It was no secret that Axel had a big fancy for the head cheerleader in their school (fancy, not crush, because only the giggly and annoying gum-chewing girls twirling their split-end hair in the hallways called it that), but it was still a secret on whether the feeling was mutual. It was the Main Thing in school, and time was going fast with only a few months left until they tossed their hats and parted ways. All the drama with that was unnecessary, but one had no choice but to be a part of everything when living in a town small enough to be called a village.

Because honestly, no one really attended the football games on Saturday afternoons anymore, but in their town-village, the only other option of passing one’s weekend was skateboarding on the abandoned airport runways, if one was up for the three mile walk to it. Axel terribly lacked the balance to be a skateboarder, so he let his friends drag him out of bed and push him onto a cold metal bench at the ungodly hour of two in the afternoon every Saturday.

He would have complained about it until well after graduation had it not been for a little dancer garbed in the school’s blue and gold, jumping onto the field with socks up to the knees and a skirt meant to be too short, shaking plastic pom-poms and blinding him with a white smile that pearls would envy.

All he had to do was a simple twist to send the skirt bouncing and Axel was gone, gone, gone.

“Lemme hear your name, sugar,” Axel asked him after the game, crunching on the last slivers of his mint so that the smell would reach the cheerleader’s nose.

“Go beat it elsewhere, cocksucker,” the dancer snarled, and looked positively miffed when Axel choked on his mint and laughed his heart out.

He couldn’t leave him alone after that, especially when he noticed Roxas sitting in the corner in three of his classes biting his pencils and slapping bobby pins on his bangs so he could see what he was writing. Roxas always looked so focused no matter what he was doing and finished it as fast as possible — and once Axel dragged him into his life, they noticed they were complete opposites on this matter.

“Finish your worksheet,” Roxas hissed at him as he pushed a bobby pin back in place. As if to emphasize his point, Roxas huffed, as if he was more annoyed than concerned. They had only been talking for a month now, but Axel already knew better.

“It’s only five problems.” Axel leaned back in his seat and put a leg on his desk because it gave Roxas another excuse to huff. “I’ll do it at home.”

“If you do it now,” Roxas growled, because he must have already said this a thousand times, “then you won’t have to worry about it later. So then you can go home and do…whatever stupid stuff you do.”

“I think you know what I do,” Axel said with a suggestive tone, and swirled his eyes down to Roxas’ pleated uniform skirt draped over his pale thighs. He then wriggled his eyebrows, but unfortunately had to stop when Roxas shoved a hand in his face.

One simple nose-crunch was hardly enough to get Axel to stop slamming the doors shut to make that one miracle breeze send that skirt flying. He explained to Roxas that in his defense, he thought that from all the flips and leg-throwing in cheerleading, Roxas would have been used to flashing his panties by now. That earned him a kick in the shin that bruised a lovely green color, and Axel lessened up slightly after that.

“You’re pretty feisty for being a football game panty-flasher,” Axel mocked-whined while rubbing a freshly-slapped cheek. Roxas cocked a skeptical eyebrow — he had known Axel long enough to know not even to bother responding to that — and turned around.

“So why do you even bother?” he half-asked half-whispered, crossing his arms.

Axel could only shrug and smile the smile that Roxas hated so much. “Dunno.”

It quickly got to the point where Roxas accepted his fate, and they were no sooner eating lunch together and climbing to the top of the gossip grapevine. There wasn’t much to talk about, really, seeing as Axel usually had to do all the talking for Roxas.

“I don’t get it,” Axel said, waving his sandwich and spraying lettuce everywhere possible. “You’re the cheerleading captain and yet you’re not glued at the hip to those other girls on the team. You’re breaking so many high school clique laws that my heart breaks at the sheer thought.”

“That’s too bad.” Roxas stuck up his nose. “So what if I just don’t like hanging out with them?”

“But that’s the thing,” Axel argued back. “You don’t seem to hang out with anybody. You’re all smiles on the field flashing your underskirt but then turn into Mr. Gloomy once you’re not dancing. And hey, you seem like a decent guy when you’re not looking like you want to bite someone’s head off and drink their blood. So what’s up?”

Roxas’ eyes went wide and his mouth moved but made no sound. For once, he looked completely bare and unhidden, stripped right down to bone with no cover. The look was brief, because then Roxas stood right up, grabbed his meager lunch and stomped away without another word. Axel knew he hit right at the problem, but it must have been too much for one day. Roxas wouldn’t speak to him and Axel wouldn’t stop going to the games until Roxas got the guts to finally come up and talk.

It was, of course, written in high school rules to interrogate the close friends first before speaking with the actual target, but with Roxas lacking any friendships, he would have to dig deeper. Demyx slung an arm around his shoulders and always looked like a shady dealer when using his hand gestures to help describe the latest news on the grapevine, but he was the best source and one of those guys anyone could tell anything.

“So here’s what’s happening,” Demyx said, looking behind him to make sure no one else was listening in the noisy hallway. “Kairi and Namine, right? They’re about the closest you can get to Roxas, and even they are stuck in the dark ninety-nine percent of the time. But they spilled something that could help you get back on track with your cheerleader.”

“Which is?” Axel said sternly; damn Demyx and his obnoxious dramatic pauses.

“Apparently, when Roxas does take the time to talk to them, he only talks, you know, cheerleading stuff. Dance moves, practice times, whatever the hell they do. But they did say that you’re one helluva special case because they’ve never seen Roxas have such a long attention span with anyone. Thus concluding that you’ve still got a chance to patch things up with him.”

Axel gave him a long stare before smacking the side of Demyx’s head. “I just need to know how, idiot. That’s why I made you ask them!”

“Did not!” Demyx defended, punching Axel in the arm. But Axel was too exhausted from this situation and let it drop there.

After some pacing and doodling in class, he developed a plan of sorts — at least it was better than nothing. He scratched out the idea of putting notes in Roxas’ locker — again, meant for the gum-chewing giggly girls, not him. Tossing flowers towards Roxas on the field after his performances was another option, but he was seriously convinced Roxas would bite the buds off and spit them back in his face.

The best choice, then, was to corner Roxas at his own house, and pray he wasn’t arrested for stalking.

“How the hell did you find me?” was the first thing Roxas said to him after two weeks of a No Speaking Basis. He opened up his window when a rock hit the glass, and was tempted to throw something back at Axel down below.

“By not-stalking you, of course,” Axel replied. “Am I allowed to dirty my feet on your living room floor or do I still only deserve talking to you outside?”

“We’ll see how I feel once you explain why you’re here.” Roxas placed his elbow on the windowsill and chin in his hand, giving his full attention. Axel told his breathing to calm down; it could have been his one chance to get Roxas talking to him again.

He always danced around subjects in the past, but with Roxas, he couldn’t afford to do that.

“I’d like to take you out on a date,” he said simply. No exaggerations or fancy words followed; it was just that phrase. “I’ll get all my homework done beforehand so you won’t have to worry about that. And if you don’t want it sappy and romantic, fine — we can still just have fun.”

He kept his gaze locked with Roxas’, barely blinking or breathing despite how mad his heart was racing, because he might lose sight of the boy if he closed his eyes even for an instant. Roxas’ expression didn’t change, but Axel swore that maybe his eyes look bluer.

“Come back at six,” Roxas declared, pushing away from the windowsill. “Don’t dress as if you live on the street. And I will know if you’re lying about your homework.”

The window snapped shut, and Axel’s arm only half-shot up in pure, sweet victory before he realized he had to race home and do all his work before six o’clock.

He surprised himself by getting everything done in less than two hours, and then turned his room into a disaster zone trying to find the right outfits with the right cologne with the right shoes. He went with black and pinstripes and left with a bundle of snipped purple pansies from his mother’s garden, leaving quickly to prevent being chased down for doing that.

He tried to look cool by putting an arm on Roxas’ door frame and leaning on it in hopes that it would hide just how fast his heart was beating, and oh, Roxas looked so lost and beautiful when he opened the door slowly and revealed a frilly skirt with pink trim and shoes just barely comfortable to walk in. His heels and patterned sweater were black, and the bobby pins were still cluttered in his bangs. Axel bowed partially before stepping forward to pluck out a few pins and trap the flowers between them and Roxas’ hair.

Roxas said nothing to that but there was just enough light for Axel to see the flush spreading over the boy’s cheeks.

“Your chariot awaits,” Axel said, linking their arms and walking towards the town center.

Axel found that he had to take the reins on this because it was adorably obvious Roxas had never been on a date before in all his years of high school or even middle school. Some high schools laws, he decided, were definitely meant to be broken, and he would break them until they were taboo.

They hit the fifties-style diner first because Axel liked to think he was old-school like that. He watched his actions closely because he didn’t want to scare his date off, but remained lose to keep tension from ruining their night.

He couldn’t deny being surprised to see Roxas wolf down an entire hamburger, eat all his fries and Axel’s, then request a slice of chocolate cake and a root beer float for dessert. Either Roxas was at his prime in his male metabolism, or he was just trying to make good use of Axel’s wallet, or, upon deeper thinking, was using both of those to his advantage. Sneaky brat.

“Are you going to finish-”

“No.” Axel slid his half-eaten salad over to Roxas. “Engorge.”

It was also considered old-school to go to the movies after dinner, but Axel liked to be hip with modern times and brought Roxas to the arcade instead. There was no way Roxas could even dream of beating Axel at racing, but it was almost frightening at how good of a shooter Roxas could be.

“Know what you should be?” Axel said, growling when he missed the target again. “A sniper. Except, you’d probably make me your first hit once you get the job.”

“So long as you don’t rob any banks.” Roxas got the last target square between the eyes. “But I won’t make any promises.”

They could only spend an hour at the arcade, because Roxas was the responsible one and always ensured he was in bed by 10:30. Axel made sure they left just a little bit early to take a brief walk over the bridge to see the city lights reflected on the glassy river underneath. Roxas was on his arm, leaning against Axel’s body and sighing when Axel freed his arm to move it around Roxas’ waist.

“You’re insane,” Roxas noted on the walk back to his house. Axel laughed and ruffled the mess of blond hair, making the bobby pins and pansies twist out of place.

“You’re welcome.”

It was difficult to break that rule where there had to be awkward moments at the date’s front door, and Roxas sure showed it by twirling the ring on his index finger and looking down at his bare toes.

“So...so I’ll see you tomorrow,” he muttered, one hand on the door handle.

“Yeah.” Axel took the risk of placing his hand on the side of Roxas’ head, just so he could feel what that blond hair felt like one more time. He straightened the bobby pin with the pansies, then let it drop at his side.

He barely took a full step to leave when Roxas suddenly lunged forward and grabbed his red hair. Axel yelped — a yelp that was really uncool of him, but whatever — but with Roxas’ cherry-lip-balm lips over his own, he was hardly one to complain. He moved quickly, wrapping his arms around Roxas because like hell he was going to let the kid escape now, and was gone, gone, gone.

They could have been spared all the No Speaking Basis drama if they just came to face the facts about each other, but either way, it worked out well enough.

It was probably a mistake to text Demyx about it, because anybody who was anybody at school knew all the details before eight a.m. the next day. Roxas was very close to strangling him, but instead went with crossing his arms and glaring the entire day. Axel knew better, though, and flicked a paper football to Roxas with a sickeningly sappy love note written inside. It at least got Roxas to smile, if only because Axel’s stupidity was becoming less annoying and more endearing.

There were only a few more football games until the end of the season, and Axel could only make so many more panty-flashing jokes before Roxas really got sick of them. Then they would be tossing their hats and off to their individual lives for the next few decades. It was twisting all sorts of things in Axel’s chest, but he doubted he was the only one.

“What am I going to do without my little cheerleading captain to keep me company?” he asked Roxas. So long as they were on the roof, Axel could play with the hem of Roxas’ uniform skirt as much as he liked, and if it was a particularly good day, a miracle breeze would be in his favor.

“The community college is five minutes away from your house,” Roxas said, tugging at Axel’s uniform jacket. “And the carpenter you’ll be working with is five minutes away from that. Stop being a drama queen about it.”

“Kinda hard to help.” Axel stopped playing with the skirt and propped his hands on Roxas’ waist, looking at him directly into his blue-blue eyes. “All right, I’ll stop.”

“You better.” Roxas stood on his tip-toes, a sign for Axel to bend down a little so they could actually reach each other’s lips. Axel couldn’t bite back the smile when they kissed, and Roxas always complained at how contagious that could be.