Disclaimer: If I owned it, everything after KHII would make so much more sense.

I was dreaming when I wrote this/ So sue me if I go too fast

Notes: You get this along with another chapter of Got it Memorized? because I had an idea for a scene in there featuring Axel coming out of the shower to find Roxas there in his room. I wasn't sure how to fit that in, so I completely branched it off. Theme song for this bit is one of my favorite songs by Modest Mouse: "Talking Shit About a Pretty Sunset". Someone please explain to me why I associate sunsets with AkuRoku in general? Also, second person. I always want to write it for this pairing.

You step out of the shower, pull on some pants, think about watching some porn while you procrastinate on that Existentialism paper.
Your boyfriend is sitting on the edge of your bed.

“You gave me a key,” he says before you even ask why he’s there. Not that you mind. You kind of love the kid. Maybe. “When I heard the shower I hoped I’d get to see you in a towel,” he drawls, looking up at you though his chin is tilted downward.

You grin.

“I’ll remember that for next time.”

He looks around at your desk, your couch. It’s a pretty small, ordinary and disorderly dorm room. He hasn’t been here before.

“Can I crash here tonight?” he asks.

“Your roommate being an ass again?” you ask, digging through your sock drawer for an undershirt.

“Mostly. But you want to fuck me, don’t you?” He says it so casually, already stripping down to his underclothes because you haven’t exactly said no. You don’t know how you feel about Roxas, even after you’ve been seeing him for over a month, letting him pull you around campus and shove you down to his eye level so that he can kiss you. His eyes are burned into your memory for the rest of the day if he ever walks away from you without looking back.

You look at him sometimes and feel ashamed that he’s so obviously in love.

“...because I’m tired. But in the morning, that might be okay,” he finishes, half mumbling so that by the time you turn off your stream of thought you’ve only caught the end of it.

“In the morning?” you ask, suddenly aware that you’ve never seen him without a shirt on.

He nods. “You don’t have class until 9:30, right? and I start at 10. If we don’t sleep in, I can...” he trails off a little and looks at you, blue venom fire. “I can touch you. If you want me to.”

You have no idea how to answer that, so you just climb into bed and make room for him. His fingers are soft, palms rough as he wraps his arms around you, clumsily, but without shame. His cheek rests against your shoulder and you have to wonder at how he’ll touch you in the morning.
You kind of love the kid. Maybe.