How can he say something like that? How dare he make something so important seem so little and insignificant, said with such ease as though it was an everyday thing. It wasn't. Something so large and fantastic - so rare - needn't be spoken by someone who barely derived meaning from it.

As if he understood. As if it mattered at all to him the effect it had on others.

As if he cared.
As if anyone did.

How can he say something like that to me? A person treated coldly to keep their distance, a person used merely as a tool. Just a simple tool to nullify his boredom.

How dare he make me feel this way. Needed. Loved. As though my existence in this cruel world actually held meaning, and if I were to disappear, someone would notice. Someone would care.

As if he cared
As if anyone did.

This overwhelming sense of security, a warmth, a hand to hold was nothing but pretence. A falsehood to make me fall into his stealthy trap, immune to his harsh words, his underserved ill-treatment as though I was a filthy rag to be disposed of after he 'had his fill'. Once was never enough; he'd leave but he always definitely came back. Every single night without fail.

Touch. Smell. Breath. Taste.

He'd take it all. He wouldn't leave until he'd satisfied that hunger, the need for warmth, even though he could never understand why he needed it, or why it was there. To him, as long as that thirst was quenched, by any means necessary, then it was fine. There was no need for questions or afterthoughts, because even I did manage to ask, he'd supply me no answer.

How can I let him do this to me? Times I have opened my mouth to speak, to reject his pleas for comfort, and found myself unable to speak. Complete intoxication; if there was anyway to describe it, that was what it would be. Denial was not an option, because there was nothing left to deny. He knew it, and I knew it, but he chose to ignore how I felt. He was ignorant of everything but his own requirements, except he, too, chose to ignore what he truly wanted.

He ignored everything he didn't understand, especially when it came to me. Yet he made me feel somewhat special.

As if he cared
As if anyone did.

Why? He'd always been selfish. Anything he did, he did for his own personal gain, although, from this situation all that was gained was some twisted sort of satisfaction and more complication. Of course, he would deny anything was complicated, because he continued to remain oblivious to anything I wanted, or to how many times I pleaded for him to stop.

I, one the other hand, was falling deep into this 'game' and I was loosing. I didn't want these feelings, I didn't want to like the way his sweaty palms felt against my skin, or how his soft lips felt moulded over mine. I didn't want any of it and yet every time, I couldn't refuse.

Something inside me stirred when I saw his face. When I can feel his presence, the place where my heart is absent suddenly fills with warmth and completeness. I'm not a fool; I know these are stupid, naïve feelings that shouldn't even be there, but I cannot help but allow my body to succumb to them, even if I get hurt in the progress. At least for now, to be able to feel something, anything was perfectly acceptable. Heartbreak, I could manage - not that I had a heart to break anyway. But deep down, I knew, that if one day he did end up leaving me, it'd hurt. Something inside me would break, because he was the one who made me able to feel.

As if he cared.
As if anyone did.

Is this the end? The way he sits, back faced to me, heads pressed into his palms, as though mentally exhausted causes momentary worry. My fingers itch to hold him, to touch his soft hot skin. To ease his pain, but I also need to ease my own.

Months I'd been waiting to hear those words, to offer comfort for my constant wondering mind. But those words unexpectedly had no affect on me; I felt nothing when they came out of his mouth. In fact, I felt slightly disgusted and irritated.

No, I won't comfort him. I won't get up and wrap my arms around his back to ease his pain just like he never thought to ease mine once. The minute he'd got what he'd came for he'd get up and leave without a word, despite my obvious feelings. But no, I wouldn't give in. He should suffer from time to time, too.

Bastard.

Is this the end? Sure, I had thought that he was completely under control by now. When I called, he'd come without fail. No questions asked, he'd allow me to do whatever I wanted and go without questions. Not once did her ever attempt to stop me, like an little obedient puppet he just lay there silently whilst I zipped up my pants.

There were times, when it all started, I would've happily just left, no words exchanged and he knew that. I could sometimes feel his gaze on my back, eyes willing me not to go, so intense I could still feel them lingering when I left. He'd never mention it, though. Too stubborn just like me, I suppose. To be honest, I was content with that - whatever we did never interfered with missions or our daily life because there was no need for it. We both silently understood that there were things neither of us wanted people to know about, or even discuss.

Although now things were different.

Because I cared.
Because he did.

Why? I had always been selfish. Before now I wanted things that were beneficial in some way, for my own personal gain I would admittedly do anything. However, with him, the situation was entirely different - the things I got from him were nothing like I've ever had before. True, it all started because I was bored and he new, fresh meat - cute, too! - and being stuck in this boring place can make you do strange things.

It happened one night, I'd just come back from a mission. There he was, laying there in my bed. At first I was confused, but heck, who cares? After two weeks of loneliness anyone would do, but after the first time, I knew it was strange. The weeks and months afterwards I found myself actually wanting to stay. Sometimes it took some sort of effort to actually leave the room, not that he'd ever notice.

He'd refuse to speak no matter what and I was the same; keep it simple.

Because I cared.
Because he did.

Why do I do this to him? It's for the simple fact that I'm greedy. I get everything I want and I want him. By now, he should surely realise this, then again, he's probably too stubborn to trust what his minds telling him is true. He was always like that. He never accepted something was true without sufficient evidence. I suppose I taught him that, because being naïve was never a good quality in this world - to get by, treat everyone as your enemy and keep your distance.

Fat load of good that did. I suppose I'm deserving of the name hypocrite right now; I was the one who closed the distance first and it was all my fault he'd fallen into that trap. It was unwillingly I had set it; I never wanted him to feel anything for me. I never wanted to feel anything myself, but sometimes things are just inevitable and you have to accept it.

He and I are very alike though; we're both highly stubborn. I refused to accept these feelings. A sickeningly sweet kind of warmth that filled my stomach straight to my head. Complete intoxication; I suppose you could say that. All I could thing about every time I saw him was how could his soft pale skin felt rubbing against mine, or how I felt when his piercing gaze met mine. Big, round eyes and skin tainted by my own hands.

He was mine and he knew it. No-one would be able to steal him away from me now, not that he'd want to be stolen. I knew how he felt, I could see it in his eyes every time he looked at me, every time he called my name, there was a soft and almost loving edge to it. And I liked it. I really did.

Because I cared.
Because he did.

I knew something had to be done. I didn't know quite what to expect and to be honest I couldn't care less; he still belonged to me anyway. And no matter what, I wouldn't allow him to escape so easily, now that he was wound so tight around my finger.

How can I say something like that? How can I let it slip so easily out of my mouth as though I'd said it everyday, as though it was nothing special.

Because I cared.
Because he did.

I expected him to comfort me, I expected him to tell me he had felt the same, because I knew he did. But he didn't. Just stared blankly at me until I got up to leave, accepting rejection with reluctance.

It hurt a lot, but I refused to let him see that. I would look him in the face, show him how much of a man I was and how I could deal with whatever ever life throws in my way and say,

"Got it memorised?"

And he -

Roxas yawned, stretching his arms above his head, then rolled over onto his side, snuggling into the pillows. The bed was warm and smelt of him, his warmth, his sweat. The whole room was tainted in it.

Running into his pleading arms at that moment, would've been the worst thing he could've done. It would've proven to him how deep his feelings were, something he already thought he knew. The brief confusion in Axel's face was enough to make him feel a little more content, a little satisfied.

Closing his eyes slowly, he allowed his senses to be overcome with thoughts of Axel, completely intoxicated by his scent, his presence. Then he smiled.

As if I cared.
As if he did.

"Remind me in the morning," he whispered softly.

And Axel did just that.

Because I love you.