This Frenzied Sate [2/?]
Title: This Frenzied State [2/?]
Rating: M
Genre: Drama/romance
Pairing: Axel/Roxas (AU)
Warnings: Abuse of miscellaneous Final Fantasy characters. Seriously. Any mischaracterization is obviously all my fault.
Author's Notes: Sorry this took so long, next part hopefully won't take so long. Also, the warning? Applies directly to this chapter. Go as you will.
Summary: When Roxas stands on the edges of buildings, he tries to see into some eternity. When Axel stands on the edges of buildings, he tries to see how he'd survive a fourteen floor fall.
Part One
“What are you, twelve?” Reno hissed. “You’re upsetting Grandma and my mom! Show some respect! Where the fuck is your tie?”
“Calm down Turbo, it’s in my pocket,” Axel said, quietly, reassuringly. “I didn’t toss it, though you know, I wanted to.”
“Why’d you take it off?” Reno had let go of his collar and was instead dragging him by arm now, though he had loosened his grip and slowed his pace when he realized that the congregation-aha-at the alter was watching them approach.
“Because you almost suffocated me in it and I didn’t want to take any more chances,” Axel replied pleasantly. “I’m surprised you looked away from Tifa’s boobs to notice, though. That’s classy of you.”
“Will you shut up?!”
Axel smiled brightly at his older brother, shook his arm free, and went to greet his grandparents, who appeared a little dazed at his arrival. His grandmother was particularly loathe to let him go, and his grandfather whispered that if there was anything he needed, all he had to do was ask. He tried to keep his expression in a state that was somewhere between sad, remorseful, determined, strong, graceful, concerned, and handsome all at the same time, but he wasn’t sure if he had down right, that is, until he came to his stepmother, who he tried to greet as warmly as he could.
“Axel,” she said, coolly, accepting the peck on the cheek and the one armed hug. “So nice of you to join us. I was afraid you weren’t going to make it.”
The smile he put on his face, he knew, was probably as fake as Tifa’s breasts. “Nope, wouldn’t miss this party for the world.” He could tell from the knives he felt in the back of his neck that what he’d just said was probably the wrong thing, so he revised and said, “Of course I wouldn’t miss my own father’s funeral. That’s just crazy.”
“Well,” Angela said, still in that same cool tone, gazing up at him with a look that was almost scornful, “we all know that’s you to a tee, so no putting that past you. Wouldn’t put anything past you really.” Axel opened his mouth to reply to the thinly veiled insult, but before he could she had already turned to Tifa to say something, probably something as brilliant as, “Hey, my boobs are fake too!” He smiled at her back and wondered if Reno would see him flipping off his mom. Probably. Resigned, he turned around and fled to Aerith’s side, safely out of reach of both Reno and Angela. Quite proud of himself for not succumbing to pressure, he looked for a place to sit, away from the melee that was now taking place around the altar. A few people were starting to trickle in, some taking seats and others crossing the distance to give their condolences to the family.
“Can we sit down?” he whispered to Aerith, watching his grandparents thank someone very cordially for their condolences and gift of flowers.
“No, you need to go to the door and thank them for coming,” she whispered back, watching another couple place a wreath next to the closed coffin, something that Axel hadn’t really paid any attention to before. “Reno didn’t tell you?”
“Nope,” Axel replied, and tried to edge in behind her, though that probably didn’t work out too well, seeing as he probably had a good ten inches on her. “But that’s okay, his fault, let’s sit down.”
“Axel, you-“
He’d already grabbed her and forcefully yanked her down onto the front pew, trying to duck behind a sea of black and navy gray legs. “I don’t even know any of these people, Aerith,” he said, licking his lips. “Most of them probably don’t even know me. They’ll all probably think I’m some sort of distant cousin, which is fine with me. Please don’t say anything? I’ll steal some of those flowers for you after we’re down. What a waste of money,” he trailed off, looking as another wreath was placed near the coffin, “when we could be donating that, or you know, using it or something…”
“Flowers are worth it,” Aerith said defiantly, and Axel cowered, convinced she was going to give up the ghost, but she just sighed and said, “Fine. You’re right. They’re making their way in anyway and if Reno didn’t tell you anything then maybe he has a different plan anyway. I think you’re supposed to be sitting here anyway.” She flipped the card at the end of the aisle up, reading the lettering upside down and said, “Yep. This is for immediate family. So you and Reno and your stepmom and your grandparents and your aunts and uncle probably will be sitting here.”
“Just shoot me now,” Axel muttered, sinking as far into the chair as he could go. “I suppose if I had a lighter I could find some gasoline and douse myself with it and then light myself on fire and that would be a cool spectacle, you know, the best funeral ever, complete with the walking flame of death. I could take some of the candles over at that little altar, that uh, that one right there for that lady…”
“I’m lost on that too,” Aerith said thoughtfully, gazing at the painting. “I’m more of a Buddhist than anything. Though all religions are beautiful and right in their own way,” she added, as though she was contemplating the idea. “Really, they are. I mean, wouldn’t the idea of a great mother earth that has branches in-“
“Spare me Aerith, spare me,” Axel interrupted, trying to sink down further as he saw that Reno was now searching over bodies, as though seeking out something specific. Axel had a funny idea of what that was and wished he could shrink an inch, because even sinking as far as he could, he was still only a little bit past Aerith’s shoulder. “Here, engage me in some meaningful conversation that doesn’t involve religion. Let’s talk about global warming!”
There was a very perplexed frown on Aerith’s face as she smoothed out one of her bangs. “Oh, so you believe in global warming, do you?” she asked, a smile tugging at one corner of her frown. “Last I checked you were saying that you thought all of it was a lie.”
“Was I wasted at the time?” Axel squeaked, seeing Reno nodding and moving past bodies in their general direction. “I probably was, wasn’t I? That would probably explain the entire lie thing, you know, I get paranoid when I drink, just a side effect of the alcohol, nothing to worry about, promise.”
“Right, right,” she said, the smile still tugging at her lips. “So, why don’t you want to sit here?”
“Because I don’t want to sit next to her!” he hissed, practically on the floor now. “Or to any of them either! Can’t I just stand over by that painting we couldn’t figure out and pray and give my you know, thanks there?”
“Thanks? What would you be giving thanks for? Certainly you’re not happy your father’s dead.” Now her smile was completely mischievous, as she glanced around and saw that Reno was making a beeline directly for their spot.
“You just can’t quit woman,” Axel moaned, straightening up as Reno finally approached them, his hand again going automatically to Axel’s throat. Axel went along like a puppet, starting to get used to being treated like an eight year old with one of those leashes tied around their torsos like a dog, though Axel’s situation was probably worse, since he was actually getting pulled by his neck.
“You’re supposed to be outside greeting people!” Reno hissed, again baring his teeth like he was some type of attack rabbit. “I told you!”
“Uh, not really,” Axel volunteered, but Reno was already leading him through the mess of people toward the doors.
“Yes I did,” Reno huffed, “and now we have people not knowing where to go and that’s your fault. Just stand there and tell them to take a seat, because we’re running behind on the ceremony starting and we’ll greet them afterward, before we go to the cemetery. Got it? Think you can handle it?”
“I have it memorized, thanks.”
“Little sassmouth,” Reno muttered, bodily placing him at the entrance where he’d dragged him from only twenty minutes prior. “Tidus is going to be up here to help you as soon as he gets here, so don’t worry, you won’t have to deal with it all by your little lonesome, I know that would be hard for you.”
“Who’s Tidus?”
“Our cousin? Hello? Earth to Axel, wake up.”
“Oh, your cousin,” Axel said helpfully, pulling his arm away. “Your cousin Tidus.”
Reno gave him a long look, and then glowered at him and said, “Our cousin Tidus. Deal with it and then we’ll come get you when the ceremony starts and you’re sitting in that front row between me and Grandma.”
“Oh well, thank god for small blessings.”
“Fuck off.” Reno cuffed him on the shoulder hard, in a very brotherly fashion, and then went back up the aisle. Axel considered running out the door and to Reno’s car to try and hotwire it. Maybe he could say he was valet and take one of the old peoples’ cars and go get a box of cigarettes. Or maybe he could just start driving back to New York. Wait, hadn’t he gotten a completely changeable ticket? Hadn’t that been what that Roxas kid had said? That Roxas kid who had been oh so ever helpful, but oh so ever hostile? Axel wondered about him, because he’d sounded in an absolutely terrible mood and as far as Axel was concerned, the only people in absolutely terrible moods were those people who really had nothing left to live for. Even Reno never got into absolutely terrible moods. Reno just got pissy. There were significant differences in the entire scheme of moods and being in an absolutely terrible mood was one of the worst.
“Oh, you must be Reno, Takeshi’s son.”
At first Axel didn’t realize that the white-haired man with the walking cane was talking to him, until he was nearly completely in his face. “I can recognize you by the hair,” the old man chuckled. “Takeshi had the most vibrant red hair in his youth, and you have it in you too, Reno. I am sorry for your loss.”
“We do accept your condolences sir,” Axel responded, promptly and with just the right hint of remorse. “I’m Axel, though. Not Reno.”
“Huh?”
“My name’s Axel. A-X-E-L.”
“Axel? Who’re you then?”
Axel opened his mouth, bit his lip, and then smiled, a little painfully. “Just a cousin sir. Just a cousin.”
“Ah well, you have the family hair then.” A wide smile split his lips and oh, Axel did not need to see what he had left of his teeth. “Still so sorry for your loss, must be very tragic, on the kid and the wife and you too, of course.”
“Of course,” Axel said smoothly, “now, we’re running a little bit behind schedule, so if you could just take a seat in a row that isn’t specifically marked off, the rest of the family will come and meet you later, okay?”
“Thanks for your help,” the man said, going down the aisle. “See you later then.”
If that’s what helps you sleep at night, sure, why not?
The next twelve people mistook him for Reno and he corrected each of them gently, though none of them seemed to know who Axel was, except for the last. After the thirteenth he went ahead with whomever they thought he was; most of them thought he was Reno; there was one batty old hag who thought he was Alfred, whoever the fuck that was. Tidus, Reno’s cousin, showed up about halfway through and took the other end, which gave Axel leeway to do whatever he pleased. By the time most of the church was seated, most, if not all, took him for Reno, Takeshi’s true son, and by the time Axel was seated, he had a lot more to smirk about. Reno asked him how everything had gone and Axel had replied that it had all gone smoothly, without a hitch, and everything was just fine, just fine.
There were a lot of church readings, a recap of Takeshi Stone’s life that glossed over a certain period of years that included those of Axel’s birth and childhood, and a triumphant ending that concluded that Takeshi Stone had been a great businessman, a loving husband, a brilliant father, and a generous, good man. By the time the gifted pastor had stepped down for the family to speak and the eulogy to be given, there weren’t many dry eyes in the house and Axel wanted to shoot himself in the head and had swiveled around twice to look back at Aerith, who was trying to remain composed. Like he’d expected, his stepmother and grandparents had all sobbed, and just as he’d predicted, even Tifa had sniffled and dabbed at her eyes, which earned her a “cheer up little camper” smile from Reno. And just as he predicted, Aerith’s eyes were a little watery, but her posture was still sharp and composed. He smiled at her, and she smiled back, and then he pantomimed shooting himself in the head which offended the three ladies on either side of Aerith, Tifa included. He turned back around quickly, a little put out.
His stepmother spoke, his grandmother spoke, his uncle, an aunt, and then Reno stood to give the eulogy, because Axel had refused, flatly, to speak anything. There had been some heated discussion in the family about that, Reno had said, about Axel saying anything and about who would give the eulogy. Before Axel could even express his opinion on whether he wanted to speak or not, Reno had launched into a conversation about the epic fight between himself and his mother about Axel speaking; apparently there had been tears shed, threats of being disowned, mentions of unspeakable actions in the past, and most curiously, something about a pigeon. Reno had apparently fought long and hard, though the long bloody night, for Axel to be able to say anything at the funeral and he had, by the very triumphant look on his face, wrested that right away from his mother. He had looked smug and yes, very triumphant, though Axel wasn’t sure if that was because he’d, for once in his life, won an argument against his mother or because he’d won Axel the right to speak. Axel had listened to his tirade calmly-Reno never allowed many opportunities to butt in any of his tirades-and then calmly told Reno that if he expected him to speak, then Reno might as well be waiting around for the Rapture, because Axel was a showman and Axel liked talking, some thought more than he liked breathing, but be damned if he opened his mouth at his father’s funeral.
Reno’s bad mood over the whole denial of his triumph was probably the reason that he’d broken his own door in the morning but Axel would never dare say anything about that.
In any case, Reno went to up to the pulpit and stood, looking uncertainly out at the crowd and for once in his life, Axel wasn’t able to tell if his brother was actually nervous or if he was pretending to look nervous for modesty. It could be either of the options, so Axel watched him closely. He supposed that speaking at your father’s funeral must be a little hard; in the tirade about letting Axel speak, Reno had also touched on the heated topic of who would give the eulogy. Their uncle Tseng had wanted to give it-big, black-haired Tseng, who had been absent from much of their lives, focused more intently on his work, just as his brother had been. His wife had always been around, because she had gotten along great with Angela, but Tseng, no. He’d never been close at all, and one of Axel’s earliest memories had been a great smack across the face from Tseng, though his stepmother had also been involved and sometimes, maybe his mother. But Angela, though united on that front, that front that involved the smacking, had stubbornly refused to let Tseng speak the eulogy, just as stubbornly as she’d fought to not let Axel speak. Angela was fiercely proud of Reno, something that baffled Axel most times-that was a mother’s love he’d never known, but whatever the case, they had been able to convince the family to let Reno speak. Tseng had been granted the opportunity to speak in any case, and his speech had been as close to a eulogy as you could get, though it was really just a recapping of the sermon the preacher had already given. Axel looked around at the candles by the painting he and Aerith had been unable to name, and he wondered if, by powers of telepathy, he could set the church on fire so none of them would have to let Reno, for the third time, recap their father’s great, joyous, wondrous, fantastic life.
Reno was still surveying the crowd, as though he was afraid, and then he cleared his throat and spoke into the microphone, his hesitant voice not very good music to Axel’s ears. Axel lowered his eyes, looking at the casket, which was open now but raised on the dalais, so that nobody could see inside at the moment. He reckoned that Reno could though, from the raised spot on the pulpit, and Axel pitied him for that, because he sure as hell wouldn’t want to be making a speech about your dead dad when your dead dad was sitting right there, dead.
He attempted to refocus on what his brother was saying. Reno seemed to have come into his stride, and was speaking with appropriate pauses and appropriate emphasis on certain words. There wasn’t anything new in this speech that hadn’t already been said before, but Reno was focusing more on the family aspect, and it occurred to Axel that he should be paying attention to what Reno was saying about that, because who knows, Axel might get mentioned. Angela had probably written the speech for Reno and fine combed it already and had probably cut out any mention of him, but that was fine, because Axel was used to not existing in public functions. He remembered the prank that he’d played at the doors, saying that he was Reno, and he smirked a little, though it was more of just a little smile, wondering if those old people were scratching their hands and wondering what the fuck was going on.
He finally picked up on what Reno was saying, picking up on the line, “He was a great father. My brother and I couldn’t have had a better.”
That caught his attention, and he straightened up a little more, casting a sly glance over at Angela, whose face had tightened up a little, though she still kept her dewy eyed look.
“I remember one time,” Reno said, and his voice had turned a little nostalgic, and he seemed to be looking more into space than at any point in the audience, “when it was me and my dad and my brother and he took us over to the zoo, the LA Wildlife Park. You guys know how that is, am I right? Amazingly huge, am I right? Right. So it was just us, a boys’ day, and I remember we lost Axel.” Reno’s eyes seemed to focus, and he was looking at Axel intently, and Axel shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to do, before Reno went back to staring into space. “And Dad, he just flipped his shit. Sorry, sorry, he just freaked out. I mean, I was like nine at the time so Axel was like six and I didn’t care. I was like, oh good riddance, more stuff for me. I think I even asked Dad that if we didn’t find him if I could have his room.” Reno chuckled right there, and paused, and seemed to look over the audience, who was murmuring an obligatory chuckle as well. His eyes stopped on his mother, on Axel, and then went back up into the air.
“And I think Dad hit me, not hard you know, just like a, come to your senses, you idiot kind of smack.” He chuckled again and this time Axel heard a few real chuckles amidst the fake. “And so we went racing through the park and we’re like, oh crap, where were we last? And then we remembered, oh yea, Axel was really fond on those penguins.” He smiled again, smirking into the crowd now, before he smirked directly at Axel. Axel, hopelessly lost and not remembering any of this, immediately shook his head and smirked back, because it was all he knew how to do at the moment.
“So, we ran back to the penguins and he wasn’t there. So we flipped our shit-well Dad did, like I said, I was only nine, cut me some slack-and Dad seriously starting freaking out. He grabbed some security guy and screamed at him and they nearly had to restrain him. Meanwhile, I’m chilling out on the side, being embarrassed by my screaming dad and all, you know, being a cool nine year old, and who do I see? There’s Axel, just sitting there in the shade of some tree by the penguins, sitting there cool as shit. Just like, oh hey guys. I’m over here. Why didn’t you see me? I considered not pointing him out because honestly, I wanted his room and what have you, but I played the good little brother role and Dad swooped him up and I think smacked him around good too. You know how that goes.”
More chuckles, and this time they were real ones.
“And well, I’ve always remembered that, even if I’ve forgotten a lot from being little. I remember how freaked out my dad was about losing him, and how scared he was and as shitty as it sounds, I remember that and I’m like, wow, he really loves him. And I knew he loved me just as much and I’ve just always remembered that. That as great as he was as a man and a friend and a husband and a businessman and as a great donator to a number of good causes, I always remember that he was my dad, our dad, and he would have done anything for us.” Reno paused, his voice a little shaky, and then he looked at Axel, and Axel, for the first time since he’d been in Los Angeles, smiled at him genuinely, almost a little encouragingly, and then he smirked. Reno laughed then, a clear, free sound, and continued, “And while I’m not so sure finding that little punk was a good thing, I’m glad we did. Because yea, that’s stayed with me forever. He was a great guy and I’m proud, and I’m sure Axel is too, to be his son. Thank you.”
There was dead silence in the room and Axel wondered if he was supposed to clap enthusiastically or nod solemnly or just attempt to keep his face the same stoic he’d kept it the entire midday. There were murmurings in the back, but no clapping, so Axel restrained himself, even when Reno took the seat by his side again. Axel fancied that the old geezers in the back, the ones who he’d happily told that he was Reno, realized what had happened or if they were completely freaked out because as far as Axel was concerned, most people thought that he and Reno were twins or at least eerily similar cousins. They both had emerald green eyes, were thin and lanky and had far too much length on both their arms and legs, and of course, the flaming red hair that Axel could never tame, though Reno was a lot more successful in that department. He figured anyone sitting behind would be pretty surprised at the two sitting there, side by side. He wouldn’t blame them.
Reno was sitting there, contently, and seemed to be ignoring the scathing looks his mother was shooting down their way. Apparently the grieving, calm mask she’d worn through the eulogy was gone and she hadn’t been able to control it any longer. Axel wanted to turn his head and smirk at her, and smirk long and hard, but he wouldn’t dare. Reno might have defied her orders and her speech, but he wouldn’t take him talking bad about her. He had taken punishments to prove it.
When the pastor got back up to dismiss the congregation to make the way over to the cemetery, Axel leaned over a little awkwardly, raised his eyebrows, and said as softly as he could, “ Did you try to choke me in my crib too?”
“Fuck off,” Reno said, and he said it loudly, just like he said everything, and he immediately offered a big, bright smile to everyone around them. Axel couldn’t restrain himself and laughed, just as loudly as Reno had said it, and then Reno was laughing too and they were laughing like idiots, the pair of them, sitting there side by side and seemingly unable to stop. This is obviously too cliché, Axel thought, gripping the seat of the pew and trying to hold the back the sounds rumbling up from his throat, but god help me. There was awkward silence around them, as they both ceased their fit, and he could tell by the red on Reno’s face that his brother was absolutely embarrassed. Axel spared a moment to look around and realized that the church was dead silent, the pastor was up on the pulpit, staring directly at them, and that nothing else was moving.
Axel shrugged carelessly in Angela’s direction, grinned at Reno, and slumped back in his seat, back to where he’d been before this whole fiasco had occurred. He’d get hell for this later. Reno would come to his senses. Start blaming the entire thing on him. Threaten to disown him. Kick him in the knees. Just like always and then everything would be okay, just like it usually was.
Mostly always. Sometimes not.
The pastor finally started speaking, commanding the congregation to rise, with instructions about the ride to the cemetery, where Takeshi Stone would be buried in all his stately and proud glory with his ancestors, right inside the family plot that mostly took the entire right half of the Santa Clara cemetery. There were slots already specifically set aside for Angela and Reno and for Axel, too, even if Axel wasn’t exactly included on many other things. They’d be burying him there, just as they’d buried his grandfathers and other people who had at one time been important and were now just dead. His grandmother would probably start weeping as the casket was lowered. Angela would probably sob the loudest, demanding attention as she always did, shaking. Reno would comfort her. An uncle, maybe Tseng. Someone would and they’d lower the casket and they’d all throw in flowers and then they’d go and have a magnificent meal and everything would be buried and under.
Axel’s flight back to New York was booked for tomorrow at nine in the morning.
He wondered if he could get it changed for tonight instead.
__
Sitting in a retirement home, holding two things that were not needles but shaped and pointed almost suspiciously at such, should not be such an ordeal. Retirement homes were supposed to be places for retirement, for such lovely crafts as this, for making these yards and yards of string into some sort of blanket or maybe if one was daring, even a hat. Someone should not be standing next to his chair and screaming into his ear.
“ROXAS LISTEN TO ME YOU NEED TO JUST TAKE THE NEEDLE AND GO THROUGH THE LOOP, THE LOOP, DARLING, THE LOOP, LOOK, WATCH ME.”
She seized his hands in her own and Roxas shivered at the cold in her skin, and the sagginess of the touch. He couldn’t help it-old people freaked him out. He knew the argument and knew, in his head, that if he was able to keep certain impulses out of his mind-certain impulses having to do with, oh say, a roof-that he one day, too, would have the utmost joy of cold skin and saggy skin around the finger joints.
But currently he was young and not exactly the best at keeping the roof impulse out of his system, so as he listened to the lady talk, he thought of gravestones and flowers.
That was politically incorrect somewhere, but currently not in his own brain.
Misty was a peach, or at least, apparently she had been in some other lifetime-sometimes he swore that she could have been seventeen, because when Roxas had first starting volunteering here, she had batted her eyes at him, made perverse, inappropriate jokes, and followed him around everywhere, claiming that her brain was addled and that she thought he was her grandson, please forgive her, please forgive her, he looked exactly like her dead grandson. He’d been embarrassed, and a little bit sad for her because honestly, who resisted a sob story like that? She had steadfastly followed him around for nearly a month, switching from a coy-an overly noticeable coy-demeanor, with flirty little fingers and batty little eyelashes, to a demeanor of solemnity, hands folded her in her lap and eyes downcast as she regarded him mournfully. Sometimes she would be enthusiastic that her boy was back, that he was alive, and other times she would talk to him like he was dead and talking about all that she was experiencing in her life and how much he had missed and how much she missed him. She never broke down in tears, her face solemn and steadfast, and Roxas always got little shivers up his spine when she talked like that.
It was about the third month into his sojourn here that Misty’s doctor had taken him aside, smiled at him gently, and told him that Misty had been a theatre major, her grandson was in fact, not dead and visited every Sunday, and while Roxas looked very much like him, Misty knew quite well that Roxas wasn’t him but Misty had told the doctor, privately, that she thought Roxas was a cute young man and couldn’t resist flirting with him.
From then on Roxas alternated to pity for Misty, pity for himself for being fooled by a seventy four year old woman, and pity for Misty’s grandson, because if Roxas looked a lot like him, he sure as hell didn’t want to know what kind of inappropriate advances she made on him.
“Listen, grandma, I can do it myself,” Roxas said crossly, snatching his fingers back out of hers, attempting to untangle the yarn that was beginning to angle up suspiciously.
“Hey grandkid, you look here, I know what I’m doing and you don’t!” Misty again, as fiercely as she could without making the whole thing come undone, tried to pry the crochet needle out of his hands but as Roxas was much younger, stronger, faster, and stupider, he held on, looking at her balefully. “You’re going to mess it up and then the pretty young miss you’re making this for is just going to cry about it. What kind of present is that?”
“Who said I was making it for a young miss?” Roxas successfully tugged it back out of her cold hands and moved over in his seat, away from her. “Listen grandma, I can make my own damn blanket and I don’t need your help, alright?”
“Suit yourself,” Misty said, humming to herself and looking at him pointedly, “but when your young miss gets this and doesn’t appreciate it, don’t come running to me-“
“Just because it’s pink does not make it for a young miss! It’s not my fault you took all the other colored yarn.”
“Am I to believe my grandson doesn’t have a good job and can’t afford his own yarn?”
“Why would I want to buy yarn?”
“Because you’re gay and like to touch men?”
“Oh, I am through with this,” Roxas muttered, standing up and tossing the yarn and the crochet needles back onto the seat he’d just vacated. “You, grandmother, need to reign yourself in.”
“Oh, don’t go off and sulk now,” Misty cooed, already snatching up the fallen needles and yarn. “I know you don’t like to touch men. I didn’t raise my grandson queer. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, darling. I just want you to be happy. If you like to touch men, you go right ahead and you touch them and don’t let anyone stop you! I won’t stand for it, grandson! Won’t stand for it, do you hear me? Won’t stand for it!”
“The whole universe hears you, woman,” Roxas sighed, looking at the clock and dejectedly returning to his seat. He still had half an hour left here. Was this roof locked? Probably. Padlocked at that. If Misty were one of the saner ones here, he didn’t know want to know what the insane looked like.
“Lunch,” said a voice from the door, and Roxas jumped up immediately, startled when he saw that it was Yuffie, carrying a tray full of such appetizing foods as foamy potatoes, limp carrots, a deflated sandwich, and a more orange than yellow cup of tapioca, along with a box of apple juice to wash it all down and a no calorie, fat free, tasteless cookie for dessert. The classiest retirement home in all of America, right here.
“Early?” Roxas asked, not daring to believe Yuffie was actually standing there, holding that magical tray already.
“Not too much, we just knew Misty got an early start on her day so we should go ahead and bring her lunch already,” Yuffie said brightly, nearly skipping over to Misty’s bed, putting the tray on her bed tray. “Hey Mist, get up! Come on now! Hurry! It’ll get cold!”
Misty was looking at Yuffie with something of an intense dislike on her face. Roxas had seen it a few times before, particularly where Yuffie was concerned, probably because Yuffie was a bit too dense to notice it. Yuffie was, for all intents and purpose, a knockout, even Roxas had to admit. Roxas had contemplated long and hard about whether Misty was jealous or envious or just plain upset that Yuffie was always the one who seemed to interrupt their meeting time, something Roxas was always insanely grateful for and something Misty seemed to lose sleep over.
One could never win any battle in life anymore it seemed.
“It’s already cold,” the old redhead said disdainfully, pulling herself out of the chair gently and shoving the mess of yarn at Roxas. “Here, grandkid, go ahead and finish that. I’ll expect it when you visit next. I expect to see progress or there will be punishment. No television for you.”
“Yes, grandmother,” Roxas said lamely, smiling at her, then at Yuffie, and then said, “Well, I know you don’t like me watching you eat-“
“A woman should never let a man see her eat ungracefully!”
“Like I said, I know you-“
“A woman should never let a man see her fall, or trip, or spill some tapioca on her dress! Never!”
“I understand and that’s why-“
“Never, Roxas, never! That’s why you need to go!”
A thick padlock, probably. Maybe even one of those fancy ones that had an electric current running through it.
“Yes, ma’am,’ Roxas said, grabbing his backpack and stuffing the yard haphazardly into it, which brought a palpable wince from Misty. “I’ll see you in a few days, okay?”
“Alright, grandkid,” Misty said mournfully, “come on and give grandma a hug.”
Roxas, after many months now of practice and diligence, restrained the wince that nearly shuddered through his shoulders and went gamely forward to embrace her frail body, holding as lightly and softly as he could. “See you later, grandma,” he said, flashed two fingers in a farewell to Yuffie, and shrugged into his jacket and took off out the door down the hall, toward the reception desk.
“Where are you going?”
The voice was steely and Roxas winced, hard, probably a combination of the wince now and the wince he’d successfully repressed in saying goodbye to Misty.
“Misty’s eating,” he said, brightly, and turned around to face Vexen, who was the head doctor around here and in charge of Roxas’s tenure. What he was doing in a nursing home, Roxas had no idea, because the man suited the description of an evil scientist more than he fit the description of a man caring for a bunch of people who drooled on themselves. He often speculated that Vexen had dropped out of neurology school, or had made a horribly failed science experiment in his basement, or had accidentally killed a man in Russia-or not so accidentally-and fled to the States to escape punishment.
“And?” Vexen said coolly, looking up pointedly at the large clock on the wall about the reception desk. “I believe you still have thirty more minutes left of your stay today.”
“She doesn’t like watching me watching her eat,” Roxas said, shrugging. “Says a man shouldn’t see a woman be ungraceful. Dr. Yamil lets me go early when that happens so-“
“Do I look like Dr. Yamil?” Vexen was looking at him very severely, his eyebrows arched unsympathetically. Roxas had always pegged him for the guy who had turned in his friends for copying off his test in kindergarten. His friends or his enemies, because Roxas could hardly understand anybody being friends with this guy.
“No, of course not, I was just under the impression-“
“You thought wrong, now go and-“
“Sir,” said a quiet voice to the side, “Miss Chambers needs you immediately.”
“For what?” Vexen snapped, not even turning to look at Selphie.
“Says she’s about to kill herself,” Selphie said calmly, “and you probably shouldn’t let her die because she pays your bills, or something like that.”
Vexen sighed furiously, and glared at Roxas. “Don’t let me catch you sneaking off like that again or I’ll report to the court my findings.”
“Yes, sir,” Roxas replied to where he had been standing, because he had gone off at a fast gait down the hall. Selphie was trailing behind him, but she smiled him and gave him a thumbs up sign. He smiled at her gratefully and took off toward the elevator. The elevator only went up to the sixth floor.
Seven floors would probably only leave him paralyzed, anyway, and he did not look forward to spending the rest of his life in a wheelchair answering phone calls for a very unappreciative airline.
When he got to the lobby of the hospital he retrieved his skateboard and took off, rolling along at a steady pace until he reached the office. Sunnydale didn’t have many things going for it-the name being the primary one-but it was big into efficiency and putting things together very compactly. He went inside, put the skateboard into his locker, along with his jacket, spun the wheel an extra four times, punched in, and successfully evaded Demyx on the way to his desk. Things were starting to look up for this day. He’d escaped Misty early, Demyx was probably in the process of being late or getting fired, and nobody had fucked up anything too badly. It smelled like rain, the weather was nice, and fall was starting to turn the leaves different colors.
In a mood that he dared describe as almost pleasant, he put on his headset and logged into the system, pulling up the necessary screens. There wasn’t an immediate call, and three minutes later he was beginning to hope, even pray, that today was going to be a good day.
The first call flashed on his screen four minutes later and he answered, very vibrantly and nearly even decently, “Rogart Airlines, Roxas Hart, we offer the best and lowest-“
“Well,” interrupted the voice on the other end, “what are the odds?”
Rating: M
Genre: Drama/romance
Pairing: Axel/Roxas (AU)
Warnings: Abuse of miscellaneous Final Fantasy characters. Seriously. Any mischaracterization is obviously all my fault.
Author's Notes: Sorry this took so long, next part hopefully won't take so long. Also, the warning? Applies directly to this chapter. Go as you will.
Summary: When Roxas stands on the edges of buildings, he tries to see into some eternity. When Axel stands on the edges of buildings, he tries to see how he'd survive a fourteen floor fall.
Part One
“What are you, twelve?” Reno hissed. “You’re upsetting Grandma and my mom! Show some respect! Where the fuck is your tie?”
“Calm down Turbo, it’s in my pocket,” Axel said, quietly, reassuringly. “I didn’t toss it, though you know, I wanted to.”
“Why’d you take it off?” Reno had let go of his collar and was instead dragging him by arm now, though he had loosened his grip and slowed his pace when he realized that the congregation-aha-at the alter was watching them approach.
“Because you almost suffocated me in it and I didn’t want to take any more chances,” Axel replied pleasantly. “I’m surprised you looked away from Tifa’s boobs to notice, though. That’s classy of you.”
“Will you shut up?!”
Axel smiled brightly at his older brother, shook his arm free, and went to greet his grandparents, who appeared a little dazed at his arrival. His grandmother was particularly loathe to let him go, and his grandfather whispered that if there was anything he needed, all he had to do was ask. He tried to keep his expression in a state that was somewhere between sad, remorseful, determined, strong, graceful, concerned, and handsome all at the same time, but he wasn’t sure if he had down right, that is, until he came to his stepmother, who he tried to greet as warmly as he could.
“Axel,” she said, coolly, accepting the peck on the cheek and the one armed hug. “So nice of you to join us. I was afraid you weren’t going to make it.”
The smile he put on his face, he knew, was probably as fake as Tifa’s breasts. “Nope, wouldn’t miss this party for the world.” He could tell from the knives he felt in the back of his neck that what he’d just said was probably the wrong thing, so he revised and said, “Of course I wouldn’t miss my own father’s funeral. That’s just crazy.”
“Well,” Angela said, still in that same cool tone, gazing up at him with a look that was almost scornful, “we all know that’s you to a tee, so no putting that past you. Wouldn’t put anything past you really.” Axel opened his mouth to reply to the thinly veiled insult, but before he could she had already turned to Tifa to say something, probably something as brilliant as, “Hey, my boobs are fake too!” He smiled at her back and wondered if Reno would see him flipping off his mom. Probably. Resigned, he turned around and fled to Aerith’s side, safely out of reach of both Reno and Angela. Quite proud of himself for not succumbing to pressure, he looked for a place to sit, away from the melee that was now taking place around the altar. A few people were starting to trickle in, some taking seats and others crossing the distance to give their condolences to the family.
“Can we sit down?” he whispered to Aerith, watching his grandparents thank someone very cordially for their condolences and gift of flowers.
“No, you need to go to the door and thank them for coming,” she whispered back, watching another couple place a wreath next to the closed coffin, something that Axel hadn’t really paid any attention to before. “Reno didn’t tell you?”
“Nope,” Axel replied, and tried to edge in behind her, though that probably didn’t work out too well, seeing as he probably had a good ten inches on her. “But that’s okay, his fault, let’s sit down.”
“Axel, you-“
He’d already grabbed her and forcefully yanked her down onto the front pew, trying to duck behind a sea of black and navy gray legs. “I don’t even know any of these people, Aerith,” he said, licking his lips. “Most of them probably don’t even know me. They’ll all probably think I’m some sort of distant cousin, which is fine with me. Please don’t say anything? I’ll steal some of those flowers for you after we’re down. What a waste of money,” he trailed off, looking as another wreath was placed near the coffin, “when we could be donating that, or you know, using it or something…”
“Flowers are worth it,” Aerith said defiantly, and Axel cowered, convinced she was going to give up the ghost, but she just sighed and said, “Fine. You’re right. They’re making their way in anyway and if Reno didn’t tell you anything then maybe he has a different plan anyway. I think you’re supposed to be sitting here anyway.” She flipped the card at the end of the aisle up, reading the lettering upside down and said, “Yep. This is for immediate family. So you and Reno and your stepmom and your grandparents and your aunts and uncle probably will be sitting here.”
“Just shoot me now,” Axel muttered, sinking as far into the chair as he could go. “I suppose if I had a lighter I could find some gasoline and douse myself with it and then light myself on fire and that would be a cool spectacle, you know, the best funeral ever, complete with the walking flame of death. I could take some of the candles over at that little altar, that uh, that one right there for that lady…”
“I’m lost on that too,” Aerith said thoughtfully, gazing at the painting. “I’m more of a Buddhist than anything. Though all religions are beautiful and right in their own way,” she added, as though she was contemplating the idea. “Really, they are. I mean, wouldn’t the idea of a great mother earth that has branches in-“
“Spare me Aerith, spare me,” Axel interrupted, trying to sink down further as he saw that Reno was now searching over bodies, as though seeking out something specific. Axel had a funny idea of what that was and wished he could shrink an inch, because even sinking as far as he could, he was still only a little bit past Aerith’s shoulder. “Here, engage me in some meaningful conversation that doesn’t involve religion. Let’s talk about global warming!”
There was a very perplexed frown on Aerith’s face as she smoothed out one of her bangs. “Oh, so you believe in global warming, do you?” she asked, a smile tugging at one corner of her frown. “Last I checked you were saying that you thought all of it was a lie.”
“Was I wasted at the time?” Axel squeaked, seeing Reno nodding and moving past bodies in their general direction. “I probably was, wasn’t I? That would probably explain the entire lie thing, you know, I get paranoid when I drink, just a side effect of the alcohol, nothing to worry about, promise.”
“Right, right,” she said, the smile still tugging at her lips. “So, why don’t you want to sit here?”
“Because I don’t want to sit next to her!” he hissed, practically on the floor now. “Or to any of them either! Can’t I just stand over by that painting we couldn’t figure out and pray and give my you know, thanks there?”
“Thanks? What would you be giving thanks for? Certainly you’re not happy your father’s dead.” Now her smile was completely mischievous, as she glanced around and saw that Reno was making a beeline directly for their spot.
“You just can’t quit woman,” Axel moaned, straightening up as Reno finally approached them, his hand again going automatically to Axel’s throat. Axel went along like a puppet, starting to get used to being treated like an eight year old with one of those leashes tied around their torsos like a dog, though Axel’s situation was probably worse, since he was actually getting pulled by his neck.
“You’re supposed to be outside greeting people!” Reno hissed, again baring his teeth like he was some type of attack rabbit. “I told you!”
“Uh, not really,” Axel volunteered, but Reno was already leading him through the mess of people toward the doors.
“Yes I did,” Reno huffed, “and now we have people not knowing where to go and that’s your fault. Just stand there and tell them to take a seat, because we’re running behind on the ceremony starting and we’ll greet them afterward, before we go to the cemetery. Got it? Think you can handle it?”
“I have it memorized, thanks.”
“Little sassmouth,” Reno muttered, bodily placing him at the entrance where he’d dragged him from only twenty minutes prior. “Tidus is going to be up here to help you as soon as he gets here, so don’t worry, you won’t have to deal with it all by your little lonesome, I know that would be hard for you.”
“Who’s Tidus?”
“Our cousin? Hello? Earth to Axel, wake up.”
“Oh, your cousin,” Axel said helpfully, pulling his arm away. “Your cousin Tidus.”
Reno gave him a long look, and then glowered at him and said, “Our cousin Tidus. Deal with it and then we’ll come get you when the ceremony starts and you’re sitting in that front row between me and Grandma.”
“Oh well, thank god for small blessings.”
“Fuck off.” Reno cuffed him on the shoulder hard, in a very brotherly fashion, and then went back up the aisle. Axel considered running out the door and to Reno’s car to try and hotwire it. Maybe he could say he was valet and take one of the old peoples’ cars and go get a box of cigarettes. Or maybe he could just start driving back to New York. Wait, hadn’t he gotten a completely changeable ticket? Hadn’t that been what that Roxas kid had said? That Roxas kid who had been oh so ever helpful, but oh so ever hostile? Axel wondered about him, because he’d sounded in an absolutely terrible mood and as far as Axel was concerned, the only people in absolutely terrible moods were those people who really had nothing left to live for. Even Reno never got into absolutely terrible moods. Reno just got pissy. There were significant differences in the entire scheme of moods and being in an absolutely terrible mood was one of the worst.
“Oh, you must be Reno, Takeshi’s son.”
At first Axel didn’t realize that the white-haired man with the walking cane was talking to him, until he was nearly completely in his face. “I can recognize you by the hair,” the old man chuckled. “Takeshi had the most vibrant red hair in his youth, and you have it in you too, Reno. I am sorry for your loss.”
“We do accept your condolences sir,” Axel responded, promptly and with just the right hint of remorse. “I’m Axel, though. Not Reno.”
“Huh?”
“My name’s Axel. A-X-E-L.”
“Axel? Who’re you then?”
Axel opened his mouth, bit his lip, and then smiled, a little painfully. “Just a cousin sir. Just a cousin.”
“Ah well, you have the family hair then.” A wide smile split his lips and oh, Axel did not need to see what he had left of his teeth. “Still so sorry for your loss, must be very tragic, on the kid and the wife and you too, of course.”
“Of course,” Axel said smoothly, “now, we’re running a little bit behind schedule, so if you could just take a seat in a row that isn’t specifically marked off, the rest of the family will come and meet you later, okay?”
“Thanks for your help,” the man said, going down the aisle. “See you later then.”
If that’s what helps you sleep at night, sure, why not?
The next twelve people mistook him for Reno and he corrected each of them gently, though none of them seemed to know who Axel was, except for the last. After the thirteenth he went ahead with whomever they thought he was; most of them thought he was Reno; there was one batty old hag who thought he was Alfred, whoever the fuck that was. Tidus, Reno’s cousin, showed up about halfway through and took the other end, which gave Axel leeway to do whatever he pleased. By the time most of the church was seated, most, if not all, took him for Reno, Takeshi’s true son, and by the time Axel was seated, he had a lot more to smirk about. Reno asked him how everything had gone and Axel had replied that it had all gone smoothly, without a hitch, and everything was just fine, just fine.
There were a lot of church readings, a recap of Takeshi Stone’s life that glossed over a certain period of years that included those of Axel’s birth and childhood, and a triumphant ending that concluded that Takeshi Stone had been a great businessman, a loving husband, a brilliant father, and a generous, good man. By the time the gifted pastor had stepped down for the family to speak and the eulogy to be given, there weren’t many dry eyes in the house and Axel wanted to shoot himself in the head and had swiveled around twice to look back at Aerith, who was trying to remain composed. Like he’d expected, his stepmother and grandparents had all sobbed, and just as he’d predicted, even Tifa had sniffled and dabbed at her eyes, which earned her a “cheer up little camper” smile from Reno. And just as he predicted, Aerith’s eyes were a little watery, but her posture was still sharp and composed. He smiled at her, and she smiled back, and then he pantomimed shooting himself in the head which offended the three ladies on either side of Aerith, Tifa included. He turned back around quickly, a little put out.
His stepmother spoke, his grandmother spoke, his uncle, an aunt, and then Reno stood to give the eulogy, because Axel had refused, flatly, to speak anything. There had been some heated discussion in the family about that, Reno had said, about Axel saying anything and about who would give the eulogy. Before Axel could even express his opinion on whether he wanted to speak or not, Reno had launched into a conversation about the epic fight between himself and his mother about Axel speaking; apparently there had been tears shed, threats of being disowned, mentions of unspeakable actions in the past, and most curiously, something about a pigeon. Reno had apparently fought long and hard, though the long bloody night, for Axel to be able to say anything at the funeral and he had, by the very triumphant look on his face, wrested that right away from his mother. He had looked smug and yes, very triumphant, though Axel wasn’t sure if that was because he’d, for once in his life, won an argument against his mother or because he’d won Axel the right to speak. Axel had listened to his tirade calmly-Reno never allowed many opportunities to butt in any of his tirades-and then calmly told Reno that if he expected him to speak, then Reno might as well be waiting around for the Rapture, because Axel was a showman and Axel liked talking, some thought more than he liked breathing, but be damned if he opened his mouth at his father’s funeral.
Reno’s bad mood over the whole denial of his triumph was probably the reason that he’d broken his own door in the morning but Axel would never dare say anything about that.
In any case, Reno went to up to the pulpit and stood, looking uncertainly out at the crowd and for once in his life, Axel wasn’t able to tell if his brother was actually nervous or if he was pretending to look nervous for modesty. It could be either of the options, so Axel watched him closely. He supposed that speaking at your father’s funeral must be a little hard; in the tirade about letting Axel speak, Reno had also touched on the heated topic of who would give the eulogy. Their uncle Tseng had wanted to give it-big, black-haired Tseng, who had been absent from much of their lives, focused more intently on his work, just as his brother had been. His wife had always been around, because she had gotten along great with Angela, but Tseng, no. He’d never been close at all, and one of Axel’s earliest memories had been a great smack across the face from Tseng, though his stepmother had also been involved and sometimes, maybe his mother. But Angela, though united on that front, that front that involved the smacking, had stubbornly refused to let Tseng speak the eulogy, just as stubbornly as she’d fought to not let Axel speak. Angela was fiercely proud of Reno, something that baffled Axel most times-that was a mother’s love he’d never known, but whatever the case, they had been able to convince the family to let Reno speak. Tseng had been granted the opportunity to speak in any case, and his speech had been as close to a eulogy as you could get, though it was really just a recapping of the sermon the preacher had already given. Axel looked around at the candles by the painting he and Aerith had been unable to name, and he wondered if, by powers of telepathy, he could set the church on fire so none of them would have to let Reno, for the third time, recap their father’s great, joyous, wondrous, fantastic life.
Reno was still surveying the crowd, as though he was afraid, and then he cleared his throat and spoke into the microphone, his hesitant voice not very good music to Axel’s ears. Axel lowered his eyes, looking at the casket, which was open now but raised on the dalais, so that nobody could see inside at the moment. He reckoned that Reno could though, from the raised spot on the pulpit, and Axel pitied him for that, because he sure as hell wouldn’t want to be making a speech about your dead dad when your dead dad was sitting right there, dead.
He attempted to refocus on what his brother was saying. Reno seemed to have come into his stride, and was speaking with appropriate pauses and appropriate emphasis on certain words. There wasn’t anything new in this speech that hadn’t already been said before, but Reno was focusing more on the family aspect, and it occurred to Axel that he should be paying attention to what Reno was saying about that, because who knows, Axel might get mentioned. Angela had probably written the speech for Reno and fine combed it already and had probably cut out any mention of him, but that was fine, because Axel was used to not existing in public functions. He remembered the prank that he’d played at the doors, saying that he was Reno, and he smirked a little, though it was more of just a little smile, wondering if those old people were scratching their hands and wondering what the fuck was going on.
He finally picked up on what Reno was saying, picking up on the line, “He was a great father. My brother and I couldn’t have had a better.”
That caught his attention, and he straightened up a little more, casting a sly glance over at Angela, whose face had tightened up a little, though she still kept her dewy eyed look.
“I remember one time,” Reno said, and his voice had turned a little nostalgic, and he seemed to be looking more into space than at any point in the audience, “when it was me and my dad and my brother and he took us over to the zoo, the LA Wildlife Park. You guys know how that is, am I right? Amazingly huge, am I right? Right. So it was just us, a boys’ day, and I remember we lost Axel.” Reno’s eyes seemed to focus, and he was looking at Axel intently, and Axel shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to do, before Reno went back to staring into space. “And Dad, he just flipped his shit. Sorry, sorry, he just freaked out. I mean, I was like nine at the time so Axel was like six and I didn’t care. I was like, oh good riddance, more stuff for me. I think I even asked Dad that if we didn’t find him if I could have his room.” Reno chuckled right there, and paused, and seemed to look over the audience, who was murmuring an obligatory chuckle as well. His eyes stopped on his mother, on Axel, and then went back up into the air.
“And I think Dad hit me, not hard you know, just like a, come to your senses, you idiot kind of smack.” He chuckled again and this time Axel heard a few real chuckles amidst the fake. “And so we went racing through the park and we’re like, oh crap, where were we last? And then we remembered, oh yea, Axel was really fond on those penguins.” He smiled again, smirking into the crowd now, before he smirked directly at Axel. Axel, hopelessly lost and not remembering any of this, immediately shook his head and smirked back, because it was all he knew how to do at the moment.
“So, we ran back to the penguins and he wasn’t there. So we flipped our shit-well Dad did, like I said, I was only nine, cut me some slack-and Dad seriously starting freaking out. He grabbed some security guy and screamed at him and they nearly had to restrain him. Meanwhile, I’m chilling out on the side, being embarrassed by my screaming dad and all, you know, being a cool nine year old, and who do I see? There’s Axel, just sitting there in the shade of some tree by the penguins, sitting there cool as shit. Just like, oh hey guys. I’m over here. Why didn’t you see me? I considered not pointing him out because honestly, I wanted his room and what have you, but I played the good little brother role and Dad swooped him up and I think smacked him around good too. You know how that goes.”
More chuckles, and this time they were real ones.
“And well, I’ve always remembered that, even if I’ve forgotten a lot from being little. I remember how freaked out my dad was about losing him, and how scared he was and as shitty as it sounds, I remember that and I’m like, wow, he really loves him. And I knew he loved me just as much and I’ve just always remembered that. That as great as he was as a man and a friend and a husband and a businessman and as a great donator to a number of good causes, I always remember that he was my dad, our dad, and he would have done anything for us.” Reno paused, his voice a little shaky, and then he looked at Axel, and Axel, for the first time since he’d been in Los Angeles, smiled at him genuinely, almost a little encouragingly, and then he smirked. Reno laughed then, a clear, free sound, and continued, “And while I’m not so sure finding that little punk was a good thing, I’m glad we did. Because yea, that’s stayed with me forever. He was a great guy and I’m proud, and I’m sure Axel is too, to be his son. Thank you.”
There was dead silence in the room and Axel wondered if he was supposed to clap enthusiastically or nod solemnly or just attempt to keep his face the same stoic he’d kept it the entire midday. There were murmurings in the back, but no clapping, so Axel restrained himself, even when Reno took the seat by his side again. Axel fancied that the old geezers in the back, the ones who he’d happily told that he was Reno, realized what had happened or if they were completely freaked out because as far as Axel was concerned, most people thought that he and Reno were twins or at least eerily similar cousins. They both had emerald green eyes, were thin and lanky and had far too much length on both their arms and legs, and of course, the flaming red hair that Axel could never tame, though Reno was a lot more successful in that department. He figured anyone sitting behind would be pretty surprised at the two sitting there, side by side. He wouldn’t blame them.
Reno was sitting there, contently, and seemed to be ignoring the scathing looks his mother was shooting down their way. Apparently the grieving, calm mask she’d worn through the eulogy was gone and she hadn’t been able to control it any longer. Axel wanted to turn his head and smirk at her, and smirk long and hard, but he wouldn’t dare. Reno might have defied her orders and her speech, but he wouldn’t take him talking bad about her. He had taken punishments to prove it.
When the pastor got back up to dismiss the congregation to make the way over to the cemetery, Axel leaned over a little awkwardly, raised his eyebrows, and said as softly as he could, “ Did you try to choke me in my crib too?”
“Fuck off,” Reno said, and he said it loudly, just like he said everything, and he immediately offered a big, bright smile to everyone around them. Axel couldn’t restrain himself and laughed, just as loudly as Reno had said it, and then Reno was laughing too and they were laughing like idiots, the pair of them, sitting there side by side and seemingly unable to stop. This is obviously too cliché, Axel thought, gripping the seat of the pew and trying to hold the back the sounds rumbling up from his throat, but god help me. There was awkward silence around them, as they both ceased their fit, and he could tell by the red on Reno’s face that his brother was absolutely embarrassed. Axel spared a moment to look around and realized that the church was dead silent, the pastor was up on the pulpit, staring directly at them, and that nothing else was moving.
Axel shrugged carelessly in Angela’s direction, grinned at Reno, and slumped back in his seat, back to where he’d been before this whole fiasco had occurred. He’d get hell for this later. Reno would come to his senses. Start blaming the entire thing on him. Threaten to disown him. Kick him in the knees. Just like always and then everything would be okay, just like it usually was.
Mostly always. Sometimes not.
The pastor finally started speaking, commanding the congregation to rise, with instructions about the ride to the cemetery, where Takeshi Stone would be buried in all his stately and proud glory with his ancestors, right inside the family plot that mostly took the entire right half of the Santa Clara cemetery. There were slots already specifically set aside for Angela and Reno and for Axel, too, even if Axel wasn’t exactly included on many other things. They’d be burying him there, just as they’d buried his grandfathers and other people who had at one time been important and were now just dead. His grandmother would probably start weeping as the casket was lowered. Angela would probably sob the loudest, demanding attention as she always did, shaking. Reno would comfort her. An uncle, maybe Tseng. Someone would and they’d lower the casket and they’d all throw in flowers and then they’d go and have a magnificent meal and everything would be buried and under.
Axel’s flight back to New York was booked for tomorrow at nine in the morning.
He wondered if he could get it changed for tonight instead.
__
Sitting in a retirement home, holding two things that were not needles but shaped and pointed almost suspiciously at such, should not be such an ordeal. Retirement homes were supposed to be places for retirement, for such lovely crafts as this, for making these yards and yards of string into some sort of blanket or maybe if one was daring, even a hat. Someone should not be standing next to his chair and screaming into his ear.
“ROXAS LISTEN TO ME YOU NEED TO JUST TAKE THE NEEDLE AND GO THROUGH THE LOOP, THE LOOP, DARLING, THE LOOP, LOOK, WATCH ME.”
She seized his hands in her own and Roxas shivered at the cold in her skin, and the sagginess of the touch. He couldn’t help it-old people freaked him out. He knew the argument and knew, in his head, that if he was able to keep certain impulses out of his mind-certain impulses having to do with, oh say, a roof-that he one day, too, would have the utmost joy of cold skin and saggy skin around the finger joints.
But currently he was young and not exactly the best at keeping the roof impulse out of his system, so as he listened to the lady talk, he thought of gravestones and flowers.
That was politically incorrect somewhere, but currently not in his own brain.
Misty was a peach, or at least, apparently she had been in some other lifetime-sometimes he swore that she could have been seventeen, because when Roxas had first starting volunteering here, she had batted her eyes at him, made perverse, inappropriate jokes, and followed him around everywhere, claiming that her brain was addled and that she thought he was her grandson, please forgive her, please forgive her, he looked exactly like her dead grandson. He’d been embarrassed, and a little bit sad for her because honestly, who resisted a sob story like that? She had steadfastly followed him around for nearly a month, switching from a coy-an overly noticeable coy-demeanor, with flirty little fingers and batty little eyelashes, to a demeanor of solemnity, hands folded her in her lap and eyes downcast as she regarded him mournfully. Sometimes she would be enthusiastic that her boy was back, that he was alive, and other times she would talk to him like he was dead and talking about all that she was experiencing in her life and how much he had missed and how much she missed him. She never broke down in tears, her face solemn and steadfast, and Roxas always got little shivers up his spine when she talked like that.
It was about the third month into his sojourn here that Misty’s doctor had taken him aside, smiled at him gently, and told him that Misty had been a theatre major, her grandson was in fact, not dead and visited every Sunday, and while Roxas looked very much like him, Misty knew quite well that Roxas wasn’t him but Misty had told the doctor, privately, that she thought Roxas was a cute young man and couldn’t resist flirting with him.
From then on Roxas alternated to pity for Misty, pity for himself for being fooled by a seventy four year old woman, and pity for Misty’s grandson, because if Roxas looked a lot like him, he sure as hell didn’t want to know what kind of inappropriate advances she made on him.
“Listen, grandma, I can do it myself,” Roxas said crossly, snatching his fingers back out of hers, attempting to untangle the yarn that was beginning to angle up suspiciously.
“Hey grandkid, you look here, I know what I’m doing and you don’t!” Misty again, as fiercely as she could without making the whole thing come undone, tried to pry the crochet needle out of his hands but as Roxas was much younger, stronger, faster, and stupider, he held on, looking at her balefully. “You’re going to mess it up and then the pretty young miss you’re making this for is just going to cry about it. What kind of present is that?”
“Who said I was making it for a young miss?” Roxas successfully tugged it back out of her cold hands and moved over in his seat, away from her. “Listen grandma, I can make my own damn blanket and I don’t need your help, alright?”
“Suit yourself,” Misty said, humming to herself and looking at him pointedly, “but when your young miss gets this and doesn’t appreciate it, don’t come running to me-“
“Just because it’s pink does not make it for a young miss! It’s not my fault you took all the other colored yarn.”
“Am I to believe my grandson doesn’t have a good job and can’t afford his own yarn?”
“Why would I want to buy yarn?”
“Because you’re gay and like to touch men?”
“Oh, I am through with this,” Roxas muttered, standing up and tossing the yarn and the crochet needles back onto the seat he’d just vacated. “You, grandmother, need to reign yourself in.”
“Oh, don’t go off and sulk now,” Misty cooed, already snatching up the fallen needles and yarn. “I know you don’t like to touch men. I didn’t raise my grandson queer. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, darling. I just want you to be happy. If you like to touch men, you go right ahead and you touch them and don’t let anyone stop you! I won’t stand for it, grandson! Won’t stand for it, do you hear me? Won’t stand for it!”
“The whole universe hears you, woman,” Roxas sighed, looking at the clock and dejectedly returning to his seat. He still had half an hour left here. Was this roof locked? Probably. Padlocked at that. If Misty were one of the saner ones here, he didn’t know want to know what the insane looked like.
“Lunch,” said a voice from the door, and Roxas jumped up immediately, startled when he saw that it was Yuffie, carrying a tray full of such appetizing foods as foamy potatoes, limp carrots, a deflated sandwich, and a more orange than yellow cup of tapioca, along with a box of apple juice to wash it all down and a no calorie, fat free, tasteless cookie for dessert. The classiest retirement home in all of America, right here.
“Early?” Roxas asked, not daring to believe Yuffie was actually standing there, holding that magical tray already.
“Not too much, we just knew Misty got an early start on her day so we should go ahead and bring her lunch already,” Yuffie said brightly, nearly skipping over to Misty’s bed, putting the tray on her bed tray. “Hey Mist, get up! Come on now! Hurry! It’ll get cold!”
Misty was looking at Yuffie with something of an intense dislike on her face. Roxas had seen it a few times before, particularly where Yuffie was concerned, probably because Yuffie was a bit too dense to notice it. Yuffie was, for all intents and purpose, a knockout, even Roxas had to admit. Roxas had contemplated long and hard about whether Misty was jealous or envious or just plain upset that Yuffie was always the one who seemed to interrupt their meeting time, something Roxas was always insanely grateful for and something Misty seemed to lose sleep over.
One could never win any battle in life anymore it seemed.
“It’s already cold,” the old redhead said disdainfully, pulling herself out of the chair gently and shoving the mess of yarn at Roxas. “Here, grandkid, go ahead and finish that. I’ll expect it when you visit next. I expect to see progress or there will be punishment. No television for you.”
“Yes, grandmother,” Roxas said lamely, smiling at her, then at Yuffie, and then said, “Well, I know you don’t like me watching you eat-“
“A woman should never let a man see her eat ungracefully!”
“Like I said, I know you-“
“A woman should never let a man see her fall, or trip, or spill some tapioca on her dress! Never!”
“I understand and that’s why-“
“Never, Roxas, never! That’s why you need to go!”
A thick padlock, probably. Maybe even one of those fancy ones that had an electric current running through it.
“Yes, ma’am,’ Roxas said, grabbing his backpack and stuffing the yard haphazardly into it, which brought a palpable wince from Misty. “I’ll see you in a few days, okay?”
“Alright, grandkid,” Misty said mournfully, “come on and give grandma a hug.”
Roxas, after many months now of practice and diligence, restrained the wince that nearly shuddered through his shoulders and went gamely forward to embrace her frail body, holding as lightly and softly as he could. “See you later, grandma,” he said, flashed two fingers in a farewell to Yuffie, and shrugged into his jacket and took off out the door down the hall, toward the reception desk.
“Where are you going?”
The voice was steely and Roxas winced, hard, probably a combination of the wince now and the wince he’d successfully repressed in saying goodbye to Misty.
“Misty’s eating,” he said, brightly, and turned around to face Vexen, who was the head doctor around here and in charge of Roxas’s tenure. What he was doing in a nursing home, Roxas had no idea, because the man suited the description of an evil scientist more than he fit the description of a man caring for a bunch of people who drooled on themselves. He often speculated that Vexen had dropped out of neurology school, or had made a horribly failed science experiment in his basement, or had accidentally killed a man in Russia-or not so accidentally-and fled to the States to escape punishment.
“And?” Vexen said coolly, looking up pointedly at the large clock on the wall about the reception desk. “I believe you still have thirty more minutes left of your stay today.”
“She doesn’t like watching me watching her eat,” Roxas said, shrugging. “Says a man shouldn’t see a woman be ungraceful. Dr. Yamil lets me go early when that happens so-“
“Do I look like Dr. Yamil?” Vexen was looking at him very severely, his eyebrows arched unsympathetically. Roxas had always pegged him for the guy who had turned in his friends for copying off his test in kindergarten. His friends or his enemies, because Roxas could hardly understand anybody being friends with this guy.
“No, of course not, I was just under the impression-“
“You thought wrong, now go and-“
“Sir,” said a quiet voice to the side, “Miss Chambers needs you immediately.”
“For what?” Vexen snapped, not even turning to look at Selphie.
“Says she’s about to kill herself,” Selphie said calmly, “and you probably shouldn’t let her die because she pays your bills, or something like that.”
Vexen sighed furiously, and glared at Roxas. “Don’t let me catch you sneaking off like that again or I’ll report to the court my findings.”
“Yes, sir,” Roxas replied to where he had been standing, because he had gone off at a fast gait down the hall. Selphie was trailing behind him, but she smiled him and gave him a thumbs up sign. He smiled at her gratefully and took off toward the elevator. The elevator only went up to the sixth floor.
Seven floors would probably only leave him paralyzed, anyway, and he did not look forward to spending the rest of his life in a wheelchair answering phone calls for a very unappreciative airline.
When he got to the lobby of the hospital he retrieved his skateboard and took off, rolling along at a steady pace until he reached the office. Sunnydale didn’t have many things going for it-the name being the primary one-but it was big into efficiency and putting things together very compactly. He went inside, put the skateboard into his locker, along with his jacket, spun the wheel an extra four times, punched in, and successfully evaded Demyx on the way to his desk. Things were starting to look up for this day. He’d escaped Misty early, Demyx was probably in the process of being late or getting fired, and nobody had fucked up anything too badly. It smelled like rain, the weather was nice, and fall was starting to turn the leaves different colors.
In a mood that he dared describe as almost pleasant, he put on his headset and logged into the system, pulling up the necessary screens. There wasn’t an immediate call, and three minutes later he was beginning to hope, even pray, that today was going to be a good day.
The first call flashed on his screen four minutes later and he answered, very vibrantly and nearly even decently, “Rogart Airlines, Roxas Hart, we offer the best and lowest-“
“Well,” interrupted the voice on the other end, “what are the odds?”