Yeah, okay. This is my first fanfiction... and I don't really read fanfiction. Um... I haven't written in a long time.

Gomen nasai.

The boys stood in front of their mirror, taming their hairstyles of pseudo rock and roll, and tugging down the oh-so tight black tees that only accentuated their lithe bodies.

Behind them, the faint radio melted into morning to create a comfy backdrop. And with the ribbons of sunlight streaming through the curtains, the pathetic one-bedroom-shit-hole was almost nice.

Axel's stare shifted sideways, mere slits of emerald, wanton and feline.

He certainly looked like a hellion the Organization would spit out, casually eyeing his roommate up and down.

Refusing to assume the position of play toy (as he often imagined himself doing), Demyx quirked his lips into a grin. "I'm borrowing this," and the youth dangles a belt from his grip as he walks out of the closet-sized bathroom.

If Roxas were here, would probably be upset if I looked at another guy, something nagged in Axel's head, but he did anyway.

II. Set!

The dirty clouds slurred across the skyline, crooked buildings crisply intruding.

Now Axel padded a few sidewalk squares behind Demyx, just tagging along the return trip from grocery store and lapping up the gracious view like a kitten and his milk. (Thank the Gods for boys in tight pants.)

Unaware of his follower, Demyx whistled his own song, softer eyes sifting through the small city peculiarities, like fresh fruit stands and unemptied trash cans.

Attention having drifted to other things now, Axel paid no mind to where his feet placed themselves, his hand upturned before him and fingers curling. A snap of fire, thin and wavering, was dancing a centimeter above his palm.

He's like a lifetime smoker entertained by a lighter. (Easy to please.)

"Yo, watch it!" a familiar voice complained. Axel realize now that the obstacle he ran into was a person.

Blinking, "Huh?" Then Axel runs his pale fingers though his shock of red mane.

"Axel?" and when Demyx swivels around in a shuffling of grocery bags, Axel watches his lips brim of suppressed curses. They both blushing lightly, embarrassed or something like that.

III. Go

Demyx's features scrunched with confusion as he read and re-read the "sheet music" he had scribbled on the back of a receipt. The curves of his sitar rested perfectly on the curves of his legs, which were propped up on the opposite side of the loveseat.

Since the only seat in the house was occupied, Axel sprawled himself comfortably on the kitchen/dining room counter, which was only steps away from the "living room."

If Roxas were here, he'd play card with me, and Axel was drowning himself in nostalgia.

Pretending not to watch his roommate bite his nails, Demyx plucked idly at the strings of his instrument.

They both wondered if they should be scouting for Roxas like their assignment prompted.

Nah.

It was evident to Demyx that Axel wasn't ready to confront his best friend. His best friend that probably wouldn't even recognize him.

Pitching his gaze to the redhead, he undoubtedly confirmed Axel to be sulking. (Lack of catch phrases, stalking his friend to the supermarket and not staying up all night to finish Roxas collages? Yes, Axel was definitely sulking.)

"I'm going to get a shower," then Axel slides into a sitting position on the faux wood.

"Wait-" and Demyx triggers an innocent kiss, pressing himself up against his friend. His hands smoothing against Axel's chest.

On the side table, the one by the door, the wicks of the candles felt warm and the water in the aquarium next to it seemed to quiver.

If Roxas were here, would he be disappointed?