A/N

Hey, it's Sky again, your favorite fanfic writer... brick'd

(I know everyone just loves me and my crappy sarcastic remarks...)

Well, here's the deal:

There may be some words considered profane by some, yaoi (BL/Shounen Ai), and stupid grammatical mistakes. BEWARE...

Disclaimer: ... Squeenix software, games, etc, would be VERY different... Be happy I DON'T own them, okay?

Enjoy and Ja ne till later!

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The year is Summer, 2013

A soft rustling was heard as a bundle of flowers in a plastic and paper wrapping was dropped onto the ground before a grave-marker. The flowers were white daffodils and tulips, along with a single red rose and a lone black rose. The colors were very peculiar for being a present for the grave… Around that one marker was brightly, happy colored flowers, hydrangeas, lilies, more tulips, pansies; eye-pleasing and fragrant flowers, in other words.

The figure just stood there, hand held out slightly, above the grave from where he dropped the bouquet, then looked up from the flowers, gaze lingering on the single black rose before traveling up to the sky - or more accurately, the window of the house in front of him, across the street.

Behind that window, a slightly tanned face grew slightly hot, and blue eyes averted to the passing cars, arms folded on the indoor-sill. He looked up through dark lashes, and, making sure the redhead in the cemetery had looked away, went back to observing him.

That lanky teen who always came to the cemetery fascinated Roxas to no end. He couldn't get enough of that puzzle he was sure surrounded him. Why always the monotone flowers…? Only black, white and red flowers…? And always the same kinds of flowers for each color. Never a red tulip, never a pink rose, never a yellow daffodil.

And the days the spiky-haired figure didn't bring flowers, he just stood there, staring at the grave, eyes slightly wide with anguish or fear. Mostly fear over the latter.

Roxas didn't understand why he was so scared of the grave, or why he always came back to it. He also didn't understand why no one else in the cemetery seemed bothered by the mini fits he'd throw on some days.

The blonde gasped when emerald eyes locked into his gaze, making him freeze. His body ceased taking orders from his brain, lungs stopping proper function for a few moments. At least today he wasn't looking tortured about it.

Next thing he knew, he was fumbling with the handle on the glass door at the front of his house, then walking across the street, dodging traffic and earning himself an earful of car horns.

But when he got to that grave, the lanky redhead was nowhere to be seen. Roxas spun around in a circle, searching desperately for those fiery red spikes. His gaze settled on the gravestone, reading the engraving.

'Axel Hotaru

April 8, 1989 – August 13, 2008

Hope Your Fires Still Burn

…

Forever'

"Axel…" Roxas whispered, bushing his fingers over the bold lettering. He snatched his hand back as an image of that redhead appeared behind his eyes. That was impossible… Everyone knew that ghosts didn't actually exist. It was all strings, smoke and mirrors… Illusionist's works…

He smiled at himself and shook his head, walking away from the grave. The blonde was almost laughing at his ridiculous assumptions as he crossed the street again, choosing a much safer time to run across.

When Roxas closed the glass door behind him, he got the funny feeling someone was watching him… Someone with bright green, cat-like eyes and fiery red hair… His head whipped around, blonde locks falling into his eyes, but not enough to effectively say no one was there… Not a single soul, and especially no one with red hair as fiery…

He chuckled at himself. Those Goosebumps books had to have gotten to his head. Roxas blinked, blue eyes glazing over slightly as he headed for the room with the window facing the street and cemetery.

That room was the dining room… Or, what used to be the dining room, really… Piles of papers cluttered the once visible fancy maple tabletop. Roxas moved some of the piles out of the way and put his laptop down on the surface he found below, and turning it on.

A little colony of papers on the far edge of the table decided to fall. Well, commit suicide may have been a more appropriate term. The papers fell in all directions, some larger groups thudding to the floor.

Roxas ignored this little symphony of thuds, patters and whispy noises, attention completely on the computer. He clicked open the web browser, keyboarding in the Google website.

The blonde honestly had no clue as to what he was doing, and realized he was typing Axel Hotaru into the Google Search Engine. Only 6 hits… He clicked the first site. As the page was loading, Roxas read it was an obituary.

Of course… He was searching a dead guy, wasn't he?

The browser page went white as the internet received the page's contents. Just as the background layout appeared, the laptop's screen went black. Roxas blinked rapidly at the machine in front of him, mouth dropping open.

Apparently, his laptop has just ran out of power… The blonde fumbled around, looking for the charger cable.

"Damn… Where is it…?" He lifted a few more papers, causing more to join those sprawled over the floor. Roxas stormed out of the once-dining room, and proceeded to search the other rooms in the flat.

After a few not-so-healthy sounding crashes and bangs, the blonde came back into the dining room, holding the charger cord for the laptop. He froze in the doorway though, staring at the floor.

The mess of papers was gone. Every single one was restacked on the table, and each pile was neatened up, the laptop was placed on the chair and closed. As he finally walked into the room, he realized it smelt a little like cinnamon. He looked over the careful piles, breaths shallow. There was one paper missing… A paper he'd written about himself one lazy afternoon. Roxas closed his eyes, deciding he liked that warm cinnamon smell, and plugged the laptop into the outlet via cable.

He knew the laptop took a while to charge and was really slow when charging, so instead of continuing his spontaneous web search on the laptop, he grabbed his wallet, and headed out.

Impulsively, Roxas looked up at the graveyard. The redhead was back, barely visible. His red hair caught the dying rays of light from the sinking sun, making it look all the more ablaze.

From the distance he was at, the blonde had a little trouble seeing details, but thought he saw a piece of paper in his hands. The lanky redhead seemed to be reading the sheet he held, sitting on the corner of the grave-marker he always visited.

Roxas smiled softly, then turned around and went back into his flat just as the sun completely disappeared behind the trees. Street lamps slowly flickered on, illuminating the streets.

The blonde sighed, walking through the 'dining room' to his bedroom. There was also a window facing the cemetery in this room, but was covered by sheen, white drapes.

He threw on a grey and white tee and long grey shorts, slipping into bed. The last thing he thought about before drifting to sleep was the fiery light in that redhead's hair.

And for the next few days of summer vacation, Roxas just lounged around by the window in the 'dining room.'

A/N

Annnddddd... End Chapter one.

Comments are much appreciated.

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