demyx reached out and rubbed Zexion's back through his shirt. Roxas tried not to be as obvious as he studied them.
"Hey, babe, does this mean you're playing?"
Zexion shook his head.
"You know how much I dislike games of chance. Strategizing is pointless."
Demyx looked momentarily disappointed before his smile returned.
"Oh, alright. You'll be on my team, then! If I win, you can share my Big Mac."
"Fine." Zexion finished dividing up the coins, then sat back and reached for his book. "As long as I can still read."
"Sure, sure." Demyx's grin was comically wide, his eyes stoner-unfocused. "Youngest rolls first. I'll explain how this works as we go if this is your first time."
Xion stood and retrieved the three dice, but Roxas was studying the sepia-toned cover of the book Zexion was reading. From his place at the table, he could see the title, which was more lyrical than detailed. It reminded him of the title of the book he'd questioned Axel about. This time, he wasn't as eager to ask Zexion to explain its contents. He definitely didn't need another emotional aneurysm if it happened to be about something controversial.
Xion clasped her hands together, shook the dice, then rolled. Two came to a stop displaying black dots, the other an R that looked like it'd been applied in sharpie.
"Okay! So, dots mean you keep your chips. Coins. Same diff. R means you pass one to the person on your right." Dutifully, Xion moved a penny to Demyx's own pile as Demyx grinned and pointed at Roxas. "You next, mio amigo."
As Roxas leaned forward, he found himself stealing a look at Axel and realized Axel was watching him back, eyes half-lidded, lips just a little apart. He held Roxas' gaze but his next comment was directed at Demyx.
"Whoever taught you Spanish should be summarily shot."
Demyx just giggled. In an effort to distract himself from seeing a grown man act like a teenage girl, Roxas rolled the dice.
R, L, L.
Roxas passed a coin over to Xion, pushed two nickels into Xigbar's pile on his left, then looked across the table to confirm he'd done it correctly.
Demyx just grinned his increasingly stupid grin before changing subjects.
"No offense, but you suck at this."
Beside him, Zexion sighed through the spine of his book.
"There is literally no strategy involved in this. It's all luck."
"Well, he could learn to roll better."
Demyx's tone was defensive but he was still smiling.
"Sometimes it's nice to play something mindless." It was the first time Xigbar had spoken since requesting the cups. He leaned forward to retrieve the dice, then shook them in a closed fist, expression thoughtful. "Sure as hell beats dodging bullets and eating months-worth of military food."
Demyx had nothing to say to this, and the game continued, first with Xigbar's roll, then Larxene's before making its way to Axel. By the time the dice came back to Roxas, he'd learned that rolling a C meant throwing a coin into the pile of dollar bills at the table's center, and that losing all your coins didn't necessarily mean you were out of the game if someone next to you rolled a letter that returned some.
The dice made another circuit in silence, punctuated only by Demyx's non-verbal reactions. By round three, Roxas' thoughts had started wandering. By the fourth, his eyes. They traveled across the table after his last roll and found Axel's fingers just as they curled around the pot pipe. He rubbed its thin, glass neck like it was the length of a cigarette, then repeated the motion. Again and again, it was a slow, deliberate rhythm that made Roxas' thighs clench, and his throat feel thick. It seemed like an unconscious action; regardless, that didn't change how Roxas was reacting it.
He thought it'd be a relief when they started talking again, and it just might've if it hadn't been the specific question Demyx decided to ask.
"So, how'd y'all meet our resident pyro-slash-artist?"
Roxas glanced up, then looked away the moment his gaze met Axel's, but not before seeing a small smile. He swallowed over the knot in his throat in a failing attempt to combat dry-mouth.
"He was at St. Bastion's the same night we were," Xion said. "And he drives Kairi to and from school so we also see him sometimes then."
If she had stopped there, Demyx probably would've been satisfied. As Roxas' luck would have it though, Xion was acting unusually chatty.
"He also seems to know Roxas' brother."
"Oh yeah?"
Demyx rolled the dice, flicked a penny into the center pile, then sat up and looked at Roxas. But Roxas only had eyes for Axel, who'd abandoned the pipe to lean back, arms now crossed loosely over his chest, tattoos on full display from wrist to mid-bicep.
"Mm-hmm."
Axel lapsed into silence as Xion rolled the dice. He said nothing as Roxas took his turn, resulting in the loss of his final coin. He remained silent through the next two rolls. It was only when he leaned forward to retrieve the dice for his own turn that he decided to drop a bombshell.
"Cloud Strife ring any of your bells?"
Demyx's eyes widened. They darted to Axel, then settled back on Roxas with renewed interest.
"No shit?"
Axel shook his head, tossed the dice, and got three dots.
"None whatsoever."
"Damn. If that isn't ever a blast from the distant past…" Demyx ran a hand through his hair as Xion nudged the dice back toward him. "He still hang around with Squall Leonhart?"
"Leon," Roxas automatically corrected. "Yeah."
"Not a shocker." With a twist of his wrist, Demyx promptly lost his last dime. "If those two weren't such athlete-beefcakes, people probably would've accused them of being boyfriends."
As Xion took her next turn, Roxas felt himself tense. It was one thing for him to give Cloud crap about his close ties to Leon, quite another to have a veritable stranger do it. By now it seemed clear that at least some of Axel's friends had gone to school at the same time as his brother. As a natural consequence, Roxas expected Demyx to say something about Zack next.
He hadn't anticipated Larxene. Up until now, she'd been mostly quiet, sneering at some topics but generally content to play around on her phone, roll the dice once in awhile, and ignore them.
Now she was scooting her chair closer to Axel. She elbowed him none too gently.
"That would've been a real irony."
Roxas watched as Axel briefly grimaced. He held his breath, wondering if Axel might finally offer more details about exactly how he knew Cloud.
Axel pursed his lips, but didn't speak. It was Demyx who ultimately broke the silence.
"Well, the past's the past, so no point in lookin' back, right?" When no one said anything, Demyx kept going. "And today's a gift, which is why it's called the—"
"Demyx." He paused to look at Larxene who shot him a sweet smile that was altogether contrary to her threatening tone. "Finish that sentence, and I'll fucking end you."
"She's kidding." Demyx directed a glazed look at Xion who was beginning to look unsettled. "I think."
"I wouldn't bet money on it," Zexion said, book lowering slightly as his eyes scanned the table, "considering you're on the verge of losing."
So much for that Big Mac.
A quick survey of the table showed Xion was winning, and by a decent margin. Demyx and Axel were both out of coins, Roxas and Larxene had just one left apiece, and Xigbar was down to two. Another roll had Roxas giving Xion his last nickel. Larxene got a penny back from Xigbar, then promptly lost it to the center on her next roll. A few more rounds, and Xion was victorious.
She collected the bills as Demyx launched into a mock lamentation about a newbie winning the pot, then vowed to win his dollar back.
"Play again?"
So they did.
The win seemed to have bolstered Xion. Throughout rounds two (won by Larxene, much to Demyx's vocal displeasure) and three (Xigbar), she joined in various conversations, tried a sip of Xigbar's wine cooler, even briefly engaged Zexion by asking about his book, which ended up not being queer lit after all.
Throughout this, Roxas mostly kept quiet, thoughts drifting along the notes of twangy background music. Once in awhile, he'd steal a glance at Axel, but he was no longer on edge about Sunday. He seemed to have been granted a reprieve from telling Xion, if only temporarily.
It was inching toward ten by the time Xion turned to him.
"We should probably think about heading home."
"Aww. But it's still early."
Demyx looked genuinely disappointed. Larxene just rolled her eyes.
"What'd I say? Babies."
"School just starts early."
The words were out before Roxas could stop himself and only served to reinforce Larxene's point.
Larxene smirked, and Roxas couldn't decide if the subsequent 'b' word he was now considering applied to hindsight or just her.
"Well, it's been fun," Demyx said, the words rushed, possibly to get in front of any blossoming argument between Larxene and Roxas. "The more people the better for games like this. And, you know, it's nice to meet new people just in general."
Larxene scoffed and said something under her breath before taking a final swig of her beer while Demyx cleared coins and assorted debris off the table and Axel helped Xigbar start folding up chairs. Roxas waited just long enough for Xion to grab her purse before making his way toward the front of the shop.
"Hey, got any plans this weekend?"
Xion paused by the counter, then turned. Roxas merely looked over his shoulder.
His muttered reply of 'yeah' was undermined by a well-articulated 'no' from Xion.
Roxas looked at Xion, and Xion looked back, expression set. Propping his elbows on the counter, Demyx just grinned.
"We're heading to the Gulf for a couple days. Y'all should think about coming."
"Dem, I don't think—"
"What? They're eighteen." Demyx glanced back at Axel who was balancing the table on its side and looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable. Demyx looked back at both of them, until Xion nodded. He shot Axel a satisfied smile. "See? Adults. Legally speaking, at least."
While Demyx defended his invite against another one of Larxene's insult-laden follow-ups, Roxas stole a glance at Axel. He'd regained his composure in record time, so there wasn't much to see. But he'd been caught off-guard for a moment and the expression was familiar. It reminded Roxas of Sunday.
It was like a window, curtains briefly open, then hurriedly drawn back together before much sense could be made of the view.
"… the 10 to Lafayette, then head south …"
As Demyx listed off the trip's itinerary, Roxas considered the possibility of actually going.
"… turn off at Bayou Vista, make a quick pitstop to drop Xig at …"
A weekend around Axel. Time to figure things out. Maybe.
"And y'all'll be back by Monday?"
Roxas glanced over at his girlfriend.
A weekend with Axel and Xion. With plenty of time for secrets to surface.
"We're busy."
Xion turned to look at him square on.
"With what?"
"Homework." In his head, Roxas silently implored her to accept the lie and run with it like she usually did. "And other stuff."
"So bring your books with. That's what I'd do." For once, Xion didn't seem inclined to humor him. Her voice was calm, tone leaving no room for argument. "And last I heard, Cloud's got work and Sora's off to the city with Riku and Kairi."
Damn her for being so rational sometimes.
"My mom …"
"… could probably use a break for one full weekend." Xion smiled sweetly. "Don't you think?"
Yeah, actually.
He wanted to argue more, or just flat-out refuse, but he had an idea of how needlessly combative that'd look in front of the others.
"We're leaving Friday, coming back Sunday. Zex has to head back to LSU for some thesis advisor meeting thingy on Monday." Demyx's grin still lingered, but he had managed to dial it down a notch as he rattled off the details. Xigbar made his way up to the counter and Demyx looked over. "What time're we leaving again?"
"Was planning to close up around noon after a few morning consults." The relief Roxas felt was short-lived as Xigbar glanced over at the two of them. "We could push it back a couple hours."
"Or you could skip." As he beckoned Demyx over to help him move the table back against the wall, Axel's tone was casual. Almost teasing. "At least one of you seems to have a predisposition for it."
The comment got him a smack on the shoulder from Demyx.
"He's kidding!" He paused to study Axel's knowing look. "I think."
"Well, I think it sounds like fun." Xion fixed Roxas with a look of her own. "A nice change of pace."
Ugh, alright.
His expression said it all. With a delighted smile, Xion turned back to the others.
"When and where should we meet?"
"I can give you my number."
Demyx was already reaching into his pocket when Xion waved him off. She hooked her arm around Roxas' and started to coax him toward the door.
"We've already got Axel's. He can text my boy the details."
They were out the door before Roxas could say another word. Xion led the way to the car with a satisfied smile and a noticeable bounce in her step.
Well, Roxas thought. At least one of them was leaving with something they wanted.