Isn't it funny how inspiration comes from the simplest things? I was listening to Launchcast, and I can't even remember the name of the song anymore, or who sings it -- but an image of pouring rain flashed into my brain, and ... this is what I did with it.

I'm giving this to Lauren -- theisraelproject107 -- just because. I hope you like it, love. I know it isn't much, but ... I'm thinking of you. *heart* (Why doesn't it ever let me put the periods in your username? I DON'T UNDERSTAAAAAND T.T)

Standard disclaimers. I own nothing other than my ideas.

And now that it's after 1am and I have to be back at work in seven hours, I'm going to try to sleep. I just had to get this finished before I lost it.

-o-o-o-

It was cold. It was cold and he was shaking. The rain was coming down in sheets, and he could barely see his hand in front of his face as he stumbled down the middle of the street, searching – where the fuck did he go?

"Roxas!"

Wiping soaking wet strands of hair away from his face, blinking several times in succession in a vain attempt to see more clearly, he trudged forward. His feet were heavy, trapped inside shoes that squished with each step; he kept going, kept looking, finding each and every of the blond's familiar hideouts, but not the blond himself. It wasn't until, in a last-ditch effort, he climbed the clock tower and found him perched on the very edge, feet dangling. Like a child sitting in a basket at the grocery store, content enough with a view of the outside world to keep from screaming about wanting to go home.

"Roxas, what the fuck?"

He was quiet, even as the redhead came to sit beside him, crossing his legs beneath his lanky frame and trying to keep himself from looking down – heights really weren't his thing. They made him nervous. Why is it so hard for people to believe that? Axel waited for an answer, a sign that he'd even been heard, but none came. He reached out and touched the blond's shoulder tentatively, only to recoil when he flinched away from him. It was almost painful.

"I'm sorry, okay?" Roxas' head was bowed, chin tucked against his chest as he spoke; his words were slightly slurred, a product of too much alcohol in too short a time. He looked up, blue eyes reflecting a burst of light as lightning flashed across the sky. "I'm … drunk. I'm sorry."

It wasn't like he didn't know what he was apologizing for – they'd both been there, after all. Drank the same liquor, shared the same teasing touches, felt the same –

But wait … had they?

They were both drunk … but Axel, he'd sobered up just the smallest bit. He hadn't been expecting it, no matter how much he may have joked about it in the past. How serious could one really be about being attracted to one's best friend, after all? It just … wasn't logical. And Roxas was straight, after all. He hadn't had a chance in hell. Or … he thought he hadn't.

When he'd kissed him, he hadn't quite known what to do. What to do with his hands, how to breathe, how to open his mouth – he assumed that it had been his lack of response that had pushed him away, sent him out in the rain in the middle of the night without so much as a backward glance at the dumbfounded redhead left standing in the middle of the living room floor. Fix this. You have to fix this, you fucking idiot.

"Do you know how long I've been waiting to do that?"

It was dead silent except for the distant rumble of thunder. Roxas was shaking his head, a tiny smile curving his mouth. "You don't have to … rationalize with me, Axel." The redhead growled, abruptly grabbing the collar of his shirt and turning him to face him.

"Shut up, will you? Just … shut up for a second."

He peered down into that familiar face, the face of the only friend he'd had for so long – he tried to remember when he'd first realized the need to taste those lips. The need to be closer. As far as he was concerned … only since forever.

He brought their lips together, slow and deliberate. His hands framed the other's face, cold fingers tracing lines over smooth skin before threading through drenched strands of gold. This time, he moved. This time … his intentions were clear.

I love you.

Again, and again, until his lips hurt – and even then, he didn't stop. He had to make sure, he had to make damn sure –

"All I ever wanted was you, Roxas."

It was quiet again, save for the sound of his own heart beating against his ribs. He looked up, and for a moment he could see only rain drops as they fell on flushed skin; the breaking of another tiny smile across a pale mouth, and he could finally breathe again.

I could spend my life lost in you.

It was like going home for the first time. A home he'd never been to, but was somehow familiar with – a shocking sense of deja vu, tainted around the edges with the feeling of that which is so new.

Lost in you.