Roxas wasn't sure why he had told them that he was gay. He guessed that such a frazzled state of mind led to lowered cerebral defenses—not that he really had any to begin with. Besides, he'd felt like he'd owed Sora something. He sighed.

Somewhere deep down in the recesses of his mind, he knew that he didn't want to be gay. But he didn't really have much of a say, did he? That's what had been going on this whole time. His brain, his heart, his stomach. They all pointed toward Axel, Axel, Axel. It almost made him feel ill how easy it was—for Roxas to fall. Even when he dug in his heels to anchor himself to something, anything. He continued to be dragged further and further.

Why didn't he want to be gay?He thought about it as he pulled open a package of peanut butter crackers. Something was gnawing at his stomach as he chewed on the idea. He felt—lightheaded? It was probably nothing so he tried to shake it off, receding back into his thoughts. There was nothing wrong with being gay. He knew that.

Hissing as a second wave of dizziness overcame him, he braced himself against the table. He closed his eyes and attempted to breathe slowly. He forced himself to eat a peanut butter cracker, then a second. His blood sugar was probably just low. It's not like he wasn't used to this. He'd been forgetting to eat a lot the past few days.

He winced, pressing his palms resolutely into the table to anchor himself as his stomach lurched. He slid down the chair onto the floor, sprawling himself out onto the cold kitchen tile. He closed his eyes, trying to quell the turbulence overcoming his body. His face felt hot. With some effort, he managed to push his legs up onto the kitchen chair he'd just evacuated in order to keep his legs elevated above his heart—he had a vague understanding of the medical concept. He focused on breathing deeply and evenly. He drifted off.

Roxas skipped into the house.

"Someone's looking chipper today. Did you have a good day at school?"

Roxas nodded enthusiastically. His mom raised her eyebrows with curiosity. She crouched down with a grin to ruffle Roxas's hair. He giggled in response. "Oh really? Why don't you go set your backpack down and then you can tell me all about it?"

Roxas all but pitched his backpack down, nearly bubbling over with excitement. "Someone at school left me a note in my cubby!"

Roxas's mom, still listening, walked to the pantry to grab some crackers and a jar of peanut butter. "Oh? And who was that?" She pulled two spoons off the drying rack and Roxas darted over, using all of his limbs to scale the kitchen chair. He plucked his spoon out of her hands with greedy fingers.

Roxas shrugged his shoulders at her in response. He bit into his cracker—topped with a disproportionately large glob of peanut butter.

"Hmmm," she said. "Do you still have the note?"

Roxas nodded vigorously. "In my backpack. I'm gonna keep it forever."

His mom got up, walking over to the backpack Roxas had left strewn across the floor. Roxas heard the sound of his backpack being unzipped. He smiled giddily again at the thought of the note, placing the peanut butter filled spoon backwards against his tongue.

"Looks like someone has an admirer," his mom said, a smile on her lips as she pulled the envelope open. She revealed a heart-covered note, with two stick figures holding hands in the center. She admired it with another soft smile before handing it to Roxas. He gladly grabbed it, running his hands across the pink and red crayon lines with awe.

"Are you sure you don't know which girl gave you this? Maybe I ought to help you make a thank-you card."

Roxas broke into giggles.

"What's so funny? Are you keeping a secret from me?" She said, placing her hands on her hips in a playfully stern stance.

"Maybe," Roxas said.

"Don't make me have to tickle the truth out of you," his mom said.

Roxas squealed, running away in a fit of giggles, but his mom quickly caught up with him in the living room. She picked him up, tickling his foot. He laughed. "Moooomm. That tickles! Okay, okay!"

"Alright, silly boy. Spill the beans," she said, setting him down right-side-up onto the couch.

He nodded, catching his breath.

"Well? What's her name, huh?"

Roxas burst into fits again. "You're silly, mommy. A boy left it for me." It was pretty obvious to Roxas that those were two boy stick figures. Girls were drawn with long hair and triangle skirts—like on the bathroom signs.

Roxas's mom blinked at him. She stood slowly, her back going uncharacteristically straight. "I see. Listen sweetie, I'm gonna take your note for a while, okay?"

"No!" Roxas wailed. "That's mine, momma! Don't!" He could hear the wretched ripping sound. It echoed the rift forming deep in his chest. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"

"Roxas—I want you to go up to your room and wait 'til your father gets home." She punctuated her sentence with the simple click of the trash can foot pedal.

Roxas awoke with a start, retching and emptying his insides. He'd forgotten how much he hated peanut butter.


The day he'd met Tidus was one of his worst days. It was probably one of his worst because he'd had it set in his mind that it was going to be one of his best.

He'd awoken early in the morning—partially because he wanted to dedicate the whole day to searching for Axel, but mostly because he couldn't sleep.

He bought an all-day train pass and used it to sit on the train for several cycles—back and forth, stop to stop. He'd started with his back straight, his heart beating with a mixture of vigor and agitation. His leg bounced in fits at certain intervals. His eyes scanned the faces around him continually. At each stop, he turned and peeked out the window with fastidious focus for firetruck red hair or shamrock green eyes.

Eventually his resolve began to falter.

His back sagged. His veins congealed. He pulled fitfully at the loose threads poking out from his jeans.

When the sun began to set, Roxas decided to exit the train. He made his way to the clock tower. He peered up with squinting eyes, half-expecting to see two boot-clad feet dangling from the top. But there weren't.

Still, he kept going.

He dragged his feet up the flights upon flights of stairs. It was odd to scale them this way—they never seemed so interminable when he was chasing Axel up them, yelling something about the ethics of such an unfair race—"You can't expect my stubby legs to keep up with your spindly chicken legs!"

Axel would launch back a retort. "Maybe if you didn't yell so much, you'd have the energy to keep up!" At this, Roxas would run faster, his hand held under his sea salt ice cream, catching the drips and globs flying off—if only to smother some onto Axel's smug face and into his red, red hair when he reached the top.

"What? I wanted to see if it would make purple."

Roxas reached the top. It was quiet. He took a step forward. Two steps. Three.

He sat on the edge, alone.

He peered over the edge, his feet dangling with nothing to catch them. Even now, he couldn't deny that he considered it—pushing himself a few wee inches forward and letting gravity take care of the rest. But some stupid little voice inside him told him that maybe—just maybe—he'd missed Axel by a few minutes. Maybe he'd find him back on the train. He had to.

He'd collapsed into the train seat, his head falling into his hands. He didn't possess the energy to hope anymore. He felt empty.

He had no idea how long he'd sat there. A long time.

"Hey, is this seat taken?"

Roxas stayed silent.

They decided to sit next to Roxas anyway—he felt the added weight and the brush of an elbow against his. Even though he still had his head in his hands, he was fairly certain there were plenty of empty seats elsewhere. He sighed audibly. Take the hint, he thought.

"You alright?"

No. No, I'm not. Please leave me alone.

"Are you lost? Do you live around here? I'd be happy to help."

Go. Away. He was so angry and frustrated that tears began flowing down his face. He kept his face hidden in his hands but his nose began to run and his sniffling gave him away.

"…hey. It's okay. It's alright." A hand moved to Roxas's shoulder, giving it a gentle pat. "I'll sit here with you."

At some point, Roxas pulled himself together enough to look up. His gaze was met with watchful blue eyes and a small, reassuring smile. And that was that.


It's not like Tidus didn't know about Axel. He'd told Tidus virtually everything before they ever started dating. In fact, Tidus helped him pull the scattered pieces of his life back together. He got Roxas to pull his head out of his ass and apologize to his friends. Yeah, he still needed to apologize to Naminé, but that was difficult for Roxas and Tidus cut him some slack on that.

And things were easy.

At least, they were easy for Tidus. He was always calm. Reassuring. Understanding. About everything.

And Roxas felt good about him.

He did.

But…

"But what? What are you so afraid of?"

He didn't know. Things should feel better. He knew what to expect with Tidus. He was accepted with Tidus. Tidus was everything he could think to ask for. Patience incarnate.

He just wished his heart would agree.

"You're right, Tidus. I'm…I'm done being afraid. I'm in this. I am."

"Cherish me, Roxas. And I'll cherish you. Okay? We've gotta stick together."

Yeah. We were better together.