#hayven

Roxas kept saying he couldn't control all the weird monsters that still periodically appeared in Twilight Town, but those white zipper mouthed haunted onesies sure seemed to answer to him, and that Vanitas guy who'd dropped by last tournament had conjured three demon bunnies that he ordered around like servants, so it sure seemed like monster training was part of the whole "keybearer" deal. Roxas had explained the different between Heartless, Nobodies, Unversed and the special situations in the latter groups--Vanitas's relationship with the Unversed and the lesser Nobodies attuned to different masters that had once been more powerful Nobodies-- but it all seemed like semantics, excuses, and gibberish. To be fair, Hayner had a hard time paying attention when it had been explained because Roxas had ripped off his shirt after practice, and was standing with his Twilight Town University Tanukis struggle jersey slung around his neck, hair matted in ways that shouldn't have been attractive but were, and arms crossed behind his head, making it difficult to focus on anything but the muscles in his arms, the progress of a bead of sweat rolling slowly down his chest, or the flex of his stomach as he spoke, especially when the warm sound of his voice was so much more interesting than words. 

If it had been strategies for their first match of the upcoming season which included a face-off for Hayner against Dawn State's champion struggler, Edward "Edge" Geraldine, he could have retained it. That was important. The ins and outs of what legions of mutants could be trained and by whom? Unless Roxas was going to tell Hayner how he could master his own mutant army, or at least cop to being chief mutant wrangler himself, it was not nearly as interesting as wondering how likely he was to be able to pass it off as testing Roxas's reflexes or just seeing what what the look on his face would be if he kissed him right then in the middle of the struggle lot. Not that he would actually do it. He respected boundaries.

Hayner knew it was pathetic to still be crushing on his best friend when Roxas had been dating the same guy for “longer than he’s been alive” as Kairi had put it (however that worked). Axel had been a constant right from the start, already wrapped around Roxas--literally, hugging him from behind, arms wrapped loosely around him and chin resting on the top of Roxas's head while he wore a rather superior look that already knew Hayner wanted what he had and that reveled in rubbing it in, or so Hayner read into it at the time--when Hayner first awkwardly, unnecessarily introduced himself to him, handed him the picture of them from the fake Twilight Town Sora had given him that he was reluctant to pass on as much as he thought Roxas should have it, and told him, "I feel like I've known you my entire life." 

Hayner tended to write Axel out of that memory though, except when he was feeling especially masochistic, and only remember Roxas smiling so wide it crinkled the corners of his eyes and his voice warbling with emotion he'd rarely show easily in such force in times after, at least not directed toward Hayner, as he replied, "Please, can we pretend you have? I don't think my heart could stand it if we ever had to be strangers."

The friendship had continued like it had started. Roxas and Hayner were connected by invisible ties, instantly in sync, inside jokes about things that never actually happened already understood and able to finish each other's sentences. They challenged each other both to be better and, in other ways, so much worse than they were separately (The incident where they switched out the scheduled movie for the outdoor theater by Tram Common with a home video of various Twilight Town denizens not aware they were being filmed sprang to mind, as did the incident with Seifer and the feathers). 

Even so, it was always Axel who had Roxas's greatest devotion, and he'd go spiraling back to the redhead like they were magnetized, even when they fought, even the year Axel took off with his ex-boyfriend ("His best friend! Isa's just his friend like you're mine!" Hayner remembered Roxas's protestations well, and the shadow of doubt and pain in his eyes that Hayner had cursed himself for not being quite selfish enough to encourage. "And they're not on vacation. They're on a mission. They're looking for someone. Axel invited me to go. I was the one who said I wanted to stay here") and they only kept in contact by gummi phone. Roxas loved Axel more than his own life; he said as much, often and with vehement determination like he expected arguments.

It wasn't that Hayner didn't want to argue, but the injustice of Roxas being skateboard in the sky, face scraping the pavement in love with Got It Memorized the Former Kidnapper instead of him was matched by the fact that Axel wasn't a jerk, a cheater, or any of the other things Hayner had tried to paint him as in his mind in the beginning. Axel was constantly mocking him, that Hayner had been right about, but, other than that, he was, as much as Hayner wished it weren't so, a pretty cool guy, funny as hell, always had your back in a fight, and loved Roxas to the point of stupidity--and Hayner was forced to respect it...mostly.

Hayner tried to tell himself that he and Roxas were too similar in all the ways that would make them get on each other's nerves (too much to prove always, too impulsive, too quick to lose their cool, too used and turning everything into competition and too committed to always being the winner) and too different in ones that would leave them working up hill when it came to trying to carve out any long-term plans as well as soon scrambling for things to talk about other than taste in bands, boards, struggle, or what a dick Seifer could be--and even those sometimes failing after Roxas had shifted to offworld music rather than local, solar boards over skateboards, and had seen a "entirely different Seifer" during his brief relationship with Xion. Even knowing each other well enough to predict each other's thoughts was a curse when you thought about how hard it would make necessary white lies or trying to end a fight when you weren't yet completely sorry, particularly considering that, when Hayner reflected on it, he found he didn't regret any mean comment he had made in his entire life. 

Hayner also tried the tactic of reasoning with himself that he loved Roxas, but wasn't even really in love with him, or even consistently in lust as Roxas could ruin any effect he had with a single flash of self awareness, the kind that tended to solidify to outright conceit and smugness (gods Roxas could preen when he remembered he was pretty) that left a bitter edge in Hayner long after it faded. Even with all these tactics though, and every bit of good advice he could tell himself, Hayner couldn't shake that feeling he'd had since he first laid eyes on Roxas in the alternate Twilight Town's group photo outside the Old Mansion. He knew in his bones he was born to love that face as surely as if soulmate imprints had stepped out of science fiction and become real alongside the magic and aliens that had come to populate Twilight Town.

Hot water made everything seem better and brighter, loosening tight muscles and sweating out every problem until it existed no more. The memory of the fall he'd taken during practice, particularly brutal to his pride if not physically devastating, when he'd spun at a bad angle that made his left knee buckle, the ankle underneath it scream, and threw off his center of gravity swirled down the drain with dirt and grit picked up from the struggle lot pavement. Soon after it went the mud Roxas had smushed through his hair when he'd ruffled it after practice, laughing and ducking away as Hayner swung at him with the bat still in his hands and managing somehow to carry on laughing harder even while wincing in pain when the bat connected with a crack. A large purple splotched bruise had already been forming by the time Roxas left the locker room after the post-scrimmage strategy talk,  still covered in a layer of half dried sweat and with his hair sticking up more than usual on one side (Roxas didn't shower on campus after practice. Hayner only made the mistake of asking about it once. Roxas showered at home. Hayner had been informed of this with a wink form Roxas and a cheerfully lewd remark about how Axel liked him dirty). Hayner was sure he'd feel guilty when he saw the bruise in full form next time he saw Roxas, but, in the moment, Hayner had thought Roxas deserved it--and even more once he started questioning where Roxas had gotten mud in the first place and what implications it had for the theory Roxas was controlling weather. 

Lathering shampoo through his now mud-free hair and scrubbing harder at his scalp than necessary to also banish continued thoughts of his blond best friend, Hayner found himself startling and nearly slipping on the slick tile of the shower floor when he heard none other than the voice he was trying to banish calling out tentatively, "Hey! Hey? Sorry for bursting in on you."

 Hayner recovered, head snapping from side to side comically as if he'd find Roxas lurking in the corner of the stall when he should have known from the distance of the voice that Roxas was likely  on the other side of the locker room with the actual lockers and benches. If that was the case though, why was Roxas apologizing for bursting in? 

Hayner was still puzzling through it when Roxas continued shouting to him, this time something with a lot higher stakes in possible meaning. "Axel's already left for Wonderland and I thought you might still be here." 

Hayner let out a strangled noise of confusion that would have been him playing it cool and asking what he could help Roxas out with if his voice hadn't betrayed him. Shampoo dripped into his eye and it took him a second to even register the burn.

"I'll just sit out here and wait for you I guess, if you don't mind?" 

Hayner was concerned he had actually slipped in the shower and hit his head and was now suffering from a dying dream or concussion. 

"You're awfully quiet." The trepidation was back in Roxas's voice, and it caused an answering sympathetic flutter of nerves to tingle down Hayner's body and rest low. "I'm not talking to a stranger, am I? Or a ghost who turned on a faucet? That would be embarrassing."

"I'm here," Hayner found his voice but it refused to cooperate beyond those two words. His body was slightly more tractable, agreeing with his brain that he needed to wash the shampoo out of his hair and attend to washing the rest of him as swiftly as possible and not keep Probably A Dream Roxas waiting. He turned the water temperature up even higher. Maybe if he boiled himself until his flesh melted he might find a backbone under his skin and actually be able to carry on a conversation (and be able to follow through with whatever Dream Roxas was proposing so he wouldn't be left with a regret that would follow him until he died). 

“Do you have a cold? Your voice sounds a little weird.” 

“Weird how?” He squeaked and then overcompensated like a sitcom character, rumbling, “Weird how?” in a gravelly tone as he turned off the water and reached for his towel.

“Less like listening to a recording of my own voice,” the wry and completely nonsensical in Hayner’s opinion, reply came, Roxas’s voice quieter but a lot closer.

“I never thought we sounded alike.” Hayner finger combed his hair and wrapped the towel securely around his waist before performing a mental countdown to pysch himself up before stepping out of the stall to meet what turned out to be a complete stranger. Hair too long and a shade too light to be Roxas’s falling over the collar of a pale blue and  sunflower print kimono jacket Roxas wouldn’t be caught dead in. The absence of a tan and the addition of freckles were further confirmation of an eerie but imperfect doppleganger, but the dumbfounded look with lack of recognition in the eyes was the real cincer.