Kingdom Hearts Fan Fiction ❯ Moped Romance ❯ Track 4: Hot and Cold ( Chapter 4 )

Title:   Moped Romance [4/12]
Pairing:  Axel/Roxas, background Riku/Sora

Warnings: Boys speaking Italian, language, Roxas being a whore, highly embarrassing moments, high-speed races through Roman traffic, Larxene.
Rating:  R.
Beta:  the BetaMistress alovelysilence
A/N:  Inspired by experiences had by a good friend of mine while we were studying abroad in Rome, Italy, in the spring.
Disclaimer:  I don't own Kingdom Hearts, but I do get a kick out of writing for the fandom. I also do not own any of the songs mentioned; they belong to their respective artists and labels. In this chapter, Katy Perry.

Summary: Lost on the back alleys of Rome one night, Axel finds a savior in a young blond on a moped. A love story with subtitles.

In this chapter: Axel does his best to find Roxas again after he looses his main source of communication.

Author's Note: This chapter is weird, disjointed, and probably all over the place a little bit. It took me far too long to complete; I believe the words spoken to the BetaMistress were, “Please, I want it out of my face.” Enjoy!

Cultural notes:

Laura Pausini -> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Laura_Pausini

Peroni - Italian beer

Abbey Theatre - an Irish pub near the city center on Via Governo del Vecchio. Boasts a multicultural staff, wi-fi, and coverage of both European and American sports, making it a popular spot for students and tourists. Ollie, Sam, Sandro, Teresa, and Tom are all real people who work at the Abbey. Sandro gives spanking lessons.

La Montecarlo - a pizzeria just off Corso Vittorio Emmanuele. Awesomely huge plates of pasta and pizza served by fast and flirty waiters.

Another note: For everyone unfamiliar with the sites in Rome mentioned here, I have a small album on photobucket of some reference pictures. http://s902.photobucket.com/albums/ac227/darthvair_65/

 

Track 4 - Hot and Cold

 

You're hot then you're cold

You're yes then you're no

You're in then you're out

You're up then you're down

 

Olette, the brunette and owner of the door decorated with pictures of Laura Pausini, was nice enough to offer Axel a ride before he could even ask. Her English was also very good, which made it even easier after he crept out of Roxas' room the second time, this time fully clothed. The kid with the gelled-up dirty blond hair was gone, leaving the shorter boy with the red basketball jersey sitting at the table. The girl had hopped off her perch on the counter, gave him a solid once-over, and introduced herself before asking for his address.

 

As they descended the stairwell to the courtyard, Axel couldn't shake the feeling he'd seen the other three somewhere before. Then it hit him: they were the other dancers he'd seen Roxas with two weeks prior. Once they were in the courtyard Olette led him over to a row of mopeds, scooters, and bikes, obviously owned by the other people in the apartment building, and guided hers out to the door. It was bright orange, a slightly newer model than Roxas's, with white floral decals. When they were out on the street she handed Axel the matching helmet (she giggled a little as he put it on) and straddled the moped while he fastened the clasps. Finally successful he sat right behind her on the seat, which luckily was tailored for passengers to sit comfortably. Kicking the motor to life, Olette glanced back to make sure Axel was comfortable before they sped off down the street.

 

Olette was clearly not the suicidal driver or speed demon Roxas was, Axel decided.

 

“How long have you known Roxas?” he asked, shaking strands of wind-blown hair out of his mouth.

 

“Two years,” Olette answered loudly over the moped engine. “We met in high school after he moved to Rome.”

 

“And you've all been living together ever since?”

 

Olette shook her head. “He was staying with his brother at first. We moved in together last year.”

 

“Didn't know he had a brother.”

 

“And how do four teenagers manage to pay for rent on a place like that?” Olette snorted.

 

“Roxas' brother, I guess?”

 

Olette nodded. “He is very generous. He has a wife and two children here in Rome, but manages to help out a lot with rent.”

 

“Never mentioned him.”

 

“When would you talk about family if you were having sex?” Olette laughed. “You have not known Roxas very long. He probably would not tell you a great deal, not yet.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“You are new, different . . . and a foreigner as well. Roxas is a very private person.”

 

“Sure didn't seem like it to me.”

 

“He trusted you enough that you would not try to kill us all in our sleep. He is guarded with emotions, do not expect too much.”

 

Axel nodded; that was to be expected, he supposed. As far as being new, different, and foreign, Axel knew that went both ways; that was how he saw Roxas to a certain extent. “So, how did you guys get into dancing?”

 

“You recognized us, huh?” Olette chuckled as she made a turn. “Hayner, Pence and I have been dancing together for many years. When Roxas became friends with us, he decided to join. I taught him everything,” she said proudly.

 

“Wow, and he's pretty good, too.”

 

“He is a very fast learner, and has a very good memory. Almost . . . what is the word? Photo . . .”

 

“Photographic?”

 

Olette snapped her fingers. “Yes! When he learns something, he never forgets.”

 

Which would explain how he remembered where my apartment was so easily, Axel thought. “Where does Roxas work? He ran out of there pretty fast.”

 

Olette paused, as if considering what to tell him. “He works at a restaurant some weekends. His brother will not pay for clubs,” she chuckled a little.

 

Axel nodded and was silent for a few moments, unsure of what to say. He was starting to recognize the neighborhood though, so that meant he was almost back to his apartment.

 

“It's just around the corner,” Axel directed; Olette pulled a left-hand turn down the next street. He gripped the metallic side handles of the moped a little harder as they started driving across more uneven cobblestones. Finally he saw his apartment building, and pointed it out.

 

Olette pulled to a stop in front of his building, putting the moped on idle as Axel dismounted and removed her helmet.

 

“What do you think the chances of me seeing him again are?” Axel asked; Olette paused in clasping the helmet on for a moment, then finished. For the second time that day she looked at him appraisingly, a small smile on her face.

 

“I think they are very good,” she said. “I do not think he would hate it. Call him later.” With that she waved good-bye and zoomed down the street, leaving Axel at his door.

 

He rummaged through his pockets for his keys and opened the large, heavy door. Making his way into the foyer, Axel caught the eye of a young teenage girl, who blushed furiously and stared straight ahead, waiting for the elevator to arrive. Once it did the girl rushed to the back corner of the ancient contraption and looked down as Axel closed the multiple doors behind them. Noticing she hadn't pressed a button for a floor, Axel turned to her. “Qual'é?” he asked, referring to the buttons. Which?

 

The girl's head snapped up. “Tre,” she answered, blushing even deeper as she averted her eyes.

 

“Okay,” Axel said, drawing out the last syllable and pressing the button with the number three and then his own, six.

 

When the elevator started to move in its rickety, agonizingly slow manner Axel felt the awkwardness fill the tiny space. He dutifully stared forward, but he could see the girl staring at him fixatedly in their reflection in the glass; however every time he went to catch her at it personally her attention was elsewhere. Once the elevator arrived at her floor she scampered out and disappeared into her apartment, leaving Axel staring after her with a highly arched eyebrow. The elevator arrived at his floor a bit later and Axel unlocked his apartment, daydreaming about the last twenty-four hours.

 

Demyx was on him within seconds. “You're back!” he hollered, holding up his arms triumphantly.

 

“Yup,” Axel grinned, a little cockily, shoving his hands in his pockets. “A little sooner than I wanted, but . . .” he shrugged.

 

“What, did he kick you out?” Xigbar yelled from the kitchen, obviously eavesdropping. “You must be a terrible lay.”

 

“I happen to be very good,” Axel retorted amid Demyx's restrained laughter. “He obviously had no complaints,” he continued tartly.

 

“I guess so,” Demyx said coyly, pushing aside the collar of Axel shirt just a little, revealing the hickey hidden behind it. He pushed it aside further and gave a burst of laughter. “You're covered!”

 

Axel brushed his hand away, chuckling. “I'm perfectly aware,” he said, turning in to his room. Demyx followed, and quickly shut the door behind them. The redhead looked back at his best friend, who looked ready to pounce. “What?”

 

“You have to tell me everything!” Demyx was grinning maniacally.

 

“Hell no,” Axel snorted, sitting and relaxing on his bed. “That's between me and my bombshell, thanks.”

 

“Fine, be that way,” Demyx pouted, still leaning against the door. “So why'd he kick you out?” he asked, seizing on the other unanswered question.

 

“He didn't kick me out,” Axel answered, leaning back and crossing his arms behind his head on the pillow. “He had to go to work.”

 

“Where does he work?”

 

“Don't know. And his room mates wouldn't say. I think they believe I might start stalking him. Oh, check this out. He lives with the kids we saw him dancing with - they have this sweet little apartment, apparently Roxas has an older brother who helps them pay the rent.”

 

“I was going to say, that's pretty odd for him to have an apartment on his own at that age. Even more so for all four of them. Wonder why the others aren't living at home.”

 

Axel shrugged.

 

“So,” Demyx prompted. “When are you seeing him again?”

 

“No clue. Not like I got to plan something with him before he took off for work,” Axel answered.

 

“You should text him.”

 

“I just left his apartment an hour ago, I'm not going to text him right now.”

 

“True,” Demyx conceded. “Texting or calling at this point could be seen as neediness or downright stalkerish. Wait a few hours.”

 

“Yeah, yeah.”

 

“You hungry? Zexion's making pasta and some chicken.”

 

Axel shrugged. “Sure, why not.”

 

“He said he might even teach me how to cook this semester,” Demyx continued, clapping as he went.

 

“Good, then you can cook dinner for us all the time,” Axel snickered, wrapping his arm around Demyx's neck. “You can be the housewife. I'll get you a little apron and everything.”

 

“How generous,” Demyx chuckled.

 

* * *

 

“Dude, you can text now. You're out of the stalker zone.”

 

Axel glanced at the clock; it was a little after seven. Roxas might still be at work, but if anything he'd leave a message for him. He left the kitchen just as Xigbar was strolling in, making the call for Kings, for which there was a resounding ovation. Smirking as he thought about being able to hook up with the blond again Axel rummaged through his clothes from the previous night in his laundry basket. He dug into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out his few remaining Euros and his monthly metro card; Axel frowned and turned out the other pocket, feeling the smooth plastic of his cell phone in neither.

 

It's here somewhere, he thought, and abruptly stood upright. Axel began scanning each part of his room carefully and, not seeing it in any obvious place, made quick strides over to his bed and pulled the sheets and blankets off. Even after he shook them out, no phone fell out.

 

It has to be, he thought desperately and dropped to the tiled floor to look under the bed. Scowling deeply, anxiety and frustration kicking in, he checked all the places it might have somehow gotten to: his pillow, under the mattress, in Xigbar's bed, in his bag of condoms, leftover suitcase, industrial-size jar of hair wax -

 

“Demyx,” Axel called agitatedly as he recapped the jar.

 

“Yar,” Demyx called back; Axel could already hear the alcohol in his voice.

 

“Have you seen my phone?”

 

“Nope. Why, have you lost it?”

 

“Well, maybe I have, since I can't seem to find it!” he yelled back.

 

“Somebody call his phone,” Axel heard Demyx say, a little lazily.

 

Axel stalked out of his room and into the kitchen, glaring at the group of guys - and Larxene, when did she get here? - sitting around the dinner table with glasses of wine, Peroni, and a bunch of cards at the center. Usually Axel enjoyed playing Kings, but right now he wanted to kill something.

 

“Oh there you are, all back safe and sound from your little sexfest?” Larxene drawled.

 

“Not now,” Axel growled; Luxord had his phone to his ear and was waiting expectantly. But for all of two minutes Axel couldn't hear the annoying jingle his phone made when it was being called. Nothing. Zero. Zip -

 

“Fuck.”

 

There was a full and pregnant pause, save for some stifled chuckles, before Demyx opened his mouth. “Don't tell me you lost your fucking phone.”

 

“I had it!” Axel said helplessly. “I know I did!”

 

“If you really think about it,” Zexion said, taking a sip of his red wine, “there were numerous places where you could have dropped it and never noticed. You did, after all, spend a good deal of time taking off your pants and keeping them off. There's no telling where it might be now.”

 

Horror and disbelief set in, and Axel blankly left the room. Once he was in his own bedroom he swore fiercely and kicked the wall. “Shit!”

 

There was a knock on the door, and Axel looked up to see Demyx standing in the doorway. “What.”

 

“Come play Kings with us, Ax,” Demyx asked after a minute. “There's nothing you can do right now. Just come . . . I don't know, drink your frustrations under the table. We'll get you a new phone tomorrow.”

 

“I don't remember his number though, I want to call him again -”

 

“It's not the end of the world though, Axel. Have you looked out your window lately? Isn't that the Saint Peter's dome out your window? You're in Rome,” Demyx said wistfully, gesturing to the open window. “There are going to be plenty of guys like him, I'm sure you won't only get lucky once.”

 

When Axel didn't answer Demyx sighed and moved in front of him. “Come on. Let's get you a Peroni and a chair, you can play Kings with us.” Then he pulled Axel from his seat on the bed and pushed him towards the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

Later that week Axel, Demyx, and Zexion made the trek to the Irish pub near the language school they were attending to use the wi-fi; it was always kind of a hassle since it was a well-known hangout for university students, especially Americans. The best wi-fi was in the bar, but there were maybe two electrical outlets you could get access to. Despite this Axel loved the Abbey Theatre; the workers were from all around the world, most were completely bilingual, and they'd help you with homework or give you advice on your conversational Italian if you asked. Ollie, the Welsh bartender, shared anecdotes from his younger years as a milkman while experimenting with new shots to serve on Student Tuesdays; Sam and Sandro were the only ones who were actually Irish, and made it their business to make up new and exciting twists on their sacred Guinness; Teresa was actually Italian and Spanish, and had gone to a few bar concerts with them the first month; Tom, the manager, was known to rush the waitress Alex into the basement whenever the police came in since she was an American working and living in Rome illegally; there were always various other waitresses whose names Axel never really learned.

 

Axel ordered his usual: penne arrabiata with a pint of Strongbow, and sat down with Demyx, who was setting up his laptop. They were on a mission: since Axel had lost his phone Demyx had vowed to help his friend search Facebook, MySpace, and any other social networking site they could think of to find Roxas. Axel hoped he at least had a Facebook. However, all of their attempts to find him on the Roman streets had proved in vain, not only because of the sheer number of people but also because he was probably in school Zexion reasoned.

 

Once the internet connected and Demyx's own Facebook profile was brought up, Demyx nudged the redhead in the ribs. “What's the kid's name?”

 

“Roxas,” Axel answered promptly. “Roxas Pietrino.”

 

“How do you spell that?”

 

“R-O-X-”

 

“No, no, the last name. I got the first.”

 

“Oh - P-I-E-T-R-I-N-O.”

 

Demyx nodded and finished typing, then clicked `search.' Anticipation fluttered in Axel's stomach in those few seconds, making him feel slightly nauseous. Then the search results came back.

 

Nothing - though there was a Pietrino listed, Roxas didn't have brown hair. And Axel knew quite well he was a natural blond.

 

Axel paused, assessing the results. “Are you sure you spelled it right?”

 

“Yeah, man - just like you told me.”

 

“Then he seriously doesn't have a Facebook. I'm beginning to think I did something really, really sucky to someone. My Karma is kicking me in the nuts so hard.”

 

“Well hold on, now. We haven't even tried MySpace,” Demyx reasoned, holding up a finger.”

 

“What's MySpace?” Sandro the bartender/waiter asked as he put Axel's plate of penne arrabbiata down.

 

“It's a social networking site a lot of people use in the States,” Axel started. “Well, I don't, but Demyx does for his music.”

 

“Oh, who are you looking up?” Sandro asked excitedly; Axel was very glad that while Sandro was a little nosy, it was in a totally good-natured way.

 

“A guy I met last week,” Axel answered, content to leave it at that. Ollie called him over to the bar to pick up his Strongbow, which Axel took as an opportunity to leave the conversation.

 

“This kid picked him up and took Axel home when he was too drunk to walk down Corso Vittorio,” Demyx sniggered as he was sitting back down, taking a sip of the amber-colored cider.

 

“I could walk,” Axel shot back, “I just chose to sit at that point.”

 

“You were drunk off your arse is what you mean,” Sandro countered, his Irish accent prominent since he was speaking English.

 

“There was a lot of absinthe that night,” Demyx said with a grin.

 

“Ah yes, my favorite poison.”

 

“Anyway,” Axel interrupted, “we're looking for the guy who saved my ass that night. We ended up meeting later, and we met up at Qube earlier this week.”

 

Sandro hissed. “You don't happen to mean Saturday night, do you?”

 

Axel paused. “Yeah, why?”

 

Sandro grimaced and whistled. “There are some parties at Muca where every single gay man who happens to be a creep crawls out of the woodwork to go - and Saturday night was one. Even the straight ones show up hoping to nab a lesbian drunk enough to take upstairs. And they can sense fresh meat, too. I tell you, you're lucky you hooked up with him as fast as you did. Fresh meat, all alone . . . for serious, Muca's a great place to hook up and find a good lay, but a little on the iffy side.”

 

Demyx raised an eyebrow. “What's Muca? Isn't that a cow?” he asked Axel on the side.

 

“Muca, Qube, same thing,” Sandro said cavalierly. “And your boy probably won't have a MySpace. That's an American thing. Anyway, if he was such a catch didn't you get his cell number?”

 

Axel chose to glare at the laptop screen than answer.

 

“Forget I asked,” Sandro chuckled, and went back to the bar.

 

“Want me to look anyway?” Demyx asked.

 

Axel paused, poking at and contemplating his penne arrabbiata. “Google him.”

 

“As you wish.”

 

Axel listened to Demyx type and went back to his pasta now that it was cooled off. He stabbed a few of the noodles and a few pieces of pancetta before popping it into his mouth, savoring the spicy sauce and the smokiness of the pancetta.

 

“Dude, I think I might have something.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“It's . . . huh, it's a newspaper article. Mentions him, but it looks like it's talking more about his family. Pietrino, right?”

 

Axel pushed his plate aside and leaned in closer to the screen. The whole article was in Italian. “Zexion!” Axel shouted, his voice carrying through the first few rooms of the pub.

 

“What?” Zexion sounded irritated, so Axel guessed he probably caught him in the middle of food.

 

“We need your help!” Demyx answered for him. “Please.”

 

Axel heard a chair scrape over the wood flooring, and a few moments later Zexion appeared beside them. “What is it?”

 

Demyx pulled the chair aside so Zexion could see the screen. “Can you translate this? You know what you're doing better than we do.”

 

“I would agree with that assessment,” Zexion snorted, settling himself in front of the laptop. He studied it for several minutes, raising an eyebrow slightly as he went. “First off, this article is about four years old. Second, what you have is an article from a gossip magazine based in Genoa.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Axel paused. “That's where Roxas is from.”

 

“Whatever I translate should be taken with a grain of salt, understand?” Zexion sighed, scrolling down the page a little more. “It says that there was this Catholic bishop who was a close friend of the Pope, and that he was rumored to have a mistress somewhere up north. Supposedly reporters traced this mistress to a villa outside Genoa; they found her living in the lap of luxury, no doubt funded by this bishop, with two children, ages eleven and twelve. Later they discovered she had an older son living in Rome. Anyway the reporters tried to link the woman with the bishop, and he completely denied being their father. He continuously maintained he kept his vow of celibacy throughout the investigation. They were just trying to break the scandal.”

 

“Did they succeed?”

 

“Doesn't appear that they did,” Zexion said, shaking his head. “The bishop might have bought them off, or,” he shrugged. “I don't know.”

 

“And then two years later Roxas runs away to live with his brother,” Axel said, sitting back on the tall bar stool.

 

“You really think this is Roxas' family?” Demyx asked, eyeing the article on the screen warily.

 

“I don't know. If I ever find him again I'll ask him about it. As if that'll happen the way I'm going.” Axel took a deep sip from his glass of Strongbow and turned his gaze out to the Via Governo del Vecchio and the people passing through.

 

* * *

 

The tour, Axel decided, wasn't all that bad. He hadn't really been out on an excursion to explore the city of Rome since his arrival - and his drunken wanderings could not be counted since he barely remembered them. Plus, they had a guide. A petite Roman woman with a heavy accent, but a guide nonetheless. She promised to take them to some of the more iconic sites in Rome before they all fell asleep or got too hungry, and so far Axel was more than satisfied.

 

They were making a giant loop around Ancient Rome, he discovered; after meeting their guide in front of the scuola she led them across Corso Vittorio and through several sidestreets until they arrived at the Jewish ghetto - or what remained of it from the near constant development and the destruction in the 1940s. Axel immediately felt out of place standing in the piazza as the guide explained the historical significance of the area; the buildings and restaurants all had a homey atmosphere that was welcoming yet aloof. Women leaning out of their tiny balconies smoked their cigarettes and surveyed the area coolly; old men sitting at tables watched the crowd of students through a cloud of pipe smoke. Axel made a point of where the synagogue, one of the more famous structures in the area, was located, as he would probably end up visiting its museum at a later date.

 

Afterwards the guide had taken them to the Circus Maximus, which Axel thought was a little disappointing after the guide had revealed that the Circus was, until recently, occupied by a power plant and the space that had become so famous was just an approximated representation in a field. She pointed out the Baths of Caracalla a short distance away, advising them to visit when they had the time.

 

The Mouth of Truth had come next; they each had pictures taken with their hands poised at the stone mouth, though Axel acted like his hand was being bitten off during his turn.

They walked back across the river once everyone had their turn and ended up at the Coliseum. Their guide explained that they would not be going inside, that they could do that on their own time, but went on to give a general overview of the building's history. She was interrupted several times with questions regarding gladiators and mass murder, at which point she halted all questions and declared that no, Gladiator was not a truly accurate historical resource.

 

As they circled the massive structure Demyx nudged Axel in the ribs and pointed. Axel followed his gaze and saw a rainbow-colored banner hanging over the entrance to what appeared to be a café.

 

“Sandro said that's the entrance to Rome's version of the Village,” Demyx said excitedly. “You know, in New York City? Sandro says that's where you have to start a night out.”

 

Axel squinted. “Looks a little small.”

 

“We should check it out later.”

 

“Sure.”

 

The Wedding Cake, aka the Victor Emmanuele monument ended up being the next stop on their tour; the Coliseum and the much more modern, white architecture were connected by one large boulevard - a move engineered by Mussolini to connect the glory of Ancient Rome with the Fascist regime. The boulevard itself allowed for a great look into the Roman Forum, whose ruins Axel could never really imagine once being the center of life in Rome. They climbed up to one of the terraces overlooking the city with a direct view down Via del Corso to the Piazza del Popolo. With the cool wind whipping his hair around despite the haphazard ponytail, Axel leaned against the railings, watching the ant-sized people swarm on the streets below.

 

“Man, I'm getting hungry,” Demyx groaned pitifully.

 

“Easy there, kid, I think there's a pizza place nearby,” Xigbar snorted.

 

“Ha ha ha,” Demyx answered, not playing into Xigbar's humor.

 

“No seriously. There's supposed to be a few pretty good places near the school. Come on, what do you idgits think?” Xigbar continued, wrapping his arms around their shoulders and looking between them expectantly. “What about you, flamesilocks? How's about some food? Guys' night out!” he announced. Xaldin and Lexaeus muttered something sounding like agreement.

 

“Only if you're buying,” Axel snorted. “Not all of us have huge amounts of money to spend, you know.”

 

Axel felt Xigbar's arm tighten around him like a vice, and found the upperclassman glaring at him.

 

“You're gonna get a pizza. It's not gonna break the bank.” With that he patted their shoulders and moved away.

 

“Well,” Demyx said with enthusiasm, looking pale and a little horrified. “That was awkward.”

 

Axel raised an eyebrow at him. “Xiggy's being awful friendly all of a sudden.”

 

Demyx looked at him agitatedly, biting his lip. Color blossomed on his cheeks and ears.

 

“What?”

 

“He totally just grabbed my ass,” Demyx replied through gritted teeth. “Like, seriously.”

 

“Um. Pretty sure Xiggy's straight.”

 

“I'm not lying.”

 

“I get that, I'm just saying - ”

 

“Forget it,” Demyx snapped, glancing around and looking paranoid. “It was nothing.”

 

Axel shrugged and went to catch up with the group, dragging Demyx along with him. After another ten minute walk they arrived at the Pantheon, which was swarming with tourists. Even all of the cafés surrounding the building were filling up; it wasn't anywhere near Italian dinnertime, a little late afternoon snack never hurt anyone. Now, Axel was no Architecture major and never claimed any great knowledge of buildings, but he found the Pantheon pretty cool. The guide was going on about shapes, symmetry and something to do with geometry, but Axel wasn't really paying attention. He managed to sneak inside for a few moments, just trying to get the feel of the scale of the temple and dome, with the perfect circle right at the top. Larxene eventually had to grab him by the ponytail and drag him out.

 

The last stop, since the sun was setting and the guide had promised they would be on their own for dinner, was Piazza Navona and the Fountain of the Four Rivers at its center. The cafés lining the piazza had all lit their candles and outdoor heaters in preparation for the dinner rush, while the hawkers and musicians had come out in full force. One guy tried to tie a string around his finger and tell him it was worth five euro, and another kept shoving a fake Louis Vuitton bag in his face.

 

Once he escaped he discovered that the guide had left so they could find dinner. It was getting a little chillier, and Axel had to stuff his fists in his pockets to keep his hands warm.

 

“So where are we going?”

 

“Place called La Montecarlo,” Demyx answered. “Or that's what Xigbar has in mind, anyway. He says it's only a few minutes away.”

 

“Good, because I'm freezing.”

 

It turned out that La Montecarlo was only a few blocks from the Abbey, nestled on a side street between Corso Vittorio and Via Governo del Vecchio. The restaurant looked fairly unassuming, not like it was arguably one of the best pizza places in Rome. Once they opened the door the combined aromas of roasting garlic, cheese and baked bread wafted out and lured them into the much warmer environment. Axel could see the wide brick oven in the kitchen from where he stood, and watched as waiters, dressed casually in their own jeans and fitted gray t-shirts, darted from the kitchen to the dining room bearing drinks and food briskly. Photographs covered almost every inch of the walls; pictures of groups posing with glasses of wine and food, all with one man in common.

 

After a few minutes one of the waiters took them to their table, laying glasses out and letting them know their waiter would there shortly. Axel grabbed his own multi-lingual menu and started looking through all of the choices. Unfortunately from the fried rice, tomato and mozzarella supplí, to the four cheese gnocchi and pizza, it all looked good.

 

“Axel,” Demyx said quietly poking him in the ribs.

 

“Hm.”

 

“Isn't that . . .”

 

Axel looked up him. “What?”

 

Demyx nodded to a point somewhere behind Axel. “Isn't that Roxas?”

 

Axel whipped around so fast he almost knocked over a drinking glass, and found himself staring directly at the blond teenager he'd almost given up hope of finding. Not only that, but he was holding a little pad of paper and a pen, and was wearing the waiters' jeans and gray t-shirt.

 

“Drinks?” he asked, looking beyond Axel.

 

“Well hey there,” Xigbar said and Axel wanted to kill him. “Water and some house wine for all of us, I think.”

 

Roxas nodded and promptly disappeared.

 

“Ouch,” Xigbar said, not sounding sympathetic in the least.

 

“Comments not appreciated,” Axel snapped.

 

“Ooh, touchy. Looks like you're out of luck.”

 

Axel clamped his jaw shut to keep from retaliating, focusing instead on breathing steadily to keep his anger under control.

 

Nothing changed when Roxas returned with three bottles of house wine and began taking their orders. Axel sat quietly and watched him as he went around the table, hoping to catch his eye. Roxas didn't even acknowledge his presence until it was finally his turn, though that didn't make much of a difference at all; he acted as though he had never seen Axel before in his life, and couldn't have cared any less.

 

“And you?” he prompted when it was Axel's turn.

 

Axel paused, still staring for a few seconds until he realized he had to say something. “Uh,” he muttered, faltering slightly, “the pizza con prosciutto - with prosciutto, per favore.”

 

Roxas nodded shortly and left just as quickly.

 

“I don't know Axel, I think you might have made a bad impression on the kid. I got the distinct cold-shoulder routine girls use when the guy they sleep with doesn't call them back.”

 

“I'm sure you're well acquainted with it,” Axel shot back. “Although, when was the last time any girl actually wanted to call you back after a night in the sack? They probably got something contagious.”

 

Xigbar's grin turned nasty. “I could say a lot of things right now about some interesting diseases any of your bedmates might have been getting, but I'm going to keep my mouth shut since in general I think you're a pretty decent guy.”

 

“Your charity is astounding,” Axel snarled.

 

“Don't get bitchy with me, you're the one who fucked up.”

 

“Yeah, you know, I got that after the first time. Thanks,” Axel snapped.

 

“Just tryin' to help,” Xigbar snickered, putting his hands in the air innocently. Other muted snickers broke out down the table.

 

“Fuck you all. Die in a fire.” Axel poured himself a generous glass of the red wine and drank deeply.

 

Demyx leaned in tentatively. “I was rooting for you, you know. Xigbar's an ass.”

 

Axel shrugged, but otherwise ignored him. So much for a guys' night out.

 

The rest of the dinner was marked by uneasy conversation and eventually, a few successful attempts at humor to bring the mood back up. Axel pretty much ignored them after his argument with Xigbar, preferring to watch the blond as he maneuvered through the tables briskly, particularly at the way his legs and ass moved in the jeans. Roxas had brought their food about twenty minutes after they'd ordered, never saying a word, even as he placed the large thin-crusted pizza in front of Axel. The redhead had attempted to catch his eye, but Roxas still seemed determined to act as though he didn't exist at all.

 

Waiters in general didn't seem too worried about making sure their customers' meals were all in order; Roxas only returned to write the final total of their bill on the paper table cloth and then to collect the money. After that they were set to leave; tips were discouraged.

 

As they were leaving La Montecarlo Axel caught a fleeting glimpse of the blond and decided to take a chance. “Roxas!”

 

After a few seconds Roxas appeared, glaring at him intensely. “What.”

 

“I'm sorry -”

 

“Your friends are leaving,” Roxas interrupted.

 

Axel glanced behind at the door, and noticed they were already out on the sidewalk. “Yup.”

 

The blond huffed. “You will be lost if you do not go with them.”

 

Axel shrugged. “You could always give me a lift home,” he chuckled weakly, backtracking once he saw the mutiny and rage boiling up in Roxas' expression. “Or maybe not. Look, I'm sorry. I meant to call you. I wanted to.”

 

Roxas looked skeptical. “I wasn't expecting much,” he said coldly.

 

“I lost my phone,” Axel drove on, “probably at Qube. It must have fallen out of my pocket. I'm sorry.”

 

“Why do you think I care?” Roxas scoffed. “We never said we would get together again. You are making things up.”

 

“But I was hoping we could,” Axel said, moving a little closer to the blond. “I really liked you. I'd like to go out with you again.”

 

Roxas paused for a good minute. “Like a date.”

 

“Yeah! Well, whatever you're up for really -”

 

“No.”

 

“What do you mean, `no?'”

 

“No. No dates. Especially not with Americans.”

 

“Why the fuck not?”

 

“You come and you go, you Americans,” Roxas virtually sneered. “And you would not like our dates.”

 

“Oh really? Try me.”

 

“Why should I?” Roxas put his hand on his hip, as if this was wasting his time.

 

Axel frowned, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Like I said. I like you, and I would like to go out on a date with you.”

 

Roxas wrinkled his nose. “This is about the sex,” he stated flatly, rolling his eyes.

 

“No! Well, I - the sex was, frankly, awesome, but,” Axel paused to think about the next few words, “I'm interested in getting to know you more.”

 

The blond stared, blinking, as if caught by surprise.

 

“What - did I say something weird?”

 

Roxas gave a little snort and, a few seconds later, a resigned nod. “Ok. Fine. One date.”

 

Axel started. “Really?”

 

“Sí. One date, one Roman date. Friday night. We will see, how about that?”

 

Axel nodded eagerly. “Sure, just tell me when and where.”

 

“Ventuno - nine. At Coming Out, I think you can find where it is,” Roxas smiled wryly.

 

“That sounds great,” Axel grinned, feeling giddy. “I'll be there.”

 

Roxas nodded. “I must work. I will see you then.”

 

“Can I get your cell number real quick?” Axel asked, fishing for his new phone.

 

“Friday night,” Roxas called, already turning back into the restaurant, still giving him that wry smile.

 

“Oh. Cool. Yeah, I'll see you.” Axel waved a little as the blond walked away.

 

Axel actually didn't have any issues finding his way back to his apartment this time.