Author's Notes: I hope I still have an okay grasp on the characters. I've never put them into this situation before (especially Axel), so I hope I handled them fairly realistically and perhaps believably. Sometimes I feel like I make Axel out-of-character in AUs, because being a Nobody is a large part of who he is in canon, and in an AU he just isn't. I guess it's just each author's interpretation?

This is also my first big jump back into the fandom, so I'd really appreciate hearing what you think or feel about the story. Please?

I have people to thank.

Thanks to: the band Barenaked Ladies for the song that first inspired me, my friends for withstanding my questions on their past break-ups, and my own exes for, well, being exes.

Because we all have them eventually.

"The Old Apartment"

by: Rosalyn Angel

-

This falling-out began as many falling-outs did.

Exhibit A: a steady decline in the amount of sex.

Axel watched curiously as Riku collapsed onto their bed and threw an arm over his face. The mattress bounced and squeaked in protest.

"I am so tired," Riku mumbled.

Axel stood on the side opposite of his boyfriend, diligently stripping himself of any and all clothes right down to his boxers. They made a delightful little pile of stinky sweat on the floor. "Tell me about it," he drawled. "Boss had me working overtime today."

Riku's nose crinkled from underneath his arm. "I can tell."

Axel gave a dry laugh and slid off his boxers. "You poke at the underbelly of cars all day and see if you come out smelling like flowers."

With that he tossed his underwear in Riku's general direction. Satisfied with the "augh!" he received, he strut off to the shower gloriously naked.

It was a mere fifteen minutes till he returned. The bedroom was dark, so Axel fumbled over to the dresser and felt for the second handle down. The drawer scraped open and he plucked out the first pair of boxers he came across. The cotton clung unpleasantly to his wet skin when he slipped them on.

Then Axel turned and met the foot of the bed. The window blinds to his left let in little to no light, yet he could still see the faint form of Riku, facing the window and away from him. Warmly cocooned beneath the blankets, Riku slept on his side, one hand near his face while the other rested on top the covers. His long silver hair was pulled up and out so that he didn't lie on it.

With a grin Axel walked to the bed, his spiky hair still damp from the shower, and crawled over to his boyfriend on all fours. "Hey," he said.

Riku's eyes didn't open. "Hm?"

"You wanna…" Axel licked his lips. "You wanna do anything?"

For a short moment there was nothing. Axel stared and watched the blankets rise and descend with Riku's breath.

And then, he heard the quiet answer: "Not tonight." After a pause Riku added on, "Maybe later."

Axel's grin slowly fell. "Oh," he said, sitting back on his heels. "Well. That's fine. I mean," he rolled his shoulders, "we both had long days. It's no problem."

Riku tucked one hand under the pillows. "Sorry," he muttered.

"No," Axel quickly said, scooting over to his side and kicking the covers down. "No problem."

There wasn't anything beyond that. Riku's back faced him the entire night. They hadn't had sex for weeks.

Exhibit B: petty arguments with an underlying tension.

"Did you get it?"

Riku glanced up from the groceries he was unpacking. "Get what?"

Axel grabbed one plastic bag and filtered through it. Shampoo, hand soap, toilet bowl cleaner… "The motor oil," he explained. "I asked you to get some before you left."

Riku grabbed the bag back. The plastic crinkled when he set it on the kitchen counter. "I looked," he said. "I didn't know which kind you wanted."

Axel sighed deeply and rubbed his forehead. "10W-30. It's the kind I always get."

Riku opened a cabinet above and to the right of the sink and began categorizing the canned food: vegetables on the bottom shelf, soups in the middle, and the rare canned fruit at the top. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"You could've called," Axel groused with a frown, snatching his TV dinners and stuffing them into the freezer.

Riku finished off one bag and bunched it up. The crackling annoyed Axel to no end. "I didn't think about it."

"You sure didn't." Axel shut the freezer door and crossed his arms. "I need that oil."

Riku turned to him. His hands clutched the bag tightly, his aqua eyes narrowing. "I said I was sorry."

"I know," Axel said, staring right back. "My ears work great."

"You could've come along," Riku retorted calmly—at least, calm was on the surface. Axel knew from experience, though, that bitter sarcasm was a definite way to set his boyfriend off. "Or get it yourself."

Yeah, he probably could've tagged along. But Axel chose to ignore that first part. "I'd get it myself if my car didn't have a leak," he said.

Riku finished narrowing his eyes and stalked to the trashcan. He stepped on the pedal that flipped up the lid and then stashed the empty bag in.

Axel read Riku's lack of response as growing irritation. "An oil leak," he flippantly added on. "In the oil."

Riku returned to the counter and reached for another bag—

"Which you didn't get."

—but ended up slamming his hand down instead. "Fine. I'll go back and get the oil."

The smack Riku's palm had made was strangely satisfying. "Thanks," Axel said sardonically, arms still crossed. "I appreciate it."

Riku shot him a dark look as he took his keys and wallet from the counter. (He always placed them next to the microwave, which was in the corner near the door.) "Put away the rest of the groceries," he ordered lowly, and then twisted the doorknob and walked out.

Axel stared at the closed door for a good while before glancing to the plastic bags still cluttering the kitchen. They sat, dejected and wrinkled.

In all honesty, the oil leak wasn't really that bad.

Lastly, Exhibit C: violent outbursts.

Riku had that look on his face that clearly said he had been awaiting Axel's return. This look usually preceded something unpleasant.

Axel stood in the kitchen doorway in his blue-gray work clothes, staring into the living room where Riku sat on an off-white sofa. (It was decorated with blue and black throw pillows with little silver tassels at each corner. A white woolen blanket was also draped across the couch's back.) He had left his dirty shoes and socks at the door (but not before leaving one greasy print on the linoleum), and now curled his toes into the beige carpet, his heels still touching the cold kitchen floor.

Riku sat slouched over, elbows on knees and fingers folded. He looked up at Axel and stared.

"Sooo…" Axel began. "How was your day?"

The first words out of Riku's mouth were, "You were supposed to pay the rent this month."

Axel did not think before responding: "I was?"

That cost him dearly. "Yes," Riku said, quiet but no less dangerous. "I paid for it last month even though it was your turn. Remember?"

Wasn't that when Axel had that speeding tick… Oh. The memory floated to the surface of his brain in frightening clarity. "Shit," was his reaction. "I forgot."

Riku pursed his mouth. "You for—" He stopped himself with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "The landlord came today. The rent is three weeks late."

Axel agitatedly shook his head while biting his lip, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He scratched the back of his neck and then massaged it and then painfully dug his fingers into it before deciding to just spit the words out: "I can't pay it. I'm broke. I used almost all I had paying back some credit."

Riku stared at him with widened eyes and a straight mouth. "I reminded you two weeks ago," he said slowly and suspiciously. "You said you had it handled."

Double shit.

"I can't," Axel insisted, placing one hand on his hip and talking with the other. "I'm sorry, all right? I screwed up. Can't you do it?"

"No," Riku said tersely. "Axel…" Breathing out a name like that and closing his eyes at the same time meant he was at the end of his rope. Axel had half a mind to start running. "You said you'd do it. You said you had it handled."

But he, being Axel, stayed and got increasingly angry instead. It showed in the harsh jerks of his hand while he talked and in the way he subtly leaned forward, shoulders hunching ever-so slightly. "Well, obviously I don't," he spat. "Why can't you?"

Riku's eyes opened, and boy, did they ever pierce. "Don't act like this is my fault," he warned lowly.

"I…" Axel threw his hands up with an exasperated groan. "I wasn't! I said I screwed up, didn't I?"

"Why are you getting so angry?" Riku asked, and moved to stand up—to even out the battleground.

"I'm not getting angry," came out before Axel could stop it; but now that it had been said, he decided to stand by it despite the contrary. Proving Riku right was the last thing he felt like doing. "Why are you so defensive?" was his counterattack along with placing both hands on his hips.

Riku's brow furrowed and his fists clenched at his sides. His voice grew harsher and colder. "Don't turn this around on me, Axel."

Axel spread out his arms and shouted, "Then stop ordering me around!"

His boyfriend stared, aghast. "I don't order you—"

"Yeah, you do," he said. "You just said my name like I'm some dumb little kid, and frankly, I don't much appreciate that tone."

Riku put one hand to his forehead, thumb at his temple and fingers on his nose, and grimaced at the carpet. "I am not fighting with you about this."

"Why?" Axel asked with a sneer, arms still spread—kind of like those animals on the Discovery Channel trying to look bigger against an opponent, he thought. "Am I not worth your time?"

Riku shot him a glare. His hand still covered one eye. "Not when you're acting so immature."

"Ahh, see? See?" Axel said, pointing accusingly. "Dumb little kid."

For a moment he thought he had finally pushed his boyfriend over the edge and that death was forthcoming in a horribly painful and messy way. He saw Riku staring at his pointer finger like he wanted to rip it off, cut it off, or even chew it off if he could hold Axel down long enough.

"I am going," Riku said through gritted teeth, "to go see the landlord and ask for an extension. We'll figure something out later."

"Yeah," Axel spat, crossing his arms. "Run away like usual. You do that."

The glare he got was killer as Riku shoved past him to get to the door, which was opened and then slammed shut hard enough to rattle the spice rack hanging on the wall.

Axel took a long, deep breath. It became startlingly quiet.

That is, until he yelled in frustration and kicked his foot straight through the dry wall. The hole left behind was spectacular.

Now, after so long of these three things (A through C), something was bound to give. As it turned out, that something was Riku.

It was a restless Monday night. Axel lay awake farthest from the window, idly studying the outlines of the furniture on his side of the bed. There was a black nightstand displaying a silver stereo and several dirty glasses, a tall floor lamp next to that, a large closet with sliding doors that he put stuff inside to later forget, and finally the door that led into a short hallway and the rest of their home. The moonlight that managed to evade the blinds cast faint shadows along the plain white wall, glinting off the stereo and empty glasses.

This is our bedroom, Axel subconsciously thought. They'd been sleeping together in this room for two years.

But as he lay there, not moving and closing his eyes to pretend he was asleep, he felt Riku stir and sit up. He felt the blankets shift and heard the mattress squeak as his boyfriend leaned against the headboard with a soft sigh. Maybe Riku was just going to get up and grab a book from the bookshelf on his side of bed—some Conrad or Tolkien thing he liked so much, perhaps a modern adventure novel or historic text. Maybe he would sit in the reclining chair shoved into the corner and read till he fell asleep, or maybe he'd go into the living room so he'd have more light.

Riku didn't do any of that. Instead, Riku did this: "Axel."

Axel pretended not to hear. He lay snug and warm underneath the heavy comforter.

A little louder: "Axel."

He was asleep, honest. Sleeping very peacefully. Couldn't Riku see that?

"Axel, we need to talk."

And there it was.

Axel groaned and stretched out his limbs, arching his back like a waking cat. He blinked open his eyes as if they were crusted shut and then rolled over with a tired, annoyed look, hand shielding his face even though his sight was already well-adjusted. "Huh? What is it? I was sleeping."

Riku was sitting with his hands and eyes on his lap. His hair always looked wonderful at night, a little darkened but still silver bright. "We need to talk," he repeated quietly. "It's important."

Oh. Hell. "Can't it wait?" Axel asked. "I got work in the morning."

"No," Riku murmured. "It can't."

Axel supposed this was where he sat up, so he did—very calmly and very restrained. He leaned against the wooden headboard and expectedly watched. "Well?"

He saw it coming, really. All the signs pointed to it. Riku was subdued and his eyes were apologetic. It was the right time (they were alone) and the right place (in their bedroom, which was neutral ground). Riku always was thoughtful like that. Planning things out. Softening the blow.

And then, he opened his mouth and said it: "I think we need some time apart."

The air was far too silent for following something like that. All Axel could do was stare and think about how he really wished that could've wait till tomorrow. At least then he would have a shirt on.

Three and a half years he had been with this man. Two years had seen every waking moment with him.

"Can we…" Axel started, voice a little detached and eyes on the blankets. "Can we finish this tomorrow?"

Riku gazed at him with something akin to patience, pity, and maybe a hint of relief. "Yeah."

Axel nodded to himself and then scooted to lie down, turning onto his side to stare at the dimly-lit furniture. It took a couple of minutes for his (ex-)boyfriend to follow.

He really wished that could've waited.

Axel woke up at 6:44 on Tuesday morning, thirty-one minutes before his alarm usually told him to. He craned his head and looked at the small digital clock sitting on top of his stereo. The last red number on it changed. 6:45.

A few minutes later he was still awake and staring at the time.

With a low groan Axel sat up, blinking against the early morning sun, and then twisted his back to crack possibly every segment of his spine—the pop-pop-pop was intensely refreshing. Stretching out his arms and legs saw more bones popping, and he finished with a chorus of cracking from his fingers and toes. Feeling sufficiently loosened, he swung his feet to the floor and stood up with minimal wobbling.

He reached out to reset the alarm to wake Riku up in time for his classes. Then, he remembered the night before.

Riku slept innocently on his back, silver hair lying on the pillow and in his face, his mouth partially open with slow, even breaths. He was shirtless—always wore gray drawstring pants to bed—so Axel could see his collarbone and half of his chest before the blankets covered him up.

Axel's finger pressed the alarm button down with a click. The red numbers switched to 7:15—the time he should've woken up. He used the thumb of the same hand to change the hour to eight, and then began the arduous task of changing the minutes to zero.

Click. Click. Click.

This wasn't his clock. It was Riku's. His clock was still back at his old place—in a spare room at a friend's apartment. He wondered if it was still ticking, or if it had been unplugged and stashed away.

Click. 8:00. He released the button.

Axel journeyed to the black dresser next. He grabbed a fresh pair of underwear and white socks and then walked to the furniture's matching piece: a horizontal dresser (three drawers down and two drawers across) with a large wobbly mirror. Looking into the mirror proved depressing (he was too bony and thin), so he quickly left the bedroom.

The door across was the bathroom. He entered and flipped on the light. Each of the floor tiles was white with blue diamonds at the corners, and the wallpaper was light tan with a flowery border. (Very ugly, that wallpaper. A previous resident had put it up.) The bathroom accessories—toothbrush holder, soap dish, Kleenex box—were all blue; "To match the floor," Riku had said.

Riku liked blue. Everything he got was blue, yellow, white, or black.

There was also a window high above the toilet. It was small, but it faced the rising sun, so every morning when Axel took a piss he was illuminated by a golden light. Sometimes he liked to imagine singing angels.

He did his thing, flushed his imaginary angels away, and then began to vigorously brush his teeth. The toothpaste burned pleasantly as he worked. He swished it around in his mouth and then spit it into the sink. It lazily drained away.

He changed his underwear (hadn't showered last night), pulled on his socks while sitting on the toilet lid, applied deodorant, and brushed out his red hair. After that he left the bathroom, passed through the living room, and went into the kitchen.

Axel looked down. The hole in the dry wall was still there. He smirked at it.

The kitchen was mostly taken up by a high table in the corner, the top of which was gray marble and unbearably heavy. The phone and fax machine sat on it, along with an empty vase. It was never used for eating.

The cabinets were a light brown. He opened one and brought out the coffee. The coffeemaker itself was between the microwave and sink.

He let it broil while he fetched his work clothes from the dryer; they were put on right away. A white badge over the shirt's left breast read "Axel" in cursive.

When the coffee was done, he poured it and added sugar (which was kept out next to the maker), and went to sit on the living room's off-white sofa. A loveseat of the same color was perpendicular to the sofa with a round coffee table made of dark mahogany between them. Sitting prettily in its stand was the silver TV with a whole mess of wires, speakers, and a DVD player around it.

Axel sipped his coffee. It made a slurping noise.

That was his TV. He had brought it over from his old place because Riku's had been so tiny and outdated.

Finishing his coffee finished his morning routine. He ran water into the mug and left it in the kitchen sink, then grabbed his wallet, cell phone, and keys from the counter while simultaneously slipping into the sneakers he never untied.

The doorknob was hell to turn—always felt like something was jammed—so he had to forcefully twist it before leaving the apartment and locking it behind him. Once outside he took a long whiff of the town's clean air and walked to his car: a 1998 dark green Nissan.

Her engine purred when turned on. Axel could almost imagine she didn't have that leak.

So there he sat, surrounded by a leather interior, with his hands on the wheel and the car in park. The apartment building's orange brick wall was before him. He felt oddly numb.

I think we need some time apart.

Axel looked to his phone.

"Screw it," he grumbled, and called in sick.

The heavy thump of techno music was heard long before Demyx ever opened the door.

Axel rose an eyebrow.

"Hey there," Demyx greeted over the music with a toothbrush in one hand. He still wore his pinstripe pajamas and his dark blond hair was hanging down, limp and not styled. "You came quick."

Axel rubbed the back of his neck. His voice was almost lost in the thudding beats. "Yeah, uhh… Sorry. I was already ready when I called."

"For work?" Demyx peered at his nametag.

"I skipped," Axel explained bluntly. "Are you gonna let me in or not?"

"Oh, right, right." The blond stepped aside and waved his redheaded guest in. "Your boyfriend's not gonna be happy when he finds out you skipped, you know."

Yeah. Right. Boyfriend. "That's why he won't find out," Axel mumbled, eyeing the living room. It was just as messy as when he lived here.

Demyx grinned and walked past his friend to disappear into a tiny hallway. "Make yourself at home," his voice called back. "I'll be just a minute."

Axel stared at where Demyx had gone before turning his attention back to the living room. It was so different from the apartment, from where he lived now. The floor was wooden—no carpet—and the instead of a sofa was a futon with a metal frame, pushed against the wall opposite of the door and folded into its couch form. In the center of the room was a low glass table that Axel thought was shaped like a lima bean.

The techno music, loud and wall-shaking, came from portable speakers hooked into a laptop that was sitting on the table. The speakers were round things that changed color to the beat of the music—they were small, but they had "oomph," as Demyx had said. Around the laptop were CDs, both store-brought and burned, set into numerous stacks, along with the notebook Demyx often wrote his half-finished songs in. A rental movie here and there accompanied them.

Axel stepped forward and turned the volume down.

There was a TV across from the futon, a tall silver floor lamp (its identical twin was in his apartment bedroom, actually), a reclining chair, and finally an end table littered with books on musical history and—strangely enough—beginner's guides to computer hacking.

He turned around, bypassed the kitchen, and stepped into the hallway, which ended in three doors: one at the end and two to either side. The one at the end was closed—the bathroom, where Demyx was sprucing up. The one to the left was Demyx's bedroom, and the one to the right should be…

Axel walked into his old bedroom.

His clock was gone. That was sort of depressing.

It wasn't much like he remembered it. Granted he hadn't visited for a few months, and he'd moved out his stuff long before that, but still...

Apparently Demyx had shoved all of his junk in here. Small and big boxes, some opened and some not, were placed throughout the room. A large keyboard was set up with a Macintosh desktop computer next to it, and at least three different guitars were displayed nearby. There were makeshift pathways, formed by boxes, to each part of the room: one to the keyboard and computer, one to the guitars, and one to the bare mattress lying in the far corner.

"I kinda turned it into a work-slash-storage room," Demyx's voice said from behind. "Hope you don't mind."

"Huh?" Axel said, a little dazed. Demyx walked forward to stand beside him. "Oh. Nah. It's fine." He should've visited earlier and stopped the blond from desecrating his old room. Why did it bother him so much, anyway?

Demyx was dressed in baggy jeans that hung low on his hips; a thin strip of his boxers could be seen above the belt. His hair was also spiked up on top with gel. "Hey, why'd you wanna come over so early?" he asked with a small frown. "It was kinda, well, sudden, you know? I mean," he held up his hands, "not that you're not welcome. I'm happy to see you."

Axel was staring at the spot where his TV had been. He felt detached from his body as his mouth opened and said, "Riku broke up with me."

"Wha… Riku? Your boyfriend?" He heard Demyx shuffle nervously. "Oh. Oh, man. Are you serious? You're not joking with me, right?"

Axel gave him a flat look.

Demyx visibly winced. He stuck his hands into his pockets and bit his lip. "Oh. Oh, damn, man. That sucks. Really sucks. Uh… C'mon." He walked out the door and motioned for the redhead to follow. "Sit in the living room. I'll get you a drink."

Axel obeyed with a slow, bobbing nod. In the living room he sat on the futon and slouched, staring disinterestedly at the laptop. Demyx gazed at him worriedly before going to the kitchen. When he returned he brought two shot glasses of clear liquor.

"Here," Demyx offered, sitting down and holding one out. Axel took it while Demyx reached forward to shut off the music. The quiet immediately bore down on them. "So," the blond began uncertainly, "what happened? Things were going good, weren't they?"

Axel looked at him for a long, silent moment while remembering the hole in the kitchen wall. "Yeah," he muttered. "Things were—things were good." He nodded. "They were good."

Demyx shook his head thoughtfully, the shot glass held up to his mouth. He took a small sip before saying, "That's rough. You were together for three years, right?"

"Three and a half," Axel corrected. He took a larger sip.

Demyx whistled lowly. "Three and a half. Wow. Lotta time."

"Yeah," Axel agreed.

Demyx coughed. "Well. You know. Uh…" Suddenly, he determinedly set his drink onto the lima bean table and turned to his friend with a solemn face. Axel backed away a little. "I am here for you," Demyx said strongly and sincerely. "I will be your mountain to lean on. I will be… I will be…! Your…" His brow knitted together while his eyes glanced everywhere like some sort of epiphany was dawning in his mind. When next he spoke, it was in half-muttered song: "I will be your foouunda-a-aaa-tion to lean ooon…" He reached for his notebook and started jotting down lyrics.

Axel stared. "Thank you," he said flatly, "for that."

Demyx looked up from the page like the kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Oh. Sorry. It, uh, happens. You know."

The redhead took a nice, long sip and slumped in his seat.

"Listen," Demyx began again, putting the notebook away. His voice was softer this time, his concerned green eyes on Axel's face. "Seriously. If you need anything, just ask. I could even fix up your room again."

Axel glanced at him.

"I mean, you're not gonna keep living with him, right?" Demyx explained. "You're gonna need a place to stay."

Axel's eyebrows rose. "I guess I am."

The blond smiled reassuringly. "So, does that mean I'm getting my roommate back?"

Axel thought that was secretly what he had hoped for all along. "Yeah," he said, "I guess you are."

Axel came home around the same time he would've if he had gone to work. Riku would never, ever have to know that he had actually spent the day watching rental movies at Demyx's. He had even smeared a little oil on his shoes for good measure.

Axel had to wrestle with the doorknob once or twice before entering. He slipped off his sneakers by the door, put his things next to the microwave, and walked into the living room to find his (ex-)boyfriend sitting on the loveseat with a book in hand.

Riku looked up. His reading glasses were perched on his nose. Axel stared at them and remembered how he had sometimes pulled them off and—

But now Riku slid the glasses off by himself, folding them and the book closed. "Welcome back," he said, guarded, as if bracing himself for a fight.

Axel wondered if he should give him one. "Thanks," he drawled. "Classes go well?"

Riku nodded absently. "Yeah, they did."

Damn, this was awkward. Axel massaged the back of his neck. "Look, I—" he started the same time as Riku said, "Axel, we need to—"

They both stopped. Axel waved his hand. "You go first."

The glasses and book were set onto the coffee table. Riku sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "We need to figure out what we're going to do."

"Actually, I already took care of it," Axel said flippantly. "Demyx offered me my old place back."

Was that relief on Riku's face? "Oh," he breathed out. "So you're…?"

"I'm moving out," Axel clarified. "I'll start packing tomorrow."

Riku nodded to himself. "That's… good."

Yeah, for you. "Yep."

He stood up, taking his glasses and book with. "I'll be in the bedroom," he said, and then left. Axel watched him go.

When the bedroom door closed, he flopped onto the sofa and grabbed the remote from the table. Some mindless TV was definitely in order.

They ignored each other like that for the rest of the night. Axel didn't even bother to get up and change out of his work clothes. There was a fascinating program on about wild cats, anyway—lots of blood and dead things were involved. He tilted his head as a zebra was taken down and the narrator droned on.

When Riku next appeared he was in his gray drawstring pants, all ready for bed. It wasn't until he cleared his throat that Axel looked at him over his shoulder. He seemed uneasy and hesitant. "It's late. Are you going to…" he trailed off.

Oh. "I'll sleep out here," Axel said casually. "Could you bring the clock out?"

Riku nodded wordlessly and walked away. A few minutes later the clock was plugged in next to the sofa, Riku was shut back in the bedroom, and Axel was left alone with his dead, depressing zebra.

First night not sleeping in his own bed. By choice.

He'd start packing tomorrow.

"You liar. You weren't sick."

Axel craned his head out the car window. There stood a haughty blond woman, hands on her wide hips and a smug smirk in place. She wore the same blue-gray work clothes he did, but her nametag read "Larxene".

"You want in?" he asked, one arm hanging out. "Haven't tested this one yet."

Larxene critically eyed the dark red pick-up truck. It was parked outside of the service station where they worked—they always had to test drive each vehicle before tinkering around with it.

"Piece of shit truck," she concluded. "Let me in."

Axel frowned deeply while unlocking it. He would've found it an attractive car if it weren't for the smell of cigarettes and empty soda cans on the floor.

Larxene walked around the front and jumped into the passenger seat, slamming the door afterward. Axel leaned back, buckled in, and turned on the engine. It roared mightily and then whined pathetically.

"Sad," he muttered. He swiveled around to see where he was backing up to.

Larxene sat with her legs crossed, picking at the grease underneath her nails. "So where were you?" she asked.

"Demyx's," he said. The truck pulled into the small, lineless road and puttered to the stop sign. "Once around the block, you think?"

"If it makes it that far," she said, sneering. "Why were you at Demyx's? You haven't been there for ages. Usually you meet up halfway."

"Yeah, so?" Shit. Larxene was the last person he wanted finding out. Ever.

Her sneer grew. "Did something happen?" she asked gleefully. "Something bad?"

"No," he replied curtly. Why did he let her in again? "We were just hanging out."

Her light green eyes grew brighter. "Something did happen," she whispered.

God damn, how did she just know? Axel gripped the thick steering wheel and gave it a little more gas. There was a loud whistling coming out of the engine that really shouldn't be there.

Larxene stomped her feet excitedly, jostling the soda cans around. "Tell me," she demanded. "Tell me what happened. It's something bad. You got that pissy look on your face."

"I'm not telling you a damn thing," he snapped, eyes on the road.

Larxene flapped her hand. "Okay, okay, I'll guess. Let's see…" She held her chin in deep thought. "Your… grandmother died."

Why did she say that so happily? He had such messed up friends. "No."

"Someone had a severe bodily injury?"

"No."

"Riku broke up with you?"

"N—what?"

She burst into a fit of happy giggles, hands clasped and swinging. "Ah, I knew it! I told you. I told you it was gonna happen eventually."

And this was why he had gone to Demyx first. "Yeah. Laugh it up." Bitch.

"You never listen to me," she suddenly pouted, lip sticking out. "I'm right about everything, so why don't you listen to me?"

"Because you make my ears bleed," he deadpanned. The truck pulled around another corner, turning back the way it came.

Larxene couldn't keep the sad face for long. It burst into a smirk again. "Aw, is poor Axel-Waxel in emotional pain?" she lilted.

"You know, I really don't want to talk about this with you," he said pointedly. "So you need to shut the hell up." Maybe he could run a stop sign and have someone crash into the passenger's side.

The smirk fell, her eyes narrowing. "Geez. Get over it," she spat. "You're better off without him, anyway."

Axel pursed his lips and didn't answer. Larxene snorted and crossed her arms, leaning moodily against the door.

"… This car smells like ass."

It really did. Axel choked down a laugh.

Demyx had been kind enough to let him borrow some of his empty boxes. They were folded up and stashed into the back of Axel's Nissan, along with packaging tape and trash bags. The plan was to gather enough stuff to come back and start spending the night in his old room.

"You sure you don't need any help?" Demyx asked while Axel was getting in his car.

"Don't worry, I got it handled," the redhead assured. "It'll just take a few trips over the week, and then I'll be outta there forever." It'd only take one if he had more money and a moving truck.

Demyx patted the hood of the car. "See ya in a couple hours, then."

When Axel had arrived, Riku had been washing dishes by hand (there was no dishwasher; something the redhead had greatly bemoaned).

"I got boxes," he greeted with an armful.

Riku thoughtfully eyed the cardboard, holding a black plate in one hand and a soapy sponge in the other.

"Gonna start in the bathroom," Axel clarified.

Riku caught on and went back to his task. "I'll stay out here, then."

The bathroom had been fairly simple. (That wallpaper was so ugly.) His toothbrush, shaving cream, razor, hairbrush, shampoo, conditioner, and a few medicines (colds, headaches) that he didn't think Riku would miss were dumped unceremoniously into a taped-up box.

And now Axel was in the apartment bedroom, filtering through the junk in the closet with sliding doors. He could still hear the kitchen faucet running. Riku was taking it nice and slow.

Two boxes were assembled and taped together beside him, one half-full of bathroom things and one still empty, while the others were leaning against the wall. Axel was shoving things aside, looking for any lost treasures.

He found a couple of his nicer clothes hanging up. Those, along with his entire underwear and sock drawer, had been put into a trash bag—not to throw away, of course. Trash bags just held a lot of stuff. He bet he could fit half of his wardrobe in one if he really tried.

He found a few oddities that stood out, too. There were two five-pound weights he had sworn he lost, some broken headphones, a stale bag of chips he had hidden away and then forgotten (he left that in there), a gigantic stuffed mouse he had won at a theme park, and some photographs still in their Walgreens envelope.

Axel held the envelope in his hand and sat down on the floor. Curious, he flipped open the cover and shook the stack of pictures out. The negatives fell onto his lap, too, but he stuffed those back in.

Oh. He remembered these.

Weird. They both looked so happy in them.

The pictures had been taken around a year ago. Most of them were unplanned—Axel's doing, no doubt—taken during moments of genuine smiles and breathless laughter. They weren't professionally done by any means (a few were too dark, a lot had redeye), but they worked well enough to help him remember.

He set them aside two at a time (they had developed doubles to share) and looked through the entire stack. There was a picture of Riku sitting by a fountain in the city square, head back and eyes closed, dressed in jeans and a sleeveless black shirt. The spouting water was blurry in the background, but Riku was clear, peaceful, and content. The next photo had Axel with him, arms wrapped around and chin on his shoulder.

There were pictures of other people: Larxene, Demyx, and Riku's friends. There were pictures of him and Riku with other people. Pictures alone, pictures together. Pictures while out and pictures while home.

Why was he looking at these, he wondered?

When did they stop taking pictures, anyway?

Why had he forgotten they were even there?

Axel held the last photo in his hand. He held it up to the light, which shined across it.

It was of Riku and him. No redeye in this one. It was actually pretty nice—wasn't too dark, wasn't overexposed. Riku's smiles were usually small—much smaller than Axel's wide grins—but it was so obvious that he meant it in that picture.

They both looked so happy.

Axel slowly set it down with the rest. Three and a half years, he thought.

The kitchen faucet was turned off then.

He hurriedly straightened out the photos, stuck them into the envelope, and tossed them into the closet. They fell down somewhere in the back.

Shortly afterward there was a knock on the door and Riku glanced in. Axel was busy filtering through the closet once more, sometimes chucking whatever it was he found into a box.

"Hey," Riku called softly. "Do you… Do you need any—"

"No," Axel bit out. He didn't look over.

There was a short pause, a very quiet pause, then the door was shut again and Axel was alone.

Three and a half years.

He got what he needed and left.

"We had our first kiss in the backseat of my car."

Demyx paused in fixing his dinner and glanced at Axel, who sat slouching at the kitchen table. Some samba music played on the laptop speakers in the background. "Huh?"

Axel was rolling a pencil back and forth between his hands. There was a cluster of them at the table's center, along with napkins, ketchup, mustard, and salt and pepper shakers. At the far wall was a curio cabinet stocked full of different types of fancy alcohol, along with figurines of people dancing or performing—the blond's proud collection.

"First kiss," Axel repeated detachedly. "Backseat of car. Sex followed."

"Yeeeah," Demyx drew out. He piled some ham and lettuce onto his sandwich. "Are we… you know… talking abooout…?"

"Yeah," Axel mumbled, "we are." The pencil rolled.

"Oh," Demyx said and looked to the ceiling. "That's… good. I guess."

Suddenly Axel straightened and stared at his friend with such intensity that it was a little scary. "You wanna know how we met?"

Demyx seemed uncertain. He threw on the second piece of bread, closed the cabinet he had been working from (which was a rustic color, Axel noticed, not light brown like the apartment's) and slowly sat down across from the redhead. "… I thought you met through a friend."

Axel scratched the back of his head. "Kinda. He was the friend of a friend of a friend."

Demyx paused halfway through a bite with wide, questioning eyes. He finished it and chewed leisurely, gulping it down before asking, "What?"

Axel sighed impatiently. "He was the friend," a pause, "of a friend," another pause, "of a friend."

Demyx took another slow bite, chewing in a way that dimly reminded Axel of a cow.

"Okay, look," he said, glancing around for anything to use. He spotted the items at the table's center—the ketchup, mustard, and salt and pepper shakers—and pulled them forward, neatly lining them up. "This?" He pointed to the mustard. "This is me."

Demyx peered at it with a puckered brow. "Why aren't you the ketchup?"

"Fine," Axel said, switching them around. "I'm the ketchup. The salt's Riku."

Demyx nodded.

"So," Axel began, "the mustard and I are friends." He pushed the ketchup and mustard together. "And the mustard's friends with the pepper." Those two were squished together. "And the pepper's friends with the salt."

"Right," Demyx said, leaning forward to get a better view.

Axel didn't know whether he was getting humored or if the blond was actually interested. "So the mustard and pepper conspired with each other, and introduced the ketchup and salt." He pushed the items into their appropriate groups and finished with, "And that's how we met." But for some reason his mouth opened again and the words kept rolling out: "Then the ketchup and salt went on a few dates, had good times, even moved in together, but the salt dumped the ketchup because the salt is a mother fuc—"

"Whoa, okay," Demyx interrupted, holding up his hands (and half-eaten sandwich). "Got the picture."

"Three and a half years," Axel rasped, glaring at the salt. "We spent three and a half years together. I just wanna… Raarrgh!" He viciously grabbed the salt shaker and shook it. Little grains flew out.

Demyx hesitantly reached forward. "Uhh, please don't break my salt shaker."

Axel's arms were tired from carrying in boxes, anyway. He laid the salt onto the table with a clunk but kept his grip on it. His head soon followed.

"Maybe… Maybe you should get to bed, man," he heard Demyx say. The blond probably had a sympathetic look on his face, and Axel wasn't sure why, but the thought just irritated him. "You'll feel better tomorrow."

"Yeah," he murmured, "maybe."

It was a couple of days before Axel felt like going back. It was Friday now—a day he usually had off—so he went over early when Riku wouldn't be home. He unlocked the door, wrestled with the knob, and let himself in. The boxes he had brought over before were still there, so he taped some up and went to work.

It was a lot easier roaming through the apartment without having to see Riku around. Perfectly fine, really; he didn't need anything else adding to his foul mood. He finished stuffing his clothes into different trash bags—wondered what Riku would do with the new drawer space—and finished picking through the closet. He ravaged the kitchen for all the food only he ate (TV dinners, corn chips, orange soda) and fished out all the DVDs he rightfully claimed as his.

By the time he had several boxes packed, Axel was sweating and walking through the rooms for anything else he might take that day. Although the trunk was full, there was still some room in the backseat.

He stepped into the living room and scanned it.

The TV sat prettily in its stand.

That was his TV, he remembered. He had brought it over. He should take it back.

The wires were unplugged. Axel tested out its weight before lifting it. It took some doing, but it fit rather snugly into the remaining spot in his backseat. The DVD player and speakers were placed on the floor underneath it.

He went back inside, breathing heavily and wiping the sweat off his brow. The living room looked emptier now.

After one more check in each room, Axel readied himself to leave. He figured one more trip after this would finish it off.

Then, he saw it.

Axel stood disbelievingly in the kitchen, eyes lowered and teeth gritting.

"He plastered over it," he muttered furiously. "He plastered over my God damned hole."

Axel would've done the same, if he thought about it. But that had been his hole in the kitchen wall, not Riku's. He could've at least waited a few more days when Axel wouldn't be around to notice it.

That. Bastard.

Axel turned around and saw the coffeemaker.

Out of spite, he took that, too.

"He's pushy, controlling, and way too obsessive," Axel complained as he looked under the dashboard and popped the hood. It opened with a loud clunk. "He doesn't even have a functional kitchen table! It's just a table in the kitchen with crap on it."

Larxene was leaning against the back door, arms crossed and smiling devilishly. They were inside the service station, surrounded by the smells and noises of their work. "I'm glad you're finally seeing things my way," she said. "You were never a match for each other."

Axel suddenly remembered the pictures in the closet, but he pushed them down and away. He walked to the front of the blue (Riku liked blue) car and unhooked the hood, letting it fly open. "Treated like me a stupid kid," he added on, glaring at the exposed engine. "Glad I only got one trip left over there. Already got the TV."

Larxene guffawed. "Wait, wait," she said, waving a hand. "You took his TV?"

Axel looked up at her with a frown. "It was my TV," he defended.

She blew out air through her lips, trying to hold back a grin. "You… You took his TV. You took his TV."

Axel agitatedly rubbed the back of his neck. "I didn't take it, all right? It was mine to begin with."

"But it was the only one he had," she said with impish eyes.

"Well," he said, "yeah."

Larxene couldn't hold it in any longer. She burst into laughter, doubling over and gripping her sides, eyes squinting and sometimes hitting the side of the car with her fist. Axel clenched his teeth, his hands already gloved, and went about checking the engine.

"You…" she said between giggles. "You stole… his only… Hahahaha…"

"I didn't steal it," he repeated sternly. "It was mine. I brought it over from my old place."

Larxene gave a happy little sigh as she calmed down enough to ask, "Your old place?" The obnoxious grin remained.

"My old place," he confirmed.

She rolled her eyes. "Don't you think the apartment's your 'old place' now?"

Axel paused, his hand over the oil cap.

He didn't know what it was about what she said, but it hit him—quick, deep, and painful.

Suddenly, he had a hard time feeling angry.

Axel lay on the bare mattress in his room at Demyx's. His only comforts were a blanket and pillow from the futon, but at least his old clock had been found and now sat on the floor next to him. Small pleasures, he supposed.

Most of the boxes had been moved to Demyx's bedroom to give Axel more space, but some still remained against the walls. The keyboard, computer, and guitars were allowed to stay until Demyx made room for them elsewhere. Across from the mattress and on the floor was Axel's TV. The cable wasn't yet hooked up to it, so it was turned off.

His room didn't look like much—didn't even really look like his room—but Axel figured it was still early in his stay. His floor lamp and stereo were still at Riku's apartment, along with a few knick-knacks that could easily be picked up. Maybe once they were added, it'd feel a bit more like home.

Yeah, he thought sardonically. Like home.

How depressing.

Luckily Demyx chose that moment to walk in with two shot glasses ready. He leaned over Axel with a grin and said, "Man, you look like you could really use this."

Axel heaved himself up and gratefully took the glass; the alcohol inside was amber-colored. He wondered what it was. "Thanks."

"No problem," Demyx said and carefully sat down next to him. "So how you doing?"

Axel put it to his mouth. "As well as I can be," he said into his drink.

Demyx sagely nodded and took a sip. Axel followed his lead. It tasted bitter.

"You know," Demyx abruptly began, looking at the wall, "it won't last forever."

He got a raised eyebrow in response.

"I mean, it'll be okay," the blond said. "You'll be okay."

Axel muttered, "Yeah, the alcohol does make it better."

Demyx frowned. "I thought there was less than I remembered. I'll have to start hiding it."

"Perks of a roommate," Axel replied, and then raised his glass in a cheer before taking another sip.

"I am glad you're back, though," Demyx said with a grin. "Got a little lonely."

"Yeah, well," Axel murmured, "thanks for having me."

"Sure thing," the blond said while standing up. "I'm gonna go watch some TV. Wanna come?"

Axel shook his head. "Nah. Gonna sleep."

"All right. Night, then," his friend said with a wave.

Axel returned it with a salute. "Later."

After Demyx left, he put the glass next to his clock and set the alarm for noon. Tomorrow was Monday, another day off. He'd go to the apartment and get his things for the last time.

He wasn't sure how to feel about that.

On Monday afternoon Axel woke up and got ready. He cracked every bone he could before standing up, and then shuffled through the trash bags on the floor for clothes. He brought them into the tiny bathroom and went through the usual motions: use the toilet, brush his teeth, apply deodorant, get dressed (into black jeans and a gray t-shirt), and fix his hair.

The bathroom tiles were pastel green instead of white with blue diamonds. There was no ugly wallpaper and no window to welcome to sun. The brass accessories didn't even match the floor.

He made his coffee in the kitchen with rustic cabinets and a functional table, and then sat on the futon with his cup. It took several minutes before he was awake enough to leave.

Axel arrived at the apartment early enough to finish packing before Riku would come home. He planned to leave a note saying he was done and wouldn't be coming back; he'd leave the key next to it for Riku to keep.

He stuck the key inside the lock and turned it while twisting the doorknob—a trick that usually worked. It didn't move, so he tried again, but it still wouldn't open. It was then Axel realized that his key wasn't even turning.

He had been locked out.

That. Bastard.

It was three hours and fourteen minutes before Riku came home. As soon as he entered the building Axel was there, arms crossed and eyes glaring, leaning against the apartment door.

Riku understood immediately. "I changed the lock," he said.

"Yes," Axel hissed, "you did."

"I'll let you in," Riku quietly offered and brought out his keys. His other arm held his textbooks and journal.

"Fantastic," Axel drawled, and moved aside.

The door was opened and he followed his (ex-)boyfriend inside, watching him place his things on the counter next to the microwave. He threw his useless key there as well.

Axel stepped out of his sneakers as Riku grabbed a water bottle (raspberry-flavored, he'd guess) from the fridge. "So," he began tightly, "mind informing me as to why the lock was changed?"

Riku gave him a sidelong look as he uncapped his water. "You stole the TV."

Axel groaned and threw up his hands. "It was my TV!"

"And the coffeemaker."

Okay, so he had stolen that. "Your point?"

Riku sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose as he walked into the living room. "You can't just take whatever you want," his voice trailed behind.

Axel gawked after him. Waiting for three hours and fourteen minutes had not been fun. "Well, why not?" he asked indignantly, arms spreading. "I lived here for two years, too, you know!"

Riku sat on the off-white sofa, looking down at the water bottle in his hands. He seemed tired. "Not everything is yours, Axel. I lived here first."

"The TV is," Axel argued, stepping through the kitchen doorway and into the living room. "And so is the floor lamp in the bedroom, and the stereo. You gonna say I can't have them back?"

Riku was rubbing his forehead. "No," he murmured, "they're yours. Go ahead and take them."

"Good," Axel spat with crossed arms. "Because I'm going to."

"Fine."

"Great."

"Axel…" his (ex-)boyfriend breathed out his name with closed eyes.

There was something so familiar about that that it ached. Made him angry, too. It was just one more reminder of what he no longer had. He really didn't need any more reminders. He had enough just waking up to another room, or getting through the day in someone else's home.

He had enough.

"I know this place, you know," Axel said quietly, looking around the room—at the sofa and its throw pillows, the loveseat, the coffee table, and the empty TV stand. "I can find my way through it in the dark."

He didn't see Riku's reaction because he had already turned around to look at the kitchen. "I know where everything is in here," he said, counting off each cabinet and drawer and all the things inside them.

Then Axel turned into the hallway; out of the corner of his eye he saw Riku warily watching him. He stopped at the bathroom door. "I hate this wallpaper, but I saw it everyday," he called back. "I got ready in here every morning. And this—!"

The bedroom he saw next. "I slept in this room for two years. I put my stuff in here. I woke up to it!"

Axel turned around again, and this time Riku was standing in the hallway, his water bottle left behind. His brow was knitted slightly and his aqua eyes were uncertain, but otherwise his face was unreadable.

"Don't you get it?" Axel asked, one hand over his chest and the other wildly gesturing. "This is my room. This is my home!"

Riku opened his mouth and began to say, "Axel—"

But Axel cut him off: "No!" His voice kept rising, kept getting louder; he was fueled by something he didn't know. "I moved here! I was happy here! This is… This is my home!"

Suddenly he was looking at everything again. He knew each piece of furniture, each wall, floor, and ceiling so clearly that it made him even angrier than before, because he kept remembering—he kept remembering himself and Riku in every room doing everyday things. It was stupid, he thought, just stupid.

But after being so angry for so long, he just couldn't keep it up. It was exhausting. He was tired of it. It just sort of crashed into him all at once, along with Riku's pretty gaze—the first thing Axel ever saw of him.

His bones were weary. His legs shook. He leaned against the wall on his back and began to slowly slide down. "This was," he whispered, "our home."

And that did it. That finally broke it. Axel slid all the way down to the floor, his long legs bent before him, and weakly chuckled before his throat began to constrict. He shoved one fist into his mouth and bit on a knuckle while muttering curses—his voice was starting to break, and he tried not to show it, but it was hard, really hard.

Riku didn't say anything as he kneeled next to him. He always was smart like that.

"I want it back," Axel was whispering, voice and shoulders shaking, the first few tears pricking at his eyes. "I just… want it back."

Riku softly spoke, "I'm sorry."

So much was said in those two words. It made Axel laugh, quiet and strained. "Yeah. Me, too."

There was nothing then, so he brought his knees up and rested his head in his arms. Riku didn't move to touch or comfort him.

But, after a while, he did say this: "I found those pictures in the closet. There were a few stacks."

Axel looked up; his face was redder and maybe a little wetter. He felt drained of everything. Maybe even calm. "What did you…" He coughed. "What did you do with them?"

"They're on the bed," Riku said quietly. "I thought we could go through them. Pick out which ones we want." He looked down. "If… If you wanted to."

Riku's eyes were shadowed in a way that said they had looked upon those photos recently. Axel coughed again and sniffled. "Yeah," he said, "we can do that."

Riku stood and offered his hand, and Axel took it if only to get to his feet. He followed Riku to the bedroom, wiping at his face.

Going through the pictures was both depressing and joyful. They spoke of better times—times when Axel remembered being so happy. But looking at them and dividing them up was so… so final. This is it, he thought. This is the end. The end of three and a half years.

Axel probably spent more time looking at Riku than the pictures.

He took two envelopes full of photos. He put them into a box, got his lamp and stereo, and packed his car with everything left.

He went back in to say he was leaving. Goodbyes were said. Uneasy smiles were exchanged. He couldn't help but wonder if they'd ever see each other again.

That first step he took out the door somehow seemed profound. In a way he supposed it was.

Axel looked at the building behind him—got in that one last glance.

And then, he walked away.

-fin