To those who recall me, welcome back. To hell. And to all the joys that that may bring. I'm a medicinal stoner now, with all that that may also bring. I love you all 3 I've missed you.

To those who are newer readers, hi there. How's it goin'. I'm going to tell you a story, and I hope you'll enjoy it. Have some fun. Come along for the ride. I hope that at the end of it, you'll feel a sense of completion and satisfaction. I hope you'll be entertained, because that is all I ever want.

Enter this story with the caveat that I have not played Kingdom Hearts 3. I also refuse to watch it online. I will play it myself, someday, when I get a new playstation, but this means that you lot must adjust your thinking back just a little ways, to KH2, which came out only some several thousand years ago. KH1, KH2, BBS, like about half of DDD, and about three quarters of UX are my sources. So please, indulge and forgive me my outdated characterisations. And, as ever – have fun reading 3

CHAPTER ONE

Axel's eyes opened as the first touches of light hit his half-open window, birdsong still sleepy in the breaking dawn, blinking blankly up at the gloomy ceiling for a long moment before muttering, "Fuck." He swung his long, skinny legs out of bed and allowed himself a long yawn, stretching out a kink in his neck as he quietly groaned and willed his body awake. He grabbed his phone as he shuffled to the bathroom but otherwise ignored it as he placed it on the countertop, relieved himself, washed his face, and rolled his neck, holding his gaze in the mirror. Patting his skin dry with a small towel, he wondered again if his decision to get tatts under his eyes when he was seventeen was such a great idea after all. It was all fun and games being the hottest guy at the party for a while as a kid, but now as an adult, needing to be taken seriously for the first time, he was concerned that maybe –

BZZZ. BZZZ. BZZZ.

The sudden sound of his alarm going off a full twelve minutes after he'd woken broke through whatever thoughts had been swimming, and he quickly tapped it off, giving his face one last scrub before tossing the towel away and unlocking his phone, wandering back down the hallway to his room as he scrolled through various social media alerts that had built up overnight. He tossed it onto the bed to get changed, grunting against the cold hitting his skin as he shed his night self and readied himself for the day to come. By the time he had finished off his eyeliner, messages had started coming in from the early crew who were up at the same time as he was – the baristas, the would-be actors, the nurses just getting home – and he rapidly communicated with one hand while the other prepared and fed a bowl of cereal into his mouth in record time. He grabbed up a violin case from beside the door and was out before the rattle from his dishes hitting the sink had died away.

Taking the stairs rapidly, passing nobody at this early hour, he pushed out into the chilled, early air and took a deep breath, puffing it out in a vapour that dispersed rapidly in the newly-risen sunshine. Walking around to the edge of his building, he unlocked a high-speed bicycle from its rack, clipped a helmet over his beanie, and set off at a steady pace towards the city centre. Biking through the city was as natural as breathing, sometimes. He'd never been one of those recreational cyclists, but there was something about the fluid strength and speed of it that was starting to make a believer of him. Of course, it might have happened sooner if it wasn't his literal job. Spending his day at an extremely high pace ferrying packages across the city as a courier cyclist was often too fraught and tiring that by the end of the day the last thing he ever wanted to feel against his ass again was a goddamn bicycle seat.

That was when it was time to bring out the violin, which had spent the day at work in his locker, hopefully waiting as eagerly as he had been for the moment when it would emerge, by the side of whichever road took his fancy in the moment. Together, they would sing. They would dance. They would be lovers, and adversaries, best friends and long-time fighters. And for a brief while, Axel was completely free. Nothing mattered but this melding of man and song, wrapping around and around one another in a never-ending, enchanting chase for who even knew what. Then, before he knew it, he would open his eyes and night would have fallen, and it was time to cycle home.

This was Axel's daily routine, or as close to daily as he could manage. On days off, it was all he did, moving from street to park to courtyard. Always a public space, somewhere he could open his case and pretend he was here to make money, instead of the true indulging of passion that it was. He wasn't just doing it totally for nothing, however – his current goal was to try out for the city orchestra. It was a smaller, lesser-known one, but still one acknowledged on the national stage, and therefore with potential to someday reach further shores, or at the very least open up new opportunities elsewhere for him. But really, all he wanted was to play. It didn't matter if the city orchestra was as far as he went, so long as he could devote himself to it. It was all that filled his head, day in, day out. When he was cycling, there was music playing in earbuds. When he showered, it played in his head. When he slept, it flowed through him like wine.

Until one day. One day, with work concluded, violin under his chin, he became aware that someone was giving him change. This was a fairly uncommon occurrence in the first place in an increasingly cash-based society, but then he made eye contact with the gifter and for a split-second, between heartbeats, Axel felt a familiarity so strong he was moved almost to tears. His music changed abruptly, expressing the emotion without him even noticing, as the blue-eyed, blond-haired young man who'd dropped the money gave a small smile of encouragement, and continued on, carrying his takeout coffee from the nearby van. Axel's playing didn't miss a beat, but his eyes had finally been torn clean from music, and he watched until the mystery guy was gone from sight. Only then did he suddenly pause, needing to bend over and take several deep breaths as he clutched his bow and violin close and felt his heart pounding against his ribcage. What the fuck had that been? What had happened just now?

He looked down at his violin case, at the gleam of coins scattered by the young man. Something… something had just happened. He didn't know what, or why, or, or how, but… but suddenly he wanted to go home. He felt it sweep over him with the deepest of conviction. He needed to get back home, right now.

He quickly scraped up the change from the case and pocketed it, placing his violin gently in place and locking it in place. He became aware of the chill of the afternoon, rubbing goose-pimpled skin under his shirt sleeves. Keeping an eye out for traffic, he pedalled home, able only to properly breathe once the door was shut tight behind him.

What the fuck.

He yanked out his phone and quickly tapped out a message, waiting a long moment before it started to ring, greeting the caller with, "It was insane. I can't even begin explain it, Dem."

Demyx laughed tinnily, a poor connection. "You didn't see an angel though, Axel, I'm pretty sure I can promise you that."

Axel shook his head, forgetting his friend couldn't see him. "No, man, I'm serious. He even kinda looked like it. He had that look to him – uh, what do they call it?"

"What do they call it, Axel?" Demyx sounded so amused that he was starting to feel sheepish.

"It's – it's churro-something. Churl. Cherub? Cherubic! He looked fucking cherubic."

Again, Demyx laughed, more breathlessly this time, like he was laughing too hard to draw enough oxygen. Eventually, Axel heard a wheezy, "Cherubic!" echoed back at him and rolled his eyes, starting to chuckle. His head dropping, it became full laughter, until the pair of them were just a crackling connection of incoherent noise.

After several minutes, slowly, carefully, Axel caught his breath without any further gurgles fighting their way out, while on the other end Demyx, too, was attempting to regain his composure. "You might be in love," Demyx suggested, to which Axel snorted, opening his fridge in search of a beer.

"At first sight? Yeah, right." Popping the can he found open, he took a sip and said, "You know that's just chemistry, right?"

"So, maybe it was chemical. Like was he wearing a particular – cologne? Or deodorant?"

"Demyx, I did not have a chemical love response to some dude's deodorant."

"Pheremones, then," Demyx proposed. Axel drank his beer for a long moment, staring at his violin case across the room, until Demyx asked, "Uh – Axel? Are you still there? Can you hear me?"

"Yeah, sorry. Sorry, Dem." Axel shook his head with a laugh, as if to clear the air and change the mood. "Long day. Lots of cycling. Maybe I got dehydrated or something." He took another swig of beer to resolve this, making sure to belch into the phone for Demyx's benefit. "There, you see? I'm already rehydrating!"

"Thanks! I loved that so much! And I love you for doing it!" Demyx said, like a sarcastic bitch. This was why Axel liked him.

"Sleep well, bitch," he said, knowing that Demyx was on his way to bed for a three A.M shift at the hospital.

"I will if you stop thinking you're seeing angels in the middle of Radiant Garden."

"It must have been all the crack in my system, you're right, that actually makes more sense," Axel agreed, then, grinning, bid him, "G'night, Demyx." He hung up, finished his beer, showered while a meal heated up in the microwave, then ate sitting up in bed, hair still damp against his sleeping shirt, back to scrolling his phone. He wondered briefly about trying to find the cherubic guy online, but held back. It felt like a step too far. It was just a momentary thing. Nothing to think too hard about. Certainly not worth being distracted from his goal over; he'd cut practice short because one guy had made his heart jump. He was frowning at himself for that one. He'd have to spend longer tomorrow to make up for it – with the auditions just a month away, he didn't need any reason to fuck it up. If he saw the boy again, he'd just ignore him. Focus on his playing. Not that he would likely even show up again, he was just another face in the crowd.

That's what Axel told himself. It's what he told himself as he lay in the darkness staring into the deep nothing instead of closing his eyes for tomorrow's efforts. It's what he told himself, even though he remembered full well that briefest of flickers of time in which he felt like… like he'd seen a glimpse of home. Real home. Like all of this was a dream, and…

And there was something more important than his violin in this world.

He didn't want those kinds of thoughts. He wanted the music back. It should have been soothing him off to sleep, to those usual dreams of audible delight. But tonight, it was silent.

Tonight, he could hear nothing, because his senses were filled by the memory of the sight of one blond boy.