Two weeks ago I promised my pain-in-the-ass sister, xthetwilightprincessx, an Akuroku one-shot based on the song "Your Guardian Angel" by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus. It goes without saying that of the aforementioned things, the only thing I own is the pain-in-the-ass sister. I'd be willing to trade her for Axel, if the people at Square Enix were interested…

rated M for my/Roxas' potty mouth and the consumption of illicit substances. And because it's angsty and young children reading angsty fanfiction leads to angsty emo teenagers and god knows we don't need any more of those.

Roxas was late. His boss wouldn't care, Cid never cared if he was ten minutes behind schedule, but Hayner was going to kill him. He hated working absolutely one minute longer than necessary, and Cid never let him leave until Roxas showed up. Hayner was going to kill him, lock him in the walk-in freezer, bury him head first in ten gallons of sea salt ice cream, take the extra large serving spoon and stick it – WHAM

Roxas reeled backwards, hitting the pavement beneath him with a thud. A pair of skinny black jeans stood almost directly at his feet, and he followed them up with slightly dazed eyes until he met their owner's face. Bottle green eyes peered bemusedly out from under a shock of spiked red hair, and Roxas stared so hard he almost forgot to be angry.

"Hey, watch where you're going kid."

Almost forgot to be angry. He ignored the man's outstretched hand and pushed himself to his feet, scowling as he hastily brushed himself off. The man merely quirked an eyebrow at him – good god, were those tattoos on his face? – and dropped his hand, smirking.

Roxas side stepped him wordlessly, almost immediately resuming his previous pace as he hurtled around the corner. Inexplicably, for no discernable reason, he turned at the last second, catching one last glimpse of the strange red hair. The man had openly turned to face him, watching him run away with a strange gleam in his acid green eyes and a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

---

I will never let you fall
I'll stand up with you forever

---

He reached out a hand wrapped in a leather glove and clasped the bony wrist of the black haired girl in front of him, clenching his fingers until the leather of her coat squealed against his glove. He begged her to wait but she yanked her hand away and he was face to face with a giant key that was sharper than any sword he'd seen before.

The air under his free hand hummed against his fingers but before he could move a silver wheel of daggers and flames flew from nowhere and distracted the girl long enough for him to back the fuck away from the weapon sparkling in her hands.

And then He appeared in a shock of red hair and called the girl Xion as they hurled themselves at each other in a whirl of flashing steel and fire and sparks and black leather coats until his voice was pleading, begging them to stop and the girl – Xion – hesitated only for a second, but that was all it took.

The scene changed and the walls were white and he was yelling at the red-haired man who was pointedly looking anywhere but directly at him, until he pushed the taller man so hard that he hit the wall and then they were pinned together against the wall and even though the redhead was the one pinned, the shorter boy couldn't move as the greenest eyes to ever grace the world told him that he was just trying to keep him safe.

Roxas woke with a wosh of air from his lungs and a name on his lips, but by the time the sun rose twenty minutes later all he could remember of his dream was a shade of green that surely must belong to some ethereal god, and yet seemed oddly familiar.

---

The bell above the door probably rang like it always does when someone enters the shop, but the entrance was accented with such an explosion of laughter, chatter, and general noise that it was hard to imagine that only three people had entered the shop. Roxas' initial surprise left him fairly quickly, however, when he saw his brother sandwiched between the other two people. Silence and Sora rarely existed in the same room.

"Rox! I thought you were off today…" Sora's voice was just slightly too high, his blue eyes slightly too wide. Last time Roxas had seen that expression on his twin's face he'd been caught sneaking in his bedroom window three hours past curfew. Roxas smirked. Sora was trying to hide something, and Sora was caught.

"Covering Cloud's shift, he's doing interview's to fill the night shift," Roxas shrugged, smirking at the brunet. He shifted his gaze to the two figures flanking his brother; on his right a girl, pretty and petite with chin-length red hair and freckles sprayed across her cheeks. She looked familiar, but Roxas was fairly certain he'd never seen her before. On his left, silver haired and nearly a head taller than Sora, and probably Roxas, stood a boy with pale blue eyes, both narrowed as he studied Roxas with the same air of appraisal. The back of Roxas' mouth tasted sour, bitter, like it did whenever he saw Seifer, the kid that used to pick on him in middle school.

"Sooo…well," Sora scratched the back of his neck, a deviation from his usual nervous habit. Roxas searched for his other ha – ah. Sora's right arm curved ever so slightly behind the redhead's back, as though he was trying to hide the fact that he was holding her hand. "Well, I mean, this isn't really how I was planning on introducing you…but…"

And Roxas understood who they were. He was surprised it took him this long, actually, considering just how many times he had heard Riku this and Kairi that over the last few weeks. Of course the girl was Sora's new girlfriend, Kairi, and her best friend, Riku.

He hopped down from the countertop and hurried to the end of the counter, wiping his hands on the rag hanging from his apron strings. He wasn't particularly interested in meeting the source of Sora's new, somewhat sickening, puppy-dog-in-lurve expression, but his twin would never let him hear the end of it if he wasn't polite.

"You must be Kairi," he said quickly, reaching his newly clean hand out to her, She brushed the hand aside and put her free arm around him for a hug instead, kissing his cheek softly.

"I've heard so much about you, Roxas," her voice was much softer than he'd expected, but Roxas supposed that one needed to be quiet in order to balance out the unusually boisterous Sora.

"Sora talks a lot," Roxas said simply, "it's nice to finally meet you."

Sora beamed at him, tugging Kairi back into his side. Roxas ignored the feeling in his stomach at the adoration dripping off Sora's every feature, turning his attention instead on the tall boy next to him. Roxas had been right, Riku very nearly a head taller than Roxas, and he was still looking at Roxas with that odd expression in his eyes. For the briefest moment Roxas wondered why the silver haired boy wasn't wearing his usual blindfold, but that thought vanished almost as swiftly as it had come.

"Riku," he said quietly, reaching one hand out to Roxas. They clasped hands just long enough to be polite, the bile in Roxas' throat rising at even the few seconds of contact. Riku seemed equally affected; he let go of Roxas' hand almost instantly, his nose wrinkled as though he'd been forced to touch something repulsive.

Sora didn't notice.

"So listen, Rox, we really just came here for ice cream, I had no idea you were working today."

"Yeah, I figured that out after the goldfish impersonation when you saw me, moron," Roxas teased, heading back behind the counter and pulling out three clean bowls, "What's your pleasure? It's on the house."

Kairi argued, but Roxas insisted, and eventually got the three of them seated at a table, spoons in hand, resuming their previous volume as they seamlessly picked up their conversation from where they left off. Roxas ignored them and went back to his book.

"Hey, Roxas."

The door bell had already chimed and Roxas had assumed they left, but Kairi was still standing in the open doorway, fingers threaded through Sora's. Roxas avoided looking at them.

"My friend Selphie's having a party this weekend. You should come with Sora. It'd be fun, and maybe we could get a chance to hang out. Get to know each other." She smiled hopefully at him, and despite the fact that the emotion surrounding the whole lot of them made him want to throw blunt, heavy objects at them, Roxas couldn't help but smile back at her.

"Yeah, sure."

Kairi's grin blew Sora's out of the water. Riku scowled. Roxas ignored them all.

---

You're my whole heart
Please don't throw that away

---

He's certain he doesn't know this guy, how could he forget someone with hair like that, with fucking tattoos under his mile high green eyes, but that doesn't stop him from feeling like there's a huge, gaping hole right where his heart should be as he gropes desperately for a name that he's shouldn't know cause he's never met the guy…right?

But "we're best friends, right?" and even though he can't explain how, he just knows it's the truth, even before the redhead's celestial eyes light with a fire that can only be pure joy. He can't prove it though, and the look on the cloaked man's face makes his entire being ache as he wishes desperately for the power to make him smile like that again.

Roxas pressed his face into his pillow and pulled the blanket over his head, determined to ignore the inexplicable feeling of numbness in his chest.

---

Roxas slid his thumb down the side of the empty beer can, indenting the aluminum in a pointed kind of boredom. Sora and Kairi had disappeared over an hour ago, exchanging coy smiles and not-so-subtle eyes, and Roxas had found no patience for Riku. He wasn't particularly surprised at his brother's behavior, it was far from the first time Sora had abandoned him for a girl, but it was the first time Roxas had felt remotely bitter about it.

It was, he hypothesized, because of the way Sora had snuck off with her; the sly, almost shy smiles as Sora brushed a stray strand of hair out of Kairis' eyes, the casual way he'd brought her a new drink without being asked. Sora wasn't just flirting with this girl, he actually liked her. And, Roxas was loathe to admit, if the adoration dripping off her every feature was any indication, Kairi was equally smitten.

Roxas hated them for it. And the Riku leaned over and kissed the blonde on his right, who laughed and pressed herself into him, and Roxas hated the world. Flames of red hair and poison green eyes flickered briefly in front of him, but Roxas dismissed the hallucination with the forceful slam of his dented beer being thrown into the wall. He ignored it as it bounced against the floor with a clatter, turning on his heel and storming off through the crowd.

He considered the kitchen and the beer-filled fridge, but the first four drinks hadn't made a dent in his sobriety, and he doubted the fifth would have much more effect. He veered left instead, slipping quietly out the set of double doors leading outside. The difference was instantaneous and overwhelming. The backyard was mostly empty, cool and mellow against the chaotic noise inside. It was blissfully dark and silent, too; the only light washing out from the interior of the house and the small pinprick of a lit cigarette, the sounds from the party drowned out with the gentle lull of a guitar. Roxas moved closer.

Two figures sat at the end of the patio, leaning back against the garden wall. One held a cigarette dangling between his lips, the other, inexplicably, held a guitar. The smoker had an arm curled somewhat protectively around the guitarist's waist, and Roxas almost immediately turned on his heel, stifling a groan.

"Hey man, what's up?" The musician glanced up from under his hood, his eyes bright and wide as he fixed them directly on Roxas. He jerked his head in a summoning gesture and Roxas, reluctantly and against his better judgment, crossed the patio towards him.

"Party's getting a little much, yeah?"

Roxas shrugged, squinting as he tried to adjust his eyes to the darkness. The glow from the windows provided just enough light that Roxas was slowly able to make out the features on the figures in front of him.

"I'm Demyx, this is Zexion."

"Roxas."

"Sweet, man, join the X club. Come on, pull up some brick, take a load off. Want a hit?"

The smoker, shaggy hair obscuring one eye as he stared up at Roxas, plucked the cigarette from his lips and held it up, and it was only then that Roxas realized that it wasn't actually a cigarette. He shrugged again and took the proffered blunt, curling his legs beneath him as he sank to the ground.

"So, Roxas," Demyx grinned at him, taking one hand off the guitar to take his own hit, "what drives out outside on this cold winter night?"

"It's a little loud," Roxas lied. An ear-splitting crash echoed through the backyard, as though some drunk do-gooder had meant to highlight Roxas' point. He and Demyx both smirked.

"Zex found this," Demyx gestured to the instrument cradled between his knees, grin unfailing, "he didn't believe that I could play, so I bet him his night's stash." He strummed a few chords, fingers flying smoothly over the strings.

"I'll assume you won," Roxas mumbled, and Demyx laughed.

They were almost exactly what Roxas needed. Demyx was talkative, slightly giggly, and unreservedly cheerful, while Zexion was nearly mute, outwardly unamused, and fairly reserved. They were undeniably together, but had none of the usual stomach turning effect most couples had on Roxas. He sat outside with them, smoking and listening to Demyx coax tune after gentle tune from the sita—guitar, for longer than he ever would have expected.

Zexion was the first to move, his lips nearing the same shade of blue as his hair as he hissed that it was far too cold out here. Demyx watched him go with a small smile on his face, climbing to his feet and shaking out his limbs. He looked down at Roxas with the same smile, his blue eyes bright.

"You'll find him, you know. You'll find him, or he'll find you, but one way or another you'll find each other. You two always do."

And Roxas stared as Demyx shook his blond hair out of his face and ambled off towards the kitchen door. Zexion was waiting for him just inside the doorway, rubbing his hands up and down the musician's cold arms. Roxas turned away as Demyx leaned in, staring out into the empty backyard. For the second time in as many hours, Roxas thought of red spikes and neon eyes.

---

I'll be there for you through it all
Even if saving you sends me to heaven

---

The hands wrapped around the…keyblade…weren't his own and the eyes he was using belonged to someone else too but the consciousness was both of theirs, and that was torture like he had never known before because even though…Axel…was here and fighting for their lives there was nothing he could do to help because he was trapped sharing someone else's body and that someone else's fight was fading fast.

And then "…I can handle these punks. Watch this!" and he knew without even needing to look that the beautiful redhead with the voice that made his whole being want to claw its way out of this body-prison was going to die.

He didn't want to look, but the other Him did and so he was forced to, and Axel was spread eagle on the ground and disintegrating into thousands of tiny little pieces and even though this body didn't really know Axel he had enough influence over their shared consciousness to force his own words from…Sora's…lips and ask the infuriating man in front of him what the fucking hell he'd been trying to do.

"I wanted to see Roxas. He was the only one I liked. He made me feel like I had a heart."

Roxas woke with a sound like a sob and even though he's never been in love before, he's certain that this is how it feels when your heart breaks. In the morning, he would remember the name Axel.

---

"Hi."

Roxas glanced up from his newest book, chin in his hand as he rests his elbow on the countertop. It was raining, and a little chilly for the summer, and nobody in their right mind was eating ice cream on a day like this. But the girl in front of him was one of his regulars, a tiny little blonde girl around his age, and she's so pale that he assumed she must only come out when the sun's hidden behind a thick shield of clouds or night.

She was clutching something flat and white against her chest, her big eyes almost impossibly wide as she stared levelly at him.

"Hey."

"I'm Naminé."

"Roxas."

"Well, Roxas, I was just…I mean, it's completely empty in here, and you're stuck working, and I've been dying to ask you for months now and I just figured, I mean…this couldn't be a more perfect opportunity, you don't even have to do anything, you can keep reading your book and if someone comes in that's totally fine…oh I'm rambling."

She trailed off, presumably put off by the mildly alarmed expression on Roxas' face. A faint blush dusted her pale cheeks, but she took a deep breath and tried again.

"I'm working on a project for my portfolio class, and I was wondering. Could I draw you?"

She gestured with the thing she was holding so tightly against her, and Roxas looked more carefully at it. It was a sketchbook, the kind a real artist uses, not one of those fancy wannabe ones people buy at bookstores. He glanced back down, not at his book, but at his watch. He had three hours left in his shift and only four chapters left, and Naminé was the first customer he'd had yet today.

"Sure, why not."

The next hour passed in fairly companionable silence; Roxas perched in his usual spot on the counter top, finishing his book, while Naminé sat at the table nearest the register. The only sounds were the raindrops on the window and the scratch of the blonde's pencils against her book, and Roxas briefly considered the fact that this was possibly the most comfortable he'd ever been at work.

And then he finished the book. Suddenly the thoughts he hadn't realized he'd been avoiding came flooding to the forefront of his mind, and without a book or the mind-numbing task of scooping ice cream for tourists and beach combers, Roxas found little else to occupy himself with.

"Wanna talk about it?"

Roxas nearly jumped, Naminé's soft voice shattering the silence surrounding them. He turned his eyes to her carefully, trying to remain as still as possible, like she'd instructed.

"Talk about what?"

"Your entire face just changed. Is it about Axel?"

Roxas forget entirely about his promise to remain immobile. His jaw dropped and he swung his head around to stare at the girl fully. Her eyes were wide again, and he knew from the look on her face that she was regretting what she'd just said.

"How do you – what – who's – why would you?"

And her expression changed again, just as quickly. Her eyes softened and her lips twitched into something like a sad smile, and Roxas confusion reached a level of epic proportions. If his body language showed it, however, he wasn't sure, because Naminé was suddenly rifling through her sketchbook, her attention no longer on him.

She stopped when she reached a page much closer to the beginning than the one she'd drawn Roxas and ripped it entirely from the binding of the book. She dropped the rest of the book on the table and crossed the room, carefully handing the torn page to the blond on the countertop.

Roxas took the page with inexplicably trembling fingers, his eyes already on the splash of colors. His own profile, younger, well before he first saw Naminé in the ice cream parlor, was etched on the page before him, glancing backwards over his black-clad shoulder. Roxas couldn't see where his eyes were looking, but he could guess. A second figure rested in the background, dressed head to toe in black leather, long, lanky body curved against a dark brick wall. The shock of red hair stood out against the muted colors of the rest of the page. His eyes were the wrong shade of green.

"He's looking for you, Roxas. He's always looking for you. And he'll find you soon, I promise."

Roxas couldn't speak, couldn't get passed the lump in his throat as he stared at the scene in front of him, tendrils of something tickling the edge of his memories. He swallowed, hard, and nodded; even if he could speak, he didn't know what he would have said.

Naminé turned back to her table, collected her sketchbook and her pencils, and tucked them back into their little case. She crossed the room quietly, pressed a soft kiss to Roxas' cheek, and left, closing the door softly behind her.

Roxas didn't notice. He hadn't been able to tear her eyes away from Axel.

---

Cause I'm here for you
Please don't walk away
Please tell me you'll stay

---

He walks with a purpose, through the dark and the shadows and the empty, empty streets, and he walks with such a purpose that he can almost pretend that the lanky tangle of limbs he just passed was an oddly immobile Dusk, and the shock of red spikes was just the reflection of a neon sign.

But they both know that he is more acutely aware of this man than of any other creature in any of the currently known worlds, and they both know that he can no better ignore him than he can ignore the need for oxygen in his lungs, nor can He ignore the barbed words being so callously thrown straight for the place where a heart should be.

"No one would miss me."

"That's not true!"

And he didn't stay long enough to hear the rest, though he knew there was more, but instead he pushed his legs into a sprint that would get him far enough away from the older man that He wouldn't be able to hear the noises being wrenched forcefully from his chest as his cheeks grew steadily wetter with tears.

Roxas' eyes snapped open and he found himself face to face with the very scene he'd just left, outlined in charcoal and filled in with colored pencil smudges. He carefully moved Naminé's drawing further away from his face. He didn't want it to get wet.

---

Roxas and Sora's parents hadn't always been around, but they had nonetheless raised their boys right; staring was rude, and staring at a stranger for something they undoubtedly had no control over was even ruder. But Roxas couldn't help it. He absorbed the sight of the man in front of him, the slate blue hair, the tawny golden eyes, the four inch gashes sliced across the bridge of his nose that were impossible to ignore.

"Roxas, this is Saix, he'll be taking the night shift now that Vex's going back to school. Saix, Roxas."

Roxas nodded absently at his boss, though he was only paying Cid half a mind at best. Saix was staring at him with the same appraising look, and Roxas could almost see himself being weighed and measured in the older man's ochre eyes. He had an odd suspicion that he would be found wanting.

Thin, narrow fingers clasped around his own hand, and Roxas was only slightly surprised by the strength with which they squeezed. He put significantly more effort than usual into returning full pressure; he had no mental desire to impress this man, but his body seemed to disagree with him.

Saix sneered at him and Roxas dropped his hand as quickly as was socially acceptable, resisting the childish urge to wipe it on the back of his apron. Saix' fingers were cold, skin stiff and leathery, as though the man were skin, bones, and corpse. His touch sent chills down Roxas' spine, though he wasn't sure the precise nature of the chills. They could have been extreme dislike, hatred, or possibly even fear. Arguably, even, a combination of all three.

Roxas rolled his shoulders beneath the thin wait of his hoody, his muscles stiff with dislike for the man before him. He was superior, he was smug, and he made Roxas want to swipe the bloody smirk right off his face. Preferably with something long and sharp. Saix had ruined everything, if only he'd just given Roxas his stupid answers then Roxas never would have left…

---

Use me as you will
Pull my strings just for a thrill
And I know I'll be okay

---

"What about the Organization? They'll kill you, Roxas. Kill you cold. You're crazy, you can't –"

The woosh of Axel's breath ruffled his hair as the redhead hit the wall, his body pinned by two deceptively strong hands palms down against his chest. He pressed his body flush against the redhead as far as he could reach; eyes narrowed as he gripped the pointed chin and forced the green-fire eyes to meet his.

"Do not tell me what I can do, Axel."

The taller man laughed, and he could feel the vibrations in his own ribs. He didn't like it; didn't like the way the motion jostled his sore chest and the noise cut sharply at his ears and the green eyes crackled at the cackling spilling from His lips and he shut him up the best way he knew how.

It was hard for him to reach the other's lips with his own, but he pressed himself up as best he could and yanked on the red-fire hair to close the rest of the distance. It didn't matter, anyway; Axel had the shorter boy flattened against the wall with his legs around His waist before they even felt the need for air. It was hard, fast, angry, the way Axel hated it, but he was furious and frustrated and he didn't give a damn about the redhead's so-called feelings right now.

His anger was relentless, and even after the older man peeled the rest of their clothing off and deposited them both on the bed, pulling the sheet up over them, and he firmly kept his back to the vibrant green eyes, feigning sleep over forced conversation. He was angry, but he let the redhead curl an arm around his waist regardless, and it was because of this that he heard the words meant to fall on sleep-filled ears.

"What about me?"

Roxas shuddered at the sudden loss, the warm body he'd felt against his back just seconds before lost in a memory from another lifetime. He pulled the blanket closer and closed his eyes.

---

And now that I'm strong I have figured out
How this world turns cold and it breaks through my soul

---

He remembers with every thread of his soul, how could he possibly have forgotten, even for a second, who Axel was to him. The redhead stalked the floor and he couldn't begrudge him the righteous anger, even when the flames engulfed the floor and licked the ceiling, even when the chakrams came flying and the green eyes glowed like poison against the red and yellow blaze.

He was no match for Oblivion and Oathkeeper though, and it didn't take long for his lover to fold, panting, clutching his ribs and shielding his face from the boy he loved, the boy he fought for.

They told him he didn't have a heart, couldn't have a heart, never knew what it was like to have a heart, but that didn't stop the thing in his chest from exploding in a burst of fiery heat as he ached for the man before him. The green eyes met his and the tattoos glistened like real tears and though thrown lightly in the air, these were undoubtedly the heaviest words either being had ever spoken.

"Lets meet again in the next life."

"Yeah. I'll be…

… waiting." Roxas didn't jump, start, or jerk awake, but slowly opened his eyes as he whispered the end of his promise into his dark room. Axel should be here soon.

---

Roxas hadn't gotten another minute of sleep after his last dream. He lay flat on his back, eyes roaming over the speckled ceiling tiles, the only sign of life in the fingers lightly brushing Naminé's sketch. His thoughts, disconnected from his near-motionless body, whirled faster than Roxas had ever thought possible, blurring through lines of subconsciousness, unconsciousness, and something entirely indefinable as Roxas spliced together fragments of dreams and that something that resembled memories.

Even now, eighteen hours after his whispered promise woke him up, Roxas mulled over the pieces, trusting his slightly dragging feet to remember the frequently-traveled path between the ice cream parlor and his apartment.

He knew nothing about the key-shaped blades or the oddly contorted white figures, nor did he care. The leather coats were interesting but unimportant, and the preoccupation with leaving was something that, though possibly the most important point of all, Roxas knew he would never understand. What mattered, the only thing that mattered, was the other man.

Axel.

He closed his eyes and it was as though the image had been seared to his eyelids, fire-tipped spikes and poison green eyes, teardrop tattoos, and a smirk that made Roxas go weak in the knees. Roxas knew nothing of love in this lifetime, but he was certain that this man, this heart-capturing, fire-breathing enigma was the missing fragment of his soul that Roxas hadn't realized he'd spent his entire life looking for. He had never felt this much conviction for anything in his twenty years of life; Axel was his, had been his before, and would be his always. He just had to find him.

It was the squeal of rubber burning heatedly against pavement, not the sudden determination flooding his entire being, that forced Roxas' eyes back to the pavement beneath his feet. Sleep deprived, mind eons away from the here and now, Roxas was stupid to not pay attention, Roxas was ignorant and idiotic and doomed because he'd been so busy drowning in Axel that he had led himself directly into the path of the screaming tires, the SUV with the headlights burning neon white into his eyes as the automobile barreled towards the spot where Roxas' feet were suddenly stuck to the crosswalk and he could do nothing but turn his face and squeeze his eyes…

His body flew as he was struck with alarming force, not from the front, but the side, driven forcefully out of the way of the careening truck by something that was now agonizingly, horrifyingly, lying in a crumpled heap on the asphalt, half beneath the monstrous vehicle that had screeched to a stop precisely two seconds too late.

Roxas hit the ground with a sharp crack of bone and slap of flesh, but he barely noticed his shredded palms or the blood soaking through the knee of his jeans. He had caught a flash of red out of the corner of his eye as he fell, and the color was so familiar.

Someone was crouched at his side, another by his head, but he ignored both figures and their cries of caution as he launched himself to his feet using his bleeding palms as leverage. There was already a small knot of people circling the hood of the car, the driver screaming and sobbing at someone on the other end of a cell phone call, but Roxas shoved his way through with eyes only for the man lying in the center of the group.

It was shorter, tamer, but there was no mistaking the hair color; it was inconceivable that more than one person in this world could have hair the precise shade of a flame at its darkest center.

Roxas fell to his knees, ignorant of the pain shooting up one thigh. He scrambled for the man, the same man, he realized with a belated whimper of something unidentifiable, that he'd run into weeks ago, the very much alive man inspiring his conscious visions of red and green. His bloody hands left a faintly red trail over the figure as he clutched at the black sweatshirt, raked that hair back off his forehead, brushed across the soft, tattooed flesh on his cheeks. His eyes were closed, body limp, but ragged breaths were still wheezing from the man's throat. Roxas willed him to look at him.

"Ro-rox-"

The eyes suddenly locked on his were the color that Roxas had dreamed every night for weeks, the color that Naminé hadn't been able to find in her entire collection of materials, the color that made Roxas' heart simultaneously lodge itself in his throat and plummet well below his stomach.

"Axel." Roxas slid his fingers down from the small tattoos, curling them around the other man's jaw as he cupped the face of the man he had loved across lifetimes. Axel's lips twitched in a weak grin.

"Roxas," he breathed, and the blond in question choked on a sob.

"Axel – Axel why, you stupid…what were you doing?"

The redhead lifted his own bloody fingers and wiped the tears Roxas hadn't realized were dripping down his face. Axel dragged the fingers down Roxas' jaw, over the bridge of his nose, across his lips, a dying man committing to memory a face he'd never seen before in this life, a face he wouldn't forget no matter how many times he died.

"Protecting you, idiot. I'm – always…I will – never…I love…"

And Roxas didn't care that there was a crowd of people surrounding them or that his lip was bitten raw, didn't care that the man in his arms was dying and was probably in a lot of pain and that blood and dirt from Roxas' own hands were streaked across the redhead's face. All that mattered was that this man was Axel, and he was his.

His lips were wet when he pressed them to the other man's, and it didn't matter if it was blood or tears or saliva or whose, whatever it was, it was, because Roxas had never in his entire life felt as complete as he did with Axel's hand on his face and tongue in his mouth and lips against his, and it didn't matter where they went or what happened next because Roxas would wait 358 more lifetimes if that's how long it took to reunite him with the other half of his soul.

"Next time," Axel panted, pressing his forehead against the smaller man's, "next time I'll find you sooner, and you'll remember. Next time."

"Yeah. I'll be waiting."

despite the fact that I find this particular piece to be my lamest attempt at writing in the last two years, I will shamelessly flirt for reviews anyway. xx