Work Text:
The phone call that day was something he’d never expect, or want, to get.
Roxas was at work at the time - or his form of work, anyway; sitting at a computer, editing the photos he’d taken earlier on in the day. A mug of tea sat beside him, steam billowing into the air. The digital pen he used for smaller details hung between his fingers, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. He almost missed the call, too deep in concentration to notice it was ringing.
No caller ID. Strange.
Roxas answered it with a “Hello,” biting his lip. He’d liked the photo before, but looking at it with a different set of eyes, something just felt… off. Maybe if he’d-
“Axel’s been involved in an accident.”
The sentence caused his phone—and his pen—to fall from his grasp. What? Hastily he picked up his phone, glad it hadn’t fallen into his tea in his panic. His breath was rushed when he answered, the somber tone of Axel’s close friend, Demyx, setting off alarm bells in his mind. The ever-chipper man never sounded sad, or on edge. Now pain seemed to be radiating from his voice.
“Is he okay?”
“I don’t know. It’s serious, Roxas. I’m at the hospital right now but they won’t let me see him.”
“Oh. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Right, where are you?” He was shaking, shaking bad. Axel… He had to be okay, he just had to be. He wasn’t just his roommate, wasn't just his friend. He was Roxas’ rock, they were… inseparable. Had been ever since they met in college.
“St. Anne’s. Fifth ward. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”
“Okay. I’ll be there soon.”
The line went dead, though Roxas didn’t stick around to hear it. He was in his car and shooting down the motorway within minutes.
-
Roxas didn’t make it in time.
He arrived to the ward, people dotted around in chairs as they waited for news. Where he was… it wasn’t just for accidents. It was for people barely hanging on. No families sat about, children weren’t crying and kicking up a fuss. The walls weren’t full of posters or bulletins. It was white, and scarce, and empty.
Roxas’ gaze found Demyx, head in hands, body racking with sobs. He couldn’t see his expression, or his face, but the scene gave it all away. Someone next to Demyx, their hand on his back, looked up at Roxas with a devastating expression. He didn’t care about anything else around him in that moment. Everything collapsed like puzzle pieces, scattering to the floor, his senses slipping away one by one. Roxas’ legs crumpled and his knees hit the polished flooring. It- It couldn’t be real. Couldn’t be. Axel was a fighter, he never let anything or anyone touch him. Especially not death. Not this.
Not this.
Arms wrapped around his frame as he sobbed, tears leaking from his eyes one by one but never ceased. “What—“ he sniffed, “What happened?”
Demyx was beside him. God, he looked like shit. Roxas probably looked the same. “Car accident. Axel was going a bit too fast, the other driver wasn’t paying attention…” Demyx looked like he was barely holding it together. His lip wobbled, Roxas’ gaze moving down to the motion. When Demyx noticed, he raised a hand to wipe at his lips, conceal the slip of emotion, averting his eyes away. His eyes themseleves were glassy, red from tears both shed and unshed. “He didn’t make it, Roxas.”
Roxas knew. It didn’t make the physical pain lessen when he heard the words, the confirmation, though.
It felt like he was dreaming. He wanted to pinch his skin a million times over so he’d wake up from the terrible nightmare he was stuck in. Roxas hoped he would wake in a sweat and knock on Axel’s door. The man would be annoyed, of course, but that would change once he saw Roxas’ face. Roxas would melt into Axel’s arms, let his tears fall and they’d talk; Axel reassuring him that he was fine and alive and that it had all been a ridiculous dream, until the sun rose, until Roxas felt his eyes slipping shut while they sat on the couch.
Maybe they’d nap together. Roxas falling asleep to the rise and fall of Axel’s chest, his heartbeat a soft lullaby to his ears.
The pinching didn’t work. Not even when he drew blood, not even when Demyx noticed and moved his hand away. Roxas just stared into space, still kneeling on the floor, sinking into the embrace of the man beside him. He was barely keeping it together as it was.
“I’ll let Reno deal with the paperwork. Let’s get you home,” Demyx said.
-
Walking back into the house felt more alienating than usual.
He’d often spend his days alone, returning to a silent house while Axel was off working at his bookshop. They’d talked about getting a dog, once. Roxas wanted a large, fluffy dog, like the one he had when he was younger. Axel was favoured toward a smaller, more manageable one. They’d never gotten further than that.
Now, it felt too empty. Too quiet. Knowing Axel wasn’t going to return, was never going to set foot in their home ever again… A fresh set of tears sprung to his eyes.
Roxas stopped a few steps inside. Demyx closed the door softly behind him, though remained silent. They both didn’t know what to say. They couldn’t fix a death, couldn’t replace the hole that Axel left.
Axel had always been a reserved man. Roxas knew that’s why he had loved to hide in books. You’d easily lose him in a crowd if it wasn’t for his hair. Axel had never lit up a room, nor had Roxas noticed when Axel had been home, half the time. Despite that, it felt like the life had been sucked out from the very walls. What had made it his home was gone. Now it just felt like someone else’s place.
Pieces of Axel resided everywhere. His gaming system proudly hooked up to the tv. Dozens of shitty magnets covered the fridge - he loved collecting them, even at Roxas’ insistence that they had enough already. The door to Axel’s room was open, and he found himself gravitating towards it and stepping inside.
It looked the same as it always had. The bed was sloppily made, pillows strewn about. Books towered over his nightstand, some of them tattered from being read so many times. Hairbands sat on his desk, alongside a few hair products.
All around his mirror sat Roxas’ photos. He knew, of course, and had always found it endearing. Roxas never quite understood why Axel insisted on having copies after copies, hanging them up like it had been his own personal feat.
Axel would never see any of Roxas’ photos again. Roxas sniffed, his hand resting on the desk. He’d never get to savour his support, or his kindness ever again. Never get to listen to another passionate rant about the new series Axel had picked up.
Roxas crumpled to the floor, a whine escaping his chest. The room would never be lived in like it was before. Not by Axel. Roxas would never hear his laugh again, even if it had always been too loud. He remembered getting irritated at Axel for things that, in retrospect, were so completely stupid and mundane. In truth, Roxas never really had gotten properly upset with Axel. It had only ever been in jest; he had just enjoyed the teasing; had enjoyed Axel’s little touches and tickles whenever they fake argued. Axel was Axel, and Roxas loved him for all those little annoying habits and quirks.
Demyx’s hand rested on his shoulder. He looked through blurry eyes, tears escaping yet again. The other male’s face was crumpled, too. Barely holding on.
“I know. It hurts.”
Roxas nodded. “I don’t think it’s settled in yet that he’s really gone.”
“It won’t. Not for a while.”
“How could it,” Roxas laughed bitterly, turning in place. “He’s everywhere. Axel made his mark, as much as he despised standing out.”
A smile. Roxas could tell it was forced. “He’d secretly like to know that, I think. Rather than just being wiped away.”
A sob escaped Roxas’ chest. He couldn’t hold it in, couldn’t contain the tightness in his lungs. It burned, the feelings lit his very breath on fire, promising to be too much the longer he held on.
-
Roxas barely moved from his bed. Roxas didn’t feel the need to, apart from an occasional trip to the toilet and to eat when his stomach grew desperate.
Demyx called. Daily. Roxas didn’t understand why, not when he was in just as much pain too. He never sounded sad. Nor cried on the phone. No emotion radiated at all, which was worse. Demyx sounded numb.
The morning of Axel’s funeral, eight days after the accident, had Roxas unable to move. Multiple times he thought about getting up. Going, even if he’d be a mess the whole time. But his body felt like it was being tied down by rocks, his mind screaming to do nothing but waste away where he lay.
The thought of going there, to the cemetery, seeing them lower his coffin into the ground… The image made him sob and shake, burying his head into the nearest pillow as he screamed. Demyx knew he wouldn’t be able to make the funeral. Roxas wasn’t resilient like that. He hid away when he was in pain, or upset. Ironically Axel was the one who urged him to get out of his desolate hole for a change of scenery.
He could almost hear him now. ‘ You know I wouldn’t like you doing this. Don’t waste away because of me.’
There was no point, Roxas thought. No point to make the effort.
He pulled the covers over his head, blocking out any of the light. It was gone now. His… light, his Axel , was gone.
-
A few weeks after the funeral Demyx began to turn up at the apartment. It was minor visits, at first. Just to check if Roxas had eaten and showered, to clean up the apartment. It brought up annoyance, threatening to spill from Roxas’ lungs every time he replied to Demyx’s ‘ Have you eaten?’ ‘Do you want me to fix you up anything?’ ‘It’s not good to go the whole day without a meal, Roxas…’ He understood. Demyx cared, Demyx knew about his past habits from Axel. It became a mantra that Roxas both spoke and thought, though. He wasn’t like that any more. It was different, he was mourning. He was allowed to have disjointed eating habits for a while. That didn’t mean he was relapsing.
Then Demyx began to box up Axel’s things, much to Roxas’ chagrin. Roxas had blown up a few times at that. Seeing Axel’s various knick knacks and favourite books packed away into boxes, leaving the space behind, bare… Reinforced the idea that Axel was never coming back.
Roxas would never admit to sleeping in Axel’s bed when the nights got hard. Wouldn’t say that he wrapped himself up in Axel’s old t-shirts, trying to grasp at any familiarity that he missed so much. The majority of Axel’s wardrobe became Roxas’ after a while. It would be the only thing that would spur him to get up in the day. The only thing that would give him the motivation he needed to go out and take pictures like he used to. Even if they were nothing special, not any more. Slowly, but surely, it began to smell less and less of Axel, elevating Roxas’ desperation.
Roxas knew he had to do something instead of hiding away from the world, but nothing worked. Every time he looked at his bank account he cringed at the dent in his savings. He didn’t want to be tied to a part-time job that would most likely follow him for years to come. He’d gotten out of that while he could. Roxas had enough saved away for a rainy day from his various projects beforehand to last him a few months, but the money was dwindling and Demyx saw that too.
So one day, without a word, Demyx just… began to stay over. He bought groceries, and cleaned up after Roxas when he felt he couldn’t. Demyx assured him that his boyfriend didn’t mind, even if Roxas hadn’t met the guy before.
Roxas didn’t raise any more questions about it. Nor did he say anything when Demyx seemed to officially move in; a weight lifting off Roxas’ shoulders.
Demyx became painfully hesitant, especially when it came to venturing into Roxas’ room to give him food and such. It wasn’t because his room was a mess, no; he kept on top of that, as he did everything else. That was the worst part. Roxas couldn’t say he was lying in bed all day in his own filth, too deep in depression to live. No, he was just painfully aware of Axel’s absence, torn between surrounding himself with the deceased male’s things and ridding himself of them forever. Every reminder was a stab to the chest, yet the thought of removing what he had left of Axel… that hurt a million times more than he thought possible.
Demyx was hesitant because Roxas had withdrawn into himself prior. A few years prior, when Axel and Roxas had only just met, the blonde was struggling with an eating disorder, one that nearly claimed his life. Axel helped him, supported him, didn’t yell at him when he’d go a day without eating - sometimes on accident, out of habit. Axel wouldn’t force Roxas to eat more or give him guilt at the things he was eating. Slowly, yet surely, Roxas stopped feeling so much guilt too.
He wasn’t relapsing. It would be easy to, of course, and maybe an odd day or two he actually did forget to eat. The thought of Axel urged him to eat when he was noticeably hungry, rather than starve the pain into something worse. He wouldn’t want to disappoint him.
-
It was a bleak day, rain falling against the window, Roxas looking up into the grey skies outside, when Demyx came into the room, an envelope in his hand. “I found something while I was packing up Axel’s things.” Roxas couldn’t hide the wince at those words, nor the sting to his heart. How long had it been, now? Months? A year? The passing of time was something Roxas just didn’t notice anymore. “It’s addressed to you.”
Roxas raised an eyebrow. “Me?”
Demyx, hesitantly walking across Roxas’ room towards him, handed over the envelope. Roxas took the envelope in his hand, feeling the weight almost instantly. It was thick, and tattered, looking like it had been stuffed to the brim. His name was scrawled in scruffy letters, unmistakably in Axel’s writing. He felt a lump begin to form in his throat at the sight.
“Thanks,” his voice was hoarse, catching in his throat. He then added, to give himself a bit of privacy, “I’ll be out for lunch in a bit.”
Demyx’s face brightened at that. “Alright.” He left.
Roxas remained, still holding the envelope, a mix of anticipation and doubt running through his veins. Did he want to know what was inside?
Curiosity won against him and he turned it over, noticing it was open. Everything about it screamed that it was never going to be sent, and Roxas felt that he was invading Axel’s privacy somehow, whatever was inside something personal . But he was gone, and what was in his hands may be the last time he’d ever hear from Axel again, even if it was written in the past.
So he pulled out what was inside, noticing it was full of paper, each folded neatly and looked like they’d never been touched. Glancing at the top of a few, he noticed, they beheld a date, like… they were letters, letters that had never been sent.
Roxas,
He began to read the first one, biting his lip.
These letters will never reach you. I’m sure they won’t, because I’m a coward. That’s the bottom line, here. I’m a coward and I’m writing down what I want to say because saying it out loud is scary and I’ve never been good with speaking my feelings.
I sound like a teenage girl here. Even more of a reason for me to keep these away from sight. Maybe burn them. I’ve been told writing is therapeutic, so I thought I’d give it a go.
It’s hard to speak about this. I’m hopeless, even when I’m writing to myself.
The first time I met you, you didn’t notice me. Not at all. I saw you talking to a librarian at the college, a large grin on your face. Something she said made you laugh, and I melted at the sound. Your smile was infectious. I found myself noticing you more often, though I stuck to the shadows. Despite my looks, I’m never one to stand out. I like to stay hidden, and that works. I saw your radiance from afar, saw you infect the world with absolute positivity wherever you went.
You noticed me three months after I first saw you. The only things I knew about you was that your name was Roxas; you loved mint ice cream, despite all of your friends hating it, and you absolutely despised pineapple on pizza. I was one of those that liked it, of course.
I didn’t follow you around, I swear. I usually spent lunch in the library, and you made a habit of taking your discussions there above anywhere else. Nothing philosophical; the majority of the time it was trivial. I couldn’t help but listen sometimes, when the day dragged on. The librarian would always chew you out, yet you kept coming back.
We also had a class together, History. I sat at the back, on my own. I found it easier to concentrate when nobody bothered me. You sat at the front next to a friend of yours, Hayner. You’d often have very insightful arguments about various points in time, and although I disliked the class, I’d often get a chuckle out of that.
Who knew you’d be so passionate about the little things. I’d only realise later on that you took that outlook with everything, something to this day I find endearing.
One day Hayner hadn’t turned up. Sick, or something. I found doodling on my page more interesting, and only begun to listen when the teacher assigned us partners for a project.
Great, I remember thinking. I’d probably get paired with one of the ditzy girls that weren’t interested in the class at all. Or the jocks that would suck the life out of me with their heteronormativity.
I wasn’t paying attention when the teacher spoke my name. I did look up when I saw you in front of my desk, that brilliant smile framing your face, an utter halo of beauty that made my breath catch in my throat.
You took my breath away that day. You still do.
Roxas got to the bottom of the letter to find wet spots dripping and soaking the bottom of the page. With a sob, Roxas realised that it was his own tears staining the page as they fell. The agony that ran through his veins lit up, the pain of how much he missed Axel, missed his words overcame him.
They’d danced around each other for years with nothing as close as a kiss, but Roxas had always held out hope, had slowly fallen for the man who captured his heart. If Roxas had only known, had only acted on it-
It was too little, too late.
All Roxas could do was continue to read, absorbing as much as possible from Axel’s words, from the man who he loved and was loved by in return. He had to live through the words, because knowing it was all something now completely out of his grasp hurt far too much.
He wiped at his eyes, taking a deep breath.
Roxas reached for the next letter.
-
Roxas awoke with a thudding twinge in his chest. He noticed, with a crinkle as he moved, the most recent letter beside himself; the one that was painful to read, painful to recount.
Axel had walked in on him when he’d been checking his weight on the scale. He’d written about the ache he’d felt when he saw Roxas practically naked, flesh on bones, a terrified look on his face. That day was one Roxas would never forget, just from the sheer terror, disgust, hate. Roxas had thought he was even more unlovable when Axel saw him, then. The letter proved him wrong.
‘The smiles, the light in your eyes… Was it all fake? I don’t know any more. It hurt to see you in pain like that. To almost cower when you knew that I could see you. So frail, too fragile. Somehow not dead, even if you looked like you might as well be.’
It still hurt him to read.
He absentmindedly ran a finger alongside his ribcage. It no longer protruded like it used to, but he still reverted back to his nervous twitch sometimes. It used to bring him a sense of comfort back when he could feel the ridges of the bones, but now it was more a ghost of a touch.
Roxas could admit now he had been in too deep. That it had been wrong how he had felt, wrong how much he had hated himself for not being skinny enough when he had already been too skinny. Wasting away hadn’t ever been something he had wanted to attain. Back then he hadn’t realise any of that, though. Instead he had yelled at Axel once he opened the door, shutting himself out, not giving in. Not admitting. Axel hadn’t pushed.
It had been one night, when he had passed out because of what he had been doing to himself, that he had frozen at the worry in Axel’s eyes once he had awoken again. The other man had red rimmed eyes, and it had dawned on Roxas then that something had been seriously wrong. It had heralded the first step in the right direction, even if it had been a baby step.
Axel had insisted he got checked out by a doctor. Roxas, still disoriented, didn’t argue. When they had finally reached the car park of the hospital Roxas had grabbed Axel’s arm, his limbs shaking.
“Please don’t make me do this.” His wobbly voice had spoke. “I’m not ready.”
“Okay.” Was the only word Axel had said. He then had begun to drive back home.
The months following, Axel had shown Roxas more care than he had ever known in his entire life. Yet the minute the gentle encouragements had become too much, and he had voiced it, Axel had backed off.
“I never want to see you in pain again, so I’m going to do my best to make you feel better again.”
Maybe Axel had fallen for Roxas when he had seen him in classes, the shyness keeping him at bay, but it had been the pure kindness that Axel demonstrated which had caused Roxas’ feelings to erupt. It had begun slowly, a tinge of a blush on his cheeks at various comments, an unnoticed smile when Axel had cooked him his favourite meals. Small portions… He had never pushed when Roxas hadn’t eat more than a few bites.
“Don’t answer this if you don’t want to,” Axel begun, “But… why?”
It had been months since he found out. Roxas, sitting over a bowl of soup, averted his gaze. He thought before answering. “I don’t know anymore. Habits, mostly. I look at myself and see a work in progress, something that isn’t far from done.”
Roxas knew what Axel was thinking with the sad look that was directed at him. ‘Something that isn’t far from death.’ He knew, deep down. Even if he didn’t want to admit it.
It was when Roxas had found the courage to tell Axel he planned on going for therapy, wanting to help himself for once, and Axel had given him the most brilliant smile, the corners of his eyes watering… that the butterflies in Roxas’ stomach had amplified to a dizzying degree
Pain blossomed in his chest. Roxas missed him so goddamn much.
-
Roxas decided to take a few of the letters with him as he went to one of his favourite photography spots; a hilly place near the sea, an hour on the train from him. He hadn’t been since before Axel died… The last time he went, they’d visited together.
Demyx was surprised when Roxas said he was going, his first proper outing in a long time. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d ventured further than his home town, but it must have been longer than he thought, given Demyx’s reaction.
“I can come with you, if you want.” Demyx’s hands hovered over a mug of tea, an uncertain look to his face. “I don’t mind.”
Roxas shook his head. “I’ll be fine. It will be nice to go, actually. Get some new scenery, instead of the same old shit here. You know I haven’t sold anything in months now.”
“I know,” Demyx sighed. “You know… I worry, right?”
You make it all too clear, just like him. “I’m fine, Demyx. Seriously.” Roxas clutched his bag tighter. He hadn’t spoken about what was inside the envelope, not at all. “I’ll be back tonight. Don’t wait up for me.”
“Unlikely,” Demyx drawled. “Is it alright if Zexion comes over? I’ll kick him out when you’re back.”
Roxas frowned. “He can stay, you know I’m not bothered about your boyfriend. God knows it’s clear you two miss each other.”
“Yeah, but…” Demyx trailed off. “Have fun, yeah?”
“Will do.”
The hesitation in Demyx’s face, the bite of his lip, nervous eye contact; Roxas was getting used to it more as of late. It was Demyx’s decision to move in, to not live with his boyfriend anymore. His decision to ‘look out’ for Roxas. He himself was perfectly capable of functioning alone. Roxas had paid for the apartment all by himself before Axel had been kicked out of his house. Roxas had happily turned his solitude into their home after that time. Having Axel around had made paying for rent easier, but Roxas had been able to manage fine without Axel’s contribution. He felt sure that he would be fine again, even without Demyx there. Even if he was steadily running out of income.
Roxas loved Demyx for caring. But he didn’t need to be treated like a glass doll. Axel had hesitated, but he had never doubted Roxas. If Roxas said he was fine, then that had been that. Axel knew when he was telling the truth or not, even more so after he discovered Roxas’ habits.
Roxas pulled out another letter as he found his seat on the train. Propping his legs up under himself, he burrowed himself further into his jacket, settling down to read.
‘I know the signs, now. I notice when you begin to pick at your food, break it apart, feigning the look of a half-eaten dinner with only a few bites. Avoiding the fat of a meal. Opting for low calorie options.
It was all there, yet I couldn’t see it.
It hurts to think of how you must have been struggling. Do you not like yourself? I often wonder why it is you do it, but that’s something that you, yourself, deal with. I hope you trust me enough to tell me one day. Maybe there is no reason.
I think that possibility is worse. I hate to think of you starving yourself, limiting yourself, for no reason other than a disorder. It’s not the fact that it’s any less valid, more… How trapped you must feel, spiralling into a deep hole because your brain isn’t functioning as well as most people.
When I see you lying there on your bad days all I want to do is hug you. Pull you in my arms and tell you everything is going to be okay. It might not be, because I can’t promise anything, but I want to anyway. I fell for you hard, Roxas. So fucking hard. I’d do anything just to make you happy, but this isn’t something I can just fix. All I can do is support you.
I’m glad you’ve opened yourself up to me more. You don’t plaster a smile on your face because you think it will please me. You carry your blanket to the sofa, sometimes, just to sit there silently. I appreciate small things like that. It’s your own way of telling me you trust me, I think. I like to believe you trust me.
We graduate college soon. I selfishly hope to keep you around afterwards. Despite your struggles, I see the glint in your eyes when you take your photos. Why do you think I have dozens plastered around my mirror? I have a feeling that one day, you’re going to turn to me with an anxious face, and shaky hands, and go; ‘Axel, I’m sorry, but I’m leaving. I’m going to study further abroad, and most likely get all of my pictures in art galleries across the world. I’ll also find a fit guy and shag him multiple times a day, all while overlooking the sea’, and I’d reply, ‘I could see it coming a mile away. Do invite me to your wedding, although I can’t promise I won’t steal the groom away.’
I want to confess to you. So badly. I want to just take you in my arms and kiss you. Never letting you go. Selfish, I know. But you’ll never see this, so I can be as selfish as I want.
In an ideal world I’d take you to the fanciest restaurant in town. You could have whatever you’d like, though we’d most likely share to avoid you getting embarrassed in case you didn’t feel like eating much. I’d reserve a room in the hotel over the cliffs, nothing but the sea as our view. We’d take a walk down the beach after eating, even though it’s one of those crappy ones filled with nothing but pebbles. We’d struggle walking along it, and I’d carry you bridal-style across when you complained about your feet. You’d scream and shout, though giggling all the same. Despite your pretenses I know you’d like it, deep down. The giggling would die down, and I’d set you down on the grass. Nobody would be around, the moon enough light to adorn your face with a glow.
I’d tell you I loved you. That I had since I saw you in the libarary, as stupid as it sounds. You’d get upset, not believing me. You told me once, that you disliked everything about yourself. Nothing would make me dislike any part of you. I’d tell you that over and over, and you’d cry happy tears. We’d go back to the hotel room and, after hours of talking, we’d settle in the bed.
You’d be reserved. You wouldn’t need to be. ‘I love every part of you,’ I’d murmur. I’d speak it across every inch of your skin, multiple times a day, until you believed me. I’d never give up on you, no matter how dark your mind became. I agreed to be there through the good and the bad, and I wasn’t going to back out on that now.
I’d follow you across the world if I had to. Anything to make you happy.
But I’m too shy, and you’re just out of my reach. I keep telling you I’m a coward.’
Roxas clutched the letter to his chest, careful not to tear the page. He looked out the window at the passing trees and houses dotting the countryside.
In an ideal world… Roxas would like that.
-
It was just as he remembered.
The majority of the cottages there were old, owned by families that had passed them down. His grandparents had lived here back when he was young, and he’d always enthuse about going to see them to explore the vast hills and forests, trails leading to forgotten roads and caves housing bats.
The sunrise was beautiful at the overlook above the hill. It was his favourite thing to photograph, even if he didn’t visit often. Somehow every picture looked unique, every visit stunning. It never got old, and Roxas hoped it stayed that way.
His grandparents were long gone now. Roxas’ parents sold the house, the location a goldmine. Nobody sold, the vast lands kept by the owners. It was untouched, exactly as it should be. His grandpa was the one who showed him how to use a camera; it was him which gave Roxas the passion to take pictures of everything he could.
He liked to take pictures of Axel. Doing… anything, really. He had a shoebox stashed underneath his bed, filled with pictures both candid and expected. His own private stash. One of his favourites was one of Axel at the same spot he was heading to now. The wind had picked up, Axel’s hair pulled into a loose bun. Strands swayed in the wind, the glow of the horizon spreading across the skyline. The angle of the camera had mainly showed Axel’s silhouette, half of his face, the peak of his curved lips. He had been deep in thought, not noticing Roxas’ camera was aimed at him until it was too late. The sun had surrounded him, basking him in an ethereal glow. Roxas always thought he was too pretty for the world, too gorgeous to be real, but now that thought felt bitter.
Roxas hadn’t touched those pictures since Axel died. The idea hurt too much, to see his face too soon. He couldn’t push him out of his mind, couldn’t forget, but the image of his face would reinforce exactly what he didn’t have anymore.
Roxas pulled out his camera as he began to walk. Any wildlife he could find he’d snap a quick picture of, taking the ascent of the hill to a slow pace. He had no rush.
There was a single trail which led to the peak of the hills, a dirt track extending for half a mile. Roxas could vividly remember that when he made the trek with Axel, the other man had made a fuss, complaining all the while.
“My God, Roxas, I’m going to waste away here.”
“You’re such a pussy. It’s just a little climb.”
“A little climb? No, you’re taking me to my death. This better be worth it.”
It had been. It always was. Roxas just wished they’d visited more than once in Axel’s pitifully short life. Wished they had another chance to sit at the top and sit in silence, basking in each other’s company. Roxas would never grow bored, he knew he wouldn’t.
The top of the hill was almost flat, covered like a cocoon by trees and foliage. Roxas liked to sit by the tree overlooking the cliff, leaning against the trunk, legs outstretched on the grass. It was left mostly untouched, rare visitors sometimes enjoying the views. As always, there wasn’t a soul wandering about. He took his place, taking a few shots of the area around him.
Roxas glanced to the tree beside him. AW + RB was carved into the rough wood, sloppily and lazily.
“Hey, Rox.” Axel hummed as he laid back on the grass. “We should make our mark here. Write our names like old timey lovebirds.”
“Lovebirds?”
Axel was already sitting up, pulling a switchblade from his pocket. Carefully he began to carve, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. Roxas turned, camera momentarily forgotten. He smiled softly, watching as the other man worked in concentration. Axel had chosen his favourite tree, something they’d return to again, one day.
He raised his camera, looking into the lens and took a photo.
What was cut had turned a yellowish brown, like it was wilting from age. It was there; it was permanent, and as long as the tree stood, it would live on beyond both of their years. It brought a heartwarming feeling to Roxas’ chest.
Despite the aching feel of constant reminders, it made Roxas feel happy that Axel had left his whole self behind. In the little touches, accents of himself around their world. The carving in the tree, his favourite items around the house, the bookshop. Last he heard, Reno had taken over Axel’s haven. They’d come from a fairly wealthy family, the shop having been brought for him after working himself ragged at the family business for three years. He decided, against everyone’s surprise, to open his own bookshop. Pre-owned ones could be swapped freely, encouraged even. Axel’s quaint place became well known in their town, yet he could never bring himself to listen to the conversations around him when it was spoken about. It was Axel’s passion, nobody else’s. Whoever took over the place wouldn’t have such a personal attachment to it.
Especially not Reno. He went down a similar route, except he turned his into a garage.
Roxas hadn’t visited since Axel left. It was another reminder, another piece of Axel that felt too personal to return to. It would feel wrong, not having him beside him. Not popping up from behind the shelves as Roxas browsed, offering stupid puns at the titles that he picked up.
Not that Roxas really cared about reading. He just knew Axel had, and had liked to spend time with him as much as he could.
“You won’t like that. It’s too sappy.” Axel shook his head. “Too romantic.”
Roxas hummed. “How do you know I’m not secretly into romance books?”
“I see how you look at those romcom trailers that show before those superhero flicks sometimes. You look like you want to combust.”
“Only because it’s usually a douchebag guy playing the lead.”
“Touché. Can our first date be a Bridget Jones's Diary marathon?” Axel waggled his eyebrows. “Mark Darcy is not a douchebag, I can attest to that.”
“You’re such a nerd.” Roxas grinned. “And who says we’re having a date?”
All the ‘what ifs’ left a sour taste in his mouth. How many times had they almost gone that step further, so close to breaking the boundary of friendship for something they both clearly wanted?
Roxas wondered if everyone around them had noticed it. Noticed the teasing, the flirting, the closeness and eyes the two of them seemed to have shared only for each other. Demyx had never mentioned anything, not even now, but it would likely be too painful. Too much. The other man most likely wouldn’t want to bring up the topic of Axel unless he had to… which was never.
Demyx never let it slip when he was struggling. Ever. Axel’s name was like a swear word in the apartment, his name rarely directly spoken any more. Their apartment. It still felt like Axel’s, too, even after all the time he’d been gone.
Roxas shifted his gaze to the horizon, the sun beginning to set. Despite the next train being under the cover of darkness, Demyx insisting he be home before then... Roxas couldn’t miss it. Couldn’t miss the sight which now only reminded him of Axel, the soft features of his delicate face the only thing Roxas’ eyes were set on that evening. He’d bullshit some excuse when he got home, even if he had to catch the midnight train. Roxas just wanted to sit next to the sky and watch.
He basked in the silence, shifting to lay on the grass as the sky began to grow darker, shade by shade. He could count the stars as they began to show, twinkling against the dark backdrop of the night.
Axel had loved to stargaze. Once they’d ventured out into one of the parks near their house with nothing but a blanket and laid under the stars, a calm silence extending between the two. When Roxas had turned to look at Axel, he’d seen a pair of intense green eyes looking back. With a blush Axel had turned away, talking about constellations Roxas didn’t take in at all.
Axel used to stare quite a lot. Roxas never spoke about it, nor let on that he knew.
Axel had thought himself a coward, well—Roxas was just as bad, if not worse. Roxas saw all the signs, saw all the flirting… and carried on, hoping someday the gods of fate would deal them a hand. Clearly they’d done the opposite.
-
Slowly, over time, the letters dwindled to the last few left.
Roxas found himself getting desperate.
The words that hung onto his heart were still present, yet he’d be losing the last few parts of Axel’s self he had left. The last time he’d ever hear his words anew, the last time he’d read Axel’s sweet nothings and love he wished he’d professed.
The thought held heavy on Roxas’ heart, leaving the last letter untouched.
It sat on his desk, a glance given to it every day he’d wake up. Every time he’d return to his room later in the evening. A curiosity sat in his gut along with a heavy sense of dread. What would he do, once the last one was read and done? What was awaiting him?
The reasoning for the last letter- was it because Axel died, or because his ‘love’ for Roxas dwindled away? Did he find somebody else?
The thoughts and questions plagued him until finally, one day, he opened it with haste, not wanting to torture himself with things that would never be explained. Axel was gone, and the pain that came alongside the thought made his decision easier than he’d like. Roxas would take any part of Axel he could get, even if it meant his heart breaking all over again because he was well and truly gone.
‘It’s been a while since I last wrote one of these.’
It was dated… Only a week before he got into the accident. Roxas felt even more nervous at that.
‘I’m not sure there’s much left to say. You’re happier now. You seem to have more control over yourself and your demons. You have a steady income, doing what you love… I couldn’t be more proud.
I still can’t voice how I feel. Even with the looks that linger, I worry you don’t feel the way I do. That you’d see me differently if I told you how much I love you. That I have done for years, utterly hopelessly. The last thing I’d want to lose is your friendship.
I think I might go for it. Soon, most likely not. But sometime. I can’t keep thinking about it, over and over, wondering if you’d reciprocate my feelings or not. I can spend my life wondering, but that’s a life wasted. I don’t want to live the rest of my life in regret.
I want to take you to all the places I’ve mentioned in my letters. As a friend or more. Places I’ve been years ago, places that have captured my heart as I hope they do yours. Possibly one day, I’ll buy a ticket for you and we’ll just… go. I think I’d like that.
I’d like to give you a life you deserve. I’m always going to be afraid you’ll head down a dark path again, and I’ve gotten used to that. All I can do is trust you’ll keep yourself afloat. You’re strong like that. It’s one of the many things I love about you. You don’t realise your strength. How much you bring brilliance into people’s lives without trying.
I had a date this evening. I didn’t tell you and you didn’t ask. You were absorbed in your work, wishing me a good night as I slipped out of the door. I’m still trying to move on, I guess.
He was good looking. Friendly, funny. I just couldn’t stop comparing him to you. His hair was an off-colour blonde, not quite as sandy as yours, more leaning towards ginger. His eyes weren’t blue, weren’t as bright and didn’t sparkle like yours when you smiled. Unlike yours, his smile didn’t make me smile in turn too.
I don’t think I’ll see him again. It’s hopeless when I compare’
That was it. Roxas frowned, turning the page over but only seeing it blank. There was nothing new left in the envelope, nothing to say why, to continue-
That was it. Axel’s last letter was left unfinished. His last thought never continued, probably meant to return to but before he could he died-
Roxas sobbed, the tears beginning to slip through the cracks. Demyx was out, to which he was glad. He clutched the letter, crushing it slightly beneath his fingers. Yet again, he was left without Axel’s presence. The pieces of him he had left were gone. Not even a completed letter to finish it. Just like Axel’s life, it was cut painfully short.
He wiped at his eyes roughly, pulling the hood of Axel’s hoodie over his head, the sides further around him. Axel’s smell was gone, his presence lessening every day. It- It hurt, having Axel say all these things he wanted to do so his life wouldn’t be wasted in regret, yet it was. Plain as day. Everything Axel said he wanted to do was never done.
Roxas blinked, lifting his head up slightly. Axel’s unfinished business… Was attainable.
He grabbed the worn envelope and pulled out all of the letters, scattering them across his floor. Some were ripped in the process, blurry though the tears in his eyes. He grabbed them out of memory, scanning; ‘ Western Australia’, ‘Vietnam; they have lantern festivals, you’d love it’... Each one, alongside some scissors and tape, became a collage of things Axel always wanted to do, among the places he wanted to take Roxas. ‘I’d be terrified, of course, but I always wanted to do bungee jumping.’ He was breathing heavily, mind clouded, but it was something remaining, a way he could live on Axel’s life while he dealt with the unmistakable pain of loss.
The letters were mangled, strips of what Axel once wrote, ribbons covering the floor. ‘ I’ve been to Tokyo before. It’s so busy, so bustling. A bit much for me, but you’d love the shrines. They can be really romantic. If all fails, there’s one in Shimane that’s supposed to heal a broken heart. Not to be pessimistic or anything.’
The sound of the front door opening echoed through the apartment, returning some sense to Roxas. He blinked, looking up through the entryway to his room. Demyx was holding carrier bags, though he set them down when he saw Roxas, sitting on the floor, surrounded by words on paper that made no sense alone.
“I have to...” Roxas tested the words on his lips. “There’s… Yeah. There’s something I need to do.”
-
Roxas pulled his bag higher on his shoulder, looking upwards at the departure boards. He clutched a ticket in one hand; his camera hanging loosely from his neck. Nervousness set in, but he quickly quashed it down.
He wouldn’t be a coward any more. Roxas wouldn’t let the fear of the unknown stop him, not when that exact fear stopped him from confessing what he felt, accepting what Axel felt. Because Axel couldn’t live his life anymore, nor show Roxas those amazing places he wanted to go to… Roxas would go, and write his own letters to Axel. Letters that would free his thoughts, the ones he kept hidden away. He’d admit when he was feeling bad, tell Axel exactly what he wished he did all those years ago.
He’d take pictures of where he went, leading in the footsteps of Axel’s echoes. Admit that he lost what he loved, but that didn’t mean the love ended there. Neither did the pain of the memory, even if he had his mind set on continuing Axel’s life the best he could, giving him his own send off.
Once the locations ran out, alongside his money, Roxas would figure out what to do then. But for now, he’d live in the moment, live for Axel, live for himself.
With a heavy heart, he walked towards the counter, checking himself in for his flight.
No turning back, no second thoughts.