If there is one thing Roxas definitely is, it's stubborn.
This extends to all aspects of his life: his taste in food, the books he reads, and even the simple matters of the heart (he would argue against having one of those).
Needless to say, he came into this world stubbornly, and against all odds – a by-product of a soulmate-less pair.
That must have been his first clue from the universe that his luck with fate would be a dark, bottomless, stubborn pit.
The second clue should have been his friendship with Sora, which was a constant comparative test of his own personal morals.
They had met as young boys, exchanging blows with styrofoam swords during recess, before graduating into regional Struggle clubs once they'd realized they had a knack for hitting each other. It was a natural progression in their friendship. One that he was grateful for considering he'd spent the majority of his fledgling years quiet and withdrawn, forced to be hogtied and dragged out of his own iron shell. Through Sora, Roxas had met the majority of his friends. So, really, Roxas was indebted to Sora for many things.
One of these was simply existing in Roxas's world. For all the years he had known him, Sora walked life as if he were a bright light. Anyone near his orbit was consistently blessed with gravitational energy. He was a walking sun, and Roxas was desperate for that bit of warmth.
But wherever Sora was, Kairi was there too.
It's not like Roxas ever encroached on that space before. Despite overlapping friend groups tied together by Sora, Kairi had always been this far-away concept, swallowed by Sora's orbit and completely unreachable. He wouldn't even stare for too long, lest he be obliterated by Sora's blinding light.
But, Sora would never; he was far too nice for anything like that.
And that's exactly the point.
Roxas tosses his gummiphone, turning over on his side. It thuds softly against the carpet floor.
The prospect of struggle practice tomorrow looms over him like a dreary stormcloud. Perhaps if he tries hard enough he'll get smothered by his pillow, he thinks.
He decides not to think about this until tomorrow morning. But the impending doom of having to face the situation plagues him throughout his dreams, all melding into one nightmarish slumber of red hair and blue eyes.
He doesn't sleep a wink.
Unfortunately, tomorrow morning arrives faster than he wants it to.
He dresses mechanically, skipping breakfast, with only one goal in his mind – to fix the problem. It shouldn't be too hard. Castle Oblivion and their algorithm make matches on the daily, probably hundreds by the minute. They're bound to make some kind of mistake. Technology can't be completely sound.
It's decided. He will go back to the facility, politely inquire about the results, and they'll take care of it.
They'll take care of it.
Like a dead body, Roxas thinks happily.
As it turns out, Castle Oblivion cannot just take care of it.
"I just need a redo."
"I'm terribly sorry sir, but the results are final." The front counter tech half addresses him, as she types away on her computer.
Roxas's patience is wearing thin. He woke up at the ass crack of dawn, with little to no sleep to come to this overly presumptuous funhouse, all while trying to stomach the guilt of potentially stealing his friend's girl.
Not the ideal morning whatsoever.
He sighs, letting the air deflate him. He glances around the lobby. A security guard, who looks just as sleepy as Roxas feels, is posted by the entrance. There are several patients of varying ages sitting on the lounge chairs. Some are flipping through pamphlets, others scrolling on their gummiphones. He even spots a few kids, tugging at their parents' pants, as if they can also sense the sinister vibes of this place.
Poor suckers, he thinks. They have no idea what they're getting into.
Roxas returns to the counter tech. He leans against the desk, elbows crinkling the pamphlets displayed on the table. The tech's eyes twitch only just a little.
"Look, have you ever been in deep shit?"
The profanity finally gets the tech's full attention; there's an impatient flare to her stare.
"Sir?"
"Well, I have. I am currently in deep shit," Roxas says. "I have a match that's wrong."
"Matches are 99.99% accurate."
"You're not listening." Roxas leans further. The pamphlets beneath his elbow creases further. The tech's eyes dip down to them. "I have the wrong match. I need it fixed right now."
"I can assure you our algorithm has a rigorous AI component that filters out –,"
"It needs to be fixed!"
The shout causes the visitors surrounding them to stir. Roxas feels eyes on him. The metaphorical spotlight is heavy, pressing down on him, imploring him to get to his point.
"What I'm trying to say is," Roxas says, each word punctuated with an irritable pause, "I have a match that's not – that can't be. So, I need you to do whatever it is you do on your machines and control, alt, delete this shit."
The tech stares at him. Roxas is not sure if she's going to laugh or hit him. But he hopes he gets the urgency across.
The tech sighs, before bending down to rifle beneath the counter. For a joyous moment, Roxas knows what hope is. It's a beautiful spark that warms him from head to toe. It's that first sip of hot cocoa on a bitterly cold day of playing outside. Sweet, hot, chocolatey hope.
Roxas, however, also knows disappointment. It's a sharp stab that twists the second the tech straightens and hands him a goddamn pamphlet.
Soulmates: The Five Step Plan to Overcoming Denial.
"Sir, if you'd like, I'd be more than happy to schedule you for a free consultation at a counselor's seminar. It's proven to have 99.99% accuracy–,"
"If I hear 99.99% accuracy again I'm going to take this pamphlet," Roxas crushes the flyer in his hand, "and 99% guarantee shove it up your ass!"
The tech balks, as he tosses the paper over his head. It's not that Roxas has a bad temper. He'd even go so far as to say he's calm and collected most of the time. Really, the only one who ever seems to drag any personality out of him would be Axel. And that is saying a lot.
So Roxas cannot help the immediate regret that hits him as the tech shrinks behind the desk. This whole thing has got him acting like a deranged lunatic.
A heavy hand claps down on his shoulder, making him buckle.
"Alright, that's enough." The security guard has materialized at his side and begins to steer him down the lobby. Roxas tries to shove the hand off, but his grip is tight, digging into his sweater.
"This is all a scam," Roxas blurts out. All apologetic feelings get tossed out the window. "You know that right? They can't possibly know who your soulmate is."
The security guard looks unimpressed as he guides him out the electric door.
"Look, kid, there are better ways of dealing with this than shooting the messenger."
Roxas opens his mouth to argue, but the guard holds up his gloved hand.
"I'm just sayin', you're not the first person to come yelling about their matches. You won't be the last. You're the one who opened up this can of worms, not the people in there." The guard juts a thumb to the doors that have closed behind them.
Roxas huffs. Another wrench in his plan.
Really, what plan?
The time for planning had been destroyed the moment he got his test results yesterday. His fate was sealed when he signed off his rights to any semblance of a peaceful life of blissful ignorance. Now, it's just consequences.
It's no use.
Bleary-eyed and more sluggish than ever, Roxas trudges down the familiar paved road of Twilight Town.
The sun peers over the rising buildings, bathing him in a morning glow. This is his favorite time of the day. Just early enough that the sun hasn't decided how bright it's going to be, and the remaining darkness from the night before dilutes into a faded pale blue. The world isn't awake yet. The bustle of the town hasn't reached the streets. It's the only time Roxas feels he can think.
Except now his thoughts are very much preoccupied. Instead of the practiced drills he should be running through, all that seems to come forth is red hair, a bright smile, and flowery perfume. It's even more worrisome that the fleeing thought of groveling to Sora and pleading for forgiveness is weak in comparison to the image haunting his sleepless night.
His stomach churns.
Also, he's starving.
Consequences.
His gummiphone beeps, alerting him to a new message. The name that appears on his screen makes the sinking pit in his stomach drop further. Sora.
Hey, still on for practice?
A small part of him hoped Sora had forgotten, and refrained from sending a group text, notifying everyone of the practice time.
The evidence is there though, followed by the many other names listed on the Contact line. Kairi's name, in particular, is first, promptly followed by his. An ominous sign.
He can get through this practice. He will get through this practice session. In fact, he may not even have to speak to her. Maybe this entire thing could be salvaged by ignoring her. Not even so much as a glance. For all he knows, she's probably just as mortified by the entire thing.
He tries to shove the disappointment down at the juvenile logic.
Practice, according to the series of spam texts Sora has sent, is set to begin in an hour. Roxas checks his gummiphone again. Great.
He has time to kill. Which roughly translates to more unregulated panic and brooding, panic again, along with some more brooding.
He considers calling Axel. If there's anyone that could take his mind off things it was his best friend. He might even have a few words of wisdom for this trainwreck.
Roxas tries to summon up his image, throwing around a few words to bring the subject up. The small spark of hope is crushed the moment he pictures his best friend's smug face.
No.
Axel is off-limits.
It pains him to admit that the first, ideal person to go to with this type of situation would be the last person he can actually approach – Sora. He'd know what to say. Sora had a way of putting everyone at ease. But how could a person be at ease when you've ripped their soulmate away from them?
Sora is definitely out.
Roxas is completely alone in this. A trait he'd usually wear like a badge of honor, but now, he can't escape the dread. He's alone, and he's never felt this goddamn lonely.
He fishes for his gummiphone, fingers enclosing around the chipped plastic. The urge to flick open the Castle Oblivion email, rifle through the message, and click the link to match correspond is strong. He could…
No. He can't. He can't.
With a growling stomach, Roxas plods off to the empty courtyard they'd spent years of practice at.
He's way too early. There's no equipment set up yet. Sora's friend, Riku, is usually the one in charge of hauling all the clubs to practice. And Roxas's friend, Hayner, brings the practice dummies. Sora, of course, has the talent.
Yet, standing alone in this empty courtyard is a thousand times better than being holed up in his bedroom, fighting off the temptation to open up that godforsaken email. Not that it matters much. After the hours spent glaring at the test results, he practically has it memorized already.
But he's here, alone, with nothing to do besides ruminate over things out of his control.
So, Roxas decides to start stretching. No harm in warming up...for an hour.
He does a few reps, slowly getting into the rhythm, and putting all of his focus on the tight pull of his muscles.
If there's one thing that can take his mind off the entire thing, it's Struggle. He's good at Struggle. Always has been. It's arguably the reason he and Sora even became friends in the first place after all of those hours spent playing pirates. They'd picked up a club and the rest was history.
Of course, Sora had been the better dueler. Another thing he was better at.
Roxas grits his teeth, bending down to get into a push-up position.
No.
He's not going to think about it. Not when he's nearing 15 reps. Not when he's finally focused on the exercise, time slipping away.
He's got to work on distributing his weight more evenly, adjusting his shoulders, and straightening his back.
He nearly gets lost in the repetition. Nearly. He's just finished up another five when he gets the distinct feeling of being watched. It might be the paranoia from this morning, being the unintentional center of attention for all of those onlookers at Castle Oblivion.
He ignores it, shifting into a plank position. He's barely on his elbows when a voice interrupts him.
"Oh, you're here."
Roxas nearly slips but throws his arms out to catch his fall. It should be embarrassing how quickly he recognizes the voice. The soft lilt and cadence circle each word, catching his attention as if his ears have just perked up like some pathetic animal.
He peers over his shoulder and the first thing he sees is red hair. The little tingle that grows in the pit of his stomach irritates him.
"It is struggle practice," Roxas grunts, rising to stand. His chest is pounding, but he tries not to show it. He counts to three in his head before finally coming face to face with Kairi.
Now, contrary to popular belief, Roxas isn't blind, nor is he arrogant enough not to acknowledge that Kairi is — well — attractive. Of course, she is. Conventionally speaking.
He's not an idiot.
But the observation becomes annoyingly apparent as she stands there and waves. His face begins to warm.
"You're super early. Practice doesn't start for another," Kairi checks her watch, "half hour."
He holds back the snarky comment from forming. It's too early. His stomach is growling. And Kairi is the last person he wants to see. But she's here, staring up at him with her head tilted in that familiar way she does. Not that he knows these things, because he doesn't. It's not like he's noticed Kairi giving Sora the same kind of attentive stare whenever he's regaling her with his latest tales of buffoonery.
Roxas will admit he is feeling rather buffoonish though.
"I like to practice early."
Okay, not a complete lie. Not the entire truth either.
Kairi twiddles her thumbs, which he begins to find distracting. Small, slender fingers with mint green nail polish and a tiny black, glossy ring on her index finger.
"Just stretching," Roxas deadpans.
Her mouth quirks, as if she wants to laugh, and Roxas is suddenly intrigued with the curve of her mouth. He hadn't really given it much thought before. Then again, he doesn't think he's ever been this close to Kairi to even notice. She's got a small dimple on her right cheek.
"I was actually hoping you'd be here," she says.
"It is struggle practice."
"Right. Yeah, I know." She chews her lip, causing the small dimple to disappear. Roxas is struck with the deepest urge to see it again. There's a tiny flush across her cheeks, almost unnoticeable had he not been standing next to her. Or it could've been the loose, messy bun she's wearing, giving him a full unobstructed view of her heart-shaped face. It's the type of updo he knows she usually reserves for a lazy, middle-of-the-week kind of look.
She couldn't sleep either.
He blinks, almost irritably, refusing to meet her eyes. This day really can't get any worse. Soulmates. No breakfast. Girls. As if to make matters worse, Kairi seems to want to rip this whole thing off like a bandaid.
"I got my results yesterday. You're my – we're a match, right?"
It's the way she says it, tone wobbling with uncertainty, that makes Roxas look at her again. He doesn't miss the way she skips over the big S-word though. Probably for both their sakes. He should feel relieved by it all, but he can't help swallowing the stab of disappointment at the dismissal.
"Yup." He punctuates the P, making an obnoxious pop. It falls flat between them. Not that he expected Kairi to laugh, but he was hoping for it, for the tiny curve of a smile.
Kairi is silent, fidgeting with her hands. Roxas realizes that she's nervous, perhaps more than his own racing nerves. A rush of foolish chivalry hits him.
"It could be a mistake." He regrets it the moment it comes out, which is so stupid.
"A mistake?"
Roxas shrugs again. "Sure. How can the algorithm really guarantee a match?"
He's getting PTSD flashbacks from this morning of the Castle Oblivion tech. He opts not to mention his frantic visit.
He leaves her to her thoughts. Probably a wise decision because people begin to trickle in. Hayner joins them, lugging practice dummies under his arms. He's thankful for this abrupt reprieve as he steps away from that awkward conversation to help Hayner set up. Kairi must take it as a little breather as well because she doesn't attempt to approach him during their preparations. At least, not until after he sets up his last dummy.
"You really think it's a mistake?" Kairi full-on frowns, the dimple disappearing completely. Roxas kicks his feet, turning away from the sinking disappointment that frown gives him.
He can't read her tone. Roxas doesn't delude himself into thinking he knows the inner workings of her mind. This is probably the longest conversation the two of them have ever had, besides exchanging polite pleasantries.
Roxas peers over her shoulder, and for a moment he fears that Sora will catch them in this compromising position. Not just Sora, but the many mutual friends that'll see them together.
Roxas catches Hayner peeking at them, but he quickly turns away.
Get it together, we're just talking.
Even then, the two rarely were seen alone together. Roxas wracks his brain trying to remember the last conversation he'd ever had with Kairi.
He might've asked to borrow a pencil once.
"You don't?"
Kairi's frown deepens.
"Does Sora know?" It's a question that's been burning at him since he received those test results. He knows the answer before she even gives it.
"I haven't said anything yet."
Yet.
The word is dangerous, full of unspoken hope that pools in Roxas's chest. Stupid.
Soon the courtyard fills up with familiar faces. Any opportunity to continue the conversation is stolen when Sora turns up with his own equipment bag. Of course, he did, Roxas thinks bitterly.
If anyone was going to become a professional Struggle champion, it was Sora. And a would-be champion needs his own personal club.
Sora's arrival has almost the same effect as dawn breaking. Whatever quiet everyone mutually agreed upon is tossed out, as the bustling chatter follows him. There are loud greetings, and Sora's name fills up the courtyard. Sora, of course, stops to greet everyone. His goodness spreads wholeheartedly. It feels like a big zit growing on Roxas's forehead.
"Hey guys! Gang's lagging behind." Sora is chipper, which only confirms Kairi's words. He drops his bag at his feet, as he reaches them. "You're early." He claps Roxas on the shoulder, reminding him eerily of the security guard who hauled his ass out of Castle Oblivion.
Sora is stronger than he looks. Not nearly as tall as the guard, nor as bulky, but the weight of his hand almost makes Roxas buckle.
Roxas's smile is tight. "Just thought I'd stretch a bit."
"And Kairi, you're early too." Sora blinks in shock. "What are you doing here?"
"Going over Struggle strategies, you know, if I ever pick up a club." Kairi winces.
The absolute worst liar. Roxas makes a mental note to never come to her to commit a crime.
"I was giving her some pointers," Roxas says.
Kairi shoots him a look. Relief, probably. He nods once in acknowledgment, a tiny one, hopefully, unnoticed by Sora's confusion.
"Awesome. It's not every day you beat me to the arena. This one is definitely not a morning person." Sora chuckles, as he throws a casual arm around Kairi. To her credit, she looks embarrassed and guilty, as she giggles. Roxas supposes it's a cute sound, coiling in his ear, inviting him to look.
But Roxas says nothing. The silence feels so loud. Sora, ever oblivious, smiles between the two of them.
It doesn't take long for the others to arrive in the courtyard. It takes even less for practice matches to break out after they create a tournament table on the lone chalkboard.
Roxas is paired off with Axel, which he's only partly grateful for. For one, Axel isn't even at practice yet. Two, Axel has a habit of riling him up and playing into his slow temper. Which, okay, is actually his own fault.
The first match begins – Hayner vs. Seifer. Given Seifer's affinity for dirty cheating and Hayner's petulant insistence on do-overs, Roxas knows the match is going to be a long one. This gives him a chance to properly warm up with a club. It also allows him to create a wide berth between him and Kairi.
However, it seems as if she's distracted enough by having Sora there. He studies them from across the court. Sora says something funny that has her bringing a hand to her mouth to suppress the laughter.
Laughter that is too far away for Roxas to hear properly.
Objectively speaking, Kairi's laugh is pretty pleasant. Roxas has ears, obviously. It's almost musical, petering out until another round hits.
It would be a nice sound to get used to. It would be nice to be the cause of it too.
A stab of guilt hits him at the thought of even toying with indulging in that.
No, he could not afford to even consider it.
But who wouldn't? It's Kairi.
It had been a whisper. A tiny, wispy little thought that came and went like the low tide of the islands. But he never truly entertained it. Not seriously.
She'd always been Sora's friend. Sora's girl. His person. He'd laid claim on her back in their childhood days of playing pretend princesses and pirates. They had even shared a Paopu fruit. If that wasn't the entire definition of a soulmate, Roxas didn't know what more was.
They're the perfect pair, and Roxas is a stain on that pretty little picture.
But –
He swallows thickly, peering over at Kairi again. Roxas knows Sora must have said something stupid again because Kairi's laugh is unabashed.
That was before all of this. Before the algorithm. Before Roxas had foolishly waltzed into Castle Oblivion with the hope of a sweet summer child.
More dramatics.
Kairi's eyes slide over to meet him, over Sora's shoulder. Her smile slowly dies.
Before Castle Oblivion, there wasn't this. This awful weird tension that Roxas is slowly suffocating under.
He bows his head, feeling that silly flush on his face.
Roxas's moment of peace dwindles away when Sora gears up for his match. Of course, it's against Riku, which means Kairi is left to her own devices. That's perhaps the most dangerous thing to do. Roxas tries to keep himself busy on the opposite end of the courtyard, six feet apart at the very least. But he knows he's only delaying the inevitable.
His eyes roam the courtyard, watching as Sora winds his shoulder, preparing for the second round. Riku shifts into position, holding his club over his head. The only thing missing in this picture is the person cheering them on in the middle.
"Castle Oblivion guarantees 100% accuracy," Kairi says as a greeting, sidling up beside him. Roxas would be lying if he said he hadn't been hyper-aware of her every movement and knew she was coming to talk to him.
"Actually it's 99.99% accurate," he drawls. If he has to hear that percentage one more time, he might really just throw himself off the clock tower. "And it's wrong. I went to Castle Oblivion this morning."
The admission should have come out more forceful, but it sounds pathetic coming from his mouth. Whiny and childish.
"They basically said the same thing," he mutters. "But I stopped trusting them when they tried to shove a soulmate psych ward session in my face."
He hasn't meant for it to be funny, but he notices the quirk of her lip again. It's stupid how quickly the pride flames in his chest.
A silence falls between them, filled only with the background noise of the busy courtyard and the thwacking of clubs as Sora and Riku begin their match. Roxas watches for a moment, taking in Sora's form. It's a new style he's trying to incorporate, relying more on defense and dodging rather than the standard offense. He's quick on his feet, Roxas will give him that, and it helps that Riku relies on brute strength, making him slower.
He should have noticed at the start of the match, but Kairi has split his attention. To make matters worse, it seems as if he's not the only one unfocused today either. Sora's eyes drift over to them every now and then. Guilt forms immediately in the pit of his stomach. He even takes a step back for good measure.
"Look, you guys have a good thing going on," Roxas says. He nods toward Sora. Kairi's eyes follow. The frown comes back. Roxas really should just shut up.
"Sora?"
"Kairi." He hates the way the guilt manifests into something lighter as he says her name. Something fluttery and airy. "The guy worships the ground you walk on."
"Sora is just nice, and we're friends," she says, crossing her arms.
At this, Roxas laughs. It's not meant to be callous, but he regrets it the moment it falls from his mouth because Kairi's frown deepens. Kairi's posture slackens. Eyebrows pull together.
"Do you really think that?"
He doesn't have time for this. Irritation builds the more he stands there trying to convince her that his literal arch-rival is in love with her. He wipes his face, dragging it down his cheeks, and sighing.
"Anyone with eyes can see it."
Let her stew on that, he thinks.
Sora and Riku's match is beginning to wrap up, he can tell. Riku's getting tired. Sweat is building on his forehead, he's gritting his teeth, and his movements have slowed considerably. Sora, ever so confident, throws the occasional jest.
Finally, in one fell swing, Sora makes contact with Riku's thigh, knocking off the struggle balls from their pouch. A sharp whistle blows, reverberating through the courtyard, and everyone breaks out into a cheer. Even Roxas manages a few claps. It was impressive.
But Sora is always impressive, much to Roxas's envy.
Sora wastes absolutely no time helping Riku up, dusting him off, before ambling over to them. This is it, Roxas thinks. This is the make-or-break moment.
What's the worst that could happen?
Sora can kick your ass.
No, Sora was too good for that. Plus, he'd probably do something far worse and far more debilitating. He'd get the girl and have the unflinching ability to make Roxas feel like shit by being the best guy around.
Fuck.
As soon as Sora reaches them, he lifts Kairi up and swings her around in one of those movie-moment hugs. To make matters worse, it seems a crowd naturally begins to form around them. Someone elbows Roxas in their attempt to get closer. He slowly gets sucked in by their friends, fading behind the cheers and the soft giggles that fall from Kairi's mouth.
He got another actual laugh out of her.
Well, that's to be expected.
It's better this way. It's easier for him to slink off before anyone notices that he's even there. This is what he wanted.
That moment of thinking lasts for about one minute before he hears his name being called from the very center of the group.
Sora waves him down. He's finally let Kairi down, but his arm is still snugly around her shoulder. Roxas waits impassively, as the pair approaches him. The crowd, of course, naturally parts for them.
"Hey, you're up next right?" Sora gestures over towards the tourney board.
"Yeah. If Axel ever decides to show up."
"I can fill in for him if we need to," Sora says.
The challenge is tempting. But he briefly glances towards Kairi who crosses her arms. He can't exactly read her expression, but the challenging fire burns out immediately.
"Nah, it's alright. You gotta be tired from your match. That pivot move was nice."
"I knew you'd catch that." Sora laughs. A friendly bump to his shoulder that makes him feel even more like shit for wanting to fight him. "Nothing gets past you. Didn't I tell you, Kairi? Stealth sneak eyes."
Roxas meets Kairi's eyes again. She looks away first.
It's a blessing and a curse that Axel chooses this moment to stroll up into the courtyard, incredibly late, with an overpriced and over-sugary coffee drink in hand.
"I have arrived, no need for the red carpet." He drops the coffee into Sora's hand. "A gift for my tardiness."
"Oh, no, he really doesn't need that –," Kairi begins.
"Sora needs all the caffeine he can get," Sora says. He tips the cup back, knocking it a few times, before pulling away with a grimace. "Empty."
"I got thirsty on the way," Axel says. Sora swirls the empty cup in his hand. Then a big-bellied laugh falls from his mouth.
"You got me!"
Roxas frowns. He would've hit Axel for that, especially considering he's missed breakfast and is running completely empty while dealing with his own internal panic over the thought of soulmates and friends. But that's the difference. Sora lets things roll off his shoulders. Including empty coffee cups.
Could he not tell it was empty, Roxas thinks dubiously. Maybe he had anyway and accepted the gift with grace. Another act of good faith.
At this rate, Roxas may as well keep a tally of why Sora is inherently more deserving of a person of all good things in life. Including the girl at his side.
"Probably a good thing," Kairi says, nabbing the cup. She wrinkles her nose, and Roxas catches a glimpse of the name Hedgehog Master scribbled on the side. "Sora's already chugged a can of Hi-Potion on the way over here."
Roxas's stomach growls enviously. Even a sip of that acid piss of an energy drink would've helped tie him over.
"You ready Roxy?"
"Stop calling me that." Roxas shoots him a glare. He heaves the Struggle club over his shoulder to stop him from whacking Axel over the head. To his credit, Axel takes a leap backward, cackling.
"Just trying to get you properly riled up. Worried yesterday's visit got you too soft?"
Roxas falters, the club slipping. He can feel the curious stare burning into the side of his now-red face.
He wouldn't.
Roxas knows Axel can be an asshole, but he wouldn't stoop this far.
Would he?
No, no of course not. Axel doesn't even know Roxas got a match. He'd neglected to reveal that piece of information before he panicked and ran for it.
Doesn't leave a very convincing impression, though, Roxas muses.
"You got this Roxas!" Sora cheers. Ever supportive.
Roxas's eyes slide over to Kairi who's also sporting a spooked expression. Axel's careless words leave an air of uncertainty between them. Whatever distance Roxas suspected grows by the second.
"Come on K." Sora's voice pulls him out of that reverie. "Roxas is up. Wish him good luck."
It all feels so childish and embarrassing. He doesn't miss the way Sora practically had to push her to say anything directly to him, dragging her feet.
Kairi clears her throat. "Good luck, Roxas."
What's more childish is the way his stupid body wants to glow from the inside out. Warmth flows down to his fingertips, urging him to do something, anything, to reach out. Should he shake her hand?
Is that appropriate?
"Thanks."
Roxas doesn't look back to see if she's heard him. If he looked back, he's not sure he'd be able to properly concentrate. Axel follows closely behind after he's picked up his weapon of choice. Struggle chakrams.
He can hear Sora's distinctive whoop to his right, and without turning, he knows she's watching. And look, it's not like he's not used to being stared at, especially in the middle of a fight, but he can feel Kairi's eyes tracking his movements. The thing is, she's not even being subtle about it. He almost has half a mind to turn and glare at her. It's as if the knowledge of those test results has opened up a new unwanted world for him. A world in which the entire reality quiets down and he's amplified focus on one person.
Roxas shakes his head, swishing the silly fantasy away. Axel steps into place, tossing the chakrams in his hands, with that same silly grin.
If he focused on Axel's stupid face he wouldn't have to think about Kairi's not too far. Or the way Kairi smiles, first fighting back the small tilt of her lips. Or the little curve of a dimple that he's now privy to. Or even the –
Ugh, stop!
Roxas falls into his signature stance, knees bent, two hands gripping his club.
This isn't the time for that. He needs to focus. Sora had made quite the spectacle with his newly adopted form. Roxas is not going to let him completely show him up.
The whistle blows and off they go.
Immediately, Roxas aims for a sweeping cut. But Axel dodges, almost effortlessly. An obnoxious chuckle trails after him, leaving Roxas slashing at the empty aftermath.
"You're distracted," Axel says as he approaches again.
Roxas tightens his grip on the holster. "And you're an ass. Fight me."
"I'm feeling charitable today." Axel weaves around another heavy swing. Roxas nearly stumbles from the momentum, but Axel catches the scruff of his shirt pulling him back. "Maybe I'm tired of fighting."
Roxas scoffs. It's not the first time Axel has said something this annoying, especially mid-duel. As of late, his friend had expressed a disinterest in Struggle. It is the first time, however, Roxas really doesn't have the patience for it.
"We whack each other with sticks until one of us drops all of their balls. What do we get out of this, besides the gory triumph of violence?"
"It's fun to hit people." Roxas swings again. Axel spins away with a chuckle.
"Crossing paddles and dropping balls. Sounds pretty gay to me. Is that what it is? Is my whole struggle career mounting up to this moment of realization?"
"You're gay, you are literally gay. No realization. No struggle," Roxas says with gritted teeth. He adjusts his grip, calculating the best angle to charge. Axel barely pays him any mind. In fact, he looks about two seconds from performing a monologue.
"I don't have time for this, Axel. Fight me."
"You're not my type Roxy. I have a soulmate now, got it memorized?"
At the mention of the forbidden S word (forbidden now that Roxas has deemed the word far too dangerous to even think of now), anger grows in his chest, enflaming whatever panic he's been trying to stamp down. He doesn't think, not as he charges forward and aims a hard downward chop.
A loud clang of their crashing weapons rings through the arena as Axel blocks. He puts up an effort, and Roxas notes smugly, grunting as he holds against the hit.
"I know I'm a redhead," Axel says, pushing against Roxas's weight, "but I'm not exactly your type either."
Roxas shouldn't do it. But he can't help it. His eyes move of their own accord, darting to the very thing he'd been actively avoiding. And he'd been right. She is staring. There's that feeling again as if the entire world has been submerged into an entirely new reality. The scrape of their weapons fades away, and the noise and chatter of the people vanish, replaced with the rapid pounding of that silly organ pumping away merrily in his chest.
"When were you going to tell me little miss Princess was your soulmate?"
Roxas tears his eyes away in a panic. He tries to back away but trips over his own blubbering feet. Axel uses that blunder to his advantage and knocks him flat on his ass.
The struggle balls burst from his pouch, flying all across the arena. His club leaves his hand, rattling off the stage. It's too late to scramble for them. Axel has him cornered, chakrams held up against his defenseless self. He expects a triumphant smirk from his friend, a teasing remark, but he gets none of that. Instead, there's a look of pity.
Roxas hears the sad, defeated bounces before the blow of the match whistle.
It's over.
How mortifying.
There's a loud chant of Axel's name. He performs a dramatic bow, before reaching down to help Roxas to his feet.
Roxas moves to pick up his club, along with the balls before they roll off into oblivion. He's about halfway done when someone squats beside him.
"Axel wasn't playing fair, getting in your head like that before the match," Kairi says, handing him a ball. A moment of quiet staring passes by them. It's infuriating that for all his quiet observations, Roxas still cannot tell what is running through her head.
He takes the ball from her, shoving it in his pouch.
"Didn't do anything illegal," Roxas says. "Axel just likes to mess with me. It's what –," Roxas pauses, and has to swallow down the big pill of giving Axel a pass, " –friendsdo."
Kairi is quiet for a moment. She hands him another ball.
"Does he know?"
Roxas mulls over his words. "I think so."
"What do you mean you think so?"
Irritation floods his system. He closes up the pouch and stuffs it into the pocket of his pants. He reaches down to snatch his club, hoping she'll take the hint and walk off. But she's right at his heels.
"Hey!" She grabs his arm, forcing him to stop in his tracks. Fingertips squeeze his forearm and he nearly rips it away from her. An electric surge pulses up his arm, heating up the very flesh she's touched. She snatches her hand back, alarmed.
Does she feel it too?
A small flush blooms on her cheeks. She rubs at her face with the very same hand that was on him a moment ago.
"Sorry, I'm just — I don't know what I'm doing," Kairi says, running a hand through her hair, ruining the messy bun. He watches as it falls back into place, perhaps even making it more attractive than before. Disgusting.
"You think I do?"
"No, no, of course not."
"Don't overthink it," Roxas says then. "Actually, let's just not think about it at all. Or ever."
She straightens up and tilts her head. He nearly flushes at the sight.
"Roxas."
A little shiver runs up his spine. He really should just ban her from saying anything about this, as well as mentioning his name. It does nothing to quell the racing nerves.
"Is it worth ruining everything over something as trivial as soulmates?" Roxas finally says.
Kairi's face is impassive. A stone, cold clean sheet that's weighing heavily on him. If only he could make her see reason.
"You really think that." It comes out much more like a statement than a question. Roxas was never a fan of rhetorical questions anyway.
"Yes, I really think that," he says.
Kairi lets out a low breath. She runs another hand through her hair. He really wishes she'd stop doing that, lest he keep staring at her hair. Red hair. Not quite as bright or obnoxious as Axel's flaming hair. More of a toned-down warm shade, chestnut. He's sure if he'd tried he'd be able to find the shade up on the clock tower, watching the sunset.
"Ok, ok then," she says. "Can we - I mean - we can still stay friends then, right?"
It's Roxas's turn to sigh heavily.
"Let's be real, Kairi, were we ever really friends to begin with?"
A/N: I might've forgotten I had this posted up on ff too... so if this is your first time reading, you got that back to back update. nice.
I'm over on ao3 bc it's not ugly. come say hey: ta_pk