This Frenzied State [3/?]
Title: This Frenzied State [3/?]
Rating: M
Genre: Drama/romance
Pairing: Axel/Roxas (AU)
Warnings: Abuse of miscellaneous Final Fantasy characters. Seriously. Any mischaracterization is obviously all my fault.
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.
A/N: Puttering along here. I should give myself a schedule and stick to it. I don’t actually divide this is into parts until I post a new one but for anyone keeping track, the end of this part is page 40 out of 151 (still unfinished at about 84k) on my computer. That doesn’t really say much at all, does it? /keeping track . By the way, Axel’s phone is a Sidekick LX. It’s not at all important but it’s a fact. And also, entire funeral sequence is sort of out of my own head. I’ve been wonderfully lucky and have never been to a funeral. I gleaned from television and made up my own version. Sorry if it clashes with what’s usual.
Part One || Part Two
“You know you pissed her off,” Axel remarked, cracking his neck and flipping through the contacts on his cell phone.
“Who?’
“Your mom.”
“Too easy.”
“You know, the whole acting smug about the “your mom” joke doesn’t work when I’m actually talking about your mom.”
“Oh, forgot the memo.” Reno slammed on the brakes for what seemed like the millionth time since they’d left the church and made a noise in his throat. “Remind me to never drive in a funeral procession again.”
“Duly noted. If it’s not for my own I’ll be glad to tell you because I’ll be glad to feel like I’m not about to die.” Axel tightened his grip on the seatbelt and closed his eyes. “You should have just let me ride with Aerith.”
“Listen punk, just because you’ve had a crush on her since you were twelve-“
“Oh please. Tifa’s boobs are so fake.”
Reno slammed on the brakes and Axel nearly went hurtling into the dashboard but the hand on the seatbelt and the one on the door had been enough to prevent the collision between his head and the cheaply made plastic. It wasn’t enough to stop Reno’s hand from knocking into the side of his face, and wasn’t enough to prevent his head from going into the glass, making a dull noise that was lost in the squealing of tires behind them.
“Nice one,” Axel muttered, rubbing his head, gently working his fingers over the bump that was slowly forming over the spot of collision with both the glass and the bed earlier in the morning. “Very nice.”
“Don’t make me hit you again,” Reno threatened, rolling slowly to a start again.
“Are we there yet?” Axel said, boredly.
“No, and what the fuck are you doing with your phone?”
“Looking for a contact. Generally you make phone calls with your phone. At least, that’s what I do.”
“Well aren’t you pleasant. Who are you looking for?”
“Stop prying into my life, mom.”
“You have a life? Sorry, I wasn’t aware.”
“Grow up.” Axel finally found the number he’d called earlier and hit green dial button. “You figure we got like what, twelve or so hours before we get there?”
“Oh, fuck off. It’s not my fault.”
“Way to get defensive. Stop being so emo, I wasn’t blaming you, everything isn’t your fault, it’s okay.” Axel punched buttons as the automated service read them off to him, attempting to follow both the machine lady as well as Reno’s annoying voice.
“You talk too much. Did anyone ever tell you that?”
“No. Enlighten me?”
“Why didn’t we put you on Ritalin?”
“Ritalin? Is that candy?”
“It can be, asshole. Who’re you calling, your boyfriend?”
“Yours, maybe.”
“So, Tifa totally digs me.”
“Dream on. She feels sorry for you.”
“Listen, punk, unlike you I don’t need people to feel sorry for me to score dates. She totally digs me.”
“Totally?”
“Totally.”
“Totally?”
“Fuck off before I kill you. I was trying to make good conversation with you, little bro. Can’t we talk about a super hot chick?”
“They’re so fake, Reno.” Axel cowered, expecting a blow, but Reno just laughed as he accidentally clicked on another button and a voice answered, “Wakka Fett, International at Rogert-“
“Like Jango Fett?” Axel interrupted, raising a hand and trying to silence Reno’s hollow laugh.
“I’m sorry?”
“You know, Star Wars? Jango Fett? Boba Fett? They were the bounty hunters and they were cool as shit. I mean, they were the shit. Tell me you know them, Wakka man. I mean, I’ve had to live life with this boring name and you have got to have at least lived this name up a little, right?”
Silence.
“You do this to people on the phone?”
“Shut up Reno, I wasn’t talking to you. Wakka? You there?”
“Yes, sir,” the voice on the other end said, a little fazed. “Were you flying domestically or internationally, sir?”
“Domestically. I always thought it was a little weird, saying the domestic United States and what have you… why not self-contained, or you know, something a little more manly? Domestic is just so feminine.”
“You’re so feminine.”
“Shut up, Reno.”
“Let me transfer you, okay, somebody will be with you in just a second, hang on.”
An abrupt beep in his ear told Axel that he was being transferred, and then annoying classical music started playing. “He transferred me.”
“Probably glad he dodged the bullet. Why are you calling them anyway? What’s wrong with your ticket for tomorrow?”
“I want to get out tonight.”
“What? Why? You can’t do that!”
“Why not? It’s a completely changeable ticket, guy even said so when I bought it. No worries, no money, not that you’d care or anything, but just saying, it’s doable-“
“No, you idiot. Have you forgotten? The whole “after funeral” shindig? The whole “meet people at the house and mourn?” The family thing? Hello? Are you even in there?”
“Think reasonably, Reno. Your mom was pissed. Your entire family doesn’t know who I am. Excuse me, I’d rather not.”
Reno seemed to be fuming. “This is your father’s funeral. You need to pay him respect.”
“I’m here, aren’t I? I’m sorry but a night of answering awkward questions and dealing with your mother’s glares isn’t exactly my idea of a hip time.”
“Will you stop ragging on my mom? She’s not a fucking devil, Ax.”
Axel chose not to reply and instead focus very intently on the classy classical music in his ear.
“Listen to me, you little prick, you have to come. I don’t care if it’s awkward, I don’t care if it’s crazy, you have to be there.”
“Yes, well, it wouldn’t be awkward for you now, would it?”
“Why not? I brought it up.”
“Yea, and now I have to pay for it so honestly, I’d rather not go.”
There was silence.
“It’s not the end of the world,” Reno said, trying to bring back some of his bite.
“Explaining a sudden appearance of a family member is kind of world ending for some, I’d think.”
“No, it’s not. They’ll get over it.”
“And ask what, seventy hundred questions in the process? I’d rather not, Reno. Oh hi, I’m his brother. Oh no, I’m twenty one, always been around. Yea, no, they never talked about me, it was all a big hush hush secret, sorry you didn’t get the memo.”
“It’s not like that,” Reno said, uncomfortably.
“Right, of course it isn’t. I really-“
“Roxas Hart, Rogart Airlines, we offer the best-“
“Well, what are the odds?”
There was silence on the other end, complete and dead silence.
“Roxas?” Axel asked, hoping direly he hadn’t lost the connection and have to be plunged back into conversation with his brother. “Are you there?”
“This is Roxas Hart,” the voice on the other end said, faintly. “Rogart Airlines…”
“Oh hey, yea, thought that was you. This is Axel Stone. You helped me with my compassion fare the other day, because I was flying out for my mom’s funeral. You said it was completely changeable and stuff because you were so helpful so I was calling to change it. That’s possible right?”
“Axel Stone,” Roxas intoned.
“Right! You remember me? Small world, huh? Don’t you guys have a bunch of different offices around-Jesus Christ Reno, watch the fucking road!”
“Lose your connection yet?’ Reno asked icily, the car starting again after the near rear end with the Cadillac in front of it.
“No, Axel said, glaring at his brother. “Sorry Rox, you still there?”
“I’m still here,” Roxas said, still sounding a little shocked. “Right, small world. Did you have your confirmation number?”
“Confirmation number? Um…. Did that come with the email?”
“The one that was sent to ilightthingsonfire1209 at yahoo?” That was sent with no sense of humor or irony and Axel sort of chuckled nervously.
“Yea, that one. Give me a second.” He flipped his phone around and played with a few keys before he got to his email and pulled up the one he’d received from the airline. “Ok, I got it. Here you go.” He read off a series of numbers and he heard Roxas tapping away at a keyboard. Axel said nothing and neither did Reno so it was quiet for a few seconds. Reno continued forward in the procession, but there were no more sudden stops. He seemed to be sulking in his corner of the car, staring straight forward and actually concentrating on the road. I should piss him off more often, Axel thought, pressing his forehead against the window and trying to see how far away they were from the cemetery, which was still nowhere in sight. Reno’s Focus was the fourth car in the procession, after his mother’s and his grandparents and of course, the hearse. Behind them was the car that carried Reno’s uncle Rude and a few aunts and Axel briefly wondered if there had been a brawl about the order of cars in the procession. Knowing Rude and Angela, there probably had been.
“Okay, I have your record right up here, Mr. Stone,” the voice said, still tonelessly. “You said you were trying to get out tonight?”
“The later the better, thanks, Roxas,” Axel said, “on one of those cool overnight flights you-RENO.”
Reno slammed on the brakes again and Axel toppled forward, again almost into the dash. “Stop acting like a fucking twelve year old!”
“I’m the one acting like I’m twelve? How do you figure that?”
“Oh, I don’t know, you’re trying to fucking kill us?”
“You’re the one trying to get out before your father’s wake!”
“I’m not-“
“My mom kicked me out of her car because she wouldn’t let you ride with us-“
“Pity me,” Axel muttered.
“-and she wouldn’t let me put you in the eulogy and I did anyway and I gave your mom the money to fly you out here and I let you stay with me and you broke my fucking door-“
“You didn’t give my mom anything, shut up.”
“I’ve been sending her money for years, Axel.”
“Fuck off Reno; I get my fucking monthly allowance.”
“Your mom doesn’t and you used her credit card for the fucking flight, didn’t you?”
Silence, and then Roxas said in his ear, “Uh, I have a flight that departs at-“
“Sorry to waste your time, Roxas, I’ll call you back in a sec.”
“Wait, who gave you my exten-“
Axel hung up the phone, flipped it shut, and slid it into his pocket. He pressed his face once more into the glass and saw the front green lawn of the cemetery. It always amazed him how cemetery lawns were always the greenest. Death was probably a highly profitable business. He hadn’t yet heard about the gravestone that Angela had picked out for his father but he bet it was magnificent, classy, and cost more than the tuition at a local state university for a year, including room and board. The funeral had been a lavish affair, the gathering at the mansion would probably host more than two hundred people-including the ones who hadn’t been able to squeeze into the church-and probably have more food than children in Africa ate in one year, and there was no reason to believe that this headstone would be cheap. She had probably ordered a mausoleum to be made.
“Why do you send her money?”
Reno made a derisive noise. “Now you want to talk to me?”
“I always want to talk to you, babe. I’m just curious. I’m not changing my plans, I’m just wondering.”
“Why don’t you ask her?”
“Because we’re about to attend a burial and I thought that in the time allotted I wouldn’t be able to get hold of her, but luckily I have someone on one side of the issue sitting right here so I thought it would be pretty prudent to just ask that person. Was that wrong of me to think?”
“Yes,” Reno said shortly, signaling to turn into the cemetery.
“Dude, we’re in a procession, you don’t have to signal. In fact, you never signal. What gives?”
“I’m done with this conversation, Axel.”
Axel felt the thin patience he was trying to oblige giving away. “Listen asshole, I can ask my mom and she won’t say anything because my mom’s a bitch and doesn’t tell me shit. I can’t exactly go running off to your mom because, frankly, your mom would rather I didn’t exist. Obviously our grandparents don’t know and it’s not like I have much left to go on in this family. So can you cut the fucking crap and tell me what the fuck you’re talking about?”
“I will if you stay tonight.”
Axel kept his mouth shut.
“Give a little, take a little, babe.”
“That’s playing dirty.”
“Like I care.”
“Obviously you don’t.” Axel said nothing else and watched the car in front of them roll to a stop. Reno gently lulled the car, pulled the brake, and turned off the ignition. In front of them Angela and their grandparents got out of their cars but they didn’t move.
“Don’t forget to turn your phone off,” Reno reminded, though he still didn’t move.
“That’s the most important thing,” Axel said demurely, licking his lips and nervously smoothing back his unruly hair.
“Give or take, babe. Tell me later.” Reno opened the door and was out in a second; Axel heard the gravel crunching underneath his feet. Axel breathed as Aerith came up alongside the door, looking at him curiously, waiting for him to get out.
“Asshole,” he muttered, before he opened the door and stood up.
__
“Who’s Axel Stone?”
Demyx, in the middle of a call, looked at him like he sprouting wings from his back and held up a finger, telling him to be patient. He motioned vaguely at the computer screen, spent a second studying a record, and then toggled back over to a jigsaw puzzle he was completing. Roxas’s first thought was that half the time Demyx got New York and Newark confused and yet he could find his way into an illegal game on the internet. His second thought was to smash Demyx’s face into the screen at the highest velocity he could achieve from a dead standstill. A running leap at it would produce a higher velocity but Demyx, by some act of the gods above, would probably notice something other than the game for one moment and possibly react and though the possibility was very slim since Demyx’s attention span was about half a second shorter than a toddler’s, it still existed and Roxas would rather not take chances at the moment and just complete a stunning face smash into the screen.
He chose not to act on it and instead pushed Demyx’s shoulder aside and pushed his mute button. Demyx, in alarm, smacked his hand away and pressed the button, saying, “Dude I’m in the middle of a call, fuck off.”
Roxas had half a second to savor the wide-eyed panicked look on Demyx’s face before it turned into a melting puddle of remorse as he babbled an apology to the customer. He then spent the next few moments amusedly observing Demyx attempt to chat up the customer, who seemed like he was halfway responding to Demyx’s fervent attempts. A few moments later Demyx had extended his reservation free of charge and then passionately expressed his thanks for the customer choosing to fly their airline. A moment later he was hitting his “unavailable” button and shooting up, fists flying without abandon toward Roxas’s face.
Roxas easily dodged and grabbed his fists, forcing him back into the chair and pushing, so that he rolled back and hit the desk, causing his computer to rattle noisily and a few of the pictures pinned to the soft corkboard to fall downward, the tacks rolling around dangerously.
“Hey, I’m sorry, but you pressed the button,” Roxas said, on his toes and awaiting a retaliation.
“Dude if my supervisor hears that I’m fucking dead,” Demyx said, pale face even paler than usual. “What the fuck do you want?”
“Who’s Axel Stone?”
“Like I fucking know,” Demyx said, sounding utterly depressed and staring at his telephone pad. “Do you think they’ll let me keep the headset? It makes me feel cool.”
“You’re not going to get fired, chill out,” Roxas said, “just tell them it was my fault and I pressed the button and you didn’t know. I’ll totally take the blame.”
“I still said it,” said the taller blonde morosely. “Lexaeus is going to kill me.”
“Wouldn’t doubt it,” Roxas said agreeably, feeling slightly bad for his friend. “But tell me, who the fuck is Axel Stone?”
“I don’t know, your boyfriend? Shouldn’t you be in your cube?”
“I had to ask you.”
“Just put it in my record, I check that thing like four times a day. Or you could have just waited until break. In like forty minutes. Is it that important? Do you miss him that bad?”
“No,” Roxas said, “it’s not! He’s some crazy who’s somehow gotten my extension and keeps calling me!”
Demyx stared at him for a second, and then wolf whistled. “Roxas has a stalker, Roxas has a crazy homo stalker.”
“Shut up,” Roxas snapped irritably. “He’s not my stalker, but somehow he’s gotten my extension and he keeps calling me. He called asking about prices for a compassion rate and I gave him and he said he’d call back, so he called back like four minutes later and bought it and he just called me again to see about changing it and then he hung up and said he’d call back!”
“Roxas and Allen, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-“
“What are you, fucking twelve? And his name’s Axel and I just want to change my extension. You think I can do that? Are you sure it wasn’t you?”
“Nope, don’t know any Axels. Sorry to disappoint. So what’s wrong? He’s only called three times and he called for valid reasons. Loosen up. Have a little fun. With him.”
“I don’t even know him.” Roxas slumped against the wall of the yellow cubicle. “I’m just annoyed, that’s all. It’s no big deal. I just want to know how he got my extension.”
“Maybe one of your mortal enemies gave it out,” Demyx suggested, carefully picking up the tacks that had fallen out of the corkboard and replacing his pictures, all of which seemed to consist of some beach, an eye patch, and an oversized guitar that Roxas constantly made fun of him for playing. Who played a sitar nowadays?
“I don’t have any mortal enemies,” Roxas said crossly. “At least I don’t think so.”
“Well like you said, no big deal. Talk to Lexaeus about changing your extension if you’re so worried about your stalker.”
“He’s not a stalker, he’s just crazy!”
“I thought that was the definition of stalker. Just chill out. You’re wasting my precious break minutes, you should go.”
“What, have a hot date for fifteen minutes later?’ Roxas grumbled, swiping his hair out of his eyes irritably.
“Sure do,” Demyx said, mysteriously.
“Right. I totally believe you.”
“You should. It’s true.”
“Right.”
“Really! Why don’t you believe me? You don’t believe I could get a date?” Demyx sounded a combination of both flustered and panicked.
“Dude, chill out. You’re wasting my precious break minutes.”
“Well fuck you.” Growling, Demyx turned back to his computer screen. “If I get fired I’m totally blaming you.”
“Nope. That was all you.”
“No it wasn’t!
“Right.” Roxas saluted him with two fingers and backed out of the cubicle, with already half a mind to go down to Lexaeus’s office to change his extension. Who could have given it out to that lunatic? His mind rolled over a few options, but none of them seemed to have any real validity. Of course this entire thing was just a little bit out of the ordinary. He’d heard of people in the office who had gotten stalkers, but most of the ones who had regular customers were those who had sane, loyal customers committed to them because of good service. Roxas wouldn’t know anything about that, but he did know that in order for those sane, loyal customers to keep reaching the same agent they first had to get the extension from said agent. And Roxas gave nobody his extension. Naminé was the extent.
There had to be some sort of explanation for this disturbing situation.
Maybe he wouldn’t call back. Roxas had heard the entire conversation between this Axel and whoever else was in the car and frankly, Roxas wanted no part of it. He sort of pitied the guy, from the parts of the conversation he’d been able to follow, but no way did pity give way to stalker. The easily distractible man had called it fate; maybe he was telling the truth, though Roxas doubt it to the extreme. They had over six hundred agents in this building along, along with the massive office in Texas. Fate my ass, he’s stalking me.
“I see you’re not on your phone.”
Roxas jumped about five feet in the air-which was just about as tall as he was-and turned around hastily to see Lexaeus standing there, watching him with those eerily quiet brown eyes. Roxas tried to fake a smile, but it came out rather stretched and obviously fake. “Hi, Lex. I was going to see you. I’m having a problem and I need to change my extension.” He paused, wondering if that was enough, and then blurted out-just in case Lexaeus missed the urgency of the entire situation-in a rush, “I have this stalker who keeps calling me and I don’t know who gave him my extension but he keeps calling me and he’s crazy and I don’t get it and I’d really just rather have my extension changed to-“
“Are we talking about Mr. Stone?”
Roxas froze, probably looking very deer in the headlights at the moment. “Uh, I think that’s his name, he keeps calling with the name Axel and-“
“Well, he has a valid record, Roxas, and he requests your assistance. He also didn’t request your extension, so it’s really just a twist of fate he keeps getting through to you.”
That threw out the entire “aliens are trying to kill me” bid.
“I would just expect you to keep offering our top quality customer service.” Lexaeus’s eyes didn’t change but Roxas could easily tell the quiet amusement in his voice. “So, do me a favor and get back to your desk, please. You might as well go ahead and give Mr. Stone your extension anyway. Sounds like you two are becoming fast friends.”
Roxas looked at him with horrified eyes, breath nearly hitching in throat at the thought of such a slimy word as friends.
“Of course I’m just kidding,” Lexaeus said, still with that deep, quiet amusement in his tone. “I wouldn’t expect that. But please, back to your desk before I have to write up documentation about your absence from the phone.”
“Yes, sir,” Roxas said, resisting the urge to snap off a sharp salute and then turned on his heel and started marching back down toward his own desk, trying to work out the mathematical probability in his head. He got lost somewhere after the second equation-math had never, ever been any sort of strong suit with him-but had successfully deduced that this Axel Stone reaching him three times in a row was highly unlikely. Perhaps Lexaeus was trying to trick him. Make him see things, or make him run around in circles and chase his tail to provide some sort of excellent customer service. Maybe Demyx and Lexaeus were both onto it and were both trying to fool him. Lexaeus didn’t seem the type but perhaps Demyx had seduced him and coerced him to go on with the plan. Demyx had a big mouth, after all, and Roxas was positive he knew how to put it to good use. The mental image wasn’t worth thinking about.
He got back to his desk and sat, staring hard at the headset before resignedly placing it back on his head. If was about to live a life full of roofs and calls from Axel Stone, he might as well start getting use to it. And he had been having such a pleasant day too.
A call immediately jumped up from the queue into his ear and he winced, a wince that came through on his shaky voice over the phone. “Roxas Hart, Rogart-“
“Yo, brother, I’m trying to get from Miami over to Dallas, you dig?”
Hardly daring to hope, Roxas breathed out, “Your name, sir?”
Roxas missed most of the name-he thought it was something fancy like John Smith-but the one thing that he was positive about was that the name was not Axel Stone.
Maybe this day could be salvaged, after all.
__
Once again, Axel wondered if there had been heated, dramatic discussion regarding the pallbearer choices. With Angela everything seemed quite dramatic-Axel wasn’t sure he’d known of anything in her life that had been peaceful, or even just calm. It was some part of that fiery temperament-or what Axel liked to think of as her bitch attitude-that had drawn his father to her. At least at first. Men made mistakes, though.
Not that Axel was presuming his father’s marriage a mistake, but one had to wonder what the hell he had been thinking when he’d married the broad.
In any case, he watched without concealing his glee that he had not been granted the very privileged honor of clutching the casket and making the way over to the hole in the ground. Axel had not been mistaken in his assessment of the entire situation-Angela’s purchase would probably pay the rent, keep the lawn watered, and maybe even buy a wreath every day for the next few months. The stone was nearly as tall as Axel and beautifully carved, intricate patterns of filigree woven all along its shiny marble surface. The top curves were ocean waves, sloping steeply upward before dropping straight in the back to the bottom, where more crashing waves were carved. There was some sort of faulty logic to that but Axel did appreciate the two flames crawling up the front two sides.
He wasn’t close enough yet to see the inscription but he was sure that Angela had gotten her priest, mother, father, uncle, doctor, nurse practitioner, female doctor, lawyer, banker, baker, personal shopper, cook, and an assortment of other people to read it and make sure that it sounded very honorific and proper. Nothing was too extravagant for Angela. A few more steps would take him into enough distance to see the delicate font but right now he was having fun watching Reno struggle with the weight of the coffin.
A few uncles, Reno, and even his grandfather was hoisting the coffin up and marching solemnly toward the plot. He heard his grandmother’s sniffs and Tifa’s spiked stiletto boots crunching into the gravel. Aerith was walking alongside him, clutching his arm and still not showing any signs of giving in or crying. He was sure she would break down later, though he wasn’t sure if he’d be around to see it. She had simply adored his father and on the surface, he supposed there were reasons for that, even if he failed to see them. He held onto her to support her as she clutched his arm and he supposed there was irony in that too. There was no irony, however, for the increased murmurings that had gone on since most of the primary party had exited their vehicles after the hellishly long procession.
He could hear them, especially that loud gramps in the back, the first one he’d greeted at the door. That one was complaining loudly to his neighbor, wondering who the hell this brother was and who had greeted him and why the greeter had called himself Reno and not Axel. Axel smirked to himself, pleased with his work, until he saw that Aerith was watching him intensely and then he tried to fix his face back into a mask of solemnity.
“Why would you tell them you were Reno?” she inquired softly, still holding tightly onto his arm.
“Why not? It’s easier to explain.”
“You act like they have no idea who they are…”
“Oh, they don’t, trust me. I’m not exactly a favored son of a big wealthy man, that would be Reno. I might as well just go ahead and reap the benefits of being tall and looking Irish.”
“You aren’t Irish.”
“I know, it was just a nationality joke. I was making fun of the Irish. For the flaming red hair and freckles.”
“You don’t have freckles either.”
“Do you think I’d look cute with freckles?”
He saw her watery, pure smile. “Aw, you look cute in anything. I don’t know if they would take away from your eyes though.”
He frowned. “But you just said I look cute in anything.”
“But it’s really the eyes that do it. I think a light coat wouldn’t hurt. Too many and you’d look like a cow.”
“Moo, moo,” Axel intoned, as they neared the headstone. He could see the script now, a smooth, fluid script that ran along the length of the entire face, listing the standard spiel about his name, birth place, birth date and death date, along with the list of who he was beloved of: he was a beloved husband, father, son, uncle, community organizer, beneficiary, and a good man. There was a quote underneath that Axel couldn’t make out and didn’t much care about-Angela had never been very good at picking worthwhile quotes and making full use of them. Her favorite quote was something about beer and boys and not wasting time. It was a good thing she had probably gotten a million people to look at the proposed inscription before committing to it, because if she hadn’t, children would probably be scared for life coming into this cemetery.
It really was funny, the lengths people went to for proper funeral arrangements. As far as Axel was concerned, he wanted to be burned-simple, pure, and just great for the ozone layer. He saw the coffin finally drop into the thing that would go ahead and lower it into the coffin-apparently Angela had paid big bucks for that too, not that it was really any worry, but the dramatic nature of it all irked him. Behind her and the crane-thing that would lower the dead remains of some dead mammal was an open variety of green lawn. The lengths people would go. It was the family plot and that’s where Reno and Angela and any grandkids from anyone would go. It was a little eerie to be standing here, looking at that, and knowing that someone was going to be buried there. He wondered if Reno were feeling it. A look at his brother told him that Reno was just annoyed with the entire pallbearer thing, as he was now sweating profusely and his smooth hair had deflated a little bit. A quick glance at Tifa told him that she was still all eyes for him, which sorely disappointed Axel, as the thought of anyone finding his brother attractive was just about as weird as someone telling him they found him attractive.
The pallbearers went to their folding seats and Axel untangled Aerith’s arm from his with a solemn look and marched up to the front row, glaring at Reno the entire way. Reno seemed to be concerned with his hair at the moment, trying to push it back but failing. Right now his hair was as unruly as Axel’s, which caused Axel no bit of grief. A smile or a smirk would more than likely be misinterpreted as tyranny or rebellion, however, and that would just cause grief later on that he did not feel completely ready to deal with, so instead he just sat in the seat, again between his brother and his grandmother, and waited for the entire thing to start.
People started to file in behind him and a quick glance behind him told him that Aerith was sitting there, like she had earlier, starting resolutely at the crane-thing holding the coffin. He wanted to flash a quick smile, anything to give her some strength, but there went Tifa, sitting there and sniffing loudly, nearly as loudly as his grandmother. Resisting the urge to scowl at her, he turned back around, to where Angela was standing and directing traffic, giving thanks for coming and accepting many hugs and well wishes. Reno was standing too, and so were his grandparents, so at the moment he was alone in the front row save a few uncles and aunts at the end of the row. He felt sort of small and alone and wondered if he was supposed to be doing Reno’s job and if he’d been banned from it because of Reno’s antics earlier at the funeral. Probably, but that was fine, Axel liked sitting here and being stared obviously just as well.
He wasn’t as vain to think that his entire “reveal” at the church had rocked too many peoples’ world-the ones who cared deeply about it already knew. But the ones who didn’t really care, the ones who had known his father for some of his financial things and were just acquaintances had probably been a little shocked. Reno had been more or less well known as their father’s son-he had that shock of red hair that had made Takeshi Stone memorable and he was loud and not very graceful and the biggest flirt that had graced the Stone family for years so most people knew of Reno, even if they didn’t know him. A second son had probably never been mentioned or even thought of-which was perfectly fine with Axel. He’d spent two decades of his life not existing and being thrust into the spotlight so suddenly was making him feel extremely uncomfortable and for the millionth time that day he found himself wishing that Reno had just kept that well known mouth of his snapped shut.
The greetings were done as soon as the rows of black folding chairs that had been set out were filled up and all that was left was the front. The eyes on him were still pretty much focused on him, and Axel didn’t blame the, since seriously, who really had cared about Takeshi Stone? Most of them were business acquaintances, but some of them were simply gossip hounds and seriously, what was more interesting at a funeral than some sudden son? Nothing, that was what, and when Reno took his seat by Axel’s side, Axel had resumed glaring at him.
Reno, for his part, was still primarily concerned for his hair and kept trying to slick it back suavely, like it had been earlier, but it was springing up, just like Axel’s, and he imagined they probably looked like two trolls. Axel shifted uncomfortably in his hot suit, feeling the knotted bulge of the tie stick into his leg a little bit painfully. The preacher stood up and Axel prepared to sleep with his eyes open again because seriously, what was the point of speaking again? They had already covered his life, his death, his family, his extramarital affairs, what else was there to say about him? Could the priest just bless the ground some other time so they get on to getting drunk over at the mansion?
Apparently not, and Axel napped for about twenty minutes, the sun not pleasant at all on his skin and he wished he had brought his sunglasses, because then he could hide his eyes and not have to sleep with them open. He briefly wondered if he was swaying, because he felt like at any moment he was about to topple over into Reno’s lap and fall fast asleep. He must have looked overly dozing, because a sharp elbow to his ribs made him sit up taller and a sideways glance revealed that Reno was glaring him, and so was Angela. There was a reason people had called his mother brave back in the day, or at least that’s what she had told him when she ever spoke to him, and facing that woman was probably why. Her looks couldn’t kill; her looks could bury the entire continent of Africa under swarms of disease infected fire ants, which was painful, and undoubtedly worse.
A few moments later the mini sermon was apparently over and he was startled to his feet with the rest of them. They stood and grasped hands and when Axel took Reno’s hand he tried to squeeze hard, but Reno was having none of it and ignoring him pointedly. With a resigned thought that perhaps he should try to care that he was sitting at his father’s open graveside, he focused instead on the grinding noise of the crane as it started to lower the casket into the hole. A song suddenly blasted into the air, some sort of whimsical little church song, and at the first note he heard his grandmother burst into heaving tears, gripping his hand painfully and sobbing into his grandfather’s shoulder. Axel felt, at the moment, extremely, extremely weak and foolish and about a dozen other adjectives that labeled him a bad grandson.
The song and the ensuing increased sobbing went on until the casket had been lowered into the hole and the crane-thing had pulled back up its cables and was shut off. The song increased its tempo and finished with a resounding, quavering, silver, piercing tone that filled up the grassy lawns of the cemetery and made Axel’s ears ring. He was still holding onto his weeping grandmother’s hand and she was trying to stagger forward now, so he tugged his hand free of his brother’s and clutched hers, half afraid that she was going to pitch into the grave right after her dead son. Angela and Reno were moving forward now, throwing in flowers and when she tugged his hand even harder, he realized that she was trying to do the same. Feeling a little put out, he still grasped her hand loosely as she tossed in a deep red rose. Pulling back, she was crying a little more softly, but she was turning now, and throwing her arms around Axel’s upper torso, since she was too short to really put them around his shoulders.
He held her, feeling incredibly awkward and weird and holding her close. Her tears were dampening his black sleeves and he tried to make shushing noises, hoping they were appropriate in this situation. A few seconds later his grandfather gracefully took her into his own arms and he was free to stand there awkwardly now, instead of just holding her awkwardly. The ceremony was apparently over; a few people were throwing more flowers into the open grave but most were shying away, over under the white tent that had been set up for that specific purpose. Soon enough they’d be loading back into the cars to head over to the mansion, the cars they’d just all driven here in one long procession. Such a silly thing, these funerals.
Approaching the hole in the ground, he peered inside at the coffin. It was sleek, mahogany, with a golden design on the front that he could barely see through all the flower petals. It was probably the family crest. He tilted his head slightly. Now that he thought about it, there probably was a family crest.
“Pretty nifty, huh?”
Reno’s voice was soft and slightly feathery. He was standing with his hands in his pockets at the edge of the grave, looking over. Axel said nothing.
“It was pretty expensive but you know her. I found these in your suitcase.”
And suddenly out of the blue, Reno handed him the pack of Camels he had stashed into the small zipped up part of his tattered suitcase. Axel looked at the blue and green pack for a good second, leaving Reno’s hands outstretched there holding the square box. A second later he snatched it out of his brother’s hand like it was on fire and stuck it into his mouth, shoving the flimsy box into his pocket to rest against the knotted tie. A pat down revealed no lighter, which was probably good, because smoking at your father’s open graveside while women were weeping into the background on a sunny day was just too cliché for him.
Content to just let it sit against his lips, he told Reno, “Don’t think just because you gave me these I’m sticking around for tonight.”
Reno frowned. “I was hoping a bribe was going to work.”
“More like get the fuck out of my suitcase asshole.”
A few of the mourners around the hole glanced up.
“Hey, it’s in my apartment. The way I see it, it’s my property.”
“Great, fix your own damn door then. That was your fault anyway.”
“You were the one that wouldn’t get up. And you had the door locked.”
Axel narrowed his eyes. “Do you think that maybe had something to do with the fact that I didn’t want you going through my fucking suitcase?”
“What, afraid I was going to find your vibrator?”
A couple of the mourners started to chatter nervously.
“Don’t make me fucking tackle you into that damn grave, Reno.”
“That would simply be barbaric, little bro.” Reno made a sudden move and Axel didn’t have a chance to escape as Reno suddenly hugged him, hard. Axel nearly staggered backward from the excess weight, but the cigarette did manage to drop from his lips, roll forward through the apparently sprightly grass, and drop into the hole. Axel’s eyes widened in panic and he tried to sputter out a breath and say something, something like “I just dropped a new cigarette into my father’s grave, let me go and retrieve it before it sets everything on fire, thanks,” but Reno was holding him too hard.
“You know,” Reno breathed, “it wouldn’t kill you to show some emotion now and again.”
Axel scoffed, but the sound was suddenly pitchy. “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to get off me, asshole. I dropped my fucking cigarette in that damn hole.” There was a pause, and then, a bit more softly, “A fucking brand new cigarette, asshole. Brand fucking new.”
“Cigarettes are bad for you and you should stop cussing so much, you little prick,” was the reply and Reno released him without another word, stepping away and heading toward the white tent. Axel shook himself, aware that there were a few people watching him, like they had been throughout the entire ceremony. He inched forward another step, glancing once more at the headstone, and he saw the white stick sitting there, stuck between the petals in the bed of flowers that was now covering the top of the casket.
What a waste.
He hadn’t even gotten two steps before he had his cell phone out and he was dialing the number he’d just called in the car.
Rating: M
Genre: Drama/romance
Pairing: Axel/Roxas (AU)
Warnings: Abuse of miscellaneous Final Fantasy characters. Seriously. Any mischaracterization is obviously all my fault.
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.
A/N: Puttering along here. I should give myself a schedule and stick to it. I don’t actually divide this is into parts until I post a new one but for anyone keeping track, the end of this part is page 40 out of 151 (still unfinished at about 84k) on my computer. That doesn’t really say much at all, does it? /keeping track . By the way, Axel’s phone is a Sidekick LX. It’s not at all important but it’s a fact. And also, entire funeral sequence is sort of out of my own head. I’ve been wonderfully lucky and have never been to a funeral. I gleaned from television and made up my own version. Sorry if it clashes with what’s usual.
Part One || Part Two
“You know you pissed her off,” Axel remarked, cracking his neck and flipping through the contacts on his cell phone.
“Who?’
“Your mom.”
“Too easy.”
“You know, the whole acting smug about the “your mom” joke doesn’t work when I’m actually talking about your mom.”
“Oh, forgot the memo.” Reno slammed on the brakes for what seemed like the millionth time since they’d left the church and made a noise in his throat. “Remind me to never drive in a funeral procession again.”
“Duly noted. If it’s not for my own I’ll be glad to tell you because I’ll be glad to feel like I’m not about to die.” Axel tightened his grip on the seatbelt and closed his eyes. “You should have just let me ride with Aerith.”
“Listen punk, just because you’ve had a crush on her since you were twelve-“
“Oh please. Tifa’s boobs are so fake.”
Reno slammed on the brakes and Axel nearly went hurtling into the dashboard but the hand on the seatbelt and the one on the door had been enough to prevent the collision between his head and the cheaply made plastic. It wasn’t enough to stop Reno’s hand from knocking into the side of his face, and wasn’t enough to prevent his head from going into the glass, making a dull noise that was lost in the squealing of tires behind them.
“Nice one,” Axel muttered, rubbing his head, gently working his fingers over the bump that was slowly forming over the spot of collision with both the glass and the bed earlier in the morning. “Very nice.”
“Don’t make me hit you again,” Reno threatened, rolling slowly to a start again.
“Are we there yet?” Axel said, boredly.
“No, and what the fuck are you doing with your phone?”
“Looking for a contact. Generally you make phone calls with your phone. At least, that’s what I do.”
“Well aren’t you pleasant. Who are you looking for?”
“Stop prying into my life, mom.”
“You have a life? Sorry, I wasn’t aware.”
“Grow up.” Axel finally found the number he’d called earlier and hit green dial button. “You figure we got like what, twelve or so hours before we get there?”
“Oh, fuck off. It’s not my fault.”
“Way to get defensive. Stop being so emo, I wasn’t blaming you, everything isn’t your fault, it’s okay.” Axel punched buttons as the automated service read them off to him, attempting to follow both the machine lady as well as Reno’s annoying voice.
“You talk too much. Did anyone ever tell you that?”
“No. Enlighten me?”
“Why didn’t we put you on Ritalin?”
“Ritalin? Is that candy?”
“It can be, asshole. Who’re you calling, your boyfriend?”
“Yours, maybe.”
“So, Tifa totally digs me.”
“Dream on. She feels sorry for you.”
“Listen, punk, unlike you I don’t need people to feel sorry for me to score dates. She totally digs me.”
“Totally?”
“Totally.”
“Totally?”
“Fuck off before I kill you. I was trying to make good conversation with you, little bro. Can’t we talk about a super hot chick?”
“They’re so fake, Reno.” Axel cowered, expecting a blow, but Reno just laughed as he accidentally clicked on another button and a voice answered, “Wakka Fett, International at Rogert-“
“Like Jango Fett?” Axel interrupted, raising a hand and trying to silence Reno’s hollow laugh.
“I’m sorry?”
“You know, Star Wars? Jango Fett? Boba Fett? They were the bounty hunters and they were cool as shit. I mean, they were the shit. Tell me you know them, Wakka man. I mean, I’ve had to live life with this boring name and you have got to have at least lived this name up a little, right?”
Silence.
“You do this to people on the phone?”
“Shut up Reno, I wasn’t talking to you. Wakka? You there?”
“Yes, sir,” the voice on the other end said, a little fazed. “Were you flying domestically or internationally, sir?”
“Domestically. I always thought it was a little weird, saying the domestic United States and what have you… why not self-contained, or you know, something a little more manly? Domestic is just so feminine.”
“You’re so feminine.”
“Shut up, Reno.”
“Let me transfer you, okay, somebody will be with you in just a second, hang on.”
An abrupt beep in his ear told Axel that he was being transferred, and then annoying classical music started playing. “He transferred me.”
“Probably glad he dodged the bullet. Why are you calling them anyway? What’s wrong with your ticket for tomorrow?”
“I want to get out tonight.”
“What? Why? You can’t do that!”
“Why not? It’s a completely changeable ticket, guy even said so when I bought it. No worries, no money, not that you’d care or anything, but just saying, it’s doable-“
“No, you idiot. Have you forgotten? The whole “after funeral” shindig? The whole “meet people at the house and mourn?” The family thing? Hello? Are you even in there?”
“Think reasonably, Reno. Your mom was pissed. Your entire family doesn’t know who I am. Excuse me, I’d rather not.”
Reno seemed to be fuming. “This is your father’s funeral. You need to pay him respect.”
“I’m here, aren’t I? I’m sorry but a night of answering awkward questions and dealing with your mother’s glares isn’t exactly my idea of a hip time.”
“Will you stop ragging on my mom? She’s not a fucking devil, Ax.”
Axel chose not to reply and instead focus very intently on the classy classical music in his ear.
“Listen to me, you little prick, you have to come. I don’t care if it’s awkward, I don’t care if it’s crazy, you have to be there.”
“Yes, well, it wouldn’t be awkward for you now, would it?”
“Why not? I brought it up.”
“Yea, and now I have to pay for it so honestly, I’d rather not go.”
There was silence.
“It’s not the end of the world,” Reno said, trying to bring back some of his bite.
“Explaining a sudden appearance of a family member is kind of world ending for some, I’d think.”
“No, it’s not. They’ll get over it.”
“And ask what, seventy hundred questions in the process? I’d rather not, Reno. Oh hi, I’m his brother. Oh no, I’m twenty one, always been around. Yea, no, they never talked about me, it was all a big hush hush secret, sorry you didn’t get the memo.”
“It’s not like that,” Reno said, uncomfortably.
“Right, of course it isn’t. I really-“
“Roxas Hart, Rogart Airlines, we offer the best-“
“Well, what are the odds?”
There was silence on the other end, complete and dead silence.
“Roxas?” Axel asked, hoping direly he hadn’t lost the connection and have to be plunged back into conversation with his brother. “Are you there?”
“This is Roxas Hart,” the voice on the other end said, faintly. “Rogart Airlines…”
“Oh hey, yea, thought that was you. This is Axel Stone. You helped me with my compassion fare the other day, because I was flying out for my mom’s funeral. You said it was completely changeable and stuff because you were so helpful so I was calling to change it. That’s possible right?”
“Axel Stone,” Roxas intoned.
“Right! You remember me? Small world, huh? Don’t you guys have a bunch of different offices around-Jesus Christ Reno, watch the fucking road!”
“Lose your connection yet?’ Reno asked icily, the car starting again after the near rear end with the Cadillac in front of it.
“No, Axel said, glaring at his brother. “Sorry Rox, you still there?”
“I’m still here,” Roxas said, still sounding a little shocked. “Right, small world. Did you have your confirmation number?”
“Confirmation number? Um…. Did that come with the email?”
“The one that was sent to ilightthingsonfire1209 at yahoo?” That was sent with no sense of humor or irony and Axel sort of chuckled nervously.
“Yea, that one. Give me a second.” He flipped his phone around and played with a few keys before he got to his email and pulled up the one he’d received from the airline. “Ok, I got it. Here you go.” He read off a series of numbers and he heard Roxas tapping away at a keyboard. Axel said nothing and neither did Reno so it was quiet for a few seconds. Reno continued forward in the procession, but there were no more sudden stops. He seemed to be sulking in his corner of the car, staring straight forward and actually concentrating on the road. I should piss him off more often, Axel thought, pressing his forehead against the window and trying to see how far away they were from the cemetery, which was still nowhere in sight. Reno’s Focus was the fourth car in the procession, after his mother’s and his grandparents and of course, the hearse. Behind them was the car that carried Reno’s uncle Rude and a few aunts and Axel briefly wondered if there had been a brawl about the order of cars in the procession. Knowing Rude and Angela, there probably had been.
“Okay, I have your record right up here, Mr. Stone,” the voice said, still tonelessly. “You said you were trying to get out tonight?”
“The later the better, thanks, Roxas,” Axel said, “on one of those cool overnight flights you-RENO.”
Reno slammed on the brakes again and Axel toppled forward, again almost into the dash. “Stop acting like a fucking twelve year old!”
“I’m the one acting like I’m twelve? How do you figure that?”
“Oh, I don’t know, you’re trying to fucking kill us?”
“You’re the one trying to get out before your father’s wake!”
“I’m not-“
“My mom kicked me out of her car because she wouldn’t let you ride with us-“
“Pity me,” Axel muttered.
“-and she wouldn’t let me put you in the eulogy and I did anyway and I gave your mom the money to fly you out here and I let you stay with me and you broke my fucking door-“
“You didn’t give my mom anything, shut up.”
“I’ve been sending her money for years, Axel.”
“Fuck off Reno; I get my fucking monthly allowance.”
“Your mom doesn’t and you used her credit card for the fucking flight, didn’t you?”
Silence, and then Roxas said in his ear, “Uh, I have a flight that departs at-“
“Sorry to waste your time, Roxas, I’ll call you back in a sec.”
“Wait, who gave you my exten-“
Axel hung up the phone, flipped it shut, and slid it into his pocket. He pressed his face once more into the glass and saw the front green lawn of the cemetery. It always amazed him how cemetery lawns were always the greenest. Death was probably a highly profitable business. He hadn’t yet heard about the gravestone that Angela had picked out for his father but he bet it was magnificent, classy, and cost more than the tuition at a local state university for a year, including room and board. The funeral had been a lavish affair, the gathering at the mansion would probably host more than two hundred people-including the ones who hadn’t been able to squeeze into the church-and probably have more food than children in Africa ate in one year, and there was no reason to believe that this headstone would be cheap. She had probably ordered a mausoleum to be made.
“Why do you send her money?”
Reno made a derisive noise. “Now you want to talk to me?”
“I always want to talk to you, babe. I’m just curious. I’m not changing my plans, I’m just wondering.”
“Why don’t you ask her?”
“Because we’re about to attend a burial and I thought that in the time allotted I wouldn’t be able to get hold of her, but luckily I have someone on one side of the issue sitting right here so I thought it would be pretty prudent to just ask that person. Was that wrong of me to think?”
“Yes,” Reno said shortly, signaling to turn into the cemetery.
“Dude, we’re in a procession, you don’t have to signal. In fact, you never signal. What gives?”
“I’m done with this conversation, Axel.”
Axel felt the thin patience he was trying to oblige giving away. “Listen asshole, I can ask my mom and she won’t say anything because my mom’s a bitch and doesn’t tell me shit. I can’t exactly go running off to your mom because, frankly, your mom would rather I didn’t exist. Obviously our grandparents don’t know and it’s not like I have much left to go on in this family. So can you cut the fucking crap and tell me what the fuck you’re talking about?”
“I will if you stay tonight.”
Axel kept his mouth shut.
“Give a little, take a little, babe.”
“That’s playing dirty.”
“Like I care.”
“Obviously you don’t.” Axel said nothing else and watched the car in front of them roll to a stop. Reno gently lulled the car, pulled the brake, and turned off the ignition. In front of them Angela and their grandparents got out of their cars but they didn’t move.
“Don’t forget to turn your phone off,” Reno reminded, though he still didn’t move.
“That’s the most important thing,” Axel said demurely, licking his lips and nervously smoothing back his unruly hair.
“Give or take, babe. Tell me later.” Reno opened the door and was out in a second; Axel heard the gravel crunching underneath his feet. Axel breathed as Aerith came up alongside the door, looking at him curiously, waiting for him to get out.
“Asshole,” he muttered, before he opened the door and stood up.
__
“Who’s Axel Stone?”
Demyx, in the middle of a call, looked at him like he sprouting wings from his back and held up a finger, telling him to be patient. He motioned vaguely at the computer screen, spent a second studying a record, and then toggled back over to a jigsaw puzzle he was completing. Roxas’s first thought was that half the time Demyx got New York and Newark confused and yet he could find his way into an illegal game on the internet. His second thought was to smash Demyx’s face into the screen at the highest velocity he could achieve from a dead standstill. A running leap at it would produce a higher velocity but Demyx, by some act of the gods above, would probably notice something other than the game for one moment and possibly react and though the possibility was very slim since Demyx’s attention span was about half a second shorter than a toddler’s, it still existed and Roxas would rather not take chances at the moment and just complete a stunning face smash into the screen.
He chose not to act on it and instead pushed Demyx’s shoulder aside and pushed his mute button. Demyx, in alarm, smacked his hand away and pressed the button, saying, “Dude I’m in the middle of a call, fuck off.”
Roxas had half a second to savor the wide-eyed panicked look on Demyx’s face before it turned into a melting puddle of remorse as he babbled an apology to the customer. He then spent the next few moments amusedly observing Demyx attempt to chat up the customer, who seemed like he was halfway responding to Demyx’s fervent attempts. A few moments later Demyx had extended his reservation free of charge and then passionately expressed his thanks for the customer choosing to fly their airline. A moment later he was hitting his “unavailable” button and shooting up, fists flying without abandon toward Roxas’s face.
Roxas easily dodged and grabbed his fists, forcing him back into the chair and pushing, so that he rolled back and hit the desk, causing his computer to rattle noisily and a few of the pictures pinned to the soft corkboard to fall downward, the tacks rolling around dangerously.
“Hey, I’m sorry, but you pressed the button,” Roxas said, on his toes and awaiting a retaliation.
“Dude if my supervisor hears that I’m fucking dead,” Demyx said, pale face even paler than usual. “What the fuck do you want?”
“Who’s Axel Stone?”
“Like I fucking know,” Demyx said, sounding utterly depressed and staring at his telephone pad. “Do you think they’ll let me keep the headset? It makes me feel cool.”
“You’re not going to get fired, chill out,” Roxas said, “just tell them it was my fault and I pressed the button and you didn’t know. I’ll totally take the blame.”
“I still said it,” said the taller blonde morosely. “Lexaeus is going to kill me.”
“Wouldn’t doubt it,” Roxas said agreeably, feeling slightly bad for his friend. “But tell me, who the fuck is Axel Stone?”
“I don’t know, your boyfriend? Shouldn’t you be in your cube?”
“I had to ask you.”
“Just put it in my record, I check that thing like four times a day. Or you could have just waited until break. In like forty minutes. Is it that important? Do you miss him that bad?”
“No,” Roxas said, “it’s not! He’s some crazy who’s somehow gotten my extension and keeps calling me!”
Demyx stared at him for a second, and then wolf whistled. “Roxas has a stalker, Roxas has a crazy homo stalker.”
“Shut up,” Roxas snapped irritably. “He’s not my stalker, but somehow he’s gotten my extension and he keeps calling me. He called asking about prices for a compassion rate and I gave him and he said he’d call back, so he called back like four minutes later and bought it and he just called me again to see about changing it and then he hung up and said he’d call back!”
“Roxas and Allen, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-“
“What are you, fucking twelve? And his name’s Axel and I just want to change my extension. You think I can do that? Are you sure it wasn’t you?”
“Nope, don’t know any Axels. Sorry to disappoint. So what’s wrong? He’s only called three times and he called for valid reasons. Loosen up. Have a little fun. With him.”
“I don’t even know him.” Roxas slumped against the wall of the yellow cubicle. “I’m just annoyed, that’s all. It’s no big deal. I just want to know how he got my extension.”
“Maybe one of your mortal enemies gave it out,” Demyx suggested, carefully picking up the tacks that had fallen out of the corkboard and replacing his pictures, all of which seemed to consist of some beach, an eye patch, and an oversized guitar that Roxas constantly made fun of him for playing. Who played a sitar nowadays?
“I don’t have any mortal enemies,” Roxas said crossly. “At least I don’t think so.”
“Well like you said, no big deal. Talk to Lexaeus about changing your extension if you’re so worried about your stalker.”
“He’s not a stalker, he’s just crazy!”
“I thought that was the definition of stalker. Just chill out. You’re wasting my precious break minutes, you should go.”
“What, have a hot date for fifteen minutes later?’ Roxas grumbled, swiping his hair out of his eyes irritably.
“Sure do,” Demyx said, mysteriously.
“Right. I totally believe you.”
“You should. It’s true.”
“Right.”
“Really! Why don’t you believe me? You don’t believe I could get a date?” Demyx sounded a combination of both flustered and panicked.
“Dude, chill out. You’re wasting my precious break minutes.”
“Well fuck you.” Growling, Demyx turned back to his computer screen. “If I get fired I’m totally blaming you.”
“Nope. That was all you.”
“No it wasn’t!
“Right.” Roxas saluted him with two fingers and backed out of the cubicle, with already half a mind to go down to Lexaeus’s office to change his extension. Who could have given it out to that lunatic? His mind rolled over a few options, but none of them seemed to have any real validity. Of course this entire thing was just a little bit out of the ordinary. He’d heard of people in the office who had gotten stalkers, but most of the ones who had regular customers were those who had sane, loyal customers committed to them because of good service. Roxas wouldn’t know anything about that, but he did know that in order for those sane, loyal customers to keep reaching the same agent they first had to get the extension from said agent. And Roxas gave nobody his extension. Naminé was the extent.
There had to be some sort of explanation for this disturbing situation.
Maybe he wouldn’t call back. Roxas had heard the entire conversation between this Axel and whoever else was in the car and frankly, Roxas wanted no part of it. He sort of pitied the guy, from the parts of the conversation he’d been able to follow, but no way did pity give way to stalker. The easily distractible man had called it fate; maybe he was telling the truth, though Roxas doubt it to the extreme. They had over six hundred agents in this building along, along with the massive office in Texas. Fate my ass, he’s stalking me.
“I see you’re not on your phone.”
Roxas jumped about five feet in the air-which was just about as tall as he was-and turned around hastily to see Lexaeus standing there, watching him with those eerily quiet brown eyes. Roxas tried to fake a smile, but it came out rather stretched and obviously fake. “Hi, Lex. I was going to see you. I’m having a problem and I need to change my extension.” He paused, wondering if that was enough, and then blurted out-just in case Lexaeus missed the urgency of the entire situation-in a rush, “I have this stalker who keeps calling me and I don’t know who gave him my extension but he keeps calling me and he’s crazy and I don’t get it and I’d really just rather have my extension changed to-“
“Are we talking about Mr. Stone?”
Roxas froze, probably looking very deer in the headlights at the moment. “Uh, I think that’s his name, he keeps calling with the name Axel and-“
“Well, he has a valid record, Roxas, and he requests your assistance. He also didn’t request your extension, so it’s really just a twist of fate he keeps getting through to you.”
That threw out the entire “aliens are trying to kill me” bid.
“I would just expect you to keep offering our top quality customer service.” Lexaeus’s eyes didn’t change but Roxas could easily tell the quiet amusement in his voice. “So, do me a favor and get back to your desk, please. You might as well go ahead and give Mr. Stone your extension anyway. Sounds like you two are becoming fast friends.”
Roxas looked at him with horrified eyes, breath nearly hitching in throat at the thought of such a slimy word as friends.
“Of course I’m just kidding,” Lexaeus said, still with that deep, quiet amusement in his tone. “I wouldn’t expect that. But please, back to your desk before I have to write up documentation about your absence from the phone.”
“Yes, sir,” Roxas said, resisting the urge to snap off a sharp salute and then turned on his heel and started marching back down toward his own desk, trying to work out the mathematical probability in his head. He got lost somewhere after the second equation-math had never, ever been any sort of strong suit with him-but had successfully deduced that this Axel Stone reaching him three times in a row was highly unlikely. Perhaps Lexaeus was trying to trick him. Make him see things, or make him run around in circles and chase his tail to provide some sort of excellent customer service. Maybe Demyx and Lexaeus were both onto it and were both trying to fool him. Lexaeus didn’t seem the type but perhaps Demyx had seduced him and coerced him to go on with the plan. Demyx had a big mouth, after all, and Roxas was positive he knew how to put it to good use. The mental image wasn’t worth thinking about.
He got back to his desk and sat, staring hard at the headset before resignedly placing it back on his head. If was about to live a life full of roofs and calls from Axel Stone, he might as well start getting use to it. And he had been having such a pleasant day too.
A call immediately jumped up from the queue into his ear and he winced, a wince that came through on his shaky voice over the phone. “Roxas Hart, Rogart-“
“Yo, brother, I’m trying to get from Miami over to Dallas, you dig?”
Hardly daring to hope, Roxas breathed out, “Your name, sir?”
Roxas missed most of the name-he thought it was something fancy like John Smith-but the one thing that he was positive about was that the name was not Axel Stone.
Maybe this day could be salvaged, after all.
__
Once again, Axel wondered if there had been heated, dramatic discussion regarding the pallbearer choices. With Angela everything seemed quite dramatic-Axel wasn’t sure he’d known of anything in her life that had been peaceful, or even just calm. It was some part of that fiery temperament-or what Axel liked to think of as her bitch attitude-that had drawn his father to her. At least at first. Men made mistakes, though.
Not that Axel was presuming his father’s marriage a mistake, but one had to wonder what the hell he had been thinking when he’d married the broad.
In any case, he watched without concealing his glee that he had not been granted the very privileged honor of clutching the casket and making the way over to the hole in the ground. Axel had not been mistaken in his assessment of the entire situation-Angela’s purchase would probably pay the rent, keep the lawn watered, and maybe even buy a wreath every day for the next few months. The stone was nearly as tall as Axel and beautifully carved, intricate patterns of filigree woven all along its shiny marble surface. The top curves were ocean waves, sloping steeply upward before dropping straight in the back to the bottom, where more crashing waves were carved. There was some sort of faulty logic to that but Axel did appreciate the two flames crawling up the front two sides.
He wasn’t close enough yet to see the inscription but he was sure that Angela had gotten her priest, mother, father, uncle, doctor, nurse practitioner, female doctor, lawyer, banker, baker, personal shopper, cook, and an assortment of other people to read it and make sure that it sounded very honorific and proper. Nothing was too extravagant for Angela. A few more steps would take him into enough distance to see the delicate font but right now he was having fun watching Reno struggle with the weight of the coffin.
A few uncles, Reno, and even his grandfather was hoisting the coffin up and marching solemnly toward the plot. He heard his grandmother’s sniffs and Tifa’s spiked stiletto boots crunching into the gravel. Aerith was walking alongside him, clutching his arm and still not showing any signs of giving in or crying. He was sure she would break down later, though he wasn’t sure if he’d be around to see it. She had simply adored his father and on the surface, he supposed there were reasons for that, even if he failed to see them. He held onto her to support her as she clutched his arm and he supposed there was irony in that too. There was no irony, however, for the increased murmurings that had gone on since most of the primary party had exited their vehicles after the hellishly long procession.
He could hear them, especially that loud gramps in the back, the first one he’d greeted at the door. That one was complaining loudly to his neighbor, wondering who the hell this brother was and who had greeted him and why the greeter had called himself Reno and not Axel. Axel smirked to himself, pleased with his work, until he saw that Aerith was watching him intensely and then he tried to fix his face back into a mask of solemnity.
“Why would you tell them you were Reno?” she inquired softly, still holding tightly onto his arm.
“Why not? It’s easier to explain.”
“You act like they have no idea who they are…”
“Oh, they don’t, trust me. I’m not exactly a favored son of a big wealthy man, that would be Reno. I might as well just go ahead and reap the benefits of being tall and looking Irish.”
“You aren’t Irish.”
“I know, it was just a nationality joke. I was making fun of the Irish. For the flaming red hair and freckles.”
“You don’t have freckles either.”
“Do you think I’d look cute with freckles?”
He saw her watery, pure smile. “Aw, you look cute in anything. I don’t know if they would take away from your eyes though.”
He frowned. “But you just said I look cute in anything.”
“But it’s really the eyes that do it. I think a light coat wouldn’t hurt. Too many and you’d look like a cow.”
“Moo, moo,” Axel intoned, as they neared the headstone. He could see the script now, a smooth, fluid script that ran along the length of the entire face, listing the standard spiel about his name, birth place, birth date and death date, along with the list of who he was beloved of: he was a beloved husband, father, son, uncle, community organizer, beneficiary, and a good man. There was a quote underneath that Axel couldn’t make out and didn’t much care about-Angela had never been very good at picking worthwhile quotes and making full use of them. Her favorite quote was something about beer and boys and not wasting time. It was a good thing she had probably gotten a million people to look at the proposed inscription before committing to it, because if she hadn’t, children would probably be scared for life coming into this cemetery.
It really was funny, the lengths people went to for proper funeral arrangements. As far as Axel was concerned, he wanted to be burned-simple, pure, and just great for the ozone layer. He saw the coffin finally drop into the thing that would go ahead and lower it into the coffin-apparently Angela had paid big bucks for that too, not that it was really any worry, but the dramatic nature of it all irked him. Behind her and the crane-thing that would lower the dead remains of some dead mammal was an open variety of green lawn. The lengths people would go. It was the family plot and that’s where Reno and Angela and any grandkids from anyone would go. It was a little eerie to be standing here, looking at that, and knowing that someone was going to be buried there. He wondered if Reno were feeling it. A look at his brother told him that Reno was just annoyed with the entire pallbearer thing, as he was now sweating profusely and his smooth hair had deflated a little bit. A quick glance at Tifa told him that she was still all eyes for him, which sorely disappointed Axel, as the thought of anyone finding his brother attractive was just about as weird as someone telling him they found him attractive.
The pallbearers went to their folding seats and Axel untangled Aerith’s arm from his with a solemn look and marched up to the front row, glaring at Reno the entire way. Reno seemed to be concerned with his hair at the moment, trying to push it back but failing. Right now his hair was as unruly as Axel’s, which caused Axel no bit of grief. A smile or a smirk would more than likely be misinterpreted as tyranny or rebellion, however, and that would just cause grief later on that he did not feel completely ready to deal with, so instead he just sat in the seat, again between his brother and his grandmother, and waited for the entire thing to start.
People started to file in behind him and a quick glance behind him told him that Aerith was sitting there, like she had earlier, starting resolutely at the crane-thing holding the coffin. He wanted to flash a quick smile, anything to give her some strength, but there went Tifa, sitting there and sniffing loudly, nearly as loudly as his grandmother. Resisting the urge to scowl at her, he turned back around, to where Angela was standing and directing traffic, giving thanks for coming and accepting many hugs and well wishes. Reno was standing too, and so were his grandparents, so at the moment he was alone in the front row save a few uncles and aunts at the end of the row. He felt sort of small and alone and wondered if he was supposed to be doing Reno’s job and if he’d been banned from it because of Reno’s antics earlier at the funeral. Probably, but that was fine, Axel liked sitting here and being stared obviously just as well.
He wasn’t as vain to think that his entire “reveal” at the church had rocked too many peoples’ world-the ones who cared deeply about it already knew. But the ones who didn’t really care, the ones who had known his father for some of his financial things and were just acquaintances had probably been a little shocked. Reno had been more or less well known as their father’s son-he had that shock of red hair that had made Takeshi Stone memorable and he was loud and not very graceful and the biggest flirt that had graced the Stone family for years so most people knew of Reno, even if they didn’t know him. A second son had probably never been mentioned or even thought of-which was perfectly fine with Axel. He’d spent two decades of his life not existing and being thrust into the spotlight so suddenly was making him feel extremely uncomfortable and for the millionth time that day he found himself wishing that Reno had just kept that well known mouth of his snapped shut.
The greetings were done as soon as the rows of black folding chairs that had been set out were filled up and all that was left was the front. The eyes on him were still pretty much focused on him, and Axel didn’t blame the, since seriously, who really had cared about Takeshi Stone? Most of them were business acquaintances, but some of them were simply gossip hounds and seriously, what was more interesting at a funeral than some sudden son? Nothing, that was what, and when Reno took his seat by Axel’s side, Axel had resumed glaring at him.
Reno, for his part, was still primarily concerned for his hair and kept trying to slick it back suavely, like it had been earlier, but it was springing up, just like Axel’s, and he imagined they probably looked like two trolls. Axel shifted uncomfortably in his hot suit, feeling the knotted bulge of the tie stick into his leg a little bit painfully. The preacher stood up and Axel prepared to sleep with his eyes open again because seriously, what was the point of speaking again? They had already covered his life, his death, his family, his extramarital affairs, what else was there to say about him? Could the priest just bless the ground some other time so they get on to getting drunk over at the mansion?
Apparently not, and Axel napped for about twenty minutes, the sun not pleasant at all on his skin and he wished he had brought his sunglasses, because then he could hide his eyes and not have to sleep with them open. He briefly wondered if he was swaying, because he felt like at any moment he was about to topple over into Reno’s lap and fall fast asleep. He must have looked overly dozing, because a sharp elbow to his ribs made him sit up taller and a sideways glance revealed that Reno was glaring him, and so was Angela. There was a reason people had called his mother brave back in the day, or at least that’s what she had told him when she ever spoke to him, and facing that woman was probably why. Her looks couldn’t kill; her looks could bury the entire continent of Africa under swarms of disease infected fire ants, which was painful, and undoubtedly worse.
A few moments later the mini sermon was apparently over and he was startled to his feet with the rest of them. They stood and grasped hands and when Axel took Reno’s hand he tried to squeeze hard, but Reno was having none of it and ignoring him pointedly. With a resigned thought that perhaps he should try to care that he was sitting at his father’s open graveside, he focused instead on the grinding noise of the crane as it started to lower the casket into the hole. A song suddenly blasted into the air, some sort of whimsical little church song, and at the first note he heard his grandmother burst into heaving tears, gripping his hand painfully and sobbing into his grandfather’s shoulder. Axel felt, at the moment, extremely, extremely weak and foolish and about a dozen other adjectives that labeled him a bad grandson.
The song and the ensuing increased sobbing went on until the casket had been lowered into the hole and the crane-thing had pulled back up its cables and was shut off. The song increased its tempo and finished with a resounding, quavering, silver, piercing tone that filled up the grassy lawns of the cemetery and made Axel’s ears ring. He was still holding onto his weeping grandmother’s hand and she was trying to stagger forward now, so he tugged his hand free of his brother’s and clutched hers, half afraid that she was going to pitch into the grave right after her dead son. Angela and Reno were moving forward now, throwing in flowers and when she tugged his hand even harder, he realized that she was trying to do the same. Feeling a little put out, he still grasped her hand loosely as she tossed in a deep red rose. Pulling back, she was crying a little more softly, but she was turning now, and throwing her arms around Axel’s upper torso, since she was too short to really put them around his shoulders.
He held her, feeling incredibly awkward and weird and holding her close. Her tears were dampening his black sleeves and he tried to make shushing noises, hoping they were appropriate in this situation. A few seconds later his grandfather gracefully took her into his own arms and he was free to stand there awkwardly now, instead of just holding her awkwardly. The ceremony was apparently over; a few people were throwing more flowers into the open grave but most were shying away, over under the white tent that had been set up for that specific purpose. Soon enough they’d be loading back into the cars to head over to the mansion, the cars they’d just all driven here in one long procession. Such a silly thing, these funerals.
Approaching the hole in the ground, he peered inside at the coffin. It was sleek, mahogany, with a golden design on the front that he could barely see through all the flower petals. It was probably the family crest. He tilted his head slightly. Now that he thought about it, there probably was a family crest.
“Pretty nifty, huh?”
Reno’s voice was soft and slightly feathery. He was standing with his hands in his pockets at the edge of the grave, looking over. Axel said nothing.
“It was pretty expensive but you know her. I found these in your suitcase.”
And suddenly out of the blue, Reno handed him the pack of Camels he had stashed into the small zipped up part of his tattered suitcase. Axel looked at the blue and green pack for a good second, leaving Reno’s hands outstretched there holding the square box. A second later he snatched it out of his brother’s hand like it was on fire and stuck it into his mouth, shoving the flimsy box into his pocket to rest against the knotted tie. A pat down revealed no lighter, which was probably good, because smoking at your father’s open graveside while women were weeping into the background on a sunny day was just too cliché for him.
Content to just let it sit against his lips, he told Reno, “Don’t think just because you gave me these I’m sticking around for tonight.”
Reno frowned. “I was hoping a bribe was going to work.”
“More like get the fuck out of my suitcase asshole.”
A few of the mourners around the hole glanced up.
“Hey, it’s in my apartment. The way I see it, it’s my property.”
“Great, fix your own damn door then. That was your fault anyway.”
“You were the one that wouldn’t get up. And you had the door locked.”
Axel narrowed his eyes. “Do you think that maybe had something to do with the fact that I didn’t want you going through my fucking suitcase?”
“What, afraid I was going to find your vibrator?”
A couple of the mourners started to chatter nervously.
“Don’t make me fucking tackle you into that damn grave, Reno.”
“That would simply be barbaric, little bro.” Reno made a sudden move and Axel didn’t have a chance to escape as Reno suddenly hugged him, hard. Axel nearly staggered backward from the excess weight, but the cigarette did manage to drop from his lips, roll forward through the apparently sprightly grass, and drop into the hole. Axel’s eyes widened in panic and he tried to sputter out a breath and say something, something like “I just dropped a new cigarette into my father’s grave, let me go and retrieve it before it sets everything on fire, thanks,” but Reno was holding him too hard.
“You know,” Reno breathed, “it wouldn’t kill you to show some emotion now and again.”
Axel scoffed, but the sound was suddenly pitchy. “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to get off me, asshole. I dropped my fucking cigarette in that damn hole.” There was a pause, and then, a bit more softly, “A fucking brand new cigarette, asshole. Brand fucking new.”
“Cigarettes are bad for you and you should stop cussing so much, you little prick,” was the reply and Reno released him without another word, stepping away and heading toward the white tent. Axel shook himself, aware that there were a few people watching him, like they had been throughout the entire ceremony. He inched forward another step, glancing once more at the headstone, and he saw the white stick sitting there, stuck between the petals in the bed of flowers that was now covering the top of the casket.
What a waste.
He hadn’t even gotten two steps before he had his cell phone out and he was dialing the number he’d just called in the car.