[PSL] The New Day

[terribletwos]

So much had been going on since Roxas' return that he barely had time to process much of it. Between the final battle with Xehanort, the reunion with the Twilight Town Trio, the surprise trip to Destiny Islands and the general overwhelming and nearly unfathomable reality of his friends' presence, he'd been mostly operating on auto-pilot. Any sense of reflexion he might have otherwise squeezed in was all but pushed aside by Sora's sudden disappearance and the sense of unease and disorientation that followed. The lack of wholeness after months of being completely connected to another person, another self. It left him feeling lost in his own new Replica body and weighed down by a sense of loneliness, despite the abundance of friends, old and new, constantly around him.

Maybe that's why he decided against his typical refuge of the clock tower and instead found his way to the old mansion. Namine was no longer there of course, having taken up Riku's offer to spend some time at Destiny Islands, creating real memories to replace the ones she had invented for herself and Sora's friends. She had told him as much when she temporarily turned down his request to join everyone in Twilight Town. Unlike him and Xion, Twilight Town had never really been a home for Namine, just a place of false memory and regret.

Roxas delays stepping into the mansion, first glancing up at the window where he first got his glimpse of Namine, recalling everything that came after it. All of it eventually culminating in DiZ, no, Ansem summoning him here, where everything was supposed to end. And it would have, if not for Sora. The thought of his Other brings his hand to his chest, feeling the impossible heart beating there.

How is he supposed to explain this feeling of total disconnect to his friends? Even Xion wouldn't completely understand, having never been a true Nobody. Ventus might, but he's catching up with his own friends. And Namine still had Kairi at least.

He breathes out a heavy sigh, as he reaches to pull open the mansion door.

Comments

[hollabastiongirl]

“Okay... I'll stay with you. I won't leave."

Those words bring a shaky grin to Axel’s face as the tight vice around his heart loosens, nodding his aching head once to indicate he’s heard Roxas. It’s everything he didn’t realize he so desperately needed to hear, a bit of that wrenching, hollow space that’s lingered inside him since their parting in the Dark City suddenly filling with soothing warmth. His breath loses some of its raggedness, making it much easier to ask for assistance regarding his hair-tie predicament.

The gentle tugging at his hair feels surprisingly nice despite the practical intention of the motions, Roxas carefully extracting the tie from the tangles and letting loose his wild red mane against the pillow. Axel breathes a soft sigh of relief as some of the pressure around his head abates, nodding yet again in reply to his friend’s hopeful inquiry. “Much better, thanks.” He’ll need to take medication to temper the rest of the pain, but for now this is a marked improvement. He can even think a little better, the haze over his mind clearing slightly. The guilt and embarrassment set in immediately. He’s acting so dumb.

“Hey, I’m okay,” he says, finally having the presence of mind to realize how much this has probably been freaking Roxas out. He gives the wrist still in his grip a mild squeeze, trying for another smile. It’s a bit wan, his skin clammy and pale, but he manages. He doesn’t want Roxas to worry anymore. “I just need to take some medicine and I’ll be fine. Could you grab it for me? It’s in the cabinet over the sink in the bathroom, the mirror opens up if you pull. Orange bottle, has my name on it.”

First thing he’d done when they’d settled into Twilight Town was go and see the local doctor. He’d been getting frequent migraines ever since his recompletion, and the Doc had prescribed him some meds for when they got bad. He’d also scolded Axel heavily to take better care of himself—between all the stress and lack of food and/or sleep, he’s been driving himself to the migraines all on his own this whole time. Seems like he hasn’t broken his bad habits yet.

“Should’ve eaten more,” he mumbles mostly to himself, closing his eyes as he waits for Roxas to bring him the pills. He’d skipped out on most of their dinner last night and also most of his breakfast today, barely managing half of that granola bar. Add in the metric ton of stress from yesterday and this morning, plus the two cups of sweet, hot caffeine on a mostly empty stomach… “At least I got some good sleep. This’d probably be worse if it weren’t for you, Rox. Waking up with you was really nice.”

[terribletwos]

Some of the tightness around Roxas' heart eases at the return of Axel's mostly normal voice. He allows himself to brighten, to form a tiny relieved smile. He might have contributed to Axel's condition, but at least he can also mitigate it. "I'm glad. You had me worried when you crashed like that."

He nods at Axel's comment about medicine, despite mentally kicking himself for not thinking about that. Of course, that's what Axel needs. A potion. How else did they usually heal things? Though, he never really thought of a headache as something you could heal. They just seemed to go away eventually.

It's harder to move away than he expects. The fingers around his wrist still seem too weak, their temperature still cooler than he's used to. And Axel's plea is still all too fresh in mind. Don't leave me. He has to blink past the memory.

But Axel is depending on him here so he forces himself to carefully pull away, still holding onto the freed tie. He absently smooths Axel's hair down with his hand, running his fingers through the ends to ensure no more snags. "No problem. Be right back."

The cabinet is full of much more than he expected. Most of it a lot smaller than the potions he's used to. He doesn't recognize any of the items or the names written on their labels. Though the ones with the profiles of people showing off their extra shiny hair are easier to guess. So that's why Axel's hair always looks so styled.

Thankfully, the orange bottle isn't hidden behind anything. A tiny cylinder-like object with even smaller capsules inside. This is medicine? How long has Axel needed it? Did he take this back when he was still a Nobody? Roxas wouldn't have known then either. How long has Axel had headaches like this?

Roxas grabs the bottle and heads back to the main room. He enters just in time to hear Axel talking about getting a good sleep. He nearly drops the bottle at what follows.

"Waking up with you was really nice."

He twists his fingers around the bottle. It wasn't a bad thing, them being close like that. It really did help. Axel had said something similar when he asked him how he slept too. Though it hadn't been quite like this.

Maybe Axel just enjoyed it more when he was too exhausted to worry about it, to worry about what it meant to Roxas.

"Yeah, it was really... warm. I didn't have to worry about wondering if things were still real." How could he when he could hear the sound of Axel's heartbeat directly beneath his ear? He finishes making his way back to Axel and hands him the bottle. "We'll have to get you a real meal when we're out today. It kind of defeats the point if we're not all able to have fun."

[hollabastiongirl]

“Sorry,” Axel says, expression sheepish and pinched. He feels like he’s been saying sorry a lot lately, but things have been so off-balance with the two of them that it makes a sad sort of sense. He’s got about a year’s worth of apologies to make up for, anyway. And then some. “Didn’t mean to worry you. Brain malfunction. You know how it is.”

He hasn’t forgotten the time in Castle Oblivion where Roxas collapsed, clutching at his head as though it might split. The memory comes and goes like the tide, leaving behind a bitter taste in his mouth as he nods. Roxas’ assurance that he’ll be right back soothes some of the panic that rises in his throat when his friend begins to hastily move away with newfound purpose, but Axel still closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to watch Roxas walk away. He’s not sure when doing so will feel any easier—when there won’t be a moment of fear, cold and insidious like an ice spell blooming in the center of his chest, that Roxas simply won’t return.

He hopes it’s soon.

To take his mind off his uncertainties Axel mumbles to himself, filling the silence with softly spoken words instead of the desperate scream that forever lingers behind his breastbone. He’s already given it too much breath earlier with his choked plea, ”don’t leave me.” Pathetic. He has nothing to be afraid of anymore, at least outside of his nightmares.

Seems as though he’s not the only one with lingering worries and doubts, however. He blinks open his eyes in surprise as Roxas’ voice reaches him from near the bathroom door, his words stirring a complicated knot of emotions in Axel’s gut. On the one hand, he’s thankful to have spared Roxas his usual morning disorientation with their closeness, however unintentional it may’ve been. On the other hand, knowing that it happens to his friend at all is the worst kind of feeling, a sickly twist of pain and sympathy wringing at his heart.

As Roxas approaches with the medicine, Axel carefully sits up, taking the offered bottle from him with gentle fingers. Roxas is speaking again about their plans for the day but Axel is still stuck on what he’d said before—on the idea that normally when Roxas wakes up, he isn’t certain of his own reality. It’s awful. Axel is stricken, staring at the bottle of pills in his hand without really seeing them. “Yeah,” he says in a subdued tone, mostly just so Roxas doesn’t think he’s on the brink of collapse again. “We’ll figure something out. Pack a picnic or something…”

It doesn’t matter. Any thoughts of their plans for the day are secondary to the breaking of his heart, futilely trying to drum up something he can say to help his best friend with the problem Axel didn’t even know he had until now. He should have known. Terribly, it makes sense. It’s a horrible thing, an awful thing to know, but he’s glad Roxas has trusted him with his fragility, heart vulnerable and bare for only Axel to see. It warms him deeply. And he’s going to do something about it. He has to.

Axel looks up at Roxas with fire in his eyes, but of a different kind than before. Not lust, but love. Determination. He won’t let Roxas suffer like that, not if he has anything to say about it.

“Live with me,” he blurts out boldly without thinking, then bites his lip and averts his gaze, cheeks coloring. Damn, maybe try a little tact? He probably thinks you’ve lost your mind. “I mean…if you want, you can stay here with me until we find a permanent place. I know it’s just a crappy motel room, and there’s not enough space, but…you’d never have to wake up alone, wondering. I’d uh, always be here. With you. So. Yeah.”

[terribletwos]

Roxas sighs at the latest in this long line of apologies. "Dummy, you don't have to apologize for that. I just worked myself up because I'm not used to you being the one who gets hurt." He looks down at the floor. "I didn't realize they've been bothering you like that." He knows the pills will probably do their job, but he still wishes there was more he could do for his friend. "If it happens again, let me know and I'll try not to talk so much." It's pretty likely that his endless questions hadn't helped matters.

He sits back down on the bed, not close enough for contact this time but easily within grabbing distance if Axel needs something else. Maybe he'll pick up a book on headaches or something while they're out. Then he'll be able to help Axel more. He half-considers asking Axel to lie down on his legs. Axel had seemed really relaxed when he was working with his hair. Maybe they could do that again?

Those thoughts are scattered when Axel's gaze shifts from something distant like it had been when he brought up feeding him to a pure blaze of emotion. Roxas mouth falls open in reaction to the intensity, trying to form a response.

"Live with me."

"Huh?" What? Where did that come from? Hadn't they been talking about finding a place together this whole time?

Oh, OH. Axel means right now. In the apartment. The thought fills his chest with an entire swarm of butterflies, as he blinks rapidly. He never even considered asking for that. His head feels so light, he half-wonders if it's still attached at all.

But wouldn't it freak Axel out to have Roxas around him all the time, with no way to escape to his own thoughts? He seems to be just fine sometimes. And other times, it's like he can't get away from Roxas fast enough. Like Roxas had turned into a Chill Ripper or one another of the more aggressive Heartless. Why would he trap himself like that?

"... you'd never have to wake up alone, wondering. I'd uh, always be here. With you."

Roxas feels his breath catch. Right, he had admitted that to Axel. He hadn't really thought much about it before the confession slipped out. He had just wanted Axel to know that waking up next to him had been a good thing too. It hadn't really occurred to him how upsetting it probably sounded, hearing that your friend struggled to accept the reality around them at times.

It was always worse at night, when he was alone with his thoughts, no familiar voices or scents to latch onto. Just him and that taunting question. Is any of this for real? Waking up only strengthened his doubts, leaving him disoriented most of the time as he tried to identify anything that would solidify the veracity of this world, to distinguish it from the all too similar data world. Axel's presence, on the other hand, had been undeniable. Nothing in the other Twilight Town ever felt like this. Like home.

He rubs at the back of his hair, unsure how to navigate the clashing emotions within him. The desperate need to take Axel's offer. The fear that it would only make Axel more miserable. The incredible joy of it being offered in the first place. The guilt over the confession that brought this on.

When he looks up, his eyes are wide but conflicted. "Are you sure that's... okay with you?" He hates asking, hates the voice in his head that urges him to do so. He wants to just grab Axel excitedly and agree, as he would have in his Nobody days. But the idea of causing Axel more headaches, more pain forces the question out. "I mean, the not knowing thing is unnerving, but it's not the worst thing I've ever dealt with." That had been feeling Axel's death. "I don't want to make you... feel weird all the time."

He knows he should stop there. That's what he needs to say. Give Axel a chance to respond to that. But the more selfish part of him that had practically been screaming at him to "shut up" is too afraid of losing out on this chance. "But... it was nice, being your pillow. I wouldn't mind staying... if it's okay."

[hollabastiongirl]

Somehow, being lightly chided over his excessive apologies doesn’t actually make Axel feel any less guilty. Especially when he notices Roxas’ big blue eyes leveled at the tacky carpet of his motel room, guiltily downcast. He can’t seriously think Axel’s migraines have anything to do with him, can he? Sure, some of their interactions over the past few days have been…trying, to say the least, but that’s not Roxas’ fault at all. Most of those things needed to be talked about, destined to fester poisonously between them if left unsaid. And this morning…the kiss. All that and after had been Axel’s doing.

He stews in this and more while Roxas fetches his medicine, eyes closed and heart aching. Roxas has the wrong idea about the migraines and he should definitely say something to correct it, but this new knowledge about Roxas’ sometimes-shaky grip on reality takes precedence. It overrides all other concerns in Axel’s mind, actually, his focus narrowing down to a single sharp point that flashes like hot steel in his eyes as he blurts out his tactless request once Roxas has settled down nearby on the bed. He’s completely forgotten about the bottle of pills in his hand, cap left unopened.

Roxas’ initial response of ”huh?” isn’t exactly promising, but Axel doesn’t let it slow him down. Flushed with embarrassment and determination he keeps talking, outlining exactly why he thinks it would be a good idea for Roxas to stay here with him instead of living with his townie friend until they find a permanent place. And privately, he considers that this might be an acceptable solution to his own lingering insecurities as well. If Roxas is living with him already, Axel doesn’t have to suffer through watching him walk away every time Roxas is supposed to go to the place he currently considers home, quietly fearing that somehow, maybe, he won’t come back again.

Of course, there’s definite drawbacks to this plan of his, not even mentioning the fact that he’ll still have to deal with similar fears over Xion. That’s irrelevant. It’s mostly just that Axel is still so off-balance within himself and his own feelings that being around Roxas is difficult sometimes, wanting to sweep him up into a kiss one second and shut the door in his face the next. But even as Roxas gives those doubts breath—looks Axel straight in the eyes and spells out the perfectly logical reason this might be an exceptionally shitty idea—Axel knows his decision is already made. He won’t change his mind.

He hears a voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Isa say, as reckless as ever, I see, and grins widely, defiant. It also doesn’t help to hear Roxas admit aloud that he wouldn’t mind staying, looking shy and conflicted and so damn adorable Axel could cry. Talking about being his pillow, too, as if that’s something he can just say and not expect Axel to melt down into a puddle of human goo.

Well, he thinks, letting loose a laugh so breathless it almost hurts, that’s that, then. No way am I letting him go now.

“I’m more than sure,” Axel says, as sweet and warm as molten chocolate. He doesn’t think twice, reaching out a hand to brush his fingers softly across Roxas’ fringe in a more intimate version of their typical hair-ruffle. “I already told you, Rox. Being around you is the best feeling. Nothing weird about that.”

Everything else, he can adjust to. Hell, it’ll probably be a good way for him to pin down the skill of emotional regulation again fairly quickly. This could be really good him. For both of them.

It could also go the other way, but Axel’s willing to bet on their odds. They’ve made it this far, haven’t they? That in itself is nothing short of a fucking miracle.

“But, uh.” Clearing his throat in a decidedly nervous manner once his brain catches up with his overly affectionate mouth, afraid he’s letting too much show, Axel finally twists off the cap of the bottle in his hand and shakes out two pills. He swallows then down dry with a grimace, voice consequently rough as he continues, “y’know, if you’re more comfortable where you’re at, that’s fine. No pressure. I just wanted you to know that I’d be happy to have you here, if you’d like to stay. That I’d—I would like you to. Stay.”

[terribletwos]

Roxas barely has time to blink at Axel's response before Axel's fingers are shifting his hair, making the butterfly swarm within go crazy. He rides it out, concentrating on the soft fleeting touch, on Axel's words. It's hard to argue with him right now. This really is the best feeling. A little scary, exciting and unbelievably warm. Like the feeling he has just before a battle. Only paired with sensation of comforting arms around him.

"Nothing weird about that."

Maybe he wouldn't go that far. But it's a good kind of weird, a weird he wants to learn more about. Is it the same for Axel? A matter of adjusting? Of figuring out how to embrace these feelings instead of drowning in them?

"Aside from the normal weirdness that comes from being us," Roxas counters through a lopsided smile. "But I think we can deal with that."

He reaches for the hand by his hair and offers Axel a softer smile. "Fair trade for the best feeling, right?"

Predictably, Axel decides he's stumbled over some boundary again and goes back to his medicine. Roxas lets him, understanding by now that Axel needs these breaks to work through his own emotions. As Axel had told him, Roxas wasn't the only one who felt like he was barely treading water in the emotional tide sometimes. Even if Axel had prior experience, it had still been a long time for him.

But while he had been expecting a bit of a backpedal, Axel's attempt to walk back some of his words brings a pinched expression to Roxas' face. Is it that hard for Axel to just tell him what he—

"That I'd—I would like you to. Stay."

Wants.

His eyes widen before a relieved stutter of a laugh breaks from him. Finally. An incredulous smile spreads across his face, as he loses all restraint. He closes his eyes throws himself head-first against Axel's chest, wrapping one arm around him.

"Of course, I want to stay with you." I just needed to know that's what you really wanted.

[hollabastiongirl]

It’s true that their lives have been especially peculiar. He tries not to think about it too much, never one to dwell on serious things. But Roxas is absolutely right; he wouldn’t trade this feeling for anything, not even the most normal experience life had to offer. Axel snorts softly at the absurdity of it all, luxuriating in the sweetness of his best friend’s smile like a houseplant soaking up sunshine.

“You’ve got a point there,” he agrees aloud, flashing his own version of a tender grin, only slightly wobbly at the edges. “It wouldn’t be us without a little weirdness. But that’s okay. Like you said, it’s only fair.”

Although the sort of weirdness he’s giving off now is only going to lead to trouble between them, which is why he redirects himself, toning down the outpouring of affection by backtracking on his words a little. Not to take the offer back completely, of course, just to make it less of a demand and more of an option. It’s a hard balance to find, the line between too much and not enough. Axel knows he’s being confusing as hell, even feels guilty about it, but the erratic fluttering in his chest is made up of more than just love. It’s panic, too—anxiety that one of these days, he’ll come on too strong and send Roxas running for the hills.

Today, apparently, is not that day, however. Today he’s pissing Roxas off with his flightiness, so he tacks on a clumsy assurance at the end of his sentence, just so his friend is aware that he actually wants this despite all the noticeable nerves.

It works, the dark look of annoyance clouding Roxas’ face dissipating almost instantly, a bright, incredulous smile shining through. Before Axel has time to process this complete turnabout there’s a warm body thumping against his chest, one lean, wiry arm hooking around his shoulders. ”Of course, I want to stay with you,” Roxas tells him, and Axel is so damn high off the sentiment that he can’t possibly hope to contain the giddy laughter that bursts from his mouth, one of his own arms slipping loosely around Roxas’ waist to return the embrace.

“Perfect,” he says into Roxas’ hair, the grin stretching his lips so wide and full that it’s painful. His heart gallops wildly in his chest, so close to the object of its desire that it threatens to break free of his ribs completely and nestle itself in the palm of Roxas’ hand, right where it aches to belong. “Welcome home, then.”

And now that Roxas is staying, Axel thinks, even this dreary place can be called home indeed.

[terribletwos]

It takes a lot more coaxing this time for Axel to convince Roxas to let go of him so they can properly start their day. Roxas is too caught up in the warm sensation of Axel's chest, the way his heart batters his chest as though it were some trapped creature. He's sure his own heart is just as erratic, not that he can hear it over the thunderous beat of Axel's. He buries himself more against his friend at Axel's oh so soft "welcome home."

A phrase he never expected to hear. (Not to him, anyway. He's heard the replay of Kairi's words to Sora upon his return to Destiny Islands after the battle with Xemnas plenty of times. Mostly as he tried to wrap his brain around the concept while settled in Sora's conscious.) The very idea of a home had been such an obscure fantasy that he'd never been able to picture it anywhere beyond the clock tower. Home was where his friends are, after all. But this, what Axel is offering him, it feels different. Not just a connection but an invitation. The reminder of a shared dream of acceptance and belonging. (Is this how Sora felt hearing those words from Kairi?)

He grins against Axel and grips him tighter with the one arm. "Yeah, home."

Time had seemed to lose all meaning as he rested there, breathing in Axel's scene of lingering coffee and laundry detergent mixed with wisps of crackling flame. Eventually though, Axel's reluctant reminder that they couldn't meet up with Xion while Roxas was still in his sleeping clothes managed to pull him up and allow Axel to finish up the washing. (Though, he did let Roxas input the cycle, upon Roxas' insistence that he wanted to try.)

Now the day finds them, approaching an only slight familiar clothing store. Roxas is back in his traditional white jacket and baggy pants, although against Axel's new look, he feels especially out of place. Strange since he had felt so weird without his usual outfit earlier. It just seems that Axel continues to slide back into his old life with an ease that Roxas can't hope to emulate. His only foray into normal life had been perfectly scripted for him. Even his memories of the clothing shop are wrapped up in fake visions of visiting it to ask about the photo thief. It actually looks a lot different in reality, a lot more filled out.

Thankfully, not that many people have decided to check it out with them. He's not sure if he could handle a large crowd and the dizzying choices of clothing around him. He probably looks beyond lost as he peers in various directions to take in different sections of the store from the entrance. How's he supposed to figure out what he wants? Or even what he likes? How do people usually know that? Choice itself is such a foreign concept to him, enough that he has to inhale deeply to keep from feeling completely overwhelmed.

He falls back on habit and half-turns to Axel. "Do you want to look at anything?"

[hollabastiongirl]

Coaxing Roxas into starting their day out had been harder than Axel expected it to be, not only because of his friend’s reluctance to part but his own as well. Having Roxas snug and secure in his arms felt too good to just let go so easily, after all, and so he’d indulged himself a little (or a lot). Roxas’ warmth against his chest; the scent of pure sunshine tickling his nose; the wiry arm around his neck holding him close; it proved to be a heady enough mixture to rival 3 straight shots of whiskey, and Axel had let himself bask in that intimacy for as long as he could, only forcing them to break apart when their embrace began to cross that invisible line between just enough and too much. Though whether it was too much for Roxas or too much for himself, Axel didn’t quite know.

No time to dwell on it, anyway. They had things to do and places to be.

Roxas obviously needed a more appropriate outfit to traipse around town in—one he wasn’t basically swimming in—so Axel helped him to finish the laundry (he totally did not think about how cute and domestic it felt as they did so). Once Roxas was dressed and good to go in his usual outfit they were ready to hit the streets, and since Axel wasn’t the one determined to hunt down a new ensemble for this little beach trip, he let Roxas take the lead.

That’s how he finds himself outside the most popular local clothing store a handful of minutes later, watching with subtle bemusement as Roxas wavers nervously just outside the main entrance. Axel is tempted to just come right out and ask what’s wrong, but he has a sinking suspicion that putting his friend on the spot like that might be a bit of a dick move. He’s already clearly overwhelmed. So he waits patiently instead, glancing around at the wares visible from the outside. Eventually, Roxas does speak up, half-turning back to him with a mumbled question about Axel’s interest in shopping here.

Huh. So maybe he’d better take the lead after all.

“Sure,” he says with quick nod, sauntering forward to open the door and usher his friend past the threshold first. “This place is pretty good, although remind me to take you to my favorite thrift shop one of these days. Your wallet will thank me.” Discount clothing stores are a gift that Axel is all too happy to share, even if some people (Isa, namely) don’t appreciate them the way they should. “It’s back in Radiant Garden, but well worth the trip.”

As he heads inside after Roxas and slowly wanders over to the colorful section that initially catches his attention, Axel stops a few times to look over the price tags on specific items with a critical gaze. Not horribly expensive, but maybe slightly overpriced for such basic color schemes and patterns. He’s not overly impressed. Still, this little shopping excursion is mostly for Roxas, and it’s his very first one at that. So when he turns his focus back to his blond shadow after another moment of browsing, he flashes his teeth in a sympathetic grin.

“See anything you like?”

[terribletwos]

Roxas didn't really know much about the popularity of the store. It was mostly faint familiarity that brought him to it, his tendency to stay close to the known when it comes to tackling the surprisingly sprawling city.

Though now that Axel mentions the option for different prices, he kind of wants to see if he can find another. He has some munny, a combination of a bag thrust upon him from a pentant Riku, along with an awkward apology. As much as part of Roxas wanted to refuse it out of sheer pride, he couldn't very well do that with Kairi and Xion watching. (He's pretty sure the idea to give back what Riku stole came from Kairi in the first place. Riku must have mentioned it to her during some reminiscing). He was surprised to realize, upon returning to Twilight Town, that Riku had actually given him more than he took. Guilty conscience, probably. Or maybe he thought it might help him settle in. (Roxas isn't sure which notion annoys him more. Taking help from Riku still doesn't quite sit right with him.)

But it does mean he doesn't have to rely on Axel for his new outfit. Which would be kind of embarrasing. (Even if Axel did pay for their meal last night.) He's going to have to hunt down some of the town's odd jobs again if he wants to pay his share now that they're going to live together.

The idea still lifts his lips in a tiny smile. Waking up together every day, watching Axel's sappy shows, sharing meals together and even learning more about the humdrum domestic things like laundry and cleaning. It feels like he's dreaming. He might even have trouble convincing himself he's not if it weren't for Axel brushing against him to open the door, his cheerful voice talking about his favorite shop. Sora really had given them all something amazing.

His head tilts up at Axel's mention of Radiant Garden. Axel's home. Or was this Axel's home now? He doesn't know much about it, outside of Sora's memories. And a very brief sense of being there before the scientists sent him to join the others at the Keyblade Graveyard. Nothing to really leave an impression. But during their catchup talk before the final battle, Axel had taken him and Xion aside to explain some things. Such as his revival, Ventus and a hasty summary of who the real Xehanort was. Radiant Garden had come up then too.

If it was Axel's home back then, that means it was Saix's too. They probably even shopped together like Roxas and him are doing right now. Though he doubts Saix would have been as flustered as he feels. For all of Saix's faults, he probably at least knew how to be a normal person. Roxas clenches his fist, as he tries to concentrate on staying cool.

"Maybe we can go there some time," he mumbles, torn between wanting to learn more about Axel's past and not wanting to remind himself that it was probably easier for Axel to do all of the stuff they're doing now with Saix. That said, finding a Gummi Ship to take them would be a tall order to begin with.

He follows Axel inside and raises a brow as Axel immediately heads over to the most colorful section in the place. Of course. Now that they're free from their dull black cloaks, Axel has taken to decking himself in much more colorful facades, even though black did still make an appearance more often than not. But colors are a bit of a mixed bag for Roxas. Not only are they unfamiliar, but they remind him how Sora always dressed in particularly flashy ones. When not being dressed by the fairies.

Roxas lifts his head to look around the section more, eventually spying an area with a decent choice of more monochrome colors. He picks up a hooded jacket that's more on the gray side but with that familiar checkerboard pattern going across the chest and red inside the hood. Unlike his usual look, this one lacks sleeves and is apparently supposed to be paired with something. Options include a black long-sleeve shirt with plaid sleeves that would almost match one of Axel's shirts. He can't stop himself from glancing back at Axel. Would that be too weird?

"This one's not bad..."

[hollabastiongirl]

Roxas’ mumbled response to his thrift store suggestion is a little lukewarm, but Axel shrugs it off, figuring it’s probably for the best anyway. For one thing, getting there and back would likely involve a lot of calling around to beg for a ride, and for another, Axel isn’t even certain he’s ready to face the emotional fucking minefield that is Radiant Garden. He’s a little annoyed at himself for even bringing it up actually, silently cursing his own big mouth, but thankfully there are no more words about thrift stores passed between the two of them, both more focused on the shopping here and now.

The jacket Roxas presents to him in response to his question does indeed look promising. Stylish, sleeveless, and something Axel can easily picture on his best friend’s lean frame (although he doesn’t let himself imagine it for long, trying very hard not to think back to earlier, in the laundry room). He’ll just need something to wear underneath it. Maybe a few things, even, if his love for variety in his budding style ends up being anything like Axel’s and their budget allows it. Neither of them are made of munny, after all, and he has a sinking suspicion that Roxas would bristle at the idea of Axel spending too much money on him.

(Even if that same idea makes Axel absurdly happy. He wants to take care of Roxas, spoil him a bit, but he pushes those thoughts aside before he can freak himself out. Sounds a little weird anyway, like he’s trying to be some kind of Sugar Daddy. Gross. Okay, yeah, he’s never thinking about that again.)

“Yeah, man, I bet that’d look really good on you,” he agrees enthusiastically, spinning on his heel to search through the rack of clothes for something to pair it with. There are a lot of options, many he thinks Roxas might be interested in, but Axel ends up picking out one in particular that he finds fun: a shirt in bright red that matches the hood of the jacket, with black, stylized flames spiraling up both three-quarter length sleeves. “Oh, Rox, what about this? If you end up hating it we don’t have to get it, but at least consider trying it on. Y’know,” he adds with a wink, “for me.”

[terribletwos]

Roxas wonders if Axel's silence in response to the Radiant Garden thing is a good thing or a bad thing. Axel had been excited to bring it up. Maybe he should have shown more enthusiasm toward a place special to Axel instead of sulking about what Axel might have had with Saix. Stupid, do you want to make him think he can't talk about the past? He's still Axel, even if there's stuff you don't know. He's talking to you now.

He worries his fingers at the clothing in his hands, as he tries to think of ways he can approach the subject again. But Axel's much more enthusiastic reaction to his clothing question steals those thoughts away. He beams at the praise, eager to try on the outfit and see for himself. It could be fun to show off a little, especially since Axel seems really into this shopping stuff.

Tossing the jacket combo under his arm, he scurries to see what else has caught Axel's eye. He's nearly blinded the the flash of color, totally different from the muted style that had been on the sleeve cuffs of his other outfit. The flames also seem a little overkill. Something much more suited to Axel. He blinks at the outfit in confusion.

"It's kind of... loud." Which is definitely something Roxas has never been, something he was explicitly trained to avoid. Disappear into the crowd, don't let yourself be noticed, don't let them know we were even here. We're Nobodies.

Ugh, why is he still thinking about that? He doesn't have to do that anymore. He can be noticed if he wants. (Not that he really wants to be noticed by anyone except for maybe Axel or Xion.) And isn't that what Axel's saying here? He wants to notice Roxas.

"Y'know. For me."

Yeah. Maybe a change like this could help in distancing his mind from what the Organization and Ansem had drilled into it. Why not go wild? Just to see how it feels.

He replays that saucy wink in his mind, feeling that strange heady rush that comes whenever Axel seems to, well, flirt with him. It makes him want to hold onto that attention as tightly as he grips his Keyblades, even as it makes his stomach give a quick jump.

Roxas musters up his best attempt at a put-upon grin, as he reaches for the outfit. "But I guess I can give you a break from being the one to stand out all the time. I know you're exhausted."

High on his attention, he also grabs a black vest lined in red, along with a white short-sleeved zip-up shirt and black turtleneck to go with it. That should cover his color adventure for now. He gathers all the pieces and looks for an area to switch his clothes. (Since Axel had nearly flipped out the last time he tried to strip in front of him.)

He has to wander through a few sections before he eventually finds an area with a sign overhead reading "Dressing Rooms." That sounds promising enough.

As with in Axel's apartment, shedding his old clothes still feels a bit unnerving. Especially as he replaces them with the shirt Axel had suggested. He's not sure whether it feels more like a costume or disguise rather than an actual new style. Everything feels just a little bit different as it brushes against his skin or hangs on his arms. Should it be so disorienting?

His confidence starts to show signs of cracks, as he exits the room and looks out for Axel. "This feels kind of weird..."

He seems completely oblivious to how the combination of the sleeveless jacket and the tight cut of the red shirt fit his body perfectly, giving him a slightly older appearance. The slimmed down pants are also much more crisp and defined than his baggy variety, adding to the more natural look.

"Does it look like it's supposed to?"

[hollabastiongirl]

“It is tiring,” he jokes impishly, lips curling into a slow, rakish smirk as Roxas reaches out for the top. “Being this cool and attractive all the time takes a lot of work.”

Their fingers brush when he hands the shirt over, and if anything feels loud it’s the explosion of prickly tingles that break out across his skin at the contact, Axel’s breath audibly catching. A little melodramatic considering how mild of a touch that was, but he’ll forgive himself on account of being excessively wound up thanks to their day so far. His libido is understandably going slightly haywire in response, slowly being unearthed from the deep, dark place it’s been hiding the past ten years, and he’s not quite sure how he’s going to handle it. Especially with an unexpected new roommate.

Shame, then, that the two of them had chased off the attractive waitress from Mickey’s yesterday. Going out with her might’ve mitigated this. Oops.

It’s probably best not to dwell on it—any of of it—he decides, making him all the more grateful when Roxas smartly grabs a few more clothes to try on and darts towards the fitting rooms near the back instead of stripping right here in the middle of the store. Just a passing thought about the laundry room incident earlier has Axel steaming a little bit, face hot, so he can’t imagine the repercussions from having to go through it again. He might actually catch fire at this rate, and while bursting into literal flames wouldn’t hurt him, it’d definitely scare the hell out of the few wandering souls shopping nearby (not to mention likely landing him and Roxas both on yet another “Do Not Serve” list). People are already shooting him the occasional curious look as it is, maybe intimidated by his imposing height or peculiar choice of style. He can feel eyes on him even as he walks, heading towards to the fitting rooms to play an audience of one for Roxas’ fashion debut.

Whatever. It’s not like he cares if people stare. It’s like Roxas said—he sticks out like a sore thumb. The exact same thing happened at the diner yesterday, too. Happens all the time, now. He unwittingly demands attention wherever he goes, and if Axel is a little skeeved out by it after so many years of creeping unseen through the shadows, well, no one has to know.

Still, he’s relieved to step into the little alcove in the back where the fitting rooms are, tucking himself slightly out of sight to lean against the wall as he waits for Roxas to emerge. (The proprietor of the shop had been giving him a bit of a stink eye as he wandered anyway, likely profiling Axel as a shoplifter based only on his wild looks. Wouldn’t be the first time someone has (correctly) assumed he’s a troublemaker, and it won’t be the last.)

He gets out his phone to distract himself, although he has only a moment to frown over Isa’s text again before Roxas is hesitantly stepping out from the dressing room, drawing Axel’s gaze to him with a doubtful mumble about how weird this feels and then fussily asking him if his new outfit looks like it’s supposed to. And Axel wants to answer him, really he does. Only he’s sort of too busy staring, eyes dark with a faint flicker of heat and mouth dropped open in surprise. The fit is perfect, slim. But that’s not what’s got Axel a bit twisted up. He just didn’t expect Roxas to look so…different. Older. Handsome.

Mouth suddenly dry, Axel stammers, “u-uh, yeah. It looks great. You’re—“ Unbelievably attractive, his mind supplies helpfully. He doesn’t dare day it aloud. “Uh, very fashionable. Why, don’t you like it? I mean, it is absolutely a new look for you, but I think it really, really suits you.” Okay, that’s maybe enough. He should probably stop talking. He grins to cover how flustered he is, shrugging his shoulders in what he hopes comes across as nonchalance even as his face darkens with a flush of red. “You’ve got more stuff to try on, right? Let’s see ‘em.”

[terribletwos]

Roxas is once more blissfully unaware of the stray thoughts wandering through Axel's head and is even too deep in his self-assuredness to notice the catch in Axel's breath. All he cares about is the fact that Axel is watching him as he picks out the rest of his clothing in advance to finding the place to try it all on. Holding onto that memory and the idea of having that intense gaze on him again helps him through the dressing process. Even if this all feels so disconcerting and almost like an out of body experience, it might just be worth it if he can get another of those special reactions out of Axel, the ones where he looks at him like he's something incredible, something desirable. (Does he want to be desirable? Doesn't the very thought make his stomach clench up?) Well yeah, but maybe he can get used to it too. If it means having something of Axel all to himself.

So when he exits the dressing room to Axel's stammered response and simmering gaze, it doesn't hit him quite as hard as it had in the apartment. He's ready, part of him even basking in the scorching heat of those eyes. It almost startles him to realize how much he's actually starting to enjoy this. The butterflies are still a chaotic mess in his chest, but they're a passing thought to Axel telling him he looks great. That's he's not just traipsing around in some false skin, pretending to be something he's never been. That he fits in this world.

For the first moment since Riku dropped them off in the Gummi Ship, he allows himself to believe that he can truly do this. Can live the life he always fantasized about whenever he watched Hayner and the others from afar. Can blend in, rather than disappear. Can be someone beyond the Key of Destiny. (Can maybe be someone to someone else.)

He quirks a grin at Axel. "Well, it's obvious you like it. I guess that has to count for something." Even if their tastes in fashion aren't exactly aligned. "I wasn't sure if it would look, you know... off on me."

But at the sight of Axel's reddening face and his own steadily growing boldness, he finds himself stepping closer to his friend so they're not quite flush against each other. "You sure you're going to be able to handle another outfit change? This stuff looks pretty flammable."

He half wonders what's come over him. But he has to admit that there's something terribly thrilling about knowing he can have this sort of effect on Axel. He's always known he can coax Axel into just about anything because Axel liked making him happy (for a variety of reasons, some he'd rather not consider right now). But this, this power is different. It's hard to not it go to his head at least a little.

[hollabastiongirl]

He isn’t quite sure which is worse, Roxas’ sly teasing or the wicked little grin that precedes it, but either way Axel’s insides writhe with a wretched twinge of heat that momentarily throws him the fuck off. He’s staring again, open mouthed and incredulous—did…is Roxas flirting with him, he wonders?—until he has the good sense to get ahold of himself and shake it off, resolutely turning away his eyes and attention both before his mutinous body decides to follow through on the urge to crowd his best friend up against the tacky plaster wall and steal the breath from his lungs in a bruising kiss. He aches to do so with a gnawing hunger that surprises him, but he won’t allow it. He’s already learned his lesson today about humoring his Urges, a disastrous crash course he isn’t likely to forget.

Just the way he won’t forget that faint, sweet taste of stolen breath on his tongue from their first ruinous kiss, Roxas’ wide, blue eyes blinking up at him as though through a haze—

Shit. No. Focus.

Axel clears his throat delicately, braving a glance Roxas’ way as his friend muses aloud about trying different clothes. He’d thought, what? That wearing a different outfit would look too odd on him? That they would look wrong on him, marking him as fundamentally different from every other human to walk these same aisles? That somehow, after all the work he’s done so far to cultivate a normal life for himself, he still doesn’t belong? Axel scoffs mildly, picking at a loose thread on the seam of his slacks and trying not to get caught up in either leering or scowling, which is no easy feat. He’s feeling especially expressive today, nerves scraped raw. His grip on the gummi-phone is painfully tight.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he mumbles, catching Roxas’ gaze for one brief, reassuring moment before his eyes flitter away again, back to the thread he’s absolutely unraveling. Damn. He’s going to ruin these pants. “You’re a person. Maybe you’re still finding your style and maybe some stuff won’t be as flattering as…that, but I promise, unless you decide you wanna wear a pink tutu, a coconut bra and roller-skates, nothing is gonna look off about whatever you wear. You’re fine.” Then, with a pout he’s clearly putting on just for show, Axel adds, “And I’ll have you know my opinion on fashion is impeccable. You’re lucky to have me here, you know. Be grateful.”

Roxas isn’t especially grateful, however. Roxas is an actual fucking menace, slipping so close to him that their chests nearly touch—so close that Axel shrinks hard against the wall as though he may be able to phase right through it like a Portal of Darkness if he tries desperately enough. The breath that bursts from his beleaguered lungs is ragged, caught at Roxas’ unexpected words—”You sure you're going to be able to handle another outfit change? This stuff looks pretty flammable."—and his knees are trembling like jello, barely holding him upright as Roxas blinks up through his lashes with those big, guileless eyes. He has to know what he’s doing, doesn’t he? He can’t not know.

“You—“ Fuck, he thinks, do you understand what you’re doing to me? He’s literally steaming, he suspects, the smell of kerosene and woodsmoke wafting from the bared flesh of his shoulders in wispy curls of smoke. He’s going to set off the fire alarms at this rate, and Roxas is still too close. Too close, yet not close enough. Sultry and sweet and tempting like a siren in the guise of an angel, drenched in blond and blue and a halo of golden light so bright that Axel can’t help but be drawn in. He wants to consume it—drink it down like sunlight. He wants to drown in it. He—he needs to get away before he does something exceptionally stupid. He needs—fresh air. Yeah. Air. Anywhere but here. Anywhere that he won’t go up in flames and burn alive, loving every second of it. “Y-You should…buy that. Try on your clothes. I’ll…wait outside.”

Thrusting a munny pouch into Roxas’ hands as a way of apology, Axel makes a hasty retreat by sliding along the wall until he’s free of their proximity, then high-tails it out of the store before the manager even has the chance to shoot him a stink eye for whatever sins he’s imagined Axel has committed. Once outside and around the corner he takes a hard breath, bracing himself against the brick wall with his hands on his bent knees and his heart thundering somewhere in his throat, a frantic, choking cadence he’s having trouble swallowing down. Damn. Damn, he’s still smoking. Roxas is probably really freaked out this time, holy shit. He definitely won’t want to live with Axel now.

Well, so much for that. Nice idea while it lasted.

It only occurs to him after he’s calmed down a little that he must’ve clumsily dropped his phone in his haste to get away, probably right at Roxas’ feet. Double damn.

[terribletwos]

Given that his attempts at teasing Axel had been more or less off the cuff and instigated by Axel's unexpectedly enthusiastic praise, Roxas hadn't know what to expect from Axel's reaction. The open mouthed look is intriguing and definitely enough to make him want to give it another go with his next outfit. Even if it's followed by Axel's usual ruse of averting his gaze. A sort of smug thrill runs through him.

Though it's partially softened by Axel's assertion of his personhood. And that absolutely awful image of himself in something pink. (It's probably for the best he doesn't quite understand the meaning of the other words Axel mentions.) But even if Axel's outlandish exaggeration can't quite hit its mark due to Roxas' lack of reference, it still brings a gentle smile of gratitude. He can't help believing Axel's words. Or at least believing that Axel feels that way. Axel will always see him as a person, and maybe that's what really matters.

He gives a sharp snort at Axel's defense of his own fashion sense. He is lucky to have Axel here right now, just maybe not about the fashion part. "I am. Even if you way too much knowledge about pink tutus," he laughs.

His amusement is cut alarmingly short when Axel actually begins steaming in the wake of his playful approach. Since when did Axel do that? When he made his joke, he never imagined it could be literal. He barely has time to understand what's going on, let alone try to calm things down before Axel is shoving munny at him and slipping into the clothing aisles with frustrating speed.

The pouch feels heavy in his hands. Weighing him down with a new sense of guilt. Did he do that wrong? But that's what Axel liked, isn't it? Isn't it the same way Axel had teased the waitress? Or even the same way Axel had teased him, dropping his tone and crowding in close? Well, Roxas hadn't done the voice thing. He's still not that sure how it's supposed to sound, other than playful and enticing at the same time.

Still, if Axel can do it to him or whoever else he feels like it whenever he wants, why does he get to flip out when he does it? Why can't any of these stupid emotions make sense?

He's startled by the sound of something heavy colliding with the floor a few feet away from him and the clatter of rolling coins. Roxas lifts his gaze to meet the eyes of another customer. The thrown pouch lies gaping on the floor, munny spinning and rolling around it until the coins eventually topple back over.

Swallowing down his self consciousness, he looks away from the customer and starts toward the pouch. His foot lands on something hard and bulky. Roxas looks down to see that he's stepping on a Gummi Phone.

"Whoa!" he skitters back, hoping he didn't damage the device and immediately scoops it off the ground. The screen seems okay. Nothing's broken. He pushes at one of the buttons to make sure the thing still works.

The screen flashes on, illuminating its most recently sent messages.

I miss you, Lea. When can I see you? I’d like to talk.

The name beside the message leaves no question about its sender.

Isa. Saix. Roxas grips the device tighter. His gaze finds the message's timestamp. Saix must have sent it when they were still getting ready. How long has he been trying to get in touch with Axel? He has to resist the urge to mess with the device more to find out. He can't. It's not his, and even if Axel is being really frustrating right now, he's not going to snoop through his friend's stuff. He shouldn't even have seen this message in the first place.

But if the message is from that long ago, why hasn't Axel replied yet? Is it because he's been too busy with him? Or is Axel actually avoiding Saix? Did he really not want to go back to how things were with him? Before the Organization. Hadn't Axel been happier then? He always sounded like it when he talked about that time. What does Axel really want anyway?

He wants to stay with you and Xion. Isn't that what he said?

Part of him feels really confused but also a bit lightheaded. This whole time just the mention of Saix's name or their time together has been enough to send Roxas into bouts of self-doubt or inferiority. Now he's not even sure if Axel wants to see Saix. But with that realization comes a tiny pang of empathy toward his former senior. The message sounds almost desperate, pleading. Saix must be feeling especially ignored to send something like that. As much as thinking about the guy makes Roxas' temper simmer, he has to admit that he knows what it's like to miss his friends...

He needs to find Axel so he can figure out what's really going on. And to get more clarification on when teasing is okay and maybe even what kind. Because this is just getting ridiculous. How are they supposed to live together if Axel's reaction to Roxas testing his own boundaries is just to run? Hadn't they agreed to talk about this?

Roxas shoves the Gummi Phone into his pants and retrieves his money, relieved that the judging customer seems to have cared more about putting distance between them than reporting him to management or something. He'll have to at least finish buying this stuff before charging after Axel. He's still wearing the unpaid outfit. It just sucks that Axel's retreat has chased away any of his enjoyment of picking out new clothes. Even worse, it means he's on his own when it comes to deciding if what he picked out looks any good.

[hollabastiongirl]

After only a minute or two of glaring holes into the pavement and quietly brooding over his own foolishness, Axel pulls himself together, squares his still-slightly-steaming shoulders, and marches right back into the clothing store. The manager’s hawkish eyes are on him the moment he steps back through the threshold, but he doggedly ignores any and all sneers or suspicious looks as he once again traces a brisk path towards the changing rooms. Roxas still ought to be back there trying on clothes, unless Axel’s little fit has put him off the whole thing. Wouldn’t be the first time, probably, but hopefully this is nothing that can’t be fixed with an heartfelt-but-awkward apology and a few timely jokes.

By the time he reaches the cramped little alcove he’s mentally rehearsed his speech several times over, intending to be as contrite as possible without coming off outright flippant. Forced levity can only make the situation worse, he figures, and the last thing Axel wants is Roxas thinking he gets a kick out of jerking him around. The thought is absolutely horrifying. What kind of person would treat their best friend that way? Who would play petty little games like that? Who would open themselves up little by little, flashing tender vulnerability unseen by any other eyes like a lure to reel a person in, only to clam up again the second things get too close for comfort?

A coward, that’s who. And that isn’t who he wants to be. Not anymore.

It’s easier said than done, of course, which is why when he steps up to the closed off door Roxas must be behind, probably still switching outfits, Axel’s throat closes up. His fists clench at his sides, nails biting into his palms. His shoulders have since stopped steaming but inside he burns, simmering from head to toe with all the things he wants to say but can’t yet, if ever. Things about Isa, Lea, and their time Before. Things about his life as Axel, the Organization’s Number 8, Assassin, and the ten long years which were as empty as the hollow of his chest was until Roxas came along and filled it with something more. How it felt to lose that. How it feels to have gained it back.

He wants to tell Roxas about the life he dares to dream of now, usually late at night; one with smiles and laughter and silly little curtains the exact shade of Roxas’ eyes (Axel’s favorite color). A life with healing and light, where the three of them can playfully argue over who gets what room or what to have for dinner on any given night. A home. A real one.

There’s so much that he wants, so much inside of him that it aches. There’s so much inside of him that it’s terrifying, especially since not so long ago there wasn’t much of anything at all.

As he presses his forehead against the grainy wood barrier between them and releases a slow, measured breath, Axel faintly wonders if that’s potentially part of the problem. He’s like a starving man trying to gorge himself too quickly after weeks without a meal, which is all but a guaranteed way to make yourself violently ill. He’s poisoning himself here, carelessly guzzling down every rich drop of emotion as though he might never feel them again. He’s making himself sick—maybe a bit unstable, too. And he’s not just damaging himself with this gluttony, but Roxas, too. Fuck. Axel’s never exactly been a careful man, but now is probably the time to start.

Screwing his eyes shut tightly for only a moment, he takes another steadying breath. Then he reaches deep within himself to find his center, calm and cool and patient, and says after a gentle knock against the door, “Hey, Roxas. You okay in there? Sorry I bolted, just needed some fresh air. Little cramped back here, y’know? Claustrophobic. Got a bit nauseous. Think I even dropped my phone somewhere…”

Clearing his throat, he backs away from the door a little in case Roxas chooses to open it right then and send him sprawling. Knowing his damnable luck he’d fall right on top of that tiny little brat and knock the both of them out. Or give Roxas another panic attack. Wincing at that particular memory, Axel soldiers on with his clumsy, half-assed apology (not the one he’d had rehearsed at all, having long forgotten just what he’d intended to say).

“Uh, anyway. I’m all better now, so. If you’re still up for modeling, I’d like the see the other outfits, too. If that’s okay.”

[terribletwos]

Collecting his spilled munny had taken Roxas longer than he expected, after some of the coins had rolled under nearby displays. He feels a little being on this hands and knees (he's definitely going to have to buy these pants now) to claw out the escaped coins, but the idea of losing any of the munny Axel gave him because of a temper tantrum makes him feel even worse. Axel shouldn't be paying for his stuff in the first place. Not that Axel had given him much time to refuse the offer before running off. (It's not his fault you threw that bag.) He cuts himself off before he can start fuming about his ever confusing best friend again.

After a few more minutes, he's sure he's recovered every stray coin and can head back to the dressing rooms. He clutches the munny pouch close to him just in base he missed any hidden damage to the bag from the toss. His attention is so divided that he almost misses the fact that his prior path is now blocked.

By Axel.

Roxas blinks, as he watches his friend lean against the dressing room door, looking absolutely contrite and miserable. He recognizes the tone Axel speaks with, that even placating cadence Axel adopted when he was desperate for Roxas to listen, to understand. The same tone Axel had used when he was trying to convince Roxas to stop worrying about who he was. "You'll always be my best friend."

But more importantly than that, Axel had come back on his own. Honestly, he had changed his mind even sooner than usual, if he got back here before Roxas had. Even if his excuse was really, really bad. He was clearly trying not to run this time, and that was the important thing.

Despite how frustrated Roxas had been at Axel's sudden disappearance and his total bafflement over Axel's lack of response to Saix, he finds himself quirking a tiny smile at Axel's offer for more modeling. They'll have to talk first of course. He's not up for another escape repeat so soon after the first. But maybe he won't have to do the rest of this on his own after all.

Though, there's also the tiny matter that Axel is probably pouring out all these feelings to whoever had taken over the room in Roxas' absence. Or if Axel is lucky, an empty room. He should probably do something about that...

Roxas folds his arms. "I guess it's okay," He says louder than he needs to, just so it's clear where he's speaking from. Roxas waits just long enough to ensure he has Axel's eyes on him once more (his own gaze set with that far too serious look that only Roxas can pull off) before adding, "I'm glad you came back."

[hollabastiongirl]

It’s terrifically unhelpful that Axel’s overzealous awareness of his surroundings choses this most crucial moment to desert him, but that’s exactly what happens. One moment Axel is stammering out an awkward and stilted apology, eyes fixed firmly on the chipping white paint of the door he assumes Roxas is behind, and the next moment he’s nearly jumping out his skin when Roxas’ purposefully projected voice comes from a totally unexpected direction. His head whips around almost comically as he startles, blinking through confusion and then embarrassment once he realizes he’s (hopefully) been addressing an empty room instead of his best friend. What’s the harm though, really? He looks like an absolute dope, but it seems like his message of peace has been received. The set of eyes that greet his are darkly serious, piercingly so, but there’s a tiny smile that curls Roxas’ lips and looks a lot like forgiveness.

He says, ”I’m glad you came back,” and Axel grins in return, a sheepish twist to his mouth that he doesn’t bother to dampen. His hand shoots up to the back of his head, absently scratching at the edge of his hairline with jittery fingertips. At once he desperately wishes he hadn’t gone with an updo today, if only so he could ruffle long fingers through his hair. It’s an awkward habit, but it’s comforting. Grounding.

Caught off guard but trying hard not to show it, Axel murmurs, “‘course I did,” with a careless little half-shrug, backing away from the door he’s still mostly facing to turn on Roxas directly. This deserves his full attention. Moreover, he can clearly tell he isn’t completely off the hook. Roxas might be willing to forgive, but the defensive way he’s got his arms crossed over his chest and the subtly tight set of his shoulders tell Axel he’s not liable to forget. They’re going to have to talk about it. Seriously. And why not? He’s just loving all of these delightfully tense conversations. What’s one more?

“I really did need some air,” he admits, his own arms wrapping around himself to temper his uncertainty. Bald honesty doesn’t come naturally to him and it shows as he scuffs his boots against the squeaky tiled floor rather sullenly, looking anywhere but Roxas. It’s easier when he shuffles over to the opposite side of the alcove, resting a shoulder on the wall for support. He always feels better with something solid to lean against. One less opening for enemies to take advantage of that way. It’s probably a bit pathetic that he’s still thinking in those terms, but that’s an issue for another time. Right now he’s just trying not to make an ass of himself.

Well. A bigger one.

Sighing softly in resignation, Axel attempts to relax even as he reluctantly decides to meet Roxas’ eyes again. They’re clear and cool and so, so comforting, giving him the modicum of strength he needs to just force out the words already. This is his best goddamn friend. He can talk to him. Communicate. It’s not that hard, and he’s not a fucking coward.

“Listen…I hope I didn’t freak you out earlier. It wasn’t you. Well, it was, but not because—you didn’t do anything wrong. I just wasn’t expecting you to, uh…” Flirt. Tease. Crowd him up against the wall. Look so damn handsome in a basic ensemble that Axel ached just looking at him. God. “Say…what you did. It took me by surprise, and I didn’t handle it too well. Not because I didn’t like it, but because I—did.” Too much. Way too much. Axel pauses with a shaky little breath, biting his lip while his fingers twitch against his bicep. He really wishes his hair was loose. He feels vulnerable; exposed. Has he ever been this direct before? It’s a novel sensation. Enough that he frantically thinks, now please just tell me I didn’t scare you off before I lose my mind. Externally, he manages to keep his cool. “So, that’s why. I should’ve just said so, but hopefully you can cut me some slack. I’m a bit…rusty, at all this.”

[terribletwos]

Even in his partially defensive state, the tightness in Roxas' chest lessens even more at that soft "course I did." A soft puff of air leaves his mouth. He probably should still question whether Axel is just covering himself, as he's prone to do, but he can't bring himself to doubt in the face of Axel's awkward motions. Whether or not Axel knew he would come back doesn't matter. The fact that he wants it to be true matters more. If Axel was willing to fight back against his anxieties, Roxas could cut him a little slack. Roxas has his own confusing anxieties after all.

"Okay," Roxas replies to Axel's insistence on needing air, allowing his crossed arms to fall a bit. He watches curiously as Axel wraps his arms around himself and scuffs his boots, recognizing the actions as something he also does when unsure he's saying the right thing.

He steps closer, his heart getting the better of him, troubled by the sight of Axel looking so utterly uncomfortable. He wants to reach out, to touch Axel's arm, offer some sense of reassurance. His unsettled frustration can't change the fact that seeing his best friend looking so lost and unlike himself still sends icy stabs into his chest. Especially when he wants so badly for things to be all right for them again, like they were before everything.

Roxas feels better when Axel meets his eyes again. There are times when that direct look can be too much, feel like it's boring a steady hole into Roxas' very being. Times when Roxas wonders what Axel could even find so interesting to warrant such an intense look. But not now, the need for answers gives Roxas his control, control enough to withstand that gaze. (As he had during much worse instances.)

The final bits of Roxas' walls crumble at Axel's unexpectedly open honesty. He clears the rest of the distance between them and takes a bit of Axel's lower shirt in his hand, in case other contact makes Axel jumpy again. His eyes study the floor, too many emotions welling up inside him for him to manage looking up. "You didn't freak me out. I was angry more than anything. I just... wanted to try." (Because you like that stuff. And I wanted to see, if it was you, if I could like it too.) He shakes his head. "I can't learn about... this. About myself. If you run every time. It's not fair." Roxas pulls in a deep breath and forces himself to look up again. Frustration has returned to his eyes, along with a sharp determination. "You said you'd tell me if it's too much. So we can figure things out. That means actually telling me. Otherwise, I just think I did something wrong. How am I supposed to figure out what's okay and what's not when you don't tell me?"

He twists the bit of cloth he has in his fist. "You're not the only one who doesn't like being left behind."

[hollabastiongirl]

It’s a stark relief, the way the hastily erected walls that sprang between them recently slowly drop away as Roxas draws near, five graceful fingers daring to cross the invisible border left behind to grasp at the hem of Axel’s shirt. The material gives, so much like Axel does, soft and pliant and rumpled under the nervous ministrations of the boy standing before him with his head bowed. Roxas words are stilted and quiet but no less powerful, impressing their weight onto Axel as though in ink, sinking into his skin like color from a tattoo needle. He feels breathless at once, though the pain that prickles at his flesh is of his own design. His own carelessness landed them here, with yet another promise between them lying heaped and broken at their feet. It’s nauseating, truth be told.

He should be better, he knows that. Roxas expects him to be better. And not only that, but Roxas deserves it.

He also deserves to say his piece, so Axel keeps his lips firmly shut until Roxas seems to run out of steam, daring to meet those beautiful, frustrated eyes as long as he can stand to with a gleam of green-eyed shame in own until they finally drop to where nimble fingers are currently twisting the edge of his shirt. It’s too hard to keep up eye contact when he feels so embarrassed, chagrined to the point of grimacing. He’s really mucked this up, again, hasn’t he? Only just this morning he’d given his word to be more open about his boundaries—his stupid, useless, complicated feelings—and already he’s turned tail and balked. Walked out without another glance, not one word of comfort to soften the blow—

”You're not the only one who doesn't like being left behind."

Axel hisses a sharp breath through his teeth, screwing shut his eyes tightly. He’s greeted by an expanse of darkness like an old friend, the soft, buzzing glow of neon the only thing to break through the drizzly haze of rain in his memory. There, not even two full strides away, Roxas’ back is to him, covered in a long, damp coat of leathery shadow that swishes and drags through puddles as he walks away. He doesn’t look back. In just a moment, he’ll be gone. In less than a moment, Axel’s words will fail to reach him—five of them, heart-felt, said too little, too late.

”No one would miss me.

“That’s not true! I would…”

A hard skip in the tempo of his heart has Axel coming back to himself, blinking away the Dark City in all of it’s gloomy glory as his eyes open and readjust. The steady weight of the wall against his side proves itself especially useful as he sags against it, a sigh slipping through his nervously bitten lips that coaxes the soft smell of sunshine from Roxas’ breath-ruffled hair. It’s a welcome scent, nothing at all like the bitter smell of darkness and rain-dampened concrete. Axel relaxes. He’s not there anymore, he’s here, and Roxas isn’t going anywhere. Neither of them are.

“Yeah, okay,” he finally says, trying for a small smile as he grasps gently at the hand still wringing the hell out of his shirt. The material is going to get stretched out at this rate, and it’s one of his absolute favorites. Stupid as he’s been acting, it isn’t the shirt’s fault. No need to let Roxas damage it, however accidentally. “You’re right, that wasn’t very fair of me. I told you, I’m a bit rusty at this, but that’s no excuse to act like an asshole. I’m sorry. I’ll try harder.”

He means it. He does. He hopes Roxas can see it when their eyes meet again, his own lit with a gentle but firm determination. He’s not going to screw this up anymore if it kills him. Though, on consideration, maybe he ought keep that particular choice of words to himself.

Axel disentangles Roxas’ hand from his shirt with care, the better to thread their fingers together through the gaps meant for him to fill in. Right where his fingers belong, at least as far as his heart insists. That remains to be seen. For now it’s enough to know that Roxas probably won’t immediately pull away—will allow Axel to make use of his remaining limb and drape an arm across those broadening shoulders, pulling Roxas’ warm body to his chest in a loose sort of embrace. It’s not a suffocating hold, one Roxas could easily break free from, so he hopes it won’t cause another meltdown. He just needs it—this closeness. Just for a moment. Just long enough to prove to him, to both of them, that without a doubt, Roxas has always been missed.

“I really did like it, you know.” Axel mumbles through the soft tickle of Roxas hair, having rested his cheek against the silky crown of his head mere moments ago. “You acting that way. I told you, it just caught me off guard.” He chuckles shortly, lips twitching into a steady smile. “Guess you’re better at sneak attacks than I thought, huh?”

[terribletwos]

Roxas blinks once at the sudden touch on his hand. Though perhaps he should have expected it, given how much he's abusing Axel's shirt. The contact is like a cool wave cresting over him and dousing the remaining embers of his temper. Ironic given who brought it on. It's a sign of Axel's commitment to his words, that he's not going to dash off again.

He gives a soft snort. "I was going to say you acted like a jerk. But I might hold onto that asshole thing for another time."

He's sure been picking up more and more colorful phrases since meeting up with a human Axel. Naminé must have left that touch out of her stimulation. If she even knew about the language herself. Kairi doesn't seem the type to use it, but maybe he needs to spend more time around her.

His musings are sent scattering again when Axel moves to solidify his hold on him, intwining their fingers together, like they had done back at the Old Mansion. Only this time the comfort he's offering is entirely different. Not just an assurance of his presence but a confirmation of his desire to keep Roxas by his side. Roxas' breath catches, the full extent and meaning of Axel's feelings for him coming back to him. Further emphasized by Axel's arm loosely falling over his shoulders to draw him closer.

His entire frame tingles as if every nerve has just snapped to awareness at each point of contact. There's that instinctual unease at the sensation, the need to break away and... process. But it's met by a just slightly stronger rush of... satisfaction. Isn't this what he's wanted since everything went sideways this morning? A return to this closeness. And isn't Axel initiating a better sign?

He stares back at Axel, caught between the warring reactions and his suddenly too heavy tongue. It's Axel's words that coax out the smile, hints of pride despite his reddening cheeks. Then a full-fledged diabolical grin, unbothered by the cheek brushing tenderly against his hair. "You sure you should be admitting your weaknesses like that?" He shifts his head to just barely press his nose against Axel's, thanks to Axel's leaning posture. "I'm glad though. I wanted to surprise you."

The exact proximity between their faces registers for him a moment later. As do a handful of memories of Axel's earlier reactions to similar circumstances. Roxas draws away carefully, pressing his teeth lightly against his lip, as his cheeks flare even brighter. "Sorry, probably too close, huh? It's kind of a habit."

Too many days spent all up in Axel's face with endless questions or just general excitement at being able to spend time together in an otherwise monotonous existence. It's hard to remember sometimes that that kind of ultra closeness is supposed to be limited to family or people dating. (People readying for a kiss.)(Does he want a kiss?)

His hand goes to the back of his neck, as he tries to shift his gaze. "A-Anyway, I'm glad we're back on the same page. Want me to try on the rest of the stuff?" Jeez, can he at least stop staring at Axel's mouth for five seconds? It's not like he doesn't already know what a kiss is like. (Though maybe that wasn't the best example.)

[hollabastiongirl]

“Same difference,” Axel drawls, careless in the face of what is becoming a bad habit of Roxas repeating the more colorful words he hears coming out of Axel’s big mouth. There’s no one here to scold him over it anyway, although he can easily imagine their reactions if they were to witness it. King Mickey would be appalled, crying out in his hilariously squeaky voice. Terra might bore him to death with a lecture, or at the very least make him do keyblade drills until he dropped and/or puked. Isa would glare absolute daggers and murmur something about “impressionable minds,” which Aqua would no doubt echo emphatically without a second thought. She hasn’t seemed to be Axel’s biggest fan for one reason or another during the few times they’ve interacted. He can’t quite figure out why.

Kairi, on the other hand, would probably just kick him in the shins until she’d conditioned him to stop swearing so much. He’d taught her well, his wayward little pseudo-sister. He ought to check up on her soon.

Now, however, his priorities are on the newly fashionable bundle of blond nestled in the crook of one arm and huddled warm and comfortable against his chest. More specifically, his priority is trying not to be struck dead where he stands by the slow, evil little grin that Roxas decides to level up at him like the sharp edge of his blade. Fucking hell, Axel thinks, and tries not to squirm as Roxas teases him with jokes of his obvious weaknesses, lightly nuzzling his cute little nose against Axel’s in a way that has him going cross-eyed and gobsmacked, lips parting in a soft gasp of shock (and a little terror, if he’s being honest). Color him surprised indeed. He supposes he should be speaking up about their extremely intimate proximity, but he can’t seem to make words happen. His poor malfunctioning brain is practically frying in his skull.

Thankfully, Roxas realizes the mistake on his own and backs off, mumbling ”sorry, probably too close, huh? It's kind of a habit,” as if he hadn’t just tried to turn Axel’s insides to boiling goo from cuteness alone. Little fucking menace. Roxas really is going to be the death of him one of these days, but man, what a sweet death it will be. God, this kid. If I didn’t know any better I’d think he was trying to get me to kiss him.

“Little bit,” Axel agrees after a tense and breathless moment, still sounding strangled even after some distance is put between them. Roxas at least has the decency to look sheepish, rubbing at the back of his neck in such an endearing way that it’s practically a battle against his own body not to spring forward and catch him in a searing kiss. Which he obviously can’t do. Even though he can’t help but notice the way Roxas’ eyes keep straying to his lips, lingering there with his curious blue gaze…

Ignore it, you idiot. It doesn’t mean anything. You can’t kiss him again. You know that.

He does know indeed. So Axel closes his eyes to it instead, takes a few steadying breaths, and nods. When he dares to open his eyes to meet Roxas’ again he’s grinning, smile only slightly strained. He can do this. He’s okay. And he’s proud to hear that his voice doesn’t waver at all when he says, “Yeah, Mr. Supermodel. Go on then, get changed. Dazzle me enough and I’ll buy you an ice cream.”

[terribletwos]

Roxas isn't sure if he's relieved that Axel snatched at his attempt to change topics or not. But at least it's a chance to escape the surprising thrall of Axel's lips, as he opens the thankfully (for Axel's sake) empty stall to return to the sets of clothing he left there after Axel's freak-out. He knows he doesn't know the first thing about dazzling anyone with clothing, but he's not about to turn down a challenge from Axel either. Especially for his favorite kind of prize.

"Make it two," he quips before shutting the door.

Less of the awkwardness seems to creep back this time, maybe chased off from Axel's dramatic reaction to his last outfit. His mind is less preoccupied with how strange the whole experience is and more with what kind of poses Axel might find amusing enough to hand him his victory. He's so caught up in his strategizing that he's all but forgotten about the phone messages he read earlier. The questions he had been so ready to throw at Axel seem to recede into his consciousness, buried under attempts to dredge up memories of cool poses he's seen from others.

He's not sure of the high collar shirt and simple black vest combo he's chosen. And the loose hooded jacket seems a little too reminescent of his Organization cloak. Save for the gray color and the rolled sleeves that nearly reach his elbow. But when he finally pulls on the ensemble, he's surprised by the semi-casual figure in the mirror. He wonders if this is closer to what people wear when they're trying to blend in rather than get noticed. Unlike his usual rather bright outfit.

Better yet, the pockets look great for carrying things he finds. He can't help snagging little mementos of new places he visits, a throwback to his need to keep everything fresh in his memory. It regretfully reminds him that everything had been so frazzled at the restaurant Axel had shown him that he had forgotten to grab anything there. He probably could have at least picked up a business card from the front. But either way, the new jacket should make it easier to carry more things like that around. Perfect for their beach trip.

He half considers testing his poses in the mirror before deciding that he's overthinking it and Axel's going to think he got trapped in his shirt again at this rate. Which would totally ruin the mood. (What mood?) So he shoves his hands in his pockets and pushes open the door, attempting one of Axel's leaning postures. Success rate is up for debate.

"I think I like this one. It doesn't feel too different. But it's still different enough, you know." Still, it does feel like it's missing something...

He tries not to immediately look at Axel, worried of throwing off his cool presentation. But his curiosity gets the better of him, as always, and his gaze eventually wanders in that direction. Making sure that Axel's full attention is on him. Though this time it's much less about that need for fashion reassurance, despite the tiniest catch in his voice.

"Think it'll work for the beach?"

[hollabastiongirl]

“Two?” Axel calls after his friend with a soft huff of laughter, shaking his head in disbelief. Despite the firmly shut door between them he’s absolutely certain Roxas can still hear him run his big mouth, and thus isn’t shy about issuing a warning in a tone threaded with wry amusement. He may be such a sappy, lovesick pushover that Roxas could probably convince him to buy them ten ice creams each, but he won’t be held responsible for any unpleasant consequences. That’s all on Roxas—the person who so sweetly and naively doesn’t even realize he’s got Axel wrapped tight around his little finger like twine. At least not yet. Lucky for both of them, probably. He’s not quite sure what’ll happen when Roxas figures it out. “You’re the boss, then. Just don’t come crying to me if you get a stomachache.”

That clarified, Axel stalks over to resume his position against the wall opposite of the door, leaning with his back pressed against the cheap plaster and his arms crossed loosely over his chest. It’s a comfortable pose, one he’s settled into dozens of times before, but it does shockingly little to temper the flutter of giddy anxiety taking flight in his heart, frantic like a wild bird trapped behind the cage of his ribs. He almost can’t breathe for the feeling, light-headed with unexplainable nerves even as he tries not to grin like an idiot in the direction of the closed door. Knowing his luck, Roxas would come out just in time to witness it, and Axel hardly needs to give his best friend any more reasons to think him a fool.

He’s given plenty of them already, and that’s just based on today alone. And while he’s fairly certain the low simmer of tension between them isn’t all in his head, Axel already swore to himself that he was done being weird and/or stupid for the time being. He’s reached his freaking quota.

So no, he won’t stand around grinning like a creepy neanderthal. But when he reaches into his pocket for the blocky little device that’ll give him something to stare at besides the off-white walls of a grungy dressing room alcove, he comes up startlingly empty. It doesn’t make sense for a moment, completely thrown by its absence, until he remembers with a groan that he’d dropped the stupid thing somewhere during his dramatic, high-speed getaway.

“Damn it,” he grumbles, eyes scouring every inch of the scuffed-up floor in search of the damn thing and coming up empty yet again. He really can’t catch a break. “First one I busted, and now this? Those bloodthirsty little fuzz-balls are gonna put out a hit on me at this rate.”

Axel doesn’t get long to mourn his brutally short(-ish) life before the dressing room door is swinging open, Roxas taking a spot against the frame in a lazy lean that complements his ensemble perfectly; a casual pose for a casual outfit. It suits him (as everything does, Axel is finding). Axel takes it all in as Roxas talks, temporarily forgetting his phone crisis in favor of noting the comfortable looking fit of the jacket and the muted colors that seem to make the brilliant blue of his eyes shine all the more brightly when he meets them. It’s…dazzling. He’s actually dazzled.

“Looks great,” Axel says with a smile, much less flabbergasted than the last time they did this little song and dance. Roxas doesn’t look any less handsome in this particular outfit than he had in the last—he looks just as good, maybe even better—but he’s more prepared for it now. It’s still a little disconcerting how much older he looks, though. Might take awhile to get used to that. “Comfortable. Although…hmm. Maybe try some shorts with it? It’s gonna be hot at the beach, and trudging through the sand in full-length pants’ll be annoying. Should probably pick up some sandals somewhere, too. I need a new pair of flip-flops myself.”