"You're kidding," said Roxas. "You're absolutely kidding."

"I'm, uh," said Hayner, and laughed and coughed a little. "I don't think so."

"What?"

"Not kidding."

Roxas let out this whoosh of laughter like a valve had loosened in his throat. "Oh. I um, it's just - I just wasn't expecting to see you here."

"Yeah, me either," Hayner said. He stared at Roxas's eyes like perfect glass marbles. "Cities are...small, I guess."

"Really concentrated," Roxas said. "No kidding, I mean, I think people just stay more or less in their own little radii of territory - so there's overlap, sometimes. Have you um, have you been here long?" Radii. Jesus, he said radii.

"No. I just came to - " He didn't want to say trade. "Get some things."

"Oh." He drummed this thumb and forefinger on the table. "So you're busy?"

"Not really. Just waiting for them to get the stuff together so I can leave again," Hayner said.

He turned in his chair, and Roxas smiled, smiled, smiled at him. He kept his lips pressed together. "You're here for while?"

"At least until tomorrow, yeah," Hayner said. "I'm living a way's out."

"How far izzat?" he asked.

Hayner looked at him hard. His face had stayed boyish, a little round with big eyes and soft pink lips that never got dry, that never cracked because it was so cold at night. He had been stored in a carefully sealed chamber, preserved for prosperity in all his glory. Plump-faced Roxas. Back from the ether.

"It's a way's," Hayner said again. Rich boy didn't need to know.

"Oh. Oh, cool," Roxas nodded like he hadn't just been brushed off, and put his small - not bony - hand on Hayner's shoulder. "Well, if you're here for one more night, wanna come stay at mine? We've got the room. I'd love to catch up."

Well look at that. Roxas was a regular old fucking socialite, wasn't he? I'd love to catch up. Like your dad at a dinner party. Christ.

"I dunno," he said, which meant no as strongly as it could without saying it outright. "I already have a room rented."

"So let it go empty for a night," he said. He squeezed Hayner's shoulder. "Come on. I'm dying to catch up."

That would be a real laugh riot, catching up. What've you been doing? Oh, nothing much, watched some TV, finished a trashy novel the other day, my azaleas are coming in nicely. You? Oh, well. Seifer and I haven't been shot at in months. So I can't complain.

That would go down really well.

But he looked at Roxas's big broad face, the way he smiled like somebody who honestly still thought you could be friends no matter where you came from or what your background was, and it broke his heart a little. Not out of pity or anything.
Anger broke his heart.
"Well, yeah," he shrugged. "Okay. Just for tonight. You sure your - " - don't say handler, Hayner, that was rude - "- roommate won't mind?"

"Axel?" Roxas laughed. "Of course not. He loves people. Especially decent honest ones." Hayner shuddered to think what kind of people he usually saw if Hayner counted as decent and honest. "He'll love you. You've really...seen the real world, you know?"

He smiled. Roxas's boyfriend, he was willing to bet, didn't want to talk to somebody who'd seen the real world. He wanted somebody he could use to alleviate rich man's guilt or he wanted somebody to assure him how worldly he was. Hayner figured that was a guy worth disappointing.

"I guess I could," he said. "One night, I mean."

Seifer had always been the stronger one. He could go on his own for a day.

It was so creepy being in a building that worked, he realized. Where the elevator shafts had elevators in them instead of being full of trash and hungry dogs. The tiles on the floor were flat, and all in order, and clean. When Roxas led him across the lobby, Hayner couldn't stop thinking about how much effort it took to keep something working like this. How easy it was to let it fall apart. They must have had people who came through and cleaned the floors, whose whole entire jobs were to keep the things how they already were. It just seemed incredibly creepy to him.

"Sorry," Roxas said, "It's not...the most glamorous thing in the world, I guess. I mean I know when I first came here I was expecting like...marble floors and gold filigree and shit. It's just a nice apartment complex, really."

How long ago had Roxas been - had Roxas left? Five years, six years, something stupid like that. Because Hayner was just fucking impressed by the clean floors and the working elevator. He didn't even know what filigree meant, let alone expected it to be in the building.

"It's very nice," he said, because he was broken.

"Yeah, I guess," Roxas said. "Um. Top floor." He motioned toward the elevator.

Hayner bit back an Are you sure that's safe? and just nodded, following him into the little chokebrown box and holding his breath the whole way up.

"So..." Roxas hummed, fumbling for his keys. "Ah...shit." He held his keyring up to the light and flipped past a few until he got the right one, and the ring jangled with it.

"So how are you, really?" he asked, jamming the key into the lock.

"I'm all right," Hayner lied. "I'm doing fine."

"Really?" he said. The door banged the wall lightly when he opened it, but he caught it and ushered Hayner inside. "You're here on your own, right?"

"Kind of. More or less, I mean," he said, more because he didn't feel like explaining about Seifer than anything else.

"Oh." He set the keys down on a nice wooden table and toed his shoes off onto a mat. He kept them to the right side of the mat, leaving enough room for another pair. "Is Olette back home or something? She didn't come with you?" he said, unzipping his jacket and hanging it up on a hook.

Hayner's boots were covered in dry red dust. His shirt was too large for his bony shoulders; his coat was a little small, and made it hard to wear the oversized shirt underneath it. His pants were sturdy army pants. Vexen had hemmed them and taken in the waist so they would fit Hayner, who was a little short, and a little skinny. His eyes met Roxas's with six extra years of weight and shit and it's not fair with no end in sight, and he saw a kind of blue that was miles away from what was in Seifer's eyes. Roxas's eyes were distant. They were the blue of dreams achieved by somebody else.

"What? Hayner...?"

"Rox, I - I thought you knew. I mean I assumed..." It was already on Roxas's face, the realization, but he started anyways: "Olette..."

Roxas's face got dark and he sat down, right where he was. He sat down right on the carpet in the hall leading to his big old penthouse apartment and put his hands on his shaking knees. "...oh."

And then he said something stupid, which Hayner had said, too: "Are you sure?"

Hayner wanted to tell him about screaming and kicking the house and how Seifer dug him a hole and told him to keep his shirt on. He wanted to ask Roxas how you went about choosing what kind of sticks were good enough to mark your best friend's grave when she died at fifteen of an achy heart. He didn't, though.

"Yeah," he said instead. "I'm sure."

Roxas made a noise, like a laugh that he choked on, and bit his knuckle. "Shit, shit, shit." He breathed in deep but his exhale was shaky; he put his head in his hands and started shivering.

Mostly it was awful because Hayner couldn't hate Roxas when he was on the floor, shivering. He was sad and little and just the same. Everybody cried when they lost somebody. Roxas was losing Olette for the first time, right now, and Hayner had lost her over and over and over but he still felt it hard like a shard of plastic wedged inside him, so he fell to his knees next to him.

"Hey, hey," he said, putting his arms around his shoulders. "God, Roxas, I'm sorry."

Why? You didn't kill her.

Roxas didn't say that. He just sobbed harder like grief was clogging his lungs, sobbed like he was coughing it up, he leaned forward so Hayner had to keep him supported.

After a while. After - a long time, it was just Roxas, crying, and he smelled clean and bitter like medical tape, but he still also stank of burnt plastic the way he had in the street. He breathed heavy and warm and slow, very slow, his sobs wracked his body less until he could talk.

"I just..." he said. "I'd thought you guys were alive together somewhere. I'm...sorry. I mean I lived it, too, I know what can happen out there but I just - " he choked, and Hayner cooed and pressed him to his shoulder like some kind of fucking sap who had the time to spare. Roxas took it. "I just...needed you to be okay. And when I saw you I assumed - "

"I know."

"I'm sorry," Roxas said. "I have no right - "

"Shut up," Hayner said. "Come on. She was your friend, too."

He nodded, and pushed his face into Hayner's collarbone, which creeped him right the fuck out. That he would just touch him like that, so casually. Like it was okay to just touch somebody, to put your face on their collarbone like that, because he knew he couldn't ever do that to Seifer. Seifer would shove him off and ask what was wrong with him, and he'd be right to do it.

But...he was losing Olette for the first time.

There were pieces of Olette's bangs that she couldn't ever get to lie flat, and even five years into the shitstorm she still insisted on wearing socks that matched at least a little, and he once caught her doing crunches before she went to bed.

"It's funny how being homeless doesn't make you skinny," she'd said, and scowled hard. She'd told him what if being pretty meant the difference between a rich man trying to buy her and a rich man falling in love with her and taking care of them all.

So it was a real hoot when Axel had gone for Roxas.

It was really fucking hilarious.

Olette was dead. When she died her skin got all white, and Hayner didn't even touch her for a whole day so she got these little dark spots on the backs of her arms where the blood vessels had given up.

He hadn't actually touched her. After she'd gone, he realized now, holding onto Roxas, that he hadn't once touched her dead body. Seifer and picked her up and put her down in that hole, gentle as you please. And fucking bless him for it because otherwise she would've turned into that awful swollen leaking thing they'd seen on the banks of the river however long ago.

Months. A year.

A long time.

And Roxas was only just now learning about Olette, who Hayner could - who - she had been thin and flat with bangs that turned up and - her face...

Oh.

Hayner didn't start crying with Roxas, who was still pressed into his shoulder, but he wanted to. He just...couldn't. Roxas didn't have a lot of things to cry about, he guessed.

After a while, Roxas lifted his head again, hiccuping and warm and blotchy with red eyes. He wiped half his face with one sleeve and smiled. "I really am sorry," he said.

"Me too," Hayner said.

"Was it...how...?"

Hayner shook his head, mostly because he didn't know. "Not like Pence," he said. "She just sort of...I don't know, she wasn't eating as much, and she didn't really want to go outside, and..." he sighed. "I think she was sick. Not like cancer sick or something, but sick in her head, and it wasn't like I could take her to a doctor and she just stopped caring - I mean I tried, but she just - after a few weeks she wouldn't even leave her room and she was just so tired all of the time - "

"Okay," Roxas said.

Hayner shut up.

Roxas seemed like he was waiting for him to keep going, but he didn't.

"I get it," he said. "And it wasn't your fault. Please don't blame yourself, Hay."

He wanted to spit I don't, you idiot, of course I don't, shove him away and leave, but he didn't do that, either.

"...yeah," he said.

Roxas smiled, pulling back to really look at him before he stood up. Hayner joined him.

"So," he said. His voice was very calm and didn't at all match his face, which was still blotchy, or his eyes, which were still red. "Uh. I...has everything else...been...?"

Unsure what he was getting at - unwilling to guess - Hayner just sort of stared at him with pursed lips. He nodded to show Roxas he was listening.

While he struggled to find things to talk about, Hayner took a chance to look around the house, see what he was missing out on. There was the nice wooden table, up against a bland white wall with a framed photograph of a wheat field covered in snow. Just around the corner was a living room with a maroon couch and a big window that took up almost an entire wall. The window looked out onto a small, glassy lake, probably the source of the stream that he'd seen running through the park, though this lake was calm and dead. It was surrounded on most sides by tame little evergreen trees.

Hayner sucked in a breath and pulled himself back into the house, into the room, the inside place where he was instead of the outside place he could see, and saw the tall chrome fridge and the granite tabletop kitchen island. He could barely muster the energy for it. Inside all looked the same, really. Lots of straight lines and people convinced that the perfect armchair would really make a personal statement about who they were.

So: it was a high-ceilinged place with muted walls, maroon upholstery, and no dust. There. That was where Roxas had been living for six years. Hayner wondered what the bedroom looked like and tried not to sneer.

"Have you been okay, though, mostly?" Roxas finally managed to get out, eyes shining.

"Uh...what do you mean?"

"I mean...finding places to eat and live and work and everything, has that been...okay?"

"Oh, yeah," Hayner lied, "That's been fine. We do okay. We get along."

"Who's we?"

"Just me and...people. Other people I meet." Roxas was a good kid who cared about his old friends, but Hayner didn't need him nosing into things that weren't his business. Maybe he'd spent too much time around Seifer, because he was mapping that conversation out in his head:

"Who's we?"

"Me and Seifer. You remember him. Seifer Almasy."

"Hayner, that guy was a dick, you can't be walking around with him! You hated each other! Don't waste your time on him."

"Really, Rox? Because it's not like I've got people lining up outside my door to sweep me off my feet and bring me to a tall building with windows for walls. I can't do this alone and he's all I have."

"But he's - he's so fucked up, Hay, you know that, you know how fucked up he is. You're just gonna make each other worse."

"Give me another option."

And he stopped there because it was - feeling too much like an argument with himself.

"And you can trust them?"
"Oh, yeah," Hayner said. His voice jumped up a good couple of octaves. "Yeah, I can trust them just fine."

Roxas nodded at him, then toward the living room couch. The couch was soft but supported, firm, the careful kind of balance that came from underuse. "But you're...I mean ultimately you're on your own? Nobody's waiting for you?"

"Why?" Hayner asked, which of course meant no.

"I mean...you could stay," Roxas said. "For a little while. If you want."

He meant it, too, stupid fucker, in his heart and in his eyes.

"Is that a good idea?"

"Why wouldn't it be a good idea?" he said, and coiled back like he'd been stung. Roxas had always been like that - he had, for the most part, been the sort of stupid fucker who read too much into absolutely everything. Hayner couldn't tell if he was a pessimist or a paranoiac or just an idiot, and he knew, he knew, he knew it was because he was the same way. People said things...the way people said things, they could mean anything. Is that a good idea might mean No. Or it might mean - are you sure?, or I'm giving you a chance to back out just in case, or - "Won't your boyfriend have a problem with that?"

"What, Axel?" Roxas laughed. "Axel, he's - no. No, he's fine, he'll like it. Talking to you. He likes talking to people like you, I mean - not people like you, obviously. But he...he'll like you. God, I don't even know what I'm saying. That's not what I meant. But you know." He nodded at a painting on the wall, a long stretch of forest without any birds or deer or animals at all. Just trees and rocks.

"Not really," Hayner said. This might be an easier subject, he thought. At least easier than Olette or Seifer. Talking about Axel might make Roxas a little nervous, scared of offense (serves him right), but just then Hayner didn't begrudge him anything.

He imagined what he'd do if somebody came down from out of the sky and loved him and asked to take him away. He'd only seen Axel a handful of times before he'd taken Roxas away, mostly as secrets, as accidents.

The first time was the most embarrassing. He remembered calling his name out, over and over, hey Roxas, hey, Roxas where are you, I don't know, Pence, he's not replying, and he'd stumbled down a road and looked into the dark doorway of a bar to see something tall, dark, towering over Roxas. It was awful. It reminded him of being a little kid, when you only reached somebody's ribs. When you were raised in a place where logic and words were supposed to be the final say and then you were twelve and you realized the biggest kids would get the most food.

And a big tall thing towered over Roxas.

He remembered - screaming, then, like an idiot, because if you shouted then an adult would come. Obviously. But Axel had just raised his head and Roxas had laughed, a lot, too much. In retrospect Hayner wondered if it had been nerves. Laughter was like vomiting your heart out sometimes.

Roxas laughed now, too. "I mean that he's...he's harmless, Hay. You'll like him. I mean he's not...what you'd expect, from somebody like that, I guess? He doesn't act like money. He doesn't. He's a good guy."

"They always are," Hayner said before he could stop himself.

Roxas frowned. "Who's they?" he said.

"I don't know," he said. "People we love. People who love us. Everyone's always gotta justify everything," he waved his hand and sat back on the couch, looking at the painting. It was an original. The paint was thick and globby in places.

"Justif- um. What do you...mean by that?" His voice was guarded. His words tiptoed around what he really meant. It was adorable, kind of, in a way Hayner had forgotten about.

"Isn't that what always happens?" he said. "We do bad things, like, like we're mean to people or we fail at things or we break them, and then we have people who love us sitting around, so they can tell you it wasn't your fault, and you're a good person, and you're just tired and you're better than most people, even if you're not. No one ever is." He wasn't making sense, but he didn't care. Roxas wasn't Seifer. He didn't even come close. Hayner could say all the stupid clueless shit he wanted, and Roxas wasn't gonna call him out on it.

"Well..." Roxas licked his lips. He stared at his toes. "You kinda have to, don't you? I mean...if you're gonna live with yourself, you can't go around...telling yourself you're a bad person."

"Why not?"

"Because - you'll hate yourself! Jesus Christ. That's a terrible way to live."

"Better than lying," Hayner said, "Once you get used to it. It's a helluva lot better than making everything seem better than it really is."

There was a hand on his arm, a damp warm little hand curling around his arm, and Roxas said, "What is this really about?"

It's about how I'm bad, but I can't change, and Seifer's bad, and he can't change, and together we're just awful and I don't know how to fix anything but starting over will make it worse, and I want to peel off my face, and it's not about you but you won't believe me because it should be about you, and Hayner thought, I wish I could just look at you and have you know everything I'm thinking because I think it hurts to talk.

Out loud, he said, "Nothing, sorry. I'm just so tired. You know how it gets." It wasn't worth explaining.

"Yeah." His hand rubbed up and down Hayner's arm. "'m so sorry, Hay," he said. "I feel so helpless."

"That's nobody's fault," he said. "What're you supposed to do?"

"I don't know," Roxas said. He brought his arms around Hayner's shoulders. "I just feel like...I should be doing something."

"You are," he said. "This is - " he touched his fingers to Roxas's wrist, "This is...helping. Thank you."

He didn't mean it, but then, he never did. In the short term, he supposed, it was easier to let your friends think they were good people. They did him the same courtesy.

Axel tried his best to be quiet when he came home. It was late; Roxas liked to fall asleep at the weirdest times.

But Axel had big feet - big shoes, on those feet - and the wet rubber squeaked on the wooden floor when he came home. He toed his sneakers off in the entrance hall, rapping his knuckles against the plaster to see if Roxas was up.

"Rox?"

"Sleeping," said a new voice.

Some scrappy blond kid was standing in front of Axel's window, staring outside with his hands stuffed in his pockets. Axel didn't panic, but it took some effort. He held still for a second in case the stranger felt like explaining.

"Sorry," the guy said. "I don't think he meant to. I think he meant to introduce us."

Axel raised his eyebrows. "Feel like introducing yourself, then, buddy?"

The guy glanced at him with his mouth absently open, flicked his eyes back to the window and shook his head, "Right, yeah, sorry, sorry, of course. I..." He sighed.

"Um. Hayner," he took two steps forward with an outstretched hand only to let it fall before Axel could reach out. "Yeah. Old...old friend of...Roxas's. You don't remember me." It wasn't an accusation, just a fact; you don't remember me.

"Name sounds familiar," which was Axel's way of saying, yep. I don't.

"Sorry," Hayner said. "I dunno, I thought I saw him in a shop and we started talking, he asked me back here to catch up, said I should meet you."

"No kidding?" Axel dropped his bag on the floor, kicking it toward one wall.

One thing Hayner'd figured out like — ten days in or, or something like that, it didn't matter — was that nothing tired Roxas out like emotional strain. He'd slept like a coma patient for a while. Hayner would have to kick him or shove him to get him to wake up.

And it was like that now, only it wasn't at all, because the tables had been thoroughly turned and what Hayner wouldn't give to be locked in that room with the peeling green paint again. To have Seifer to exchange suspicions with.

Roxas was asleep with his head on Axel's leg, and Hayner was so, so fucking tired, but he was used to it. He'd been tired for going on eleven years now. In his bone marrow there was tired and there was no getting rid of it. He couldn't think straight for the haze.

"He knows me better than I know myself, most days," Axel said. "I mean, he knows what I need."

If Hayner thought that meant fucking and bedtime handjobs to get him to sleep, his face didn't show it. There were a ton of innocent ways to interpret that sentence but — well, he was a product of his environment, and all that.

"That's great," he said. He kept his eyes on the coffee table.

"So he…he made the right call, that's all," Axel said. "Telling you to stay. Telling you to meet me. I've been dying to talk to you."

"I'm not a super interesting person to talk to," Hayner shrugged.

"It's not that — " Axel sighed. "It's…no, man, believe me, I know how condescending this gets. But maybe you can…I have these friends, right, lap of luxury, sitting in their lawn chairs drinking fruit smoothies and just talking themselves to death. You know."

"Yeah," Hayner said. He leaned against the arm of the couch and flicked his eyes up to the window, the neat, groomed lake and trees. Yeah, he knew. He used to be one of them. Not his problem.

"So maybe you can clear something up for me. You know, give me some evidence to back up my claims."

"We get most of our clothing from abandoned houses," Hayner said. "I don't know anyone who makes their own, like, not from scratch."

"Wh— " Axel laughed. He had a pleasant laugh, very economic, a little puff that expanded his ribs just enough to test the buttons on his shirt. "Good to know. You get asked that a lot?"

"A few times," Hayner said. He stretched his bare foot out onto the carpet. Carpets. Whole surfaces covered in soft stuff to keep your bare feet warm. What an idea. "Why? What'd you wanna know?"

"They're just, a few of them have got this idea from books and old essays," he said, wrinkling his nose, "It all stinks a little of Social Darwinism to me, that's all. That if you have trouble finding food or a place to sleep at night or staying warm in the winter, you don't worry about…" he rolled his hand in the air, "Other, less immediate stuff, like your place in the universe. Finding love, reading books."

"Uh-huh," Hayner said.

"Well…" Axel scowled. "There you go. That's what they think."

He huffed. The rug was so soft, felt so nice on his feet, would feel nice if he stood up and walked all around the room, all over the floor. And stop as soon as he got to the hardwood. Seemed terrible. Seemed easier to put on slippers.

"Good for them," Hayner said.

Axel raised his eyebrows. "So are they right, then?"

"Fucking of course not," he said. "What do you want me to say? People like that never change their minds." He flicked his eyes up to Axel, whose face was smooth, who was leaning his cheek on his fist. "No offense."

"None taken," Axel said.

"I mean…I don't know about everyone," he said. Falling in love or reading books. He thought of how it had felt to fist his hand in Seifer's hair, how it was greasy, and wet with rainwater, how they hadn't said a word about it. "But I've never met anyone like that."

"I figured," he said. "It's like they're talking about zoo animals. I didn't want to think that was true."

"You gonna tell them that?"

Axel laughed. He settled his hand on Roxas's hair, which set off this kind of — sadness, a little cold lump above Hayner's belly and underneath his throat, because he had no one to touch his head when he slept. Axel laughed and said, "Of course not. People like that never change their minds."

Hayner was tired of being there for other people. What he wouldn't give to yell. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs and break glass against walls and destroy perfectly good useful tools. He wanted to wreck things and then leave.

He sighed; one thing he'd learned was how much effort it took to make a place stay clean. This house, Roxas's nice little apartment, it wasn't exactly neat, but the furniture was all in order and lined up straight with the walls. The chords for the lamps were coiled.

He'd seen places with the furniture knocked over, but more the places where there was nobody to close to blinds so the sun bleached patches of the floor, or nobody to close the drawers all the way, nobody to discourage the bugs so you could find whole cities of cockroaches in the cupboards. There was a difference between abandoned and destroyed.

Even Vexen's house - those places on the walls where the wood was lighter underneath picture frames, it was things like that. It would've been so easy to knock over a chair and leave it knocked over.

He'd just love to do that here, do it right fucking now while Roxas was telling him to spend the night, really, you have to, it would make me feel better. He wanted to slap him or kick his shins or kiss him so Axel saw it. He wanted to wreck this place, and then just leave.

"You wouldn't be any trouble," Roxas was saying. "We've got plenty of room. There's no sense holing up in some slum when you could be staying here, even for a few nights, and - the offer stands for more than that." He looked past Hayner's head then down at the floor.

He was so small. Well-fed, and a grown up, sure - in a way Hayner hadn't noticed, but they were big now, all of them. He looked at Roxas and saw the guys he used to worry would grab at Olette. He guessed he and Seifer were like that now, too. Seifer had always been big.

"I was talking to Axel," Roxas said. "And we both pretty much agreed that you can stay as...long as you want, you know?" He laughed before Hayner could open his mouth. "No pressure, obviously! Nothing like that. We wouldn't force you. But I just...I know this must sound stupid, coming from me, but I figured it was better than living day-to-day. I don't mean that...that it's...nothing's coming out right," he said.

Hayner smiled at him. He didn't even - he didn't even have to think about it, not even for a second. Never mind that he'd be some kind of glorified goddamn pet. It didn't sit well with him, knowing he'd get soft and then do something bad and get kicked out on a whim. He didn't know this place. He'd rather be comfortable than safe any day.

"I think I should just go," he said. Roxas's face got a little tight, his mouth closed, he frowned. It was a pretty impolite thing to say. Hayner had had to get rid of his manners to make room for more important things.

"Oh," Roxas said. "Was it...did I say something - "

"It's fine, Roxas," Hayner said, as gentle and cold as he could.

It felt amazing. He wasn't under Seifer's boot; he wasn't surrounded by a crowd of people deep in the same shit he was. He didn't have a nice house or a loving partner or clean shoes, but he had a caution in his voice that made Roxas feel small. If he was a bad person for using it, then so be it.

"Right," Roxas said. "Sure. I'm, I'm sorry that..."

"I'll see you later," Hayner said, and left before Roxas could finish.