(no subject)
Challenge [292]: Elusive
Title: but hold me still
Word Count: 499
Notes: It's 8/13 and I've got a bucketload of feelings. What can you do? Minor spoilers for the first chunk of 3D.
Death is a lot like a boat drifting, which is just wonderful, because Axel's always gotten seasick.
It's also kind of cold and lonely and if he ever gets a next life, he's going to have to seriously consider keeping the stupid heroics to a minimum, because an eternity of this is going to be such a pain in the ass-a billion million eons of nothing but frustrating wisps of sound grazing by him, never fully realized, and the dull and shaded world around him, smudged and blurred like the view from a train window. A better man might find purgatory peaceful, would meditate on life, its nature, its failings. Axel'd take the fire and brimstone any day.
It's not 'til a few lifetimes of this (or hours, or seconds, because who's counting?) that he realizes he's chasing something. Every so often something-bright flickers across line of sight, and hey, isn't it weird that he still has one of those at all? Weird that he can feel himself being moved, being pulled by something he can't see? The anomaly isn't really anything with shape, or even color, just a crack in monochrome, and then it even stops being an anomaly because it keeps showing up.
He should probably classify it as an epiphany or a revelation or something, but it's not anything so dramatic. All of a sudden he just knows: he is following his heart, and it's doing a damn good job at outrunning him.
"That's playing dirty," he says, not to his heart but to whoever is holding his heart-he can feel the fingers wrapped around it, the jerk and tug of them around the phantom pains in his chest, warm and calloused and just this side of familiar. Axel pushes on faster.
No clue why anybody'd want to steal his heart, anyway.
When the noises in his ears start to thread together it just makes it worse, because they still aren't words; just tones and inflections that are so close so comprehensible it makes Axel want to scream. He knows that voice, just like he knows the hands around his heart, like the shock of blue that sparks up in front of him every so often, and if he could only figure out what it was trying to say-
The world stops blurring around him, and Axel jolts into stillness.
There's no reason for his heart to be cornflower blue, except that it is, and except so are the pair of eyes over top of it-the hands-the voice-
"I'm still waiting for you."
Axel's grin explodes like a firecracker, and he reaches out. "Yeah? Well, wait slower."
He wakes, and he is not Axel, and he wants, he asks for: "Roxas?"
His fingers are spread out on the floor, triangles of emptiness between them; he makes a fist so as to not see what they lack.
He is mostly still Axel where it counts, apparently, and Roxas isn't there. It figures.
Title: but hold me still
Word Count: 499
Notes: It's 8/13 and I've got a bucketload of feelings. What can you do? Minor spoilers for the first chunk of 3D.
Death is a lot like a boat drifting, which is just wonderful, because Axel's always gotten seasick.
It's also kind of cold and lonely and if he ever gets a next life, he's going to have to seriously consider keeping the stupid heroics to a minimum, because an eternity of this is going to be such a pain in the ass-a billion million eons of nothing but frustrating wisps of sound grazing by him, never fully realized, and the dull and shaded world around him, smudged and blurred like the view from a train window. A better man might find purgatory peaceful, would meditate on life, its nature, its failings. Axel'd take the fire and brimstone any day.
It's not 'til a few lifetimes of this (or hours, or seconds, because who's counting?) that he realizes he's chasing something. Every so often something-bright flickers across line of sight, and hey, isn't it weird that he still has one of those at all? Weird that he can feel himself being moved, being pulled by something he can't see? The anomaly isn't really anything with shape, or even color, just a crack in monochrome, and then it even stops being an anomaly because it keeps showing up.
He should probably classify it as an epiphany or a revelation or something, but it's not anything so dramatic. All of a sudden he just knows: he is following his heart, and it's doing a damn good job at outrunning him.
"That's playing dirty," he says, not to his heart but to whoever is holding his heart-he can feel the fingers wrapped around it, the jerk and tug of them around the phantom pains in his chest, warm and calloused and just this side of familiar. Axel pushes on faster.
No clue why anybody'd want to steal his heart, anyway.
When the noises in his ears start to thread together it just makes it worse, because they still aren't words; just tones and inflections that are so close so comprehensible it makes Axel want to scream. He knows that voice, just like he knows the hands around his heart, like the shock of blue that sparks up in front of him every so often, and if he could only figure out what it was trying to say-
The world stops blurring around him, and Axel jolts into stillness.
There's no reason for his heart to be cornflower blue, except that it is, and except so are the pair of eyes over top of it-the hands-the voice-
"I'm still waiting for you."
Axel's grin explodes like a firecracker, and he reaches out. "Yeah? Well, wait slower."
He wakes, and he is not Axel, and he wants, he asks for: "Roxas?"
His fingers are spread out on the floor, triangles of emptiness between them; he makes a fist so as to not see what they lack.
He is mostly still Axel where it counts, apparently, and Roxas isn't there. It figures.