Son of the Moon

Author’s Note: As you may have noticed, in the last chapter, the cheerful/amusing/hilarious mood was tempered with light angst. In the future, there will be more light to moderate angst. But fear not, for the humor will not end.

Thank you, the_assassin, Anorexic Muffinz, Elle, LostinThought, and TheVastOrganizationMemberXenjn. You continue to make me deliriously happy with your reviews. Lurve.

Enjoy. Pleasant dreams. The birth of the Cowboy.

Son of the Moon

Chapter four: ‘The good old days, the honest man’


~*~

‘On the corner of main street,
Just tryin' to keep it in line.
You say you wanna move on and
You say I'm falling behind—
Can you read my mind?’
—The Killers, “Read My Mind”

~*~

If Axel was anything—other than somewhat violent, womanish, illogical, and generally “creative”—he was honest and loyal. Painfully honest, and loyal like the determined stench of a skunk on your body. And now that he was almost fully equipped with Cowboy Crap ©, he felt pretty slick, too. Western, but slick. The two canceled each other out, or that’s what his mother told him.

He was almost fully equipped because his mum wouldn’t let him buy a pistol, and the metal detectors installed at all school entrances were there for a reason, although he honestly couldn’t imagine what that reason was. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that they were safe because Axel’s mum’s brain was connected in ways that her son’s was not—in other words: thank God her brain worked properly.

Years later, Axel’s mum would admit that she deliberately drank and smoked while pregnant, but chickened out halfway through. And that was how she got Axel.

So she wasn’t initially the best mother, but she loved him dearly now, at least. Poor thing.

Anyway, it was Axel’s time to shine. He had his leather trousers, cowboy boots, studded belts, empty gun holsters, jacket, hat, blouse, and to finish it all off: his spurs. He couldn’t be missed, even by the blind.

After his mum dropped him off at school, he strutted in, through the hallways, and into the cafeteria, where he knew he would find Roxas. There were ten minutes before the bell would call the students into their homerooms; he had time.

He saw the blond sitting at a table in the center row. His gray backpack was on the table, and Roxas was fiddling with his ipod. Hayner was nowhere in sight. Axel went forth to what he surely hoped was his destiny. He stood beside the blond for a moment before Roxas noticed him. Roxas gaped up at him, too startled by his best friend’s costume to turn tail and flee. The glow of his ipod faded, as if even it was stunned.

“Axel, did you totally outfit yourself with western-style gear?” Roxas asked. He then recalled Kairi’s text message.

“I have assless chaps, too,” Axel said in a very serious tone, staring down at the blond with unnervingly wide eyes.

Roxas didn’t know what to say about this. So he just waited for whatever the redhead was going to say next—and he knew he was going to say something, because he had that expression on his face like there was a large, hairy caterpillar in his mouth that he desperately wanted to spit out.

“LEAVE THE HANDBAG!” he wailed, leaping onto Roxas. “Come to the dark side—I don’t have cookies, but I can make some!”

“You burn things!” the blond screeched.

“A little burnt taste never hurt nobody!”

“Stop quoting freshman summer reading books!”

“Then just leave the god forsaken handbag!”

“I am not dating Hayner’s handbag!!” Roxas roared, trying to kick Axel off, who was clinging to his knees.

“It has mind control powers,” the redhead sobbed against his best friend’s thighs.

Roxas tried desperately to extricate himself from the redhead’s grip—he inched this way, and stumbled that way. He only succeeded in dragging Axel across the cafeteria floor.

Hayner was not pleased at the sight. He glowered, clenched his fists, gritted his teeth, and whatnot else, and stomped over the freak harassing his boyfriend.

“Hey, Cowboy,” he snarled, “you know that sunset you’re supposed to ride off into? There’s a cement one outside, go find it.”

Perceiving what was, at that moment, his greatest enemy, Axel composed himself, got up, dusted himself off, and wore a glare like it was vogue. He smirked when Roxas didn’t pull away from him. If Hayner’s deepened scowl was any clue, he noticed, too.

“Just remember, little lady,” Axel said in a confidential tone with a tip of his cowboy hat to Roxas. “The handbag.”

Axel then went off on his merry way.

As the two blonds watched Axel leave, Hayner shouted after him, “If you run fast enough, you’ll make up for your dead horse!”

Axel didn’t turn around—hell, Axel didn’t seem to even hear him. But Hayner’s last comment hit a nerve in Roxas. Hayner’s tone was that of complete ridicule; to him, Axel was scum because he was so freaking weird, and even worse because Axel couldn’t help it. Roxas was used to being the one to accept Axel, to offer him acceptance, which was something few people his age got, and which even fewer people like him ever got in their entire lives.

Since hearing about Axel’s sexual attraction to him and realizing that Axel’s attachment to him probably went far past the groin, Roxas felt threatened and pressured. He felt pressured because Axel hadn’t ever expected much if anything from him, but now the blond feared he was responsible for someone else’s happiness, for the wholeness of a besotted heart. That was something he wasn’t sure he could do. Roxas could try to be what Axel needed of him, but he wasn’t sure that he actually wanted to. And Roxas felt threatened because he could only think of one disastrous end result of trying: the loss of a friendship built on the sorely needed safety and trust for which they depended on each other.

The thought of losing that scared him. And as much as he wanted to avoid any thought of Axel for the time being, he let himself feel fiercely protective of Axel. At that moment, he wanted to beat Hayner to a fucking pulp.

‘Daydreaming, been sitting, the corner cafe
And I'm left in bits, recovered tectonic, trembling—
You get me every time.’

~*~

Roxas had a few more unfortunate run ins with Axel, who was now insisting upon calling him “little lady.” He was confronted by Sora and Riku during lunch.

“Okay, what’s the deal? What did you do?” Sora asked, apparently unnerved, which was rare for him. He glanced around for any sign of the new “cowboy on campus.”

Roxas winced. “I didn’t do anything to make him do this, I didn’t even give his wok-fried brain the idea.”

Riku and Sora were still staring at him, expecting his explanation. Like it was his fault.

The blond sighed. “He’s apparently developed a love for all things cowboy, especially the naked one in New York,” he said and ran his hands through his hair. “He’s not naked because his mom’s got a taser and she won’t let him out of the house naked.”

“Has she used it on him?” Riku asked, bug-eyed.

“Did you see his hair today?”

“Wow,” they chimed in unison.

“Yeah, that woman’s a maniac.”

~*~

Mr. Leftinoff, Kairi and Axel’s teacher for Intro to Film, was absent that day, so they had a free during his class. The two redheads sauntered out to the old, chained carousel in the back of the school. It was originally built in the eighteen hundreds—it was pretty plain in style, and there were simple benches instead of fantastically painted horses, unicorns, or mermaids. Kingdom High School was built on land that once belonged to a relatively wealthy Victorian family. A fire destroyed the mansion, so the school board was not guilty of destroying history when they chose to build a public high school here. They opted to leave the carousel, to humor the history teachers.

Kairi and Axel had a to-do list. Kairi erased the name “Roxas” from Axel’s list and told him to stay focused.

“I taught you a lot of stuff on Saturday about working backstage—props, some tech, helping out the cast, costumes, make up, where things are, and lights and stuff, although Fuu would probably be better for teaching you about lights. I’m not totally sure what we’re going to do yet. Er, you signed up to help out with the play, right?”

Axel nodded. He listened while he picked at the peeling paint on his carousel seat.

“Mrs. Fay had to ‘bright’ idea to have someone breathe fire during the ‘festive’ scenes,” Kairi said snidely. Axel perked up at the mention of fire.

“Is a cast member going to do it or what?” he asked, sounding excited. His eyes were wide and bright and already a happy grin was spreading over his face.

Kairi smiled. “Well, there are liability issues. She said that the person to do it would, first off, have to have experience. If she hires a professional, that’ll cost us a bundle that we don’t have. So if it’s a student, the kid’s parents are going to have to sign forms to cover the school’s ass, should the kid or other students get hurt. You good with fire?”

“I like fire!” he said enthusiastically.

“But have you done fire breathing, fake or real, before?” she asked, though she somehow doubted that Axel hadn’t nearly killed himself with fire before.

“I like fire!!!”

Kairi felt conflicted about this—she was hopeful, amused, and excited, yet now she had a sinking feeling. She wondered if she was willing to be partially or wholly responsible for the trauma of potential burn victims. She had visions of a theater being consumed by ravenous flames—victims with third degree burns, survivors with huge scars and scarred lungs, even damaged limbs, and charred corpses.

Kairi shrugged it off. The human species was having a population problem, anyway. The rest of the ecosystem would be grateful for the gesture, no matter how small.

“Let’s brainstorm. What else could we do? Itching powder in the codpieces and tights?? I hope I can persuade Fuu to help us out again…”

Unfortunately, they didn’t make a great deal of progress that day. They did, however, eventually get onto the topic of Roxas. Kairi tiptoed through the tulips, or around the issue since she didn’t have much love for flowers, and asked seemingly inconsequential things like, “Does Roxas have any interest in theater?”

At the mention of the blond, Axel’s expression fell. Kairi’s play scheme was apparently a welcome distraction.

“I don’t know. And I don’t think he’d have anything to do with it if he had to work near me,” he said sadly. He fingered the stitching on his trousers; there was an area of slight fraying—he wondered how soon it would fall apart.

Kairi’s lavender eyes glinted as she watched him closely. She must have seen something worth having, and saw that it could soon be within her grasp.

The play was, after all, Romeo and Juliet. She wanted to see how convincing the actors could be.

~*~

Now that it wasn’t Monday anymore, the trauma Roxas experienced concerning the new “Naked” Cowboy seemed rather unimpressive. Really, Axel’s recent interest in being a cowboy wasn’t too remarkable, considering his history of eccentric displays. He was still hassling Roxas, who was still trying to avoid the redhead.

On Tuesday after school, Roxas spent a bit more time with Hayner, hoping that his company would provide a comforting distraction. He was disappointed. Hayner was frazzled and jealous due to Axel’s increasingly hostile behavior toward him and the redhead’s advances on Roxas. He kept hissing about how Axel was so god damn weird, how he belonged in an asylum, and bashing the parents who’d raised him. And what put off Roxas even more was watching Hayner hug and pet his freaking metallic purple handbag like one of those useless, yippy dogs that dippy celebrities carried around like accessories. Roxas was tempted to ask Hayner if he’d named his handbag “Fluffy.”

He didn’t.

On Wednesday, Roxas hung out with Riku, Sora, and Kairi. Kairi’s quirks put him at ease; she reminded Roxas of the friendship with Axel before the strain of knowing about feelings. Roxas easily fell into stride with Sora—their smiles were similar to each other and they shared other mannerisms. The blond liked counting the details that made people ask them if they were twins. Riku was the same old—cool, steady, and always under the expectant gazes of his friends, awaiting the next momentary brain failure.

There were only two differences between hanging out with them now and before. First, Roxas had the feeling that they all knew that what was going on with Axel wasn’t inconsequential. And second, Roxas could tell that Riku was fast coming to realize that his “liking” Sora was a hell of a lot more than that. Even more than the “okay, maybe a lot more” than Riku thought.

Riku was getting antsy. Cool and composed as he seemed, he betrayed himself by his fidgeting with his black gloves and rubbing his fingers together nervously when Sora gave him a look lasting over two seconds. His aquamarine eyes followed Sora with an attentiveness that had a little pain at its core.

It was strangely amusing and annoying to watch someone fall in love with their best friend. If Roxas could tell, then Kairi could definitely tell, and Sora wasn’t an oblivious dip, so he either hadn’t bothered to think about it or was ignoring the signs. Roxas hoped it would end well.

Roxas’ thoughtful mood was broken when Kairi whispered teasingly in his ear, “’A rose by any other name would smell as sweet!’”

~*~

By the time Thursday came around the mountain, Axel had succeeded in making Roxas avoid him completely. As in, he’d immediately leave the room when he saw Axel, unless it was a class. But from what he’d heard, Hayner wasn’t faring well in Roxas’ affections, either.

Axel slumped onto the floor in a dim, back end nook of the school library. It was his free—no teacher could tell him where to go and he didn’t want to be seen by anyone who cared where he went. He threw his backpack onto the floor beside him and let out a long breath. He was tired of this, he didn’t like seeing Roxas unhappy but he couldn’t make himself stop. He couldn’t watch him go with Hayner anymore. Why was he dating Hayner anyway? He never seemed too keen on him, before dating him or now—was it just the sex?

…Who was on top more often…?

Then Axel’s jealousy kicked into gear and he started fuming at the mental image—god damn it, god damn it! He snarled. He tried to think of something else, like his nice new hat that really didn’t deserve to be torn to pieces, especially since it cost fifty bucks and… Axel got a hold of himself— ooh!—and released the leather cowboy hat from his death grip.

If that hat had a voice box and a mouth, it would have sobbed for joy.

Axel willed his rage to fade into little embers. He hugged his knees and rested his chin on them. He missed Roxas, fuck , he did. He wished he had the power to stop this— feeling like this about Roxas. He wished he could just evict whatever emotion that’d holed up in his heart and make room for something possible. He wished he could feel this way for someone else.

But then there was no one else. He guessed that the reason he and Roxas were such good friends was because they seemed to be the only ones they knew who could offer each other what they needed. Roxas needed someone who didn’t judge him for anything he liked, did, desired, or wanted to do, no matter what those things were. Axel called Roxas a douche for liking “Carameldansen,” but Roxas knew he didn’t mean it; Axel didn’t think anything of it. It was just one thing that Roxas liked, that’s all—fact with no opinion attached. Axel was the only one of their friends who didn’t give a second negative thought to Roxas’ car, or the fact that the blond really liked his somewhat freaky Deathmobile.

And Axel was…an undeniable freak. That label would no doubt follow him for the rest of his life, and he needed someone who didn’t give a damn and wouldn’t back off when he inevitably did something strange. Roxas was sometimes scared or shocked by Axel’s behavior, but that was understandable—remember that gear shift? But the blond never thought Axel was weird. Roxas sometimes called Axel a freak in conversation, but Axel knew Roxas didn’t really think he was a freak. Roxas thought he was off-kilter, definitely, and potentially dangerous, but not bad and not worth ostracizing. Despite being a major dip, Roxas seemed to believe that his honesty, loyalty, and occasional displays of unclouded above average intellect made up for that. And Roxas reminded people of that, when they cared to listen.

Even when Axel’s brain backfired, Roxas was usually the first person to tell him not to worry what everyone gaping at him thought. Though it didn’t seem like it then, he had a brain; no worries.

And Axel was the only one of Roxas’ friends who would immediately and whole-heartedly join in when Roxas started quoting characters from famous novels. Like Fagin, a Jewish leader of a small crime ring in Victorian Era England from Charles Dickens’ Oliver Twist.

Axel, who didn’t read classics, learned from Roxas about Fagin and Fagin’s pet raven, whom he called Ezekiel.

Roxas was sitting next to Axel on the steps to the school’s main entrance. The sun was high in the sky. They were waiting for their ride home and felt pretty cool together in their matching black coats. They felt pretty devious right then—like, in another life, they would have made awesome, elusive crime partners. They would have been perfect: they would’ve balanced each other out, making up for each other’s weaknesses and enhancing their strengths. They would have been the kind of pair most people only read about—inseparable, inexorable, like rot on a frigging log.

Axel caught Roxas’ gaze and his green eyes lit up with recognition. It was that look; Axel knew Roxas’ looks, especially that one. Roxas hunched over and rubbed his hands together like a seedy lowlife.

He growled in his huskiest accent, “Never trust ze goyim, Ezekiel.”

Beside him, Axel cawed like a crow. It was disturbingly authentic.

Didn’t that mean anything anymore? Did Roxas honestly forget all that?

Regardless of how Roxas currently felt, Axel knew that they worked together like peanut butter and jelly in the cruel, moisture-robbing cage of whole wheat bread that was life. And they worked because one was oversweet and one was too thick and rich. They needed each other to be balanced—they couldn’t go anywhere in life alone.

Together, they were delicious—high in fat, sugar, and calories, but still delicious. And totally awesome, except when on a diet.

~*~

Riku was pretty bad with names, including those of his teammates, especially when he didn’t usually talk to them outside of games and practice. Currently, he was practicing with Guy with the Orange Cowlick who said “ya?” a lot, and Mama’s Boy whose dirty blond spiky hair was the exact opposite of his fashion sense. Riku’s head wasn’t in the practice, but on Sora’s valentine, which he’d framed on the nightstand beside his head; now, the valentine looked even more pissed, if that was possible. The rest of the team was split up, some running laps, stretching, and calling out to the few girls who came by to watch them.

One of the girls trooping out to watch from the edge of the soccer field was—if Riku’s eyesight wasn’t failing him—Namine. Upon recognizing her, all the happy, gushy, stupid thoughts fluttering around that disgruntled valentine crash landed in flames; Riku hated Namine. She’d never intended to harm him, but Riku still wasn’t ready to forgive her for the week of trauma after she had sex with Sora in freshman year. The thought of them together made Riku’s heart pounded furiously in his chest. He picked up speed; he was running like a freight train with other teammates around the soccer field—if he didn’t channel his rage into some other physical activity, he was going to throttle that blond bint.

To elaborate: in freshman year, there was a confused, tense, and traumatic week when Sora liked Namine, had sex with her, and thought he was straight. This had the effect of something like an adolescent mid-life crisis for Riku, who felt as though his whole life was lost. In hindsight, that should have given him a clue about his feelings regarding Sora. But Riku thanked the cosmic forces that Sora’s brief “revelation” turned out to be a brief mix up in hormones.

…Still, Riku swore to God: before he died, he’d give Namine gonorrhea. At the very least.

Riku turned his thoughts to the weekend ahead. Stupid, warm, fluttery feelings made him trip and fall flat on his face. Or maybe it was the fact that he wasn’t looking where he where he was going and needed something to blame. Who could tell?

~*~

Meanwhile, Sora was contemplating suicide.

Hayner’s voice came burbling out of his cell phone, as it had been for the past half hour. Sora diagnosed himself with clinical depression.

Sora was innocently finishing his homework when he received a call from an unknown number. He answered it—his first mistake—and said “yes” when the caller asked if this was Sora—his second mistake. And then he had a whining Hayner bothering him about “quality time” with Roxas, that “flaming idiot” after “his man” and how Hayner honestly thought he and Roxas were like Lady and the Tramp.

Sora distracted himself by looking for something he could use to kill himself.

He was interrupted when his phone buzzed in his hand. He glanced at the screen—Riku was calling him.

“Sorry, Hayner, one sec. Riku’s calling,” he said calmly and switched to the incoming call. “Ohmygawd, Riku, save me! Hayner called me and he’s talking to me about Roxas and his god damn handbag, and now I believe what Axel says about him being a lesbian.”

“Well, why don’t you just…hang up?” Riku suggested sarcastically.

“I think I’m a masochist.”

“Er…kinky,” Riku said with an enthusiasm that he didn’t really feel. “Shut him up soon, okay? Do you still have your PS2 or did your mom take it away again? My dad borrowed mine.”

“Yeah, I still have mine. That’s a shame about yours.”

“Yeah, the next time I see it, it’s going to be in a casket.”

“We’ll have a prayer service when you get it back. I’ll get back to you in a bit,” Sora said. He girded his loins, clenched his teeth, and went back to Hayner. Hayner was sniffing sadly. Eeeeurrgh.

He let Hayner whine on a bit about Roxas and having a family and Roxas Junior and…what?

“Who is Roxas Junior?” he asked, terrified that Hayner really was a woman. Or had a few extra reproductive organs. And Roxas hadn’t noticed.

“My handbag,” Hayner said, sniffing sadly.

“You named your handbag?” Sora asked, feeling relieved. How did you give a man, er, a male lesbian…how did you give a Hayner an abortion?

“Yeah. Don’t tell Roxas, please. We’re gonna get married one day.”

Suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuure. No one likes you, no one likes you, not even your freaking handbag, you flaming douche! If you ever marry Roxas, he’ll be in a coma the entire time and you’ll be wearing a fifties dress every day.

“Please don’t tell him!” Hayner begged, but Sora didn’t hear him. The cell phone lay abandoned on the kitchen table; Sora had gone to find noose.

~*~

Urgh. Hayner is so useless. XD I hope you enjoyed chapter four, because I’m exhausted. Thanks for reading, and thank you in advance for any reviews you guys choose to send me.

“Daydreaming, been sitting, the corner café / And I'm left in bits, recovered tectonic, trembling— / You get me every time.”—“Goodnight and Go” by Imogen Heap. Speak for Yourself album.

“The good old days, the honest man” –“Read My Mind” by The Killers. Sam’s Town album.
“On the corner of main street, / Just tryin' to keep it in line. / You say you wanna move on and / You say I'm falling behind— / Can you read my mind?” –“When You Were Young” by The Killers. Sam’s Town album.