Fandom: Kingdom Hearts
Title: You Don't Remember
Word Count: 351
Characters: Axel
Notes: Set during KHII. Written for
kh_drabble , prompt: inexorable. (Read:
naiyad , this, you can read! If you want to, that is)
Axel blinks. “What?”
“You heard me,” Saix says, already turning, already walking away. “Bring No. XIII back at all costs.”
---
Roxas grits his teeth. “What is going on?” he demands.
Axel is surprised; Roxas’ lips are arched in a frown, his blue eyes glaring, confused, angry. What bothers him is how real the expression looks, more real than anything he can remember from all the time they spent together.
The thought burns in his chest. He lets the flames colour his next words. “Don’t you understand? This place isn’t real. None of this is real!”
Roxas hesitates, grip loosening on his keyblade. He looks around, taking in the frozen view - the townspeople, the sunset-coloured buildings, his friends, frozen in the act of cheering. He shakes his head, slowly. “You’re wrong.”
“No, I’m not! You don’t belong here, Roxas. You belong with us! With the Organization! With---”
“You’re wrong!” The keyblade clatters to the floor as he raises his hands to his head, eyes squeezing shut. “You’re wrong!” There is a new note in his voice that Axel registers immediately and the sound clenches tightly in his chest, quickening his breath.
“Listen--” he begins, reaching an arm out towards Roxas, his former comrade, his friend.
“No! You’re wrong! Hayner, Pence, Ollette. These are my friends. Not you! I don't even know you!”
That stops him. The words hang in the air, unmistakably heavy before moving to settle in his chest, weighing him down.
He lets his arm fall.
---
“What if he doesn’t want to come back?” Axel asks, calling out to the retreating figure. “If he doesn’t remember any of this, dragging him back against his will won’t be easy.”
Saix turns then, meeting his eyes, a cruel, sardonic smile playing on his lips. “Then you’ll have to kill him.”
---
Roxas picks up his keyblade, blue eyes shining with determination as he shifts into the fighting stance Axel remembers oh so well.
Fire blazes in his palms as Axel summons his own weapons, unable to meet his former friend’s gaze. “Please,” he whispers. “Come back.”