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The Night	By : mewsomniac Category: Kingdom Hearts > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 1695 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: NO profit is being made off this work. Kingdom Hearts, Final Fantasy, and Disney belong to their rightful owners, and I do not claim ANY ownership over their properties. FULL DISCLAIMER BELOW.

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The Night
Chapter II: Backbiting
April 8th, 2023

            7 pm, and his odd job is done just in time for the sun to be sinking in the sky.

            The shopkeep turns the corner, just as Roxas hoists the last box into the delivery truck, and flashes a wrinkled grin at the teen.

            "Another job well done, my boy," He remarks in his old, kind voice. "In record time too! My stars, if any of my full-time employees worked as hard as you, I could be sittin' on the beach at Destiny Islands for my retirement even sooner!"

            Even though Roxas has heard similar compliments from the same man over the years, it never ceases to bring a smile to his face. Poor guy has been trying to retire since Roxas was a child, but his greedy kids have been keeping him far from it.

            "Thank you, sir. I'm glad I could help."

            "Such a polite young man! My stars, if my wife, God rest her soul, had the pleasure of meeting you—why, she'd go ahead and pluck you up and call you her son right on the spot!"

            Another oft-heard comment, but Roxas laughs anyway—the thought of belonging to a different family is a joy in itself. He has met this elder's wife before, back when he was about 15. He, Hayner, Olette, and Pence went on a rescue mission for her lost cat (who was actually sitting on the roof of her shop the whole time). Still, the joy in her withered face upon the feline's return was reward enough for their actions. She died about a year after that, an injury of some sorts, and her husband took over the business shortly thereafter.

            "Well now, Roxas, you better hurry home before it's dark." The man reached into his pocket, pulled out some munny, counted it, and then handed it to the teen with a gentle smile.

            When Roxas got it, he counted it himself: 700 munny.

            "Uh, sir," He looked up to the chipper man, confused. "This is 700, my part-time pay is only 300."

            "'All our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them'," He croaked solemnly. "A wise man once said that. My boy, I can tell you have a dream that you are pursuing wholeheartedly. I can see that same spark in your eye my wife had when she opened this little shop, and just like with her, you have my support."

            A warmth crept into Roxas' chest, and he pocketed the munny without further complaint. "Thank you, sir. That means more to me that you can possibly realize."

            "Now! On your way, young man! You've done enough for this old coot, you needn't spend the rest of your night here!" He shooed Roxas off, and the teen waved goodbye as he left—grabbing his skateboard off the ground as he did.

            Aiming for Market Street, Roxas decided to walk rather than ride. The early summer warmth was nice, and the stillness of the streets was also something to be appreciated. It seemed utterly empty considering it's Saturday, but then, Roxas figured, all the action is around the Tram Common or in Sunset Terrace. Market Street is usually tame if it's not the early morning, after school, or 5 o'clock rush. Lazy, quiet days like these are what Roxas lives for, and they almost make living in this awful place tolerable.

            If only, is a consistent thought of his. If only it were that simple; this alone could be reason to stay. If only…

            But tranquility begets chaos, and liars beget corruption which begets ruin. A town of fresh paint over the rotting canvas that slowly eats into the vibrant pigments. You can paint this town in whatever light, or with whatever perspective, but that canvas will devour each and every stroke with the truth, no matter what you do. So Roxas stomachs the truth, but at least this temporary painting is pretty enough to enjoy while it lasts.

            That's when he sees it.

            A splotch of black that suddenly worked it's way into the portrait—literally.

            A lanky, hooded man in a long black cloak strides down from the top of the Market Place; each step taken as if he's stepping forth from the shadows themselves. Despite his graceful stride, he seems turned around—as if looking for something lost or forgotten. He certainly doesn't look like he belongs here, and Roxas is positive he hasn't seen this figure before. Hell, the guy stands out so much, Roxas is surprised he hasn't at least heard of such a sight—in this town of all places…

            So, of course, Roxas goes to investigate; more so out of curiosity than courtesy.

            A few feet into his pursuit, Roxas noticed the man is holding a small piece of paper toward which his head was tilted. About halfway up the street, he was merely a yard-and-a-half away from the stranger, who was still intent on their paper. The tall figure didn't seem to notice him at all.

            "Excuse me," Roxas called out, and the man jumped in fright. Suddenly, the figure seemed panicked, as his hooded head was turning in nearly every direction. Regardless, Roxas continued, "Are you lost? I don't believe I've seen you around here."

            "No, no, no," A suave, friendly (familiar?) voice drifted from the hood, "I'm fine, I thought I got this place memorized, and then—"

            "Wait," Roxas interrupted him; he recognized this strange man's voice somehow. "Do I… know you?"

            There was a long, awkward pause. Roxas' eyes looked deeply into the darkness of the hood to no prevail, but he was sure he knew this person from somewhere, even if the dark cloak was unfamiliar. There was something there, in the back of his memories, gnawing on his brain.

            And then, "Holy shit," the man chortled. "No way. Roxas?" Gloved hands pulled back the hood to reveal a shock of fire-red hair and grinning emerald eyes. "Is that really you?"

            Hit with a full wave of realization, Roxas' eyes go wide as the memories overload his brain—all but one. A name.

            "You're—" He splutters, "You… You're… uh…"

            "Talk about blank with a capital B—you really don't remember? It's me!" The redhead exclaimed, face alight with joy. "You know… Axel!"

            Roxas mirrored the look just then, and the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place. He slammed his hand against his forehead, laughing hysterically. "How can I forget the kid who almost set our elementary school on fire?!"

            "So you remember that…" He chuckled heartily, "I'm so flattered!"

            "I guess I just committed it to memory."

            They both laughed, and Axel moved in to embrace him in a friendly hug, which Roxas returned wholeheartedly.

            "It's been so long," Axel's muffled voice floated from Roxas' shoulder. "How's my best friend been? How's Twilight Town?"

            Roxas pulled away from the hug, but both men still held onto eachother's elbows. "Too long, you mean. I've been just about as good as the town..."

            Axel grimaced. Though his childhood memories of Twilight Town were fading, he knew this was for certain: "That's not good at all."

            "You're telling me," Roxas shrugged, "And what about you? I haven't heard from you since you moved."

            It seemed like so long ago... much longer than it actually has been. Axel and his family left for Dusk City right at the end of seventh grade. After their leave they were deemed crazy for taking a child to what is otherwise considered to be Hell. Meanwhile, all the children just thought he moved because he nearly burnt the school to the ground with simply a box of matches and a stuffed Moogle plush. He was a hero in their eyes ever since, and Roxas was lucky enough to call himself Axel's best friend.

            "Yeah, I'm sorry about that," He broke from the grasp to rub his neck in shame. "My parents didn't let me contact anyone from Twilight Town. As time went on I just kind of... gave up. Moved on." He threw his arms up, smiling. "But hey! I'm here now! At least for a while."

            Roxas gave him a bemused face. He is about four years younger than Axel, but somehow they had a strong connection, and it was suddenly pulled from beneath his feet like a slick rug; that was very devastating as a child. Of course Axel's sudden presence didn't make up for years of wondering and absence, but Roxas was happy about it none-the-less.

            "Speaking of, how have your parents been?" Axel prodded him, still chipper.

            "Well my dad has hit the bottle pretty hard, and my mom-" Roxas suddenly choked. "My mom she... well..." The words caught on his tongue like a hook: everyone knew about his mother. In this place something like that is nearly impossible to miss. For a whole month after the incident, every conversation was filled with condolences but never did Roxas ever start them. It was always someone else sharing their grief, and since everyone knew, he never had a chance to really say it. Not to anyone.

            "My mom is... well, a year after you left..."

            "Deep breath, Roxas," Something familiar echoes in his head, "Breathe in… now out. Tell me what happened."

            Roxas sucked in a breath, and braced himself as if a tsunami was coming his way. "She's dead. My mom is... dead."

            Axel's face fell.

            "Holy shit... I think we need to catch up."

            They walked all the way from that spot to the Tram Common's hole in the wall; talking the entire time. Roxas filled Axel in on his life, and vice versa. It turns out Axel's family moved mostly because of a job offering for his mother, and partly because of the fire incident (a smart move, considering it's Twilight Town). Once Axel hit 16 he scored an amazing job and filed for emancipation from his parents. It was granted just before his mom and dad planned to move halfway across the world for the same reason as before, and he's heard little from them since. Meanwhile, he's been doing pretty good in Dusk City, has two roommates (one of which is his boyfriend) and came to Twilight Town as part of his job.

            "Is that your work uniform then?" Roxas asked, looking amusedly at his cloak. "Suit and tie just didn't work out or something?"

            Axel chuckled and leaned his back against the wall beside the hole. "Hey! For your information I do have a suit and tie. This is just my field uniform." From his pocket he uncovered a pack of cigarettes, Moogle 100s, and pulled one out of the box with his lips.

            "Smoking? Really?" Roxas rubbed a temple and chuckled at the taller man. "Fire really is your thing, isn't it?"

            "You have no idea," Axel cupped a hand over the cancer-stick and reached his other hand up as if he had a lighter. After a short pause, during which Axel glanced uncomfortably at Roxas, he let out an awkward laugh before reaching into another pocket. "Heh heh, ahh so used to having this thing in my hand all the time... so to speak..." He brandished a lighter adorned with-of course-flames and a little VIII scribbled in silver permanent marker across it's surface. "My boyfriend thinks it's sexy."

            "Oh really?" Roxas leans on the wall next to him. "Your boyfriend sounds odd."

            Axel made a smug face, and flicked the lighter on behind his cupped hand. "Well he is a musician."

            Roxas titled his head back in a bid to out-smug his old friend. "Do tell."

            Axel took a short drag before speaking through the smoke. "You should hear some of the music he plays, Roxas." He let out a longing sigh; granting the remaining smoke in his lungs freedom. "The way he strums those chords with those hands, and looks at me with those big, ocean blue eyes..." Axel hummed in content as he took another, longer drag from the cigarette. "So fuckable."

            "Okay, okaaay loverboy," Roxas laughed, throwing his hands up in defeat. "You got me. That's all the info I need."

            "Whatever you say, but you asked for it." He ruffled Roxas' hair. "So you said you're a senior next year. Got any plans afterward?"

            A sudden, strange feeling washed over Roxas: for the first time ever, he felt like he could tell someone about his convoluted plans for the future. Axel doesn't live here, and at the moment, his only ties to the Town of Terror are Roxas and that mission of his. This strange feeling felt so liberating and light... it was relief. It was so powerful Roxas was thankful for leaning against the wall earlier because he really could collapse from it.

            He took a nice, fresh gulp of air,

            "Well..."

            And he told Axel everything. Everything down to the raw detail, and with each little bit he shared he felt the weight on his shoulders slowly chip away. God it felt good, like escaping the grasp of a looming shadow that followed from what seemed like so long ago. Afterward, he felt like a ragdoll: relaxed, happy, free. He savored the moment because, like all good things, he knew it was only temporary... but fuck was it damn, damn good.

            "So you're thinking of making a great escape to Dusk City, huh?" Axel smiled down at his friend mid-drag, who looked overtly content. "You know it's dangerous."

            "Yeah, all those spooks. So scary." Roxas chuckled. However, Axel frowned.

            "I mean it, Roxas. Do you know what's out there?" Before Roxas could answer, Axel interrupted. "And there are no 'spooks', they've outlawed necromancy because of that a while ago. Do you know how long it took u-them to liberate all those souls? Plus the vampires, werewolves, gargoyles, and casters are nothing to scoff at."

            Suddenly, Roxas was less sassy and more interested. "Casters?"

            Axel sighed, "I don't even know why I'm telling you this-anyway, Casters are witches and warlocks. W-they, they cleared out the ghosts. They manage all the creatures of the night, for lack of better term. Keep them in line, bring them to justice, et cetera."

            "I see... well, if it's so structured, I should be fine then. Especially if you're on the clock."

            Axel pinched the bridge of his nose. "God damn-wait..." He looked at Roxas, plainly confused. "What?"

            "I'm not dumb Axel, I heard you almost say 'us' and 'we'. You're part of them aren't you? Is that your stellar job: waving your magic wand, bibbity-bobbity-booing all the monsters away?"

            Axel took a long, long drag of his cancer-stick, eyes never leaving Roxas', and it was clear that he was very obviously stalling. It was only after he let the smoke go in a slow, drawn out breath that he spoke.

            "I'll tell you what," His hand slipped into his pocket yet again, this time brandishing a business card. "Call me when you get to Dusk City. I'll put a good word in with the boss for you in the meantime; and if you land the job and make it to the city, you'll get to learn all about what I do. Got it memorized?"

            Roxas took the card, unsatisfied with the response. However, a job's a job, and if it's Axel who's recommending it, why the hell not?

            They parted ways soon after that; Axel, having nearly forgotten about his mission, disappeared into the hole in the wall to complete it. A few weeks later Roxas received a package in the mail. Inside was a coat, (just like Axel's, but tailored for Roxas) and a note. He stored them in his keepsake box, along with Axel's business card.
July 2nd, 2024

            It's all reeling.

            Roxas' vision betrays him with hordes of doppelgangers; everything in his sight is a copy of a copy of a copy. His pounding skull isn't helping matters either, as every step he's forced to take is a losing battle against his failing balance. His body jerks foreword, and that's when Roxas notices a rather large arm is the only thing keeping him from tumbling into either a crumpled mess or oblivion.

            He isn't quite sure of the difference.

            This big blurry mess has a familiar sense to it, as he finds himself subconsciously avoiding obstacles he isn't sure of, while wanting to take memorized steps down a particular path.

            It's the Back Alley, so close to home.

            He's way passed the Usual Spot now, and his captor is pulling him toward what he can only presume is the underground concourse. Originally intended for easier town maintenance, it has evolved into a student hideaway during the school year. In the summertime, it is virtually empty save for some morning commuters going for a jog or frisky teenagers looking to bang or toke at 3 am.

            Warily, Roxas makes an attempt to struggle by pushing the arm around his waist—lead limbed—to no avail. While napping seems ideal for his vehement migraine, Roxas can't bring himself to give up so easily. He tries to clumsily slip out of the tight grasp, and when that doesn't seem to work, he jabs his feet into the ground to act as an anchor. Everything he tries fails miserably, his body better off limp at this point, and the suddenly tightened grip his captor has reinforces that.

            Before he knows it, they're under the neon 3 sign hanging over the entrance of the concourse; the darkness of the tunnel becomes apparent against the fleeting sunset haze, and he blacks out again.
            Sensing awareness, Roxas is struck by another pounding headache with a vengeance—on top of that, the space beneath his side is cold, gravelly, and quite uncomfortable. Once more, a murky stupor fights his conscious, but at the very least he manages to struggle for a more comfortable position. Rolling onto his back, Roxas' head swims, and he lets out a groggy groan at the momentary vertigo. Is this a concussion? Roxas runs through a list of symptoms in his head, and deems it the likeliest problem.

            At least they aren't very serious issues… I'd rather not visit the emergency room today if I don't have to.

            He cracks open his eyes to the gentle yellow lighting of the underground concourse; the russet ceilings and brick walls surrounding him are clear, and Roxas is relieved to have his regular vision back. Blinking into reality, he does his best to piece together what happened—the only apparent fact that stands is him getting knocked the fuck out.

            "Deep breath, Roxas," Something familiar echoes in his head, "Breathe in… now out. Tell me what happened."

            I was on my way home when I stopped to think… that's when it happened.

            Who hit him, though, and why? After taking a moment to ponder this, Roxas curses as his hands fly down to check his pockets for missing items. Wallet, house key, crumpled up receipt and—a mint… Nope, his captor did not mug him, apparently. If they did, the best they'd get is a school I.D., a couple punch cards, or that mint. He allows himself a sigh of relief. Still on his back, he isn't sure what to make of this odd assault.

            And then he hears it.

            "Good evening…" A sudden venom fills Roxas' bloodstream as the sickening words slither into his skull like a cold snake. "…Rucksack."

            He sits up quickly, uncaring of whatever spinning sensation that may waver him, and stares into the cerulean gaze looking wickedly upon him. It is then Roxas takes into account the fact his legs are dangling off some sort of ledge—one of the large steps used to reach a maintenance panel in a more secluded part of the concourse.

            Cautiously, Roxas snarls, "To what do I owe the pleasure, Seifer?" He is on his guard now that he is aware of this newfound threat.

            "Quick on the draw, as always, Rucksack," Seifer chuckles, "I thought it'd take you even a little longer than that to respond. Nasty head injury and all, but hey, at least you didn't bleed."

            While Roxas' vision is swimming slightly, it has not stopped him from calculating his escape. He doesn't know these tunnels as well as he ought to, but he knows his freedom is neon; the entire place is scattered with signs indicating the different exits. Unfortunately, there are only two ways out of this particular alcove: above, where the steps lead to a small window, or the main opening that leads directly to the concourse… which is right where Seifer is standing.

            Fuck.

            "You know," Roxas tries to make small talk—anything to give him extra time to devise a plan. "If you needed to chat, there are more polite ways of getting my attention."

            There's no way Seifer would make such an extraordinary effort to just talk.

            Roxas is ready to pull some secret agent shit where he makes his awesome departure right after the villain reveals a crazy plot to take over the world (or something cliché like that). In this condition, he isn't sure he'll be going anywhere… pushing passed Seifer is a definitive no-go, and it's plausible the bully would reach him before Roxas could safely climb the maintenance steps. At this point, he would have to get on his feet to fully recover from this awful haze before any kind of mad dash to safety is attempted.

            "I've got reasons, you'll see." Seifer drawls, watching him carefully. "Meantime, you're probably clueless as to why you're here. Need me to elaborate?"

            Here it comes: the manifesto. Or is it the monologue? Either way, things seem to be falling into place, so Roxas decides to play along.

            "Yes, actually. It would make this predicament much clearer."

            He waits patiently for Seifer to distract himself—the opportune moment to slide onto his feet and take one step closer to freedom. But instead, Seifer just watches him; looking up and down his frame as if he were marveling a famous painting.

            "Shit, you've changed. Most guys get ballsier as they age, but you somehow devolved into some wussy."

            Then, Seifer takes a step.

            "I remember that struggle tournament where you stepped up to the plate like some galactic hero tryin' to save the universe. You were standin' there, all high and mighty, ready to take me down. Me, right above Setzer on the winner ladder." Step. "I remember the look on your face when you won—champion. Everyone's cheers: 'Roxas, Roxas'." Step. "I remember these three years where I've been the plague. I kept wondering where your spine had run off to, why you were off sulking and not rubbing it in." Step.

            Suddenly, Roxas' plan seems foiled.

            "Now, I'm going to remember your face at this moment. This is when I remind you of how desperate you were, Roxie." Step, step, step… "How simply pitiful you were, just before you finally confronted me. How your eyes followed me in the hallways, how desperately you sought me out in the crowd."

            Just then, the realization dawns on Roxas. While the details of why he is here are still fuzzy, a sudden pain in his chest makes one thing clear: this is pure scorn.

            "You're just so cute in all of your little secrets that you could hide from your friends, but not from the one you despise the most—me. The one you so adorably fawned over… and then that day. Do you remember what I did? I hit you so hard, you skipped school for a whole week." A sick, twisted smile is plastered on Seifer's smug face.

            The memory hurts Roxas too much. It was freshman year. He was only ever lightly picked on by Seifer then, and for some reason Roxas was struggling with emotions over the bully. But that one love letter he never intended on sending, that he was on his way to toss in the trash, plucked from his grasp like a glass slipper…

            His fate was sealed, like that letter had once been.

            "It was precious. You were under my thumb for so long, just because of that little fact. And I didn't share it—no, no—how could I just let go of my personal punching bag? And then you finally defied me, and thought you could scamper off with your tail between your legs and never hear from me again."

            When that struggle tournament came up, Roxas had his chance to finally wriggle from Seifer's grasp. After his defeat, Seifer's word, while revered throughout Twilight Town, would be looked upon as a spiteful lie against Roxas' victory. It worked. Roxas was mostly free from the man's physical cruelty, and after carefully planned avoidance, was nearly free of his verbal abuse as well.

            "Just what exactly do you want?" Roxas bites out, unsure of what this is all leading to. Revenge? A personal vendetta? If he's going to get beaten to a pulp, he's tired of the tension. He can take what is dealt to him. "I'm not getting any younger here."

            "Well, Roxie, I'm lettin' you know I've changed my mind." One more step, and now Seifer is only a couple feet away, and Roxas can clearly see the overconfident man up close in all his self-proclaimed glory. However, something seems off… "I want more power over you, more than I've ever had. So here's my proposal."

            Seifer reaches into his pocket, and it is then Roxas notices a pair of binoculars—an accessory revered by the Disciplinary Committee—clipped to his belt. Out from his pocket, the man reveals a small, nondescript device with a piece of tape hanging off of it.

            "What kind of a proposal is this?" Roxas tries to mask his confusion with sarcasm. "That's certainly not a ring box."

            Seifer's thumb clicks down on a button, and a short bleep is heard. There is silence.

            Roxas scoffs. "I'm still not getting the point—"

            "Whatever losers," Seifer's voice crackles from the box. "Enjoy your date."

            Déjà vu.

            A pause, then "Listen, Hayner told me everything: loving Olette, wanting to hook up with other people," Roxas feels a sharp twist in his stomach, "and even the thing between you two."

            It's a tape recorder. The memory of Seifer gripping the table in that peculiar way flashes through Roxas' mind, along with the object he spotted in the man's grasp shortly after, and suddenly he feels sick.

            "Pence, why are you—"

            "Please, I just want to say, I'm sorry it had to come to that. He tried to make a move on me too, but I shot him down. Just try not to worry about it, okay?" Roxas somehow manages to remember Pence's touches and wishes he would have just tagged along when he had the chance. "Besides, he'd never out you like that, especially not to save his own ass. He only told me because he knows he can trust me."

            Seifer presses the button again before taking on a disturbingly proud demeanor. Roxas is simply dumbfounded, and his thoughts don't seem to be cooperating with him.

            Seifer snickers. "I understand you enjoyed your little date."

            "What do you want?" Roxas mutters, eyes downcast. "What could you possibly want?"

            "Oh, but that isn't even the best part, Roxie…"

            Slipping a hand into his other pocket, Seifer retrieves several pieces of paper.

            Roxas' heart sinks, and he feels another sudden wave of nausea wash over him

            They're photographs, clearly depicting the rooftop incident with Hayner. Roxas’ eyes are drawn to the binoculars—remembering from somewhere the fact they have telephoto lens.

            "My, my, the way you two were going at it I could have sworn you were a couple. Oh, but wait…" Seifer bends over, leering into Roxas' gaze, "Doesn't Hayner have a girlfriend? It'd be a shame if she saw these… or heard what you and fatty were keeping from her. Why, I think these would just about destroy all four of your relationships."

            The bitter pinprick of tears sting at Roxas' eyes. What motive could Seifer have in all of this? What in this wide world does he want?

            That'd when it hits him.

            Everything fits into the puzzle, and that's when Roxas realizes…

            He's being blackmailed into submission once more.

            Knowing he's been defeated, Roxas lets the tears go. "You win, Seifer." He chokes out, "What do you want from me?"

            "Look up here, Roxas."

            Strangely enough, it's one of the few times Roxas has heard Seifer use his actual name. He obeys, humiliated that he's let himself shed tears—knowing the man doesn't deserve the satisfaction. Through a bleary gaze he watches as Seifer simply stares. He flinches when the man reaches toward him and brushes a hand through his hair.

            "Remember what I said?" His voice is low, calm… too calm. "How I've changed my mind? I've been struggling with this weird feeling, Roxas, ever since that tournament. What a coincidence, huh? I've been biding my time, waitin' for the next moment I could make you my silent punch doll. But something about seeing those little assholes all over you, watching you drop to your knees, almost like you were their property… it made me realize something. I want to own you. That feeling? Jealousy. I didn't have control over you anymore."

            Suddenly Seifer grips Roxas' hair, pulling his head back, and Roxas gasps. Seifer leans close, right next to his ear, and takes in Roxas' scent. Roxas begins to struggle, but Seifer hardly notices as he continues to relish the moment.

            "It took me so long to figure it out." He pulls back, and stares deep into Roxas' eyes. "God, you're like a little doll, you know? Your pretty little face, pretty pink lips," Roxas feels Seifer's fingers caress his lips and recoils. "Pretty little eyes, cute little body... I just want to tear you to pieces. You seem so fragile, but you're not. In fact, when I patrol with my binoculars I watch you. You sit on your roof like you're some kinda king, and fuck, it pisses me off every damn time. Your damn smug face, thinkin' you're better than the rest of us..." His grip tightens, and he grits his teeth. "But you're not. You're just like the rest of us, the same filth you tower over every day, just at a different height. And then I was doing my regular patrols the other day, and when I saw Hayner," He hisses the name, "all over you, then you all over him, watching you suck his cock… that's when I figured it out. I didn't want anyone else all over my property. I knew it'd require a lot to take you down, and this was my golden opportunity. I snapped those photos, and planned to get more dirt on you as soon as I could. I figured I'd get the photos, and get the spoken words, and everything would slide into place. And look where we are now."

            "So what?!" Roxas bites out, impatient from the proximity. "Am I your little pet now? Are you taking me from my friends? What do you want?!"

            Suddenly, there is a flash of light across Roxas' vision, followed by a painful stinging in his cheek. Seifer just slapped him, and while it isn't the worst hit Roxas has ever taken, it certainly caught his attention.

            "Don't you GET IT Roxas?!" Seifer grips the front of Roxas' vest, shaking him violently. "You got it when Hayner did it, you got it when Pence did it! So here's your fuckin' wake up call: it's YOU! I want YOU! YOU are MY property now!" Seifer pulls him close, and Roxas can feel the hot breath on his face. "And I get to do whatever I want with you. I will beat you, I will spit on you..." A cruel grin twists Seifer's face, "And I will especially FUCK you."

            The gravity of the situation finally settles on Roxas, and he is almost certain every organ in his body dropped into his stomach. This is what Seifer was planning? Roxas feels sick, more tears falling from his eyes, and he tries to pry Seifer's hands of his shirt. He needs to get out. If he's quick enough he could get up the stairs and out that window. Since Seifer is so close he could even escape onto the main concourse, though it's much riskier.

            But what about the pictures and tape recording?

            "Best part of all, you can have all the time with your friends you want. You can still laugh, and smile, and pretend like nothing ever changed. Then at the end of the day, when you've all parted ways, you're mine. And they wont know a single thing, because I can destroy all of you in less than a minute."

            Roxas imagines a metaphorical bomb being tied to him, but the thought is suddenly stripped away when he feels Seifer lick a tear from his cheek. It makes Roxas want to vomit, but at the same time, he gets an idea.

            "Okay Seifer. You win." He puts on his best defeated look, stomach turning, hoping what he will do next works. He stands, eyes cast elsewhere, as he lays his hands against the other man's broad chest. Seifer's hands fall to his sides in curiosity; Roxas knows Seifer loves being in control, so he plays the submission card as well as he can. He looks into his captor's eyes before pushing himself onto his tiptoes, supporting himself on the taller man's neck. Seifer watches Roxas with hungry eyes, licking his lips. "I'll be your... pet." Roxas whispers; it's sultry, but frightened, and Seifer is loving it. Roxas wishes he could just die right there before he continues with what he’s about to do.

            Roxas tilts his head up and lays a gentle kiss against Seifer's lips-face twisting in disgust. Everything is still for a moment, and after receiving no response, he pulls back in confusion. Seifer sees the questioning in Roxas' face, and smiles eerily.

            "I'm not convinced, Roxas." He sneers.

            Oh for the love of—

            "Here's a thought... kiss me like you kissed them. I'll do you one even better: do it, and I won't humiliate you for today. Deal?"

            Roxas is taken aback slightly. His original plan was to get Seifer really into the kiss, hit him in the nuts, grab the evidence and run. While that still seems like the ideal action, Seifer's proposal might keep the pictures safe and give more time for ample planning. Still-Roxas feels his stomach churn again—it seems too good to be true. It's really the only option so far that keeps him and his friends safe, but maybe once Seifer's guard is down he can take up the original plan. Some kissing is a small sacrifice for the well-being of his friends, even though Roxas will hate himself for technically cheating on Pence. Does that make him a hypocrite? He tries not to stress himself out with the details.

            Roxas takes a deep breath (it seems he's been doing that a lot lately).

            "Deal."

            Seifer looks down upon him smugly. "Go ahead then, pet."

            The word sends an unwelcome shiver through Roxas' spine, but he complies. He pushes himself back up to Seifer's level, closes his eyes and melds his lips against Seifer's once more. First he imagines how Hayner kissed him, and how he kissed back. Though the memory is painful, on top of the fact it's the reason why he's in this mess, he pushes those thoughts aside and focuses on his goal. He remembers the hands that explored him, how that bite brought him into the moment, and how...

            He slides his fingers into Seifer's hair beneath his hat, pulling him closer, his other hand gripping the taller man's jacket. He parts his lips, and flicks a tongue across Seifer's lips. It feels odd being the aggressor while Seifer is being purposefully unresponsive, so Roxas lets go of the jacket to drag his nails across Seifer's exposed collarbone; hoping to warrant a response. Seifer takes in a sharp breath of air through his nose before gripping onto Roxas' hips and kissing back. Feeling a little satisfied, Roxas scratches further and harder down Seifer's chest, and the taller man breaks away for a moment.

            "You wanna play rough?" Seifer growls, "Let's play rough."

            Seifer shoves Roxas back against the step and grinds into his hips. He maneuvers his tongue passed the smaller man's lips and Roxas grips Seifer's hair beneath his hat. Seifer grabs onto Roxas' backside to lift him onto the stair and force him onto his back. He breaks the kiss to drag his tongue from Roxas' chin up to his ear. Roxas can't help but moan as Seifer begins to bite at lick at his lobe while simultaneously roaming his hands across the smaller man's body. Seifer’s lower body is between his legs now, and he desperately tries to ignore the sensation of the taller man’s hips rolling hard into him. Seifer trails his mouth back up to Roxas’, biting and sucking at the bruised lips until Roxas parts them in discomfort for Seifer’s tongue, which is now hot and heavy in his mouth. Angry at the intrusion, Roxas maneuvers his hands under Seifer’s vestcoat to scrape his nails as hard as he can across Seifer’s shoulder blades.

            Inside, Roxas just wants this to be over with. More and more he feels ashamed and begins to question whether or not he can go back to his friends in good conscience; especially Pence. He feels a twang of guilt deep in his heart as he thinks of Pence, and wants nothing more than this whole ordeal to end.

            Just then, Seifer pulls back, and Roxas feels relieved it's over...

            Until he notices Seifer is unzipping his pants.

            "W-wait!" Roxas pleads, extremely confused. "I thought this is all we were going to do?!"

            "Changed my mind." Seifer sneers. "Plus, we didn't shake on it."

            Roxas feels his stomach drop, and a huge wave of panic washes over him. Going into fight-or-flight mode, he turns over and attempts to scramble up the stairs. He doesn't even make it halfway up the second stair before Seifer grabs him by the leg and yanks him back down. Roxas screams and begins to thrash for his freedom, but Seifer just continues to pull him closer, laughing all the while. Tears flow freely from Roxas' eyes as he feels Seifer yank down his pants. He's bent over the edge of the first stair now, ready to be taken.

            "PLEASE!" He screams, "I'M A—" He sobs, "I'm a..."

            "Go on Roxas. Say it." Seifer smiles, "I want to hear you say it: the best part about all of this."

            "I'm..." Roxas sobs again. "A virgin."

            He isn't ashamed of it, no... but to lose his virginity like this? To Seifer? To blackmail? To rape? He truly feels powerless, and that's exactly what Seifer wants.
            "I'm honored to be popping your cherry, Roxas." He feels Seifer's hands slither up his back, pushing up his shirt. The hands slide across his curves with lascivious intent, the touch hauntingly warm against the cool air. "Feels so good to finally break my little doll... my little pet..."

            Roxas can feel his boxers being pulled down, and he begins to shake in terror. He imagined this moment would be awkward, but fun. He wanted to lose his virginity to someone he trusts and cares about, and whofeels the same for him—not this scumbag. Roxas wishes so desperately that he could rewind time and take Pence up on walking him home. At the very least, he wishes he could go back to those heated moments with Hayner where he could have brought them to his room right away before silencing Hayner’s phone and losing his virginity then. They probably would have fucked all day if they could; sloppy and experimental and meaningless yet meaningful all the same. His deepest desires fulfilled while he got off on the disgusting thrill of secrecy as Hayner pounded him with wild abandon. At least that would be one or two less things for Seifer to torture him over… oh, how he would love to have seen the look on King Douche’s face when he spat out the words “You’re too late.” or “I’m not a virgin anymore.” It’s all just a daydream of hindsight now; he wants to fight, but what good will it do? He'll still get blackmailed, Seifer will still overpower him... if anything, the best thing to do is just wait for it all to be over.

            Still, he tries one last time.

            "Please stop," Roxas says, "Not like this..."

            His pleas go unheard, and Roxas hears Seifer spit into what he's certain is his palm. Shortly after, he feels Seifer’s cock pressing against his entrance, the tip warm and wet and willing. At least he lubed up first.

            He expects a sudden explosion of white-hot agony, but instead Seifer works his manhood in very gently, the tip stretching his hole a little more with each ministration. He would almost prefer Seifer ram in all at once so he wouldn’t have to bear the sensation of actually getting used to Seifer’s cock. It’s hard to breathe through the tightness in his throat as Seifer carefully rocks himself in deeper. Slowly, the intrusion begins to hurt, but the way Seifer is thrusting means he’s not even halfway in. Roxas tries not to let himself panic over how big Seifer actually is, and he can’t help the shuddering gasps as the painful sensation amplifies. Just then, Seifer leans down to whisper into his ear:

            "You're mine."
            One massive thrust leaves Roxas screaming, and he feels warm tears pour over his cheeks. He barely hears Seifer's groan of ecstasy as he begins to squirm beneath the taller man. Roxas is almost certain he's bleeding, the pain is so excruciating, but all he can do is hope it ends soon as he tries in vain not to think about it.

            "Fuck... so tight..." Seifer groans as he pushes in deeper, and Roxas feels an awful crawling sensation on his skin in response.

            Seifer is holding tight onto Roxas' hips and he begins to thrust deep at a regular pace. Roxas' isn't sure here his captor's cock begins or ends and his nails dig into the cold concrete below as he grits his teeth; making a pact with himself to not give Seifer the satisfaction of a response. As if on cue, a rather harsh thrust forces a yelp from Roxas' throat, and he sobs in frustration. The whole ordeal feels like an incredibly painful lifetime, and Roxas wishes he could just pass out or, better yet, wake up from this awful nightmare. He tries to shut out Seifer's groans and sighs, but they spin in his head like a tornado and won't go away.

            Now Seifer picks up the pace, and he grips onto Roxas' hair as he leans down to his ear again. "Say my name," He mutters huskily, "Say you want more."

            Roxas shakes his head the best he can under the conditions. Through gritted teeth he hisses out "Fuck you."

            There is a sudden, violent thrust, and Roxas cries out. "Say it." Seifer growls at him, "Right fucking now."

            "FUCK. YOU."

            Roxas feels Seifer's nails dig deep into his back before being dragged down painfully slow. Roxas groans in pain as Seifer forces himself in as deep as possible, gripping the smaller man's hair tightly.

            "You'll swallow my cum if you don't say it, fucker."

            Biting his lip, Roxas whimpers. As if this wasn't fucking humiliating enough...

            "S... Seifer," He whispers.

            "You know that's not good enough. Here Roxas, let me help you." The taller man starts going at an incredibly fast pace, and the pain shoots through Roxas like a bolt of electricity. "Say it!" He grunts.

            "S-Seifer!" Roxas cries out, "More!" He sobs, "More!"

            No more...

            After another few seconds, there is one long thrust and Roxas swears he feels a sudden warmth inside of him. His eyes go wide in realization, and his tears return without hesitation. Seifer pulls out, and Roxas is relieved up until he feels the cum dripping down his thighs. Pulling up his pants, Seifer lets out a satisfied sigh, and Roxas flinches when the taller man runs his hands over Roxas' backside.

            "Next time you'll be facin' me so I can see that pretty little face while I fuck you. Maybe I'll even grant you the privilege to suck my cock with your cute little mouth. Mmm, I almost can't wait... I want to see your pretty face covered in my cum." He gives Roxas' ass a heavy slap, before tossing his head back to laugh.
            Roxas hurriedly pulls his pants up, uncaring about the fluids running down his legs. He turns to leave, eyes cast at toward the floor.

            "Hey," Seifer stops him, forcing the smaller mans chin up. "The Sandlot. Saturday, 8pm. Be there." After a moment of hesitation, Roxas nods stiffly, and Seifer smirks before placing a rough kiss on the abused blonde's lips. "See you then, my little pet."

            Roxas wrenches from Seifer's grasp, and swiftly leaves without another word. He follows the neon signs through the Underground Concourse as fast as he can; he doesn't want to be around if Seifer a second longer than he has to. Finally entering the Back Alley, the first thing he notices is the strip of pinkish orange sitting on the horizon beneath the encroaching night sky. Quickly, he ventures through the alleyway beside his house, passing the fire escape before turning the corner to reach his front door. It's unlocked, of course; neither he nor his dad usually ever bother to lock it unless it's completely necessary.

            Is dad still awake?

            It is long passed the time where Roxas would have come home and either spent the rest of the night in his room or sneak out via the almost-as-usual spot. He isn't sure what his father does after that, since it always varies.

            Very gently, he opens the door and listens carefully through a small crack. All he can hear is the usual professional Struggle highlights. He mentally crosses his fingers, and enters the house as quietly as possible. Tiptoeing across the hallway, he peers around the corner to the couch. Sure enough, his dad is sitting there, watching the aforementioned program. Since Roxas can only see the back of his father's head, he isn't sure if he's awake or asleep. He bites his lip, knowing he could probably easily sneak up to his room since the stairs are right across from him.

            Instead, just to be sure, he calls out. "Dad? I'm home."

            His father twists around to look at him; surprisingly he looks more cleaned up than normal, and his eyes aren't as glazed over like they usually are.

            "Roxas, you're home later than usual." His voice sounds groggy, but strangely sober.

            "Yeah," Roxas steps out from behind the corner of the hallway, "I was just hanging out with my friends and the time got away from me."

            "Well, I'm glad you're home safe. I was a bit worried is all."

            Very confused, Roxas wants to ask if his dad is okay (perhaps make sure it's actually his dad, even), but instead he resolves to fall into the routine. "Is there anything I can get you before I go to bed?" he asks; a list of all the locations of his father's alcohol ready in his mind.

            "Water," his father says, "I'll have a water this time, Roxas."

            Curiouser and curiouser, Roxas thinks as he walks across the floor to the kitchen. He reaches into a cabinet, pulling out a glass before filling it with ice and water from the fridge. He returns to the couch, this time standing next to his father to hand him the glass.

            His father grasps it gratefully, "Roxas I want to tell you something." Roxas kneels down next to his dad, resting his elbow on the arm of the couch. "'This above all: to thine own self be true'. That was your mother's favorite quote. Shakespeare's Hamlet, I believe. I don't know why, I just had it on my mind. I wanted to share it with you."

            Roxas looks into his father's glassy eyes, searching for any signs of who the man once was so long ago. His eyes seem heavy with guilt and regret: a common sight in this poison-town. "Thank you, dad. That does sound like mom," Roxas smiles gently, "My favorite quote is 'All our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them'."

            "That's a good one. Where'd you hear that?"

            "The old guy who owns that little shop in town. He said a 'wise man' once said that... I'm not sure who that 'wise man' is, but it sounds like an accurate description."

            His father nods, "You make a good point, Rox."

            How long has it been since he's had a conversation like this with his father? Years, it seems. Perhaps back from when he was a child: the days before his mother hid bruises with her makeup, before Roxas would crawl into bed with his brother because the shouting from downstairs frightened him, and when the only alcohol in the house was the fine wine his parents saved for their anniversary. He looked deep into his father eyes; seeing the shards of a broken man who knew his son was just as broken because of it.

            "Dad," Roxas starts, "I love you, and no matter what, I want you to always remember that." Strangely, the words seems familiar, as well as the feeling they bring. A sad nostalgia creeps into Roxas' heart, and his eyes well up with tears.

            His father sips from the sweating glass and, looking into his son's suddenly gentle gaze, mutters, "Roxas, I love you too. I'm sor…" he pauses, "I… goodnight, son. Thank you for the water." For once in a very long time, his father has a soft smile on his face. Roxas does everything in his power to remember that small instance in every detail.

            "Goodnight dad."

            Roxas stands and proceeds toward the stairs and up to his bedroom. Once the door shuts behind him, he locks it. Practically ripping his clothing off, he runs into his bathroom to take a long shower. Stepping under the spout, he sets the temperature on the display and lets the hot water rush over him. Grabbing a bar of soap, he vigorously scrubs at his body as if he were intentionally trying to destroy his epidermis. No matter how red his skin gets, he still feels dirty down to his very core. Memories of the whole ordeal flash through his skull. He can feel the concrete against his face, hands gripping his hair, and the searing pain in his now-throbbing backside, so he scrubs harder and faster as Seifer fucks him harder and faster-

            Roxas feels the tears in his sore eyes, and they disappear against the cascade of water from above. He lets out a strangled wail, and falls to his knees, still scrubbing away. He just wants to disappear. He never wants to see this place again. No one can save him now, and for the first time in his life, Roxas legitimately wants to die. Finally, he lets go of the soap and pulls his knees to his chest with a heavy sigh. At this point, it seems like the grave is his only escape.

            Then it dawns on Roxas.

            He still has Dusk City.

            Standing up, Roxas turns off the spout but doesn't even bother to towel off as he leaves his bathroom. What did Pence say? The one train for this month is coming on Thursday? Roxas reaches under his bed and pulls out the satchel. Checking inside, he takes out this month's train schedule and confirms the information: Thursday, July 4th, at 7 am. He reaches under again, this time brandishing the backpack containing his laptop.

            It's time to set his plan in motion.
            Through the whole night, Roxas had tied up all the necessary loose ends before his long-awaited adventure. He applied for early graduation online, and was accepted within a few hours thanks to his extensive credits and his high school's cutting edge online system. Shorty after, he received a follow-up, automated email declaring they would send him his student transcript and official high school diploma in the mail. Not a moment after that, he's signing his final letter: the one for his dearest friends. He takes the time to make sure his autograph is perfect, for whatever reason. Maybe it is for him to feel less bad about leaving, maybe it is to give his friends something to remember him by... but he choses to leave the thought up in the air. Now is not the time to second-guess himself. After skimming over his letters (one to his friends, the other to his father, both handwritten), he takes a deep breath and deems them satisfactory. More importantly, genuine.

            Checking the clock Roxas sees that it's already 8 pm. Writing these letters took all of Tuesday night into Wednesday evening, but they were certainly worth the effort. Looking over to his bed, Roxas stares at the cloak draped across it's surface. Beside it sits a wooden lacquered box, his backpack, and satchel. The coat is black as the night, and is almost foreboding; part of Roxas wonders if he would look like a shadow, similar to the way Axel did as the lanky man practically coasted around Twilight Town.

            He packs up his computer in the backpack, and includes his dirty clothes from yesterday in a separate plastic baggie. Touching them, even through the plastic, feels revolting, but there can be no evidence of the ordeal left behind if he wants at least a whisper of dignity left in his wake. He can dispose of them once he reaches Dusk City, and that can be his own personal baptism of the past.
            Roxas lifts the coat off the bed, and pulls it on over his arms and shoulders. Zipping it up, he immediately feels as if he is being held in a snug embrace. While form-fitting, the cloak is also very flexible and extremely comfortable, which is a definite plus. Roxas is not sure what this job offer entails, or what position he will take, but at least the uniform is cozy. Just for fun, he does a little spin and feels the coat swirl around him gracefully; very confident about the new "look" that will accompany his new life.
            Finally he feels he is ready to pack his remaining belongings. He arranges his clothes inside the main compartment of the backpack around his computer, and slides the satchel into an exterior pocket of the backpack after pocketing the prepaid cellphone in his cloak. Roxas opens the lacquered box-his keepsake box-to double-check it's contents. A framed portrait of his family from when he was a child, a polaroid of him and his friends from when he was 15, the blue orb taken from the Struggle trophy, a silver necklace in the shape of an X passed down through his family, Axel's business card, and the note that came with his cloak in the mail. He puts the card and note in his coat pocket before packing the box away. Next, he lifts the mattress to scoop all the munny into his backpack before returning it to the bed base.

            After leaving the letter to his father taped to his bedroom door, Roxas used his window to reach the almost-as-usual spot, then the fire escape to get to the Usual Spot. He pins the letter to his friends on the dart board with a dart, and after one last reminiscent look at the Usual Spot, leaves for Station Plaza with his hood pulled over his face.

            At Central Station, Roxas approaches the ticket booth agent, who is obviously drowsy and probably unused to the graveyard shift.

            "Good evening," The man drones, "What can I do for you?"

            "Can I get one ticket for the 7 o'clock train into Dusk City?" Roxas slides the required amount of munny into the glass opening, careful to hide his face. Just as he wonders if the man is too tired to notice or care about his destination, the agent sits up in his seat and takes on a ghostly pallor.

            "D-Dusk City?!" He splutters, suddenly much more awake, "I... um... of course sir!" He takes the munny and punches in the details on the register beside him. "Since you're going into the city we don't need a blood sample. Please note that if-" He coughs nervously, "when you come back, you will have to give a blood sample for our records and for the safety of Twilight Town." He prints out the ticket.

            "I understand," Roxas says, feeling almost bad for startling the man. At least he gave the guy an interesting turn of events after what appears to be a slow shift. Perhaps it'll be an interning story to bring home to his family, or to gossip about with his coworkers over the next break.

            "Good luck... and uh, goodnight, sir." The agent mutters as if solemnly bidding farewell to a dying friend. He slides the ticket toward Roxas, still visibly shaken. "Please hold onto your ticket and enjoy your ride."

            He takes the ticket and goes to sit in the waiting lobby adjacent from the train platform for the rest of the night. Central Station is always open 24 hours a day since the trains travel all over the world.

            With time to kill, and nothing left on his agenda, he decides to call Axel. He takes his phone and Axel's card from his pockets and dials the number printed neatly at the bottom. As the dial tone drones on, he takes a moment to look over the design of the sturdy paper in hand. Roxas grimaces.

            Flames.

            "Uh, hello?" Comes a groggy voice from the phone.

            "Axel?" Roxas answers, albeit more urgently than even he expected. His voice is somewhat hoarse since he hasn't spoken a word all day, and after clearing his throat, he continues. "It's Roxas."

            "Roxas!" Suddenly, Axel's voice is full of energy. "It's nighttime but you finally called! How have you been?"

            Glancing at the analog clocks hanging throughout the station, each noting the time of various places all over the world, Roxas sees that it's only been a couple hours since he last looked at the time.

            "I didn't call too late at night did I? Were you asleep?"

            "Just taking a catnap between shifts, buddy. Don't worry about it, I have way later nights than this. In fact, just the other day—"

            "Axel," Roxas cuts in, feeling impatient. "Sorry to interrupt but I don't have a lot of minutes on this phone. Something happened... so I'm on my way to Dusk City."

            There is a brief pause. "Which train?" Axel asks, voice far more serious now.

            "The 7 am one. It's the soonest I can get."

            "I'll be at the station waiting for you. See you then."

            "Okay. Thanks—" but the other man hangs up before the word goes through, and Roxas sighs.

            The next several hours Roxas spent in a trance. He listened to the light noises of the destination prompters, and practically memorized every detail of all the advertisements playing on the screens around him. Very few trains came, and very few people passed by, and not a single gaze paid him mind. Roxas would have let himself fall asleep if it weren't for terrible memories jolting him awake from his dreams. Roxas at one point even wished he would have visited the tower sitting atop the train station one last time, but he knew it would simply put too much strain on his heart.

            After one big blur of time and exhaustion, the destination prompter chimed and the electronic voice finally spoke the words he'd been waiting to hear: "Dusk City train now arriving for 7 o'clock departure."

            Stiffly, Roxas rises and watches the train pull up to the platform. Surprisingly, it doesn't look ominous or spooky, and he doesn't even hear the funeral march play in his head. It looks like any other train... at least from the outside. The only notable difference is the train only has two passenger cars, whereas almost all of the trains that pull into the station have at least six.

            The passenger car’s doors slide open and Roxas opts to enter the one closest to himself. As he steps on board, he finds himself in awe. The interior is far different from any train he had ever ridden before: red velvet stretched across ornate wooden benches sitting in rows, golden curtains draped over the windows, gothic sconces at every row, and even red carpeting lining the floors. This is certainly far from the drab, beat-up trains he's ridden over his life. Crossing quickly over to the end of the car, he looks through the glass in the door to see the other car is the same, but with flipped seats and matching tables between; plus what looks to be a bar sitting at the far side. A dining car.

            Glancing around, Roxas looks for an acceptable seat on the completely-empty train. Picking a spot up front, he huddles up close to the window. Taking a deep breath, he pulls the note he received with his cloak from his pocket and glances over it a few more times. After a few moments, the electronic voice announces the train is departing, and he feels his heart grow heavy. Solemnly, he watches the station with memories swimming in his head: he remembers running up those steps by the ticket booth to climb the clock tower, eating sea salt ice cream at sunset with his friends, the gross knot he would always get in his stomach if he looked down from that height, and the joy of being so far above all the chaos below. He shut his eyes. His favorite moment up there would have to be after the struggle tournament, when he pulled off the orbs of the trophy he won. Hayner, Pence, Olette, and Roxas, all holding up their little spheres, which glinted in the light of the setting sun.

            Freedom.

            It is then that Roxas is finally able to fall asleep. He doesn't stir when the train pulls out of the station, and doesn't have a chance to watch the building disappear from sight. All he needs in the wake of a new life are the happy memories in his head. The first step toward his future is in his hand; the note that simply reads

            Welcome to the Organization.
            7 pm, and Olette stiffly enters the emptiness of the Usual Spot, eyes hopeful. "Roxas?" She calls out, but she receives no answer. Hayner and Pence step out from behind the fading red curtain at the entrance to stand by her side. One good look at Olette gives both boys all the answers they need.

            "He's not here either..." Hayner sighs. "We've checked everywhere, where could he possibly be?!" Casting a frustrated green gaze at Pence, Hayner asks "Are you sure that's the very last place you saw him?"

            "I swear, he was heading home through the Sandlot. I've told you this like six times already!" Pence doesn't mean to raise his voice, but the hunt for Roxas is taking a toll on all three of the tired, upset teens. No one was answering the door at Roxas' home, nobody in town had seen him, Sunset Terrace had no leads, they'd checked the almost-as-usual spot twice... and yet there was no sign of him anywhere. This was their first check of the Usual Spot, but still nothing to be gained.

            "Let's just calm down, okay?" Olette chimes in, folding her arms and staring intently at her friends. Even her exhaustion is showing, despite her demeanor. "We can't turn against each other now, there are plenty of places we haven't looked. We could check the forest, for starters."

            "There's also the underground concourse." Pence adds, "Where else haven't we checked?"

            Hayner takes a shot in the dark. "What about the beach?"

            Pence shakes his head, "He couldn't afford a train ticket."

            "We can't rule out the possibility!" The green-eyed boy tosses his arms up in exasperation, "We should look there anyway!"

            "Don't you think if he were at the beach there would have been more people who spotted him?" Pence shot back, "Some of the people we talked to had just been there and they didn't see him."

            "Pence, unless I see or don't see him with my own two eyes, I don't care! We should go!"

            From of the corner of her eye, Olette spots something out of the ordinary. "You guys?" She attempts to pipe in, turning to watch the boys slowly closing in on one another.

            "It'll be a waste of time and munny, Hayner! We're better of starting small!"

            "What does time or munny matter in a situation like this?! We have to find Roxas!"

            "Guys..." Olette tries again, to no avail. She approaches a paper pinned to the dartboard while the other two are yelling in each other's faces.

            "What, do you think I don't want to?! We have to manage ourselves better than that, Hayner, and you know it!"

            "I don't care how we do it, we have to make sure Roxas is okay by any means—"

            Suddenly, the paper is between them, and both boys rear back in confusion.

            "Are you two done?" She asks gravely, "I want to read this letter. It's from Roxas." Hayner and Pence both fall silent, signifying their full attention, and Olette begins to read aloud.

            "To the greatest friends I could ever ask for, AKA Hayner, Pence, and Olette...

            I'm thinking of you, wherever you are. I pray for your sorrow to end, and your hearts to blend, but now I must step foreword to realize my own wish. For many years, a whole lifetime it seems, we've grown together through hardships and fun times. My life was made complete by this friendship and our unbreakable bonds. When my mother was gone, you three were there; when my brother was gone, you three were there; when my father was "gone", you three were still there, no matter what. My gratefulness is eternal, and I wish I could give back to you what you gave to me. However, it is time for me to go now. Twilight Town, this life of mine... I cannot bear it any longer. I cannot live in this state of constant fear and sadness; my heart is heavy with shame, regret, and betrayal. I have to vanish from this place, though my goodbye is sudden. Who knows? Starting a new journey without me by your side may not be so hard... by the time you read this, it has already begun. There are many worlds out there, but they all share the same sky. With one sky comes one destiny, and that destiny connects us all.

            Farewell,
            Roxas."

Exeunt
A/N: Yes, the letter is very cliche rip from the game, BUT I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE A NICE THROWBACK SHADDUP.
This was probably the hardest chapter of them all to write because of that scene... I was debating whether or not to take it out, but it really is essential to the plot. For those of you who have been sexually assaulted or raped, I do apologize for any offence and I wish you the best. Hopefully you skipped to the end of the trigger warning, but please note I do not take any responsibility if you ignored the trigger warning—what you choose to read is your choice alone and I respect you for it. Sexual assault and rape can happen to anyone of any race, gender, and age; no one deserves to go through such trauma, and no one deserves to be shamed for it for any reason. If you’d like more information about abuse, please visit my author profile and look under the Additional Resources section.
On a less societal note, in the next chapter we finally get to meet our second protagonist, and then see his story unfold. Excited!? I know I am!

In the meantime, I have a question for you guys: who do you think Roxas' parents are? Their identities have yet to be revealed (that comes way later), but for now I'm curious to hear your impressions.

Final note to any confused readers: This IS a Soroku fanfiction! We're getting to that soon, you guys. I promise! Please don't forget to leave a review or follow the story!
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Please favorite, follow, and review! I will also happily take positive constructive criticism! I am always looking to improve my writing. Thank you!
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The Night