Summer Boy

Summery: Roxas is a trouble maker. Sneaking out, underage drinking, and doing drugs with his friends his mother and step-father just don't know what to do with him. Sure his behavior will spiral out of control come summer Roxas is sent to live with his father, who owns a motel, in Sedona, Arizona population 6, 517.

Disclaimer: Do not own Kingdom hearts or any of the characters, except Fynn. He's mine.


Friday is when the working people of Twilight Town finally get to unwind, loosen their ties, take a break and start their weekend, looking forward to the relaxation that comes with 11:59 turning into 12:00, the clock bringing forward the official weekend. But for one household on Columbia Drive watching the clock turn from 11:59 to 12:00 was not met with cheers or smiles but with a desperate groan from a near hysterical mother. The woman, whose birth name was Anna but to everyone who knew her she was Daisy June or in the case of her kindergarten class Ms. Daisy, sunk in the large La-Z-Boy chair her husband more often than not occupied, and ran a thin hand through her unkempt brown hair then across her tired, slightly damp, stinging eyes and down her red snotty nose. This was the face of a mother waiting for her baby boy to finally come home from whatever dangerous, life threatening situation he was currently in and couldn't get away from right now.

And that better damn well be the case, Daisy bitterly thought.

Because Daisy had told to her son many times that there was to be no parties or beer or any other kind of drug anywhere near him ever again and he promised, looked her in the eye with his angel face and promised that he would go no where near any of those things, not ever again.

Now Ms. Daisy didn't know it now but as the narrator of this story I feel I must inform you: her baby boy had been lying through his teeth. The boy of this tale is genetically gifted for such acts. He inherited his mother's big blue eyes, her small lips in his perpetually in an unintended pout, his father's light blond hair, and together his parents gave him a face that echoes the cherubs in Michelangelo's work. Its almost impossible for anyone to consider putting blame on him. Its unfeasible to think him able of cons. Out of the question to accuse him of dirty deeds with that angel face innocently staring right back at you with wide eyes. But indeed this boy was no angel, he used every gift granted upon him to manipulate, sneak, and charm his way out of punishment, to get his way and then worm his way right back into your heart when he needed something.

Such was the case of Daisy, his mother, who suffered through nine months of pregnancy and seven hours of labor to bring this lying boy into the world. Again and again she trusted him and again and again he let her down. Daisy stared at the clock once more, 12:14 it read and then glanced at the door, no boy. Ms. Daisy shakily stood from the comfortable confines of the padded chair, crossed her new ivory chunky plaited wool rug and stopped at the windows, pulling the drapes away. Despair again crossed her features as she saw no sign of her son, not a trace of her angel. Daisy stood there a long time, as if her wishful thinking and tentative stare would bring him back and he came back on his own, she would be the first one to see him.

Two strong arms embraced her from behind but she didn't take her eyes off the street. She could sort of see herself in the reflection, with her husband behind her. Absently she asked in a soft voice, Any news?

She watched as he shook his head, her face falling again. Seeing this he quickly followed up, informing her of what he did know. "I did manage to get a hold of that Sora boy's mother. She had no idea that anything was wrong. She kept insisting that Sora said he was spending the night here and when I told her that Sora never came over she went real quiet. And then she was real helpful, said she would make a few phone calls to Sora's friends' parents herself and would call us back if she found out anything."

Daisy's face turned into a scowl. "I knew that Sora kid was no good. I knew it from the first time I met him. Just knew it."

"Now honey--"

"Don't. He is the reason my baby keeps getting in trouble. Ever since Sora came along all he ever gets into is trouble, always out late out night with Sora, out at a party with Sora, drinking with Sora. That boy is a bad influence," she ranted, her hands angrily leaving the drapes. She tried to force her way out of her husband's embrace but was caught at the elbow.

"Daisy, listen to me," he demanded. She didn't look at him but she did incline her head to let him know she was. "Now I know you don't want to hear this Doll but, it takes two to tango. You can't put all the blame on Sora. Sora probably didn't put a gun to his head and demand that he sneak out now or the other times nor did he--"

"No, No!" she screamed, frantically pacing around the living room, "He just succumbed to peer pressure, did it only to fit in, because SORA pressured him into doing it. He would have never done those things if he wasn't. I raised a good boy!"

"And you did for the most part," he amended. "But you have to realize that he did do those things. I know that I don't have much say in this and I've tried to keep myself out of this only as a favor to you but I can't overlook this anymore. He's done these things over and over again and he'll do it again. No matter how much you insist it wasn't his fault he still did it again and again." Mr. June, known as Fynn, paused in his speech, letting his wife take in his words. "You're enabling him, sweetheart. He's using your kindness and compassion against you to get what he wants. I want everyone to be happy but I just don't see him stopping anytime in the near future." Daisy let out a despairing moan and fell to the floor, Fynn instantly coming to comfort her.

"W-w-what do I d-d-do?!" she sobbed, his words finally breaking that picture frame in her mind, shattering the glass that held secure her image of her son. "I-I-I just want m-my b-b-baby to be s-s-s-safe." Fynn embraced her, rocking her steadily until she calmed down. And together they sat there well into the night. Thinking and talking out plans to save the boy from his own doing. One desperate phone call was made in the middle of the night, securing the fate of a sixteen year old boy. At least for the next three months.


It was 4:12 when the boy finally came home. Daisy and Fynn left their sitting spot in the living room for the more comfortable kitchen chairs and were drinking coffee to soothe their erratic nerves. It was Fynn who first saw the headlights through the window. Both he and Daisy watched as the car looped around the culvasac three times before deciding on their house and promptly parked half on the road half on the side walk. Fynn took Daisy's hand as her breath hitched. The car idled for several moments. Daisy couldn't see who was in the car from so far away but she was sure, call it mother's intuition, that her son was in there.

So she flinched when the driver's door and passenger's door opened quickly, expecting one of them to have her sons messy head of hair. From the drivers door came a figure who climbed out of the seat and clung desperately to the door for a moment. Another person crawled over to him from the other side of the car. Fynn shared an uneasy look with daisy.

"I have to go over there and help," she pleaded. But Fynn shook his head and retold Daisy of the plan. There would be no coddling this time, only tough reprimanding until morning. They would let him, for the most part, suffer under whatever drink he drank or drug he ingested until it ran out of his system and he was sober enough to converse with. So they watched as the two figures wobbled around, the smaller one falling over several times, to open the back seat door. After the small one stumbled on more time they started to tug on something in the backseat. Slowly but surely they pulled out something large and obviously unmoving. Daisy gasped as she recognized the form as the human sort. She frantically looked over to Fynn, a worried hand covering any sob that could dare to try to escape from her mouth. Fynn on the outside stayed calm and just clutched Daisy's hand harder but on the inside he grew increasingly shocked and worried as the person was dragged across the yard. The two figures both had hold of one arm and were pulling in short bursts, sometimes falling all over each other for several minutes before shakily getting up and making their way again. A soft moan of desperation and growing horror escaped Daisy and she tried to look away but it was like witnessing a train wreck, the utter disaster strangely enchanting and the shock freezing you to the spot you stood in, doomed to watch it unfold.

So they watched was the figures became two boys, illuminated in the porch light. One was taller and very lean but muscular, dressed in a simple white shirt and baggy jeans with chains all around it, the other small and simply skinny in a zip-up hoodie and what her son explained were skinny jeans. Daisy belated took in the crazy brown hair and realized that the smaller one was Sora. A numb rage shivered through her body.

From the kitchen they saw the two drag the body across the yard and onto the stone steps that led to the front door. When the body was viciously tugged up against the first step Daisy numbly but frantically burst into the living room to do…what? What could she do? Nothing she could do or even say could change the currant circumstances. Change what was going on. So Daisy simply stopped to again watch the uncoming train wreck that is her sons' life. The two conscious ones didn't even notice that the person they were dragging all around was being harshly scraped against the brick steps, again and again. From her better view she noticed something she hadn't before nor could from her vantage pint in the kitchen.

Both were shaking.

Daisy took one step closer in confusion. And then rage spread across her featured followed by disbelief. They were shaking in laughter. Giggles, chuckles, snorts, snickers, and loud belly laughter drifted under the door and to the house and into Daisy's ears. When by chance Sora turned she saw that there was a huge drunken grin on his face. Both of their movements were becoming increasingly sloppy and they crashed into each other mostly, both breaking out in laughter before trying to shush the other. They gave one last heave and finally dropped the body right in front of the door leaving the body's legs dangling over the side edge of the steps.

Fynn joined Daisy and together they watched as the two boys began to squabble, Sora shaking his head but still giggling, still smiling, the other they could know see better had long, very, very light blond hair kept encouraging him, rapidly nodding and insisting. Finally Sora shrugged his shoulders, relenting and stumbling over his feet to the door. They heard his cackling laughter and soon after…

The door bell ringing.

Neither Daisy or Fynn went to the answer the door, instead staring at the body that wasn't moving on their doorstep. Briefly catching movement in his peripheral vision, Fynn looked up and mutely watched as the two quickly ran away and into the car, the cackling laughter going with them. Screeches signified their departure from Columbia Drive.

At the noise his wife came into motion, let out a heartbroken cry and ran for the hardwood door, whipping it open with strength she didn't have before. Eyes widening, Daisy slumped against the door, crying out again and again, sobbing heartily into the night. Heavy breath-stealing sobs racked her body, Fynn coming behind to embrace her, silent tears running from his dark eyes. Daisy wept loud and hard for her baby, for whom she thought the worst. And this commotion -or perhaps the night catching up to him- the boy on the doorstep groaned softly. Daisy gasped sudden despairing relief and heartbroken joy, a smile broke form her face though she still wept.

Laying across from her was her baby, her little boy, her joy in life, the boy with the angel face and affinity to cheat and lie that she went through seven hours of labor to bring into the world. He still half way looked like an angel if you only looked at his facial features, pretty face still perfect though it had several scratches and was pushed roughly to the side, cheek mashed up against the brick.

His hair was a mess, to the point were he awake would have been appalled at, dirt and grass stuck in it with the occasional small twig. It was matted down in some places and pushed this way and that, not the usual way he preferred. He was a mess, shirt on backwards and riding up do to the way he was dragged across the yard, jeans sliding down also from the ordeal. In all of his pathetic glory of the night, the angel-faced liar extraordinaire, finally home, was Roxas Casey.

And so I have informed you of the story so far and I will now leave you to watch the currant events unfold for yourself, like a play if you will, its scenes and acts telling you the story of a boy becoming a man becoming a boy.

+So um... that's Summer Boy so far.

+ I am planning to update it maybe every week?

+I really do like this story and I kind've have everything planned out but I'm also working on Cult( which has been posted) and my other story Artiste(still working on it), so its actually kind've hard to say when exactly I'll be updating.

+Summer Boy is most likely only going to be four chapters, sorry!, but the chaptesr after this are going to be alot longer. My goal for this is going to be twelve thousand words.

+Does anyone have any guesses as to who Roxas's father is? C'mon I gave you guys a HUGE hint.

+All right that's all i got to say. Um stick around? Next chap: ACT ONE: SCENE TWO; Flyin' High