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Description
Murdering Romance

Disclaimer: Don’t own KH characters.

Warning: gay love, language, AkuRoku, violence below.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

.x.X. Step 1 .X.x.

The sky dimmed under the silvery clouds with rain faintly grazing over. He sat silently on the stained bed in the dirty room, pained and suffering. One hand grabbed his other one, perpetuating the grimace on his face. Life was draining slowly away from his blurry eyes; yet for a moment they skimmed towards a worn and cut piece of photo on the bedside dresser.

It was the photo his mother gave him a long time ago—a picture of him when he was still a baby. He always kept it in his wallet ever since. The grayscale ignored the goldenness in his hair, and the deep blue in his eyes. He turned it over and choked with tears. His mother’s script handwriting was still there, albeit the ink was fading. “May God bless this child”, her voice rang in his head.

He laughed. He never believed in God. Not after what had happened. He laughed in his scorn at his mother’s foolish faith in that damned figure who couldn’t even save her. He scoffed it all.

So led him to find the release he was getting now. He stared at the fluid slowly coming out of the cut, dripping and landing onto the dirty carpet. Finally he would be free of all his suffering. He would find his afterlife waiting in glory for him; Heaven in the sky and his family welcoming him at the gate.

Unfortunately his merry trip to Heaven was interrupted abruptly. With a quick jerk the door was opened by a stranger and quickly closed again. The stranger first didn’t notice him, thinking that he had entered an empty room. Then he was startled by the blond sitting on the bed.

With another quick motion a pistol was jerked out. The blond jumped, alarmed. Neither of them said a word; the stranger pointed the unfriendly dark hole of the barrel at the blond.

Suddenly the stranger almost pounced onto the blond. The stranger’s big hand closed over the fragile, dying boy’s mouth before the latter could let out a whimper. The gun subsequently was pressed right beside the blond’s face. His blue eyes never left the weapon.

Some rushing footsteps passed by outside the room as the stranger concentrated on the thin line of light pouring from the corridor and shadows whipping by from the running legs. The stranger then let go of the blond, retreating back a few feet. There was blood all over them, mixing and smearing so that they couldn’t distinguish whose blood it was. The stranger immediately seemed to be looking for something around the room.

“Th’ hell are you?” The blond asked.

“’ey lay off or I’m gonna pop your head open!” The stranger turned back to him, pistol aimed at the blond’s head. The blond finally took time to notice that he had red hair. Very bluntly, overtly red hair.

The blond closed his eyes. “Shoot me.”

The stranger dropped his mouth open. “What?”

“Kill me.” The other repeated, “I was going to kill myself anyway. Might as well get the job done faster.”

The stranger looked down at the blond’s bleeding arm. The crimson liquid was smeared all over. The cut seemed fairly deep, but only enough for a slow death. He gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on his pistol. The boy looked young—very young. About twenty, if not less.

There was a click and the blond opened his eyes back up.

The stranger had his back turned to him as he rummaged through the closet in the room. The blond was disappointed and gulped. The redheaded stranger pulled out an old piece of cloth and began to wrap it around his gun. He knotted the piece together and was ready to throw it out of the room’s window. He halted midway, eying the blond out of the corner of his green eyes.

With a groan he untied the cloth and approached the blond. The latter cowered away but the redhead grabbed the bleeding arm and pulled it forcefully. They moved into the room’s bathroom and the stranger opened the faucet to run hot water over the cut.

A moan that sounded like a rumble of anguish and whimper of old age tore out of the blond’s lips. The sink turned pink with blooded water. The stranger stared at the cleaning wound until it was washed to an acceptable level of quarantine and tied the cloth around the cut.

The blond growled with darkened eyes, “What’d you do that for?!”

“I just had a buddy killed in front of me. Now you keep your life for the sake of him.” The redhead said, and then, as if an afterthought, added, “Or you’ll get it from me.”

The blond stared at him. “Who are you?”

“Axel.” He pulled his bloody shirt over himself and wrapped it around the gun, and then he pulled a piece of bed sheet and wrapped it around the bundle again. Finally he tossed it out of the window into the dumpster at the bottom of the street. “And you?”

The blond stared at Axel a little skeptically. “…Roxas.”

.x.X. Step 2 .X.x.

Hours passed and Axel was still in Roxas’ room. Police had gathered around the hotel building and were searching floor-to-floor for investigation. Roxas knew Axel was somebody that he shouldn’t be involved with but he couldn’t care. He was busy brooding over what he would do now that he got his life back. It would seem pointless to try and kill himself again, plus the thought itself was mollifying enough.

“Say, why’d you want to kill yourself?” Axel asked, sitting on the floor across from Roxas on the bed. Roxas looked up from his finger poking at the cloth and glared.

“It’s none of your business.”

“You might wanna start changing your attitude talking to Capone’s men-” Axel blurted out carelessly.

“So you are the one the police are looking for.” Roxas slipped his eyes back to his injured arm. “No wonder you won’t leave.”

“’ey watch your tongue.” Axel howled. The next moment that Roxas looked up a high-pitched bang burst out. A sparkle flew off somewhere in the corner of the room and Axel cursed loudly. Roxas was clueless as to what happened but the redhead went up and pushed him down so that they were both ducking. Next time around louder and clearer bangs were heard. The shots were in short spurts in between pausing windows. Axel’s breathing was labored and came in short puffs beside Roxas’ ear.

“Fuck.” He swore. “We’ve got to go for the door.”

“I’m not going with you.” Roxas said. “And there are police out there!”

“They’d be around the block looking for the bastard trying to kill us now.” Axel panted. “And they’ll be looking for you anyway so you better just come with me.”

“What?! But-” Axel didn’t give Roxas time to finish his sentence as the redhead dragged the blond towards the door during one of the windows. Cold air rushed to Axel’s skin as he ran down the dimly lit corridor, Roxas pulled right behind him by the wrist.

Through the winding hallways and doors they went down by the back staircase. It was wet and cold outside. Filthy water puddles smacked against Roxas’ bare feet. Axel led him around the back alleys of the town like a snake knew its nest. They arrived at a rusted door and slithered into the underground world unknown.

.x.X. Step 3 .X.x.

It was fairly loud down underground at the speakeasy. Roxas had never been in one before. He was raised by considerably “clean” parents, in a considerably “clean” neighborhood. The air was hot, and he was crammed in a small smoking booth with Axel. The redhead before him faced away from him, and under the glare of the concentrated halogen light Roxas could make out bruises all over his back.

The warm air made it harder to breathe. Roxas puffed in gusts to keep up with his lungs. Axel crackled.

“Too hot for you?” Axel threw a glance over his shoulder. Roxas gulped and shook his head weakly.

“Am I ever going to be able to go back to my original life?” He asked, casting his eyes down.

“You chose to die.” The redhead reminded as he put on a shirt. “That Roxas is dead now. So is Axel. They got shot.”

Roxas looked up at the man perplexedly. Axel threw him a smile and opened the door of the booth. Cool air welcomed Roxas into a world of dancing; of joy and entertainment. Axel expertly walked around the tables, arriving at a standing bar.

“I’m on the lam.” He said to the bartender and placed a bill, “Hit me.”

A cocktail glass soon found its way into Axel’s hand. Moments ago Roxas wouldn’t have cared if Axel would get drunk off of anything and died at a corner of the street. But now he was stuck with the man and his curiosity began to grow on him.

“What would you do now?” The blond asked.

“You mean what would ‘we’ do now.” Axel corrected him. “You’re stuck with me, kid. Unless you wanna die quick, you’d better come with me.”

“To where?” Roxas crossed his arms. “And don’t forget that I did once choose to die. I could do the same again.”

“Just to get rid of me? Naw you won’t.” Axel smirked, waving the drink in front of Roxas’ face. “We could go south, you know, get out of Chicago. Or East to New York, if you want.”

“And what would we do then?”

“I don’t know. Split up maybe.” Axel shrugged, watching flappers dance in the center of the dance floor. “You can’t rebuild your life with me at your tail—if you want to rebuild it, that is.”

Roxas groaned and leaned on the bar. “Why’d you save me? None of this would be such a headache if you just let me die!”

“Be grateful now, you little brat.” Axel rolled his eyes. “It’ll be worth it, trust me.”

Roxas wanted to retort the man. He wanted to tell him every reason why he thought it wouldn’t be worth it. He wanted to tell him just how fucked up his life was that no amount of effort could rebuild it. But he was cut off from his luck when a commotion began behind the curtain at the front of the store.

“Bulls ‘re coming.” Axel grabbed his hand and pulled him into the back. Quickly they were running again, out of the speakeasy and into the soft raining again. Roxas’ feet were still bare and cold. It was beginning to feel icy. They slowed to a walk when they were out of the bar’s range and Roxas stopped.

“Axel, my feet are cold.” He didn’t look at the man in the eyes, but instead his golden lashes fluttered downcast. Axel’s heart tweaked and he sighed. He turned around and lowered his body so that Roxas could climb onto him for a piggyback.

“If guys back at boss’s saw me like this I’d never live through another day.” Axel laughed. The sidewalk in front of them seemed to stretch infinitely. Roxas had a feeling that it would be a long and lonely road, and they had only each other’s warmth to cling onto in this gently showering coldness.

.x.X. Step 4 .X.x.

It had been three months since they allegedly ran away from police pursuit—or at least, Axel did. Roxas found a job and was staying at some run-down hotel, again. Axel somehow managed to find out Capone’s smaller organization in the town and spent most of his days there, even though he stayed in the same room with Roxas. The blond at first grudgingly accepted, having no other reason than Axel’s saving of his life. But the redhead so far hadn’t brought Roxas into any trouble and quite frankly, the blond enjoyed the company.

Sometimes Axel was so funny he didn’t seem like a gangster at all. Like how he was popping peanuts into his mouth as he read the newspapers in his hands. Roxas chuckled upon seeing him, and then shivered for the air was cold. He dried his wet hair with a towel and lined up his shoes at the edge of the bed.

“What’s so funny?” Axel asked.

Roxas shrugged, “Nothing.” He climbed into bed and snuggled away from the coldness. “It’s cold.”

“Sure thing.” Axel sipped the last of his coffee. “Can I sleep in the bed tonight?”

Roxas blinked. “What? You mean, together?”

“Yeah, together.” Axel stared into him. The blond shrugged and nodded. “Alright.”

The redhead turned off the lights and quickly made himself comfortable in the warm blanket. A bed was much better than the cold floor, after all. They lied back to back, neither getting any actual sleep. Moonlight poured in through the small dirty window. Roxas breathed with deliberate delicateness.

“Axel… you asleep?”

“No.” Came the quiet reply.

“How many times, do you think, will we be like this, together?”

“I don’t know.” A shift of weight came as Axel moved. Roxas bit his lip. Axel could never be too promising, especially with his job in the way.

“How did you become the way you are, Axel?”

“It’s a long story.” The redhead sighed. “I met some people. They taught me stuff. Stuff I wasn’t supposed to know at my age. All in all somehow I wound up being here.” A bright splinter of moonlight flared from his eyes. “What about you? How’d you become suicidal?”

“I fought in the war.” Roxas whispered lowly, just enough to be heard. “‘The war to end all wars’. It ended more than just that.” He collected his breath, “I went away being the proud son of my father and my mother. I still remember saluting to them in my new uniform at the train station. And then I was sent to England. And when I came back they weren’t there anymore.”

“Disease?”

“German U-boats.” Roxas said with an abhorrent loathing. “They wanted to come see me. I told them not to. They said the navy wouldn’t attack passenger ships. I should’ve gone back so they wouldn’t come. I’ve lost it all, Axel. I’ve lost everything in my life.”

“Roxas, it’s not your fault.” Axel rasped out in his coarse voice and patted Roxas on the head. “They must’ve been really proud of you.”

Roxas shrunk away from Axel’s touch. The redhead sighed and didn’t insist. “Try to get some sleep, Roxas.”

“Thanks…” Roxas replied weakly. “You too, Axel.”

.x.X. Step 5 .X.x.

One day Axel came back exploding into the room with a hurried face. Roxas jumped and looked up at him.

“I’ve got to go.” Axel moaned out.

“Where?” Roxas inquired.

“Chicago.”

Roxas couldn’t say anything in reply. He didn’t even want to remember that place he came from. He glanced away.

“Capone wants me back for a job—for something.” The redhead continued shakily. “I don’t know what it is. I-”

“You may not make it back?” Roxas tried his best to hide the quivering.

“Maybe.” Axel sighed. Roxas heaved and stood up, turning away from Axel and crawled into his bed. The redhead was exasperated. He slipped into the bed, too, staring at the back of Roxas’ golden spikes.

“Are you going to kill someone?” Roxas asked quietly.

“Most likely.” Axel sighed.

“Why do you do stuff like this?”

“I can’t get out of it.” Axel’s voice was full of scorn. “Once you joined, the only way to get out is to get killed. Either you get killed by Moran like I’ve been avoiding to, or you get killed by Capone because he thinks you’re betraying him. He could literally do anything. He made me burn a man alive once.”

Roxas didn’t say anything. Axel could feel the slight trembling in him. His heart was thumping in his chest and breaking his ribcage and screaming to get out. He wished he could at least hold Roxas for once in his life before he was gone.

Roxas’ teary eyes snapped open when the arms wrapped around him. His trembling ceased and he tensed, feeling the nose that buried in the crook of his neck. Then came a small kiss on his shoulder. And then there was a drop of tear, followed by more kisses. Roxas turned and met green eyes. Just really, really, plainly green eyes. Axel chuckled and kissed Roxas’ forehead gently. A thousand thoughts ran through the blond’s head, and the end of the wet, cold road suddenly became clear to him. He clung onto the only warmth beside him, sinking into perpetuity.

.x.X. Step 6 .X.x.

Roxas woke up on Valentine’s Day groggy and shaken up. He looked down at where Axel was and saw that the redhead was gone. A sickening disappointment sunk in his stomach. With a sigh he climbed out of bed to put on some clothes. His back hurt but he ignored the numbing soreness and got to work.

On the way he passed by some newspaper stall with an old man listening to the radio: Good… Morning Springfielders! First thing up the news: earlier in the morning a seven-man massacre occurred in Chicago. Police are giving no information but witnesses are saying that they recognized those men as members of a gang. Neither Al Capone nor Bugs Moran have made any comment regarding the apparent gang shoot-out…

Roxas dropped his briefcase and ran.

.x.X. Step 7 .X.x.

It had been two years since Roxas last saw Axel. The hard times had hit but Roxas was managing okay for himself. He was… alone, after all. He didn’t have any mouths to feed. He kept all of Axel’s things he got from the syndicate sub-headquarters. He had to find out the painful truth through the all unsent letters Axel wrote addressed to him during the three months they were together. Roxas even asked one of Axel’s follow-ups why the redhead was so stupid and didn’t just say his thoughts out loud but rather wrote them down and never showed them to him. The follow-up kid bawled out soon. Leaving him a new address, Roxas took all the stuff and moved away from Springfield.

Roxas was somewhat grateful for Axel’s suggestion of being a hotel leech. He kept all his money with him and when the housing sellout came he had advantage over everyone else. But without Axel, he felt as if an old working stiff waiting to die any day soon. He’d seen so many people around him go down. So many times that he wasn’t sure if he wanted to continue.

Approaching his town house he stopped over at the mailbox. The old rusted tin can squeaked as he pulled at the flap. Roxas reached inside and felt something unusual.

He pulled out a pistol, with a rose through the ring of the trigger. Immediately he pulled into a smile.

It was Axel’s pistol.

“That’s a keen gun you’ve got there.” A smiling voice drew close. Roxas looked over and dropped his mouth.

“You must be the legendary beautiful Roxas. I’m sorry but I’ve come to tell you that Axel is dead.” There was a playful pause. “He got shot.”

“And who may you be then, if Axel is dead?” Roxas took the rose out of the trigger ring and smelled it, his eyes fluttering up at the man. The stranger smirked and whispered into Roxas’ ear, “I’m just nobody.”

And that night, for the longest time with the greatest passion, Roxas clung onto the searing heat amidst the wintry coldness on a Valentine’s Day.

Description
Murdering Romance

Disclaimer: Don’t own KH characters.

Warning: gay love, language, AkuRoku, violence below.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

.x.X. Step 1 .X.x.

The sky dimmed under the silvery clouds with rain faintly grazing over. He sat silently on the stained bed in the dirty room, pained and suffering. One hand grabbed his other one, perpetuating the grimace on his face. Life was draining slowly away from his blurry eyes; yet for a moment they skimmed towards a worn and cut piece of photo on the bedside dresser.

It was the photo his mother gave him a long time ago—a picture of him when he was still a baby. He always kept it in his wallet ever since. The grayscale ignored the goldenness in his hair, and the deep blue in his eyes. He turned it over and choked with tears. His mother’s script handwriting was still there, albeit the ink was fading. “May God bless this child”, her voice rang in his head.

He laughed. He never believed in God. Not after what had happened. He laughed in his scorn at his mother’s foolish faith in that damned figure who couldn’t even save her. He scoffed it all.

So led him to find the release he was getting now. He stared at the fluid slowly coming out of the cut, dripping and landing onto the dirty carpet. Finally he would be free of all his suffering. He would find his afterlife waiting in glory for him; Heaven in the sky and his family welcoming him at the gate.

Unfortunately his merry trip to Heaven was interrupted abruptly. With a quick jerk the door was opened by a stranger and quickly closed again. The stranger first didn’t notice him, thinking that he had entered an empty room. Then he was startled by the blond sitting on the bed.

With another quick motion a pistol was jerked out. The blond jumped, alarmed. Neither of them said a word; the stranger pointed the unfriendly dark hole of the barrel at the blond.

Suddenly the stranger almost pounced onto the blond. The stranger’s big hand closed over the fragile, dying boy’s mouth before the latter could let out a whimper. The gun subsequently was pressed right beside the blond’s face. His blue eyes never left the weapon.

Some rushing footsteps passed by outside the room as the stranger concentrated on the thin line of light pouring from the corridor and shadows whipping by from the running legs. The stranger then let go of the blond, retreating back a few feet. There was blood all over them, mixing and smearing so that they couldn’t distinguish whose blood it was. The stranger immediately seemed to be looking for something around the room.

“Th’ hell are you?” The blond asked.

“’ey lay off or I’m gonna pop your head open!” The stranger turned back to him, pistol aimed at the blond’s head. The blond finally took time to notice that he had red hair. Very bluntly, overtly red hair.

The blond closed his eyes. “Shoot me.”

The stranger dropped his mouth open. “What?”

“Kill me.” The other repeated, “I was going to kill myself anyway. Might as well get the job done faster.”

The stranger looked down at the blond’s bleeding arm. The crimson liquid was smeared all over. The cut seemed fairly deep, but only enough for a slow death. He gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on his pistol. The boy looked young—very young. About twenty, if not less.

There was a click and the blond opened his eyes back up.

The stranger had his back turned to him as he rummaged through the closet in the room. The blond was disappointed and gulped. The redheaded stranger pulled out an old piece of cloth and began to wrap it around his gun. He knotted the piece together and was ready to throw it out of the room’s window. He halted midway, eying the blond out of the corner of his green eyes.

With a groan he untied the cloth and approached the blond. The latter cowered away but the redhead grabbed the bleeding arm and pulled it forcefully. They moved into the room’s bathroom and the stranger opened the faucet to run hot water over the cut.

A moan that sounded like a rumble of anguish and whimper of old age tore out of the blond’s lips. The sink turned pink with blooded water. The stranger stared at the cleaning wound until it was washed to an acceptable level of quarantine and tied the cloth around the cut.

The blond growled with darkened eyes, “What’d you do that for?!”

“I just had a buddy killed in front of me. Now you keep your life for the sake of him.” The redhead said, and then, as if an afterthought, added, “Or you’ll get it from me.”

The blond stared at him. “Who are you?”

“Axel.” He pulled his bloody shirt over himself and wrapped it around the gun, and then he pulled a piece of bed sheet and wrapped it around the bundle again. Finally he tossed it out of the window into the dumpster at the bottom of the street. “And you?”

The blond stared at Axel a little skeptically. “…Roxas.”

.x.X. Step 2 .X.x.

Hours passed and Axel was still in Roxas’ room. Police had gathered around the hotel building and were searching floor-to-floor for investigation. Roxas knew Axel was somebody that he shouldn’t be involved with but he couldn’t care. He was busy brooding over what he would do now that he got his life back. It would seem pointless to try and kill himself again, plus the thought itself was mollifying enough.

“Say, why’d you want to kill yourself?” Axel asked, sitting on the floor across from Roxas on the bed. Roxas looked up from his finger poking at the cloth and glared.

“It’s none of your business.”

“You might wanna start changing your attitude talking to Capone’s men-” Axel blurted out carelessly.

“So you are the one the police are looking for.” Roxas slipped his eyes back to his injured arm. “No wonder you won’t leave.”

“’ey watch your tongue.” Axel howled. The next moment that Roxas looked up a high-pitched bang burst out. A sparkle flew off somewhere in the corner of the room and Axel cursed loudly. Roxas was clueless as to what happened but the redhead went up and pushed him down so that they were both ducking. Next time around louder and clearer bangs were heard. The shots were in short spurts in between pausing windows. Axel’s breathing was labored and came in short puffs beside Roxas’ ear.

“Fuck.” He swore. “We’ve got to go for the door.”

“I’m not going with you.” Roxas said. “And there are police out there!”

“They’d be around the block looking for the bastard trying to kill us now.” Axel panted. “And they’ll be looking for you anyway so you better just come with me.”

“What?! But-” Axel didn’t give Roxas time to finish his sentence as the redhead dragged the blond towards the door during one of the windows. Cold air rushed to Axel’s skin as he ran down the dimly lit corridor, Roxas pulled right behind him by the wrist.

Through the winding hallways and doors they went down by the back staircase. It was wet and cold outside. Filthy water puddles smacked against Roxas’ bare feet. Axel led him around the back alleys of the town like a snake knew its nest. They arrived at a rusted door and slithered into the underground world unknown.

.x.X. Step 3 .X.x.

It was fairly loud down underground at the speakeasy. Roxas had never been in one before. He was raised by considerably “clean” parents, in a considerably “clean” neighborhood. The air was hot, and he was crammed in a small smoking booth with Axel. The redhead before him faced away from him, and under the glare of the concentrated halogen light Roxas could make out bruises all over his back.

The warm air made it harder to breathe. Roxas puffed in gusts to keep up with his lungs. Axel crackled.

“Too hot for you?” Axel threw a glance over his shoulder. Roxas gulped and shook his head weakly.

“Am I ever going to be able to go back to my original life?” He asked, casting his eyes down.

“You chose to die.” The redhead reminded as he put on a shirt. “That Roxas is dead now. So is Axel. They got shot.”

Roxas looked up at the man perplexedly. Axel threw him a smile and opened the door of the booth. Cool air welcomed Roxas into a world of dancing; of joy and entertainment. Axel expertly walked around the tables, arriving at a standing bar.

“I’m on the lam.” He said to the bartender and placed a bill, “Hit me.”

A cocktail glass soon found its way into Axel’s hand. Moments ago Roxas wouldn’t have cared if Axel would get drunk off of anything and died at a corner of the street. But now he was stuck with the man and his curiosity began to grow on him.

“What would you do now?” The blond asked.

“You mean what would ‘we’ do now.” Axel corrected him. “You’re stuck with me, kid. Unless you wanna die quick, you’d better come with me.”

“To where?” Roxas crossed his arms. “And don’t forget that I did once choose to die. I could do the same again.”

“Just to get rid of me? Naw you won’t.” Axel smirked, waving the drink in front of Roxas’ face. “We could go south, you know, get out of Chicago. Or East to New York, if you want.”

“And what would we do then?”

“I don’t know. Split up maybe.” Axel shrugged, watching flappers dance in the center of the dance floor. “You can’t rebuild your life with me at your tail—if you want to rebuild it, that is.”

Roxas groaned and leaned on the bar. “Why’d you save me? None of this would be such a headache if you just let me die!”

“Be grateful now, you little brat.” Axel rolled his eyes. “It’ll be worth it, trust me.”

Roxas wanted to retort the man. He wanted to tell him every reason why he thought it wouldn’t be worth it. He wanted to tell him just how fucked up his life was that no amount of effort could rebuild it. But he was cut off from his luck when a commotion began behind the curtain at the front of the store.

“Bulls ‘re coming.” Axel grabbed his hand and pulled him into the back. Quickly they were running again, out of the speakeasy and into the soft raining again. Roxas’ feet were still bare and cold. It was beginning to feel icy. They slowed to a walk when they were out of the bar’s range and Roxas stopped.

“Axel, my feet are cold.” He didn’t look at the man in the eyes, but instead his golden lashes fluttered downcast. Axel’s heart tweaked and he sighed. He turned around and lowered his body so that Roxas could climb onto him for a piggyback.

“If guys back at boss’s saw me like this I’d never live through another day.” Axel laughed. The sidewalk in front of them seemed to stretch infinitely. Roxas had a feeling that it would be a long and lonely road, and they had only each other’s warmth to cling onto in this gently showering coldness.

.x.X. Step 4 .X.x.

It had been three months since they allegedly ran away from police pursuit—or at least, Axel did. Roxas found a job and was staying at some run-down hotel, again. Axel somehow managed to find out Capone’s smaller organization in the town and spent most of his days there, even though he stayed in the same room with Roxas. The blond at first grudgingly accepted, having no other reason than Axel’s saving of his life. But the redhead so far hadn’t brought Roxas into any trouble and quite frankly, the blond enjoyed the company.

Sometimes Axel was so funny he didn’t seem like a gangster at all. Like how he was popping peanuts into his mouth as he read the newspapers in his hands. Roxas chuckled upon seeing him, and then shivered for the air was cold. He dried his wet hair with a towel and lined up his shoes at the edge of the bed.

“What’s so funny?” Axel asked.

Roxas shrugged, “Nothing.” He climbed into bed and snuggled away from the coldness. “It’s cold.”

“Sure thing.” Axel sipped the last of his coffee. “Can I sleep in the bed tonight?”

Roxas blinked. “What? You mean, together?”

“Yeah, together.” Axel stared into him. The blond shrugged and nodded. “Alright.”

The redhead turned off the lights and quickly made himself comfortable in the warm blanket. A bed was much better than the cold floor, after all. They lied back to back, neither getting any actual sleep. Moonlight poured in through the small dirty window. Roxas breathed with deliberate delicateness.

“Axel… you asleep?”

“No.” Came the quiet reply.

“How many times, do you think, will we be like this, together?”

“I don’t know.” A shift of weight came as Axel moved. Roxas bit his lip. Axel could never be too promising, especially with his job in the way.

“How did you become the way you are, Axel?”

“It’s a long story.” The redhead sighed. “I met some people. They taught me stuff. Stuff I wasn’t supposed to know at my age. All in all somehow I wound up being here.” A bright splinter of moonlight flared from his eyes. “What about you? How’d you become suicidal?”

“I fought in the war.” Roxas whispered lowly, just enough to be heard. “‘The war to end all wars’. It ended more than just that.” He collected his breath, “I went away being the proud son of my father and my mother. I still remember saluting to them in my new uniform at the train station. And then I was sent to England. And when I came back they weren’t there anymore.”

“Disease?”

“German U-boats.” Roxas said with an abhorrent loathing. “They wanted to come see me. I told them not to. They said the navy wouldn’t attack passenger ships. I should’ve gone back so they wouldn’t come. I’ve lost it all, Axel. I’ve lost everything in my life.”

“Roxas, it’s not your fault.” Axel rasped out in his coarse voice and patted Roxas on the head. “They must’ve been really proud of you.”

Roxas shrunk away from Axel’s touch. The redhead sighed and didn’t insist. “Try to get some sleep, Roxas.”

“Thanks…” Roxas replied weakly. “You too, Axel.”

.x.X. Step 5 .X.x.

One day Axel came back exploding into the room with a hurried face. Roxas jumped and looked up at him.

“I’ve got to go.” Axel moaned out.

“Where?” Roxas inquired.

“Chicago.”

Roxas couldn’t say anything in reply. He didn’t even want to remember that place he came from. He glanced away.

“Capone wants me back for a job—for something.” The redhead continued shakily. “I don’t know what it is. I-”

“You may not make it back?” Roxas tried his best to hide the quivering.

“Maybe.” Axel sighed. Roxas heaved and stood up, turning away from Axel and crawled into his bed. The redhead was exasperated. He slipped into the bed, too, staring at the back of Roxas’ golden spikes.

“Are you going to kill someone?” Roxas asked quietly.

“Most likely.” Axel sighed.

“Why do you do stuff like this?”

“I can’t get out of it.” Axel’s voice was full of scorn. “Once you joined, the only way to get out is to get killed. Either you get killed by Moran like I’ve been avoiding to, or you get killed by Capone because he thinks you’re betraying him. He could literally do anything. He made me burn a man alive once.”

Roxas didn’t say anything. Axel could feel the slight trembling in him. His heart was thumping in his chest and breaking his ribcage and screaming to get out. He wished he could at least hold Roxas for once in his life before he was gone.

Roxas’ teary eyes snapped open when the arms wrapped around him. His trembling ceased and he tensed, feeling the nose that buried in the crook of his neck. Then came a small kiss on his shoulder. And then there was a drop of tear, followed by more kisses. Roxas turned and met green eyes. Just really, really, plainly green eyes. Axel chuckled and kissed Roxas’ forehead gently. A thousand thoughts ran through the blond’s head, and the end of the wet, cold road suddenly became clear to him. He clung onto the only warmth beside him, sinking into perpetuity.

.x.X. Step 6 .X.x.

Roxas woke up on Valentine’s Day groggy and shaken up. He looked down at where Axel was and saw that the redhead was gone. A sickening disappointment sunk in his stomach. With a sigh he climbed out of bed to put on some clothes. His back hurt but he ignored the numbing soreness and got to work.

On the way he passed by some newspaper stall with an old man listening to the radio: Good… Morning Springfielders! First thing up the news: earlier in the morning a seven-man massacre occurred in Chicago. Police are giving no information but witnesses are saying that they recognized those men as members of a gang. Neither Al Capone nor Bugs Moran have made any comment regarding the apparent gang shoot-out…

Roxas dropped his briefcase and ran.

.x.X. Step 7 .X.x.

It had been two years since Roxas last saw Axel. The hard times had hit but Roxas was managing okay for himself. He was… alone, after all. He didn’t have any mouths to feed. He kept all of Axel’s things he got from the syndicate sub-headquarters. He had to find out the painful truth through the all unsent letters Axel wrote addressed to him during the three months they were together. Roxas even asked one of Axel’s follow-ups why the redhead was so stupid and didn’t just say his thoughts out loud but rather wrote them down and never showed them to him. The follow-up kid bawled out soon. Leaving him a new address, Roxas took all the stuff and moved away from Springfield.

Roxas was somewhat grateful for Axel’s suggestion of being a hotel leech. He kept all his money with him and when the housing sellout came he had advantage over everyone else. But without Axel, he felt as if an old working stiff waiting to die any day soon. He’d seen so many people around him go down. So many times that he wasn’t sure if he wanted to continue.

Approaching his town house he stopped over at the mailbox. The old rusted tin can squeaked as he pulled at the flap. Roxas reached inside and felt something unusual.

He pulled out a pistol, with a rose through the ring of the trigger. Immediately he pulled into a smile.

It was Axel’s pistol.

“That’s a keen gun you’ve got there.” A smiling voice drew close. Roxas looked over and dropped his mouth.

“You must be the legendary beautiful Roxas. I’m sorry but I’ve come to tell you that Axel is dead.” There was a playful pause. “He got shot.”

“And who may you be then, if Axel is dead?” Roxas took the rose out of the trigger ring and smelled it, his eyes fluttering up at the man. The stranger smirked and whispered into Roxas’ ear, “I’m just nobody.”

And that night, for the longest time with the greatest passion, Roxas clung onto the searing heat amidst the wintry coldness on a Valentine’s Day.