His nose is freezing, the neon bangles around his wrists are still glowing faintly, and above his head the fireworks are going strong. They're loud and shiny and sparkly, and every time they explode (they make a noise like this – bang.) the crowd gasps appreciatively (they make noise like this – aaah.) It's pretty awesome, really. Except – Roxas stands on tiptoes and it's not quite enough – he can't see the fucking Catherine wheels.

"Shit," he says, jumping slightly. There's a van parked in front of them, and lots of really tall people, and although he can hear the Catherine wheels (they make a noise like this – zwee) and see the trailing sparks flying off at angles, he can't quite see them properly.

The tattooed boy in the greatcoat looks down at him, stretched on tiptoes and making little jumps, craning to see the lights, and laughs. He stops jumping and glares.

"It's not my fault I'm a midget. Blame genetics, you – you tall person, you." He laughs louder this time. Roxas glares harder.

"Sorry," he says, when he's stopped. He snickers, and says, "I could give you a piggyback, if you want."

"Shut up."

He looks down at him. "No, really. You want a piggyback? You'd get a better view."

He considers. Part of him thinks that getting piggybacks from random tall boys (who the hell is he, anyway? He doesn't think he'd seen him before, and what with all that red hair and the creepy tattoos, he's pretty sure he'd remember – but then again, he does seem sorta familiar) at fireworks shows is not exactly something he ought to do in front of, oh, let's see, his entire year, all of whom – including Olette, looking really kinda pretty and girly for once, in a dress and Pence's jacket - seem to have turned up for the display and have eyes like hawks and horrible, filthy minds and will never, ever let anything go.

On the other hand, (they make a noise like this – zwee) fireworks.

"Yeah, okay."

He kneels down and Roxas jumps up, hooking his legs around the mysterious boy's waist and arms around his shoulders. He stands up without wobbling; he's evidently stronger than he looks. He rests his chin on his (no, Axel's – he remembers now, it's Axel, in the year above, the one who nearly got expelled for running a still in the chem labs and almost setting fire to the gym - but he's sure he's seen him somewhere else as well, and can't quite remember where) Axel's shoulder. His hair tickles Roxas' nose, strands getting in his mouth, tasting like smoke.


"Much -" and they make a noise like this - bang.

"Oh, that's –" and he's lost in the lights and the noises, and Axel sighs right along with him as the sparks rain down, and their breath makes clouds in the dark and drifts away, lost in the cold air that smells like candyfloss and gunpowder.

A/N - Just a random little oneshot, inspired by Guy Fawkes Night, which is completely, utterly made of win. The title is from 'The Lyke Wake Dirge', if you're interested, and frankly makes no sense in the context of this story, but what the hell, I like it. None of them belong to me. I do have an Axel screensaver, though. Does that count? *big eyes*