Axel frowned, scrunched up his brow, and stuck the eraser of his pencil in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

A few seconds later, he spat it out in disgust. He never could understand how people got over the taste of those things.

He was lying, stomach-down, on the comforter of his bed, trying his hardest to come up with a bit of good, sappy love poetry for Roxas. Personally, poetry made him want to vomit, but he had tried everything else that was supposed to work, so he figured he might as well give it a go. Hey, if it worked, he wouldn't be complaining. Right? Right…

Except for one tiny little problem. He only had two lines down so far, and the more he stared at what he had written, the more he got sidetracked.

"Though truly 'tis beyond compare,

The dusky blue of Saïx's hair…"

It was nice, Axel remembered. Like clouds right before a rainstorm. Axel hated the rain, but clouds were all right, he guessed. Sort of pretty. And the way that Saïx's hair fell gently past his shoulders was nice too – like water, except he hated water. Oh well, he didn't much like Saïx either, so that was okay.

I'd like him fine, thought Axel, if he wasn't so damn stiff all the time. Being around him's like being stuck in a blizzard. A really snooty, annoying blizzard. You'd think he'd leave the chilliness to Vexen – it's Vexie's job, after all. Eh well.

Axel rubbed one foot against the other thoughtfully.

And, he remembered, and he sucks up to Xemnas all the time! Man, talk about annoying. He always does exactly what the Superior says, like he doesn't even wanna think for himself. It's pathetic.

See, what he needs is a little chaos in his life. That'd wake him right up.

Axel grinned, envisioning it. Maybe Axel could play a trick on him somehow, something to get him worked up. Like stealing all his clothes from his dresser, or replacing his shower gel with Icy-Hot, or… or, better yet, taking photos of him in the shower! Awesome.

He chuckled, but an uneasy feeling was beginning to build up in him. It started in his empty ribcage, traced its way to the pit of his stomach, made his palms sweaty and his breath catch a little in his throat. Something was wrong with this picture. What had he been doing?

He looked down at the paper. Oh yeah. Roxas' poem.

"Though truly 'tis beyond compare,

The dusky blue of Saïx's hair…"

It was really pretty, thought Axel. Like light and music, like poetry. Then again, he hated poetry… but still…

"Oh, I give up!" Axel cried, and, crumpling the paper, tossed it toward the wire trash can in the corner. It exploded into flame, smoldering into pieces on the floor, until only smoke and ash remained. Donning his coat with abrupt fierceness, Axel stormed out of the room. He'd find Roxas, and tell him how he felt himself. And to hell with this poetry business.