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A mirrored wide-eyed stare, the slight jolt of the body, and a brief, unspoken “he looks like me!” — that’s all it was at the time. No time to talk, ask questions, any of the things he wanted to do. It hit Roxas like a brick in that moment — is this who people really meant when they said Roxas looked familiar? He never understood it then, didn’t question it much. He attributed it to his past life — to Sora, after he learned of his existence. But once that theory got debunked, the question still lingered and the answer was out there, snoozing away without a clue.
No longer does he have to wonder, and no longer does the answer sleep.
Since they’ve started seeing one another, Ventus doesn’t get the same backlash; maybe it’s his good nature that makes people less prone to tease him for his choice in significant others. Xion has more than once commented that Roxas must be arrogant to kiss his own face; Roxas always reddens and fires back a quick ‘shut up’ before huffily storming off.
Hasn’t even kissed him, anyway.
But he doesn’t feel arrogant, no — not when he gets to look at that gentle face smiling at him. Not right now as Ven tells him about his day, lights up the way he talks about his training, the giggles that bubble forth as he recounts his troubles in trying to teach Chirithy to play fetch. He’s backed by the sunset, yet Ven still manages to shine brighter. The light heightens the natural blush on his cheeks, makes his golden hair look ethereal. Ventus glows in such ways that takes the setting sun down a notch on Roxas’ list of favorite things to admire.
The first is this beautiful star before him.
“I think he got insulted when I tried to teach him that. But even when he’s mad, he’s really cute. Wish you could have seen him,” Ven chuckles, blissfully unaware of Roxas’ wandering mind. He smiles to himself before taking a bite of his ice cream. “What about you? Anything fun today?”
Roxas hums, conveniently taking a bite of his own ice cream to give him time to think. Does he tell Ven that shortly before meeting up with him, Axel was giving him shit about their relationship again? ‘Can’t get enough of yourself, Roxas?’ Sure, it’s all in jest, but hearing it from nearly everyone these days begins to grate on him.
Does it hurt Ven, too? Does Ven even want this like Roxas does?
Ven deserves so much better than shame. But he wouldn’t keep agreeing to these meet ups if he wasn’t enjoying it…
Right?
“Not really.” Not a lie. It wasn’t fun, after all. “This was all I was looking forward to today, honestly.”
“That’s cheesy of you to say.”
“I’m full of surprises,” Roxas chuckles, elbowing Ven lightly just so he can hear that cute little laugh again.
He’s so taken with him. Felt like it took damn near an eternity to see past what’s at face value — literally. It was hard at first. What do you say to the boy that shares your face — the boy that gave you your very appearance? Talking to Sora was different. They’ve had their moments, shared their conversations before.
Ventus was an entirely different ballpark.
Roxas never knew about him. Sure, he questioned his appearance being so different from Sora’s, but in clinging so desperately to something to separate Nobody and Somebody, he took it as a stroke of luck to have a face that was all his own. Until that day on the battlefield, he looked into a mirror and the mirror looked right back. It was a sinking, disgusting feeling. Short as his life had been at that point, to have one of the features that made Roxas Roxas ripped away from him in a fleeting second stung.
But Roxas looks at Ventus so differently now — notices every little detail that sets them apart. Ven is lighter, brighter; his hair swoops and spikes the same, but is a sweeter, more gentle shade of blond. His eyes are not simply blue, but a pale sky that reflects the stars he loves to gaze at. The sun brings out freckles across Ven’s nose when they go to the beach — and always leaves a hot red glaze across his pale shoulders at the end of the day.
“You’re not that complicated, Roxas,” Ven teases, drawing Roxas out of his thoughts. “You’ll really surprise me the day you buy another flavor of ice cream.”
“…What?” Roxas quirks a brow in Ven’s direction, genuinely surprised — or is he? “What do you mean another flavor?”
“Roxas!”
“Ventus!” He jests back, grinning ear to ear as he nips off a bite of that same old flavor. “I’m kidding!” (But seriously — what flavors are there other than sea salt?!)
Ven, unsuspecting that his boyfriend might actually be dumb, giggles along with him. It’s not the first time, nor even second or third, that Ven places his hand over Roxas’. And yet, he somehow makes everything feel like it’s the first.
The real first time he did it was the first time Roxas truly grasped how different they are, even down to a mundane thing like holding hands. It’s not a lot of details to wrap around — just that Ven’s hand is way less sweaty.
Or maybe Roxas was in a state of gay panic that day.
“Why’d you wanna meet so early for anyway?” Roxas finishes up his ice cream, holding out the popsicle stick against the sunlight and straining his eyes to look to see if he’s won himself a free round for next time. “Stars don’t come out until late around here, you know.”
“This is what you like best.”
Roxas quirks a brow at Ven’s statement as well as the disappointment of not being a winner today.
“You like the sunset best. So, I—“
“I like you best.”
Roxas is glad he turns his head to see Ven’s rosy cheeks, the way his eyes widen in surprise before closing as he beams and laughs and Roxas swears his heart has never beat this fast.
“You’re sweet. But let me finish, alright?” Ven waves his ice cream at Roxas in rhythm to his words, as if to scold him lightly. Roxas smirks and rolls his eyes, uttering a ‘yeah, yeah’ under his breath. “You like the sunset best. And we’ve gone stargazing plenty of times for me. I wanted to do something you’d like for once.”
“I do like stargazing.” What does it matter what color the sky is as long as they’re beneath it together? “But it’s like I told you already. I like you best.”
Ven chuckles, finishing off his popsicle before it melts away and Roxas never lets him hear the end of wasting the greatest food in all the worlds. “Even more than sea salt ice cream?”
“Don’t get crazy.”
Ven laughs, parting his lips with dried, sticky ice cream glistening in the remaining light of the setting sun. He’s really got no ice cream eating etiquette, does he? Oh, how badly does Roxas want to kiss that away…
“But yeah…even more than that.”
Quiet grows between them. Ven smiles to himself; Roxas idly twirls the popsicle stick between dextrous fingers, focusing on the blank space. It’s not a big deal to not be a winner. He’s been losing at the ice cream game more than he’s won them. Besides, he would buy as many ice creams as he needed to buy to keep taking Ventus out on dates like this.
Dates…
They’re really at that point, huh? Roxas smiles, chuckling quietly to himself as he recalls their first date. Hesitated to even call it that back then. ‘What if people see us?’ ‘What if people think this is weird?’ All thoughts he was too afraid to air out to Ven. One of them being uncomfortable was bad enough. Both of them? He didn’t want that.
It really hit him that day just how different they are— or maybe that’s just a recurring theme the more time they spend together. Ven’s voice is airier, sing-songy compared to Roxas’, and just the slightest, tiniest hint of a lisp. It’s absolutely adorable. But that might just be rose filtered ears that hearing the difference.
“Roxas?”
“Huh?” He nearly drops the stick from surprise.
“What’s ‘WINNER’?”
“You don’t know what a winner is?” Roxas asks with a snort.
“Very funny,” Ven huffs, tapping Roxas’ forehead with the stick. “It’s on the popsicle stick. It says ‘WINNER’, but I don’t know what I won.”
Roxas freezes and goes quiet.
“I know what a winner is, I’m not dumb. I just wonder if I won a prize or something.”
“…Something like that.” Roxas’ heart is hammering. This is it. He could do it — he could do it right now.
“Come on, I’m sure you’ve won plenty of times with as much as you eat these.” Called Roxas right out on that point. “What do I win?”
Ven looks so genuinely curious and unsuspecting and Roxas can barely stand it anymore.
“…Close your eyes.”
Ven looks puzzled, but, trusting Roxas, does as he’s told.
Even his closed eyes are beautiful. Long, thick eyelashes, the way his eyebrows are relaxed and he’s got no clue that Roxas is starting to sweat just staring at him, desperately working up the nerve to move even an inch closer. But those sticky ice cream stained lips lure him in slowly when his focus shifts. Roxas finds himself closer to Ven than when he first told him to close his eyes. Ven is so patient; hasn’t asked what the hold up is, hasn’t opened his eyes, and good gods he’s adorable.
Roxas doesn’t think anymore. Closes his eyes, allows those sweet, rosy lips to draw him in until he feels their warmth against his. Nerves tighten and loosen all at once. Does Ven like this? Is the quiet laugh buzzing against his lips out of happiness or is Ven going to make fun of him for this?
No, he wouldn’t. Not Ven — never Ven.
But what surprises Roxas is Ven going in equally, pressing his lips against Roxas’ briefly, making that soft little smack noise Roxas used to believe to be obnoxious before this moment. They pull apart and Roxas purses his lips together, opening his eyes to gauge Ven’s reaction that he for some reason still feels afraid of.
But to kiss him finally? It feels anything but arrogant like everyone had insisted it would be. It feels liberating, it feels natural — it feels right. No amount of teasing can tear that away from him.
Ventus is Ventus, Roxas is Roxas; they’re together and no one is taking what they have away from them.
“…So, do you kiss everyone with a winning popsicle stick, Roxas?” Ven asks with a laugh and a smile that’s too sweet to be taken as smugly as his question.
“Just the cute ones,” he answers, leaning forward to nuzzle their noses together. “Just you.”
“Heh…” Without hesitation, Ven brings his hand to Roxas’ face, cupping his cheek and brushing his skin with his thumb slowly. It takes all of Roxas’ remaining willpower to not melt right into his boyfriend’s hand. “What about your stick? Did you win anything?”
“I’m already a winner.” His voice is tender, shushed against Ven’s lips before he takes it upon himself to steal them once more, less nervous than the first time, but still clumsy and inexperienced. Ven allows it, fingers curling against Roxas’ cheek and lingering before his lips push back against Roxas’ to release them from their bond.
“Mmh…heheh… Your stick is blank, isn’t it, Roxas?”
And just like that, the evidence is discarded, falling somewhere at the train station below them as Roxas distracts his giggling boyfriend by blowing a raspberry against his cheek.