When the charcoal was scrubbed free from his palms and there were no longer any personal obligations, Roxas’ back made love with the cushions of his sister’s lumpy couch. Holding a book above his face, the novel was a mind-numbing classic he had accidentally managed to drop on his face multiple times throughout the reading process, and he was growing frustrated with himself. To be frank, his interest in the piece of literature was minimal at best, and he was beginning to wonder if he should reevaluate exactly how he picked his reading material because Roxas could only take so much Victorian romanticism in one sitting. In fact, Roxas was gradually developing a personal vendetta against the Brontë sisters, and he was an iota of a second away from locating their graves and taking a leisurely piss on their resting places.

The book fell again, and he didn’t even bother to move it. The twenty year old had no intentions of finishing the story anyway, and instead of making the effort to save his spot, he simply turned his head and allowed The Tenant of Wildfell Hall to hit the hardwood flooring with a thud. Gazing across the room and out the window, he wrinkled his nose with a thoughtful expression just in time for the sunshine to rip free from the unlit apartment and submerge him in darkness too inky for midday.

 “Fuck,” and as the word left the back of his mouth, Roxas’ intestines threatened to worm their way up his throat and out from between lines of teeth like a writhing snake. Instantly dilated eyes followed suit, and he gripped the cushion of the sofa before acknowledging the meandering fissure creeping through the splintering floor. Snatching up his phone before it fell victim to his blackened subconscious, Roxas was tempted to hit the deck and face what was beneath the floor head on, but he was decidedly good at running, so he propped himself up on the wide arm of the couch with crossed legs and rapidly scanned his contacts list.

Noticing the two Axels at the top of the list, his lips twisted to the side, and without paying attention to the denseness of the lack of light, Roxas slid off the couch and headed towards the exit door. Behind him was a demolition of his tarnished personal life, and he was terrified of looking over his shoulder because facing the actuality of his internal self was too much. He needed a kind of comfort he had pretended not to know where to find, and with a heavy sigh, he clicked the dial button while highlighting the number to the bar owner downtown. Placing the cellular device against his ear, Roxas took the creaky stairs down toward the back of the shop, through the storage room, and out onto Naminé’s store floor. Their shared apartment was directly above the business, and sometimes, Roxas wished she’d move elsewhere. She constantly had her frightening paraphernalia within an arm’s reach, and she could become threatening when she wanted to be. It made fighting for the television remote an unfair battle.

“Where are you headed?” Naminé’s words floated over the sound of his phone ringing. He wondered if Axel would even pick up for him. “It’s kind of early for you to be going out.”

He tossed a quick look over his shoulder and gave her a short pause. Naminé was leaned over the countertop with her elbows digging into the top of the checkout and a vial containing a peculiar purple substance that had what appeared to be the consistency of oil in her hands. She gave him a scrutinizing stare before parting her lips as if stumbling across a revelation. Naminé then shrugged and waved Roxas off. She acted bored with his existence when he knew she was actually encouraging him to go on and do his own thing with the person she was accurately suspecting.

“What a way to give your blessing,” Roxas said with a rare smile. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Did you go on and fuck things up, little boy?”

Roxas shrugged and continued out the front door. Making his way down the sidewalk, he would have originally turned his head and said something confirming she was wrong, but he honestly couldn’t. He had walked out Axel’s bar nearly a month ago with a promise to show back up, and he knew that hadn’t been fair. So, as he began his journey down the sidewalk while waiting for someone to pick up on the other line, Roxas gave himself plenty of time to dwell on his own stupidity.