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Miniature Tigers- Bullfighter Jacket

"That's a disgusting habit, you know," Axel commented almost casually, making Roxas wonder if his mild concern was obligatory or sincere.

"I know. Can't help it," he responded from between his teeth and thumb nail.

"Why chew your nails? Why not chew gum or smoke cigarettes or crack or something?"

"Smoking crack is probably the worst alternative you could have suggested."

"It's better than chewing your nails. That's fucking gross."

"Your hair looks like it smells gross, but you don't see me complaining."

"We only just met, you know. Save the catty criticism for when we're really close. It'll cut deeper."

Roxas rolled his eyes, but internally started a little at the mentioning of being really close to the guy. How long would he be traveling with this stranger? He knew his palms were sweaty and cold now, and he wondered how long he could keep his impending anxiety attack at bay. Every word from Axel's mouth only perpetuated the reality that he was running away from home, completely alone. The concept, the idea, the sudden actuality gave him the sickening feeling of having something dense and metal crash down on him. The seeds of doubt had full-on sprouted now, and he was beginning to question his decisions.

"You okay, kid?" Axel asked.

"I'm fine," Roxas snapped. "And don't call me 'kid'. 'Sport' is better than 'kid'."

"You're attitude is mildly hostile in the most bizarre way I've ever seen. Getting cold feet?"

Roxas couldn't decide if Axel was the annoyingly perceptive type or if his apprehension was that obvious. Since it had clicked, it had begun to grow fast and with a vengeance. His fingers were trembling in his mouth and his brow had furrowed in a way that felt permanent. He wasn't the most adept at controlling anxiety.

"I'm fine." He repeated. He stared out the window again, watching those trees moving by, taunting him in a way that seemed infuriatingly casual, as if they had hands and faces and were waving at him with dumb, oblivious smiles. He had the awful sensation of being out of control of all of this, like it wasn't him who had decided to run away from home in the first place.

"Listen kid, if you're gonna wig out on me, I'd appreciate it if you did it quietly and can assure me that you're not going to tuck and roll out of my Jeep."

"I'm not gonna tuck and roll, damn, I'm not stupid."

"Well I don't know that, we only just met."

"Trust me. I wouldn't jump out of a moving vehicle."

Axel let out an abbreviated laugh and lit another cigarette.

Roxas, wanting nothing more than a distraction from those fucking trees, turned and looked at Axel.

"Wait... Didn't you just smoke a cigarette?" Roxas' big blue eyes were narrow with puzzlement.

"Yep."

"So... Why are you smoking another one?"

"I'm an incredibly unapologetic chain smoker... Say, would you be interested in picking up such a habit? It gets a little lonely, smoking by myself while people make ugly faces and pretend to cough around me. I don't know about you, but I've always thought that was stunningly rude."

Roxas thought about it. Maybe smoking another would calm him down? He didn't see an issue.

"Yeah, I'll have another."

Axel's eyes flashed along with a wicked grin, and he held out the soft pack to Roxas once again. Roxas took one of the cigarettes, cracked the window for ventilation, and this time he did smile, though it was faint and could nearly be described as ambiguous.

"Ah-ha! I saw that," Axel said.

"Saw what?"

"You smiled, sort of. You should do it more often. This ship does run on happy faces, you know."

"Are you being serious?" Roxas' ambiguous smile extended to a noncommittal grin.

"You betcha. I may look like I just snorted a gram line of crystal meth and crawled out of a dumpster that might have contained an aborted fetus, but most parents would describe me as wholesome and delightful as their kid's breakfast cereal."

"I think... Just a shot in the dark, here... that you might be bullshitting me."

"Maybe. I guess you'll figure that out soon enough."

"Do you try to be really perplexing or is it an inherent skill?"

"What do you think, kid?"

The smile that Roxas' face was working on had vanished, and he shot Axel the kind of 'are you shitting me' look that would make thirteen year old girls cry with jealousy. He was really good at giving those stereotypical looks-that-kill that pubescent girls shoot their mothers every chance they get. His friends called it sassy, embarrassingly enough.

"Would you get butthurt if I said I think you're trying too hard?"

"Not really. As much as I appreciate scathing words from little strangers, I've honestly heard that from so many people that I genuinely don't give a shit anymore."

"I'd take that as a sign if I were you," Roxas said cooly, ashing out of the window. Yeah, he could get used to smoking.

"I don't take it as a sign, because I'm willing to bet like, twenty bucks that I give too few fucks to possess the ability try too hard."

Roxas scowled and took a long drag off of his cigarette. Axel was becoming increasingly obnoxious, and he was beginning to question if he could handle an extended car ride with him. How far away was the beach again? Three hours? Roxas exhaled and he felt himself deflate like a birthday balloon in defeat.

"Did I piss you off?"

Roxas sighed and responded, "Can't we just... ride in silence?"

"Do I annoy you?"

"You're getting there."

"Why?"

"You're just irritating. Like, just be quiet for a few minutes and keep your stick out of the fucking ant pile."

"Aww, I stirred up your ant pile? Tough luck, I never shut up."

"God, just drop me off on the side of the road, I'll hitch another ride."

"No can do. We're in this together. I was thinking of making a blood oath, actually. You know, we each cut our thumbs open with a pocket knife and press them together, sealing our fates for eternity and creating an unbreakable pact to be blood brothers until death takes us... Doesn't that sound lovely?"

Roxas cocked and eyebrow and turned to the window again, which was equally unpleasant. If he could have rolled his eyes a million times without hurting himself, he would have.

"All jokes and button pushing aside, haven't you noticed something?"

"What?"

"You're not fidgeting or mutilating your fingers anymore."

Roxas' face softened when he realized that, yes, he was no longer trembling, no longer anxious, and no longer biting his nails. He was fairly at ease, if not a little ruffled.

He shook his head and scoffed, and yet he couldn't hold back a smile. The kind with teeth showing that his mother always nagged him to execute in family photos.

"What... Axel, what the hell are you?" Axel had unexpectedly cheered him up, and by unexpectedly Roxas meant that this was something that had literally never happened. Ever. His tone, which was quiet and somewhat muted before, had become a little more bold and unconstrained now, something close to the way he would speak with Hayner or Olette. This was quite the feat for Roxas, because he never opened up and resembled anything comfortable so soon after meeting a person. He wasn't shy by any means, just socially dysfunctional and unable to really find anyone to be interesting or stimulating in any way. He's never felt an initial bond, or even a long term bond, with anyone that was exactly awe inspiring or profound enough for him to blabber with ease and without suspicion. Actually, he's never felt much of a connection with anyone ever. Axel, so far, had shown himself to be the exception to the rule. He made conversation easier than most people. It must have been a Scorpio thing.

"What am I? I'm your bright and shining moment, baby."

"Are you fucking serious right now?"

"You'll get used to it."

Roxas wanted to ask him if, by saying 'you'll get used to it', he really thought that they were going to be sticking together through this little escapade of his, but it was one of those things that you'd rather keep to yourself for fear of either a) making yourself out to be a clingy little nancy boy or b) hearing an answer that may be a little creepy coming from a stranger so early on in the venture.

"Say, looks like we're getting close to Lake City. We'll get on Myrtle Beach Highway in about ten minutes. Or at least that's what my GPS seems to think. You know, I could have taken I-20 to I-95, but I've always liked the back roads."

Roxas grimaced and slouched low in his seat. If they were going through town, god forbid he would be visible. You know, that whole small town rule: everybody knows fucking everybody. If someone caught even a glimpse of him in that jeep, someone with his mother on speed-dial would have it covered in about a nanosecond, and then he would be royally screwed.

Axel looked over at him and grinned knowingly. He had the sense not to comment, but to distract.

"Twenty Questions?"

"Takes too long. And someone always ends up asking about a bra size, even if no one has tits."

"True... Never Have I Ever?"

"That'll work, as long as you don't ask about my sexual encounters."

"Done some fucked up shit, have you?"

"No. My sex life is just non-existent and pointless to ask about."

"Wait," Axel said taking his eyes off the road fully to face Roxas dead on. "Don't fucking tell me." He shook his head in exaggerated disbelief.

"Don't tell you what?" Roxas saw the tops of some very familiar antiquated brick buildings against a cold, cloudy sky and swallowed hard. He turned his entire face to look back at Axel.

"Don't tell me you're a virgin. For the love of our lord and master Satan himself..."

"Watch the road! Jesus!"

"Don't you dare avoid my inquiries!"

"I'll never get to answer if you crash and kill us!"

Axel laughed and looked back to the road. They were doing about twenty-five through the pint-sized town and were in no danger of crashing or killing anyone.

Axel sneered at the old, crusty place. He was happy he was merely passing through.

"To answer your question," Roxas started, sliding lower in his seat and crossing his arms, "yeah, I'm a virgin."

"How?"

"It's not really that crazy. Some people don't lose it until college."

"Really? Shit, I lost mine when I was fourteen."

"Please don't tell me it was to a babysitter, because then I will tuck and roll."

"Unfortunately, it wasn't. It was my best friend. Well, my best friend at the time. We don't really talk anymore. College and all... it separates people."

"Oh," Roxas said simply. He almost asked about the girl and the event, but the conversation had bled into an area that had the potential to be touchy. No need to dig further.

"By the way, if your backpack is obstructing your leg room, you can chunk it in the backseat."

"I will in a bit. Are we almost through town?" He just really needed to get through town.

"Just about. I'll tell you when we're on the main stretch."

"Okay." Roxas reinserted his thumb nail and chewed.

"Hey," Axel started, looking honestly sympathetic. "You need to chill, kid. Come on. I know leaving the nest is a big, scary deal and all, but... You know, hakuna matata, or whatever."

Roxas' brow furrowed and he wanted to respond with his famous sass, because honestly, what kind of seventeen year old boy could possibly even attempt to chill in his current situation? But something stopped him from mouthing off. He actually wanted to hear Axel's opinion on why and how he should stop repeatedly shifting into panic mode.

"Let me have another cigarette and then tell me about the secrets of chill."

"Before I do that, I'm gonna have to know a bit more about you. Hell, all I know is your name and sign. This isn't a booty call at a gay bar. I at least have to know your mom's maiden name and how your first pet died before I stick it in."

"Is this shit constant, or do you have an 'off' button?"

"It's pretty fucking constant. I worked hard on it," he said with a sly smile, handing Roxas another Newport. "I'm about to turn onto the highway. You can sit like a normal human being now."

"Thanks," Roxas said, sitting up and lighting his cigarette with a quickness. He cracked the window again and took a few moments of silence to toss his backpack into the back seat and take a few drags.

"Shall we begin the game?"

"Five or ten fingers?"

"Ten, of course."

"Any rules?"

Axel waggled his eyebrows and said, "No rules. Anything goes, short stuff."

"Well... Never have I ever had sex."

"Oh come on! That's cheap as fuck!"

"You said no rules," Roxas responded musically.

"Okay, okay, let's start over. There's only one rule, and it's 'don't be an asshole or a cheap little shit'. Got it memorized?"

"Please don't tell me you came up with that little catch phrase all by yourself, because it's a little embarrassing."

"You're just jealous because you don't even have a catch phrase."

"Never have I ever..." Roxas cut in and trailed off. "I have... never smoked weed."

"You're shitting me."

"No really, I never have. Not that I wouldn't, I just... I don't know, I guess I've never really had the chance while I was in the mood."

"Ahh, the stars weren't aligned properly?"

"I guess not."

"We're pulling over at that gas station up ahead. Then gimme five minutes."

"Oh... kay?"

They put the game on hold so Axel could take long, lanky strides into the gas station and emerge a few moments later bearing a brown paper bag and a thin plastic package.

"What did you get?" Roxas asked when the Jeep door slammed shut.

"Two Colt 45's and a pack of Zig-Zags. I'm about to get you high as a mother fucker."

Roxas went silent. As much as he wanted to ask 'what's it feel like', he clammed up like a bivalve. If there was anything about himself that really annoyed him, it was his insufferable habit of saying nothing when he feared he would accidentally say something stupid. He always wondered, during all of his little turtle shell moments, what he could have learned, what he could have contributed to, the friends he might have made, the drugs he could have done, the girls he might have fucked, the experiences he could have had, the stories he could have told, if only he had pried his stiff, rusted lips apart and defibrillated his cold, limp tongue long enough to speak and be heard.

Roxas mentally kicked the shit out of himself for letting it happen again, yet remained silent.

Axel looked to and fro to make sure no one seemed interested in his Jeep, and reached down into his boot to remove a small, twisted up plastic bag holding something lumpy and green.

"Oh," Roxas managed to squeak out.

"What?"

"Nothing. It just doesn't really... look..."

"It's doesn't look like the scary, monstrous life ruiner your parents told you it was? Trust me kid, this is the most casual thing you will ever do in your life, and it'll make you feel good, laugh a lot, hungry, horny, maybe a little sleepy, and it'll cure whatever cancer you may or may not have."

"Horny? That's not awkward at all..."

"Not like crazy, raging, uncontainable hard on you could smash buildings with, or anything. Just... if you're around the right people you'll probably be a little more down to fuck than you usually are."

"Oh. Okay."

"Now, if I was handing you some pure MDMA, on the other hand... That's that shit that wreaks havoc." Axel looked as if he were looking back on a moment that he was both overly fond of and slightly disturbed by.

"Um... What is that?"

"Oh boy..." Axel rolled his eyes and shook his head, a gesture that Roxas found uncomfortable to look at, for some reason. Maybe it was the sudden awareness that he actually didn't know much about drugs. It almost produced that hot flush in his ears he gets when he says something dopey and gets laughed at. His reaction embarrassed him, like Axel was on a panel of judges behind a wide table and loose leaf papers solely there to review and critique his existence, only to shatter Roxas' hopes, dismiss him with a wave of his hand, and move on to the next candidate. It was a silly thought, he told himself, but Roxas felt the cold sting of humiliation deep and subtle in his solar plexus all the same. It was that horrid gut feeling that he tried to avoid with his signature bivalve behavior. Roxas could have knocked his own teeth down his throat.

Axel started breaking weed on a cd case and rolling a joint then. All of the manner of smells that were in the Jeep before were replaced with the exotic aroma of grape flavoring and dank bud. Roxas thought that the smell was almost earthy, like a mixture of pine, citrus, and soil. It was a very nice smell.

"I'll tell ya one thing, sport," Axel said from between the teeth that the joint stuck out from, "if you don't gain anything from adventuring with me, you'll at least gain knowledge and potentially first hand experience about the finer, less healthy, but immensely enjoyable things in life."

With a flick of his lighter and a little twitch at the corner of his mouth, he lit up, puffed, and inhaled deep.

As he exhaled, the action was broken up by repressed coughs, the solid cloud of smoke whooshing out of his lips in a stop-and-go fashion. His body gently lurched with each of the forced halts, his eyes watering lightly, eyebrows raised, a good natured expression on his face.

"Wow," cough, "that's a kick," cough, "in the fucking throat!" Cough.

Roxas eyed the scene in front of him. He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about getting kicked in the throat, but Axel seemed to be happy with the effect, and he involuntarily curled his toes in excitement. He was ready to try something new. This was what this whole quest was for to begin with, wasn't it?

"I stopped by a friend's house in Camden on the way," cough, "and bought an eighth from him," cough. "It's really good medical grade stuff."

He extended the joint to Roxas then, which he took with a little nervous twinge of his stomach.

"Here goes nothin'," he said with a vague smile and a shrug.

"Pull with your lungs, don't suck on it like a cigarette."

It was easier than expected. The heavy, earthy smoke had a bitter, spicy, yet pleasant taste. He licked his lips and tasted the sweetness of the paper. As he exhaled his own thick cloud of smoke, his throat and lungs began to burn like fucking hellfire, and he broke into a fit of coughs resembling a tuberculosis patient in 1912.

His eyes watered with the exertion of his coughing attack. He tried to repress them like Axel did, but with no such luck. I guess it was a skill that came with practice.

"No, don't hold back the coughs," Axel said, a very self satisfied expression smeared across his face. "Coughing makes you like, fifty times higher."

"Then why," wheeze, "don't you cough?"

"Because it's annoying."

"You're being a hypocrite."

"Does being a Scorpio count as an excuse?"

Their voices were strained with smoke, and the cab of the Jeep was hazier than ever. Axel put the Jeep into reverse and pulled out of the gas station and began to drive away, taking the joint back from Roxas.

Axel took another two tokes, Roxas took one more, Axel took another, and then a slow sensation crept up on him. His eyelids felt puffy, and he was having a hard time keeping them open. A smile spread across his face, the corners of his mouth practically touching his earlobes, and he had the strangest, most distinct feeling that his head had turned into a balloon. He thought about the old AirHead candy commercials from the 90's and started giggling.

"Fuck, don't tell me you're a giggler," Axel said as he cracked open the window to throw the roach out and ventilate the car a bit.

Axel's voice sounded very far away. Roxas turned his head to look at him, very slowly, not able to move at a normal speed, and continued to laugh.

"Am I high? Like, this is what this is?"

"Yeah, this is what this is."

"This isn't even that crazy. I just feel..."

"Chill?" Axel suggested. His eyes were puffy, too.

"Yeah!" Roxas' facial muscles were beginning to cramp from smiling so hard.

"See? And that, my friend, is the secret of chill."

"Wow. That came full circle in an unexpected way. It's like a movie." He felt like he could have babbled endlessly. He didn't even care how unlike him that feeling was.

"Or just me answering your questions."

"Or that."

"You know what's exponentially better when you're high?"

"What's that?"

"Pink Floyd."

With that, Axel tethered his iPod to his car's sound system and shared with Roxas glories of The Wall. It was loud and nearly overwhelming, to the point that Roxas could feel a tightness in his throat, a side effect of a wave of emotion that might have had potential to cause tears. He was able to insert himself fully into the sound, and there was something very profound and big about the feeling; he had never experienced any substance that actually enhanced his senses, after all.

"This is fucking beautiful!" He proclaimed this at the top of his lungs, tilting a scrunched up face to the ceiling of the Jeep.

"I told you!"

"Hayner really loved this album," Roxas said with a small, quiet smile.

"If you don't like Pink Floyd, I don't like you."

That was one of the first things the two blond boys ever argued about since they had broken the casual-friend-at-school boundary and ventured into the-asshole-that-raids-your-fridge area. Roxas was fourteen, Hayner had just turned fifteen. It was summer, the first summer they ever hung out together. They were bored, and Hayner was confused about Roxas' taste in music.

"I didn't say I don't like them, they're just not my cup of tea, I guess."

"Oh what, not grunge enough for you? You're the only person I know who still actually listens to Nirvana. What the fuck is this, 1992?" Neither of them noticed the hypocrisy in that retort.

"I have an old soul, I guess," Roxas said, picking at a broken button on his green flannel shirt. In all actuality, it wasn't even flannel. It was a cotton shirt with a plaid print. Roxas didn't know any better yet.

"Oh fuck you, you don't have an old soul, you're just an angsty fourteen year old."

"Shut up dude, I'm no less angsty than you are!"

"I'm chill as fuck, don't get it twisted."

"I'm not 'getting it twisted'. Who even says that?"

"Me, faggot."

Roxas rolled his eyes and rolled over onto his stomach. He was currently lying in his bed while Hayner sat in the computer chair, spinning in lazy circles.

"I'm just saying," Hayner continued, "You can't top The Wall. Hands down, best album ever written."

"You're full of shit. Have you even listened to The White Album?"

"The Beatles? Seriously? You're the biggest closet hipster I've ever met."

"I'm not a hipster!"

"That's what they all say."

Neither of them knew how immature and unrefined their music taste actually was. If you had told them, at the tender ages of fourteen and fifteen, that Pink Floyd, Nirvana, and The Beatles were all technically considered pop music, they would have gone up in arms and argued all day that they were absolutely not pop. They were so not mainstream. They were original and edgy and no one listened to them. Like, ever.

"I'm so bored!" Roxas moaned into his pillow after a long pause.

"Wanna walk and get some ice cream and hang out at the spot? Meet Pence and Olette?"

"I guess so."

It was all they had to do, really, but Roxas probably couldn't think of anything more fun at the time. It was all he really knew. This was the first group of friends he ever had that he habitually hung out with, after all. He was social enough, but only marginally. He wouldn't call himself a butterfly.

They left Roxas' typical suburban southern house and got their ice cream, Hayner pushing Roxas into a trash can on the way, causing him to flail dramatically in his descent to the pavement, and dump all of the trash into the street. Hayner howled and ran away, leaving Roxas with skinned palms and red ears.

"Hey, I got a winner!" Olette said an hour later after finishing her own sea salt ice cream bar. She was lounging on her favorite couch in their little secret hang out spot, which they were very proud of. She waved her popsicle stick in the air triumphantly, the faint letters on the stick vaguely visible to the other three friends.

"Man, I've never gotten one of those," Pence said, sitting in the floor with his back against the couch.

"Like you need one, Tubby," Hayner cracked. There was a ring of 'ohhhhs' around the small circle of friends. Pence could even admit that he kind of walked into it.

"Apply cold water to burned area," Olette giggled.

They talked and laughed and joked and listened to music and play fought and pulled pranks and did all the normal shit that kids their age did, and Roxas loved it at first, he really did. It was unfortunate that he got so tired and bored as fast as he did. It probably took about a year for him to slip into a state of boredom that felt a lot like he would imagine cryostasis to feel like.

"We should hit the beach this summer," Hayner suggested as the sun was setting, and they all began to gather their things to head back home. It would be dinner time for all of them soon.

"Yeah, we should," Pence responded, checking his phone for calls from mom. "I'm sure my brother can take us before school starts back."

"Lame. Your brother is a buzz kill from hell." Hayner accentuated his statement with a well-placed toss of a popsicle stick at Pence's head.

"Then what's your bright idea?"

"I dunno. Steal a car. Rob a bank. Get older friends."

Roxas considered that option for a moment. It was an idea that he felt had endless opportunities attached to it, and since he had gotten some real friends, he figured it was a very doable option.

He would look into it.

"So about that game..." Axel trailed off and lit another cigarette. They had decided to turn the music down for background noise after several songs.

"What game?" Roxas asked. He was feeling a little sleepy now. Not to mention forgetful. They were playing a game...?

"That game of Never Have I Ever that we started? Your brain didn't turn into a fried egg that fast, did it?"

"Oh..." Roxas remembered, though he didn't think he had the kind of attention span at the moment to keep focused on the number of fingers they had up or down. "Wanna play truth or dare, instead?"

"I like the way you think, sport," Axel's eyes sparkled at the idea.

"I refuse to do anything fucked up, so don't even think about asking."

"I can be very persuasive."

"I'm sure you can, but not with this guy."

"We'll see... And on that note, truth or dare?"

"Truth," Roxas said almost in a knee-jerk fashion. He rarely ever said 'dare' first.

"Alright... Tell me the truth. Is your life really that boring?"

The air in the Jeep became suddenly very heavy and thick as they both held in bated breaths. Roxas swallowed a lump in his throat.

He looked out of the window and saw a vaguely familiar corner store with an old Coca-Cola sign and a highlighter green poster board advertising "country cooking" inside.

Axel made a noise in his throat as if to say, "I'm waiting". Roxas looked back to the man and immediately had the thought that there was no purpose in telling him at all; those eyes that Roxas tentatively searched now made it seem as if he already knew, as if he had been Roxas in a past life and was coming back to tell him that he was a fucking idiot who didn't know anything about anything.

"Why do you think?" Roxas offered. He sneered in annoyance; he didn't feel quite as high anymore after that question.

"Listen, it had to either be obscenely boring or abusive, and I don't see any signs of mental trauma hidden in those baby blues. You ran because you couldn't take one more day in that stagnant shit hole."

Roxas pressed his lips together tightly and looked down at his lap.

"You don't have to tell me everything. Chances are, it's a long fucking story." His voice softened and his words were full of empathy that Roxas didn't trust. He didn't like the fact that Axel was asking oddly specific questions and basically answering them correctly on his own. It didn't sit well on his gut at all.

"Yeah, it is." Roxas looked up from his lap to stare straight ahead. He heard Axel take another drag off of his cigarette.

Surprisingly, Axel had no response. Roxas could almost feel him thinking about what he could say that wouldn't sound patronizing or shallow, and to be honest, Roxas couldn't think of a response himself that he wouldn't be offended by.

"Truth or dare?" Roxas asked, taking the responsibility off of Axel's shoulders.

"Truth," he responded.

"Is that your natural hair color?"

Axel barked a laugh.

"Is that seriously your question?"

"Yeah."

He sighed and said, "Well, to answer your oh so deep and prying question... sort of."

"Sort of?"

"Yeah, it's naturally red, but not exactly this shade, per se. I color it a little."

"How metro," Roxas laughed.

"Hey, I highly doubt your hair is all swooshy and cute like that because of a few cowlicks."

"It's not cute."

"It is."

"It is not."

"I bet girls ask to touch it all the time because it's so cute."

Roxas let out a slightly mortified and anguished groan.

"Truth or dare?" Axel asked, throwing yet another cigarette out of the window.

Roxas stared him down with a dark look before answering, "Truth."

"Gay, straight, bi, trans, asexual, pansexual, none of the above...?"

"Well..." There was a long pause. A long pause that was interrupted by Axel whistling the Jeopardy theme song.

"Don't fucking start."

"Then answer my question."

"I don't... really know...?"

"Hmm." Axel's eyes narrowed.

"What?"

"I... now don't take this the wrong way, but I kind of already got a not-so-sure vibe from you."

"Yeah? And what about you?"

"You know... I'm not really sure yet either."

"That surprises me, a lot."

"Why's that?"

"Because you seem extremely sure of everything."

"That's because you don't know me, sport."

Roxas inserted two fingers into his mouth, completely subconsciously, wondering if this car ride was going to get any more or less melodramatic and invasive. He just wasn't sure whether he liked Axel or not, whether he could trust him as far as he could throw him or farther. What was he trying to pull, anyway? Was he trying to act as if he truly was some kind of savior for Roxas, illuminating some metaphorical path before him, the end of the road being some sort of paradise revolving around everything his parents ever told him not to do?

Was that really something to worry about, or embrace?

His mind was in turmoil; gut feeling and inherent desire were currently battling learned behaviors and his parents concept of morality. On one hand, he was extremely tempted to throw all caution to the wind and dive head-first into an entirely different world, to throw himself to the wolves, to see what would happen. After all, hadn't he already started that chain of events by hitchhiking down the highway to begin with? On the other hand... morality wasn't a concept that he could so easily rip apart, and at this point, he still wasn't sure whether he wanted to rip it apart at all.

"Truth or dare?" Roxas asked quietly.

"Dare. And stop fucking chewing your goddamn fingers."

"I dare you to pull over and moon the next car that drives by. And they're my fingers, I can do whatever the hell I want with them."

"Ugh, it makes me nervous," Axel said with a scowl, slowing down and pulling off into the dirt and dead grass.

Axel's face alone as he dropped trou' and pressed his pale ass against his window as a wholesome and horrified family of four drove by was enough to send Roxas into another fit of giggles; after all, he was still under the influence of weed. No amount of mental unrest would change that just yet.

"You look like you do this every fucking day. Like, oh no biggie, I'm just gonna expose myself to non-consenting public. I do it all the time."

"Maybe I do, you don't know me," Axel said with an eyebrow waggle, re-zipping and buttoning his pants.

"I should get out now before I have to tuck and roll."

"Before you do that, truth or dare?"

"Dare." He could say dare now that Axel had said it. He never said it first. He always felt too eager somehow when he said it first.

"I want you to dodge the next train that comes by."

A silent huff of nervous laughter ghosted past Roxas' lips, barely heard over the idling of Axel's unmoving Jeep, and the corner of his mouth twitched, wanting to smile in the hopes that this asshole was fucking joking.

"No way man, why would you ask that?"

"The railroad tracks run parallel to this road, right past those trees on our right. I'm gonna roll down the windows, we're gonna drink these Colt 45's before they get too warm, we're gonna listen for the next train, and you're gonna dodge it when it rolls by." Something in Axel's eyes was dark in the way that set off every alarm, red flag, warning bell, and siren that existed in Roxas' head. "Or, you know, you could get to hitching a different ride... your choice."

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Roxas asked, jolted and panicked. None of his friends back home would have ever dared him to do something that stupid.

"Deal?"

Roxas shook his head and flung open the car door, slinging one leg out as if he were going to leave, and stalled. He ran his tongue across the backs of his slick front teeth and debated. He didn't know how many more drivers would be willing to pick him up and take him as far as Axel was willing to take him, and it was still awfully cold...

He situated himself back into the passenger seat, but left the door open. A giant glass bottle was suddenly dropped into is lap, narrowly missing his valuables, and he flinched and snapped his gaze back to that stupid, crazy redhead that he was beginning to dislike.

"You really have no off button, do you?" Roxas asked.

"If I can honestly say one thing about myself, it's that I believe deeply in the concept of going hard or going the fuck home. You can do with that what you will."

Axel pried the cap off his beer and drank deeply, the smell of it greeting Roxas' nose nearly instantly. Roxas had always liked beer when he had it. He slowly, timidly, took the bottle opener from Axel's outstretched hand and opened his own beer, licking the cool glass with just the tip of his pink tongue and tasting a hint of yeast and hops. The beverage was crisp on it's way down his throat, and he was able to focus on the repetitive act of tipping the glass bottle back, feeling the carbonated liquid run down his esophagus and bubble in the depths of his stomach where it would wait to be filtered and then expelled. He waited for Axel to say something else completely outrageous, because what else was this psycho going to say, but no words came. He simply looked down at the bottle on his knee, the sand that had filled the cracks and crevices of the floorboard, the pale, dead grass on the ground beneath him.

Axel lit another cigarette.

"Want one?" He asked.

Roxas nodded his head and gave the soft pack a sideways glance.

"There's only one left," he stated.

"I know. I bought another pack at the gas station. I won't hold you to it."

A train horn sounded in the distance. Axel sat up straight, eyes wild and wide, and reached for the handle of his door.

Roxas' eyelids drooped before he responded, "Honestly... I'm banking on that."

"Consider this train dodge payment for everything I ever do for you. You'll thank me later."

There was something significant about that statement that caused the strangest sensation to creep up Roxas' spine.

He said nothing as he finally planted his feet on the ground. He gripped his beer tightly, not willing to have his hands empty, to not have anything to clutch desperately to. Each step felt stupid, like a deliberate attempt at purposeless suicide, and Roxas berated himself for every plodding step that carried him closer to those train tracks.

"Hurry up, you'll miss it, the next train won't come through for hours, probably!" Axel ran up beside him with those distinctive lanky strides, and threw an arm over his shoulders. "I'll do it with you if it'll make you feel better."

Well, at least he wouldn't die alone. He nodded his head in affirmation, staring blankly ahead through the trees at the dark, rusted iron rails that were beginning to look more and more like some medieval death machine the closer he got to them.

They were both standing on the tracks sooner than Roxas wanted them to be, and he could feel the rails rumble beneath his feet much more violently than he would have liked.

"Here it comes," Axel mumbled. Roxas risked a glance at the seemingly deranged man to his left and swallowed thick. "Jump when it's about six feet away."

Dry air left his throat as he nodded once again. His eyes were forced open so wide, he felt like he would never blink again.

Massive amounts of metal and power and machinery rounded the bend in the tracks, and Roxas barely had time to think before it seemed to be nearly on top of him. The sound was louder than anything that had graced his ears, and the sheer mass of the object rumbling towards him made his knees weak and his mouth dry.

He could admit that he screamed like a girl as Axel shoved him off of the tracks before jumping off himself on the opposite side.

Roxas laid there, spread eagle in the itchy brown grass, chest heaving and eyes still peeled, watching each train car as it passed him by, each wheel, each warning label, each piece of graffiti. When the last car rolled by and the wall of metal was replaced with pine trees, Roxas saw a bright head of hair pop up from the other side of the tracks.

Axel whooped and howled and jumped with more energy than Roxas could fathom. The next thing he knew, the man had leaped over the tracks and jerked him up from his safe place on the ground, ruffling his blond hair and shouting meaningless curses at the sky. The look on his face was wildly happy; his teeth were flashing in a bright grin, his eyes were wide and feral, his laughter was simply manic, and everything combined made Roxas' heart beat that much faster. If he hadn't known any better, he could have sworn that he was on the brink of cardiac arrest.

"You're... you're fucking crazy," Roxas croaked. He was sure he hadn't blinked yet, and if it weren't for his arm around Axel, he probably would have fallen to his knees.

"Are you kidding me? That was exhilarating!"

"I need to sit down."

"Oh brother," Axel said, prying Roxas hand from his shirt and letting him nearly crumple to the ground. Axel dropped to the ground and found himself on his back next to the traumatized boy.

The sun was beginning to set beyond the tree line, and the cloudy, grey day was giving way to one of the only moments of color during this season. The sky turned purple and orange and pink and red and the two newly made friends looked up at the sky, their breath visible on each exhale.

"Aren't you cold?" Roxas asked, looking down at Axel's tank top.

"Nah. I don't mind it."

"I meant what I said. You're fucking crazy."

"What does that make you?"

Roxas paused. "Stupid," he settled with saying.

Axel laughed softly and looked from the boy to the sky and back again. Green eyes closed and he inhaled deep through his nostrils. He was ready to smell ocean instead of pine.