Summary: All Roxas wanted was to live a normal life for once, go to high school and learn new things. What he didn't expect was a particular hormonal redhead to make things a little...complicated. Boy love~

Warning: None really. It's yaoi. If you're a homophobe or you don't like, then don't read. It's not like I'm forcing you to. Mkay. No other warning, since this is just the...beginning. ;) Maybe like a few bad grammar and major fail. I'm young, so there's obviously lots of room for improvement. Roxas is a model, but you're gonna find that out anyway. And Axel is a -- well, just read and find out. He comes out in chapter two. I will try and make this NOT cliche as best as possible. Bear with me. I'll work around it somehow.

Pairings: Main AkuRoku; SoRiku, Zemyx side pairings

Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts doesn't belong to me. It makes me sad. I haven't even played the game yet, and my friend keeps rubbing it into my face cause he's got a DS and a playstation2. Gawd. I really need to get one. So for now, for revenge, I shall spam him with yaoi pictures.


I

"Roxas, lift your chin up higher. Higher…okay, perfect. Now open your mouth slightly – yeah, like that. Close your eyes halfway, yes, like that. Put your hands in your pockets. I don't care if you can't do it. Just do it. Ah, now, hold still. Perfect," The camera flashed, "Roxas, you are a natural, you gorgeous, sexy beast."

If that picture had been shown to Roxas DeRenzis, he would have seen a flawless sixteen year old model barely hitting 5"3. His blond hair would have been tousled a bit; it had been a struggle to slip into that tight, black v-neck. His jeans didn't help the matter at all. There was an uncomfortable tightening around his crotch area every time he tried to bend his slender legs. But he had been told that the shade of it would make his cerulean blue eyes pop. It wasn't like it mattered much to him anyway. The only reason he was in this was because his uncle, Sephiroth, owned the model agency. If he had even tried to leave, his uncle would definitely not be happy and might even throw a fit.

Literally.

Yes, Sephiroth had a little bit of a history to be abusive, but only when he was drunk. But his uncle was so manipulative that it was impossible to tell anyone. Where would Roxas go anyway? He had no other family; his parents and unborn sister had died in a car accident. There was nowhere left except the streets or the orphanage. Roxas would battle his uncle anytime than have to endure the other two. It wasn't like Sephiroth had always been abusive…

It was just that one time when he had been really…drunk. Roxas didn't like it, and he wished Sephiroth hadn't drunk that day. It had ended up being one of the most traumatizing nights Roxas had ever had.

Roxas knew that Sephiroth felt bad about it. But he couldn't forget about it. Not about that.

Which brings him back into this scenario. Roxas ignored the murmurs of 'how photogenic he was' and picked at his clothes with great distaste, "Is it really necessary to bedazzle this?"

"That's the style," The photographer impatiently snapped his long fingers at his assistants, "Can someone please get him out of these clothes? Where's the casual wear for the perfume shoot? C'mon, people! I haven't got time for this dilly-dallying!"

Roxas immediately perked up like a happy child at Christmas when he heard the words 'casual wear', but had hardly any time to relish his happiness. He was suddenly yanked aside and dragged towards the change room. There was a heavy air that was tainted with different scents of perfume, and anyone would have started coughing and covering their nose. But Roxas was used to this.

Roxas felt the ends of his shirt being forced up and he hastily yanked it back down, to the puzzlement of the assistant.

"I'll change myself."

With a raised eyebrow, the assistant pushed him into the change room, "You've got two minutes," He barked, leaving the room.

Roxas rolled his eyes at the familiar phrase before stripping himself of his suffocating garments. The jeans he had difficulty sliding off, but in the end, he managed to get himself standing in his boxers. There were long mirrors all around the room, and though he tried not to notice it, the thin, roped scar on his back was very visible.

It had been three years ago, when he was thirteen. Sephiroth had been intoxicated after a late dinner party. When he had come home, it had started out with a few mean words. That was the standard procedure when Sephiroth had been drinking. But then there were pushes, and the pushes had gotten rougher and more violent, and then things got really out of hand…

After it was over, Sephiroth drove Roxas over to the local hospital, pretending to be a frantic uncle bringing an injured nephew into the emergency room. Or at least, to Roxas, it seemed as if he were pretending. The excuse he had given them was that Roxas had taken a tumble down the stairs, and his back had collided with the sharp corner of the table at the bottom of the stairs.

They believed him. But Roxas didn't care anymore. It had been one time. Sephiroth never hurt him that badly ever again. But that didn't stop him from shying away from him every time Sephiroth tried to talk to him. He could never tell if his uncle really cared about him, or if he was just pretending.

But no one has ever seen the scar since Sephiroth had kept everything hushed up. He didn't even allow Roxas to take pictures with his shirt entirely off. He always had to keep some sort of clothing on his body to cover the evidence of that scar. The only other person that knew about the scar was his supervisor/guardian/best friend/personal body violator, Demyx, who had 'accidentally' walked into the room when Roxas was changing. After some persuasion and begging, Roxas had managed to keep Demyx quiet about it as well.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Roxas slowly pulled the fitted white t-shirt over his head. It felt nice compared to the one before, and the pants were actually slightly baggy on him as well. And it was torn at the knees. Roxas loved it.

"Hurry up!" The photographer screeched.

Roxas rushed out and bowed his head in apology. The photographer wasted no time in pushing him in front of the black background. That was when Roxas noticed that there was another model there.

It was a girl. Roxas had seen her face several times in magazines. She, like Roxas, modeled off mostly clothes. She sent him a small, fleeting smile, though somehow, Roxas got the impression that she was holding in her inner fangirl squeals.

"Roxas DeRenzis, Namine Tolores," The photographer trilled, "Now, stand facing each other as if you were about to kiss."

Roxas and the other blonde obliged, even if the last part of his sentence was blunt. Roxas knew exactly what kind of pose the photographer had in mind even before he had to explain. His hand found Namine's waist and his head tilted a little to the left, his lips millimeters away from Namine's. She giggled.

"Good, good. Now, Namine, tilt your head a little," Namine followed the instructions; the tiniest movement now would make their lips graze.

"Namine, come on now. Give me something to work with here. Put your hand underneath his shirt or something. Come on, act seductive. Pretend you two are going to have some hot, steamy sex after this photo."

Roxas stiffened, turning a little red. He would never actually have sex with a girl anyway. He bit his lip to keep from laughing as Namine's hand crept up his chest; he was awfully ticklish. There was also this slight discomfort when he felt her skin touching his. He closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, reminding himself that Namine was a girl, and his uncle was far, far away. He wouldn't have minded if the photographer told Namine to hold his hand, but to touch him anywhere else…it made him feel uncomfortable. He drilled the thought into his head over and over again: It's not him…it's not him…

"Roxas, don't bite your lip. Alright, okay, ready?"

The camera flashed a few half a dozen times, and finally, Roxas was done. For the day.

The photographer cleared up and fled the scene a lot quicker than Roxas anticipated. He expected that he had a tight schedule to keep. With a sigh of relief, Roxas turned around to leave (he was always allowed to keep the clothes he modeled off, even if most of them were given to charity), when suddenly, he was face-to-face with Namine again. Just as Roxas had predicted, she had been concealing her inner desires.

"Oh my gosh! I am a big fan, Roxas!"

Roxas blinked twice. Once to make sure that he had heard right, and the second time was to make sure that her lips were actually hovering above his own again. He leaned back a little to avoid Namine's approaching face, "Er…thanks."

"Listen, we should totally hang out and have coffee together sometimes or something. Maybe now if you're not busy."

"Ah, as enjoyable as that does sound, I'm gonna have to turn that offer down," Roxas answered as politely as he could. He was so used to turning down girls that he no longer felt bad about doing so. Namine's face fell in disappointment,

"Why?"

"I'm meeting someone. Urgent business," Roxas thought that up from the top of his head. IT was half-true anyway. He had to tell Demyx something desperately important that had something to do with the following day. He had tried to put off telling Demyx for as long as he could, but now he really needed to inform him. Namine seemed satisfied with the answer,

"Okay. Another time then. But wow, I finally had a picture taken with you. Sixteen years old, like me, and modeling. I think fate's setting us up or something."

Roxas had no idea what to say to that, and was immensely relieved when he was spared answering; a familiar face, with the usual blond mullet, had turned the corner,

"Roxy, you're supposed to come outside, remember?"

"Demyx," Roxas murmured happily, "Sorry, I got caught up," He wasted no time in shaking Namine's hand, followed with a short, 'Goodbye. It was nice meeting you.' He started to walk away quickly in case she had the mind to ask him for his autograph.

Roxas handed Demyx two bags, but when he gave the second one to him, Demyx nearly fell over by the weight. He narrowed his eyes, "Whoa, what do you have in here? Did you pack a building or something?"

"Nope. Nothing's inside. Nothing important anyway," Roxas said with a sly smile. He'd tell Demyx what was inside later.

As they left Namine and go inside the limo, Demyx wiggled his eyebrows, his brown eyes twinkling in amusement, "Who was she, that girl you were with earlier?"

"No one in particular."

"Yeah, I know you don't like girls. Just asking though."

It was true. Roxas found that girls were much too moody, especially when it was their time of the month. And anyway, Roxas had found that guys were more attractive anyway. Still, no one knew that except for Demyx and Sephiroth. Most of the people around him just considered him to be straight.

Demyx continued to speak as he fixed up his dirty-blond hair in the mirror, "Anyway, you told me you had something important to tell me?"

"I do," Roxas said, then added anxiously, "Can I stay at your place tonight? My uncle's overseas," Demyx already knew the last part, being his supervisor and all, but he added that in anyway for good measure. Sephiroth had thought that if he had given Roxas a little bit of time alone, they would perhaps forget about that little scenario a few years ago.

Demyx grinned, "Sure, but I don't know why you'd choose my crap apartment over your five-star hotel. Honestly, I can never get tired of that flat-screen TV and Jacuzzi thing you have in there."

They soon arrived at Demyx's apartment. Though he would never admit it out loud, Roxas loved Demyx's apartment. Sure, it was a little small compared to his suite and sometimes the air conditioning would be broken and the room would be unbearably hot, but sometimes Roxas just tired of the luxury he always had and wanted to live a normal life.

He jumped onto the L-shaped sofa, hugging the red pillow to his chest as he smiled up at Demyx. The older rolled his eyes before turning back around to lock the door. The sofa was comfortable, a brilliant shade of red even if it did stick out in Demyx's light blue room. Roxas loved the shade of it, and every opportunity he'd get, he would pounce on it.

Demyx still had the two bags in his hands when he turned on Roxas, "Okay, now tell me!" His eyes gleamed in anticipation and excitement. He knew that Roxas was going to tell him a very big secret.

Roxas took a deep breath, "Well…I'm going to school tomorrow."

The eagerness was still in Demyx's eyes, and Roxas' shoulders sagged. Sometimes, his best friend really was slow. He tried again, this time speaking a little slower, "Demyx…I…am going…to school…tomorrow. You know, that school that's like ten minutes away from here? I signed up for it, and they accepted me. They said I'm starting tomorrow. I. Am. Going. To. School!"

That made Demyx catch on, alright. His eyes widened and the bottom part of his mouth fell open. The sight was so funny that Roxas laughed into his pillow, muffling his giggles out. Demyx did not break a smile, "WHAT?" He exclaimed, "But Sephiroth… your uncle… your homeschooling…what the hell? School? But…I'm…" He trailed off, then continued in a small voice, "I'm going to get fired, Roxas, what have you done?!"

Roxas was a little nervous now, seeing how frantic Demyx was, but he continued to speak in a calm, soothing voice, "What my uncle doesn't know won't hurt him. I won't even mention your name if that makes you feel any better. I pretty much forged your signature onto the documents, but I'll take the blame," Roxas said hastily to reassure his friend, "And as for my homeschooling, I fired the guy."

Even through his shock, Demyx managed to pull off a skeptic look, "Really?"

"Yep. And even gave him money to keep him quiet."

Demyx groaned, flailing his right hand in the air as if trying to prove a point. A really big point, "Roxas, gah, what about your modeling? You can't just stop all of a sudden! Your uncle will probably find out you've stopped and come storming in to ask what's happened. And then that's when you'll find out you're in deep shit."

Roxas shrugged it off, "I can model after school. I'll just do it on the days I need to. Just schedule my photo shoots in the afternoon and I'll be fine. Can't skip classes, you know."

Demyx nodded, though he did not look entirely convinced, "God, Roxas, what a mess you've gotten yourself into to. What made you want to go to school anyway?"

"That school uniform I modeled off a month ago."

"Ah. So that's why you couldn't stop staring at yourself in the mirror. For a moment, I thought you had turned narcissist."

"I thought the uniform looked good on me," Roxas retorted back testily. "Anyway, I still have it and I thought I'd put it to good use."

"Where is it now?"

Roxas pointed at the bag in Demyx's right hand. His supervisor dropped it as if it were hot coal, "Heeeey, you little plotter! You told me nothing important was inside! Now I, Demyx, helped carry Roxas' uniform into the apartment. Thanks for dragging me into this, though it isn't like I wasn't already in it," He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, "Where are your school books?"

Roxas pointed to the other bag in Demyx's left hand, grinning from ear to ear. Demyx yelped and dropped that as well. The Mickey Mouse duffle bag fell with a loud thud. Demyx pointed his index finger at Roxas, words unable to escape from his throat. Roxas laughed as Demyx continued to splutter. Soon, he just gave up trying to chastise Roxas and fell backwards onto the couch with a dramatic sigh.

Roxas sat down on the sofa chair beside Demyx and waited for his friend to recover. Demyx took a couple deep breaths before propping his head on the cushion, "Um…how's this gonna work – I mean, not that I'm supporting this idea…" But Roxas already knew that Demyx was going to help him out, "But you're Roxas DeRenzis, famous model. You're going to be attracting a lot of attention at the school, including the publicity and cameras. Then, before you know it, your uncle's going to find out about you going to school and let's just say he's not going to be very happy."

Roxas bit his lip, "That's where I need more of your help."

He had been thinking about it. Going to school as Roxas DeRenzis would blow his cover immediately. So he had thought of something to disguise himself. It was really quite simple. Demyx raised his eyebrow,

"Go on."

Roxas let his hand push his hair out of his blue eyes, "You take care of the wigs and the hair department, right?"

"Right…"

"I was wondering if you had any wigs at home, you know, so I can—"

"—Disguise yourself," Demyx frowned, but his eyes gave him away. He was actually impressed with the idea and was excited about helping Roxas out. He stood up and strode over to the bedroom. Demyx then turned a left into the closet and unveiled a room full of hats and different styles of hair. Roxas gingerly touched the nearest one,

"Help me choose."

"Hmm, I don't…" Demyx rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he peered into the room. He picked up a black, spiky wig, "Wanna be a punk?"

"No thanks," Roxas grinned, setting it aside, "Subtle is good."

Demyx was barely listening. He had already gone on to the next shelf, "I think you'd look good as a brunet."

"Really?" Roxas had never really thought about going brunet. But now that Demyx mentioned it, he felt like he could give it a try. He stepped up beside Demyx and started examining the copper-colored wigs.

"This one?"

Demyx held one out but before Roxas could take a good look at it, he had already put it back, "Ehh…too dark."

He chose out another one and as Roxas made an attempt to grab it before it could disappear again, but Demyx yanked it out of the way, causing him to fall flat on his face, "Too long. It won't look good – Roxas, what are you doing on the floor?"

"Tripped," Roxas mumbled before clambering back up.

They spent almost an hour in the stifling closet. Roxas had given up trying to catch glimpses of the wigs on the fifth and sixth one. He had sat down on the ground as Demyx happily hummed and muttered to himself. At least someone was enjoying himself.

Though Roxas had made all these plans and covered all possible loopholes, he was still a little bit apprehensive. Suppose something went wrong during the year and Sephiroth had to come back? It was highly unlikely, and his uncle had said he wouldn't be coming back until next summer, which by then school would be over. Roxas had already prayed a million times that his uncle would not come back from Europe early.

He was interrupted when Demyx started talking again, "So what about your hotel?"

Roxas was confused, "What about it?"

"The people? Won't your uncle call up to check on you?"

"The hotel people I bribed too to stay quiet, so that's taken care of," Roxas fiddled around his pockets in search for his phone, "And in the unlikely moment that Sephiroth will call me to ask how I'm doing, he'd call me cell phone."

Demyx was silent for a while as he continued to search, then, "What about your normal clothes? Surely you're not going to wear your uniform on the weekends."

"Who's gonna see me on weekends?" Roxas asked, utterly bewildered.

"People you meet at school? They're called friends, Roxy," Demyx rolled his eyes in faint amusement. Obviously, Roxas had not given much thought about it. His eyes widened in dawning wonder and horror, and he felt quite stupid at the moment,

"Oh…but what if they don't like me? Those people at school?"

"You're thinking about that now?" Demyx chuckled. He felt like he was talking to a preschool kid who was just starting school. But it was true that Roxas knew little about the actual school life. Then again, it didn't hurt to be a little encouraging, "You've always been a people-person. You'll be fine; they'll like you no problem. And it's totally normal to be nervous on your first day of school. Uh, for your first day of school, I mean."

"Really?" He formed a small pout on his lips, "I don't know…" What kind of people would he meet at school, anyway? Everyone he knew respected him and treated him well because of who he was. But at school, he was just going to be another kid. He heard of the term 'bullies' before, and he hoped to God that he wouldn't end up being a victim. The thought scared him a little and for the first time, he started having doubts about going to school.

"Found one!" Demyx beamed.

And those doubts were instantly pushed aside, "Finally."

Demyx forced the chestnut brown wig on top of Roxas' head and for a few seconds, they struggle a little to shove all of Roxas' hair under the wig. In the end, they got it on and Demyx stepped out of the way so that at last, Roxas could see himself.

The wig was similar to Roxas' hair, except that it was brown and it was a lot more, well, spikier. Roxas liked it, though obviously he preferred his blond hair over this. He ran a hand through the wig, and it was surprisingly soft, though not as soft as his own.

Demyx shrugged, "Best I can do."

Roxas grinned and hugged his blond friend by the middle, "Thanks, Demy. You're the best."

"I know," Demyx retorted before ruffling Roxas' fake hair affectionately, "I just hope that you won't end up dating in school, 'cause then when your boyfriend suddenly starts making out with you and runs his fingers through your silky, brown hair, the wig suddenly falls off."

Roxas made a face, "No…just, no," He didn't even want to think about that possibility.

Demyx still had his grin on his face, evidently amused by the mere fact that Roxas's wig could accidentally fall off, "So where am I in all this? Just your wig provider or something of the like?"

"I'm staying at your house so you're still my guardian," Roxas interjected, "And I'm still me, in any case. My parents are still dead, and I've still got an uncle who treats me like I'm a toy, and no, Demyx, you still can't tell anyone. I'm still me…just with different hair and under a different name and…I'll be wearing your clothes on the weekend, I guess, until I decide to go shopping."

Demyx looked down at Roxas' short height, "You're titchy. How are you going to fit into my clothes?"

"I'll manage," Roxas waved the matter away.

Demyx brushed the tiny strands of his hair out of his eyes, "Well, okay, I mean I see you trying on my clothes every time you stay over—"

"They're comfy!"

"What name are you going by, anyway?"

"Rokusasu Hale." Roxas wrinkled his nose and Demyx snorted into his hand, "I don't like it either! But it was at the spur of the moment! I just looked down at two names in the magazine…and…yeah…" He ended lamely.

Demyx couldn't answer. He was too busy muffling his chuckles into his hands, "Rokusasu?" Demyx choked out, "Eh, whatever you like, Roxy. Just don't tell anyone I'm the person who named you."

Roxas jutted his bottom lip and feinted a look of annoyance, "Shut up."

"Just be sure you don't slip up, Rokusasu~," Demyx reminded jokingly.

"I won't…"

Roxas pulled the wig off and, fortunately, it did not come off easily. Which meant that a little blunder shouldn't trouble him. He held it tightly in his hands and glanced down at it, "Will this be enough? You don't think I'll need contacts, do you?"

"Nah. You shouldn't wear contacts anyway. You don't know how to, and the next thing you know, you're going to poke your eye out and make your eye turn red. And then you can't model anymore."

Roxas didn't say anything to that for he knew that Demyx was right. He didn't have a steady hand, so contacts was already out of the question. He supposed that a wig would be sufficient enough. He tapped Demyx on the shoulder,

"I need you to drive me to school."

"No bus?" Demyx asked. Roxas shook his head; he never checked.

"I wanna get there at 7:00 just so I can see the school a little. Classes start at 8:17."

"That is such a random number."

Roxas grinned. There was a sudden silence but then, all of a sudden, Demyx burst out into laughter. Roxas' eyes widened,

"What?"

To his surprise, Demyx started singing, "You get the beeeest of both worlds~!" Roxas rolled his eyes, realizing that it was a joke poking at him wearing a wig. Though Demyx's voice was nice, he did not like the song. He hit Demyx on the arm, obviously not flattered by this comparison,

"That's not funny."

"Chilling out, take it slow, then you rock out the show~"

"Shut up, Demy…" Before he could comment about something else, like how he really did not like to be compared to Hannah Montana, Roxas yawned. Demyx stopped singing and pointed to the bed. Roxas raised his eyebrow, "Aren't you sleeping there?"

"It's a two-person bed. Don't worry," he hastily added, "I'm not going to do anything. Who would have the time to do anything to you?" Demyx quickly ducked to avoid Roxas' playful fists. But on a more serious note, he faced Roxas again, "Are you sure you're going to be okay though? I mean…the nightmares…"

Roxas stared hard at the ground. Right, the nightmares. They only came out when he was nervous, or having a really bad night. He supposed, with all the butterflies in his stomach right now, that he could have another nightmare tonight. It was always the same one. A replayed dream of the night he had gotten the scar. Well, it was always different, but the ending would always be the same. It was the night which traumatized him the most.

But he shook his head, giving Demyx a gentle smile, "I'll be fine as long as you don't touch me when I'm sleeping. Remember to wake me up before seven o' clock. Don't touch my clothes, or tamper with my books. And one last time, do not touch me when I'm slee—"

"Good night, Rokusasu…"


Roxas sat on his bed, reading a fairly long, hardcover book. He was hardly concentrating on the words though; the sound of the ticking clock was deafening in his ears. He wasn't at his hotel, but at his Sephiroth's mansion-like house. He had been told to sleep there for the night, and Roxas didn't really think much of it. His uncle was away at a party tonight anyway.

That was why Roxas couldn't pay attention to the book. Sephiroth was at a party, which meant he was bound to get drunk. And whenever he was drunk…well, it was never fun for Roxas. Maybe this time it'll be different.

He should have known better though.

There was a sudden crash downstairs and Roxas knew that Sephiroth had come home. Slowly, Roxas stood up and started towards the stairs. He leaned against it, "You're drunk," He said stiffly, noting his uncle's damp silver hair.

"Roxas, I am not that drunk. Come get me another drink." He hiccupped.

By drink, Roxas supposed that he didn't mean water. Disgusted, Roxas shook his head, "You've had enough for the night. Look at yourself."

"Roxas DeRenzis, you are thirteen years old. Do not tell your uncle that – just go get me another fucking drink, will you?" There was a bottle that was sloshing with alcohol and Roxas stomped down the stairs to rip it out of his grasp. Sephiroth looked shocked,

"No more drinking," Roxas felt a lot older than he really was. He almost smiled triumphantly at the look on his uncle's face, but that was before his huge, coarse hands starting reaching for the drink in Roxas's hand—


Roxas jerked himself awake. It was a good thing he did too, or else the dream would have continued. He was drenched in sweat; even his pillow was wet from his hair. He gasped for breath and placed his hands on his blankets, clenching them as he tried to reassure himself that it was just a dream. The past. It only happened once anyway. Why couldn't he just forget about it?

He jumped when Demyx rushed into the room. "I-I heard…" He took in Roxas' frenetic, slightly-hyperventilating form and instantly darted over to his side, "Roxas, are you okay?"

Roxas took another deep breath, shaking his head and nodding it at the same time, "N-no—yeah, I'm okay. I just…I just need to…breathe," Roxas heaved a sigh and let it out slowly in shuddering breaths. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the moment he did, it felt like he was free-falling back into his nightmare again. Demyx noticed this, and with a little hesitation, he brought his hand up and stroked Roxas's hair gently, comfortingly. Roxas flinched violently, his eyes snapping wide open again.

"Hey," Demyx whispered, "It's just me."

It always took him a while to get used to another person's touch, especially if it was another male. Especially if it was after one of his nightmares. He found the nightmares so tiresome, and they were so pointless. Yes, it had happened, and yes, Roxas had been terrified at the time. But it was over now. Why wouldn't they just stop?

But he saw the blond hair of his friend, and his wide, worried-filled eyes, and he knew that it was Demyx. With shaking hands, he sat up and weakly clutched Demyx's shoulders as he tried to steady himself. But he couldn't stop his gasps; it was like he was suffocating. The nightmare seemed more real than his other ones. He blinked his eyes rapidly,

"I-I can't…can't stop…"

He could feel Demyx's other hand grasping his shoulder tightly, gripping it to the point where it was painful. Roxas winced, trying to bring himself back into the room. He wasn't in his dream, he had to tell himself that.

"Breathe, Roxas. You're here in my room, remember? C'mon, Roxas, snap out of it…" Demyx loosened his grip on Roxas's shoulder, but he continued to stroke Roxas's hair, despite how wet it was from the sweat. Roxas gripped his blanket tightly, balling his hands into fists. A small sniffle escaped him, and he slowly lifted his head to meet Demyx's eyes. Demyx was the only one that could comfort him like this. He was used to Demyx's touch, and anyone else would have made him leap back in fear. He could never tell the difference when he just comes out of a nightmare. His friend raised an eyebrow,

"Better?"

As soon as he could deeply inhale and exhale, Roxas gave out a little chuckle, feebly saying, "And I thought I could get a good night's sleep before school."

"You tried," Demyx murmured, bemused.

Roxas swallowed, nodding, "Y-yeah…what gave me away?"

"When I came in to brush my teeth, you were just mumbling weird shit, I don't know, I couldn't hear. I go out and the next thing you're screaming your head off. So I came back—"

"I was screaming?" Roxas whispered. Demyx looked slightly uncomfortable as he nodded his head, a silent groan of uneasiness escaping his lips. Roxas' eyes dropped in embarrassment, and all Demyx could do was avoid his gaze. His friend's hand patted down on the pillow behind him and he picked it up with his two fingers,

"You drenched my pillow."

"S-sorry…" Demyx shrugged it off and replaced it with the one he was going to sleep on. Roxas was about to protest, but Demyx pushed on his chest and made him fall back against the fluffy pillow once more. It felt cold against his damp, sweat-soaked hair.

"Roxy, just sleep. Think about something else. I'll be here until you fall asleep. Okay?"

"Mmkay…" Roxas mumbled a reply as he turned onto his side, obliging. He didn't hesitate to listen to Demyx, for the next second he had closed his eyes, he had fallen into deep sleep.


Notes: I swear, Demyx and Roxas are only best friends. :D I hope it wasn't too bad, hm? I also swear that Hannah Montana was NOT on my mind while I thought of this idea. It wasn't until Sinful Zee mentioned it, I was like: FCKKKNOOO! It makes me quite sad. I shall try and make it entirely different. Somehow. Ohkay? D: Please do not think of Roxas as a Hannah Montana. I know I added the song in there...but I don't even like the song and --continues to rant. Yup. Sorry.

I also promise not to make it overly dramatic. Just trying to get in some background information, is all.

I know I should be finishing my other AkuRoku, but this idea is not leaving me and it's starting to bother me. I have the end and the middle and everything planned out. D: THANKS FOR READING !