Kingdom Hearts Fan Fiction ❯ The Transience of Memory ❯ Gofer ( Chapter 4 )

Author's notes: Typical disclaimer I own nothing of Kingdom Hearts.

 

 

 

Chapter 3:

 

By the end of the first day of his torment, Hayner had been optimistic. He felt that the “gofering” wasn't really as bad as it could have been. It could have been hell. Now, on the morning of day two, he decided it was hell.

 

As soon as he arrived, Seifer set him to work. It was almost as if to make up for the more or less fun activities of yesterday afternoon. Skateboarding one day turned into skateboard maintenance the next. He groaned. Cleaning the bearings on one skateboard was bad enough, but on all five? It was times like these that he wished he didn't know how to do stuff like this. It was obvious that no one had bothered with this menial task for quite some time, himself included. It was pretty much brainless work, but it was annoying, and took a little while to do. That, and it was messy. The bushings were probably going to be crap on some of these, but he decided not to mention it. What was the point in giving himself more work?

 

All told, it took him a little under 2 hours. Geez, his neck hurt. A table might have been better than the floor for doing all that, but none of them were grungy enough. He surveyed the room again. This place was posh compared to the place he and his friends hung out at. There was a small kitchen, a fridge, and real furniture. They weren't matched or anything, nor were they in perfect condition, but still. Somebody's parents must have a little money. Or connections…

 

“Done already?” Seifer was lounging in his favored green easy chair. It was a rather ugly shade of green, but it looked like it would be really comfortable. He was reading a skate magazine this time.

 

“Yeah, I just finished.” God, please don't give me something else to do yet.

 

“Just in time for lunch.” When Hayner perked up, Seifer smiled. Uh oh. “Guess what you'll be making.”

 

 

For the 50 millionth time, I hate that jerk! Hayner fumed. He told the thug he couldn't cook, practically begged him to reconsider, and was absolutely overruled.

 

 

“Nobody is that bad at cooking.”

 

“No, really. I can't even boil water.”

 

“You just follow the instructions! They're written right there. How hard can it be?”

 

 

And so he found himself sent to the store, with a list of ingredients he hadn't know existed. What the hell was tomato paste anyway?

 

After about an hour of wandering around, he was still missing items. He finally broke down and asked one of the employees where things were. “Seifer,” he promised, “when I get back I'm gonna shove this 100% pure extra virgin olive oil up your-“

 

“That'll be $30.32, please.” The cashier said patiently, trying to ignore the incensed muttering issuing forth from the boy at her register.

 

“Oh, right.” Hayner fished out the money the thug had given him. At least he hadn't been expected to pay for all of this.

 

 

“Daaaamn,” said Raijin. “This is sad. Reaaally sad. Maybe he can't cook afterall, boss.”

 

Fujin leaned over the counter. “What the hell are you trying to make?”

 

“I think it was supposed to be pizza?” Vivi offered, trying to be a little less mean.

 

“How'd he do with the nachos?” Seifer asked as he came over.

 

“You mean these?” Fujin poked a plate of charcoal. “Perhaps they once were nachos… in another life.”

 

“AAaaahhh! I'm going to STARVE!!!” Rai hollered. “Kid, how does it take you THREE hours to not make a pizza, and burn nachos into an unidentifiable heap?!”

 

Fuu dug in his pocket. “I have 10 bucks.”

 

Rai looked at him suspiciously. “Where'd you get that from?”

 

“None of your business. What've you got?”

 

“5 bones. Vivi?” he looked towards their other member.

 

“Fifteen.”

 

“I'll throw down 20,” Seifer added helpfully. “That'll be enough for two pies, wings, and some soda. What kind do you guys want?”

 

Hayner's eye was twitching at this point. He was tired, irritable, and covered in flour. What more could go wrong?

 

“Dr. Pepper,” said Rai.

 

“Jolt,” said Fujin.

 

“Sprite,” said Vivi.

 

“Coke,” added Seifer, handing the money to Hayner. “You can get it at Wing Palace, it's right around the corner.”

 

 

******

 

What could go wrong? HA! Damn them all.

 

He scowled at the fountain drink machine as he waited for the pizzas. It was going to be a real pain in the ass to carry 5 fountain drinks. Maybe he could just grab a two liter? Nooo, that wouldn't work. They all just had to order something different. He set to work filling the various cups with ice and soda, cursing them all once more, for good measure.

 

Luckily, Wing Palace had those cardboard drink carrier things, which made his life a bit easier. He had the bag of wings on his left arm, and was balancing the two pizzas on top of his right. Oh, this week was sucking already.

 

 

As he approached the Hangout, he heard loud thumping music spewing out onto the street. A party? Already?? Lovely. He struggled with the door, and finally managed to kick it open with his foot.

 

Weaving through the throng of people was no small feat. Some of them seemed to have been drinking, and they kept stumbling in his way, or shouting really loudly, or bumping roughly into him.

 

“Oh, for Chrissakes,” Hayner muttered as he reached the counter. There were beer cans and bottles everywhere. Even the failed pizza and burnt nachos were there. He had to put the food and drinks on the floor while he cleared counter space for them.

 

Rai noticed him, and sauntered over. “Which one's mine?”

 

Hayner studied the drinks a moment before pulling one out. “Here.”

 

“Fuu! Seifer! Vivi!” Raijin called. “Food's up!”

 

The others worked their way through the crowd.

 

Fuu snagged a plate of wings, Vivi took pizza, and Rai grabbed both.

 

When Seifer reached the counter, he laid a hand on Hayner's shoulder and squeezed it briefly. “Thanks, Hayner.” He pointed at one of the cokes, a bottle already in his hand. “Is that one mine?”

 

“Sure.”

 

He held up the liquor. “Want some?”

 

Hayner shook his head tiredly.

 

“Alright.” Seifer poured some of the dark liquid into the coke, discarding the straw and lid entirely. “Rai! Rum?”

 

Raijin weaved his way close enough to stretch across the counter, holding his cup out. “Hit me.”

 

Seifer poured a liberal amount into the cup before his cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket, checking the number. “Oh, gotta take this one,” he excused himself. He put down the bottle of rum as he held the phone to his ear, and grabbed his cup by the rim with his fingertips as he slipped out.

 

 

Hayner was BORED. He looked around the room, like he had been doing for the past two hours. He didn't really know any of the people here, and he resented being made to feel like an outsider. Seifer made brief appearances, in which he was working the party, or was mobbed with admirers. But just as often, he would leave the room again, holding the cell to his ear.

 

“Hi, cutie! Do you want to dance?!” Hayner turned to see a pretty brunette who was having trouble standing, addressing him. Dance? He could hardly stay awake sitting down.

 

“Ah, no thanks.”

 

“Hmpf!” Her bottom lip thrust out at that, and she stormed off on wobbly legs.

 

 

Two rejected proposals later, Hayner found himself wondering what Roxas had been up to. Maybe he could escape Seifer long enough to see his friend, before the week was up. Hell, maybe if he left now, he could see him sooner. The party was starting to have that “after hours” feel to it. People were coupling off, some doing unspeakable things in plain view. He was ready to be out of here, and it had been a while since he'd seen Seifer and the others, so they might not notice him slipping out.

 

“Hey there,” someone drawled throatily. Hayner turned, ready to turn this person down too.

 

“Roxas??” No, it wasn't him…. but it really did look like him. How strange. How disturbing.

 

“You all alone?” The boy asked him suggestively, leaning into his personal space.

 

“Uh, yeah, sorta… but I was just about to leave, you see.”

 

“What a coincidence,” the Roxas look-alike leered at him. “So was I.”

 

“Hey, look man, I'm not really interested.” Hayner started inching for the door. If it got bad, he could run for it. He was a fair sprinter.

 

“That's what they all say.” The doppelganger replied, unfazed, following him.

 

Hayner experienced a moment of panic. This guy didn't do subtle. Hell, he wasn't doing obvious. What if he followed him home?

 

An arm slid lightly around his waist, steering him to the door, as a warm voice spoke low in his ear, "Hey, runt. If you're leaving, I'll walk you home."

 

Hayner shivered. It was like a rule that someone speaking into your ear like that had that sort of effect… right?

 

He was very aware of the arm casually wrapped around him, as they approached the door.

 

"Don't mind Xavier," Seifer said, moving away as they stepped outside. "He got the hint, he's just very determined."

 

“Um- thanks for the help.”

 

“Huh?” The thug looked slightly surprised for a moment. “Oh. Yeah, sure.”

 

Seifer seemed to hold his alcohol pretty well, but he lacked focus. “You don't have to walk me home.” Hayner said while giving him a critical eye. “I've been there many times. I'm sure I won't get lost.”

 

Seifer snickered and reached a hand out to ruffle Hayner's hair. “Always the smartass,” he said affectionately.

 

“But, you know,” He got a serious look to his face then, “It's sort of late to be out, and I want to make sure you get back in one piece.” Hayner sputtered indignantly, and Seifer pinned him with a `don't argue with me' look. “Now look, I'm sure you can usually take care of yourself,” he held up a hand, a request for Hayner to let him finish, “but you have to consider the circumstances. I have a few enemies, see, and you are leaving a party at OUR hangout, which makes you fair game. You just shouldn't go solo `round here at night, especially if you have associations with any of the gangs.”

 

“So, hanging around with you guys is bad for my health?” Hayner replied in mock horror. “And here, I'm only doing it because you're making me…”

 

“Oh, shut it, shrimp. I'm just trying to look out for you.” Seifer cuffed him in the arm. “Besides, you placed the bet, same as me.”

 

“Point taken.” Hayner tilted his head in consideration as they walked. “So, that Roxas look-alike... he a friend of yours?”

 

“Something like that.”

 

“And you let him molest your guests?”

 

“I don't know if I'd phrase it quite like that… He's a wild card though, just sorta does what he wants… who he wants.”

 

“What if they don't want him?”

 

“That doesn't happen very often.”

 

“Sounds like you're speaking from personal experience.”

 

Seifer shrugged. “I've just seen it way too many times now to question it.”

 

“Are you trying to tell me I was in danger?” Hayner said, shocked. He narrowed his eyes. “I don't swing that way.”

 

Seifer looked at him appraisingly. “He's a master at finding the weakness in any person and totally exploiting it. Sometimes, before they even knew what hit them.”

 

Hayner blanched. “Again, I'm in harm's way because of you.”

 

“But, I saved you. And I'm providing you with escort services.”

 

“Yeah?” Hayner retorted, “Well, that makes up for all the manual labor you've been forcing on me.”

 

“You agreed to the bet, so I won't take the blame on that.”

 

“Pft. I never agreed to slave labor.”

 

“You agreed to be my gofer for a week. You never had me specify the details, so that's poor planning on your part.”

 

“Bah.”

 

“Are you sure you live around here? We just walked around this circle twice.”

 

Hayner stopped, hands shoved in his pockets, eyeing the quaint little houses. “Hmmn.” He leaned back on his heels, then did an about face. “We're one street up.”

 

“Brat.” Seifer scoffed. “You said you wouldn't get lost.”

 

“And I didn't. I just missed my turn since I was distracted.”

 

“Uh-huh.” They walked the rest of the way in companionable silence. These little neighborhoods were pleasantly quiet, and didn't have the feeling of city about them. The houses had well-kept, tiny little yards in front of their clean, two-story facades. They practically reeked of wholesomeness and family values. It was nice, in a way, but it also made Seifer feel out of place. It was too civilized. It didn't feel real. It was like the people here were escaping the harsh reality of the world by ignoring it, and putting up their white picket fences. It felt like walking through a scale model, everything too small, too neat, and here he was, a monster who could wreck havoc on all that tranquility.

 

He looked at Hayner out of the corner of his eye. Had he grown up in this place? Did it feel natural to him? Somehow, it seemed impossible that he was a product of this mentality.

 

“Home sweet home.” Hayner stuck his tongue out.

 

The building they were stopped in front of looked like a cross between a gingerbread house, and Barbie's dream mansion, excessively frilly architecture dressed in pale yellow. The yard had its very own white picket fence, freshly painted, by the looks of it. Special pavers provided the walkway up to the house, and flowerbeds everywhere were bursting forth with colorful growth. Oh, it was too much. Seifer snorted.

 

“You wanna make something of it?” Hayner snarled.

 

At that, Seifer couldn't hold it in any longer. He grabbed the fencepost for support as laughed uncontrollably. Oh god, tears were coming out of his eyes. “Cute… house,” he got out before doubling over.

 

Hayner kicked him in the leg. “Quit it already.” He hissed. “It's my grandma's house.”

 

Oh? Seifer stifled his laughter. “What about your folks?”

 

Hayner's eyes hardened, and he looked away. “I don't want to talk about it,” he said quietly.

 

What was that haunted expression just now? “Hey, no problem.” He slung his arm around Hayner's shoulders and herded him to the stoop, partly to distract him from the direction their conversation had gone. “Listen, I need you to do me a favor.” Seifer leaned in as if in confidence, holding up his closed hand. “Can you hang onto this, for me?” He opened it, and on his palm was a circle of metal. A silver ring.

 

Hayner met Seifer's eyes and saw an intensity in their depths that he'd never seen before. The pupils were dilated, making them look almost black. They were pulling him in… it was a little like falling.

 

The arm left his shoulders, and strong hands took his, pressing the ring into his palm, and wrapping his fingers closed around it. “Thanks.” Seifer gave him a quick smile, before leaving. “I'll get it back from you later.”

 

How strange, Hayner thought, watching him go. Seifer always did such inexplicable things.

 

He unlocked the door, and locked it again behind him. The house was dark, meaning his grandma was already in bed. He really wished she'd at least leave a light on for him. He felt for the wall, and then the stair railing, making his way to his room. The second floor was pretty much his, as Nanna couldn't use the stairs anymore; the cartilage in her knees was ground down too badly.

 

Opening the first door on the left, he entered his room. He closed it, and flopped back onto his bed, lifting his arm up so he could look at the ring. It was fairly clunky, but had an interesting wave motif along the entire band. He slipped it on his first finger, and found it to be extremely loose. He twirled it around a few times before trying it on his thumb; still way too loose.

 

He sat up, tossing the ring from hand to hand. He needed to keep it on him, so he could give it back when Seifer wanted it. Wearing it was out, since it didn't fit, and he didn't trust himself to not lose it if he kept it in his pocket. He walked over to his dresser, setting the ring down while he rifled through the top drawer. Didn't he have that chain in here somewhere? He peered into the depths, looking for the shine of silver.

 

Ah! There it is. It was wedged in the very back, since he didn't care much for jewelry. It was a gift from his grandmother a few years back, and was quite nice, so he always felt kind of bad about never wearing it. It was one of those chains with thick, flat links. Sturdy enough to hold a chunky ring, he supposed.

 

 

 

***********

 

 

“You can go.” Seifer said later the next afternoon. It was only about 5 pm, a lot earlier than usual. “I have business to attend to.”

 

“Sure.”

 

Seifer resumed his pacing, looking lost in thought. He'd been acting distracted for a while now, and Hayner was curious. What kind of business?

 

He shrugged, letting himself out. He started home, but decided he'd see if he couldn't find out what Seifer was up to. He walked down the street, almost to his turn, then doubled back; carefully keeping a low profile. He hid in the alleyway between two buildings where he could easily see the door to the hangout without being seen himself.

 

 

Oh, man. Patience was not one of his virtues. He'd been out here for almost an hour already, and Seifer still hadn't left yet. Waiting was so annoying, and now he was also getting hungry.

 

He stuck it out, and at around 5:30, he saw the thug leave the building. Finally!

 

He followed at a distance, keeping the white trench coat barely in sight. Seifer was too aware of his surroundings for it to work any other way. He almost lost him a few times, but in the end, they reached the same destination.

 

Hayner peeked around the corner of a building carefully, hearing heated voices.

 

“-if he's wearing it, and you still start shit, I'll fucking kill you.” That sounded a bit like Seifer.

 

“Ha, big words, man. I wonder if you can even make good on it,” someone sneered. “Or have you gone soft?”

 

Hayner could vaguely see Seifer. He was standing off against what looked like a rival gang, and he was beyond pissed. “You fuckers don't know when to quit.”

 

“You can't be everywhere at once, Seifer,” another one taunted. “And you've hardly been around lately anyway. What's to stop us?”

 

Seifer laughed, a cruel, harsh sound. “So, my word's not good enough anymore, is it?” He crouched, dragging a bottle towards him by the neck, and stood in one fluid motion. He took a few steps forward, the grin on his face was warped and twisted. “Then let's settle this shit right now.” He smashed the glass bottle abruptly onto the concrete wall to his right. His body poised in a half crouch, the wicked sharp edges of the bottle held at the ready, he began to circle the others. He looked ready and eager to kill.

 

Hayner turned around quickly, flattening his back against the wall. This Seifer is the one people fear; ruling his turf with an iron fist. The bloodlust he emanated was almost palpable. He swallowed, his heart hammering in his chest. How could he have forgotten the other boy's reputation so easily? Forgotten the reasons he was treated with such awe and terror…

 

He heard the rush of footsteps, the scuffle of shoes on the pavement.

 

“Augh!” someone cried out.

 

“Shit! Watch the bottle!”

 

There was more shouting, and the sounds of fists and feet hitting flesh.

 

“Bring him down, you assholes!”

 

Could Seifer take on this many at once? From the sounds of it, he was definitely holding his own.

 

Hayner wanted desperately to see what was happening, but he was afraid of being dragged into the fight. He wasn't really a fighter; he wasn't sure he'd make it out alive. For the first time in a long while, fear was preventing him from acting.

 

The fight began to sound messier, the noises growing progressively worse. Someone was moaning in pain, and someone else sounded like they were being sick.

 

This was the reality of such things. Violence was fast, brutal, and nauseating. It was an inescapable whirlwind, threatening to consume all in its path.

 

 

“I told you to get out of here, I never wanted to see you again!” a woman cried. She pushed her five year old son into the broom closet, and turned to face the door that was being broken down.

 

“That's not your decision to make!” a man shouted, kicking through the door. “Where is he?! Where's my son?!” His voice swiftly increased in volume as he entered the house.

 

The woman screamed, and he heard her run into the next room, trying to shut the door to the bedroom. The bolt clicked in place. “Please! Leave us alone!” she sobbed. The man bellowed, beating at the door with something, steadily splintering the wood. A final, loud crack sounded as the frame gave way.

 

Five year old Hayner huddled in the broom closet, hugging his knees, trying to pretend that it wasn't real.

 

 

Hayner shook his head, trying to rid himself of the unwanted memories. His stomach churned. He stumbled back the way he came, holding a hand up to the wall for support. He had to get away from here; away from the gangs, and away from this Seifer who reveled so much in lethal confrontation.

 

 

*********

 

 

Roxas stared out the window above his desk. His eyes felt heavy, but he just couldn't seem to sleep. The insomnia happened sometimes, but it had been a while since the last occurrence. The worst part was that he could never gather the focus to actually do anything to keep himself occupied. He yawned, and propped his head on his hand.

 

He wondered how Hayner was doing with the whole Seifer thing. He thought it was an off the wall sort of bet they made, but maybe a week together would let them sort out their differences. It still surprised him that the gang leader took any flack from his friend. He wasn't known for being lenient, after all. That first time they met Seifer, Roxas knew exactly what and who they were dealing with; he was sure they'd be killed. It was incomprehensible that they were left alone, and even more baffling that they all sort of became friends in the time afterwards. Only Hayner was different. Seifer tormented him specially. Still, it was more like teasing than anything else, and Roxas wondered if the gang leader had simply just taken a liking to him.

 

Roxas yawned again, rocking his chair back. The sky was a weird sort of grey-black, tonight, as if there were too much light on the horizon. A sullen, sickly crescent was the only celestial body visible. The stars, if there were any, weren't discernable.

 

“Hello, Roxas.” A voice said quietly.

 

“AH!” Roxas fell out of his chair. Rather, the chair tipped all the way over, and he was still in it. He always did have the bad habit of tilting it back onto only two legs. The act of balancing just felt comfortable to him. He looked up from his new position on the floor.

 

A black-robed figure was sitting on his bed, face hidden, extending a gloved hand as if to help him up. He ignored it, preferring to get up quickly on his own. He did not want to be in closer quarters with this unknown person. “How did you get in here?” He knew he'd locked the door when he got home.

 

“…” The person said nothing, but they slumped forward, resting their elbows on their knees, head bowed.

 

Roxas wasn't quite sure what to do. It was bad news when people broke in knowing someone was inside. It was a small room, he probably couldn't get through the door unobstructed; the burglar had some long arms. Maybe he should climb out the window?

 

“I'm supposed to kill you.”

 

“W-What?” Roxas felt his pulse begin to race. His window was on the second floor, but it was starting to look good right about now. Maybe he could make the jump without breaking anything.

 

“When you left, I thought you were going to disappear,” it said hoarsely, “or that you'd lose yourself.” It raised its head, and he could see the lips that were forming these words. “But then I found you…. I saw you were almost the same; you just can't remember anything.”

 

“What does that have to do with killing me?” He asked rather steadily; his limbs were shaking, and he couldn't make them stop. Could he talk himself through this?

 

“Dissenters must be eliminated,” it replied.

 

Roxas decided to go for the door. He'd likely lose too much time if he went out the window, as he'd have to climb onto his desk first, and he didn't know if he'd have the coordination for that at the moment.

 

He ran out the door, skidding around the corner into the living room. Shit! It was too dark, he couldn't see. He went blindly forward, hitting his shin on the coffee table. OW! Damn thing was doing straight in the dumpster if he ever made it through this! He hobbled towards the front door as fast as he could.

 

“Roxas.” The voice was in front of him. As his eyes adjusted, he saw the figure leaning with its back against the front door, barring his way, the only way out. He was trapped.

 

“Look, I don't know who you are, but just leave me out of this,” he said desperately.

 

”I didn't tell them I found you.” What was that supposed to mean?

 

“Great,” he whispered. “Now leave me alone.”

 

“I can't.” It pushed off from the door, and stepped into a patch of ambient light. The hood was no longer hiding anything. It had been pulled back completely. He had long, impossibly red, spiked hair. Inverted teardrop tattoos stood out on his pale cheeks, just below his eyes. Roxas' heart skipped a beat. Those eyes held him in place. He couldn't move, couldn't look away. “I tried to stay away,” he said helplessly. “I didn't want them to find you through me.” A gloved hand caressed his face. “They'd kill us both.”

 

“Then why are you here?” Roxas asked tenuously.

 

“I can't help myself,” he murmured, brushing their lips together.

 

Roxas shuddered, closing his eyes. His would be murderer was stirring up feelings in him he didn't know how to deal with. He felt leather-clad arms wrap around him, pulling him into a tight embrace, holding him like he was something fragile and precious. “I've missed you,” he found himself saying distantly, arms lifting to reciprocate the touch. He felt like he was coming apart, everything blanketed in a hazy fog, his voice and emotions seeming to belong to someone else. Yet, there was a nagging feeling of familiarity.

 

A tremor ran through the arms surrounding him, the hands clenching his shirt convulsively. “You can't mean that,” the redhead whispered, his bowed head tucked against Roxas'. “You don't remember.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

 

The arms relinquished their hold, hands sliding up to grasp his shoulders. Desperate aqua eyes searched his. “Do you?”

 

“I…” he felt overwhelmed. “I…don't know.” How could he not know? It was as if his brain were frantically trying to dig up some faded memory, something he knew he should know, but failing. Tears of frustration pricked his eyes, and he turned his head to hide them, pulling away from the other boy. He hugged his arms as if he were cold, folding in on himself, and shuffled slowly through the dark hallway back to his room. What was it he was trying to remember?

 

Axel was torn. He didn't want to push Roxas too hard, but it seemed like some part of him really did remember. If there was even a chance, then he couldn't just leave it like this. This boy meant more to him then life itself, and he didn't know how much of that either of them had left. He followed Roxas back into his room. He was sitting on his bed, knees drawn up to his chest, oblivious to his presence.

 

Axel pulled on the fingertips of his gloves, sliding them off one by one, and tossing them aside. The sound made Roxas look up, and his eyes were rimmed in red. The other boy had been crying, just as he'd suspected.

 

Axel unhooked the chain across his chest, letting it swing to the side as he moved into the room. Roxas' eyes were intent upon him, questioning.

 

He grasped the zipper of his robe, firmly sliding it through its track, buckling and splitting the leather garment open like a second skin. Roxas' gaze followed the motion, watching as bare skin was slowly revealed. Axel felt his stomach tighten at the unwitting attention. He'd never tried something like this before. He pulled the robe open, pushing it off of his shoulders, letting it slide heavily to the floor next to the bed, leaving him in only his black leather pants.

 

Blue eyes panned slowly up his stomach and chest, fanning the flames of desire in him with their meticulous scrutiny. They finally swept up to meet his, a vulnerable quality to their azure depths.

 

Axel lowered himself to the bed, never breaking eye contact as he leaned in to capture Roxas' parted lips with his. He had to be sure he wasn't forcing this; that the other boy wasn't against this.

 

Roxas heard a small sound escape him as the redhead's hot mouth descended on his. A tongue slipped passed his lips, filling him up, claiming him. Elegant hands ran over his chest, smoothing, caressing; tightening the aching knot in his stomach. Oh, god, why was he reacting like this? He was on fire, and he just wanted to give himself up to it, he wanted it to burn him alive.

 

The kiss was broken, sure hands tugging at his shirt, pulling it over his head, and flinging it to the floor. Firm hands pushed him down onto the bed. His mind was swimming with the impossibility of it all; that he had fallen prey to those eyes so easily. Was he really going to let this happen? Teeth grazed his skin, as the redhead nuzzled his neck and chest. It was so hard to think. His skin was becoming so sensitive; he was aware of the sheets brushing his back and arms, and the heat pulsing from the skin of the body above him. His eyes were drawn to the graceful lines of his form; the sculpted chest, and the tapered waist that made him appear so willowy. A hand caressed him through his shorts, and he had to bite his lip to keep quiet. Heavy lidded eyes met his, desire pouring from their mysterious depths, making his breath catch. “You're beautiful,” he breathed, unable to hide this truth as his heart constricted, eliciting a secret smile from his would-be lover.

 

“Not as much as you are to me right now, and always.” He whispered huskily.

 

Axel kissed him slowly, pouring every ounce of feeling he had into it. Roxas moved beneath him, a low moan escaping his perfect lips. He couldn't hold back anymore, his last shred of control was coming undone.

 

He undid the catch on the boy's shorts, sliding them down his hips, and off. He stared a moment before ridding himself of his own pants, distracted by the smooth expanse of tawny skin, and the graceful swell of his hip bones. His hands skimmed over Roxas' tight belly, fingertips lingering over his inner thighs. Was Roxas even ready for this? What if he hurt him?

 

Roxas grabbed his hand, forcing him to meet his dazed blue eyes. “You're hesitating,” he said breathily.

 

“I'm sorta unprepared for this,” he apologized, voicing his other concern. He didn't have anything with him to facilitate their joining, and coating yourself with saliva seemed rather unromantic. But, they had to use something. He refused to hurt Roxas for something as trivial as appearances.

 

Roxas laughed lightly, his eyes momentarily closed. “You dork.”

 

Axel froze. That- that was Roxas' typical obnoxious line when he thought Axel had done or said something weird. He studied the cherubic face, finding the slight smile achingly familiar.

 

Roxas touched his face gently, staring through to the core of him. “Don't hold back,” he whispered, eyes filled with longing.

 

Axel stretched him gently, distracting him with tender kisses, and teasing strokes. “Ah!” the blonde gasped as that hand wrapped around him. He was slowly being driven mad. Inside and out.

 

When the hands left him he looked up to see his lover readying himself, and the expectation made his stomach clench. He wanted to feel that strong body pressed against his, moving against him, through him. He wanted to become a part of him.

 

Axel kissed Roxas as he entered him, swallowing the inevitable sounds of pain, moaning as he felt his lover surround him. Oh, Roxas.

 

He breathed harshly against the blonde's neck, willing himself to stillness, giving him time to adjust. Roxas ran his hands over the red hair in a soothing motion. “It's ok, I'm fine,” he laid a kiss along Axel's jaw, causing him to smile uncertainly.

 

“I love you,” Axel replied quietly, spilling his secret for the first time. He began to move, not waiting for a reply. Roxas arched up into him, gasping, gripping Axel's shoulders like a life line, as if they could keep him from drowning.

 

The noises Roxas was making were taking him over the edge, undoing him so quickly. It was like careening off a precipice; hurtling forward with no control, unable to affect anything around you. Then, the moment of weightlessness that came before plunging into darkness. He felt that moment rushing up behind him, threatening to shatter him into oblivion.

 

Roxas panted, trying to regain some sense of himself. But everything was systematically wiped away, as the burning, aching, yearning centered itself immovably at the point were their bodies joined. Tears slipped unnoticed down his cheek at he held this body tightly to him, never wanting to let go. A hand took hold of him, stroking him, torturing him, rapidly sending him to completion. His release raced over him, accentuated by the thrusts that rocked his body, making him cry out.

 

Muscles tensed beneath his hands, his lover gasping at the feel of him riding out his pleasure. He felt teeth bite harshly into his shoulder, as his lover came, his body shuddering violently on top of him. He finally collapsed, breath coming in short pants.

 

Roxas listened to the breathing slow, being cradled so gently against a reassuring heartbeat. He felt sleep tugging at him, enticing him in the midst of the warm floating sensation he was experiencing.

 

Axel watched a smile grace Roxas' face while as he fell asleep. “Roxas, I'm sorry” he murmured touching their foreheads together. He caressed his cheek, feeling the wetness there. “I just want to disappear with you, even if it's only for a little while.”

 

 

 

 

TBC