Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/505980.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major
      Character_Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Other
  Fandom:
      Kingdom_Hearts
  Relationship:
      Axel/Roxas, Cloud_Strife/Leon, Demyx_&_Roxas, Demyx/Zexion, Kairi/Naminé,
      Riku/Sora, Terra/Ventus
  Character:
      Axel_(Kingdom_Hearts), Roxas, Demyx, Sora, Riku_(Kingdom_Hearts), WAY
      MORE
  Additional Tags:
      Romance, Adventure, Circus, Sci-Fi
  Series:
      Part 1 of Marked
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-07-26 Updated: 2014-11-11 Chapters: 4/? Words: 24638
****** What Happens When You're Lonely ******
by Jaeforthebirds
Summary
     Roxas only remembers his last 5 years; he doesn't understand who he
     is or why he ended up in a city of pathological liars. He just knows
     that when the circus comes to Hallow Bastion, he feels something
     other than bitterness and confusion for the first time in his short
     memory.
     Edit: This fic is long over, I had high goals for it but it was never
     finished, enjoy the first few chapters!
***** Chapter 1 *****
                                   Chapter_1
“Hey! Have you even been listening?” Roxas glanced up from his hands. No, he
hadn’t. Shuffling nervously, he attempted to make good with the tempered woman
beside him.
“Yeah, I have, on and off...” He sighed. Why even bother pretending to be a
good friend? He guessed it was because everyone else around him attempted to
cover his or her true nature up. When in Rome, he would think.
“God, Roxas, it’s not like your hands are even that important. Geez. Now, as I
was saying...” Roxas inwardly grimaced. It was just another boring discussion
on the circus coming to Hollow Bastion. He didn’t get the excitement – what was
so thrilling about seeing a bunch of people running around in sparkly outfits
and bending their bodies like pretzels? It was almost depressing to think that
counted as entertainment.
“You’re doing it again!”
“I’m doing what again?”
“Spacing out, duh!”
“Sorry, Olette,” Roxas mumbled, trying his hardest not to punch the pretty girl
in the face. For all of Olette’s glossy brown hair and flawless skin, she could
be a bitch to deal with sometimes. Or maybe she was just a bitch? She tried to
act all caring and motherly, but at times she just came out sounding plastic.
“Well, whatever! Come on, we have to meet the guys.” Waving her hands about in
sudden urgency, Olette gripped Roxas’ hand and began dragging him through the
grim streets of Hollow Bastion. As they slipped past sketchy merchants and
foggy alleyways, the city’s inner chamber was revealed to them with all the
sticky heat of boxed in walls, graffiti covered poles and unreliable street
food. It’s not that Roxas truly hated the city itself – there were ideal homes,
convenient shopping, and loads of jobs available – but the people there were
the worst. And he had to live with them, all their fake ideals and fantasies.
To him, the city was just a crowd of people’s mismatched lives shoved into one
large holding box until they got over whatever was plaguing them and moved onto
happier, more carefree lives in a nice town somewhere. For Roxas, the glorious
metropolis of Hollow Bastion with its shining pipes and golden trim was just a
fancy prison.
“We’re here!” Olette screeched in delight, skipping up to a large grey brick
building. “Oh, my God, I’m so excited to get the guys and finally see this
circus!” She flapped her arms in glee and danced a little. Olette had been
planning and scheming to get her band of boys to the circus for weeks now,
slowly prodding and pushing Hayner, Pence and Roxas closer to caving into her
idea. The boys had been reluctant at first, but slowly and surely they gave in.
Roxas was the last to fall, reluctant to agree before the others had lost. So,
as Olette continued with her cutesy look again, Roxas could do nothing but sigh
remorsefully and watch his friend act like a bubble gum princess. If it were
anyone else watching, it might have been endearing. However, her captive
audience only consisted of Roxas and watching Olette just made Roxas want to
hang himself.
“Hey, guys!” a voice called from farther away, snapping Olette out of her song
and dance and Roxas from his musings. “Hope you didn’t wait long!” A boy with a
chubby frame and sloppy greased up hair ran towards them, a huge camera
clutched in his hands. A brawny looking blonde kid trailed from behind, looking
pissed. “If it wasn’t for Mr. Gaylord over here having to have his hair
perfectly gelled, we would have been here way earlier,” the brunette continued,
adopting his ‘this is all a joke!’ voice.
“Oh, Pence, stop with all the kidding around!” Olette giggled. “I mean, really,
I know you and Hayner are the best of friends!”
Roxas eyes his friends sceptically behind a fake grin of hello. Pence had
always been kind of passive aggressive.
“Yeah, man!” Hayner cried, slapping Pence on the back. “Don’t be stupid!” And
Hayner had always been kind of dumb.
Roxas rolled his eyes; this was going to be a long day.
OOO
As they walked along the city street, Roxas listened to the ‘banter’ between
his friends. The laughs and smiles all appeared so false, so ready to change on
him at any given moment. But Roxas would never let it happen. He put on his own
mask, his own ‘joking’ remarks, and faced them with the same eerie cheeriness
that his friends gave him. Behind every smile, every word, he could taste
poison. He could feel their malicious intent hidden under the surface of
everything they muttered. It was like that for everyone in the city. Like a
curse hung thick in the air around the walls, heavy with ordinate copper pipes
corroded with time. Roxas often wondered that, as the city deteriorated, were
the people also following suit? In this place, were people born with a toxin?
Maybe, because he was born somewhere else, he wasn’t affected by it. Maybe it
made him safe. He glanced casually at one of the many fountains in the city,
trash drifting about its base, water murky. This place was once beautiful,
Roxas thought sadly. But it fell, as all cities fall, into the grubby and
greedy hands of its people. Roxas tuned to face his friends, the people of the
city, and just like every other time he felt unrest. He wanted out.
Unfortunately, he was trapped.
He looked to the dimming skyline, wondering if someone else out there had it
worse than him.
OOO
“It’ll all be over soon, it’ll all be over soon...”
In the dark, a boy whispered to himself as he felt the heavy thud of footsteps
on the floor that he lay upon. He reached out, stretching his fingers over the
concrete of the floor and slowly scraping his palm against the rough surface.
He’d endure any pain to take his mind off what was about to happen again and
again and again.
He felt a dull pain and it dawned on him – it was happening again, he was being
touched again by those hands that he could feel even when he was alone. He let
a tear slip out as his cheek was forced against the floor with each soft rock
of his body.
“I-it’ll-”
“Shut up,” he keeper grunted, swinging his arm and lazily stuffing a sock into
the boy’s mouth. The boy froze, concentrating on breathing through his nostrils
to save himself from suffocation. The man’s hands began to wander along his
skin’s surface, prodding and touching.
“I’m not good enough for you, eh?” his captor said, running his hand over the
boy’s limp form. “I’m not enough? Well, fuck you!” The rocking grew harder,
heavy pants and gasps the only sound outside of wet slapping filling the air.
It’ll all be over soon, it’ll all be over soon, the boy thought frantically.
Tears escaped from his eyes, sliding down the side of his face and hitting the
floor with distinct plops. Eventually, the rocking slowed and the boy was
thrown to the side, sobbing through his makeshift gag. It was over.
“Heh, pathetic,” the man said, throwing his hair over his shoulder. As he
turned to go, he stopped before gazing at the boy’s crumpled form and smirking
maliciously. “It’ll never be over. You’re mine for life.”
The boy had stopped caring to listen, though, and didn’t even feel the pain as
he was tugged from the ground by the shackles that were clasped tightly on his
bony wrists. He slumped further down to the floor like a loose puppet; the
world was nothing to him but a dark basement, icy concrete and the slow trail
of blood trickling down his legs.
For hours he lay in the dark, waiting for the throbbing to stop and the world
to slow. If only he could move... If only he could just end it. But, no; the
man fed him, kept him alive, just so he could tear out another piece of his
soul. Maybe it really would never be over. It wasn’t like he remembered
anything but this dark basement and his own thoughts, but even those slipped
away each time the man fed him. Something was in his food, something to keep
him weak.
He stood on quaking legs and felt the walls around him. They were smooth and
unmarred, a stark contrast to his own bruised flesh. He gazed with envy at the
walls and their flawless complexion. He was so dirty, so dented now. He wished
he could melt into the wall’s pristine surface and just be an insignificant
smear. Something inside himself, though, wouldn’t let him die. His enduring
soul was clinging to life in his captivity. How long had it been? Months?
Years, even? He should be dead. His mind was dying, but his body was kept
animated by his own damned nature.
What am I?
He didn’t feel old. In fact, he felt young; his body was lean, his hair thick
and his lips full. It seemed like being held in captivity had only changed his
hygiene, not his appearance. His will was broken, but his flesh was yet to
yield.
He sat up and tried to remember, tried to think of what he was besides a mere
boy. Was he something he shouldn’t be? Was he something wrong? No, no. He felt
right. Maybe he was dead. Was he in hell? He searched, begged the blank slate
that was his mind for answers, and for once something came.
Green grass, lush and thick.
Soft wind.
Someone’s blissful laughter.
A hand running nimbly through his hair...
A great sadness.
His eyes fluttered open, returning to the present. But what was it he had
remembered? Tilting his head back to rest on the damned perfect wall, it soon
donned on him that he still had the makeshift gag shoved in his mouth. He
tugged it out gingerly and, now free of the restraint, began to sing.
“The vampire flees across the mountains of Romania,
Holding a lifeless form close to its chest.
White doves, scared to follow, in reverence,
And fae sing their sorrow.”
What it meant, the boy chained to the wall did not know... Why did he know this
song? Was it important to him? Remembering was becoming harder and harder, his
consciousness fading quickly, and yet the boy did not want to forget.
“I’ll write it down then,” he mumbled to himself and, dragging his fingertip
across the cement covered floor, he used a trail of his own blood to write down
the only thing he could remember.
S... O... R... A...
OOO
“Oh, hey, we’re here!” Pence said, bobbing his head agreeably. “I think
something’s wrong, though...”
Before Roxas was a towering white tent, gold trimming along the entrance flaps
and shining golden poles holding the flowing fabric sturdy in the slight
breeze. It was... magnificent. Roxas held his breath in, and resisted the
sudden urge to reach out and touch the shimmering white fabric. Craning his
neck forward, he let a small amount of childlike wonder slip into his face;
this wasn’t what he was expecting. Nodding, Roxas could only blindly reassure
himself that looks could be deceiving.
“Oh!” A petite girl with dozens of honey blonde braids among her hair skittered
towards them out of the golden ticket booth situated outside of the entrance.
Worry was creasing her heart shaped face. “Um, we had to postpone today’s
show... There were some issues with setting up the tent.” She shifted, darting
her eyes about nervously and tugging at her blue headband. “Sorry for your
inconvenience!”
Roxas cheered internally. He was going to get out of this after all! To the
others it just appeared as though his eyes were glazed over in disappointment,
not juvenile glee. They didn’t even notice his slight smirk.
“But we pre-ordered tickets!” Olette cried, hands on hips and becoming angrier
by the second. “You better give us a damn fine refund if you’re going to treat
us like this!”
“Oh, um, well...” the girl stuttered. “I’ll go get someone more prominent for
you to speak with!” she squeaked and rocked herself back into the safety of the
huge shimmering tent looming behind her, leaving the golden ticket booth all
but abandoned.
The minutes ticked by, and Olette became increasingly more annoyed with each
passing second. She flipped her hair around and swore a bit under her breath as
she paced in front of the huge circus entrance.
“You know, I only said what I did for our own good, guys,” she bit out. “I was
just looking out for the group.”
“We know you were, Olly,” Pence said, showing his distaste for the situation by
using Olette’s long hated nickname.
“Aw, thanks, Pence!” Olette gushed, fake cheeriness returning. She greedily
accepted her compliment, fake or otherwise.
Hayney grunted next to Roxas, lolling his head to the side to see if he was as
ready to leave as Roxas was. Roxas slid his eyes to meet the other boy’s,
giving him an imploring look. Hayner rose.
“Come on, guys. Let’s just get out of here. The show can’t be that good.”
“No!” Olette cried, wheeling around. “I went and put myself out on a limb for
you. You are not going anywhere until the bimbo comes back!” The group stared,
and Roxas did his best not to smirk at the girl’s slip up of personas. Today
was turning out to be okay. Until, of course, the group was disrupted from
their inner squabbling by a tall shadow that was cast over their huddle.
“Now, Miss. Rikku told me you had an inquiry about tickets?” The newcomer
smiled, flipping his long pink hair behind himself. Roxas stared at the tall
man before him, taking in the floppy layers of, well... Pink. In addition to
his outlandish hair, he had the most piercing blue eyes, and skin so pale and
clear it looked to be a doll’s. Roxas could only sum up the man’s appearance as
being... Other worldly. Combined with the man’s thin frame under his charcoal
suit, Roxas had to wonder if the circus was feeding him.
“Oh, well...” Olette had begun to speak again in a way akin to stuttering;
stuttering when Olette was in über-bitch mode was something almost unheard of
to Roxas. Immediately, he flipped his head to the side to make sure it was
really his friend talking.
“W-we bought tickets for your show-” Her sentence was never finished, as one
slender white finger had been placed upon her lips.
“Say no more!” the man said dramatically, throwing his spare arm into the air
for effect. “I shall arrange for you to have front row seats at our next
performance in the morrow!” His sweeping eyes connected with hers. “It is my
promise.” And with that the tall man bent down, placed a delicate kiss on her
hand, and promptly swept himself away in steady, fast strides towards the tent.
“Ri-kku!” he sang out, “I need four front row seats for these lovely
customers!” And with a twirl he was gone, disappearing, like the blonde before
him, into the enveloping folds of the tent in a dramatic flourish.
It was only after the flowery man’s presence had disappeared that Roxas
returned to looking at his friends. Pence and Hayner were dumfounded, and
Olette looked like someone had just asked her to be the queen, all smiles and
rosy blush. Roxas looked about in wonder. What had just happened to them? Were
they just visited by an angel, or a prostitute? Before he had a chance to
wonder about it any further, the aforementioned Rikku popped back out of the
tent, skipping joyously towards them as if she had a new lease on life.
“Here you are, Miss and Sirs!” she chirped. “I hope to see you front and centre
tomorrow night!” And with that she pivoted, and with one leap hopped onto the
top of the golden ticket booth. Roxas’ eyebrows shot up. Did she just jump six
feet?he wondered mutely. He turned to his friends to ask them if what he just
saw was real, but realized all too soon that they were already heading back
into the bowels of the city. Roxas scurried, trying to catch up, but not before
turning around one more time to see Rikku, grinning like a maniac on top of the
ticket booth, give him a wink.
“Maybe the show will be more interesting than I thought,” he murmured to
himself, before picking up his pace again and crying, “Hey, guys! Wait up!”
OOO
Fidgeting nervously, Roxas stared at a tawny brick building. He knew that very
soon he’d have to pick up his balls and walk up the icy metal stairs, through
the perfectly beige lobby and finally into the wrought iron elevator that
always made him sick. Not many things in the city of Hollow Bastion were iron.
Copper was the preferred metal to be worked with, from piping to street poles
to bar signs. The city was at least a hundred and fifty years old, so Roxas
could only figure that was the reason for the gothic style buildings.
He had only been in the city for five years. He had been found abandoned at a
bus stop at only thirteen years old, and Roxas often wondered what his life had
been like before Hollow Bastion. Had he truly been so insignificant that
someone could just leave him alone to die? He shuddered, pulling himself out of
the darker thoughts he’d been stewing in and tried to pull himself back to the
present day. Every once in a while he would slip into a deep pondering of his
past, and his therapist had told him he should try and snap out of it as soon
as possible. Sometimes, though, Roxas didn’t listen and instead welcomed the
thoughts that left him stuck staring numbly at the steps to his apartment as he
was now.
“Boy! You’re doing it again!” the doorman cried from above him. “Snap out of
it, now, and come on inside where it’s cooler.”
Whipping his head up, Roxas hurried up the steps quicker than normal and in
doing so tripped and fell hard on his knee.
“Shit,” he cussed quietly, looking for blood. He was greeted with a thin
purpling bruise next to a pink scar he had on his knee from a bike accident two
years ago. He hated that scar, and everyone was going to see it more than ever
now that it was surrounded by a bruise.
Something in the universe must have been telling him not to go into the cool
serenity of the lobby. He sighed, getting up anyway and leaving the smog and
humidity of mid August behind him.
Regretting passing the doorman wordlessly, Roxas turned around and gave the man
a quick wave and smile, which the man dutifully returned. He could lie and
smile until he was blue in the face, but Roxas could never look down on someone
doing their job.
And so he headed through the damned beige lobby and shuffled towards the
wrought iron elevator. And up, up, up he went, holding down his queasy feeling
as he neared the place he disliked the most: home.
“Oh, there you are, sweetie!” cried an exuberant voice. “It’s nice to see you
back early for once! So, how was the show?”
“It got cancelled.”
“Oh! Well, then, what were you doing all day?” The worry and mistrust laced
into the woman’s voice was, for the most part, genuine (the mistrust surely
so). Roxas could easily tell, however, that the woman before him was being paid
for her concern. As a foster child, the Hollow Bastion Regional Justice System,
Sector 3, put Roxas under the care of this woman. HBRJ paid the foster home’s
hosts quitenicely for their participation in the program. To Gloria Bakes,
housing Roxas was both a money grab and a way to get her mother off her back.
Roxas had discovered both things shortly after beginning his stay in her home.
Keeping him sheltered, fed and out of trouble was the least she could do to
earn her monthly cheque.
“I went shopping,” he said after a long pause. “I needed new shoes; you know
how the black ones had holes in them?”
“Ah, right.”
And so began to the nightly ritual of Roxas being quizzed on his needs and
wants so Gloria could please the HBRJ. At least I get the essential stuff, he
mused, only slightly paying attention to Gloria’s ‘good parenting’.
But Roxas had a secret buried deep in his heart that he would only admit in his
darkest hours. He had everything he needed except the most essential thing of
all: love. And this secret is what kept him up that night, staring at the blue
walls of his room. He forced himself to only think about the exact shade of
cerulean that decorated his walls, how they perfectly matched the new shoes
that Gloria had insisted they go out and buy shortly after their conversation.
“I want to make sure you have everything you need,” she had explained. Oh, how
Roxas knew. The only thing that Roxas saw, though, as he picked up his new,
rubber-scented Chucks, was the gaping empty hole where something he wasn’t
thinking about was supposed to be.
Fuck, he thought bitterly. It was times like these he could almost, just
almost, remember. So Roxas curled up in his bed, surrounded by shallow memories
of the past five years, clutched his new shoes, and cried.
OOO
The world was a dark and stinky place to Roxas, sitting on a bench of torn up
woof in a place quite unfamiliar to him. He glanced around, looking from dismal
towers to the gritty street below him. He felt like he had just woken up, could
feel nothing but the biting air of a harsh oncoming winter. Roxas could only
sit quietly for a long time, looking at his breath steam and swirl in the air
in front of him. Looking down to see himself in a lightweight shirt and shorts,
he realised just why he was so cold. His small, prepubescent frame curled in on
itself, trying to keep as warm as possible.
He blinked at the strangers walking past him on the street. Was he supposed to
know where he was? Was he supposed to be going somewhere? He looked at the sign
adjacent to the bench and took in the garish letters.
’36 Loop – Counter Clockwise
Colonial at Chartrand Cres’
Was he supposed to know that street? He didn’t know. He got up on unsteady feet
and walked about the bench, feeling the need to take action and fix his current
predicament but not knowing how. A loud rumble of oncoming traffic startled him
from his circling, and he looked up to see a large white bus with a brilliant
orange stripe painted on the side roll up next to him. The door opened,
revealing a man behind a large electronic tower eyeing him expectantly.
“Well, are you gunna get on, kid?” the guy asked in a gruff voice.
“I... Um...”
“Well?” repeated the man. Roxas shifted, unsure whether to trust this burly
stranger. Deciding he could easily run from the man’s grasp if he had to, Roxas
ventured onto the bus before him.
“Where’s your ticket?” the driver asked, irritation growing apparent in his
voice. “You gunna give me a ticket or what?”
“Pardon?” Roxas said, panic picking up as the doors squealed shut and the bus
started again, ripping him away from the only place he had familiarized himself
with.
“Oh, I get it. You got cash, right? Well, fork it over!”
“Um...”
“Come on, kid!”
“Where am I?”
The bus driver cringed – he had a very long day ahead of him after his shift.
In the next couple of hours that Roxas spent with the bus driver (Rupert, he
discovered) he realized that he truly knew absolutely nothing about anything.
He barely understood what cash was.
He sat in the chair next to Rupert and talked with him for hours. He discovered
he was in a city called Hollow Bastion. He was probably somebody’s amber alert,
Rupert said, but he couldn’t let him go until ‘the end of his shift’. Roxas sat
there, silent for the most part, and looked out of the window numbly. He could
do nothing but take in the never ending loop of scenery as Rupert ran the bus
around the track. Roxas passed Colonial at Chartrand Cres many times, each time
wondering how he had come to sit on the beaten bench.
Eventually, Rupert took Roxas to the police station, into the warm air and
stifling questions presented to him by curious officers.
“What’s your name?” ...Roxas.
“Do you really not remember?” ...Yes.
“Are you a runaway?” He didn’t know.
“Where are you from, son?” He didn’t know.
“Can you tell us why you were on the bench?” Again, he didn’t know.
There were so many things he didn’t know. The police looked at him, looked at
his soft white shirt and brown shorts, and knew he was from somewhere far away.
They took him in, hooked him up to lie detectors and asked him their questions
again and again, but they could only decide that he was an amnesia victim. The
only concern was that there were no new reports on lost children – and no old
reports on lost children, for that matter – that matched his age and
description.
The case of Roxas Doe would be one that they could never solve.
So they packed him up and sent him away to Gloria Bakes, a woman who always had
glowing reviews for her foster care.
Roxas still did not remember, but slowly he grew to make new memories. Gloria
introduced him to her mother, who had cooed and coddled him before Gloria
ripped him away, ending Roxas’ first and last experience with familial love.
Roxas learned about what Hollow Bastion was, what songs were popular, what
stores to shop at, what ‘cash’ and ‘bros’ and ‘omg’ were. What Roxas learned
the most about, though, were the people of the city. They were all raging,
pathological liars. Roxas just wanted to know why people acted the way they
did, why they wore their stupid masks of love and bravado. Why was it
absolutely necessary he wore one too? He didn’t want friends if he had to be
this way! But, try as he might, being blunt did not bode him well in this city.
One day, after being taken for sarcastic when telling a sales woman she looked
lovely, Roxas just gave up. He fell to the seat of Gloria’s car helplessly and
stared at the ceiling in deep thought. If they wanted to play the lying game,
then so be it. He’d be the fakest person they’d ever meet.
OOO
“Your eyes are all puffy,” Olette said, plopping herself on his kitchen stool
after strolling into his apartment uninvited the next morning. Roxas twitched,
unwilling to state that he’d cried himself to sleep the night before.
“I was chopping onions for an omelette earlier,” he said easily, faking a rowdy
grin for his friend who stupidly bought his story.
“Oh! Chef Roxas!” she quipped. “How about you make me one of those stellar
omelettes, eh?”
Roxas cringed. He’d walked right into that one – Olette had always been a food
whore.
“Ran out of eggs, sorry.”
“Damn,” she sighed, allowing Roxas to breath in relief of not having to cook
for the girl. “Well, at least we get to go to the circus today,” she continued.
“I mean, finally. I swear, after yesterday’s incident it better be a great
show.”
“Yeah...”
“Oh, come on! You’re not backing out of it now!” Olette said, looking him
straight in the eyes. “I’ll drag you if I have to.”
Roxas believed her.
“We have, like, an hour to get there. Maybe we should hurry up,” Olette said,
standing up abruptly and waltzing out into the hallway of Roxas’ building.
“Well? Are you coming?”
“Yeah,” Roxas called unenthusiastically.
“Then off to the circus we go!” she sang.
As they made their way through the twisting streets of Hollow Bastion, Roxas
dragged behind and sighed as he looked ahead. His other friends were waiting
for them patiently at Collegeway and Rathburn. He wished they had been late, he
wished Olette had broken her ankle getting up his apartment steps, he wished
anything could have happened that allowed him to be free from the circus visit.
Unfortunately for Roxas’ wishes, when the small group approached the circus
ground for the second time in 24 hours, they were greeted with a much different
sight than they had been the day before.
The place was... alive.
People chatted, the smell of popcorn drifted through the air, and Rikku was
firmly situated in her ticket booth, selling ticket after ticket to literally
hundreds of patrons.
“Hallo, guys! Good to see you came back!” she cheered, waving off Olette’s
hands holding the tickets and making the other girl flinch. “No need to show me
those, sweet cheeks, I know for sure you got ‘em!” Olette looked offended, but
straightened her back and marched away to the entrance of the big top, the view
of towering seating fixtures before her.
“Come on, guys!” she barked, smirking as the men before her fell in line, Roxas
being the last.
“’Bye,” he said to Rikku, twisting his head around to run in behind his friends
who had already situated themselves in the stands.
Pence and Hayner had surrounded Olette in the very front row of the stands,
dead centre to the polished platform in front of them. He squinted at the seat
numbers until he found the one corresponding to his ticket and, picking himself
passed a very lavishly decorated couple, he plunked himself into the seat next
to Hayner’s.
“Hey, man,” he murmured, fixating his vision on the shining silver platform
almost directly in front of him. Hayner responded with a grunt. Roxas willed
himself to calm down, almost simmer, as the lights eventually dimmed and the
show began.
“Hello, my dear patrons, and welcome to Kingdom Hearts – a show that is
incomparable to any other!” A tall man walked out to the centre of the
platform, eyeing the crowd slyly. Roxas blinked at him, seeing his own fare
features in an entirely different way. The man’s own blond hair was slicked
back tight to his skull, blue eyes narrowed in cunning. The man smirked. “My
name is Luxord, and I shall be your ringmaster for the night! I hope you enjoy
the show...”
And, with that, a slender golden rope dropped beside him from the enormous
tent’s rafters. Grabbing on, Luxord was pulled out of view, giving the crowd
one last saucy wink as he disappeared.
Immediately after the platform was emptied, the room went black. The crowd
stirred, unable to decide whether this new development was acceptable. Roxas
heard a whisper of, “Boring...” behind him and nodded in silent agreement.
“Ladies and gentlemen: the trapeze sisters!” Luxord’s voice boomed about the
room and, as his words made their final vibrations, two blinding spot lights
lit up the tent. On either side of the room, far above the floor, two blonde
women appeared – one was tall and extremely curvaceous while the other was
short and thin. They dove to, Roxas’ first thought was, their doom. Only a
moment later, he gave a sigh of relief when he realized they had their hands
firmly gripping trapeze bars.
And so the show went on, Roxas looking on with mild interest as girls and boys
alike came out in shimmering gold and silver outfits. People did flips,
stretches and magic tricks, but over halfway into the show the only thing that
had remotely caught his interest was when Rikku had pranced out onto the stage.
With her braids now clustered with an assortment of colourful beads, a new
shining silver headband and a tight silver bikini top, she almost didn’t look
like the girl he had seen earlier. The flamboyant couple Roxas had stepped over
earlier also sprang to life beside him, jumping over the barrier to join the
act and scaring the crap out of him. She had done a magic show, the two dark
haired people acting as both her assistants and her guinea pigs. Roxas was kind
of impressed, but only because he had actually met the girl beforehand.
He was sure there was nothing noticeable about the circus group, nothing that
made the show ‘incomparable to any other’. Roxas’ face had increasingly been
growing more sour with each passing act until suddenly the lights flickered on
and he thought he could finally, finally, be done with this silly circus. To
his surprise, however, it wasn’t over.
“And now,” Luxord’s ever present voice boomed. “We have an elemental
illusionist! This person had talent so great he had to be hunted down from the
four corners of the earth, his element learned after centuries of practice from
his predecessors!”
Heh, so dramatic, Roxas thought to himself, completely at ease with the fact
that he knew nothing could be as spectacular as this man proclaimed it to be.
But Roxas was proved utterly wrong.
A man walked onto the platform looking completely different than any of the
other performers. He wore nothing but a blue pair of swim shorts, his fair hair
spiked up at a perfect 90-degree angle. His smile was wild and care-free. He
just stood there for a moment, casting his wonderful grin at the crowd. Then he
drew his arms up and summoned tidal waves to crash and rush up either side of
him.
Roxas could feel the rush of the water’s currents from his front row seat and
he was awed. He could do nothing but sit there and watch the man swim, command
and dance with the water, glued to the way the heavy dub step temp in the
background made the liquid jump and twitch with each bass roll.
How could this be real? he thought in awe, a genuine smile forming on his lips
as he watched the man with increasing wonder. It all ended eventually, but
Roxas was left with a distinct feeling of joy from the performance. It was...
beautiful.
They must have left the best act for last, as a string of performers walked
onto the stage to take their final bows. To Roxas, the magicians, acrobats and
contortionists had nothing great about them. He only had eyes for the waterman.
They had never announced his name, Roxas realized.
Luxord was the last to arrive on the silvery stage to announce that the show
was truly over and that everyone could leave. As he walked away sadly, Roxas
wondered if he truly had hated the entire show. Maybe, just maybe, he should
have looked at it with an open mind. But no, he had waited until the last, most
spectacular act to realize how truly amazing this circus just might be.
He wished he could somehow approach these people and tell them just how
wonderful he thought the show was. But instead he turned, face red, and ran to
catch up with his friends. It wasn’t until much later it struck Roxas – the man
from the water act was looking directly at him with his glowing smile at the
end of the show.
OOO
“Roxas! You’re back!” Gloria cried, getting up from her perch on a stool in the
apartment’s kitchen.
She had been waiting for him. Roxas gulped; this couldn’t end well in his eyes.
He walked into the kitchen as slowly as he dared, dropping his keys on the
counter with a clack.
“I need to talk to you, sweetie. Come and sit down.” She readjusted herself on
her own stool, as if to make a statement that he should follow. He sat
cautiously, and glanced up to his guardian with an expectant look on his face.
“Yes, Gloria?” he asked politely. What could she want now?
“As you and I both know, your birthday’s coming up in the next couple of
months.”
“Yes, in November.”
“Well, sweetie, you’ll be turning eighteen.”
“...And?”
“And you’ll be a legal adult then. I think it’d be in your best interest if you
moved out after that, hon. I raised you to be a responsible adult these past
five years. I think it’s time you go out and look for a job and be on your own
after that, for your own sake.”
“O-okay.”
Gloria smiled at this and indicated with a wave that she was done talking. With
that Roxas rose, walked out of the kitchen and slumped onto his bed as it hit
him.
Eighteen. A legal adult.
Gloria’s cheques would stop coming once her foster child no longer needed
protection under the law. Gloria was getting rid of him. She’d soon have her
clutches in some new, younger child that she could ignore and keep to replace
him.
Having no idea what was to become of him, Roxas lay on his bed for a long time
and tried not to think of anything in particular. The only comforting thought
about the whole situation to him at the moment was that he would not be going
to bed crying. However, he had much, much bigger problems before him.
In three months he’d be homeless.
 
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Over the next few days, Roxas didn't sleep all that well. He woke up feeling
groggy and examined each morning, as if he had been underneath a microscope all
night instead of his covers. However, Roxas could chalk all of this up to the
fact that his foster parent, his only guardian in the last 5 years, had
abandoned him.
The morning after Gloria had announced her 'wonderful' idea, she had simply
placed a plethora of job applications on the kitchen counter with a sticky note
telling Roxas how beneficial jobs were. Roxas had promptly crumpled up the note
angrily and stalked back into his room to steam. But his anger didn't last
long; it soon melted into cold hard logic.
He knew Gloria was right. If the woman was going to kick him out, the least he
could do was be prepared for it. So he set out, with his brand new blue shoes
and a pressed golf shirt, to find a job. At first, he thought it would be easy,
smile at the boss-lady, hand in a resume, and bang! Instant job. The world
however, was never as simple as Roxas' black and white mind made it out to be,
and he did not instantly win over the many boss-ladies with his shining smile.
Once again, the city's people were part of Roxas' down fall.
As one day of job hunting turned into two and three, he was becoming more and
more worried with each glance at his dwindling bank account. He stopped eating
out; he stopped shopping on his own. When Gloria asked him if he needed
something, Roxas never held out anymore. He was determined to suck the woman
dry until he was forced out of his home on his birthday. His birthday, for
God's sake. Or at least his 'found day', considering they had given Roxas his
birth date based on the day that he was discovered at the bus stop. Roxas was
also now very, very grateful he hadn't been found in the summer months. At
least he had at little more time to prepare before he was kicked out.
The stress was building up inside him; he stopped pretending to chum around
with his friends, giving them the very firm excuses of 'job hunting'. At least
he was free of their incessant chatter.
"If this is what I'm like after a couple days," he murmured to himself, "what
am I going to be like in a couple months?" The answer, Roxas surely did not
want to know. He needed to find a job fast, even if it was only a semi-
permanent one, and he desperately needed to stock up his savings.
Unsure were to go, however, Roxas ended up leaning against a fence with Hayner,
cussing out working establishments with his fellow hater.
"I just- God, man, you know what I mean?" Hayner said, kicking at the dirt and
pebbles underneath his feet angrily. "So fuckin' extra." Roxas nodded, humming
into his ice cream. Listening to Hayner talk was extremely funny, as the boy
was far from the sharpest tack in the box.
"You hear me though, man, it's bogus you have to work for your money." Hayner
was also extremely rich. His dad owned several high-end electronic stores
scattered throughout Hallow Bastion and the surrounding area. As much as he
could connect with Roxas' anger and betrayal, he couldn't understand the value
of the money the boy needed, and Roxas stewed. He knew Hayner was probably the
wrong choice to hang out with when griping about money problems, but he was out
of options and wanted to hear Hayner spout off more dumb lines.
"Yeah, man," Roxas said jokingly. "I wish I could have a big Daddy who owned
stuff to just give me cash!"
"Ha ha. Yeah," the boy said, looking at him in a kind of offhand manner. Roxas
wasn't sure if Hayner had meant for his insult to hurt or not. It did, but that
was against the point in a city of liars.
"Oh! Wait, man!" Hayner cried, pushing his body off of the fence in a pivot
towards Roxas. "Total brilliant idea! Work at one of my Dad's stores! I mean,
it might take a bit to get you in, maybe about a couple of weeks, but I could
totally hook you up." He finished his sentence, giving him a satisfied look and
crossing his arms. Roxas looked up back at his friend appraisingly. It was a
pretty good idea.
"Yeah, that could work!" he said, slipping a more genuine grin on his face.
Maybe things would be better for him now that the mess was sorted out and he
could have a real job. Roxas was no idiot; he knew Hayner's dad paid his
employee's well.
"Sweet," Hayner said, slipping his eye's shut in a fist pump. "You won't regret
it, man! I'll get back to you in a bit, kay?" With that the taller boy rose and
dashed off across the abandoned lot they had been relaxing in, and disappearing
from sight around a corner.
Roxas was left alone, staring at the rubble where his friend had been sitting
only moments before.
Maybe hanging out with Hayner had been a better idea than he thought.
OOO
Roxas didn't want to go home more than ever since Gloria had given him his 3-
month warning. Instead, he found himself wandering around the city he had grown
to hate so much. He would pass by tiny hovels of shops with their tricky,
greedy merchants, and high glistening buildings covered in the token coppery
piping. But with each turn of the corner and each step he took, instead of
falling in love with the scenery and people, he grew to hate it even more. When
I leave, he mused I'm getting out of this hellhole and never coming back.
He thought of the many places he could go once he left - he had never had
really fully educated himself on the world outside of Hallow Bastion after he'd
forgotten everything. But he somehow felt like the gloomy city was the centre
of the world he lived in, having only the faintest thoughts of lofts, barns and
cobbled streets.
He held onto those thoughts though, and raced further into the city, content on
going home for the moment and researching were he would make his great escape.
As Roxas went back into the city streets, joy bubbled in his chest at the idea
of being free. He decided that although Gloria was leaving him homeless, maybe
it wasn't as bad an idea as he had made out to be. He had options; the
obligations he held to his friends were weak compared to his newly unearthed
travel lust.
The way Roxas looked at it, he could leave his old friends behind in a
heartbeat. They didn't even know him well.
So he kept his thoughts churning. He'd have to find a new place to live, a new
job, everything would have to be reinvented when he left. He was immediately
glad that he hadn't decided to go to college in the fall, grimacing at the idea
of having to wriggle out of his schooling now.
He could always apply for a school further away when he had his own place,
maybe make some real friends. He truly did feel like the city he lived in was
cursed and, as all these deep thoughts were being process in Roxas' head, he
didn't realize he was getting deeper and deeper into the city.
Oblivious, he headed further into the rustier and darker parts of town, his
head filled with ideas of a shining future. And Roxas didn't realize until he
was standing outside of a garishly decorated tattoo parlour that he was truly
and deeply lost. He stopped then, gulping down the sudden dread that entered
his veins and made them ice over.
He was in the part of town that was always on the news. He was in gang
territory. Looking at himself in the tattoo shops window, Roxas stared down his
golden spikes, shiny blue eyes, and slender frame. He was all but dead if
anyone questionable decided to pick on him, and he was sure someone would.
Despite his money problems, dressed in Gloria's clothing he looked like nothing
more than a pretty rich boy.
Roxas glanced around cautiously, breath shaky, but it seemed he was okay, maybe
if he just kept on walking at the pace he was going before then he would be out
of the area soon and safe in his apartment.
"Hey, kid!" a voice cried out. Roxas froze were he stood, too ridged to turn
around. "Hellooo? Can you hear me?" He could hear footsteps approaching him.
This is it. Roxas thought Fight or flight. And just as Roxas had gathered his
wits enough to take off tearing down the streets again, someone grabbed him by
the shoulder, making him wince.
"Hey, you're the kid from our show right?" Roxas turned, features visibly
relaxing as he saw he was standing face to face with the man from circus
earlier, pink floppy hair and all.
"Y-yeah."
"Ah-ha! I knew it! I can always remember a pretty face. I saw you from inside
the tattoo parlor, thought I'd ask you how you liked the show!" Roxas was now
completely at ease. He didn't know why, but he felt that with this flamboyant
man people would stay away.
"Oh, it was great. Really like the water guy! How'd he even do that? Amazing,"
Roxas said, and the man's grin grew wider at the last compliment.
"You liked Dem? I'll have to tell him that," he said with a laugh. "Or better
yet…you want to tell him that yourself? I'm heading back to the big top now if
you wanna tag along." He seemed elated to offer, and much more calm than when
had had been wooing Olette.
"That'd be great, actually," Roxas said, smiling real smiles for this almost-
stranger. "I'm actually kind of lost right now."
"You don't say," the taller man said. "And here I thought you were a local."
"Well, I am," Roxas conceded. "I just…don't venture into this part of town
often. It's dangerous. What're you even doing here?"
"I was sent to do an errand for a friend."
"…At a tattoo parlor?"
"Yeah. You could say that."
And so Roxas followed the flowery man out of the vast, hazardous streets and
into the safer parts of town. His mission to go was home all but forgotten.
And As they walked, the two strangers talked to one another. Roxas learned that
the tower of a man was actually called Marluxia, and he was the costumier of
the circus.
"Guess that explains why you weren't on stage," Roxas joked.
"Oh no," Marluxia said, shaking his head merrily. "I have an act too; I just
wasn't in the rotation the night you visited. We clump our performers into
three different groups and rotate them every night so the show isn't always the
same."
It was then that Roxas realised he had missed far more than he had thought.
Maybe there were more people just as amazing as 'Dem'. Bowing his head down,
Roxas wished desperately that he had grabbed one of the circus' flyers. Or
insisted to Olette they go again. But it was too late to ask her now, and he
could only hope to scoop one off his bubbly friend later.
Time passed quickly next to Marluxia and soon they had arrived at the circus
once more. Roxas could see the pure white fabric of the tent drifting lazily in
the midday sun long before they reached the entrance to the tent. But then he
paused. The place was deserted and with the lack of people around the grounds
hours before the show he felt like he was intruding in a sacred place,
somewhere he shouldn't be.
"I think I'll just go now," he said quickly. "Thanks for leading me out of
danger, but really, I should just go." He glanced quickly up to his companion
in apology.
"But, I thought you wanted to meet Dem…" Marluxia trailed off sadly. "Don't you
want to at least say hi? It'll take two seconds." He turned abruptly and yanked
open the front of the tent. "DEMYX!" he screamed inside.
Roxas quickly felt the queasiness that a child feels before meeting their idol,
like they didn't want to be let down, and instead of handling it like a
rational, soon-to-be adult, Roxas acted like the child he felt he was. He
bolted, leaving the circus grounds behind and heading, with a clear head this
time, directly home.
Marluxia watched him go sadly, hearing Demyx's footsteps fall behind him.
"What's up?" the blonde asked cheerily, before spotting the fleeing boy. "Oh…"
"Yeah, I'm sorry man."
OOO
"Sora," the boy said to himself, alone in the darkness of his prison. "Sora,
Sora, Sora." It was all he could say since he had remembered. The name brought
with it many things for the boy as it came to his lips, one of them being
questions.
With the break in his memory he had been sniffing his meager supplies of food,
trying to determine if there was anything amiss. He found nothing every time,
but as he ate his food he kept of his steady mantra of 'Sora'. He felt weaker
these days, as if trying to hold onto that one word used all his strength. That
and, of course, pleasing his keeper. It seemed the man came more and more
often, grinding the boy into the icy floor, and leaving his body covered in
bleeding scrapes from the friction.
So, he would lie awake, in too much pain to even move, feeling drunk with blood
loss and starvation, but still managing to mutter that one word.
"Sora."
His chant of it being over had been dead in his throat long ago, but as long as
he could keep himself just sane enough, he was sure he could out live his
captor. He was positive he would be able to escape.
The boy also did not remember anything more. He tried to sing again, tried to
close his eyes and picture something, as he was so sure he'd done before. But
nothing more ever came. No more magical lyrics, no more words scribbled hastily
in his own blood when inspiration took hold of him. He wasn't sure he could
even lift his fingers anymore - every once in a while he gave a mild twitch,
only to give up again when that was all he could manage to do.
And it would have possibly stayed like that forever, the boy dryly whispering
his only word, and his captor swooping in to have his fill with him whenever he
felt the fancy to do so. Until one day his keeper made a fatal mistake.
Excited from the adrenalin pumping through his body, the man heaved his final
breath, riding out the joy of his orgasm on the body below him. He stopped,
made one final swipe of his brow, and left the boy he'd just had his way with
to regain his labored breathing. Content, he pranced over to the door, not
giving a glance backwards for his captives well being. He knew it couldn't die.
So he left, slamming the door triumphantly behind him, patting himself on the
back for successfully breaking his boy in. And as he walked along the path back
to his car he was only mildly irritated when he felt a sudden tug at the bottom
of his coat, he turned, noticed it caught in the door and gave it a sharp tug
to pull it free. With his only obstruction in his path gone, he drove off
blissfully unaware.
Unaware that his coat had pulled the door open.
Unaware that the falling rain had awoken his prisoner.
Unaware that the boy's shackles were long broken.
And the man remained unaware, until the next day when he returned to the little
shack that he had been keeping his boy in. Fully ready for another go, he would
stop and realize that for the first time in over five years he would have to
deal with his own arousal.
OOO
There was nothing quite like waking up early for Roxas. He would stretch and
yawn and cuss until he was sure he wasn't going back to sleep. He knew,
however, that it was better than getting up late and having to talk to Gloria
about how the job was going. It wasn't. Hayner had become elusive, he wasn't
picking up his cell, and he wasn't home. Yet Roxas somehow knew the blockhead
was going to pull through for him. So he had stopped looking around for
different places to take him in, and figured that it was a done deal.
So Roxas had done something that in retrospective was very, very stupid: he had
told Gloria that he already had a job. So now Roxas had to get up early every
week day and 'go to work' until Hayner told him he actually had a place to go
to. And Roxas hated, hated doing this.
The city, however appealing it was to tourists, held no appeal to him
personally. He didn't want to waste any money either, so he was left wandering
around the streets of Hallow Bastion listlessly.
And he was so caught up in grumbling about his own sad, sad existence that he
didn't seem to notice when his feet took him along a familiar path.
Roxas was instantly disgusted with himself when he found that he was staring
directly at the shimmering white fabric of the big top. He glanced around,
hoping that no one had seen him staring at the tent like it was the answer to
everything, and closed his eyes in gratitude when he found himself alone. Or…he
had thought he was alone.
"Hey, Roxas!" a cheery voice called out to him. Oh, shit, he thought miserably.
I wasn't alone.
"Hellooo? Rox-as? That is your name, right? That's what Marly said it was, at
least." Roxas turned around to see Rikku perching on the ticket booth as if she
had never left it ten days before. "Hey!" she cried in greeting when she caught
his eyes. "'Sup, Blondie? Why are you here?"
"I, well, I was just wandering around town."
"Oh, yeah. Marly said you do that too," Rikku said, tipping her head back. "So…
you wanna hang out?" Seeing Roxas' skeptical gaze she laughed, "Oh, come on!
The show's not for another five hours, I'm bored."
"I don't know…" he said, shifting easily from foot to foot. Why he couldn't
just lie his way out of this situation, he didn't know. But as he looked up at
the girl's eyes, he felt like he didn't need to lie to her like he lied to
everyone else in the city. After thinking about it, Roxas realised that talking
to Marluxia had been the same way. Huh.
"Please? Please? Please? Pleeease?" Rikku begged, hopping down 6 feet to come
to his side, hanging off his arm sadly and pouting at him. Roxas twitched,
unaccustomed to...hyperactivity.
"F-fine."
"Oh, my god! Yay!" she cheered, pumping her fist in the air in an eerily
similar way to Hayner. Roxas could tell, thought, that the only thing those two
shared was hair colour. "Come on!" she quipped, "Let me show you the reeeal
circus."
And with that Rikku promptly dragged him to the big top, and Roxas was
horrified. Were the people inside going to accept him? Or would they simply
tell him to get out, tell him that he wasn't welcome?
But, it quickly became apparent that the people of the circus didn't give a
damn about anything he did. Rikku apparently had a strange habit for asking
random strangers to hang out with her, because with each person he passed they
hardly gave him a second glance. Or even a first. They did, however, run into
Marluxia, who they found muttering darkly to himself as he hunched over a
sewing machine.
"Her Mar-mar! Guess what I fooound?" the girl teased.
"…The tooth fairy?" the man replied, the sound of fatigue and frustration
apparent in his voice.
"No," she replied, drawing her voice out playfully.
"…Axel?" The man sounded hopeful this time. But Rikku just laughed at him,
filling the room with the exuberant noise.
"Like I could find him," she snorted.
"Listen, Rikku, if you don't tell me what you found, so help me I'll-" And then
Marluxia finally laid his eyes upon Roxas. His back straightened, and he pulled
his hair quickly out of his face. "Hey there."
"Hey," Roxas chuckled.
"So, uh. You're what Rikku found?" Marluxia eyed the boy before him, utterly
surprised to see him in the confines of his working room.
"Yeah," Roxas said, feeling incredibly uncomfortable in front of the taller
man.
"Yep, well, gotta show him the rest of this place! Byeee!" Rikku giggled,
reattaching herself to Roxas' arm and once again dragging the boy against his
own free will. Once out of Marluxia's sight, Rikku dropped his arm and spun
Roxas right into the chest of yet another person. Roxas was getting the
distinct feeling Rikku was messing with him for kicks.
"Meet Dem," she said, before disappearing from Roxas' grasp.
"Wha'?" Roxas cried before turning back to the person he'd been shoved into.
"Sorry about that."
"It's cool man, it's obvious Rikku's up to her tricks again." The chest
chuckled, and Roxas looked up to see the face behind the words. He met glowing
sea green eyes and a magnitude of spiky blonde hair pointing skywards.
"Oh, my god," Roxas breathed out. "You're that water guy."
"Well, I prefer Demyx, since it's my name and all," he said, rubbing the back
of his head. He seemed almost… embarrassed. "But, yeah, that's me. What are
you? A fan-boy?"
"Not exactly," Roxas said, titling his head down and blushing. "I just thought
your act was really, really incredible."
"So, a fan-boy," Demyx said, grinning at the look of horror on Roxas' face.
"Take it easy kid, I'm only Joshing ya."
"Oh," Roxas said daftly. He was such an idiot sometimes.
OOO
Demyx had no idea what to do with the kid in front of him; he had a feeling
Rikku had planned their meeting the entire time, the wench. But staring down at
the small blonde kid was a whole different experience than performing in front
of him. Before, Demyx had literally been in his element. But seeing the cute
kid blush and stutter in front of him was not. He blessed his lucky stars that
he was in the rotation the night he visited.
"So, what's your name?" he asked, hoping that maybe learning the boy's name
might miraculously break the ice.
"Roxas," the boy mumbled, looking at his blue converse with enraptured
attention.
"Hey, it's cool, Roxas. Don't freak out, okay? Rikku was just being Rikku.
Chill." And the boy in front of him just stared up, his face fading back to
normal colouring, and then scoffed.
"Yeah, your right," he said, slipping on a more at ease demeanour. "See ya."
And Roxas turned his heel to simply walk out of the big top.
"Wait!" Demyx cried. He couldn't let go of Roxas just yet; he'd only just meet
him. Roxas turned back around with an expectant look on his face. "You said you
liked my act, right? Want to see a bit more?" Demyx was rewarded with a wide
grin from his companion.
"Sure."
And so he led the kid further into the various rooms of the big top, hoping
that Roxas wouldn't notice it seemed bigger on the inside than the out.
Finally, they reached a deep corner of the tent, a room used for nothing but
practice space. A couple of buckets were strewn about the floor, along with
some mats and cushions used for the acrobats. Demyx easily scooped up one of
his buckets of water, and waved a hand to one of the cushions for Roxas to sit
down. The kid had glanced at him for only a moment before situating himself on
one of the cushions primly. He sunk into it clumsily moments later with a small
'ump!' of surprise.
Demyx grinned; he hadn't exclusively shown his talents to someone so clueless
exclusively in a long time.
"This," Demyx started, settling himself onto the ground in front of Roxas, "is
my only tool." With that he dropped his hands into the bucket, drawing out
heaps of water with him to swirl lazily around his rising hands.
"How're you even doing that? Luxord said you were an illusionist, not magic!"
Roxas said, clamouring over his almost disjointed limbs from the cushion. Shit,
Demyx thought.
"Well," he started out carefully. "Luxord is also a terrible, terrible liar -
in the fact that he's good at it, that is. I'm a magician."
"Oh," Roxas said with a blink. "Still. How do you do it?" To that Demyx leaned
back and laughed. Didn't this kid know anything about show biz?
"A magician never reveals his secrets," he breathed dramatically. "It's the
first rule of a good act." Roxas looked disappointed at that, then slightly
bitter.
"Yeah. I guess even circus folk are liars." Roxas gave a tired sigh, unaware of
the negativity that was seeping out of him. Demyx blinked at the sudden change
in demeanour. The boy had become jaded so quickly and he felt the need to
change Roxas' mind.
"Here, here," he sang out, making the other boy look up as he grabbed his
hands. "I'll show you something cool then." And with that Demyx twisted Roxas'
hands about, allowing them to shade and shift the water still drifting through
the air. Roxas' face grew soft, and Demyx couldn't help but smile at the kid's
wonder.
"Better?" he whisper. The moment, with the silence thick in the air, was
stopping him from talking any louder than a hushed tone.
"Yeah…that was really cool," Roxas mused. "Thanks." He looked Demyx right in
the eyes and sky blue met sea green. Demyx had no idea how to handle the
situation anymore, and as he watched his water drift further up into the air,
he realized he was still holding Roxas' wrists loosely. All he could think of
doing was bringing his water back before he lost his hold and drenched them
both. He released Roxas' hands quickly, and with a flick of his wrists let the
water came pouring back into the bucket.
"Heh," he said, laughing awkwardly beside the boy. Roxas looked at him in an
unreadable way, and flopped back onto the cushion. Demyx followed suit.
"So, Rikku told everyone she picked up some kid wandering around. Any reason
you're just walking about the streets of this huge city?"
"Ah ha. Yeah, there is, but it's a long story," Roxas confessed, face heating
up again.
"I've got time," Demyx said, rolling over to face his companion.
"Well, um. Long story short: I needed a job, my friend said he'd give me one,
and then he disappeared. I'd already told my guardian I had gotten a job
though, so I'm forced out of my house each day to go to my 'job' and just end
up walking around. It's kinda pathetic actually." Demyx wondered at 'guardian'
instead of parent, but decided he wouldn't ask. He was surprised this kid had
such a good reason to be wandering around the grounds, though. Some people
thought he was just a puppy dog fan.
"I have to say," he replied, shuffling a bit on the cushion and battling his
way out of its deep embrace. "That really bites, man. I didn't have a job at
your age."
"Ha. How much older than me could you possibly be, anyway?" Roxas laughed and
Demyx grinned in response. If only he knew.
"21," he replied.
"Yeah, see, that's like… what, three years older than me? Don't act like an old
man!" He was stretching and dragging himself out of the cushion as well. Their
moment of silence was over.
"Yeah, yeah," Demyx sang out. "Just remember to stay off my grass, whipper
snapper!" Roxas laughed, pulling himself further into the folds of the tent,
and out of the hidden practice chamber.
OOO
When Roxas appeared back at his apartment a few hours later, for the first time
in a long while he felt like he hadn't wasted his entire day. He felt lighter
talking to someone who wasn't his awful city friends and he felt like he didn't
have the weight of debt of his shoulders. Roxas might have even stayed in his
blissful state a bit longer if he hadn't walked right into the kitchen to see
Gloria sitting there, looking at him ready to speak.
"Oh, Roxas! I'm so glad you're home! How's your new job?" Oh, god, he cringed.
He had no imagination for this stuff.
"It's…it's good," he managed to bite out awkwardly, laughing a bit at the end.
"Oh, that's good, sweetie. Listen, I wanted to talk about your situation a tad
more, maybe over dinner?" She was so sugar sweet in the way she said it, that
Roxas could feel more bad news looming over her with every word. He panicked.
"Yeah, I would, but I've got plans for dinner. Sorry!" He could see Gloria's
face fall, and he quickly launched himself into the hallway before the woman
could say anything else.
Great, now I have to leave the house again. Roxas scooped up a sweater randomly
off the end of his bed, and ran back out of his apartment. Back into the city.
He rubbed his face tiredly; he'd have to buy dinner for himself again. Great.
The thought of food, however, cheered Roxas up substantially and he headed off
with a little more joy in his step with thoughts of his favourite burger joint
in his mind. Nothing was better to lighten a teenage boy's mood than the
thought of A&W.
He thought back to his last few moments with Demyx in the circus as he walked
the well tread path to A&W. The man was an enigma to him, cheerful and humble,
yet talented and confident. But most of all it was the man's words that
bothered Roxas. He had offered him something he hadn't been expecting as he
left.
"If you need a job, why not work for us for a bit?" Roxas had only stared at
him, unimpressed. "Come on, think about it! We're always short on help when we
do shows for a city this big. It's convenient, and you get moooney!"
"I dunno."
"Just… Just think about it. It'd only be for the month or so until we move on,
but…"
Roxas had stared a Demyx for a solid 30 seconds, wondering if it was a good
idea to work for circus folk. He couldn't help but feel intrigued, though. All
the people within this tent were so different. So… odd.
"I'll think about it."
When Roxas finally arrived at A&W he was still at a total loss for what to do
or say to Demyx. As he ordered his combo, he decided he would leave well enough
alone. He'd just have to wait and see how desperate he got. But it was only a
month, and it might help him not get mugged walking around Hallow Bastion all
day. He kicked a corroded pipe, shoving the rest of his onion rings into his
mouth.
It was time to find Hayner. Roxas looked in all the punks' favourite places,
the first being the dry old abandoned lot that he and the other boy had been
sitting in only days before. Roxas spied his abandoned ice cream stick, alone
in the lot. Eating ice cream had always been a familiar sensation to him, like
he could remember. Tossing the thought aside he picked up the left over garbage
and placed it into a bin on his left.
Looking out over the dry old lot, Roxas felt so empty. He was a lone kid, with
some people he could barely call friends, living with a woman he barely knew or
liked. He sat down, not minding if the dust and dirt dug into his pants and not
minding how dirty his hair got as he lay in the middle of the lot. He must look
homeless, he thought distantly, but Roxas simply didn't care. He was far too
caught up in the swirl of utter helplessness at his own fate. He knew he should
get up, dust off and return to his hunt for Hayner, but he felt cemented to the
ground, like all at once he couldn't move.
When he finally lifted his hands, Roxas felt the ice-cold rush of wind whip
around him. He shivered, pulling his plain black hoodie more tightly around
himself. When had it gotten so cold? He didn't know, but as he felt the breeze
pick up, his nose getting pink from the sudden bite, he knew it wasn't normal
weather for August. Getting up off the ground Roxas was just about to turn and
head for home when his phone when off, nearly making him jump at the sudden
noise.
"I went for work today, I'm spill-" Roxas jabbed the green phone button on his
cell quickly, instantly awoken from his contemplations.
"Hello?" he asked inquisitively into the other line.
"Hey, Rox. It's Hayner."
"Oh, thank god. I was wondering where the hell you went."
"Yeah, well. My dad found my stash, got in huge shit and I had to go get some
more." Hayner was a huge pothead; his big business daddy couldn't be pleased
with it, though. "Anyways, Dad isn't so happy with me right now, ya know?"
"Yeah, well. Duh," Roxas said, rolling his eyes. Only Hayner would state the
obvious like that.
"Anyways. I asked him about the job for you, right? Flat out turned me down.
Said any friends of mine had to be no good. So yeah so-" The line went dead as
Roxas hung up. He stormed out of the abandoned lot, clenching his phone in his
hands so hard he was sure it would snap.
One move, one dumb move, and Roxas was now completely out of options. He had
been counting on Hayner, and the dumb ass had completely let him down. Now had
no more job options! He was screwed!
Except… "If you need a job, why not work for us for a bit?" Demyx. The circus.
Maybe he wasn't completely out of luck after all. So Roxas turned and started
walking in the opposite direction, towards the big top.
He raced over the uneven ground, hopped over the 'do not enter' sign, and
marched right past a very confused Rikku.
"Hello? Roxas? Hellooo? Can I help you with something? Are you still mad about
earlier? Look, I'm sorry, okay?" But Roxas only turned, stopping abruptly and
making Rikku bump into him.
"I guess you can help me," he said, the burning anger from Hayner still
bubbling over the surface of is words dangerously.
"Huh? Help you with what? What do you need?" Rikku stared at him, apprehension
written on her face. She was looking nervously at Roxas, seeing a sharp,
dangerous look in his eyes. "Roxas?"
"Help me send in my application."
OOO
Chapter End Notes
     Thanks for the Kudo's and comment guys! I really appreciate them,
     hope everyone enjoys the chapter! c: Also, I apologize for such long
     periods between updates! Hopefully things will pick up when I go on
     Christmas break on the 7th!
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter 3
Three boys laughed together in a meadow, the world around them silent, dreamy.
“You know, I think I like just being here with you guys.” The smallest said,
reaching his hands out happily for his freinds, holding them.
“Me too. I don’t care what everyone else says, we could totally just stay here
forever!” The two laughed together, cuddling.
“Yeah, and make forts, and sing, and just lay on the grass all day long!”
“You two are crazy. You know you can’t do that.” The tallest said, rolling in
the grass lazily, looking at the other two with an easy laugh.
“But it would be so much fun, just think of all the things we could do if we
weren’t tied down by responsibilities.” One brother piped up.
“Yeah! We’d be free.”
“Do you really want to be free guys? Cus that could mean no one could take care
of you.” The older pointed out.
“But you would. If we stay together, we’ll be okay!”
“Yeah, yeah! Let’s all run away together someday!”
“…Okay, but we have to stay together.” The boys clamoured up to one another,
tiny fists clenching one another hands, laughing.
“Roxas! Are you awake yet?” Roxas allowed his eye’s to flutter open
reluctantly, clinging to his lost thoughts. He was greeted with the deep red of
the wall he had been staring at over his therapist shoulder before being put
under.
“Yeah. Now I am.”
“And how was it? Do you remember anything I walked you through?”
“No. Not this time.”
“Next time then.” It was always next time for Roxas, he could never seem to
recapture his past, time after time he was put under and time after time he
awoke with no new information. This man was neither help with his past or his
present.
“So Roxas, how’ve you been lately?”
“Okay, I guess.”
“You guess? Any insight to why you’re not sure your okay?”
“I don’t know, just, living.”
“Haha, well that’s good. Not in the past I hope?”
“What? No, no, thinking about my future actually.”
“Well that’s a good place to be looking. We all know how you get when you try
and do things you not capable of.”
“I could remember if I wanted!”
“Sure you could. I think that’s enough for this session.” Roxas squealed out of
his chair, grumbling threateningly to himself as he left the reception office.
Weren’t therapist thought to make you feel better about yourself? His was just
an asshole. But what was he to expect if he had a good therapist maybe he
wouldn’t be seeing him 5 years after he meet him.
It was exasperating, not know anything, but when he simply tried to push
through, he found himself only getting more dejected. However, he firmly
refused to give up. Someone somewhere had to have loved him, had to have
thought something of him. Because no matter how he got onto the bus bench he
felt that somewhere down the line he’d had a family. He knew waking up in the
heart of the night with a smile on his face meant something. He hoped.
Sometimes, Roxas heart would twinge, randomly and quickly, and then it would
just stop. The feeling had dulled recently though, being left at more of a
dreary thud in his chest. However, he had more important things to deal with
most of the time other than heartache. He had a job.
OOO
Demyx paced around his room nervously. He’d hired Roxas without much dithering,
but had totally forgotten to clear it with the higher ups. One thing Demyx
really, really loathed was authority. He didn’t care how long he lived he would
never get used to having to report to someone and explain his idea and thought
in a manner that made sense to anyone but himself.
So Demyx was considerably nervous to discuss his new hire to Luxord. As he
walked down the hallways he began to sweat, what if he says no? By the time he
reach the ringmasters room, he was in panic. He saw the man sitting calmly at
his desk, flipping through a book and had to steel himself for what he was
about to do.
“Heeey Luxord, can I talk to you for a sec? I mean, probably more than a sec,
but you know how it is. Haha. Yeah, anyways. Conversation?” The blonde man
looked up, giving him an amused look, and motioned him into the room.
“Yes, Demyx?”
“Would it be okay if I hired a kid to work here for a bit?” The man’s eyebrow’s
rose.
“And whom would this be?”
“Um, Roxas, this kid from the show a few days back, he really needs a job an-“
“Wait.” Luxord started, thoroughly cutting off the other “The little fair-
haired one from the front row?”
“Y-yeah. How’d you know?”
“Just had a feeling. Yeah, go ahead and hire him.”
“Great! Thanks! I think I finally found the one!”
“Thank god for that. You’ve had to many flase starts.”
“Yeah…” Demyx did not stay in the other man’s compartment much longer fleeing
to more communal parts of the tent to tell his friends that yes, he had gotten
permission. The man left in the room however, was not as joyous. He did nothing
but slant his chair back, allowing himself to think about the small blonde boy
he had just registered for temporary service. Something was off about the kid,
half completed.
He got up and idly drifted towards a hefty bookcase he always has set up in the
exact same place at every site. Grabbing a large wide book he paged throughout
the tiny typed pages. While Demyx played with his new friend, he was determined
to find out what was wrong with him.
“What cha doing?” A voice broke him from his deep absorption on the pages.
“Oh, finally decided to appear Axel?”
“Well, I needed to come back eventually, right? Anyways, why do you have that
old tome out, trying to find out the perfect way to kill somebody?”
“No, rather I’m trying to bring them back to life.” Axel smiled, interesting.
OOO
The mornings weren’t getting any easier for Roxas, but at least now he truly
had somewhere to be going, and that thought alone was a comfort. So when he got
up the next day after his exhausting therapy session, he felt better than ever.
He picked his clothes, packed his bag and took off with out being even slightly
fazed by Gloria.
Refreshing.
Consequently Roxas wasn’t surprised with himself when he greeted Demyx with a
grin. It was uncommon for him, but somehow, seeing the man had brought a smile
to his face.
“Hey” He called out happily, unsure whether to walk up to the man in front of
him or not. He settled for an awkward half wave, as cool as Demyx was, he
wasn’t sure if he was comfortable around the man quite yet.
“So um, what am I going to do exactly?”
“Oh, ha ha, right! Namine’s going to show you the ropes of temping!” Demyx
grinned, swinging his arm around a petite blonde girl who walked up to them.
“Hi there.” She said, nodding her head in his direction.
“Hey.” Roxas said meekly, he had kind of wanted to work with Demyx.
“So let’s go then,” she chirped, lopping her arm with his, guiding him into the
big top. Roxas turned his head back, only to see Demyx waving has hands happily
at them and turning around to go into town. Roxas did a double take on the
slender girl tugging him along, she looked sort of similar.
Namine was very good at everything circus, she knew how to wash the stands
until they shined, how to work the ticket printer, how to heave out a mop and
scrub the platform until it glowed. Roxas could only stand by as an onslaught
of information was fired at him. By the end of his training he was both
exhausted and enlightened.
As they stood on the countless rows of seats double checking if there was any
garbage left behind from the previous show, it donned upon him. Namine was the
girl from the opening act the night he had gone to see the circus.
“Namine?” He asked, looking up to see the girl turn her head questioningly.
“Yes?”
“Aren’t you from the circus’ performance? Why are you doing this menial labour
with me? How do you even know about it?”
“Oh, I’ve been with the circus a long time. I know pretty much everything there
is to know.”
“But you can’t be older than me, how could you be here very long?”
“Try I was born into it.” She said, turning back to her task leaving a very
confused Roxas staring at her back. Wasn’t there some law preventing that? Was
Roxas working for a dirty establishment? Oh shit.
“I don’t think that’s legal…” Namine turned around again, this time
exasperated.
“Roxas, I don’t think you really understand the inner workings of this place.
It’s for people who don’t belong. Me and my sister, we didn’t belong. My mother
brought us here, were happy. So please, stop trying to figure things out
because there’s to much stuff I can’t even answer for you because I’d get in
trouble.”
Roxas just looked at her.
“Please.” What could he say to that?
OOO
By the end of the day Roxas wasn’t sure if he could stand being around the
place anymore. The more people he asked questions to, the more questions he
got. The circus was strange, the people were strange, and he hadn’t seen Demyx
all day.
His shift was over, and he could do nothing by wander into the folds of the
tent, hoping to find him in his secret practice location somewhere behind the
thick folds. The further in he got, however, the more lost he became. He was
worried. Maybe he should just try and turn around quickly and get the hell out
of this place before he went insane. He would have too, if not for hearing
voices.
“Hello?” He called out, hoping someone could hear him in the tent easily. He
heard a soft ‘I’ll see you later!’ and knew his only potential saviors were
heading the opposite way. “HELLO?!” He tried again, beginning to panic.
“…anyone there?” A voice called back.
“Yeah, yeah there is! Um, I’m a temp and I lost my way and I’d totally be
grateful if you could…” His sentence died in his throat as he saw a tall, tall
man come out of the folds of the tent. But his tallness was not what made the
blonde mute; it was the man’s mane of fiery pointy red hair. His eyes, which
Roxas were staring into, were venom green with small tattoo’s underneath. What
was up with the circus and freakily handsome skinny guys? Maybe the circus
really wasn’t feeding its occupants. He hadn’t seen one fat person yet.
“You okay there kid? You said your lost?”
“Uh. Yeah right. Is that your natural hair colour?” He blurted, reddening at
what had just spilled from his mouth. The man before him just smiled, and
dropped his pants. He was indeed a natural red head, and so was Roxas’ face at
this point. “Oh my god.” His hands whipped up to his face to cover his eyes.
The natural red head howled.
“Oh my god, you should have seen your face! Seriously, what are you, 50?”
“Wait. What?” Roxas pulled his hands down, relived to see the red head had
pulled his pants up. “Why say old? Aren’t old people comfortable wit nudity?”
“That’s pretty young man.” The man laughed, slapping Roxas’ back, seeing the
other’s look of confusion however, his face sobered. “Shit wait. You don’t get
it. Fuuuck, did you say you were a temp?” Roxas nodded silently. “Fuck. Uh,
forget what I said, hey you wanna see the show tonight? I’m IN it! Yeah, come
on, I’ll give you a good seat.”
Roxas allowed him self to be pulled somewhere yet again, wondering once more
about what just happened with the circus people. He didn’t stop his
contemplation until he was dragged to the big top’s main room and was plunked
on a chair.
“You okay here?” The man glanced behind him anxiously “Yeah, you look fine.” He
gave Roxas a final slap on the back, and hustled back down the stairs, nearly
knocking over a poor old couple in his hurry.
Roxas looked down to the floor to see the red head approach what Roxas assumed
was Namine’s sister. He saw the man flap his arms about, point directly at
Roxas, then shake his head. The woman in front of him sighed heavily, than
backhanded him. The red head threw his arms out angrily, but after being kneed
in the groin, slumped away. The woman the turned, and looked Roxas right in the
eye, smirked, and then turned herself to stock behind the curtain. Roxas raised
his brow, were they arguing about him?
Staring at the place were the two had been Roxas could only run the facts
through his head again. Had they really been arguing about him? Better yet, he
had to hunt down and kill that bastard. Who the hell did he think he was?
Kill kill kill.
Roxas was sure he would have kept on the same thought line until the next day
if it weren’t for the fact that the light’s dimmed, and he realized he was at
another show. He watched with more rapt attention this time, trying not to be a
brat and ruin the experience like he had for himself the last time.
Just like Marluxia had said, it was a completely different show, right down to
the ringmaster. Instead, a willowy woman with gray hair and multiple piercings
walked on stage with a stoic look on her face. Her delivery was different, and
Roxas could have sworn she gave everyone chills when see introduced the first
act. She introduced herself to the audience as Paine.
The contortionist had different name, props; even the costume colours and
styles were altered. People were doing stage combat, acro dancing…there were
almost no talents repeated from the last show. Roxas had to double-check it was
the same place. One thing that did not change, however, was the finale. The
lights still flickered on and he still heard Paine’s confident voice telling
people about what a rare and unusual find elemental illusionists were, only one
thing had been altered.
The obnoxious red head from before stepped on stage. The outfit he was wearing
was completely different from the jeans and t-shirt he’s be wearing earlier,
instead he had on silken billowy pants and a flowing top with pooling long
sleeves, all a gorgeous golden orange with crimson lining and delicate flowing
circle pattern in the same colour. He bowed to the audience, stretched his
hands out and free from the sleeves, and set flames burning just over the
surface of his palms.
Roxas could only stare numbly at the miraculous show of floating, stretching,
expanding fire. The guy laughed the entire time, always coming just close
enough to the flame to make people gasp before avoiding it by either bending
the flames away or extinguishing them completely. How could an asshole that
flashed a minor be this talented? Roxas boiled; the douche bags always had all
the talent. He eyed the woman’s purse he been plunked next to. Maybe he
wouldn’t be so cool if he had an object hammered at him. But no. He had to work
for the rest of the circus, and he couldn’t do that if the idiot screwed up
after being beaned and burned the place down. Oh well, maybe later when he
wasn’t near flammables.
OOO
The night was cold, the rain pelting down from the heavens harder than the boy
could handle. He was still weak from his captivity, but the mild summer water
allowed himself to snap out of the haze that always seemed to hang over his
mind.
And he ran. The boy tripped over the pavement, scurrying past the shrubbery
adorning the yard. Free, he had to be free. There was a muggy wind whipping at
him from the south, he followed it, fighting its nasty bite. If it were hotter,
it was must be from a completely different place than he was now. All he wanted
to do was get away from his current haunt.
He ran for hours, once and awhile having to pick himself up off the slippery
ground and keep on going. I have to live.
Soon a harbor large and deep stretched before his gaunt fingers, he cried;
tears mixing with the rain in a messy blur. He saw nothing in the harbor but a
huge pillar of water and debris heading towards him. The boy threw his head
back, and laughed through his tears, straightening and flinging himself into
the waiting water below. Wherever the sea took him must be better than what he
had here.
Lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating him for the first time in years.
He lost consciousness, letting the wind take him into the hurricane.
Next time he woke up, he’d be free.
OOO
The next couple of weeks went fast for Roxas, he cleaned, he worked for the
circus, and he avoided Gloria as best he could. At his job he never really saw
the red head around much, after their second meeting he was beginning to think
the man was ignoring him.
He had stalked into the circus the next day, steaming. He had a mission, and it
was a seek and destroy on flame-o. When he had found the man lounging on a
couch talking to the curvy blonde from the other night he ducked behind a tent
flap. How to seek his revenge? Staring at the ground hard for a few minutes, he
studied the floor; it was covered in a tarp that shimmered faintly in the
indoor lighting. Nothing was really sitting around except a rather saucy pair
of panties, which Roxas gently shoved away with his toe, blushing. He also saw
one of Demyx’s buckets. Perfect. Grabbing it quickly, he ran up to the red
head, allowing some of the water to slosh over his leg a bit.
“This is for flashing me asshole!” He screeched, flinging the bucket of water
over the man. He sat there blinking for a minute, and Roxas turned promptly and
stalked away. The only thing he could hear besides dripping was the blonde
woman’s hysterical laughter.
Thinking back, he wasn’t sure why he did it, but what was done was done and the
bastard wasn’t even man enough to come and face him afterward.
So Roxas continued on with his work, the day’s in august usually cooled
substantially into the late months of August, and soon Roxas was wearing jeans
to work. This not only made bending down to clean the stands a bitch but Demyx
was always twittering around him to enjoy the remnants of summer, to wear
shorts and tee’s. As much as Roxas liked Demyx, he couldn’t see the profit and
freezing his ass of walking home at night.
Roxas also made a few friends in the big top, there were 21 people in the whole
group, and the more sociable one’s would often walk up to him and chat.
Larxene, Roxas found out, was the curvy blonde he’d found hanging around. A
couple of hours after Roxas soaked the red head she came up and slapped him on
the back, hard and told him what he did was possibly the best thing she’d ever
seen. She also said if he ever did it to her she’d skin him, Roxas was wary of
her. He also meet Ventus, who looked startilingly like him, and his friends
Terra and Aqua.
Marluxia also turned out to be a trip. In the sense that the more he talked to
the man, the crazier he seemed. He made all the costumes for the circus, but
left his for last, always even if he performed before the other people. When
Roxas asked why, Marluxia would only reply in the most cryptic ways. Mumbling
things about ‘messing with his flow’ or ‘good karma leads to quicker
discovery’. The man was weird, but Roxas discovered when he was hunched over
his sewing machine the man would answer almost any question, even the one’s he
would typically avoid. They never made much sense though, mostly he say he had
plenty of time left? It was like he was convincing himself of something, either
way he wasn’t getting much information from the man.
All and all Roxas liked the circus folk, they were eccentric and didn’t give
shit about how crazy they seemed to others. And when Larxene went out in the
middle of the night piss drunk with a tazor they were just lucky all the seemed
was odd. He wished he could open up to them more, but every time he went to
open his mouth and talk about himself, he stopped. What if they were just
pretending to like him? After all, he was just a temp. As much as they played,
pantsed people and drank, he couldn’t shake a gleam of dishonesty from some of
the things they said.
Eventually, Roxas looked at the calendar and saw that it was almost the end of
the month. The circus was leavening in a few days. He wasn’t sure weather to
laugh of cry; they had been both a pleasure to enjoy and a headache to figure
out. He never did get what Namine was talking about those few weeks ago. He
suspected he never would unless someone would tell him the truth. Doubtful, he
didn’t know why he bothered with people any more most of the time.
Either way, they’d be gone in 2 days, he left from the big top that night with
a heavy heart. There were just so many bloody questions he may never get
answers to.
OOO
The next morning, for some reason, Roxas woke much earlier than usual. He felt
lighter; somewhere something good must have happened to someone else. He didn’t
even mind any more that this was his last day at the circus. Almost.
Roxas poured his cheerios happily with the thought of his final pay cheque.
Munching on his tiny morsels of copyright infringed goodness, he didn’t even
notice until the last moment that someone was pounding on his door. Huh.
Getting up he cautiously threw the rest of his cereal down his throat before
reaching for the doorknob.
Standing in his building’s hallways was Hayner, looking at him liked he’d
killed his puppy. There went his good morning.
“Yes?” He asked, clearly not in the mood to deal with a bitchy friend.
“Dude, what the fuck? You hang up on me three days ago, don’t call, and don’t
stay around your house. I thought you’d been shanked in an alleyway or
something!”
“Sorry man” Roxas said. Shit, he knew he’d forgotten about something. “I just
got really busy, I got a job.”
“What, really? So fast?”
“Yeah man! Working as a temp for the circus.” Hayner balked, looking disgusted.
“Seriously? I though we agreed that place was shitty.” Oh yeah Roxas thought
tiredly. Hayner hates everything.
“Yeah, but money.” He stated, not wanting to argue how awesome the circus
really was to his idiot friend.
“Oh yeah.”
“Yeah. Now if you don’t mind, I have to get to my job so…” He slammed the door
back over his friends face, breathing a satisfied smile. The ignored the
pounding and another ‘WHAT THE FUCK?!’ and went to put on some real clothes. He
didn’t know why he had done that to Hayner, but goddamn it felt good.
Once had dressed properly, he waltzed out the door, into the hallway…and into
Hayner’s waiting fist. Roxas buckled, cradling his nose gingerly.
“See you later buddy!” Hayner chirped, skipping down the hallway and into a
waiting elevator happily. God. He couldn’t even have a fight properly without
some guy lying through his teeth.
His morning being thoroughly ruined he started walking to the elevator after
grabbing some tissue to stuff up his bleeding nose. It hurt like hell. He
walked down the street’s for a little bit, being stopped ever so often by a
‘concerned citizen’, A.K.A people indirectly telling him not to bleed on them.
Dealing with the people of Hallow Bastion was more torture to himself sometimes
than dealing with his bleeding nose.
Roxas didn’t want to go to his last day at his temp job looking like shit, but
at the rate he was bleeding out he’d be lucky if he showed up with more blood
in his face than on it.
His napkins more than soaked through he chucked them to the ground, ignoring
the disgusted look he got from a woman. At least his bleeding had mostly
stopped. He looked around Hallow Bastion, seeing the mess the city was in. It
was hurricane season, and the harbour had given them more than one natural
disaster over the past month. Nothing was worse than the first one they’d
though, coupled with a lightning storm. There were all kinds of report of
freaky stuff happening since that night.
He wiped his hand across his nose returning to his current predicament,
flicking any excess blood away, he hoped he didn’t look to bad. Oh well, he’d
find out soon because he was beginning to see the towers of the big top. He
frowned, at little sad that he’d never see the sight again, they were taking
down the tent today.
As he walked up he saw a joyous Demyx bounce up to him, waving like an idiot.
Until he really got a look at him, that is.
“Oh my god! What happened? Are you okay? Yeesh. MARLY WE HAVE A BLEEDER!” Demyx
grabbed Roxas face, staring into it with a little frown. Roxas wiggled away,
shoving his palm up to wipe his nose again. Coddling, eugh.
“I’m, fine, I’m fine…” He said, shoving his face into his now bloody palm
shaking his head in annoyance as he saw a panicked Marluxia run up to him
clutching an odd silver cube.
“Marly,” Demyx started “It’s Roxas that got hurt.” He said like it was the most
obvious thing in the world, Marluxia blinked slowly once before glancing
sharply down and seeing what he was holding.
“Shit, right.” The man stated, wheeling around and coming back briefly with
just a bottle of water and some tissue. “Here.”
“Thanks.” The blonde said, turning back to Roxas and handing him the tissue,
Roxas sighed, but took it nonetheless. He eye’d the box Marluxia had set aside,
what was that? Demyx grimaced, grabbing his wrist and leading him over to a
huge box and sitting him down on it.
“How’d this happen?” He asked sadly, sitting down himself. Roxas froze. This
was his chance to share something about himself with him before they left. He
wasn’t sure he could do it.
“I-uh. I had a disagreement with someone’s fist.” There, he’d gone and blown
his only chance to share in a panic. Damn.
“Okay, I get it. You don’t wanna share.” He glanced a the boy again with an
expression akin to regret “You can’t work yet though, it’s just gross until you
stop bleeding.”
“Mmkaph” Roxas slurred out through his tissue. Hayner had really hit him hard
he couldn’t believer he was still bleeding close to 20 minutes later.
“We don’t need you staining the tent” Demyx said, giggling while grabbing a
hunk of dampened tissue and wiping at his forehead which he’d bloodied up
earlier. They worked quietly together for a while; cleaning Roxas up, falling
into a comfortable silence while people bustled behind them. Roxas was
surprised no one was telling him and Demyx to hurry up. The man paused after a
bit, before scooting a bit closer to him “Did you know that there’s a legend of
fruit that when two people eat it, their destiny’s are intertwined?” Roxas
shook his head, lifting the tissue away from his nose. “Well, those two people
will always find one another, their destiny’s will forever go hand and hand.
Kinda nice, isn’t it?” Roxas looked at him. Why tell him this story? He was
looking at him so…expectantly.
“Well anyways, it looks like you’ve stopped bleeding.” Demyx said, clapping his
legs and standing up, shaking Roxas out of his thoughts “Come on, let’s go!
It’s your last day right? Let’s have fun!” He jumped up and scampered away,
turning around and motioning for Roxas to follow. The boy got up, following
reluctantly, glancing back to the box they’d been sitting on. It read ‘FRAGILE’
in big red letters, only Demyx would sit him on a box like that. Laughing he
followed his idiot coworker into the slowly shrinking tent.
Inside there was hardly anyone around, all the people having vacated long ago
to pursue other things needing to be done, it was kind of sad to see it empty.
Roxas gazed at the space were the silver platform used to sit, looking at the
large indentation on the ground. He kept getting himself depressed, but really,
what else was expected out of him when both his job and his only source of a
good time were being ripped away from him? He jumped a bit when he was pinched.
He’d forgotten he was with someone.
“Come on then!” Demyx said, smiling “why are you looking so down?”
“Well, it’s just that after today I’ll never see any of this again. Any of you
guys again.”
“You never know.” Demyx said, leaning on a pole.
“What? You’re coming back to this town again someday?” Demyx looked at him with
the strangest look on his face clearly about to say something. Leaning himself
more heavily on the pole, Demyx opened his mouth to as if to speak. Only to
feel the pole give in under his pressure, allowing the rest of the tent to fall
down on them.
“Shit!” Demyx cried, “I think I just knocked down the main support beam!” Roxas
didn’t say anything, to busy swimming in layers of shimmering white fabric.
“DEMYYYX” could be heard from the outside, someone clearly unimpressed by the
fact that he’d just toppled down the remnants of the tent. Roxas gulped, wading
to the direction of the angry voice and hopefully out of the tent.
By the time Roxas finally dragged himself out of the folds and back into the
blinding sunlight he was sure he could see the blood boiling on Luxord’s face.
Spooked, he scooted away, trying to make himself blend into the crowd of people
either gaping at the mess or laughing. He ducked behind Larxene, who wasn’t
laughing but wiping tears away from her eye’s looking satisfied.
“Did you do that kid?” She asked “I mean, if you did Luxord’s going to skin you
for it.”
“No, Demyx was leaning on the main support pole.” He said offhandedly, watching
the bump in the fabric that must have been Demyx move around in a haphazard
manner, looking for escape. The poor bump didn’t even notice a fast approaching
Luxord jumping over piles of cloth advancing towards him. He let out a small
‘ack!’ however, when he was shoved from behind in the direction of the exit he
silently followed the man’s lead. Roxas laughed, what a way to leave these
people.
When Demyx finally reappeared with a sheepish look on his face everyone
chuckled, and the ordeal was over.
OOO
The next couple of hours were spent undoing the mess the poor man had caused.
He’d made it 10 times harder to take down the tent. People begrudgingly had to
dive into the thing, find the support poles and drag them out, instead of
taking down all the support poles while the tent was up, eventually being left
with the main support. The poor big top looked like a deflated soufflé.
It took hours, and Roxas went to leave that night feeling exhausted and giddy.
He wasn’t going away from a huge tent that night, but rather a series of
smaller tents easily packed up in the morning. They’d leave early and never
return. He smiled sadly, he’d only really said goodbye to a few of the people
of the circus. They hadn’t really seemed all that sad to see him go, which
confirmed Roxas’ suspicion that they were only acting. It hurt him, but didn’t
surprise him.
The only person whose goodbye that Roxas was expecting to be big was Demyx’s.
He was so big into theatrics’, he was sure he’d throw himself at him sobbing or
something. When he’d gone to say goodbye to the other blonde it had been…lack
lustre.
“Hey” Roxas said, pushing the flap of the small tent aside, peering into the
confines of his personal tent. He found Demyx sitting on a huge pile of trunks
and boxes fiddling with a chunky sliver phone. “What’s with the ancient phone?”
He asked, eyeing the archaic device.
“Oh. This?” He said, glancing up. “It was all the rage 15 years ago.”
“What, your parents give it to you as a kid?”
“Sorta.” He laughed “You wanna talk about something before you go?”
“Before I go? Before you go. You know, say goodbye.” He squeaked out.
“Right, right.” He murmured. “Bye!”
“Bye…” Roxas said, not knowing what to do. Demyx was sitting there waving like
an idiot at him. So he turned and left, not knowing what to do or say anymore.
Standing outside the grounds he finally turned around to head home, shoving the
hood of his sweater up to cover his ears. This close to September Hallow
Bastion started to get really nippy, and he didn’t want to get caught in one of
the down pours they’d been having.
He would have kept walk to, if not for a voice calling out to him.
“Roxas! Wait!” He turned, seeing Marluxia running up towards him.
“Yeah?” He asked, slightly irritated. He already said goodbye to Marluxia, just
like the other’s and it had just as been disappointing.
“Just.” The man breathed out “Just remember we all like you. No matter what.”
Roxas started at him. What?
“See ya.” He called, turning back around and running back into his tent, hair
flapping behind him. Roxas shook his head; maybe he just wasn’t destined to
understand the circus folk. He shrugged, to late now.
So he headed back home, thoughts of his past couple of weeks running through
his head. He wondered offhandedly what had gotten Larxene so drunk she’s
tazored someone anyways.
OOO
A huddle to men gathered together in the nippy night air. They were all more
than happy to be leaving the town behind them. They could only ever handle a
month in places like this. The tallest man stood up straighter, clapping his
hands together.
“Okay guys. You all know what were doing tonight, personally it’s not my
favourite method, but someone doesn’t like the direct approach.” The shorter
man beside him shuffled his feet, embarrassed. “Anyways. We get in, we get out.
We get the fuck out of this city.” Everyone nodded happily.
“Let roll!” The shorter one cried, cringing at the chorus of ‘shhh’s’ following
his outburst.
“And for fucks sake, be quite.” Groaned out the tallest. The group moved. To
the city, it just looked like a few young lads having a night out on the town,
maybe picking up a transvestite for a go. The tallest sure looked feminine
enough. Little did the people of the town know, that these were no ordinary
men.
They had approached a tawny brick building the shorter one giggled and bent
over haphazardly. The shortest, having yet to say anything, kicked the other in
the knee as silent reminder. The tallest one followed up by smacking the
shorter over the head. They were to close to screw up now. The other stopped
giggling; shooting the other’s a dirty look through the dark. The other’s
shrugged, and began climbing the fire escape of the building. The final one
scampered behind.
Clattering up to the top of the fire escape, they reach their destination, a
lone window on the left side of the 22nd floor. The giggly one scampered up the
window ledge eagerly, popping open the window with a laser sharp knife.
Sliding inside the room, his feet meet with soft carpeting. He walked in
cautiously, glancing at the kid sleeping only a few feet away from him. He
boy’s face was scrunched up, his lips tugging downward. Even in his sleep he
looked guarded.
Shaking his head happily he slung the kid over his shoulder like a potato sack.
The tallest man gave him a disgusted look, which he shrugged off. He was way to
happy to think about other people’s opinion’s right now. Skipping out of the
room, he bounced the poor kid all the way down the fire escape and in his
boxers and a t-shirt.
Roxas slept through the whole thing like a rock.
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter 4
Aerith Gainsborough was a mild mannered woman, she always thought the best of
people and never doubted anyone. She did her job, lived her life and didn’t
expect anyone to do any special favours for her. She did however; get a kick
out of doing special favours for other people.
So when Aerith found a boy lying unconscious on the beach when she went to go
tanning, she of course she dropped her belongings and ran to help him. Once she
had reached the boy lying haphazardly on the sand she saw how thin and frail he
looked, and panicked. Aerith would never take a creature in need to the
hospital though, never. Aerith was the kind of woman who would take care of the
boy herself. So she heaved him onto her shoulders, picked up her discarded
items, and ran him back to her home.
Destiny Island wasn’t a big nation, but living on the main island did get
Aerith a little bit closer to civilization than the people of Costa del Sol
were she had planned on tanning that day. She knew it was best to take him with
her. The islands were isolated; she wasn’t even sure how many people knew about
them. For some reason however, it wasn’t uncommon for a random person to show
up claiming to have been swept away in a storm. The island was a magnet for
lost souls trying to find peace.
As she tucked the frail boy into the covers of her guest bed she wondered if
he’s wake up with a similar story to the others. She hoped not, the people who
got swept away always had the saddest tales.
Looking down at the boy she had rescued however, she was no fool. His body
wasn’t that of someone who was just thin, it was of someone who was starved.
His wrists were also a cause for concern, they were blistered and raw from god
knows what. She gently lifted one up, looking at the yellowing crust forming
over the wounds. She needed to treat this now, conscious or not.
Scurrying away she came back with antiseptic and bandages, expecting the boy to
be were she left him. She was not expecting, though, to see him sitting
straight up with a wild look in his eyes.
“Were…?” He started; shifting his eye’s frantically about the room.
“Your safe now” She cooed, softly pushing him back down onto the bed below.
“Now, now, we can talk later. Rest.” The boy started at her, mouth parted
slightly in fright, but settled grudgingly back into the bed, almost
immediately falling back asleep. Aerith’s eyes softened; the poor dear must
have been exhausted.
Humming slightly, she went forward with her task to clean and wrap his wounds.
Once the job was done she looked down on the sleeping figure, smiling sadly.
Once the poor thing awoke she was going to hear his story, but not before she
gave him some real food.
Walking into the kitchen she bit her lip nervously, she lived alone, and all
she had was a collection of light weight dresses, shorts, tanks and shawls.
Nothing a boy his age would want to wear. Making up her mind she ran out of her
little seaside home hurriedly, only stopping to twist her hair into a high
ponytail.
Jogging down a sandy strip of beach she eyed her neighbour’s home a short
distance away. The boy who lived there would probably have something in his
size she could have. Walking up to the front door, she saw her neighbour lying
listlessly on a hammock.
“Leon!” She said, smiling down at the man. He saw her, rolled around on the
swinging bed, and grunted. “Um, I found someone washed a shore. A boy,
actually. His only clothes are really damaged, so I though maybe you could
maybe lend him something? Please?”
“Ugh, another one?” He grunted out, unhappy with letting more of his clothes
slip away. “I swear you’re a magnet for them.”
“I helped you, didn’t I?”
“Well, yeah.” He admitted begrudgingly, finally meeting the woman’s pleading
expression. “Fine.” He groaned out, plopping out of his hammock and dragged
himself into his seaside shack, Aerith happily following behind him.
“Thank you Leon.” She said, beaming as he threw a red t-shirt and heavy black
cargo pants at her. She caught them easily. “I’ll let you get back to
your…contemplations.”
“It’s called brooding!” He called at her as she walked away giggling, he was
far too serious for his own good.
Heading back down to her own little spot of beach she slipped back into her own
home, thinking about how far Leon had come. He’d washed up on the shores of
Destiny Island just as this boy had only years before, he was much more hostile
back then. She could only note his softening character to his time on the
islands. This place was magical to Aerith; people came here when they needed to
be healed, and left again when they were whole. The entire process was so
wonderful to her, she felt blessed for being a native to the shores.
Padding into her tiny kitchen she dug around in her fridge, nothing really good
to eat, hm. Would the boy be able to go out with her if she wanted to get
something to eat? She doubted it, picking up the phone she decided to order
Chinese.
“Hello? Yes, I’ll have a Ton-pow dinner for 2 delivered to…oh!” She dropped the
phone, hurrying to the boy that was draped over her doorframe. Wrapping an arm
around him she picked up the phone, hearing a very irritated man on the other
end. “Uh. Medical Emergency, sorry!” She blurted out quickly before slamming
the receiver down, she had more important things to deal with right now.
“You shouldn’t be out of bed.” She said, leading the boy over to her couch
resting him on it gingerly.
“I need to escape.”
“Shhh, you fine, you don’t need to escape from here.”
“But, I need to-”
“Hush, your safe here, now what’s you name?”
“I-all I remember is ‘Sora’.”
“Then Sora it is.”
OOO
The two sat on the couch and talked for a bit while Sora was still conscious.
He didn’t know who he was or how he had come to be on the island. He said he
could remember being in captivity, but not what he had been doing in it or why.
They never did order Chinese food.
Aerith fawned over the boy incessantly that night, picking at his clothes and
pulling at his hair, Sora wiggled out of her prying hands. He wasn’t entirely
comfortable with someone touching him just yet. Aerith tried not to be hurt,
but his tendency to shove her off was strange. Everyone else she had picked up
on the shores of the beach had wanted to be held by her, cuddled by her. She
just didn’t get it.
But Aerith wasn’t happy just leaving the boy in a dark and uncomfortable state.
When the sky grew dark and the world of Destiny Island began to sleep she was
at a loss with what to do with him. As his eyes grew heavier and the night grew
longer, Aerith eventually gave up and dragged him back into her guest room.
Looking down at her newly acquired lodger, she sighed. Was there nothing she
could do for Sora? His lack of a past worried her to no end, and what he could
remember led her to think his past wasn’t something she should even consider to
uncover.
“I remember being hurt. I remember needing to get away.” He’d said, lifting his
baby blue’s to meet her own green. She had no words for him. How was she
supposed to comfort someone who had no idea what was truly wrong? She was
stumped.
Aerith Gainsborough was a comforting, motherly person. She had never been
stumped on how to comfort a person in her 24 years of life. Yet, she was
somehow floundering with how to calm one mild mannered teenager.
Was she losing her touch?
OOO
When Sora woke up in the morning he was greeted with something he hadn’t felt
in years. Warmth. Stretching out into the humid air, he was immediately wary as
to why he was able to move. How was he even able to have coherent thoughts? He
was feeling extra lazy, like he’d been asleep for ages. He couldn’t really
sense anything yet, still feeling his way out of sleeping beauty mode. Afraid
that some new drug cocktail had been given to him, he frantically tried to pry
open his eye’s. He opened his eye’s agonizingly slow, expecting to be greeted
with the same dark he’d been see for as long as he could recollect. Shockingly,
he was greeted with the hazy view of a bookshelf filled to the brim with
novels, garish pink floral wallpaper, and a plush looking chair in the corner.
Oh. It was real.
Somewhere in the middle of his conversation with the woman from last night,
he’d convinced himself that it was all just some kind of horrible
hallucination. He thought it was over, he wasn’t waking up after that night.
The woman- Areis? He’d though she was an angel taking him to the afterlife. But
unless he was truly insane he had really escaped. He didn’t think his mind was
girly enough to come up with something as feminine as pink floral wallpaper.
Sora looked around, peeping his eyes cautiously over the covers of his thick
blanket, having long since retreated back under the duvet. Even though it was
simply baking underneath the covers, he was too afraid to come out. His chest
constricted. Now that the initial relief of finding out he wasn’t in that, that
place was gone he was terrified again.
Where the hell was he? Why wasn’t someone coming for him? Was-was he just moved
to somewhere else? No. The woman had seemed so genuine. So? Oh god. Sora lifted
a trembling hand, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Ohfuckohfuckohfuck His breathing hitched, he had successfully woken himself up.
Tears streamed haphazardly down his face. He felt so alive right now, but soon
he’d be numb again, soon he’d be used again. Huddling deeper in the blankets,
he formed the fetal position under the covers, trying to shove down his
hiccupping sobs.
He wasn’t very successful, because he heard the scurrying steps of a person who
was clearly frantic.
“Oh my god! Sora? Are you awake? Thank god-” The voice stopped it frenzied
ramblings abruptly, Sora listened closely, hearing the foot steps stop before
slowly start up again in a more attentive way. “Sora? What- oh.” She laughed
out, throwing the covers off the boy. Sora froze, snapping out of his previous
position and scrambling backwards quickly in a stricken way. The woman stopped,
looking hurt.
“What’s wrong?” She asked dejectedly reaching a tentative hand out towards him.
“Sora…?”
“What’s wrong?!” He barked, “Well, your first mistake was not chaining me up!
I’ll kill you now before you get me!”
“What?” The woman said, her head tilting to the side, brows pushing together.
“I won’t let you keep me! I’m free!” Sora screeched, scrambling back ward with
every step the woman took forward and around the bed. By the time she reached
the end of the bed had Sora scurried to the edge of it.
“Sora.” One step.
“No! I won’t be held again! Never-” Two steps.
“Sora! Stop!” Three steps, she was in front of him.
“Why should I?” He screeched doubling in on himself and hunching his shoulders
forward, falling apart at the foot of this woman.
“Because I’m not going to hurt you!” She sounded so desperate.
“LIAR!” He cried, flopping his face back into his hands in defeat. Sobs wracked
through his body, diminishing the last of his bravado. The woman reached
downward to rest a hand on his shoulder, but he reeled away quickly, falling to
the floor.
His wrists hurt.
His head hurt. Why wasn’t she trying to hurt him more? What was she just
standing there looking down at him? He twisted a bit in his misshapen pile of
limbs, whipping his face roughly. The woman moved again, causing him to shrivel
further back and cuddle closer in the carpet he was now laying on. She didn’t
move any closer though, but moved to the chair he’d noticed earlier and sat
down gently.
Moping his face a bit more, Sora waited quietly for her to make her move, but
when he looked up he only saw her shaking her head and holding up her hands in
defeat smiling.
“I won’t hurt you.” She whispered, warming her smile a bit. Sora pulled his
hands away from his face timidly.
“Really?”
“Really.”
‘I-I don’t…”
“Shh” The woman said, getting up off her chair and walking out of the room.
Sora was stunned.
OOO
Sora was faced with a moral dilemma. Food or the unknown. Somehow, his long
dormant stomach made the decision for him eventually, pulling himself out of
the ball of comforter he had made around himself and yanking him towards the
alluring smell floating out of the kitchen.
For a long time Sora sat in the pink room, worrying and agonizing about leaving
his position in the possibilities. He didn’t trust that woman. Although he
hadn’t had any outwardly bad experiences with her, he couldn’t quiet silence
his outrageous paranoia. What if she was just trying to torture him by not
giving him any answers? After about a day or so of sitting about and sleeping
restlessly after their encounter, the only person that seemed to be torturing
him was himself. That thought alone was enough to get out of the bed on spindly
limbs and scuttle towards the scent.
When he opened the door shyly, cringing at the painfully awkward creek drawn
out of it, he looked out of his chamber and into the rest of the house. The
woman in the kitchen turned around slowly, a hopeful look adorning her
features.
“You like soup?” She whispered, waving a spatula over a pot of the steaming
aforementioned item.
“Yeah.” He squeaked out, darting his eyes around nervously, looking for
possible escape routes if something went bad. Eyes catching on a window he
darted towards it, unconcerned with the woman now pouring him a serving. He
heaved himself onto the ledge of the windowsill, gazing out inquisitively.
The sight before him was incredible; the sands were soft and white, gracefully
hugging the edges of the huge crystalline sea. The soft sway of the palm tree’s
whispered to him as the glow of the sun kissed his face. However scared, alone
and hopeless as he once was, this island was safe. He turned back to the woman
standing behind him, seeing her smiling at him again. The dark days might just
be over.
OOO
Sora was civil after that night, he ate silently but gratefully and didn’t
fight Aerith anymore. He was embarrassed to have to ask for her name again, but
the woman had just laughed it off. She was pretty, with her long brown hair
cascading down her back and sun kissed skin. She’d apparently be looking after
him since he arrived at the island two weeks prior.
Turns out he’d washed ashore then swiftly fallen asleep for two weeks. Other
than upsetting Sora though, it had explained why he’d felt so good after waking
up. He didn’t remember much of his life but enduring a lot of physical pain, so
it was nice to rest.
That is to say, all he did on the island was rest. He’d walk along the
shoreline, at first alone but then with Aerith, and just looked at things. He
felt like everything in the world was fresh to him visually. The sand under his
feet and the sun hanging lazily above his head all blurred into one curious
kaleidoscope of colours he couldn’t get enough of.
He was surprised less by the scenery however, and more by his own reflection.
Staring at himself in the mirror for the first time was a nightmare. His skin
was ghostly white, cheeks concave, dull blue eyes and shaggy long brown hair.
He looked ugly, ugly and old and tortured. He hadn’t talked to Aerith for days
after he’d seen his reflection, he sat in his room swimming in his own self
pity, eye’s low and dark.
When Aerith left to go to work Sora would crawl into a small ball and lie
dormant for hours until she’d return home to unfurrow. Eventually, Aerith grew
aware of the way Sora was acting. Being the woman she was, she was determined
to get Sora to live again. So one day as she went to go to work she latched
onto Sora arm, hauling him out the door despite his protests. He followed her
begrudgingly for 15 minutes until they reached a small building in the middle
of the business section of town.
Intruded, Sora followed a little more willingly as Aerith meandered into the
one of the buildings before her. Inside was a small dreary reception area and
past a door into an open room with equipment scattered all over the place.
Trampolines, barbells, balance beams, this place had a plethora of work out
equipment as well as things for more finely tuned skills.
“What is this place?” Sora wondered, circling his body around, careful not to
hit anything in his inspection.
“It’s my gym. I train gymnasts to competition level.” Aerith explained, walking
about briskly. “I want you to train with me.”
“What?”
“You heard me, you’re not doing anything at home Sora, you need a life.” She
stared at him sweetly for a moment, “Now get down and give me 50.”
OOO
Sora didn’t know what fifty was, or how to give them to Aerith, but wandering
around the room with her, letting her point out each piece of equipment by name
helped. As other gymnasts poured in, he began to see what was truly expected of
him. Even though Aerith said he never had to get to that level, seeing the
entire group of beautiful people mill around happily bending their bodies and
expertly was embarrassing. He tried to heave a barbell up once, and fell. Sora
really wasn’t doing well, but he wanted to be better, he wanted to twist
gracefully on the mat like he saw the others doing. One girl in particular was
amazing, she stretched and bent and flipped happily about the room, not caring
at Sora’s intense stare of envy. When she actually caught his eye however, she
turned and smiled, rearranging her limbs into walking formation before
strolling forward.
“Hey! Never seen you before, you new?”
“Yeah.” Sora said, blushing crimson “She found me on the beach.”
“Ohhh, I see. Well, don’t worry about it, you’re much better off now! Name’s
Yuffie by the way, you?”
“Sora”
“Well Sora, whadda ya good at?”
“Oh. Um. I don’t know, I know I’m not flexible.” He admitted sheepishly,
embarrassed he didn’t know more about himself except the obvious. How could he
possibly be anwear near these people in flexibility? He wished he’s paid more
attention to Aerith earlier, because he had no idea what any of the skills
practiced here were.
“Well, okay! We’ll just have to try everything then, yes? My personal favourite
is the parallel bars, but we’ll try you on something a bit easier first, yeah?
Here.” She walked over to a table, picking something up before heading back.
“Here” She chirped, handed him a willowy stick with a gaudy orange ribbon
attached to it.
“What do I do with this?” He asked, staring down at the offending object.
“You twiiirl it!” Yuffie laughed, spinning around the room, wrist expertly
flicking her own stick to follow her in elegant loops and waves.
“Uh.” Sora stretched his own hand out, giving it an experimental swipe for the
effect, the ribbon danced breezily, but feel flat again moments later. Excited
Sora took another swipe with the stick, seeing it spinning again through the
air. Getting carried away he spun once, letting the ribbon ripple with him.
Swinging his hand in the final flourish he giggled, accidentally letting the
stick escape from between his fingers. The object sailed through the air
spinning directly into another man’s head. Sora stared dumbly, watching his
ribbon soar away from him while Yuffie laughed in the background.
“Hey!” Cried a boy, waving the equipment around in his hand “What the hell?”
Twisting around he flung it back at Sora. Seeing a flying object rocketing
towards him did not do well for Sora anxiety. Heart pounding he whipped himself
back wards, leaning going as far as to force his hands onto the ground behind
him, making his body arch like a rainbow.
“Sora?” Yuffie said in a tone he couldn’t understand.
“Y-yeah?” He answered, to embarrassed to move out of his arch.
“I thought you said you weren’t flexible.”
“I’m not.”
“That” she pointed firmly to his position “Is flexibility Sora.”
“Oh.”
OOO
It turns out Sora was very, very flexible. Yuffie had squealed at the
discovery, telling him he was a prodigy. And that’s all he needed. He began to
eat more; he ate and walked, and stayed in the sun when he wasn’t practicing.
He and Yuffie spent hours together tuning his flexibility and learning tricks.
And like osmosis, Sora began picking up on her chipper personality. Soon he was
laughing and cracking jokes with all the gym members.
Jason, the boy he’s thrown his ribbon at the first day, soon became quick
friends with the perky brunette. Bonding with him became easy, as they were
both regulars at the gym alongside Yuffie and a few others.
“Hey, hey Sora?” Jason cried, rolling off his beam, done for the day.
“Yeah?” He said, coking his head to the side.
“Why do you have ladies hair?”
“What? I don’t!” He cried, pulling his ponytail in his hands, petting it self-
consciously.
“Yeah, you do. It’s in a scrunchie for christ sake!” he laughed, seeing the
other boy turn pink before him.
“I just…this is how I was found!”
“So, doesn’t mean you can’t cut it! I mean, come on a pony tail?”
“I guess…” He said, walking away to the other side of the room to carry out his
training, nervously stroking his ‘girly’ ponytail.
That day he walked home alone, not waiting for Aerith to finish closing up, he
deicide instead to head into town on his own. Investigating the shop heads and
vendors, he thought back to the conversation he’d had with Jason earlier. Jason
was a native, he remember everything about his life what he like who loved him
and were his roots are. Who was he to laugh at someone clinging onto things of
the past? He didn’t get it.
The people of this island, although kind and welcoming, didn’t have the
sensitivity that others who felt what it was like to lose themselves
completely. The one thing wrong with Destiny Island was not weather or
resources or people, but the atmosphere it’s self. Destiny Island was too
perfect, the people grew up in these warm secure bubbles, and when outsiders
came around, they were always pushed away by the perfectness of everything.
He knew he wasn’t perfect, he still triple checked his closet and locked his
bedroom door, at night. At the very least though, he wanted a chance to look
perfect. So walking into the nearest salon, he smiled happily at the woman in
front of the desk lifting his ponytail up carefully.
“Can you chop this off?”
OOO
Springy. That was the only word he could use to describe his hair now. Even
though the stylist had tried desperately, he couldn’t tame the mass of cowlicks
and spikes that had bounced up once he had cut his hair. He giggled, looking at
his ridiculous new hair, somehow looking at this huge chocolate brow spike pit
made him feel more alive. He wondered offhandedly what his hair had looked like
before he forgot. Probably the same, cowlicks like these didn’t happen
randomly, he was probably cursed with them from birth.
He wondered if he’d had a lot of friends. Was Sora even his real name, Aerith
said she’d been told it was by himself, but he wondered. He wondered about so
many things, he wished just one person was around that would ease his anxiety,
tell him who he was. But he wasn’t even sure were he was from; surely he’d
lived on the mainland?
He’d never heard of anyone talking about the mainland before. Ever. It was like
all that existed was the Islands. Tugging at his huge black cargo pants he’s
been wearing all week, he wandered farther away from the shopping district,
venturing deep into the palm trees and over growth by the beach. It was always
so quiet in the islands wildlife, the tree’s giving off the barest ‘swoosh’ as
they swayed around him.
Sora walked for what seemed like hours, until eventually he heard the roar of a
waterfall. Intruded, he walked closer to the sound, determined to find out what
the cause of it was. Brushing his way past a few trees, he eventually stumbled
upon a small clearing with a tiny water fall splashing into a minuscule pool of
water bellow. He scooted close to the edge of the pool surrounding the fall.
How was all the water staying in one place like that? Bending forward, he
reached haphazardly close to the falling water, running his fingers under the
spray. The water felt warm and comforting, and he allowed himself to jump into
the pool.
Suddenly, Sora felt the tug of a current he hadn’t noticed earlier, sweeping
his feet out from underneath himself. It quickly becoming more obvious were all
the water was going. There was a dark little cave; probably small enough you’d
have to crawl to get in, that all the water was being pulled into. At the angle
Sora had been staring at the falls, he hadn’t seen it.
The current was a lot stronger than he’d expected, thrashing about wildly, Sora
was struck with the fact that he couldn’t swim. His heart slammed against his
chest. He was going to die. He was going to die for being too fucking curious.
He cursed his own stupidity, what did he think he was going to find in a
waterfall pond? As the scenery grew darker around him he prepped himself of the
inevitable. But instead of being pulled downward into what he assumed was
another waterfall, he felt a strong arm warm around his own flailing appendage.
He was quickly wretched up into the musky air of the cave and thrown down.
Blinking water out of his eyes he saw the blurry figure of a man leaning up
against the cave wall, pulling off the long sleeved shirt he’d been wearing.
Sora squinted at him to get a better look being the cave was dim at best, but
all he could make out was that the man was fairly tall.
“You’ve gone and messed up my good shirt.” The man grumbled, half heartedly
wringing the article of clothing out before throwing it to the ground.
“Y-You saved me!” Sora cried, scampering back up onto his feet, reaching out to
cling to the stranger. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou”
“Eguh.” The man cringed, trying his best to worm out of the embrace that Sora
had latched him in. “Kindly get fuck off me now.” He grumbled, looking down at
Sora’s crestfallen face, he cringed again. “Please?”
“Okay…” Sora said, slumping back down onto the floor embarrassed. “So. Uh.”
“So…?” The stranger said, striding back to the end of the cave where he’d
apparently been sitting before Sora had come.
Wordlessly Sora trailed behind him, following the man to his seat in front of
an elegant wooden door towering above them in the cave. A lamp was situated by
the man, illuminating his face in its soft glow. He had elegant features, with
a long thin nose, soft pouty lips and dark brown hair falling down to his chin.
His eye’s were stormy and distant, looking at the door with an expression
between longing and despise. He turned towards Sora again, revealing a long
pink scare running from his left eyebrow to the bottom right-hand side of his
nose. It looked to be a few years old. Sora was about to say something about
it, when he was cut off by the searing look the man gave him, as if expecting
the question.
“So are you just going to follow me around?” He sighed, running a hand over his
face tiredly.
“Well, I don’t know how to leave here, so for now, yeah.” Sora said, skipping
past the man and going closer to the door. “Why’s there a door here? And what’s
with the no handle?”
“…It’s a sacred ground.” The man said, after a long pause, running a hand over
the woods grains
“Oh, cool! Why are you here?”
“…”
“Do you live close by?”
“…”
“So what’s your name?”
“…”
“Hello?” Sora said, irritated by the man’s silence “It’s rude no to talk to
someone, you know!” The man sighed again, burring his face into his hands.
“I’m waiting for something, yes, Leon, no it’s not.” He looked back up, out of
his hands, staring at the boy. “Done with the interrogation? Good. Let’s go.”
“But wait!” Sora said, trying to avoid irritating his savour more “I thought
you were waiting for something…?”
“I was.”
“And now?”
“And now I’m taking you out of here.”
“Oh! But…” Sora turned back, examine the door one more time, he traced his
hands over the outer edge, finally bringing it to the bottom of the floor.
Sighing in defeat, he made to clamour back up on his feet, grabbing the lantern
as he left. The movement of the tiny light swirled around the room,
illuminating the wall behind Sora. Turning around for one last goodbye, he
glanced at what looked like some childlike carving on the wall.
There was one of a boy with spiky hair, smiling and lifting a fruit up. Sora
stared, transfixed by the tiny carving at the base of the cave, looking at the
little boy crudely drawn face.
“Come on kid!” Leon cried, breaking Sora from his trance stooped over the damp
wall. As he got up to follow, it wasn’t until he caught up with Leon’s trail
that he realized he’d been crying. Wiping away his tears roughly, he looked
back at the door, fading into the natural darkness of the cave. What was up
with that carving?
OOO
When Leon had eventually lead him back into the open air, Sora was impressed by
the man’s navigation skills. He’s expertly lead him through a maze of tunnels,
skipping over the little streams weaving into the stone floor like it was a
walk in the park. He didn’t say much except for the occasional, ‘watch out’ or,
‘that’s poisons’, which left Sora a bit on edge.
By the time they had reached the original waterfall again, they’d been walking
for over an hour without a single word being passed between them. When Leon
reached the waterfall, he turned to Sora, slapped him on the back in an awkward
gesture of reassurance, and turned to walk away.
“Wait!” He cried, not ready to lose his companion just yet. The man didn’t say
anything more, but turned around to face him, eyebrows raised in a questioning
‘Yes?’.
“Um, I didn’t even introduce myself! I’m Sora! I’m living with Aerith right
now, but I’m hoping to get my own place soon!” He grinned, Leon had to say
something now.
“I know.” He said, turning around to walk away again, leaving Sora with his jaw
hanging open.
“Know? How?” He squawked.
“You’re wearing my pants.” Leon smirked “Me and Aerith are neighbours.”
Sora gaped; he must have known all along, the bastard.
OOO
After the little incident with the waterfall, Sora didn’t go out into the
natural sections of the island anymore. He stayed at the gym and worked on his
training. He was making quick progress, and had advanced quickly from basic
stretches, to the trampoline, to parallel bars. Sora put his mind body and soul
into his training, and gave up on friendships at the gym.
Somehow, after Jason’s comment Sora didn’t want to make friends with people
anymore, he felt he had given in too quickly to the other’s demands he get a
normal haircut. Either way, it hadn’t turned out like a normal haircut. He was
stuck without his old hair and without a perfect new cut. It hurt, somehow,
losing that last piece of his past.
He’d asked Aerith about Leon, and it turns out the man really was their
neighbour. When Sora enquired about him though, he was turned down, being told
‘If he wanted people to know about his past, he’d tell them’ she explained.
Which made Sora even more curious. Leon was also a person who’d showed up on
the shores of the islands, but their situations apparently couldn’t be more
different. Apparently Sora was better adapted then Leon to island life. The
thought that someone could be worse at adjusting to this place than him was
both amusing and sad.
Sora was a social outcast. To many people around him? He’d panic. All the doors
and windows locked? He’d panic. Wherever he went he felt naked and ugly
compared to the rest of the residents. Although he didn’t have any particular
hatred towards Aerith, the rest of the island was up for scrutiny. Every time
he was around other people he felt like he was squinting at their brilliance
compared to his gloom.
So Aerith did the one thing she though she could do for him, she took him to
church.
The walls of the cathedral were tall and echoing, allowing the choirs to carry
their voices high into the rafters, echoing in glory. The candles burned
steadily, glowing and flickering in the soft lighting. The woman sat primly,
hair swept up off their necks bound into thick braids and plump buns. And Sora
sat dismally, sweating his hide off while taking nervous glances at the heavy
woman beside him, heaving in the humid air. The service was just over half
done, and the woman’s breathing had become more laboured with each passing
moment. The last thing he wanted was for her to keel over onto him, drowning
him in her layers of flab.
As the mass neared its end, the choirs picked up again, swelling into the
chorus with delicate harmonies. He looked around the room bored, not really
caring much for being dragged to this affair, when he noticed something about
the women. Slowly, one by one, he saw them pulling out hankies and tissues, or
delicately using their sleeves to mop up tears. Everyone, slowly but surely,
was weeping. The men too, soon started sniffing rapidly and rubbing their eyes.
Sora was dumbfounded, how could so many people be moved by something like a
song? The lyrics weren’t even that sad, being something about ‘being saved by
the almighty one’. So why was everyone around him crying, leaning on one
another, and finally, clapping. When the song ended the church erupted into a
thunder of applause for the small choir. He looked to his other side, and saw
Aerith herself clapping fiercely, letting her last tears slide down her face.
Walking out of the church he was equally stumped, how was everyone so moved by
such a performance? The choir wasn’t that good. It wasn’t until he was back at
Aerith place, underneath the sheets of his bed that he finally gave up on
questioning the peculiar turn of events. Instead, he was left with a cold, numb
feeling. He didn’t get it. Once again he was left out of the group. He was part
of a community that didn’t share any of his beliefs or values; he was alone in
the world. Which would have been okay, really, if he’d had something else to
remember or believe in. But he didn’t.
Sora was left in a world were he didn’t agree with the present, but had no past
to hold onto. All he was left with was his own anxiety and numbness.
The dark days were far from over.
 
A/N: I have to say I really struggled with this chapter, Sora is a hard
character to write for me, because he's naturally so cheery and i made him go
through so much... :c
I honestly don't know how I did on this one, without my beta I'm a bit lost.
Hope everyone enjoys it anyways though! Again thanks to everyone for the
stellar reviews, a lot have people have been speculating about Sora and things
regarding Roxas’ past, all I can say is sit tight and all will be revealed <3
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!