KH AU: Institution Thirteen, 4
Warning: Suggestions of slashiness between several combinations of the following: Sora, Riku, Axel, and Roxas. Involves the crazification and institutionalization of next to every character within Kingdom Hearts, including but not limited to your favorite Square characters and your childhood memories of Disney characters. (Collaboration and shameless encouragement credit goes to refracting, among others.)
.institution thirteen: 4.
The fact that anything had changed between them was Sora's little secret. They laughed together, same as before, and they threw frisbees around and raced, same as before. It was a week just like any other.
And, same as before, Riku would glance at him sidelong when he thought it wouldn't be noticed. He flushed sometimes, high in his cheeks and around his ears and nearly hidden in the fall of his hair. He was reluctant to step away, to break friendly handshakes and impulsive hugs.
The thing that had changed was that now Sora was looking for those things, and slowly, he started to see them.
"I told you he wanted you," Roxas said smugly.
No, that's not what you said. Sora watched Riku thoughtfully as the older boy toyed with his skateboard between his hands.
"Is it weird, having a psychiatrist for a father?" he asked. "I mean. If he's anything at the dinner table like he is in his office..."
Riku grinned a bit. "He's not that bad. But -- yeah, it's weird. I mean, Dad's really smart, and you can't bluff or lie to him. But he's always busy, and he's just so bad at being a normal dad. Like, if I come home bloody and bruised, he wouldn't even look up, he'd just remind me where the bandages are. He wouldn't bother to ask because he thinks he already knows."
"Jackass," Roxas said, but Sora thought back to the way Ansem had talked about his son the other day, kind and hopeful. He'd wanted, really wanted, for him to have a close friend he was comfortable with. I bet he doesn't neglect Riku on purpose. He wants him to be happy. Sora joked lightly, "That's totally weird. He can't stop asking me questions -- especially ones he thinks he already knows the answer to."
That startled a laugh out of Riku. "Yeah? Maybe he likes you more." Riku smiled at him, a warm smile that made his eyes almost seem to sparkle. "I bet if I got myself committed, he'd pay a lot of attention to me."
"Yeah, at exactly two in the afternoon every Monday and Thursday."
They both laughed, but Roxas said quietly, "He thinks he already knows what's up with us, too." Sora let his laughter die out, but he still smiled. The blond tucked his head briefly against Sora's shoulder. "...what about his mother?"
"Oh yeah," Sora said, thoughtful. Riku darted him a quick, uncertain look. "What about your mom? She must be pretty cool to put up with him, right?"
Long-fingered hands rubbed around the edges of the skateboard. "She was pretty cool, as I remember. She died when I was seven, though, so it's not all that clear."
"Seven?" said Roxas, but Sora didn't hear him, stuttering an apologetic, "Wow, I didn't know. Sorry to bring it up."
Riku glanced at him sidelong. "I don't mind... telling you about it. It was a long time ago."
Maybe he was just hearing that subtle emphasis on "you". Telling you about it. Roxas nudged him in the ribs, so he had to smile.
"Well, let me tell you about my family. My dad's kind of a nut too, only the kind who used to be on the football team, you know...?"
* * *
He was about to turn the corner when someone grabbed him by the collar and yanked. Sora squawked and flailed, nearly bit Roxas' hand when he slapped it over his mouth, and then sighed, staring sadly down at his popsicle all over the tiled floor.
"Whurm ee ooin?" he asked mournfully, hanging limply in Roxas' grip. Mulan'd even been on her good personality long enough to share her dessert and now the other one was going to say that Sora didn’t like her enough to eat her popsicle.
Roxas kicked him in the ankle. "Shut up," he hissed. "They'll hear you." Sora tried to open his mouth again to ask who and froze as a lazy, low voice filtered to his ears.
"How's the patrol, sir?"
It was the most disrespectful sir that Braig had ever heard, which was how he knew it was Axel. He put his hands on his hips (which meant conveniently over his gun) and turned to face the redhead, who was leaning against the wall and smirking. Braig smirked back. Punk.
Around the corner, Roxas finally dropped Sora into a sad little heap on the ground and edged closer to the end of the wall.
"Your cute stunt the other day got me in some trouble with the boss," Braig drawled. The 'trouble' had actually mostly been mutual complaints about Axel, and a sad 'maybe we should just replace your patrol with a 24/7 fire hazard watch?' from Ansem, but Axel didn't have to know that.
The small smirk on Roxas' face was the kind that made Sora want to hide in bed with the pillow over his head until the zombie or mutant iguana or whatever monster from the horror movie of the week stopped eating all the townspeople.
"Think it'll be a seven?"
Sora sighed, wobbling to his feet and pressing himself against Roxas to try to get a view of the speakers. Roxas sounded entirely too gleeful.
"You're the one who's good at grading this stuff, not me," he answered.
Axel shrugged. "Well, you don't have to worry about that anymore. Icehead says I don't get to have matches until I get my clean bill of health, which, at my current rate of rehabilitation, will be never." He shoved himself off the wall and grinned like a wolf. "So, with that established. I don't suppose you're interested in sharing your new patrol routes with me?"
Braig snorted and grinned back. "Boy, you are six kinds of trouble."
The redhead blinked slowly. "Only six?"
Braig shook his head, brushing by Axel and turning the corner with a little mock salute at the two boys as he passed.
Roxas grinned, muffling his laughter against Sora's neck, and gasped out "eight." Sora didn’t miss the way the light was gleaming in his eyes as he watched Axel walk away, smirking.
* * *
"Ah, Sora! Just who I wanted to see."
He turned his head back, removing the popsicle from his mouth. It had taken him almost an hour to get another one, arguing with Elaeus about his sugar intake, and he wasn't risking another accident. Dr. Ansem trotted over to him, waving as if thinking Sora might have missed him. The blond man was breathing a bit hard. Sora wondered if something had happened, or if he had a favor to ask. Roxas muttered something unintelligible around his own popsicle, but Sora could guess.
"What's up?" The brunet stretched his arms up, folding his hands behind his head.
"Tell him we already had a pointless session with him this morning," Roxas sneered. Sora ignored him.
Ansem drew to a halt a few steps away, flashed him a rueful grin, and then ducked his head for a moment to catch his breath. "I trust you're well?" he asked, head down.
"Sure."
"And how are you doing, Roxas?"
The blond bristled, and Sora sympathized. Nothing is more condescending than someone who thinks you're crazy pretending to believe in the voices in your head to make you feel better.
"Tell him I suddenly feel nauseous."
"He's being a brat," Sora reported, and took a careful step back as Roxas glared at him.
Ansem chuckled. "I wish I could say I was surprised." He grinned, to show he was teasing if Sora was correct, but that didn't stop Roxas from making an indignant sound. "There were a few things, actually -- first, I just wanted to make sure you were aware -- a little rule of ours." The doctor brushed back his hair. "Axel isn't allowed to have matches."
That bit of perfect obviousness had Sora blinking a bit, confused, and behind him Roxas relented in his irritation enough to snicker. "I was there when he set fire to the curtains," he reminded. That had been a week ago and the new hangings still hadn't arrived.
"Well, of course you were, we discussed that at the time. However, just knowing that someone presents a fire hazard and understanding that it's very important that this person not be allowed incendiary materials is another thing," Ansem said, sagely.
Roxas asked the popsicle in his hand, "Is there a situation where someone sets things on fire, and then nobody cares whether or not he's still got matches?"
Personally, Sora agreed with Ansem, and felt that it was definitely a good idea to take extra lengths to make sure that his institution didn't burn down. But he'd learned to be suspicious of the motives of doctors in doing anything. He asked, "Why... why are you telling me, though?"
"Oh, it's not just you," the doctor hastened to inform him. "It's pretty common practice after he manages to get one -- we remind everyone that providing him with matches or assisting him in his mischief is a huge setback to his therapy, and will be punished when it's discovered."
Roxas hummed around his popsicle and said nothing about that. Sora said, "Well, you can consider the message received. If that's all you wanted..." Everyone, huh? Maybe Roxas was teaching him properly after all, because suspicion was definitely rubbing off.
"Not at all. That's not the big news," the doctor said cheerfully. "Today we got a phone call from your friend Kairi."
Sora was the only one who heard Roxas's sharp intake of breath.
* *
Ansem stood where he was, watching Sora wend his way back into the lounge. After a beat, Dilan stepped up beside him, stern features interested. Even was hovering along the wall behind them.
"It would appear that you were correct in your hypothesis," Even mused, and Dilan agreed, "There does seem to be some sort of tangible connection between Sora and the bastard pyro."
Not being quite as bitter as some of his colleagues, Ansem was perfectly capable of enjoying Axel as a person and still wanting to strangle him for his antics, but he was accustomed to the way the other senior staff talked about the redheaded teen. He'd long ago given up any attempts at getting them to moderate their talk -- for others, perhaps, but Axel's reputation amongst them was a lost cause. Instead he said mildly, "Axel attracts a lot of attention from the more cognizant headcases. It seemed like a logical conclusion when they started interacting."
"Unhealthy attention," Even observed distastefully.
"What, Saix? As long as he stays on his medication there shouldn't be any repetition of the incident from before."
Dilan scowled. "I still find it difficult to believe that Axel wasn't at least partially at fault for what happened."
Ansem reminded him, "You know the way these things work. If the patient is off medication, no one needs to ask any further." Privately he had his own doubts, but parents did not want to hear that when their offspring was in pain. (Even parents who should have known better, such as Axel's.)
"We are, however, talking about Sora's case at the moment." Even tapped a pale finger against bloodless lips, his eyes screwed closed in concentration. "We could take steps to prevent them from coming into contact. We can all agree that Sora becoming influenced by Axel's behavior would be a nightmare."
"I think that I would prefer to observe them," Ansem murmured thoughtfully. He tugged at the sleeves of his lab coat. "After all, we have that theory to follow up on, don't we? About Sora's repressed homosexual tendencies."
Dilan made a rude sound but had no comment on that. Even said for him, "You suspect that Axel has attracted Sora's interest... in a sexual sense?"
"I've noticed, this last day or two, that Sora can frequently be found glancing at Axel without reason, and becomes stiff and uncomfortable when interacting with him directly." Although hardly a scientific diagnosis, these things were enough out of character for Sora to be notable, or so Ansem felt. He was quite pleased with his theory, really. "Wouldn't it fit into his psychological profile?"
"We should all be down on our knees thanking God that they could never reproduce," Dilan said dryly, but he seemed to be pondering the matter. "It would fit into the pattern of his decline in behavior..."
Ansem shrugged, and tried aloud, "So, Sora. What does Roxas think of your new friend Axel?"
Yes. That sounded like an excellent tactic.
Also, ladycrysiana has written this lovely drabble about Riku's mother.
Some days, she thinks that it's worry for her son that keeps her going. His father is not, of course, a bad person. Ansem works to help people, to fix them and make them better. He is not a bad person. But she despairs for him as a father.
She thinks - has thought for a long time - that Ansem can take people apart, can see through them, but can't really see them. She wishes sometimes that he could be less like a doctor and more like a person. It makes her feel guilty, thinking that way, when he's concerned that she's been in pain again, that the ache hasn't gone away, that nothing seems to be working. It's not that he doesn't notice things, just that he doesn't connect with those things; they aren't real and immediate to him, and that's why she worries about her child. It isn't that his father won't love him, or take care of him, but Ansem will not pay attention, and Riku deserves all the attention that anyone could lavish on him.
And she will not be able to do it. She's running out of time, even if she's not sure that Ansem has noticed this is so. She can feel it, and so she spends all the time she can with her son, hoping it will make up for the time she cannot be there. She doesn't want him to be lonely, or to not see people, the way his father tends to do. She remembers what she said to Ansem, once, even if she didn't think he was listening. Personal is not the same thing as important, but that doesn't mean that personal doesn't matter. She tells this to her son, too. Maybe he'll remember.
.institution thirteen: 4.
The fact that anything had changed between them was Sora's little secret. They laughed together, same as before, and they threw frisbees around and raced, same as before. It was a week just like any other.
And, same as before, Riku would glance at him sidelong when he thought it wouldn't be noticed. He flushed sometimes, high in his cheeks and around his ears and nearly hidden in the fall of his hair. He was reluctant to step away, to break friendly handshakes and impulsive hugs.
The thing that had changed was that now Sora was looking for those things, and slowly, he started to see them.
"I told you he wanted you," Roxas said smugly.
No, that's not what you said. Sora watched Riku thoughtfully as the older boy toyed with his skateboard between his hands.
"Is it weird, having a psychiatrist for a father?" he asked. "I mean. If he's anything at the dinner table like he is in his office..."
Riku grinned a bit. "He's not that bad. But -- yeah, it's weird. I mean, Dad's really smart, and you can't bluff or lie to him. But he's always busy, and he's just so bad at being a normal dad. Like, if I come home bloody and bruised, he wouldn't even look up, he'd just remind me where the bandages are. He wouldn't bother to ask because he thinks he already knows."
"Jackass," Roxas said, but Sora thought back to the way Ansem had talked about his son the other day, kind and hopeful. He'd wanted, really wanted, for him to have a close friend he was comfortable with. I bet he doesn't neglect Riku on purpose. He wants him to be happy. Sora joked lightly, "That's totally weird. He can't stop asking me questions -- especially ones he thinks he already knows the answer to."
That startled a laugh out of Riku. "Yeah? Maybe he likes you more." Riku smiled at him, a warm smile that made his eyes almost seem to sparkle. "I bet if I got myself committed, he'd pay a lot of attention to me."
"Yeah, at exactly two in the afternoon every Monday and Thursday."
They both laughed, but Roxas said quietly, "He thinks he already knows what's up with us, too." Sora let his laughter die out, but he still smiled. The blond tucked his head briefly against Sora's shoulder. "...what about his mother?"
"Oh yeah," Sora said, thoughtful. Riku darted him a quick, uncertain look. "What about your mom? She must be pretty cool to put up with him, right?"
Long-fingered hands rubbed around the edges of the skateboard. "She was pretty cool, as I remember. She died when I was seven, though, so it's not all that clear."
"Seven?" said Roxas, but Sora didn't hear him, stuttering an apologetic, "Wow, I didn't know. Sorry to bring it up."
Riku glanced at him sidelong. "I don't mind... telling you about it. It was a long time ago."
Maybe he was just hearing that subtle emphasis on "you". Telling you about it. Roxas nudged him in the ribs, so he had to smile.
"Well, let me tell you about my family. My dad's kind of a nut too, only the kind who used to be on the football team, you know...?"
* * *
He was about to turn the corner when someone grabbed him by the collar and yanked. Sora squawked and flailed, nearly bit Roxas' hand when he slapped it over his mouth, and then sighed, staring sadly down at his popsicle all over the tiled floor.
"Whurm ee ooin?" he asked mournfully, hanging limply in Roxas' grip. Mulan'd even been on her good personality long enough to share her dessert and now the other one was going to say that Sora didn’t like her enough to eat her popsicle.
Roxas kicked him in the ankle. "Shut up," he hissed. "They'll hear you." Sora tried to open his mouth again to ask who and froze as a lazy, low voice filtered to his ears.
"How's the patrol, sir?"
It was the most disrespectful sir that Braig had ever heard, which was how he knew it was Axel. He put his hands on his hips (which meant conveniently over his gun) and turned to face the redhead, who was leaning against the wall and smirking. Braig smirked back. Punk.
Around the corner, Roxas finally dropped Sora into a sad little heap on the ground and edged closer to the end of the wall.
"Your cute stunt the other day got me in some trouble with the boss," Braig drawled. The 'trouble' had actually mostly been mutual complaints about Axel, and a sad 'maybe we should just replace your patrol with a 24/7 fire hazard watch?' from Ansem, but Axel didn't have to know that.
The small smirk on Roxas' face was the kind that made Sora want to hide in bed with the pillow over his head until the zombie or mutant iguana or whatever monster from the horror movie of the week stopped eating all the townspeople.
"Think it'll be a seven?"
Sora sighed, wobbling to his feet and pressing himself against Roxas to try to get a view of the speakers. Roxas sounded entirely too gleeful.
"You're the one who's good at grading this stuff, not me," he answered.
Axel shrugged. "Well, you don't have to worry about that anymore. Icehead says I don't get to have matches until I get my clean bill of health, which, at my current rate of rehabilitation, will be never." He shoved himself off the wall and grinned like a wolf. "So, with that established. I don't suppose you're interested in sharing your new patrol routes with me?"
Braig snorted and grinned back. "Boy, you are six kinds of trouble."
The redhead blinked slowly. "Only six?"
Braig shook his head, brushing by Axel and turning the corner with a little mock salute at the two boys as he passed.
Roxas grinned, muffling his laughter against Sora's neck, and gasped out "eight." Sora didn’t miss the way the light was gleaming in his eyes as he watched Axel walk away, smirking.
* * *
"Ah, Sora! Just who I wanted to see."
He turned his head back, removing the popsicle from his mouth. It had taken him almost an hour to get another one, arguing with Elaeus about his sugar intake, and he wasn't risking another accident. Dr. Ansem trotted over to him, waving as if thinking Sora might have missed him. The blond man was breathing a bit hard. Sora wondered if something had happened, or if he had a favor to ask. Roxas muttered something unintelligible around his own popsicle, but Sora could guess.
"What's up?" The brunet stretched his arms up, folding his hands behind his head.
"Tell him we already had a pointless session with him this morning," Roxas sneered. Sora ignored him.
Ansem drew to a halt a few steps away, flashed him a rueful grin, and then ducked his head for a moment to catch his breath. "I trust you're well?" he asked, head down.
"Sure."
"And how are you doing, Roxas?"
The blond bristled, and Sora sympathized. Nothing is more condescending than someone who thinks you're crazy pretending to believe in the voices in your head to make you feel better.
"Tell him I suddenly feel nauseous."
"He's being a brat," Sora reported, and took a careful step back as Roxas glared at him.
Ansem chuckled. "I wish I could say I was surprised." He grinned, to show he was teasing if Sora was correct, but that didn't stop Roxas from making an indignant sound. "There were a few things, actually -- first, I just wanted to make sure you were aware -- a little rule of ours." The doctor brushed back his hair. "Axel isn't allowed to have matches."
That bit of perfect obviousness had Sora blinking a bit, confused, and behind him Roxas relented in his irritation enough to snicker. "I was there when he set fire to the curtains," he reminded. That had been a week ago and the new hangings still hadn't arrived.
"Well, of course you were, we discussed that at the time. However, just knowing that someone presents a fire hazard and understanding that it's very important that this person not be allowed incendiary materials is another thing," Ansem said, sagely.
Roxas asked the popsicle in his hand, "Is there a situation where someone sets things on fire, and then nobody cares whether or not he's still got matches?"
Personally, Sora agreed with Ansem, and felt that it was definitely a good idea to take extra lengths to make sure that his institution didn't burn down. But he'd learned to be suspicious of the motives of doctors in doing anything. He asked, "Why... why are you telling me, though?"
"Oh, it's not just you," the doctor hastened to inform him. "It's pretty common practice after he manages to get one -- we remind everyone that providing him with matches or assisting him in his mischief is a huge setback to his therapy, and will be punished when it's discovered."
Roxas hummed around his popsicle and said nothing about that. Sora said, "Well, you can consider the message received. If that's all you wanted..." Everyone, huh? Maybe Roxas was teaching him properly after all, because suspicion was definitely rubbing off.
"Not at all. That's not the big news," the doctor said cheerfully. "Today we got a phone call from your friend Kairi."
Sora was the only one who heard Roxas's sharp intake of breath.
* *
Ansem stood where he was, watching Sora wend his way back into the lounge. After a beat, Dilan stepped up beside him, stern features interested. Even was hovering along the wall behind them.
"It would appear that you were correct in your hypothesis," Even mused, and Dilan agreed, "There does seem to be some sort of tangible connection between Sora and the bastard pyro."
Not being quite as bitter as some of his colleagues, Ansem was perfectly capable of enjoying Axel as a person and still wanting to strangle him for his antics, but he was accustomed to the way the other senior staff talked about the redheaded teen. He'd long ago given up any attempts at getting them to moderate their talk -- for others, perhaps, but Axel's reputation amongst them was a lost cause. Instead he said mildly, "Axel attracts a lot of attention from the more cognizant headcases. It seemed like a logical conclusion when they started interacting."
"Unhealthy attention," Even observed distastefully.
"What, Saix? As long as he stays on his medication there shouldn't be any repetition of the incident from before."
Dilan scowled. "I still find it difficult to believe that Axel wasn't at least partially at fault for what happened."
Ansem reminded him, "You know the way these things work. If the patient is off medication, no one needs to ask any further." Privately he had his own doubts, but parents did not want to hear that when their offspring was in pain. (Even parents who should have known better, such as Axel's.)
"We are, however, talking about Sora's case at the moment." Even tapped a pale finger against bloodless lips, his eyes screwed closed in concentration. "We could take steps to prevent them from coming into contact. We can all agree that Sora becoming influenced by Axel's behavior would be a nightmare."
"I think that I would prefer to observe them," Ansem murmured thoughtfully. He tugged at the sleeves of his lab coat. "After all, we have that theory to follow up on, don't we? About Sora's repressed homosexual tendencies."
Dilan made a rude sound but had no comment on that. Even said for him, "You suspect that Axel has attracted Sora's interest... in a sexual sense?"
"I've noticed, this last day or two, that Sora can frequently be found glancing at Axel without reason, and becomes stiff and uncomfortable when interacting with him directly." Although hardly a scientific diagnosis, these things were enough out of character for Sora to be notable, or so Ansem felt. He was quite pleased with his theory, really. "Wouldn't it fit into his psychological profile?"
"We should all be down on our knees thanking God that they could never reproduce," Dilan said dryly, but he seemed to be pondering the matter. "It would fit into the pattern of his decline in behavior..."
Ansem shrugged, and tried aloud, "So, Sora. What does Roxas think of your new friend Axel?"
Yes. That sounded like an excellent tactic.
Also, ladycrysiana has written this lovely drabble about Riku's mother.
Some days, she thinks that it's worry for her son that keeps her going. His father is not, of course, a bad person. Ansem works to help people, to fix them and make them better. He is not a bad person. But she despairs for him as a father.
She thinks - has thought for a long time - that Ansem can take people apart, can see through them, but can't really see them. She wishes sometimes that he could be less like a doctor and more like a person. It makes her feel guilty, thinking that way, when he's concerned that she's been in pain again, that the ache hasn't gone away, that nothing seems to be working. It's not that he doesn't notice things, just that he doesn't connect with those things; they aren't real and immediate to him, and that's why she worries about her child. It isn't that his father won't love him, or take care of him, but Ansem will not pay attention, and Riku deserves all the attention that anyone could lavish on him.
And she will not be able to do it. She's running out of time, even if she's not sure that Ansem has noticed this is so. She can feel it, and so she spends all the time she can with her son, hoping it will make up for the time she cannot be there. She doesn't want him to be lonely, or to not see people, the way his father tends to do. She remembers what she said to Ansem, once, even if she didn't think he was listening. Personal is not the same thing as important, but that doesn't mean that personal doesn't matter. She tells this to her son, too. Maybe he'll remember.