A/N: LOL, so here's that condensed-version-of-a-wannabe-multichapter-story that I mentioned in an earlier chapter. By far, this is my favorite and (longest) Roxion oneshot out of all of the ones i've posted in this story, so enjoy it~!

P.S. there is some light smut at the end of this one. XD

.:Spooked:.

I sit in my bedroom and attempt to access what radians are and how they apply to circles and how to use them in the math homework I was given today. I chew on my pencil and tap my foot on the floor. Part of the side of my bed is digging into my back, but I ignore it as I continue to lean against the side of my mattress. I blow air out of my mouth in frustration.

I really hate math homework.

"Roxas!" my mother howls from one of the other rooms in the house. "The phone's ringing, and it's for you! Can't you hear it?"

No, I can't. I have my stereo turned up so that I can tune out everyone else. "I'm getting it!" I holler back, and I throw open my door and reach for the phone in the hallway. I click the 'talk' button, but it's too late; whoever was calling hung up already. I check the caller ID: Axel. He always bothers me. I swear, that guy calls me every single day. We're best friends and all, but sometimes I get a little annoyed with him, because Axel also hits on me every day. He has a thing for me, but I constantly remind him that we're only friends.

Purposely choosing not to call the redhead back, I shuffle back into my room.

But as I mindlessly close the door behind me, I look up and grow still. There's somebody I don't know lying on my bed.

He's transparent and dressed in solid white: white socks, white skinny jeans, a white studded belt, and a white long-sleeved shirt. He has silvery-blue hair that's almost purple, and his eyes are a steely cobalt. He's in a casual pose, his hands folded under his head and his legs crossed at the ankles. He seems completely out of place.

I blink in shock, and he glances casually at me. "Boo," he says sarcastically.

And then he vanishes into thin air, leaving only a chilly imprint on my bed where he had lain.

I shiver, and goosebumps dot my flesh. What the fuck just happened?

-X—x—X-

"Dude, Roxas… are you okay?" Axel asks as he waves a hand in front of my face. "You look like you've seen a ghost or something."

If only he knew how true that was.

Our other friend, Xion, joins us. She looks just as sleep-deprived as I do, with just as bruised bags under her eyes. "I couldn't sleep last night," she yawns, "I kept having nightmares."

"That's okay. Roxas seems to be in a similar boat. Aren't ya, Rox?" Axel teases, and he nudges me with his elbow.

Xion tilts her head, her short black hair falling into her eyes. She brushes it away with one hand as she asks: "Did you get some nightmares, too?"

I shake my head. "Worse than that," I reply lowly. "I… I saw a ghost."

Axel frowns, disbelieving, but Xion jumps at the remark. "A ghost! Ohmigod! That's so cool! Well… cool if it wasn't scary. That's pretty scary," she adds, but I can tell that she's just trying to conceal her excitement. She lives for the supernatural; she even dabbles in witchcraft; the simple, harmless, Wicken stuff, nothing major or Satanic. "What did it look like? Was it a black figure or white mist, or was it a full-bodied apparition?"

"Full-bodied," I reply, frowning slightly at the memory. It was so bizarre. "It was a guy about my age with flippy emo-hair that covered one of his eyes. He was dressed in white from head to toe."

"Wow," Xion says in awe, her expression dreamy. "He sounds sexy."

"…You're calling a ghost sexy?" Axel sputters with laughter. "Xion, my friend, I believe you just went up another rung on the Loopy Ladder, because that is not the statement of a sane person."

She giggles. "I don't care. I'm a sucker for ghosts, what can I say?" She yawns after saying this, some of her energy fading. "Oh shit. If I don't get a java fix soon, I think I'm going to crash. My teachers will be furious with me if I doze in class."

"Well, then before passing period ends, let's run across the street to Starbucks," I say to take my mind off of the whole ghost-thing. It works. Soon, Xion, Axel and I are cutting the first few minutes of our first-period class, and as the day progresses, I forget all about the random presence. Because maybe there hadn't been anyone there at all; maybe I imagined it because I was stressed out over my math homework.

At least, this is the excuse I give myself. Figments of the imagination are easier to deal with than fragments of someone who stayed behind after their death.

-X—x—X-

A week later, the ghost shows up again. I'm home alone minding my own business when he suddenly pops up on the stool next to me at the breakfast bar in my kitchen. I nearly choke on the ice cream I'm ingesting, a stolen treat I technically shouldn't be having.

"What the hell?" I shout, my face growing pale. "It's you again!"

"A simple, 'Hello' would have sufficed," the ghost replies. His voice sounds completely normal, unlike the stereotyped moans and wails and echoes that movie-ghosts are given. If he weren't see-through, I would have forgotten that he was a ghost. But he is, and I am currently freaking out.

"H-Hello?" I stutter, "How is that sufficient? I'm being haunted!"

"Not haunted," the ghost replies with a shrug. "Just visited."

"Great, so now I suppose you're going to tell me that three more spirits are also going to 'visit' me tonight?" I say, a little happy with my quip. I find it clever, even if I feel scared shitless and realize that I could be going insane for talking to what could be thin air – how do I know that other people can see him?

He smiles, and it creeps me out; something tells me that he shouldn't be smiling. "No, Mr. Scrooge, you will not be visited by any other spirits. There's only me. But I'm not a ghost, I assure you."

"Then what are you?" I say, puzzled beyond belief.

"I'm human," he answers as if it is the most obvious thing in the world.

"You mean you were human," I murmur, still spooked. "You can't be human and be transparent."

"Oh, is that all?" he says. "That's your only reason for mistaking me for a spook?"

I grit my teeth. "Well, yeah. I mean, what else can you be?"

He tilts his head downward slightly, as if caught between shrugging and nodding. "I see your point," he admits. He looks up at me again, his eyes piercing. "But I'm not a ghost."

"Then can you tell me what you are, besides human?"

He grins again, his eyes sparkling. "Wouldn't you like to know?" He glances behind him, as if seeing or hearing something that caught his attention, and he turns back at me, saying hastily, "I have to leave now. But next time, I'll tell you. My name, by the way, is Zexion, not 'you.'"

And then he disappears.

-X—x—X-

I'm brushing my teeth, watching my blank expression in the mirror as I scrub away the acquired filth from the day. Spitting out foam and rinsing my mouth, I run my brush under the faucet before opening the mirror to store my toothbrush in a cup in the cabinet. When I close the mirrored door, about to turn off the sink, I notice a face beside mine that wasn't there a second ago.

"Eep!" I squeak, and whirl around to face Zexion. He looks amused by my reaction. "Damn you!" I curse as I turn the knob on the sink and face him fully. "Why must you keep doing that? This is the third time I nearly leapt out of my skin because of you randomly showing up."

"I apologize," Zexion says lightly. He gestures to my room behind us (I have my own bathroom). "Shall we talk somewhere comfortable?"

I shrug and eye him warily. "Sure, whatever."

He sits on my bed and pats the space beside him, but I opt to sit backwards in my desk chair, my arms resting on the top of the spine support piece. Zexion sighs, but doesn't hesitate to launch into his explanation.

"I'm not a ghost," he reminds me, "I'm just a human with a special ability. You know that phrase, 'have an out-of-body experience'? Well, I can have one of those whenever I like, so long as I close my eyes and focus on somewhere I want to be instead of where I am. I learned how to do it when I was growing up in an orphanage." He places his hand to his chin in thought. Today he's wearing fingerless black gloves, a plum long-sleeved shirt, and black skinny jeans being held onto his slim hips with a light grey studded belt. I like this outfit better than the first, because the white washed him out and made him appear very, very ghostly indeed. "I call it, 'releasing my soul,' because it feels like that: my soul disconnecting and leaving the prison that is my physical body."

I stare at him for a moment. If he had been someone I met in school or something, I would have thought he was crazy for saying this. He's describing some sort of… astral projection or something. I didn't think things like that were possible, but now I do. I'm seeing it in the flesh, with my own eyes, so it must be real.

…That, or I'm simply hallucinating. But I doubt it.

"So, then… how did you get here, in my house? Do you know where I live or something?" I pose, because this question has been bothering me since he first showed up. How did he find me, exactly? My desire to know has become somewhat of a necessity.

Zexion makes a face. "I can… sense where other people are. When I'm like this, I can go to a place from memory, or I can seek out a place based on someone I know who is located there. I figured this out when one of my friends from the orphanage moved away one year, and I wanted to see them again," he explains softly.

I digest this new piece of information. Then I dissect it. "Wait a second… so that means… you know me? But I don't know you, I only met you recently –"

Zexion looks embarrassed. He glances away and runs his hand through his hair, and for a moment, I get the full effect of seeing both his eyes at once, and I realize that he's a very attractive person. I guess Xion was right, even if she's never seen him.

"You might not know me, but I know you. We've met, but it wasn't something particularly memorable for you, I'm sure. But it was for me." He suddenly stiffens, and before I can ask a question, he says, "Dammit. Someone is touching my body to wake me up, since they think I've fallen asleep. We'll have to continue this later; I know you want an explanation from me. Goodbye for now, Roxas."

And then he's gone again, and this time I know for sure at least two things: one, that I'm going to have to shuffle through every memory I can to see how I know him, and two, that he must be telling the truth; I never told him my name, and yet he knew it.

I suppose I forgot to mention it, but there is also one other thing that I know for sure: I can't wait to see Zexion again, because there is so much more about him that I want to find out. I want to get to know him better.

-X—x—X-

I relay to Xion the details of Zexion's visits, and explain to her what he explained to me. Unlike Axel, she is actually interested and enjoys hearing my tale.

"Ohmigod, that is just too awesome! I was researching things like this in some of my occult books, and it makes sense: sometimes people who have traumatic lives or pasts – he was an orphan, you say? – can develop special abilities because a door in their mind opened up. Is he intelligent? If he is, then it could be a Matilda case where he is using so much of his brain that he can be like her in the sense that she can move objects with her mind and he can cross distances with his." Xion says, her tone bubbly as she rants about this topic. Apparently I hit a nerve, because she has never been this exited about anything before.

I smile and nod. "That makes sense to me. But I want to find out more about him. Like: how he became an orphan, how old he is – he's about as tall as me, but he looks a little older than me – and if anybody ever adopted him. Is he happy in his life? And how come he knows me? I really want to see him again to find these things out."

Xion tacks some hair behind one ear and giggles breathlessly. "So… you're interested in him, huh?" she teases. She knows that I'm gay, which is another reason why Axel tries so hard to date me. She loves watching Axel and I flirt together when the three of us go out to movie or something; she says that it's adorable. She doesn't mind it at all, even though she originally only became our friend because she had a crush on me. But when I let her down, she took it in stride and decided that it was best anyway because she'd rather have a friend than a boyfriend. Xion is very understanding, and I like that about her.

I blush and pull a face. "What? No! How can I? I barely know him!"

"You don't need to know somebody that much in order to be interested in him or her," she reminds me. And I sigh, because she's right; after all, she's speaking from experience, and I've seen a similar thing occur with other people.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. But I don't think it's a romantic interest, so don't get your hopes up," I say playfully.

"Not a romantic interest… yet," she emphasizes, and I smack her lightly on the arm.

"Shut up, Xion!"

-X—x—X-

One night, I have a dream about Zexion.

It's inbetween two other dreams, one being a nightmare featuring a spooky monster chasing me down an alleyway at night, and the other being a peaceful dream about me as a blond cat catching fish in a stream. Both are strange like all dreams are, but the one with Zexion in the middle of these two dreams is the weirdest, because it does like this:

After the nightmare, I startle awake, my eyes flying open and my breathing nearly ceasing. I turn my head to the right, and see a figure in my bed with me. The figure sees that I'm awake and squeaks in surprise before fading into nothing. The figure had been Zexion's, and he had been lying on his side, watching me with loving eyes before he realized that I was watching him back.

It's a really weird dream, and not just because Zexion was in it or because it was a dream that involved waking up; it's weird because I know deep down that it wasn't a dream at all.

-X—x—X-

It's three weeks until I see Zexion again, his last visit (I refuse to think he was there that night I was dreaming so much) being the one in which he promised to explain himself the next time he came.

For a while, I was disappointed, but after a bit I figured that he must be busy and unable to get away. But then I start to get depressed, and then, like a beacon of light in a storm, Zexion pops up out of nowhere while I'm taking a shower.

One second I'm rinsing the shampoo out of my hair, the next I'm seeing Zexion's wide-eyed, shocked/embarrassed face, and the next I'm alone in the shower again. So much for Zexion's abilities; evidently, he doesn't know what's happening where I am, only that I'm somewhere doing something. Evidently, he has no control over where he ends up, only that I'm going to be in the same vicinity.

When I'm out of the shower and dressed, my hair wet and a sickening wash of embarrassment from exposure still running through me, Zexion is waiting on my bed. He's waiting to talk some more, but now he's probably just trying not to be awkward. He posture says that much: his legs are together, his hands are squashed between his thighs in an ashamed pose, and his head is bowed slightly.

Somehow, I find this a little endearing. Shaking my head at myself, I say, "So, um… you said that we were going to finish our conversation when you next showed up?"

His head jerks upwards to look at me, and even though he is transparent, he looks solidly mortified. "Uh, yes. I was going to. And I apologize for –"

I wave it away immediately. "Don't worry about it, really. I mean, we have the same parts, right? So who cares? It's like showering after practice for an after-school sport. No big deal, right?"

"Perhaps not for you," Zexion murmurs almost inaudibly. "But… I'm, er, well… homosexual." He looks sheepish. "I'm sorry. You probably think I'm some creepy, gay stalker. I should go –"

I don't like that idea. I reach out towards him, as if to hold him back, and take a step forward. "No, wait!" I say, and he looks at me oddly. "Don't… leave. I mean, heh, you still have so much to tell me, right? So please, don't stress over it."

"You're not disgusted with me?" he says, his tone genuinely surprised, but only vaguely so. He still has difficulty showing emotion around me, it seems.

I laugh, partially out of nerves and partially because he seems so secretly sensitive, like me. I don't show it as much, and it seems he doesn't usually, either, because they expression he has in this very moment looks at though it feels foreign to him to be so open with somebody. It makes me wonder what makes me so special.

I inform him of a fact he's unaware of. "If I were disgusted with you, Zexion, I'd have to be disgusted with myself as well."

Realization dawns on him, and he looks relieved for a brief moment before his expression calms into nonchalance again. "You're also homosexual," he states. It isn't a question, just a clarification of my innuendo.

I grin. "Yep. So it's no big deal. Although now you owe me, because it's unfair that you saw me naked."

He flushes a rich pink and forces an odd, uncomfortable chuckle. "Yes. Well. Did you want me to explain myself further, or are we going to continue to talk about sexuality? Because, technically, I didn't come here for the latter."

I laugh, too. "Yeah, you're right. Sorry. Go ahead and tell me what it is you want to tell me, and then I'll see if I have any questions. Because my head has been buzzing with questions for a few weeks now."

"I'm sorry about that, too," he mutters under his breath as I come to sit next to him on the edge of my bed. "I had so much work to do, since winter finals at my college were this week. They're over now, but in the weeks preceding the tests I was doing last-minute papers and study sessions almost every time I had free time, and then I'd fall asleep. My part-time job got in the way a little bit as well."

I nod. "Oh, okay. I forgive you for leaving me hanging, then," I joke. I look him in the eye. There is a small moment of silence, and I search his eyes for answers. "Tell me, Zexion: when did we meet?"

He doesn't look at me. He looks at his hands as he enlightens me. "It was second semester of last year. You were a junior, so naturally you go around visiting colleges to see what catches your interest and suits your future plans. You ended up coming to my college in a group of about one hundred-or-so people. I was wandering the campus out of boredom, occasionally eyeing your group crossly because I dislike freshman and freshman-to-be. But then I saw you. It was easy to single you out, because you were someone who was unlike the rest: you had your mask of indifference on. I was curious about you. Why were you so unexcited, unlike your peers, whom were hemming and hawing over the college? However, things soon changed. While on the campus library portion of the tour, you got a phone call…"

I remember now. I remember all too vividly that trip, but I still can't see Zexion in it. I know, though, what he's about to say. Tears prickle at the back of my eyes, and I blink to restrain them. I wait for him to continue.

"…You fell away from the group, and though I couldn't hear what you were saying, I knew that it was not good news. It began like any other call – you looked happy, eager. But then your face fell while you talked, and then you became angry, and I knew that you must have been getting into a heated argument with whoever was on the phone.

"You went off on your own, totally alone. I tagged behind in the shadows, part of me empathetic and tempted to console you, a complete stranger, and the other part of me hanging back because of the fact that I didn't know you and had no right to bud into your affairs. But I had to do something when I saw you slipping into one of the bathrooms, because I knew what you were going to do. And I wasn't wrong."

Zexion finally turns his gaze to me, and I can feel the beginnings of familiarity budding up in my chest. I say breathlessly, "I was crying."

He nods. "Yes. I could hear you sobbing softly as soon as I entered the bathroom. You weren't even in one of the stalls – you were just sitting there on the dirty tile floor, your knees bunched up to your chest, your face in your hands. I hesitated, but I finally came over to you and touched you on the shoulder. You didn't look at me; you immediately told me to fuck off, and you called me Axel. When I told you that I wasn't him, you finally looked, but the expression of 'fuck off' didn't leave your face. You yelled at me, saying something I couldn't quite catch, but when I asked you what your name was and why you were crying, you shut up. You looked so pained that it hurt me to look at you. You said quietly, 'I'm Roxas. But it's nothing, alright? I just got dumped, that's all.' And you pushed past me and left the bathroom, your eyes still wet and red and your face still scrunched in fury and pain.

"I wanted to follow you, grab you and turn you around, forcing you to elaborate and perhaps release some of your pent-up emotions, but I knew that I shouldn't because we were strangers. You had every right to push me away."

He finishes with a rigid expression on his face, his eyes hollow. I think extremely hard, and it takes me a moment, but I finally match up the memory of someone in the bathroom with me with Zexion's voice and face. So he had been there; and I had pushed him away. I feel guilty about it all of a sudden, even if he's right about us being strangers and my refusal of his consolation.

Zexion's gaze connects with mine and he asks, "Did you love the person who dumped you?"

"Yeah… " I sigh pathetically. I rub the back of my neck tautly. There is another wave of that stinging sensation behind my eyes, but I don't want to cry in front of Zexion again. I blink them away for a second time. "He was my everything, at the time. He and I had been friends almost our entire lives, and in freshman year, I couldn't take it anymore; I wanted to be closer to him. At that point, I had liked him for over a year, and I could sense that he wouldn't mind trying to date me for a while since he didn't seem interested in girls very much. He liked this girl Kairi for a while, but it faded fast. So when it was gone, I stepped in. I told him that I liked him as more than a friend and wondered if he felt the same. He was a little reluctant, but he agreed. So we went out. But then, over the summer between our sophomore and junior years, he moved away to some island far away from here.

"We were doing a long-distance relationship the best we could, but I think I knew all along that he would end up cheating on me. I was just too in love with him to see it. He called me that day, and I playfully asked him how much he missed me. I didn't expect to get an honest answer."

I pause, because suddenly my throat is feeling extremely constricted and sore, like the raw, red feeling I get when I'm sick. Zexion lays his hand on my forearm, something I see more than I can feel, but I can still feel the slight, airy pressure. My arm is warmer where he touches me, and I lean an inch or two to my left towards him.

"He told me… how guilty he felt about cheating on me. He told me how… how he realized he never really li… liked me the way I l-liked him. He said that it was more of a… an overly-dependent friendship that he c-confused with romantic feelings. So he… he ended up dating and falling for this girl Naminé. A girl. So the thing with me was only ever… a way of keeping me happy, since he l-loves keeping people happy." I didn't cry, not yet, but my voice was thick and wavering as if I were. I had to pause a few times to hold back a hiccup or a sniffle from escaping.

"What was his name?" Zexion whispers calmly, his head tilting to look at my face, since my hair is covering most of it from the way I'm bowing.

"What does it matter that his name is?" I hiss, frustrated not at Zexion but at the entire situation. It still aches, despite being months and months ago. I'm a senior now, for Christ's sake. It shouldn't bother me this much!

"It matters because throughout your entire story, you purposely left out his name," the projection of Zexion says firmly.

I bite my bottom lip and then smooth it over with my tongue. "Sora," I say hoarsely, "His name was Sora."

He was the closest thing I had to a soul mate. Just like how my older cousin Ventus is the closest thing I have to a sibling. And how my step-dad is the closest thing I have to a real dad, since my biological father left my mom and me.

"Sora didn't know what he was leaving behind," Zexion says, and I can hear something tender in the backdrop of his tone. It makes my insides squirm pleasantly.

"Zexion –" I begin, most likely about to make a fool of myself, when Zexion abruptly stands.

"I hate it when this happens," he says. He looks at me, and there is something about the way he does so, and I don't know whether it's in his eyes, or from the shape of his lips, or even if it's by his stance, but it makes me think of the word 'doleful'. "I have to go again."

And I smile at him just before he leaves, because I want him to know that I understand.

Except seconds after he vanishes, the tears I held back come pouring down my cheeks as steady as rainfall.

My room has never felt so empty and lonely.

-X—x—X-

Zexion won't get out of my head: his soulful voice, his unusually colored hair, his dark eyes, his compassion towards me, his lean physique… every last bit of him.

I feel nauseous, and I keep pushing Axel away because I don't ant him to touch me or flirt with me any longer. He gets pissy and starts avoiding me, but I don't care.

And that's when Xion calls me out on it. But as soon as she says it, I find myself wincing as if she'd struck me.

"You're lovesick," she says softly, kindly. She's beyond the teasing like before. She knows that it's serious this time. She gives me a half-hug, her arm wrapping around my shoulder. My wince fades. She questions, "Do you want to talk about it?"

I shake my head. "No. I feel stupid enough already."

She laughs a little. "Yeah, I would too." She releases me and clasps her hands together in front of her. Stretching them and cracking her knuckles in the process, she stands up. "Know what will cheer you up? Your old love: Sea-Salt ice cream."

I send her a lopsided smile. "That sounds perfect. Thanks, Xion."

"That's what I'm here for," she replies with a wink. "I'm here to help you, Roxas. It's what friends do."

-X—x—X-

I putz around the house, looking for something to do. My mother senses my anxiety and starts suggesting things at random while she folds clothes.

"Why don't you go play a video game?"

"Nah," I reply lazily, "I don't feel like being stationary."

"Make something to eat?"

"Nah, I don't want to get fat."

"How about bake for fun?" she says with a slightly tired sigh.

"What am I, a girl? I might be gay, but I'm not that flaming, thank you very much." I snort.

My mother throws a pair of my own underwear at my head. It flops onto my face and some of the fuzz gets in my mouth. Spitting, I yell a curt 'Hey!', and before I can say something like, 'What was that for?' my mother says to me: "Then go out and get a job or a boyfriend, because I'm not your source of entertainment."

"I think I'll just go for a walk," I mutter lamely. "It's nice outside."

Actually, it's dim and cloudy and threatening to rain, but it's at least warm. Warm enough that I don't need a jacket, anyhow.

My mother shrugs. "Alright, if you say so," she murmurs. She brushes back her brown hair, brings its low ponytail to the side, and splits it in two. I watch her do a twist and then tie it off with the pink scrunchie on her wrist. Her green eyes smile at me. "Just don't forget your cell. I want to be able to reach you, or come pick you up if it starts raining and you're too far away to walk home. I'd hate it if my poor baby got a cold."

"Okay," I answer, and I'm already getting my shoes on. "Thanks, Mom." I always figure out what to do – even if it's as silly and meaningless as this – when I talk to her.

"I'll see you later, Roxy." And then she goes back to her folding.

I love my mother; she can be tough when she wants to be, and she has those days when she's easily irritated (usually once a month for about a week, I noticed), but she's a great mom. And Zack, my step-dad, is a good match for her after my real dad, Cloud, left her for some woman at his job named Tifa. I don't hate him for it, but it still sucks, because my mother never did anything wrong. But who knows, maybe it was for the best.

Thinking about this as I head out the door, I fail to truly grasp the weather situation before it's too late. I should have gone back inside and skipped out on my walk, because once I'm a good ten blocks away from home and near a child's play park, the storm hits.

Thunder roars and lightning crashes, so loud and rapid and ear-splitting and blinding that I nearly fall over and wet my pants. I jump at each new bout, and then the rain starts whipping down at the ground and I as if we were the same essence, something that didn't matter to the sky above. I run and duck for cover under the little fort-type structure in the center of the park and bring the hood of my sweatshirt over my head. I fumble with slippery, cold hands to turn on my cell and click the speed dial for home. My lovely mother picks up on the first ring.

"I knew it'd be you. Where are you, dear?" she says, but the wind is picking up, so I only catch every other syllable.

"I'm at Mickey Park about ten blocks away," I half-yell into the receiver over the rain rushing in my ears as it bounces off of the plastic roof overhead.

"Okay, I'm coming to get you," she says, and I jump as thunder sounds again, furious and booming. I snap my ancient cell phone shut and dig my hands into my pockets while I wait for her.

Out of nowhere, I hear a voice behind me remark, "Well, this royally sucks."

I turn and find Zexion staring up at the sky, drops of rain falling straight through him as he stands just outside of the protection of the play set. He's dressed in the same blues and greys as the sky, and today he's wearing black eyeliner that matches his black fingernails. His hand is at his mouth again, as if he's contemplating whether or not to stay or to go.

I desperately want him to stay.

"Zexion," I say half out of surprise – he did startle me a moment ago – and half out of fondness. I'm happy to see him.

He looks at me and notes sarcastically, "Well, don't you look like you're ready for senior prom, all dressed up in holey jeans and soaked to the bone."

I laugh. I know he's trying to make light of the situation for my benefit. "Yeah, well. I like looking my best," is all I can think of to say.

"Aren't you going to look for a better mode of shelter?" he asks as he walks – I didn't know that souls could walk – towards me and stands next to me.

"What I'm waiting for is a mode of transportation," I explain. "My mom is coming to pick me up since I foolishly went out for a walk and didn't bother to check the weather beforehand."

Zexion smirks. "Stupid boy."

"I know I am," I sigh. My demeanor shifts. "But I'm glad that you're here to keep me company."

"What are friends for?" Zexion says, and it makes me think of two things at once: Xion, and the fact that Zexion is correct. Oddly enough, the two of us has become friends. But I don't want to be friends. I think Xion is correct, too; I think I am lovesick. And all because of him, because he's interesting and unique and he was there for me when I needed him.

I nod at his remark, and then pose a request. "To waste time, can you tell me a little bit about your years at the orphanage? Like, how you got there, if you ever got adopted, and whether or not it was a bad experience for you."

Zexion's face turns grim. "I was sent to the orphanage when I was six. My parents were killed. They were being mugged, and the mugging went too far; the mugger stabbed them both to wound them and take their belongings, but they ended up bleeding to death because they were stabbed in the gut, and no one found them in time." I've never seen his face so deadpan and scared. "It wasn't as good as my previous lie, but the orphanage wasn't a bad way to live, either. I made some friends, and when I was eleven, a science professor at the college I'm going to now adopted me. His name is Ansem, and he's a very intelligent man. He taught me everything I know, and buys books for me whenever I want because he makes a lot of money from his job and his own books. He writes things about the human heart; metaphors, illnesses; you name it, he's researched and written about it. He's even helped design a few machines that fix weak or damages hearts."

His entire tone shifted, and his face brightened a little when he started talking about his adopted father. He must really admire him. I smile. "Well, that's good. I'm glad that things worked out later on, even if they started off gruesome."

He nods. "I agree." His eyes pan over to a car that's pulling up into a parking space. "I'll be back in about twenty minutes, when you're alone again," he informs me, and then he's gone just as my mother is hopping out of the car and walking over to me with an umbrella.

"That's strange," she observes, "I thought I saw another boy with you when I initially parked the car. Hmm, it must have been my imagination," she shrugs. She holds the blue umbrella out towards me. "Quickly now, Love; can't let you catch a cold! Or a flu; that would be awful."

I chuckle. "It would be." And I follow her to the car, and during the drive home we chat idly about overplayed songs on the radio, and all I can think about is something I really want to ask of Zexion when I see him. I just hope that he'll comply.

-X—x—X-

I pace my room, the wind really having at it against the side of my house while the storm rages war against the world outside. It's a really nasty one; I wouldn't be surprised if the power failed, causing everything run by electricity to die in my home.

To amuse myself before Zexion shows up, I put 'Hurricane' by 30 Seconds to Mars on my iPod. I gaze out my window, allowing the lyrics and beat of the rock music to fit with the scenery like a movie.

Before the song ends and the next on my playlist begins, the person I'm waiting for shows himself. He appears directly beside me, and of course I'm spooked even if I had been expecting him. "Hot damn!" I laugh, "You've got to stop doing that."

"There's no other way to do it," Zexion replies honestly.

I look down at my socks. "Actually… I was, um, kind of thinking about that. Maybe there is another way."

"There is?" Zexion says, his head tilting adorably to his right.

I nod and nibble on my lips. I can feel heat rising to my cheeks. "Yeah… I was thinking that, maybe, you'd like to meet up in person this weekend? Say, on Saturday at noon? We can meet at the entrance to your school, and then go out for coffee or something –" I say in a rush.

My gifted friend blushes slightly. "Roxas, are you asking me out on a date?" he says demurely.

I smirk. "And what if I am?"

His embarrassment melts into that of amusement. "Then I would have to say yes, naturally."

I barely contain my excitement. "R-really?" I say, my face lighting up from the inside out.

Zexion gives me one of his rare, true smiles. "Why would I say no? I'm the one who stalked you."

I chuckle and run a hand through my blond spikes. "I can't deny this, for it is true," I say, quoting something (but for the life of me I can't remember what).

Before I know it, an hour passes by. We spend it chatting about our likes and dislikes, as well as my own parental history to make us even. Then, Zexion yawns – or, at least, tells me that his body is yawning where it is – and says that he's going to fall asleep, so he might as well leave.

"So then, Saturday at noon," Zexion repeats.

I grin and nod to confirm. "Yep. And don't stand me up, or I'll hunt you down."

His eyes smile, even if his mouth doesn't. "I will do my best to remember."

"That shouldn't be any trouble," I say playfully, "Because I'm sure both of us won't be able to stop thinking about it."

Zexion chuckles lightly. "I can't deny this, for it is true." And we both fall into another bout of laughter before saying goodbye.

I feel like a million bucks.

-X—x—X-

I feel like shit.

I caught a stupid head cold from my stupid walk out in the stupid rain. And it's Saturday, stupid, bloody Saturday, the same day that I'm supposed to go meet Zexion, and I feel like a total dick because if I blow him off because of my sickness, then I'll look even more stupid than I feel since I'm the one who set up this stupid date in the first place!

Arrgh! I want to slap a bitch, I'm so angry.

But instead of harming a bitchy woman or some random female dog, I get dressed in my sexy-date-outfit and head out the door with a miniature pack of Kleenex and a shitload of cold medicine in my system.

I can't seem to get into my car and on the road fast enough. I go over the recommended 'within five' of the speed limit more than once, and when I finally reach my destination, I almost forget to take my keys out of the ignition before I'm racing out of the car and up the front steps to the main doors of the college.

I wait a mere seven minutes (I was counting; I'm pathetic, I know) until Zexion arrives.

He shows up with a mass of other students that come bursting out of the front doors. I nearly topple over from all of them pushing and shoving me, reminding me of middle-schoolers on the first day of summer vacation. I fall backwards, and I would have hit my head had it not been for a thin, strong body behind my own to support me. "Watch out," the person says, "College students are far worse than high school students when it comes to getting out of class."

I immediately know it's Zexion, and I turn around – unable to help myself – and embrace him. "I'll keep that in mind when I enter this college come fall," I grin into his ear. It feels so indescribably good to be able to physically touch him after meeting upon meeting over the past few months with him being no more solid than a wisp of smoke.

Zexion pulls away from my hug, but proceeds to slide his hand down my arm until his fingers become intertwined with my own. He knows that I don't mind. "Where would you like to go?" he asks me. "This was your idea, after all."

I'm so happy that I don't even notice some of the stink-eye type stares being geared towards the two of us. Evidently this college has some homophobics lurking around. Fucking great. I wanted to go here because of Zexion, but I really despise fag-haters. Shaking my head, I guide my thoughts back to the question I was asked. "I don't really care, but I do happen to have a hankering for coffee. So maybe we go on a java run, and then to a movie? There's this new horror flick out, and I want to see it."

"I love horror movies," Zexion says. "And coffee does sound appealing. Let's go."

And so we do. And I've never had more fun with someone in my life. Not even when I was with Sora was I this enthused during a date. I don't know if Zexion's special ability has anything to do with it, but I would like to think that it's the chemistry, and our similarities that evenly match our attracting dissimilarities. Or something like that.

Whatever it is, it's amazing.

-X—x—X-

With a growl, I hurl down my math book and pencil. I can't believe we're still trying to learn stuff in the second before last week of school; I mean, who does that? Not the middle school kids. Not the elementary school kids. Not even college kids! So why do we have to?

But at least this is my last year. Come next week, I'm graduating, so who cares about radians and pi and the area and length of sectors of a circle? Not me.

Sighing, I pick up my book and pencil again and dag my calculator out of my messy backpack. Good thing it's the end of the year; I desperately need to clean this baby out. Or, better yet, toss it into the trash and then buy a new one for college; after all, I've used this for all four years of high school. It's maxed out.

Out of the blue, I hear a shuffling noise. I nearly jump out of skin, because the sound is extremely nearby.

"Boo," a male figure says sarcastically as he climbs in through my open window.

"Ahh!" I shriek in response, because I had been minding my own business, doing some pesky math homework, when he decided to drop in. Literally. I pick up a pillow from my bed and chuck it at the intruder. "Fuckin' a', Zexion! How many times have I told you to call or warn me in some way before you stop by?"

"I'm sorry, did I spook you again?" he teases as he comes over to me and gives me a kiss on the cheek. He isn't smiling, but his eyes say everything: he's smirking on the inside.

I turn the shade of a nice, ripe strawberry. "Yes, you spooked me, asshole," I say with conviction. But I can't resist him. My face breaks out into a wide grin. I yank him down to my height (I'm sitting on the floor, much like how I started when I first saw his astral projection-self) and force him to land in my pretzeled lap.

Zexion sits with his legs on either side of me, his arms wound around my neck. Despite being older than me, he's definitely not the leader of our relationship. I lean forward and press my lips to his throat; it's my favorite place on him. And, I found out a while back, if I lick or kiss or even breathe on the back of his neck, Zexion shudders and moans, because he's sensitive there. Hence, his neck is my favorite place.

"Roxas," he pants as I start suckling at his neck, "Don't you… have homework to do…? And… aren't your… parents home?"

I let my hands wander down to his waist, my thumbs slipping under the denim rim of his jeans. "My homework isn't due until the day after tomorrow, so it can wait. And no, my parents aren't home," I say in a husky voice as I bring him closer. "Besides, it's been a week since we've last been together in person. You know how much that torments me."

Having been dating me for five months now, he most definitely knows. So he shuts up and permits me to take control. I assault his neck, attacking it with nips and licks and kisses where I see fit. His head rolls back to give me full access. I take advantage of this and distract him while my fingers curve around his hips and undo the button on his jeans. He gasps, but doesn't say anything. I take this lack of verbal protest as a signal for permission to continue.

My homework – book, papers, pencil, calculator and all – gets shoved to the side, kicked away by my feet. I bring Zexion's shirt up over his head and latch his legs around me as I lift him into the air and plop him down onto my bed. He eagerly tugs my shirt off, and I unzip his fly. He unfastens my pants while I go to work with my mouth on his chest. He arches up into me, hungry for contact, and I realize that being physically apart from me must drive him mad, too.

We shrug off our jeans and press closer together, and the room's temperature soars up a few notches on my internal thermometer. My other internal device, my internal clock, shuts off. I lose track of time as I grind up against Zexion, our mouths clashing scrumptiously every now and then. He grunts when the friction becomes too much, and he thrashes his head from side to side. He doesn't want to say it, but I know what he wants.

I reach down between us and slide off his briefs. Then, without hesitation, I shed my own boxers and position myself so that he can feel me, naked and raw and unafraid.

Zexion's lips tremble, an unspoken whimper. I peer down at his face, which is flushed and lustful, his eyes a darker color than normal. Our eyes connect, and before I have time to react, my boyfriend is bringing his hand down my back and around to my front, his fingers gripping both of our erections at once.

I grit my teeth and bite back a loud moan; holy fuck, why does that feel so much better than it does when I touch myself?

We've never gone this far before; in the past, we've made out and groped around a bit, and once rubbed against one another until we accidentally came in our pants, but this is on a whole other level.

Zexion starts pumping both of us, and I can't stop myself from having one hand assist him while my hips start rocking back and forth into the movements. His do the same. We keep up a spontaneous pace for a while before falling into a rhythm as our hands fall away and the length-to-length contact takes over our senses.

Right as I'm on the brink, Zexion lurches forward and grips me tight enough to break the skin on my back with his nails. He crumbles against me, his inner, more emotional self being exposed as he reaches oblivion before me. I hug him to my body, and with one final jerk, I follow soon after. We lay there on my messy, unclean bed for a moment and breath heavily.

Once our breathing returns to normal, I roll off of Zexion and lay on my side facing him. I reach over and wipe some of the sweat from his brow and then bend over to kiss his nose. "I love you," I confess in a gentle whisper.

Zexion rolls onto his side and buries his face in my chest. I wrap an arm around him. "I've loved you for as long as I've known you," he mumbles into my skin. "I can't believe hat I get to have you. My life has been…" he drifts off. Then, without a description since I already know, he finishes, "And then I experimented, trying to see if I could visit you. When I discovered that I could, I couldn't stop. And I'll never stop, because I don't want to." He curls against me, seeming suddenly fragile in my arms. Is he crying? I can't tell, but I want to comfort him anyhow.

"I don't want you to stop visiting me, either," I smile as I kiss the top of his head and inhale the scent of his hair: sweet like shampoo, sweaty like sex, and entirely male and Zexion-esque. I love it.

"…Roxas…"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for accepting me. I'm weird because of my abilities and slightly anti-social issues, but when I called out to you, you heard me. So thank you."

I know that Zexion doesn't act the same way around other people that he does when he's around me, and I'm in a similar predicament. I suppose it's like we have our secret, inner selves that we only share with each other. And I know, without a doubt, that this is what it's like to have a soul mate.

"You're welcome. Although I should be thanking you; after all, if you hadn't scared the shit out of me that one day, we would have never gotten this close. So I'm thankful that you dared to use your ability, as trippy as it is."

Zexion chuckles airily into my chest, and I feel his eyelashes against my collarbone as he closes his eyelids sleepily. "I'm also glad that I dared," he yawns, and pretty soon, he's asleep.

And this ends up being the first of many, many times that Zexion and I sleep together, in both senses of the word.