Warnings: Sap. Use of my favorite four-letter word beginning with "F" (and no, it's not flip). Reference to pretty boys PARTAKING in the action of that delightful four-letter word.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Too bad. They put the SQUEEEEEEEEEE in Squeenix.
Summary: During Axel's first fight with Roxas in Twilight Town, he reflects on what's happening.
Notes: Reviews are my happy crack. Like kittens. But better.

Roxas is a classic nobody; he never cares either way. Demyx is flighty and playful, Xigbar is laid back, Axel was temperamental, but Roxas just doesn’t care at all. Axel is annoyed at first, when he first meets the guy, then intrigued. He starts hanging around Roxas, more than a little bit out of bored, trying to gain a better understanding of the Keyblade’s Chosen One but he is always the same: detached, cold, indifferent.

The only thing about him worth notice is his love of sea-salt ice cream.

Axel catches Roxas staring out the window more than once. Always the same. Roxas sits there, pensively working through sea-salt ice cream on a stick, brooding the way an older man might over a cigarette.

What does that childish obsession say about Roxas, Axel wonders. What does it say about his other?

Roxas looked at him sideways, head cocked, lips pursed, and eyes narrowed. For a second, Axel thought it might be in recognition until the moment churned on and Roxas’ expression showed no enlightenment. Anger, confusion, and fear lit on his childish features. Axel took a step forward. “You really don’t remember,” if a nobody could feel like a human, his voice might be broken with sadness, but instead it came out as another drawl. “It’s me,” he prompted, flipping back his hood. Maybe Roxas just hadn’t recognized his voice. “You know? Axel.”

Roxas just looked at him emptily, “Axel?”

“You always follow me around,” Roxas says irritably. “What do you want?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Axel drawls in return. “I’m bored. You’re interesting.”

Roxas looks at him over a shoulder, unnatural eyes colder than ever, “You must really be bored then.

“Guess so,” Axel quirks an eyebrow.

Roxas smiles back, more of a smirk really, “You like ice cream?”

“Hate it, why?”

“Talk about blank with a capital ‘B,’” Axel continued, his voice in the same dry tone, utterly devoid of emotion. “Man, oh, man, even the dusks aren’t gonna crack this one.” Heat furled in his hands as he summoned his chakram into his hands.

“Wait a sec,” Roxas demanded as he saw the weapons, “tell me what’s going on?”

“This town is his creation, right?” Axel nudged his head to the surrounding buildings. “Which means we don’t have time for a Q&A.” Come on, Roxas. Remember! Before that bastard knows I’m here. “You’re coming with me, conscious or not,” Axel promised tonelessly. “Then you’ll hear the story.” Because the alternatives if Roxas didn’t play nice would really suck.

Nobodies treat sex with indifference. Without hearts, what was the point of claiming to love? Bodies without hearts existed only to use one another. There was no love making. Just release. A good fuck.

Roxas should have learned that lesson with Axel. Instead, he clings to Axel. When Roxas kisses him, Axel could swear he remembers what it was like to have a heart. Why he wants a heart so badly.

He spread his arms wide and then brought them back down, spinning his chakram in a threatening motion. The air around them began to warp. Fuck, Axel thought. His already short time had apparently run out. “Uh-oh,” he grunted.

“Ah,” Roxas started, as though he was grasping on a fleeting thought. He brought his keyblade up, looking at it. Then, suddenly, he threw it with all the force he had, “What’s going on!?” The keyblade clattered away and then shot back in his hand in a streak of light. “Huh?”

“Number 13,” Axel intoned. “Roxas. The Keyblade’s Chosen One.” He shifted, chakram spinning.

Roxas mistook the aggressive gesture and held the keyblade at the ready, “Okay! Fine!”

“That’s more like it!” Axel shouted, taking a battle stance. No, no, it wasn’t at all. Roxas wasn’t supposed to fight like this, not with him. They were best friends, not enemies, and not total strangers. Roxas was there, it was the same coldness in his blue eyes, same determined set of his mouth, but the…whatever it was that made Roxas truly Roxas was gone.

“Say, Roxas,” Axel says one night, his fingers wrapped protectively around the blond head leaning into his chest. He feels no warmth and Roxas hears no heartbeat, but they cling to one another all the same. “What will you do, when you get your heart back?”

“Who knows?” Roxas replies with the same nonchalance as always. Axel doesn’t let that fool him; he feels Roxas snuggle closer, press his ear more insistently against where Axel’s heart should be. “Stay with you.”

Axel rushed forward, sweeping a chakram out. Roxas returned the blow, countering and jumping back. Axel cursed, as a chakram missed its mark; he’d forgotten how high Roxas could jump. His opponent, Number XIII, and definitely not Roxas swung down at him and Axel danced out of the way. Don’t bring me to this, Axel implored his friend. Remember me!

“Don’t make me mad!” Axel shouted, his chakram engulfing in flames. The chakram flared out at Roxas, heat rising up against the younger boy’s skin and sharp tips doing the rest of the damage. Roxas swung the keyblade up, darting away as he sent one chakram spinning back to Axel, which he called back to his hand without a second thought.

Roxas didn’t recognize him at all.

Roxas is leaving. He said he would stay, but he’s leaving.

Axel watches him walk away.

It would be so easy to just run forward and wrap his arms protectively around Roxas’ chest, order him not to go. He could. Axel is VIII, higher than XIII. He could pull rank.

He could beg.

He doesn’t.

“Do I ring any bells yet!?” he growled, a feeling all too akin to real hurt and anger rose up within him. “BURN!” Axel screamed, putting more power than was necessary as the blazing chakram jumped out yet again, forcing Roxas back. Roxas staggered to his feet and swung at Axel again; he countered with a single swipe, catching Roxas’ jacket on fire. It must have hurt; Roxas couldn’t be immune to flames, but he just kept going anyway. Somewhere, where Axel wasn’t supposed to feel, it hurt to watch. He started just taking the hits, indifferent to the pain.

Roxas didn’t seem to notice Axel’s surrender and kept fighting until his keyblade bore onto Axel’s chest, knocking the wind out of him. “Not bad, Roxas,” he gasped.

No one would miss me.

That’s not true!

I would.