Chapter Twenty-Four
Summer is really Axel's season. As July continues, we rarely remain in the house. He's constantly taking me to movies, plays, parties, shopping, and, because I insist, the beach. When we are at the house, most of our time is spent in his bedroom.
I'm laying on my stomach in post-coital bliss on his bed in late July. The balcony doors are thrown open, and a light breeze is giving me goose bumps. Axel's fingers are lightly running along my back. There's a palette of paint next to him, and my body is being used as his canvas. I turn my head to peek at him from the corner of my eye and can tell he's really focused on whatever he's painting on my skin. The breeze is gently ruffling his hair. I smile.
"Axel," I say softly, not wanting to startle him. Apparently, he's more present than I thought.
"Yeah, babe?" He replies without breaking his concentration. I smile a little wider.
"What're we going to do tonight?"
"Umm, I was thinking about us going to a party at Xigbar's place. Are you cool with that?"
"Sure. I'll obviously have to take a shower first," I mutter. I see a grin lift up the corners of his mouth. Suddenly, he reaches up and swipes a paint covered finger across my cheek. I jump, startled, before smiling.
"Then let's make that shower worthwhile and get you really dirty," he says. I sit up, dip my fingers in the paints and run them messily down his naked torso. A look of surprise crosses his face before he leaps on top of me. I shriek. "Axel! You're going to get wet paint on your sheets!" He shrugs, a grin still igniting his face.
"I have more," he answers, tapping his fingers along my arms and stomach. My smile returns, and I reach up to splatter paint all over his face. He grabs my wrists and pins them to the mattress. He kisses the wet paint on my cheek before peppering the rest of my face with paint and kisses. I playfully thrash for a minute, my hair flying and getting paint in it too, no doubt.
"Axel!" I laugh. "Not fair!"
"Exactly," he laughs back. He suddenly plants a kiss on my lips. It's not a playful kiss, though; it's full of passion. I reciprocate. After a few seconds, he pulls back, and his eyes are hazy.
"You know," I say suggestively. "You could always get me dirtier without the paint." He grins lazily.
"With pleasure," he answers before bringing his lips back down to mine.
I pad my way down the hall. I'm covered in paint and wrapped in an equally paint-splattered sheet. I'm almost to the bathroom when Renton comes out of another room. We both stop and stare at each other for a moment.
"H-Hi, Renton," I say awkwardly, a blush creeping onto my face.
"Iris," he says equally awkward.
"I…I'm just h-heading for the shower," I explain. He nods.
"That's probably for the best," he mumbles. I smile a little before quickly making my way past him.
"Iris," he suddenly calls when I'm almost to the bathroom. I turn just slightly toward him.
"Yeah?" I respond. He grins widely.
"I'm going to need to change the bedding in his room, aren't I?" he asks. My face turns tomato red.
"That'd p-probably be a good i-idea," I stammer before hurrying into the bathroom. I hear his soft laughter in the hallway, and I can't help but to giggle a little too.
"Everyone's going to know," I mumble angrily when we're on our way to Xigbar's a few hours later. Axel chuckles and slings an arm around my shoulders. Neither of us were able to get all of the paint out of our hair.
"Nah. They'll just think we were painting before we came…which is actually pretty accurate in multiple ways," Axel says, obviously enjoying his little joke. I roll my eyes.
"Oh, hee hee ha ha," I mutter sarcastically, crossing my arms moodily. Axel laughs again, and the car slowly comes to a stop.
"Lighten up and put a smile on that pretty face; we're here," he says. I groan while getting out of the car, nervously running a hand through my hair. I had hoped giving it curls and waves would hide the streaks of color in it, but I was very wrong. If anything, it made the paint stand out more.
"Ax! Good to see ya, dude," Xigbar calls as we walk into his house. I can tell from his face he's already a little tipsy.
"Hey, Xig. How's it going?" Axel replies while taking a beer from Xigbar's fridge.
"Awesome, man. Just awesome. I'm feeling good tonight," he says, grinning. He looks over at me suddenly, and it's like he's just noticing my presence. "Iris! How's this asshole treatin' ya?" he asks loudly while throwing an arm around my shoulders. Before I can answer, his hand takes hold of a piece of my hair. He glances from it to Axel's and grins. "Ah! Axel, you dog! Getting busy in that studio of yours, huh?" Axel grins and I pale. Xigbar laughs at my expression and pats my shoulder. "Good for you, kid. Help yourselves to anything you want. Have a good time! Bonfiring it up at eleven!" he finishes before walking away.
"I told you someone would notice," I mumble before snatching Axel's beer from him and taking a long drink. He frowns.
"That's mine," he says.
"It was yours," I reply with a wicked grin. He returns the expression before grabbing a new beer.
"I'll let you get away with it this time," he says.
"Oh, don't lie. You'll let me get away with it every time," I reply.
"And what makes you think that?" he asks.
"Because you loooooove me," I say in a sing-songy voice. He smiles widely, leans down, and kisses my cheek.
"Too true."
The music is too loud, and my head is too foggy. I look around the circle of people, firelight dancing across everyone's faces. For a number of the people surrounding the fire, though, the fire dancing in their eyes is the only light within them. It's almost surprising, the difference between the owners and servants. Everyone may be well dressed and groomed, but there's a definite distinction between the two groups. The faces of the servants are blank, expressionless. A few of them smile at the jokes being told, but none of those smiles reach their eyes. Their eyes are haunting. They all seem to be staring far off as if they're trying to figure out how their lives took such a dramatic turn. It's upsetting me. It's as though I'm surrounded by zombies; they're moving and breathing, but none of them are really alive. Their owners, though, they're all laughing and smiling and talking drunkenly. They don't have a care in the world, and it's like they can't see the dead young men and women sitting next to them. Maybe they can't.
My hands are shaking when I lock eyes with a girl across from me. Her dead eyes stare into my lit ones, and I see something flicker across them. I'm taken aback when I realize the emotion in them is hatred. This girl…this girl I don't even know is staring at me as though she'd like nothing more than to kill me, and I can't understand why.
"Axel," I whisper, tearing my eyes away from the girl and tugging his sleeve.
"Yeah?" he asks. He's smiling with a lazy, drunken look about him and I realize he can't see the zombies around him either. He's just like his friends. This might be what bothers me the most.
"I-I want to go home. Can we go home now? Please?" I ask, my voice catching. His smile falls and he looks concerned.
"Sure. You okay? You feel sick or something?" he asks while getting to his feet. I take his outstretched hand and let him pull me up. As I take a step away from the circle, I look back at the girl. She's still staring at me with that unwavering hatred, and I feel like crying.
"Very," I answer without looking away.
That night, every boy and girl I've met since being brought into the slave market visits me in my sleep.
All of them are transparent and have the same expressionless, dead eyes as the people at the party. They all circle me, and their eyes change to that look of hatred.
"This is all your fault," they hiss.
"Your family was too weak to prevent being overthrown."
"You couldn't save them."
"You couldn't save us."
"You couldn't even save yourself." Their words ring in my ears. I try clasping my hands over my ears, but I can still hear them berating me.
"What a pathetic excuse of a royal family."
"Look at you. You practically became his pet."
"You're a disgrace." Tears fall from my eyes. They're too loud, too close; there's too many of them. I feel like I'm suffocating.
Suddenly, Roxas steps from the ghostly crowd. He's just as transparent as the rest, but the bloodied bruise around his neck is easy to see. His eyes are bulbous and there's a trickle of blood running from his mouth.
"Why didn't you stop me, Iris? You knew what I was doing. You were right there. You could've stopped me, but you just let me kill myself. Why would you do that, Iris?" he asks sadly.
"I thought that's what you wanted!" I cry hysterically.
"I just wanted someone to care," he says before fading away.
"I'm sorry!" I scream. All the other apparitions begin to fade as well. "I'm sorry!" I scream after them, but no one seems to hear me. "I'm sorry!" I scream louder, needing one, just one, of them to come back and forgive me.
None do.