Everyone Needs a Break [open]

A breeze swept over the tower, banishing the silence for a merciful instant. In the moment that followed, creeping vines rolled along the ledge, coagulating into a single, writhing pool of black that spread upward into a sizzling portal beside Lea. Its surface shimmered with darkness and its borders wriggled, forged from some dark sort of television static that bit at the air around it. It wasn't long before a flash of light pierced through the corridor's heart and the entire thing went white, replaced by the light of an approaching heart and the seashell charm affixed to its neck.

Roxas stepped free of the portal and it died behind him, fizzling into a sea of white flecks that died like embers in the wind. His fingers were clasped tightly around the charm Naminé gave him, which glittered between the gaps left by his fingers. The first thing he did was exhale and stuff the charm back into his shirt, apparently unaware of the presence beside him.

It had been a long day.

Fighting in Thebes. A chase through Paris. Then there was the lion-like Heartless in the Dwarf Woodlands that had literally kicked him through a building to think about — and he still hadn't met back up with Ven, who he was pretty sure needed his help for something or another. Really, if Sora were just around, his life would've been a thousand times easier. Then he could've taken a break, maybe basked in the twilight of his home for a little bit longer. Twilight Town was the only place he ever really felt safe and secure, barring the times he found solace in his friends during the moments between crises.

Beneath the clock tower, the entire world spread out before him like a blanket. Around its borders, a familiar train ran circuits, tracing the outline of the town he knew so well. Within its confines, children ran and played, their hearts unburdened by the wars being waged in the stars and the darkness in the hearts of other worlds. Old men swept on street corners and shopkeeps chased fat cats away from back alleys, unaware of the blonde boy looking down on them from on high.

In those moments, he felt a little bit like an angel, but he felt more like a bird. Without a sense of direction to carry him forward, he'd been following the urging of his friends, what they insisted was destiny. He was constantly flying south, following the winds and the places their hearts took him.

Roxas hadn't taken his seat yet when he cast a wistful glance to his side.

Axel was already there waiting for him, the specter in his thoughts. The red-head looked so real that Roxas could hardly believe his memory to be another phantom. It was difficult to resist the urge to reach out and touch his old friend, make amends for the things he'd said and the callous way he'd left him behind... and to thank him, for trying so desperately to save him from the virtual prison he'd been trapped in.

Then, ready to look away and return to his silent vigil over the city, he caught the scent of sea-salt.

His breath caught in his throat.

Axel's hand crept toward him, waging a desperate war of inches that Roxas was sure that they would somehow lose. When the other man's hand came to rest on his shoulder, Roxas fought the urge to lunge forward and wrap him up in a bear hug. It was too convenient, too good to be true. The blonde's fingers curled into half-balled fists at his waist as he took his best friend in, visually. He looked almost exactly like he should've, with a crown of fiery hair that jutted out in spokes as if it were a sun of its own. There was only one discernible difference; the telltale marks that usually dotted his cheeks were gone, replaced by empty flesh.

Axel's words nearly fell on deaf ears.

They may as well have.

The hug that followed caught him off guard and his hands rose up to pull Axel in. They stopped just short, lingering around the other man's hips as if touching him might make him disappear.

Roxas said nothing, transfixed by the sight before him and the lingering sensation of the gloved fingers that graced his shoulder. Axel had already withdrawn when Roxas's fingers rose up to touch the same spot, as if by recreating the sensation he could see through the phantasm that lived and breathed before him. The last he knew of Axel was of the other man's demise, the dream that precipitated his reunion with Sora. It was the memory of the man he knew that gave him the courage to return to where he thought he belonged.

He wanted so desperately to call out and say something that meant something. Watching the dejection return to his best friend's face put him in such pain that he couldn't help himself. Roxas surged forward, wrapping his best friend up in a hug that would've broken anybody else's ribs. He buried his head in Axel's chest, hiding the shame and the fear and the doubt and the tears that brimmed in the corners of his eyes. He'd thought that the other man was lost for so long that he hadn't even considered what he might do when they were reunited.

Roxas pulled away for an instant, eyes plastered to Axel's face... and then hauled off and aimed a punch right at the older man's arm.

For a second, he just glared at him, so lost for words that he knew no place to begin. Then, face still dominated by worry and frustration and anger and subtle relief, Roxas turned his eyes to the sunset.

"You scared me," he managed. "With all that — with what you said, when we fought."

Roxas paused, now aware of how to continue.

"Do you know how hard it was not to call you an idiot? If I had a next life... well, it'd suck without you. When I thought you were dead, I..."

He'd nearly killed Sora, determined to test the other boy's might and take another run at the Organization himself. The memory of his final battle with his counterpart was wrought with tension and anger and mixed emotion. It was difficult to parse, even so far from the moment in question.

"And then there was that dream."

He only vaguely remembered it. The details were blurry around the edges, but standing at their usual spot, it was hard not to recall bits and pieces. The serenity and the way it had quelled the fear in his heart, the uncertainty and the resolve that washed it all away. He wondered if Axel remembered it the same way he did, if he remembered it at all. Roxas was certain that it must've been a hallucination, a reminder from his conscience in a time of division that threatened to tear him apart.

More than that, he remembered the feeling even then, the subtle tugging in his would-be heart that told him they were ghosts waiting to disappear.

"You told me that it was all gonna be alright," he said. "And that it was time to go back where I belonged."