CHAPTER THREE

Axel slept for several hours. His consciousness needed… it needed some downtime. The shock of the second teleportation – both physically and mentally – had struck him too hard. Damn. Roxas wasn't pulling his punches.

When he awoke at around three in the morning, groggy and disorientated, it was to the quiet clatter of someone moving about the apartment. The lights were on, piercing his skull, making him groan and grind the heels of his palms into his eye sockets. There was a sudden noise, like something being put down too fast, and when Axel eventually pulled his hands away from his face, he saw Roxas crouched down and peering at him from beyond the end of the sofa. Like he was ready to duck down and disappear if Axel reacted aggressively. And Axel… didn't doubt that he could.

"Hi," Roxas offered from the foot of the couch.

"…Hi," Axel croaked back. Someone – Roxas, he supposed – had taken off his shoes and tossed a rug over him while he'd slept. He shifted heavily onto his elbows and saw the kid tighten, like he was ready to… to unzip himself from the room in a heartbeat. He wondered why that was; why he seemed so suddenly jumpy where before he had been straightforward and almost cocky. "Um. I'm not mad, if that's what you're worried about," he said, before mumbling aside, "At least, I don't think I am."

"You're not instilling me with a lot of confidence," Roxas told him, but seemed to relax anyway. He slowly stood up, tapping a knuckle to Axel's big toe experimentally. "I, uh, I might have pushed you a little hard, a little fast," he said to Axel's socks. "I got mad when you thought I was nuts, and I was… immature about it." This part, he told the ceiling. Somewhere between the two, the person he was actually talking to couldn't help but feel bad for his part.

"I shouldn't have said that to you right after you transported me into an alleyway," he sighed. "Maybe beforehand, sure, but not after." He couldn't help but notice Roxas wasn't looking too pleased. "…Sorry. For implying you were totally insane."

"You know…"

"Hey, how come you know where I live?" Axel asked suddenly, as he looked around at what was definitely his own apartment.

"Oh, I've been following you," Roxas casually said, seating himself on the arm of the couch. "I told you; I'm a messenger of the gods, and you are one."

Axel closed his eyes and held up his hands. "No. I'm not."

"Yup. You are." Roxas plucked at his sock. "You were noticed recently, whenever you're playing your violin, you make the people who hear it feel what you're playing."

He drew a deep, patient breath. "No, I don't."

"You do. You were happy to see me today, and everyone felt it. I know you noticed it."

Putting aside the fact that this guy had just brazenly put himself on some, some pedestal, which had nothing to do with the fact that Axel was now blushing, just slightly, he – he just, that was all just…

…Ah, fuck. He had noticed it, huh.

Maybe it wasn't even the first time he'd noticed similar occurrences. It was just, there was no reason for it before, no language to describe it. "I mean, it wasn't, it's not like I was happy to see you, as such," he felt the need to clarify."I am just a, I'm a nice guy. I just recognised you, is all." Roxas nodded, and he got the distinct impression it was entirely for his own benefit. "But, what – you want me to believe it's because I'm a god?" His eyebrows were up around his hairline. "I mean, come on, man. Give me a little credit."

"I know that's the hardest part to grasp," Roxas agreed, kicking one foot with a slight rhythm. "That's how everyone is, you don't have to worry about it too much just now."

"How – how everyone is?" Axel echoed. "You mean you've done this with other people? To other people?" he corrected identically, hoping that the kid wouldn't notice. He absolutely did. There was a shadow of a smirk there. But, mercifully, Roxas gave him some leeway.

"Yes, there are others. And yes, I have often been the one to alert them to the fact of their godhood. You're the first one whose power I actually think is cool, though," he said, sliding him a sideways look, a small but genuine smile replacing the smirk. "I mean, I've watched you several times, and every bit of your passion that you put into your playing… it reaches everyone around you. They walk past you feeling better about themselves. Better about their day, better about the world. That's the kind of power your music has on people."

Now Axel was definitely blushing, but he was also feeling awkward. He pulled himself up to sit cross-legged with the blanket across his lap. "I mean – thank you, that's a really nice thing to say. And I have no idea how you are able to, to do what you do, you are like…" He shook his head with wonder. "Some kind of whole other type of person. For real. But me? I am definitely, definitely not. I don't do what you do. I'm not a god."

"Oh, I'm not a god," Roxas corrected him. "Like I said earlier, I'm just a vessel. A messenger. I can do my teleportation, but that's just for the sake of the gods themselves. If there weren't any gods, I'd just be normal."

"So you're not," Axel said, "but I am, in your opinion. Because you can like – zip and unzip space, whereas I play music that makes people happy. You know, the way music is… supposed to." He tilted his head. "You see where I'm going with this?"

"You're different," Roxas said simply. He hopped off of the couch and resignedly opened the fridge. "I really cannot believe you have nothing but beer and expired eggs in here."

"Oh, shit, I've been eating expired eggs," Axel mumbled. But back to the topic at hand. He pressed a thumb and forefinger to his brow, where an ache was beginning to take up residence. "No, but you can't just say 'you're different' to me and have me believe you, can you see how that's not really working out for me? I, for example, have ample proof of you looking a shit ton like a god, even if you yourself say differently. Whatever, you're the one who would know, right? But you cannot say that I make people happy with my music and that that makes me a god. Don't you think? Like, logically?" He was almost pleading at this point. Please, godlike person – recognise a regular guy for what he is.

"Logic doesn't really come into it," Roxas conceded, but firmly, like he was making a point. It took Axel a moment to realise that it really was the point. Logic didn't matter.

"So what does?" he wearily asked.

Roxas pinned him with his gaze, moving across the room to sit beside him, just the slightest bit too close, close enough to make Axel's heart rate start to pick up. When Roxas then reached out to take his hands, his squeezed his eyes shut, expecting a spatial unzipping. But then he realised Roxas was straightening out his fingers one by one, and opened his eyes, looking down at him, who he would swear was slightly flushed, or maybe that was just a hope that it was mirroring his own. Roxas pressed their hands together, his hands smaller than Axel's, those long musician's fingers making it even more pronounced. They were sitting across from each other, hands like this, for an eternal minute before Axel was finally able to make eye contact.

All at once the world dropped away, He saw himself as Roxas saw him – with a dim glow deep inside, an ember of what was once something… great, and ancient, and powerful. Something which had been a ruler, a guide, a presence in the lives of people dead for centuries upon centuries. A being who had been worshipped, had temples erected for, who had been prayed to. Something older than civilisation. And it was – him.

"…nnnnnnnn…" He became aware that he was making a sound, which finished off firmly as, "…nnnnnnnope."He snatched his hands back and shook them, as if the banish the electricity that had shot between them between time and the atoms themselves. "Nope, nope, nope. Uh-uh." He was up on his feet and restless, antsy, pacing the apartment while scowling and forcefully shaking his head. "Nope. Not me. No." He stabbed a finger in Roxas's direction. "That – that was not me."

He opened the fridge so hard the door slammed into the wall. He grabbed out the last two beers, and proceeded to open and chug each until both were drained and he was gasping for breath. He leaned against the kitchen counter, desperately holding himself up by its feeble edge.

"You're right, you know," Roxas told him gently. Axel glared at him fiercely, questioningly. "Technically, that wasn't you. You're not a god, it's just the easiest way to get people… ah, accustomed to the idea…" He was beginning to wither under the intensity of Axel's gaze. He clarified, "You are the reincarnation of a god."

"Oh, well then, problem solved?" Axel replied incredulously. He pointed at the sofa. "What the fuck was that, Roxas? What did I see? What did I - feel? I…" He dug his hands into his hair, as if keeping his skull from fragmenting apart. When Roxas touched his hands, he winced, just like the last time. The smile Roxas gave him was understanding, and he held on. "Look, I get it. We're standing here in your kitchen, holding hands, and you're a reincarnated god, and I'm a messenger. There are other reincarnated gods, but you can worry about that later." He squeezed Axel's hands. "Right here, right now, you're just you."

Roxas let Axel tremble in his grasp, before being asked, "What am I?"

"Your first name was Lea. Lea was the god of fire, and passion."

"Are you flirting with me?" Just. Somebody shoot him, please. But there was literally no other response to being told you were a god of fucking passion.

"Sometimes," Roxas nonchalantly said, and without a beat continued, "That's where your musical prowess comes from – your passion, and that passion is passed along to all who hear it. With your violin, you could make people weep in the middle of the street if you wanted. You could make them kill each other. You could make them fall in love."

"I've never cause any of that in my life!" Axel screeched, before remembering it was extremely early in the morning and that he had neighbours. More quietly, with the full force of utmost politeness, he asked, "So what you're saying to me... is that I am – the party bard?"

Roxas burst out laughing. Axel waited, as the blond cackled away not giving a single shit about the neighbours, until he was settled by a firm squeeze of their still-clasped hands. "I really do like you, Axel," he said warmly, and for an instant they were just… two guys. Face to face. Basically the biggest stumbling block a relationship could have just out in the open. Axel felt the heat his hands within his own, and gave them another, more experimental squeeze. Then, alas, reality kicked in, and he reluctantly let those hands go.

"I'm not a god," he muttered, without any conviction whatsoever. He had, after all… seen it. Seen it himself, remembered and forgotten a thousand lifetimes in the smallest fragment of time. He understood now. He's not a god. He's the reincarnation of a god, among the last, tiniest flutters of an energy source so vast it could have risen mountains before it dissolved into the ether. "Bu t then, so what if I'm a reincarnation? Did I really need to know any of this?"

For the first time, Roxas hesitated. He then, poorly, feigned surprise and grabbed his phone out of his pocket. "Oh, my god, would you look at that? My mom's been messaging me, her sister's best friend's niece I met once when I was three years old is in the hospital, I had better go see how she is!"

And bam. He. Was. Gone.

"You little shit," Axel said to the empty room. "That is… so unfair." He wondered if there was a song he could compose that would make certain blonds become rooted to the spot. Then, he wondered what exactly you could do to a person who was rooted to the spot, and started blushing too fiercely to continue that line of thought. "Well, shit," he mumbled. He didn't even know how to contact Roxas. So now, whether he liked it or not, that was all the information he was getting. Ah, hell, it was probably for the best. God only knew his mind had… so much more than enough to churn over right now. Maybe Roxas's vanishing act had been an act of mercy. But –

Yeah, well. 'But'. There always was one, wasn't there? And Axel had felt one hell of a 'but' behind Roxas's sudden exit. He couldn't even worry about what the fuck it could be, because he had no idea what was going on.

Ah, shit. He needed to try to get an hour's sleep before his day began. The hectic world of couriering stopped for no one. Neither man, nor god.