"Smile." You know you can't.
"You smile enough for the both of us."
Roxas traced gloved fingers idly over the cover of /Great Expectations/, sending a shiver up Axel's own spine. He had found the blond-haired nobody in the library, gazing blankly at the books that lined the shelves and littered the tables in a haphazard, yet strangely organised manner, and Axel had been content to just look at him, leaning against the doorway.
It was a sort of strange disquiet, since, ordinarily he would have walked straight up to Roxas and done something/, anything, because really, the kid was too damn silent and too damn still, fill up the empty space with words and arm-flinging actions. But there was something.../else about Roxas that day, sitting on the couch that Larxene usually inhabits, looking almost /relaxed/. At peace.
He wasn't smiling, but at least Roxas didn't look like he had constipation for the past two weeks.
So he shut his mouth, and just allowed himself to bask in the funny silence, and really it was nice, not trying to dominate the atmosphere for once.
Until Roxas spoke.
Axel felt a perverse sense of pride that only Roxas can make him go, "Huh?" without the obligatory inferiority complex that went with it, unlike practically everyone else in the Order (except maybe Demyx, but poor, sweet, silly Demyx would never have made him go, "Huh?" /ever/) and he uncrossed his arms, slowly making his way to the couch. He raised an eyebrow as Roxas looked up at him, and then moved to make space, even though the couch was more than enough.
Well, more space for him then, as Axel sprawled himself over the offered plush, taking the opportunity to pillow his head on Roxas' lap, staring up at the pointed chin and the sky-blue eyes. He felt the thighs beneath him tighten and tense, and he grinned.
This was really nice.
"What do you mean, Roxas?"
There was a tiny shrug of tense shoulders, and then Roxas spoke again, "Exactly what I said."
"That sucks. A lot."
Roxas' face remained impassive (and really, he could give Zexion a run for his money for having the most inexpressive face amongst the Order), and Axel sighed, reaching out one hand to tug gently at one of Roxas' yellow locks.
"I don't want to smile for the both of us, you know. I mean, hell, I've seen my smile dozens of times, thousands, millions of times."
His fingers trailed down the side of Roxas' face, and he was watching intently for any change, any twitch, any reaction in that placid expression. But there was none. Axel couldn't help thinking that he would never see any change in Roxas, ever.
"I want to see your smile, Roxas."
He thumbed the sullen curl of pale lips, slowly tracing the flesh. Wishing he could feel through the black leather of the gloves. Wishing he could be brave enough to whisper the gloves away and /touch/.
Roxas closed his eyes, and he repeated his words, almost like a mantra.
"You smile enough for the both of us, Axel."