It was all a game. Days, sometimes weeks passed before any inclination as to where he was arose. And the moment he got that information, he would run after him, chasing him all over the globe. Through countries and continents, states and cities, abandoned houses and busy workplaces, but he never won. He was always one step ahead of him, barely escaping like a modern Houdini.

There was the first time, in the bustling streets of New York, on New Year's Day, that he first met him. Black jeans, held up with a black plaid sash that just barely did it's job, a white long-sleeved shirt under a simple red t-shirt with a faded logo across the front, a black and white plaid scarf, pure white converse and an oversized beanie pulled sloppily over a mop of golden blond hair. And then there was what affected him the most- his eyes. Those deep, cerulean eyes that seemed to just scream, "Catch me, oh catch me if you can." And oh, he was hooked at once.

It was the simple matter of passing each other on the street, the curious gaze of acidic green, and the challenging mirth of sparkling blue- to bring them both into a game of hide and seek that escalated into something deeper than the redhead had ever imagined.

Now that he thought back on it, how long, and how you're concentrated, obsessed even, with something. Anyway, of all the insane paths the blond had led hifar had he gone to find this one man? A year, he supposed, but time passes you buy whenm on, he remembered each and every single one of them.

There was the chase in that old abandoned mansion- a few miles or so into the dark forest on the right side of the highway going south toward some tiny town. He remembered the damp smell as the rotting wood creaked and snapped under his feet. There was the chill fascination, he recalled, while walking through it's hallways, flashlight in hand, looking- just looking, for a flash of blond.

Not that there had been, just the dust of years gone by and-- a note. A note he had torn open as fast as he could, excitement pulsing through his veins like a drug.

"R." The letter had read, along with another riddle laced in sloppily feminine script that immediately got his mind thinking.

He remembered following the letter's riddle, finding yet another empty location with a letter containing a vowel with yet another riddle.

There were three trips after that, five in all. Each place would be empty, or devoid of the blond, albeit the last one.

And it was there in the skyline of New York city, on the seventeenth floor of a posh hotel near the bustling downtown areas, was the last letter. Axel knew he couldn't afford this place, but at that moment, the price didn't matter. The fact that the room was a single bed no smoking area, when Axel was an avid smoker, didn't bother him in the least.

Because now he knew, as a lithe man of shorter statue, wearing the same clothes he had seen those many months ago- excluding that sloppily placed hat which was thrown onto the nearby coffee table- walked into the room from the bathroom, and blue met green.

"Nice game you have here, Roxas."


AN: Not written by terra. Sorry guys. Anyone but me get a Where's Waldo-esque feeling?

-her friend.