Chapter 8

Ignite

He stood in the snow, body bare, slaughtered shoulders heaving with every labored breath. Each scar on his body ripped open at the slightest movement, sending fresh, hot blood rolling in droplets down his arm, only to seal themselves again once the movement settled, as if the skin had returned to its proper place from somewhere distant. A single, eyeless socket bled profusely, unyielding, like a dark waterfall down the right side of the frightful stranger's face.

"Ni shuo ni neng bangzhu wo ma?" gasped the man, his flesh on his left arm unraveling like a spool of thread. It disappeared into the unknown, leaving only bare bone behind. "Dan yuan..."

Zexion pressed himself closer to Vexen, clinging to his sleeve with the hand unoccupied by his white tome. Though his face and voice were neutral, they were belied by his body language; he was horrified. "He's saying," said Zexion, only the slightest hint of his accent remaining after only months of travel, "that he doesn't believe we can help him."

Vexen offered his free hand to the stranger, eyes narrowed. "There is no need to trust us," he said, Zexion following each word with a Mandarin translation, "but there is also no need to suffer these struggles alone. The hardships of your idiosyncrasies. The challenges of being different from all you know. I must ask, how long have you been living on your own in the snow, barely surviving? How much longer until your heart separates from you, or your lungs, or some other necessary organ? And what do you have to lose by trusting in two strangers?"

The scar-covered man looked down at the proffered hand, his functional eye narrowed into a skeptical glare. "Weisheme yao bang wo? Shi shinme zai gei ni?"

"He wants to know what benefit we get from this," said Zexion.

Vexen responded with a demonstration. The pale of frost crept down the sleeve of his tunic, along the hem of his cloak, the capelet, whatever was furthest from what warmth emanated from his core.

The stranger's eye widened.

"Perhaps you could use the same argument I used to convince you to join me, Zexion."

"I don't remember your words exactly," said the boy. "Too much time passed between that point and the point at which I obtained the White Tome. However, perhaps you could do the honors yourself."

Vexen watched with a great deal of curiosity as Zexion released his arm to gesture to the scarred man before them. The pages of his tome began to flip wildly, and a black smoke rose from within. It hovered in the air, coalesced into a cloud of black dust, and shot forward to wrap itself around the stranger.

The scarred man began to cough painfully, fanning away the dust with one hand while the opposite remained immobile at his side without muscles to control it. "What the hell did you do to me?!" gasped the man. His mobile hand shot to his throat. "The hell-?"

"To answer your question with my own voice, Sir," said Vexen, "I have always wanted to be a teacher, and I dare anyone to find a better student than one as desperate to understand as you. Not only that, but it would be a comfort, for Zexion as well as myself I am sure, to be joined by someone just as unusual, as...unique as the two of us. So, what say you?" Again, he offered his hand. "Will you travel with us?"

The scarred man turned the thoughts over in his mind for what seemed like an eternity, his every feature pressed into a scowl of contemplation. After several moments, however, he lifted his head with a confident smirk and stalked toward the two in the snow, leaving bare footprints behind. "You know what? Sure. Why the hell not?" Gradually, the skin from his arm began to reappear, spreading downward from his elbow to eventually envelop his fingertips. Though he regained the use of his arm, there was no sign of his eye. Perhaps that loss was permanent. "The name's Xigbar. Can't wait to start learning from you."

"It is a pleasure to meet you as well," replied Vexen, almost glowing with pride. "We welcome you to our party."

Roxas hopped down the stairs eagerly, pulling his hood back the second his foot hit the bottom step.

"Axel!" he greeted beamishly. "Hey!"

He was greeted in turn by orange light, the same as always.

"You're here early," said Axel, smirking from behind the flame. "What's with the chipper attitude? Did Santa leave an extra toy in your stocking or something?"

Roxas chuckled warmly. "I can't be in a good mood?"

"In a place like this?" countered Axel skeptically. "Come on, spill it. What's the story?"

Roxas shook his head and took a seat on the floor in front of Axel, almost close enough for their knees to touch. "I'm learning about a part of myself that I should have had figured out a long time ago. You said it yourself. So why shouldn't I be happy?"

"Fair enough," said Axel. "Anyway, if you're in a mood like this, we might actually be able to make some real progress today. What do you think? Care to give it shot?"

Roxas nodded. "Yeah. Let's do it."

"All right." Axel closed his fingers around the fire in his palm, dousing the light and plunging the two of them into darkness. "Put your hands out like you did yesterday. Let's aim for a steady glow this time. Something that you can actually hold onto for a few seconds instead of that spark. Think you can handle that?"

"I can try," said Roxas, and he held out his hands.

He took a deep breath, focusing every joule of energy he had on the happiness he felt. He centered himself on the good mood that he was in and the way it made his pulse race. He thought about how excited he'd been all day at the prospect of spending the night with Axel, how he hadn't been able to stop his knee from bouncing or wipe the smile from his face no matter what he did.

Without the slightest bit of struggle on Roxas' part, a spark began to crackle to life between his open hands. It was unsteady, like an arc of electricity, and it almost sounded like it as well, considering crackling, but still, Roxas managed to keep it under his control without much effort.

Axel laughed softly with what sounded like surprise, maybe even pride, and Roxas couldn't hold back a grin in turn. The light even stopped crackling for a brief moment, holding steady and strong for no longer than a second. It wasn't long before it popped out of existence, filling the room once more with pitch black, but that didn't stop Axel's low whistle from echoing across the stone walls.

"Not bad, Roxas," said the man. "That's a lot of improvement for one day. Think you can show me one more time?"

"I can try." Roxas rolled up his sleeves, ignoring the bite of the frigid basement air. "Okay. Here we go."

"Ah, Xigbar. How is the eyepatch treating you?"

The man who had just walked in rapped the rigid cloth over his empty eye socket with a shrug. "A huge pain in my rear end," he admitted. "It really kicks it the rest of the way home that I'm not getting my eye back any time soon. But forget that for now. I think it's my turn to ask some questions, don't you?"

"Ask away," said Vexen, crossing his arms.

"All right," said Xigbar. "What's the deal with you and Shrimpy? Who are you two?"

"Zexion and I are travelers," explained Vexen. "We seek knowledge, as much as we can garner, and travel provides us with such. Nothing more."

"So you two just happen to be able to do crazy things with your mind?" A cut beneath Xigbar's left eye reopened, a strip of flesh disappearing. The world seemed to warp around the wound, as if it were giving off intense heat.

"We found each other by chance," said Vexen, "just as we found you. Both scholars, we shared a common interest. Zexion saved my life, and in return, I took him under my wing. The idiosyncrasies that we share are a mere coincidence."

"So how'd you find me?" asked Xigbar, blood dripping down his chin. "No one was supposed to be able to find me. I went into the mountains for a reason."

"You aren't as good as hiding as you seem to fancy yourself," said Vexen. "Rumors from the villagers alerted us to your presence. We merely followed the bread crumbs you left behind."

Xigbar scoffed. "More like people crumbs... So what's with this Tower of Babel crap going on with me right now? Is that his doing?" He pointed to Zexion, who was reclining on the bed, his nose deep in the Untitled Writings.

"It is merely an illusion," said Zexion. "The truth is, you aren't speaking English at all. I have only made it so that you are perceived as speaking English, just as we are not speaking Mandarin. My power over illusion is no different from Vexen's power over ice or your power over space."

"Space?" quizzed Xigbar. "Is that what's going on with me?"

Zexion nodded once, turning a page, his eyes never lifting from his book. "The name for what we are is 'Thaumaturge'. Vexen is a Frigorific Thaumaturge, I am a Fabular Thaumaturge, and you are a Vicissitudinous Thaumaturge."

"Vissy-what?"

"It means unstable," said Zexion. "Ever changing. As you are."

"So how do I control it?" asked Xigbar. "How do I master it like you two?"

"Through our comparisons," said Vexen," we have determined that the source of our ability comes from depth of emotion. Both of us tap into a certain emotion in order to call forth our abilities, and in order to contain them, we call upon the opposite emotion. In order to control your ability to bend space to your will, you will first need to ascertain what emotion calls forth that ability."

"Mistrust," said Zexion simply, turning another page. "Your manipulation over space comes from mistrust."

When Roxas next returned to the basement, he seemed almost a completely different person from who he was on his previous visit.

He walked quietly, almost silently if not for the sound of his hand sliding against the wall of the stairwell.

Axel illuminated the basement and everything in it, including his own face; his eyebrows were drawn together in concern. "Roxas? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," said Roxas, less than convincing, dropping his gaze with a shrug. He crossed the room to where Axel sat, dragging his feet with every step, and took a slow seat in his usual spot. "Let's just start."

"Start?" asked Axel. "As in start practicing something that needs happiness to work when it looks like you're as far from happy as you can get?" He shook his head, offering an encouraging smile. "Let's just take it easy for now. You homesick again?"

Again, Roxas shrugged. "Maybe a little," he admitted, "but...that's not really it."

"So what is?" asked Axel.

"I don't know." Roxas shook his head. "I've got a lot of time to kill during the day, so...I guess I just spend it thinking too much."

"About what?"

Roxas shrugged.

Axel nudged his uninjured shoulder with the hand that didn't carry flame. "Come on. Keeping it all bottled up won't help you. Just tell me what's on your mind. Get it out of your system."

Roxas hesitated for a long, quiet moment, debating with himself, before he finally admitted what was on his mind. "It's my mom."

"What about her?" pressed Axel.

"I was thinking about the day she, uh, passed," said Roxas quickly, trying to shrug off the question. "I know, it's stupid, you don't have to l-"

"Roxas, shut up."

Roxas flinched. He knew it was stupid, but he wasn't expecting Axel to be so-

"We're friends, aren't we?"

"...What?"

"Friends have to lean on each other every now and then," said Axel. There was something gentle in his eyes, something that Roxas couldn't quite put a name to. "What kind of a friend would I be if I wasn't even here to help you shoulder the small stuff? Come on, Roxas. Let it out."

Roxas couldn't help but stare, lips parted in surprise. Axel was so sarcastic most of the time that it was easy to forget how sincere he could be when push came to shove. A small, touched smile tugged at Roxas' lips. "Thank you." It was all he could think to say.

"There was a storm, right?" asked Axel.

"Yeah," said Roxas. "How did you know that?"

"Uh..." Roxas scratched the back of his head. "Xion told me. Sorry about that."

Roxas' smile only widened. That meant that Xion had been visiting him again. That was good to hear. "It's fine," he said, shaking his head. "Yeah, it was a storm." His smile had already begun to fade again. "I already told you that Sora and I were farmers. Before I left, all we did was raise crops, but back when Mom was still around, we had sheep, too." He took a deep, steeling breath. "When we realized how bad the storm was getting that day, we tried to herd our sheep in to the sheepcotes to keep them from getting hurt, and one of the ewes escaped." Roxas folded his arms over his chest, rubbing one of them absently while he spoke. "Sora and I ran after her, but it took a lot longer than we thought it would to catch her. We wound up cornering her in an alley farther into the city, but by the time we finally got back..." Roxas trailed off.

The silence in the cell was thick, heavy, to be permeated only by the crackle of the fire dancing in Axel's palm. Its wielder sat patiently in the dead air, unperturbed by the eerie soundlessness. Though Roxas never once looked up to meet his gaze, he could feel Axel's eyes on him while he waited, invested. There was no pressure, no insistence. It seemed he was willing to wait as long as it took for Roxas to continue his story.

Roxas swallowed hard, took another deep breath, and resumed. "There was...a shed behind our house where we kept our tools. Shears, scythes... And Mom went inside to grab something. Or maybe just to get out of the rain without being forced to huddle with the sheep, and... I... I-I guess the rain and wind was too much." Roxas closed his eyes. "It... It collapsed. With her still inside." He hunched his shoulders, curling into himself, his arms tightening around his midriff. "I don't even remember what happened after we found her. I guess I must have blacked out or something. But all I remember after that is seeing Sora gripping onto her like he could steal her back or something. Every time the lightning flashed, it lit up his face, and I saw him crying. His skin was covered in watery blood from her clothes. There was so much of it... Even with the rain washing it away, there was still so much-"

"Roxas."

At the feeling of a warm hand on his shoulder, Roxas lifted his head and forced his eyes to open. When he did, he found himself surprised that there was no rain down there with them. No wind. No mud. No storm to speak of. Just cold and dark, with the faintest warmth emanating from Axel's fire.

In Axel's face, he saw pain, features twisted and contorted, as if he had somehow just felt everything Roxas had all those years before. There was desperation in his eyes as they flickered across Roxas' face. Worry. Axel's grip tightened.

"I'm sorry," whispered Roxas, dropping his gaze. "I didn't mean to get so... I just... I got...swept away for a second."

"Yeah," came Axel's warm voice. "I noticed."

Several seconds passed in haunting silence before Axel was able to break it with a sigh.

"Look," he said, "I didn't mean to stop you. I still want to hear about this, so you can keep talking, but just don't lose yourself." His hand slid down to Roxas' elbow. "I've done that enough times down here to know it's far from fun."

Roxas dropped his hands to his knees and gripped his trousers. "I don't know if I can," he admitted, his gaze zeroing in on a specific stone in the floor. "I've never actually...talked about this before."

"Well, there's your problem," said Axel.

Curious, Roxas lifted his head, and when he did, he found Axel frowning at him.

"You can't just bottle things up like this, Man." He shook his head, red hair sliding to and fro across his shoulders. "Didn't you have anyone to talk to?"

"Well, Sora," admitted Roxas, "but...he was going through the same thing. And he had Riku and Kairi to talk to. They were able to help him, so he didn't need to talk to someone who was just as messed up as he was."

"So you just held it in for years, pretending that there was nothing wrong and trying to convince everyone that you were totally unaffected."

"Pretty much," sighed Roxas, dropping his gaze yet again to the floor. "Sora probably knew what was going on, but he never asked me about it. He was probably waiting for me to go to him." He laughed half-heartedly. "Sometimes, I kind of wish he didn't, but I know I can be kind of stubborn. He probably figured I'd push him away if he tried to help."

"You didn't push me away," said Axel.

"Yeah, well..." Roxas chewed his lip thoughtfully. Why hadn't he pushed Axel away? "I guess...it's probably because you didn't push me away, either. You didn't have to tell me about why Xemnas keeps you in here, but...you did. So why shouldn't I return the favor?"

Again, the room filled with heavy silence.

The sound of shuffling reached Roxas' ears, followed by jingling, and before Roxas so much as lifted his head to find out where it was coming from, the answer came to him. A strong arm wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him into Axel's side. He was warm. Really warm.

"Roxas," said the man, his voice almost a whisper, "don't hesitate to talk to me, all right? You've got me from now until the end, whether you want me or not. We are best friends. Get it memorized."

Roxas lifted his head, despite the struggle to move it when Axel held him so tightly. Even in his sparse view from the side of Axel's face, he could read sincerity. Axel really meant it.

Best friends, huh?

"Okay," whispered Roxas, closing his eyes and leaning into Axel's warmth. "I trust you. But only if you trust me, too."

"I'll hold you to that," said Axel.

Roxas didn't respond, but then, he knew he didn't need to. All he needed was to rest his head against Axel's shoulder, and all of his pain, all of his morbid memories, seemed to flow out of him like water through a washcloth. Only warmth remained, warmth that he could indulge in for hours on end.

And so that was exactly what he did.

"I could fall asleep here," admitted Roxas after what must have been at least an hour of comfortable silence.

"Hm?" intoned Axel lazily.

"It's just cozy," said Roxas. "It's a little cold, but you're..." He trailed off, suddenly self-conscious. "No, never mind."

"What?" pressed Axel.

"It's silly," said Roxas.

"What happened to trusting me?"

"Come on, that's not fair."

"Sure it is," insisted Axel. "It's not like I'm gonna laugh."

Roxas sighed in submission. "I was just going to say...that you're warm. That's all." He shifted nervously. "It's nice. Especially when it's cold like this."

"I see," said Axel. He took a breath, his chest carrying Roxas' head through the rise and fall. For a second, it seemed as though he wanted to say something, but when he didn't, Roxas chalked it up to his imagination.

"I should probably get going soon," mumbled the boy.

"Yeah," said Axel, though he made no move to release Roxas' shoulder. "You probably should.

Roxas lifted his head, turning it to look at Axel's face. "I'll be back tomorrow, just like always."

"I know you will," said Axel, still avoiding Roxas' gaze. "I trust you."

Roxas couldn't have resisted smiling if he tried. "Yeah, I know." Grudgingly, he pulled himself out of Axel's hold and climbed to his feet. "I'll see you then, okay?"

"Yeah," said Axel, tilting his head back to finally look at Roxas from where he sat on the floor. "See you."

Though Roxas had let go of Axel's warmth, somehow, it had managed to stay with him. Not only for his walk up the stairs, not only the rest of the way into his room, but all through the night and well into the next day.

Somehow, it refused to let go.

Even from inside the cabin, Vexen could feel the rage of the storm. Honestly, it was a miracle that Xigbar hadn't woken up from all of the swaying and each crash of thunder that roared across the waves. It was certainly keeping Vexen awake, at least.

The man pulled himself upright. Doubtless, Zexion would be struggling to sleep just as much as he was. They did tend to have a lot in common, their sleeping habits included. However, when Vexen looked down beside himself to confirm his suspicions, he discovered that Zexion was much farther from sleep than he originally thought.

In fact, he wasn't in bed at all.

Thoroughly alarmed, Vexen jumped to his feet and rushed to where Xigbar lay. He began to frantically shake the man's shoulders, rousing him from his deep slumber.

"Huh? Wuzzat-"

"Xigbar," said Vexen roughly, "do you have any idea where Zexion might have gone?"

"The shrimpy?" Xigbar pushed himself upright, glaring around the room with a single bleary eye. "No way, man. I don't have a clue."

Clenching his teeth, Vexen whipped around and tore up the stairs, his undertunic flapping around his legs. He pushed the door open, unperturbed by the wind and rain that assaulted his face the second he stepped outside.

"Zexion!" he called out, barely audible over the roar of the storm. "Zexion, where are you?!" He charged onto the deck, scanning the area frantically. Even through the heavy rainfall, it only took him seconds to spot a small figure at the starboard side of the ship, his head tilted back to face the sky, a large book in his hands.

Vexen rushed to the boy's side and kneeled. The boy's shoulders in hand, he whipped him around. "There you are! What on Earth are you doing out here in this weather?"

"This isn't a natural storm," said Zexion effortlessly.

"This isn't- What are you talking about?"

Zexion turned his body toward the water and pointed into the sky. "See there."

Vexen narrowed his eyes, squinting to follow Zexion's gesture into the clouds. It was difficult to make out, but just as Zexion had implied, there was something there. A shadow. A surprisingly human-shaped shadow.

"What on Earth-"

"Another in need of our help, I have no doubt," said Zexion, eerily calm. "I've been trying to call out to him, but he doesn't seem to hear me. Most likely a consequence of the stormy weather."

A stomping sound echoed against the deck boards, catching Vexen's attention and turning him around. Apparently, Xigbar had deigned to put on his clothes before joining Vexen on the deck, though Vexen had to admit, it was honestly the best idea. At least one of them had managed to refrain from panic.

"I can get up there," said Xigbar once he'd been caught up with the situation, "but I'm not the one who knows the guy's language."

Zexion frowned thoughtfully. "I should be able to create another language illusion, but even if I can, are you certain you will be able to calm him enough for him to relinquish this chaos?"

"Easy peasy," said Xigbar. "Give me five minutes. I'll get it under control."

Vexen could hear the doubt in Zexion's sigh. "So be it," he said all the same and opened his tome.

As had been the case with Xigbar, the pages began to flip wildly, apparently of their own volition, whipping up a dark smoke that rose up and shot toward the floating man. It consumed him, depressed into his body, and then began to dissipate.

"Xigbar," said Zexion, his eyes affixed on the tumultuous man, "his fate is in your hands now."

"All right." Xigbar rolled his shoulders. "Time to put my teachings to the test."

The world seemed to warp around his body, light bending as if he were on fire, and he vanished, only to reappear in the sky, beside the airborne man. He walked on the air, gesturing toward the stranger with amicable gestures.

Vexen and Zexion watched with bated breath, fearful of the potential results of this venture.

In moments, however, the storm began to die out; the wind weakened, the rain's rage intenerated, and the man in the clouds stood taller, more in control for all to see.

When he arrived on deck with Xigbar at his side, he seemed stoic in comparison.

"Meet Xaldin," said Xigbar, a self-satisfied grin on his face. "Stormy-" He clapped a hand on the taller man's shoulder. "-these two are gonna help you. The shrimpy's name is Zexion, and the old geezer is Vexen."

Vexen-resisting the urge to counter Xigbar's moniker for him with a reminder that Xigbar was actually slightly older-held out a friendly hand in greeting. "Salutations, Xaldin," he said. "It is our deepest pleasure to welcome you."

When Xion bounced into the room, Roxas couldn't help but notice that something was different abound her. She seemed brighter, more eager than usual, particularly when she yanked Roxas into a cold, tight hug.

"Roxas," she said warmly, "thank you so much!"

"Whoa!" Roxas emerged from the embrace, his lips pulling back into a small smile. "What do you mean, 'thank you'? What are you talking about?"

"It's Axel! He's so much happier," said Xion, beaming. "He's talking to me more, and he actually seems glad when I visit him again, and that's because of you, Roxas. He's like a new person. Or an old one. He's the Axel I knew when we first met. I missed him so much, and you brought him back to me!"

Roxas shook his head. "What did I do?" he asked, still smiling all the same. "All I've done is talk to him."

"Exactly!" said Xion. "And it made all the difference in the world! He needed a friend, Roxas. Someone like you, who wouldn't judge him for being different or blame him just because he blames himself. He needed someone like that more than anything, even if he wouldn't admit it, and you were the perfect person for the job. Thank you."

Roxas laughed, gripping Xion's hands in his own. "You should thank yourself," he said. "It's because of you that I met Axel in the first place, and without you lending me your coat, I wouldn't be able to visit him at all. You're the one who made the real difference."

"No, it's you," said Xion, "I promise. I don't think anyone in the world could have made Axel smile again like he has been. This has to be destiny. You were meant to come here, Roxas. I know you were."

"Destiny?" Roxas laughed softly. "Come on, Xion. It's not a big deal."

"It is," said the girl determinedly. "Trust me. You'd know that if you really knew what Axel was like before you showed up." Pulling her hands back from Roxas, she unzipped her coat and shrugged it from her shoulders.

Roxas took it, his eyes on the black, shining surface rather than the girl across from him. "Do you think we'll ever be able to really hang out?" he asked. "All three of us?"

"Well, Xemnas doesn't leave the manor that much," admitted Xion, "but he does sometimes, so maybe we'll get lucky. Besides..." When Roxas looked up, she was smiling. "You're getting us out of here, right? Once we leave, we'll be with each other all the time."

"Yeah." That reminder filled Roxas with hope, and he found himself smiling again. "You're right. And we'll go somewhere far away from Xemnas. Somewhere he can't follow. And we'll get a house on the beach, where you can collect seashells and Axel can watch the sun set on the water every day."

"And we'll take your brother with us," said Xion. "That way, none of us could ever be happier."

"Right." Roxas grinned. "Well, Axel's waiting for me," he said, slipping his arms into Xion's coat.

"Give him a hug for me, okay?" asked Xion.

"No problem," said Roxas, tugging on the zipper and pulling the hood on over his head. "I'll see you when I get back."

"I'll be waiting right here."

The ball certainly was beautiful. There was no arguing that.

Red and orange banners decorated the walls and tables. The orchestra was full of skilled musicians well-versed in their art, every dancer deeply familiar with her steps. Everything was going exactly as was planned. Everything was absolutely faultless. Perfect.

Perfectly predictable.

A young Axel leaned against a wall-hanging tapestry, watching the crowd with ennui, absently popping phoenix fruit into his mouth. Truly, this was meant to be a coronation ball, simply a welcome to their new king, but Axel knew that the guests had been hoping for more, particularly the maidens. A large percentage of the ball, from the kingdom's subjects to his foreign allies, were hoping against hope that that night would be the night that the new king would find his future queen amongst his guests. Maidens, noble and peasant alike, flocked to the throne in droves, often with their mothers, in their futile attempts to entice the new king. Efforts were made to trap the king in conversation or to coax him into a dance, and Axel knew each effort to be made in vain. After all, he'd known the prince regent for his entire life, and Heaven knew he'd been involved in enough page-dodging distractions so that the prince regent could sneak out of the castle to spend a night with Sir Rudolph the Stoic. Judging by the heady side-long glances the two sent each other across the arm of the throne, none of this ridiculous peacocking was likely to have any effect on their covert relationship. If the king did choose a queen, it would be out of necessity to succeed the throne, not preference for one girl over the next. What was more, if Axel knew the recently-crowned king as well as he thought-and he was certain he knew the king quite well at this stage-then an heir was bound to be chosen at absolute random. No amount of flirtation would make even the slightest difference. No matter what any attendee might have hoped for, the king's coronation would be their only cause for celebration that night.

Cause for alarm, however, was something else entirely.

A loud clattering rang out, raising a commotion that rippled from the south side of the room. Gasps and cries rolled across the crowd like an ocean wave over so much sand, some outcries affronted, others terrified.

Captivated by curiosity, Axel dropped his dates to the floor and began to push through the terrorized crowd, desperate to see what had caused the commotion. The cause became clear quickly enough. A young man, perhaps Axel's age, stood doubled over in front of the balcony doors, moonlight pouring over his blue shoulders, staining his clothes and hair in pale luminescence. His entire body heaved, his fingers curled into claws and pressed hard into his own sides. With every exhalation, his body shuddered stiffly, like a man who was trying to bear too much weight.

His head jerked abruptly upright, baring a fearful grimace that sent another wave of terror through the ballroom, but Axel felt no terror, only further curiosity. His eyes scanned the face of the stranger, his pinched features, his monstrous teeth, his hollow eyes. He was an outcast, an oddity...much like Axel himself.

All at once, terror was replaced by panic as the stranger turned on his heel and jumped through the balcony doors, shattering the glass.

While everyone else pushed and shoved to get as far away from the perceived danger as possible, Axel was pushing the opposite direction. He weaved between people, desperate to follow the stranger, the one out of the millions of people Axel might encounter in his life who might be able to truly understand him, onto the balcony...but he was nowhere to be seen. Alarmed, Axel ran across the broken glass, crushing it beneath his heel with each step, and leaned over the balcony railing. What he saw on the earth below drained the blood from his face.

Somehow, the stranger had managed to bound over the edge of the railing and land on the ground ten meters below without the faintest flinch, and he was not loping, animalistic, into the forest, seemingly uninjured by his long fall.

Axel stared, enraptured, for several awestruck seconds before he whipped around and rushed to the northern exit. He went the direction opposite of the castle's guests, through the southward corridor, and through the servant's entrance, the fastest route to the forest where the man had hidden himself. Doubtless, the guards were already hot on his trail, worried for his safety, provided they didn't have their hands too terribly full with the panicked party guests, thus he couldn't waste a moment for fear of being captured; he was in the forest long before a single footstep beyond his own was able to catch his ear.

Once sufficiently secluded beneath the canopy of the trees, Axel was able to take a breath, to try to dispel the aching stitch from his side, to determine his heading. He opened his palm outward in front of himself, illuminating the surrounding foliage with a tiny flame. The firelight indicated the stranger's path as clear as day; it would have been impossible to overlook the splintered wood and haphazard footprints left in the beastly man's maddened wake.

Before he could risk losing his target, Axel dashed off, following the bread crumb trail of splinters, keeping up a steady pace the best that he could despite the bite under his ribs.

The farther he ran, the more the chaos seemed to dissipate. In time, the splinters disappeared entirely, and Axel was forced to follow the muddy footprints, which seemed to draw closer and closer together until they eventually led Axel to exactly where he wanted to be.

The stranger sat at the edge of a clearing, leaning against a tree, careful to hide himself in its shadow. He was huddled into a ball, but not shaking, like Axel might have expected. He wasn't crying. He didn't seem scared in the slightest. If anything, the blue-haired boy seemed merely disappointed.

Axel banished his fire as he drew closer, closing his fingers around the flame.

"Hey, there," he greeted brightly. "What are you up to?"

The boy raised his head, fixing Axel with a pair of dark green eyes. "Not much," he replied coolly. "Sitting in the mud. Trying not to get caught in the moonlight and risk tearing up more of the forest. Waiting for a soldier to come along and pierce my heart with a silver arrow."

"Silver, huh?" Axel crossed the short distance in front of the other boy and squatted to perch on his heels, caring little for the mud he knew he was getting on his trousers. "You a werewolf or something?"

The boy scoffed. "Hardly," he said. "But that's what the guards will think after what occurred at the coronation."

"You're pretty calm for someone who's waiting for death to come."

"I've been waiting for it to come my whole life," said the boy. "It was just a matter of time before someone discovered my secret."

"Hmm." Axel's gaze wandered over the boy's form with curious eyes, eager to change the subject. "Let's see... Blue hair, pierced ears, and a crescent emblem. Going off your age, I'm gonna guess you're...Saïx of Cold Field. Am I right?"

"And you're Axel of Sublustris," replied Saïx by way of answer. "The apparently fearless Axel of Sublustris."

Axel laughed and stood up, offering his hand. "Well, you're not the only high society outcast."

Saïx eyed the hand warily. "What's this?"

"I'm helping you up."

"Why?"

"To find a hiding spot, loser."

Saïx narrowed his eyes. "To what end?"

"To the end of keeping you from dying. Duh." Axel grinned. "Or did you think I was just going to leave a new friend out here to fend for himself?"

Saïx allowed his eyes to close, and he laughed spitefully. "A new friend, am I?" He sighed and took the hand. "Well, then... In that case, perhaps I should take you up on your offer."

"Damn right you should," said Axel, casting formality to the winds. "And any future offers, too. Got it memorized?"

Saïx stared blankly.

"Good," said Axel. "Now come on. I know a cave not too far from here. It should last us for the night. I'll have everything else figured out by the morning. Promise."

Roxas pursed his lips, glowering at the pathetic sparkle between his hands. He was having so much trouble that day. More than usual. And he knew exactly why.

He sighed submissively and dropped his hands, his gaze rising to seek Axel's eyes in the darkness, not that he could see them. He probably would have been able to see a lot better if Axel had noticed that he'd given up and sparked his fire back to life, but he hadn't. He was distracted by something, apparently lost in thought, and when he was distracted, Roxas couldn't help being distracted as well.

"Axel," he called, trying to catch Axel's attention.

No response.

He leaned forward, shifting to sit on his knees so that he could grab Axel by his shivering shoulders and give him a firm shake. "Axel!"

"Hm?" There was a quiet fwoosh, and Axel's face came into view. "What's wrong?"

"That's what I want to know," said Roxas. "You're being a major zombie today. What's on your mind?"

Axel smiled. "A zombie? You're one to talk. What about a couple of days ago? Who was the zombie then?"

"Don't change the subject," said Roxas. "This isn't a couple of days ago. This is today. And when it was a couple of days ago, I told you what was bothering me."

"Nothing's bothering me," insisted Axel.

Roxas wasn't buying it. "You said you trusted me. Was that a lie?"

Axel turned his face away. "That's not it," he insisted. "I wouldn't lie to you."

Roxas narrowed his eyes into a skeptical glare. "Look me in the eye and say that."

Axel forced himself to turn his face back to Roxas. "I wouldn't lie to you," he asserted. "I'm fine." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, dropping his gaze to the floor below. "Yeah, okay, I've got something on my mind, but it's just a memory."

"So tell me about it," said Roxas, his voice softening. "I want to help you."

Axel shook his head. "It's not that I don't trust you," he insisted before Roxas had the chance to protest. "It's just that talking would make it worse, all right? I'll tell you about it someday."

"Do you promise?" asked Roxas.

"Yeah," said Axel. "I promise."

Roxas exhaled softly through his nose and reached for Axel's hands. The fire within them died when his own hand wandered too close.

"Roxas?"

"Just come here," said the boy, wrapping his hands tight around Axel's and pulling gently. "Lay on the floor."

"Mind telling me why?"

"You said you trusted me," said Roxas. "So trust me."

Axel sighed audibly through the darkness, but gave no further protest, allowing Roxas to manipulate his body until he was flat on his back. Roxas slid his hands down Axel's palms to his wrists to unlock his manacles and set them aside to make Axel as comfortable as possible before he lied down as well, his body opposite of Axel's, his head by Axel's knees.

"So, uh..." Judging by the sound, Axel had shifted slightly. "What are we doing, exactly?"

"Just lying here," said Roxas. "It's something Mom made me and Sora do when we got upset when we were little. Sora and I still do it sometimes when we need it." Roxas wouldn't have been surprised to learn that Sora had done exactly that after his exile from Sublustris.

"What's the point?" asked Axel.

"To just relax," said Roxas. "Let your thoughts go wherever they want and talk about whatever you feel like talking about. It doesn't have to be whatever's bothering you. Just...whatever comes to mind. We're already doing it."

"Huh," intoned Axel, and then fell silent.

That was where they stayed for several minutes. Just lying there in the noiselessness and the stillness and the darkness. The floor was cold, but not much worse than sitting up had been, and Xion's coat was comfortable enough to cushion Roxas' bones from the stone beneath him.

It had been a long time since Roxas had last done this. Just lied on the floor with someone and forgotten the world. He took a deep breath and tilted his head back, relaxing all of his muscles and staring into the blackened void above them.

"You know," said Axel after a lingering moment, his voice soft as rose petals, "I do a lot of this stuff. Just sitting around and thinking. It's my whole life. Not much else to do down here, you know? So I was just humoring you when you pushed me down here, but...it's funny-it's actually helping."

"Told you," murmured Roxas, a gentle smile tugging at his lips.

"Hmm." Axel's hand slid audibly across the stone floor. "Roxas..."

"Yeah?" Roxas turned his head, now facing Axel's legs.

"I'm, uh... I'm glad you're here."

Roxas laughed softly, but only from surprise, not ridicule. "That was so not you. Where did that even come from?"

"I'm just doing what you told me," said Axel, matter-of-fact. "Talking about whatever comes to mind."

Roxas tilted his head back to where it had been before, with his gaze fixed on the invisible ceiling. "Well, in that case... I'm glad I'm here, too."

Axel didn't respond verbally, but Roxas felt the backs of Axel's fingers brush against his own, and when the touch lingered for more than a minute, he could tell that it hadn't been by accident. He slid his own knuckles down Axel's long fingers, over his calloused fingertips, and back down toward his palm. Axel's fingers curled inward, toward Roxas', linking their hands with two hooks. Somehow, it seemed natural.

When Axel's thumb joined their fingers, stroking absently at the third knuckle on Roxas' index finger, a strange, warm buzzing flooded his chest, not unlike the pinpricks he felt in his hands or feet after he'd had them in a strange position for a long period of time, but more pleasant.

A tiny light flashed around their hands, and the warmth from Roxas' chest rushed into his face.

"What was that," asked a very amused-sounding Axel.

Roxas laughed nervously. "S-See? I..." He cleared his throat, trying to dispel whatever had just made his voice crack. "I told you it makes people feel better."

Riku pushed open the door with one arm, his eyes on the parcels stacked in the other, careful not to drop them.

"Sora, I'm back," he called, his precarious packages wobbling as he tried to close the door behind him. "I stopped by the butcher shop, too," he explained loudly, moving to the kitchen as quickly as possible before he could drop anything. "I thought you could probably stomach something a little heavier than bread, and if you can, I think you need to." He organized the packages on the table, running over the recipe in his head while he waited for Sora to join him in the kitchen.

When several seconds passed and Sora never came, that was when Riku began to worry. He quickly discarded the food he'd purchased and rushed to Sora's bedroom, only to find him completely unharmed, lying on the floor with his eyes on the ceiling.

"Sora." Riku sighed and put his hands on his hips. "What are you doing?"

The boy on the floor turned his head, his cheek pressing against the wooden planks, and offered an uncertain smile. "Thinking?"

"Thinking..." Riku couldn't help responding with a smile of his own. "Sounds dangerous for you." Again, he sighed, and he bent low to offer his hand. "You're going to make yourself sick again if you stay down there. Come on. Keep me company while I cook. And don't forget to grab your quilt."

"I saw Kairi while I was out," explained Riku as he cleaved the meat into smaller pieces, gathering it onto a pile on the packaging paper.

"Really?" asked Sora, pulling his blanket tighter around his shoulders from where he sat in the corner of Riku's vision. "Um, how was she?"

"She's healthy enough, but..." Riku pushed the meat into a smaller pile, organizing it. "She misses you."

Sora sighed softly, giving Riku pause. The sadness in that simple sound brought an indescribable heaviness to his heart. "Kairi..." mused the younger boy, his voice soft and lonely. Dejected. "I miss her, too. I just..." He tapped his feet against the floor. "I wish I could see her."

Riku frowned, for all the world suddenly very interested in the meal he was preparing. It was hard to forget how jealous he'd once been of Kairi. She was kind and pretty and soft-spoken, and she and Sora had always been close. When they were children, it seemed that every adult around them was so sure that Kairi and Sora would be married someday. "It's a shame," they would always say. "Such a pretty girl with a boy like that." And that would only make Riku angrier.

That protectiveness might never have left Riku, and he still needed to stifle the urge to start fights whenever people talked about Sora like that, but at least the jealousy toward Kairi had left him.

Rather, had left him for the most part. There were still moments here and there when Riku felt that same jealousy bubbling up inside of his chest.

"Sora... Do you think you could bring me the cauldron?"

"Sure," said Sora, bright and chipper as always, blissfully unaware of Riku's suppressed envy. He discarded the blanket and crossed the room to the fireplace where the pot sat upon the coals, which had yet to be lit.

Riku's hands paused, stilled by his wandering mind. "How much do you miss her?" he asked, and immediately felt ridiculous for asking.

"Kairi?" asked Sora, grunting as he grabbed the heavy pot and hoisted it out of the fireplace. "A lot," he admitted. "Every single day."

"You're not-"

"What? Crushing on her again?" Sora laughed. "No! No way. I just miss my friend." He turned around with a strained huff. "Besides, I've kinda got my eye on someone else."

Riku's head jerked upright. "Someone else?" That was new. Why hadn't he heard of this before? And since when was Sora able to meet somebody other than himself or Kairi? With the stigma against his mother-not to mention his brother now-people unfairly avoided Sora like the plague. Who had he been talking to enough to enough to develop feelings for? Riku racked his brain, searching desperately for any memory of Sora talking to someone other than himself, Kairi, or Roxas within the past few years, and he found nothing. There was always the possibility that Sora was infatuated with someone based on their looks alone, but...would someone as pure-hearted as Sora really be attracted to someone for reasons so shallow?

"Really?" Riku continued the conversation, doing his best to convincingly hide his alarm. "Who?"

"'Who?'" Sora laughed again. "Oh, come on, Riku! Like you don't- Ah!"

A yelp and a thud was all Riku needed to abandon one worry for another. He whipped around, wide eyed, and rushed to Sora's side. The boy was doubled over, holding onto his foot with a wince.

"Are you okay?" demanded Riku, fighting with panic and guilt.

"Yeah," said Sora with a pained hiss. "I'm fine."

"Let me see."

Sora sighed and hesitantly removed his hands from his foot, resting them on Riku's shoulders to keep himself balanced.

Riku took the injured foot in his hands and inspected it. It was definitely red, and it would most likely bruise. He tentatively prodded at the boy's toes. "Does that hurt?"

Sora yelped and instinctively tugged Riku closer. "Of course it hurts! I just dropped a huge pot on that!"

"But does it hurt like it's broken?"

"No." Sora sighed emphatically. "Riku, seriously, I'm fine. I was just clumsy. It's not like it's the first time I've dropped something on my foot."

Riku's eyes narrowed. This was his fault. If Riku hadn't been so distracted by his own foolish jealousy, he would have remembered that Sora was still recovering, that he might be too sick to carry something so heavy.

"Stop it."

"Stop what?" mumbled Riku darkly.

"Blaming yourself," said Sora. "I've known you since forever, and I know that when you go all quiet like that, you're beating yourself up for something. I was swinging it around and not paying attention. I was the one who should've been more careful, not you, okay, Riku?"

Riku lifted his head hesitantly, and his cheeks turned a faint shade of pink. Sora's face was remarkably close to his own. How could he not have noticed that before? The way they were standing, both hunched over, Sora using Riku to balance himself, of course they were bound to be this close. Riku swallowed hard, suddenly flustered. Sora didn't seem to notice.

"I'm glad you didn't treat me like I was made of glass for once," said the boy, smiling warmly. "It's been months since the last time you actually let me do anything on my own. Don't start hesitating just because I was dumb, okay?"

Riku nodded slowly and released Sora's foot.

The two lapsed into silence.

Sora's smile faltered for a moment, and his head twitched closer, as if he'd contemplated leaning in, but when he stood upright again, smiling the same as he always did, Riku chalked it up to his imagination. He seemed to be doing that more and more lately.

"See?" Sora said brightly, completely unaffected. "I can stand on my own two feet and everything." He released Riku's shoulders to make a point of his own independence.

Riku sighed and shook his head, his own smile returning. "Fine. But stay off of it for the rest of the day, all right? And if it still hurts tomorrow, we're taking care of it properly. Even if I have to do it myself."

"You got it!"

Roxas groaned emphatically as the light died in his hands yet again, far sooner than he'd meant for it to. He'd been trying this for days now, and he wasn't making even the slightest amount of progress.

He flopped back onto the stone floor, disappointed, and the room filled with the orange of flame as his back hit the cold surface below.

"Maybe the memories you're thinking of aren't happy enough," tried Axel.

"That's not it," said Roxas, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "I've tried tons of different memories, and I know which ones make me the happiest. It's something else for sure. I just don't know what."

"Hmm..." Axel shifted, changing the position he sat in to where he became a mirror image of how Roxas had been before he'd fallen back, legs crossed, back slouched. "I just thought of something."

Roxas sat up slowly.

"Show me your hands," said Axel. "Put them the same place you put them when you're about to make a light, but don't make the attempt just yet."

Huffing quietly, Roxas held out his hands like he always did, as if he were holding an invisible ball of yarn.

Axel hummed thoughtfully. "I think I've found your problem. What your doing might work later on, when you're more experienced, but for someone who's learning, your hands are way too far apart. It needs to be focused. Try putting them together like you're taking water from a basin."

"Like...?" Roxas aligned his hands side-by-side, his pinkies flush, palms open.

"No- Here." The light from Axel's hand disappeared, and the room was plunged into darkness.

Warm hands found the back of his own, caressing gently, coaxing them to move.

"Uh..."

"Just trust me, all right?" Axel molded Roxas' hands, overlapping the fingers of one hand on top of that of the other, pulling the hands as close together as possible while still leaving an open space between them. "Try it this way. I think it'll help to pool all of your energy in one place."

"Oh," mumbled Roxas, struggling to focus on Axel's words when all of his attention seemed to want to cling to the warmth of his hands as they held his own in place.

"Give it a shot," whispered Axel, his voice low and sweet. Milk in tea, thought Roxas.

"O-Okay," replied the boy, surprised by his own hesitation. He was nervous, but it was a good nervous. It reminded him of when he was a child and pulled dangerous stunts because his brother dared him to. Like walking into the forest as far as he had the courage to go. Even if he always turned around after passing only three or four trees, he always felt fantastic for the rest of the day. It was a rush, every single time. It was strange how he got that same rush now, solely because Axel had touched his hands.

Roxas didn't even need to think of a happy memory; a faint blue light began to form between his hands of its own volition. It wasn't steady, but already an improvement had been made. Rather than sparking or crackling, it was simply waxing and waning, building and fading.

Maybe he could make it even steadier.

He took a deep breath, and he thought of Xion's smile. Her excitement when she told Roxas that Axel was acting like himself again for the first time in centuries.

The light grew. It still flickered to a fault, like a candle in the wind, but it was stronger than Roxas had ever seen it before.

He thought of Sora, of his warmth and compassion. He thought of what Sora would think if he knew what Roxas was doing right now, that he was happy, and he believed in the deepest depth of his heart that Sora would be happy, too, knowing that Roxas wasn't alone. That he had people in his life who truly cared about him.

The light steadied itself further. It was almost there. Almost a steady gleam. But there was still room for improvement, and Roxas was barely even breaking a sweat. He knew he could make it even better.

Roxas thought of Axel's quiet laughter, of his milky voice, of the way every inch of his skin seemed to buzz with warm electricity when they were near, especially when they were touching, exactly like they were in that moment.

The glow steadied.

For the first time ever, Roxas was actually able to hold a completely steady light in his hands. He grinned, and the pride in and of itself made the light grow. It washed over his hands and Axel's, overflowing and illuminating everything it touched. It soaked into the sleeves of their coats and crawled up their chests. It bathed Axel's face in kind, gentle blue, and Roxas could see every detail of his smiling face. Every imperfection and every ounce of perfection. He could see what he swore must have been pride of Axel's own brightening his hypnotic green eyes as he watched the ever-brightening glow.

Something hot stirred in Roxas' chest, sending a fresh buzz of electricity all of the way to the ends of his fingertips and his toes. His heart skipped a beat, and in place of that beat, the light shone brighter than Roxas ever expected, sending smoky rays outward for less than a second before returning to the translucent sphere between Roxas' hands.

This seemed to catch Axel's attention, and he lifted his head, stealing his eyes away from the ball of light to lock onto Roxas' own.

Something pulsed in Roxas' chest, and he was sure it wasn't just his heart. It was like his entire being was trying to contain a small explosion. He would have gasped, but their air suddenly seemed thick, impossible to breathe in. His heart stuttered inside of him. His head was swimming.

Perhaps it was just because of the lighting, or maybe because of the silence, or the intimacy of the situation, but Roxas couldn't help wondering...

...had Axel always been so...

...so breathtaking?

Something crackled in the corner of Roxas' vision, and he might have wondered if the light had somehow managed to escape from his hands, had he not been so focused on the contour of Axel's jaw as he turned his head.

Had it always curved like that?

Another crackle. Roxas saw it now. Two lights, floating around seemingly of their own mind, like blue fireflies.

And perhaps Roxas might have been more impressed by himself had he not been too busy wondering if Axel's green, almond-shaped eyes had always been so alluring. If his hair had always perfectly framed his face like that. If his collarbone had always been so tantalizingly prominent over the collar of his coat.

If he'd ever seen Axel smile with such sincerity. Such intensity.

With every detail that Roxas found himself picking out of Axel's visage, another glimmer of light joined its precedents. Roxas couldn't care less, but Axel... Axel seemed to be in awe of them, and that just made him all the more beautiful.

How long had these thoughts been burning in the back of Roxas' mind? Why was it that he suddenly couldn't stop thinking about them? What did it all mean?

Axel's gaze caught Roxas' again, and Roxas swallowed hard. His eyes were like tunnels, boring into Roxas' own like that. They reminded him of the way it felt to stand on the edge of a cliff and to look down over the edge, the way it seemed to make him want to jump in. Even when Axel's gaze didn't linger as much as Roxas would like, even when it dropped every so often, though never more than a few degrees south, never wandering further down than a few centimeters, Roxas still felt like he wanted to jump in.

He felt himself lean forward, and maybe it was his imagination, but it seemed, maybe, like Axel was leaning in, too.

The lights around him might have gone out, or maybe they were still there; Roxas would have never known, not when it seemed that all his eyes could see was the man in front of him. He couldn't hear over the ringing in his ears, either. If not for the fact that he'd dropped his gaze to Axel's lips in that movement, following some base instinct, and seen them move, he might never have noticed that Axel had spoken at all.

"Hey..." he whispered.

It took a moment for Roxas' buzzing brain to interpret the sound. "Hm...?" he responded, hardly able to recognize his own voice. It sounded strangely...sleepy.

The one corner of Axel's lips twitched, pulling back into a crooked smile that sent chills up Roxas' spine. "You okay, Kid?"

Kid?

Kid.

The buzzing faded, and Roxas returned to clarity. The fairy lights floating around them began to blink out one by one, like dying stars.

What was he doing? Where was his head?

And why did the word "kid" hurt so much?

Because, Roxas realized suddenly, it's what I am. Axel was probably in his mid-twenties when he got frozen in time like this, and I'm just...a kid.

Of course Axel saw him as a kid.

And that was the only way he would ever see him.

Just a little kid.

"Yeah."

The original light Roxas had made, the one in his hands, began to crackle as it died as well, too weak to sustain itself.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Without even putting up a fight, the light in Roxas' hands died entirely.

"I'm just tired, I think." Roxas took his hands back from Axel's and stood slowly, shaking his head. Axel didn't bother lighting up the room, and for that, Roxas was grateful. He really didn't want Axel to see the shame in his face. "It was too much. I just wore myself out. That's all."

"Yeah," said Axel, his skeptical voice a vice grip around Roxas' heart, draining what it had filled only moments before. "That makes sense, I guess. You made a lot of progress today."

Roxas nodded, not bothering to answer verbally, even when he realized that Axel would have no way to know that he'd nodded when he couldn't see through the darkness.

"Get some rest, Kid."

Kid.

"Y-Yeah... Okay." Roxas took a deep breath, one that seemed to bruise his heavy, aching chest, and carried himself sluggishly to the stairs.

Even with the threat of Xemnas to worry about, Roxas couldn't make himself move any faster, and it seemed like an eternity before he reached his room again.

Unfortunately, that gave him plenty of time to think, enough to realize exactly what had just happened. What had been happening since the day he arrived in that god-forsaken manor. What was likely to keep happening, no matter how much he wished it would just disappear.

Why couldn't it just disappear?

He opened the door to his bedroom slowly, and he'd lowered his hood before he'd closed it behind him.

"Roxas?"

He pressed his back to the door and slid down to the floor, burying his head in his arms.

A cool, gloved hand touched the back of his head. "Roxas, what happened?"

What was the point in answering, even if he did know the answer? And he did. He knew exactly what had happened. It took him weeks upon weeks to figure it out, but yes, he had finally figured out what had happened.

He had fallen in love.

And Axel would never, ever love him back.