A/N: Much love to all of my lovely readers and reviewers, you are my lifeblood. Sorry for all my hiatuses.


"Roxas! Are you okay?"

"Here, let me feel his forehead."

"Who even was that guy? Oh my god—do you think Roxas is part of the Mafia?"

"Hayner, you're an idiot."

"Roxas, hey, you in there?"

Roxas cracked his eyes open, his head swimming. Naminé removed her hand from his forehead and smiled softly. For a moment, his mind was blank. His eyes swept over the concerned faces, their eyes all trained on him with varying looks of confusion. The rest of his senses slammed back into his body like a semi-truck, electrical impulses rushing all at once. He rechecked the faces and noticed a distinct lack of familiar green eyes and teardrop tattoos. The events from the last five minutes were suddenly washing back over him, the moments that gutted him surging through him, repeating over and over, filling his lungs and making it hard to breathe. He put a hand to his head, squeezing his temples. There was an inexplicable dread spreading through his body and he couldn't stop himself from launching up out of the booth.

"Oh fuck. I have to go. I—dammit. Sorry," he sputtered, his whole demeanor brimming with agitation. He was vaguely aware of his friends calling after him, but his frenzied behavior had gone on autopilot. He ran over to the counter, his momentum causing him to nearly topple over it. He hissed slightly, frowning down at the counter as if it had somehow jumped out in front of him, before pausing to catch his breath. An employee behind the counter looked up, quirking her eyebrow.

"I—uh. Is Axel back there? Can I go see him? It's really imp—"

"Tough luck. Fire crotch balled up his apron and threw it back here." She motioned to it with her foot for emphasis, nudging it as it lay crumpled on the floor. "So," she paused, the gum in her mouth audibly popping, "methinks he's not coming back to finish the rest of Demyx's shift, which he was supposed to be covering." She shrugged, tucking a strand of hair behind her head before it immediately sprung back into place. "Fucking figures."

Roxas's attention momentarily caught on her twin antennae-like strands of hair, spiting gravity as they hung in the hair. Jesus, did everyone working here have some kind of crackpot experimental hair stylist? He shook his head, expelling the thoughts and focusing back on her face. "Do you know where he went?"

She shrugged again, picking up a magazine and flipping through a couple pages with undisguised boredom. "Not my problem."

Roxas groaned, turning towards the door. He was promptly stopped by a gruff hand on his shoulder. The air stilled in his chest. He turned slowly, something akin to hope stirring in his chest. He'd expected to see an angry Axel, looking to sit Roxas down and make him explain shit. He owed Axel that much. Instead—he was met with brown eyes under knitted brows. The air left his lungs like a deflating balloon. Was he really that disappointed to not have to confront his angry boyfriend?

Wait—was Axel his boyfriend?

Well, probably not anymore. Good job, Roxas. You screwed up the one decent relationship that you have ever had. Gold star.

"Roxas—helloo? What is going on with you? You just nearly passed out and now you're running around the coffee shop like a maniac. Are you okay?" Hayner asked.

Roxas couldn't quite look at him, his eyes beginning to unfocus as he stared at the back wall. His eyes flitted over to their table and caught Olette's eyes. She returned his gaze with a somehow more knowing one. It was almost maternal, as if she was asking what do you need? Roxas returned it with a strained gaze—as if to say if you've ever ever cared about me, you would please help me out right now. Please. She reached into her pocket, pulling out her phone.

"Oh fudge. Hayner! I got a text like twenty minutes ago and didn't realize—my mom accidentally forgot to turn the oven off again before she drove downtown. Here, Naminé, we'll stop off at my place to make sure it's not in flames and then I can take you home. Or you can hang out there with us. Hayner, come on. Let's go." Olette called across the room.

He looked at Roxas quizzically again before quickly turning to go back to their table.

Roxas mouthed a quick thank you to Olette before starting into a jog towards the parking lot. He realized how glad he was that he'd driven himself here. It would've been a real fucking pain to trudge back to his friends, somehow bat away their probing questions, and grovel for a ride. But, really, this was going to be painful no matter what. He just hoped it would be over soon.


Roxas stood in front of the small one-story house, eyeing it with much less disdain than before. He chewed at his lip, shifting about in his feet as he warily stared at the wooden door in front of him. He peeked down at the welcome mat beneath his feet. Yeah, welcome, that's how he felt. He reached up, knocking once, twice, three times. He turned and looked at his car, parked in the street. A semblance of a grin tugged at his lips, his imagination filling the empty window spaces with his and Axel's silhouettes. He tugged idly at his hair, hoping to get back to that soon.

He was startled out of his thoughts by the sound of the door opening.

"Hey."

For the second time, Roxas was disappointed by the sight of a blond boy staring back at him. He sighed, trying to put on a polite smile. "Demyx, right? Hi."

Demyx leaned against the doorframe, slurping on a purple popsicle. He started to speak but stopped when he had to catch a piece of the popsicle as it nearly fell to the floor.

"Yup! And you're Roxas." He moved to try to shake Roxas's hand but then looked down at the melting purple mess on his hands. He laughed. "Sorry. Jeez, what a greeting. I should—get a sink. You can come in." He turned around, leaving the door open as he wandered back into the house.

"Zex, Roxas is here!" Demyx called as he toddled off.

Roxas followed slowly, shutting the door behind him. He eyed a couch that was sitting by its lonesome in front of a television set. He walked over, sitting down slowly as he balked at the unfamiliar house, with its pale blue walls and dark wooden floors. Not exactly the kind of space he imagined Axel would live in. As he sat, he noticed how the couch gave way slightly—a familiar sign of a couch put to actual use. He closed his eyes, leaning back. That familiar scent crashed over him all at once—spice and smoke. He inhaled as much of it as possible, feeling a little masochistic as he felt something in his chest squeeze painfully.

"Oh good, you're making yourself at home," Demyx spoke, vaulting haphazardly over the back of the couch and landing next to Roxas. "So—let me guess. Looking for Axel?"

"Yeah." He sighed, expecting the answer before the words were even out of his mouth. "Is he here?"

Demyx shook his head. His mouth turned down slightly as he continued to stare at Roxas.

Roxas stared down at his hands quietly, not saying anything. It was getting harder and harder to be hopeful about this situation. The way that Axel had stormed out—the look in Axel's eyes right before he'd turned away. Cold, hard. Unforgiving. He wasn't sure how much he could take of that moment replaying in his mind.

Demyx tilted his head. "You know…Axel said you were quiet, but he didn't say you were this quiet."

"Sorry," Roxas said, shaking himself from his depressing thoughts. "I just—Axel and I sort of…had a fight. Or we're going to—or something. I don't know." Roxas dragged his hands across his face in exasperation. "I'm an idiot."

"Shit. That sucks. Man, Axel seemed great earlier this morning, he even offered to cover my shift at work—ah damn. I probably have to go in now, don't I?" Demyx said, more to himself than to Roxas.

Roxas stared at him.

"Sorry. Doesn't matter." He said, waving his hand. "I'm sure everything will work out with you two. I mean, what, you didn't cheat on him or anything did you?" He half-joked, quickly sobering when he caught the wide-eyed look Roxas gave him in response.

"No—no. Or—well. Not exactly." He let out another exasperated sigh, fisting his hands in his hair. Axel probably did think Roxas was cheating on him—with a pretty little blue-eyed, blonde-haired girl, at that. And even if he didn't cheat, Roxas was a fake and a liar. He was dirt.

"Aw, Roxas," he spoke, placing a friendly hand on Roxas's shoulder and shaking him lightly. Roxas got the feeling that Demyx wasn't exactly the poster child for personal space, but for some reason he didn't seem to mind. It brought some comfort to his frazzled mind.

"Don't worry, you guys will figure it out. Axel's crazy about you—trust me."

"Yeah?"

The thing in his chest began to beat a little overzealously.

"Yeah. I remember how nervous he was before your guys's first date—and Axel's not a guy who usually gets nervous about stuff. He practically begged me to trade shifts around to make sure I was working that day. Like Axel even needs a wingman," he rolled his eyes, laughing.

Great. Now I feel like even more of an ass. Axel's crazy about me and I fuck it up. I really need to talk to him.

Roxas pulled out his phone, thumbing out a text, wondering why he hadn't thought to text Axel before. He wasn't thinking straight. Wow—that's what got him into this mess in the first place—trying to think straight. And act straight. What a joke.

He stared at the text he'd typed out.

"Axel, if you get this, can you call me? I promise, I can explain everything. We can go somewhere to talk. Please."

He grimaced at how desperate—and guilty—he sounded. But he was desperate. And guilty.

So he clicked send.

Zexion had somehow appeared silently a couple feet away to the left of them. His voice caused Roxas to jump in his seat and nearly drop his phone.

"He took all of his stuff, Demyx."

"What?"

"His toothbrush, that old red blanket, the extra pack of cigarettes he'd bought that was sitting in the kitchen—"

"Damn," Demyx replied, standing up. "Were you here when he did all of that?"

Zexion shrugged. "I was reading in the bedroom. Yeah, I heard him rummaging around—but, I mean, he's always rummaging around. That's not exactly abnormal behavior for him."

Demyx sighed. "Roxas—you know Axel kinda stays wherever, right? He might've just decided to crash somewhere else tonight, to clear his head, y'know?" He reached over again, patting Roxas's knee in an attempt at reassurance.

Roxas looked up in Zexion's direction but he managed to avoid Roxas's eyes. Not exactly a great confirmation.

"You guys think he left, don't you?" Roxas blurted out. "...Like, for real. Out of town. Gone?" Roxas asked, his eyes narrowing and his voice rising in force.

Roxas stood up, suddenly livid. Livid at the idea that Axel would leave him behind. Livid that they would think that. "You think that I pissed him off so bad he had to get the hell out of dodge? Is that it? Listen—I didn't—I mean, I wouldn't—you don't know what fucking happened, okay?"

"Roxas—look, we don't know where Axel is. We'll try to call him, get ahold of him somehow. You should go home and get some rest. You're upset and you need time to think. And so does Axel, probably." He stood up, motioning for Roxas to follow him to the door.

He reached his arms over, hugging Roxas firmly. "Axel cares, Roxas. And I know you care. Don't beat yourself up too much. I'm rooting for you guys." He lowered his voice to a whisper, "I think Zex secretly is too, he's just honestly a teensy bit happy for Axel to be out of our house. Axel and privacy don't really mix."

Roxas nodded numbly. He just yelled at someone who was practically a stranger. He was beating himself up and the people around him.

Roxas waved weakly. He wandered slowly back to his car, the view of the empty car windows now taunting him. He got in, buckling his seatbelt, trying to ignore the distinct feeling of his breaths becoming ragged, trying to ignore the weight of everything threatening to swallow him.

As he rested his forehead against the steering wheel, a deep keening breath turned into a leaden sigh. "Axel, where are you?"