And the Sun Never Sets in Twilight Town

It was all so empty.

The sun blazed in Axel's eyes; endless red against gold, wandering clouds never lingering long enough to hide the light. Always the same view from this place. Always the same, yet never, because every day had been different when he—

"Ngh."

—well he wasn't there anymore. Perhaps that meant every sunset was the same now.

It ached, the emptiness. What could he call it, this hollow thing that refused to be burnt out of his chest? No matter how he blazed it never caught aflame. It was endless, stinging nothing, without even the easing of ashes.

All he wanted was for it to end.

"A-ah."

One finger then another, deeper and deeper. Was it desecration to come to this place where they'd sat together, just the two—three?—of them? Was he going to burn up all that made this place beautiful by doing this here, ruin it in pursuit of something he wasn't sure he could even feel?

It wasn't like Axel could care. He just wanted the emptiness to stop. Nobodies could want, right?

He managed to slip his third finger in, breath escaping in gasps. No one would come here. Even if they did he didn't care. They could see his discarded boots and pants, gloves tossed aside, and if they saw that and kept going, well, they couldn't really blame him could they?

How nice it would be for it to be someone else's fault.

"Fuck!" There, just there. His fingers brushed that spot again and he writhed, coat hanging off his shoulders, toes pressing into the leather where it lay, open and trapped beneath him. Again, again, he rubbed against that place, one hand pulling at his hair as the other thrust inside him. Fuck, it felt good—felt good just to feel something.

Over and over, and if he closed his eyes against that sunset he could pretend. There were hands on his thighs pushing them up, wider, and lips on his throat because they couldn't quite reach his face. Couldn't kiss him. They trailed, so soft—or chapped? All those times he spent looking at Roxas and he couldn't remember, couldn't—

"Ah!" There, there, no thinking. Everything went wrong when you thought too much. Every plan he'd ever made fell to pieces, just a spider's web to be brushed away.

But was it thinking or feeling that got you in the end there, Axel?

Thinking, obviously, because he couldn't feel a thing. He just went through the motions like he remembered them, the way they'd been when he had a heart.

Motions. Deeper, deeper, and his mind slipt away.

Hands on his thighs that had never been there in life, and they were were gentle then rough as he pushed into him. Axel whimpered. His fingers went harder, deeper, and then they were his cock, going so fast it was driving Axel out of his mind. How wonderful, how perfect, to be out of his mind, how everything he'd ever fucking wanted.

Fingers—no, lips danced over his chest, caught a nipple and sucked, tongue sliding, a gentle nip of teeth. Axel's breathing stuttered, and those lips trailed to the other side, so neglected, and all the while Roxas kept pounding into him. Axel could see him; cocky blues eyes and sweat and a breathless smirk, breaking into a smile.

Leaning in to whisper that he—

Couldn't. Couldn't love him, because Nobodies couldn't feel.

Axel grit his teeth, rolled onto his side. His fingers slid in and out, rubbing his walls. The pressure built, stomach and thighs tingling, cock painfully hard. He wouldn't touch it, would keep on fucking himself as long as he could, as hard as he could—would Roxas do that? Would he like that, keeping Axel up here and on edge, teasing, and Axel promised, promised, that he'd get him back for it, but just please, please—

Well I guess I'll never know.

Pain. "Fuck." His fingers caught as they slid in but he didn't stop, couldn't stop. It was only physical, and that burn was better than the one that seared everything inside him. Everything it touched, gone, and better his teeth in his lip and the ache of his hole, so base and so much better.

And maybe—maybe Roxas would turn him over and fuck him on his knees, call him a bitch in heat while Axel moaned - and then he'd laugh, because they hadn't been fucking long enough yet for him to talk dirty without breaking character. Axel would join him, laughter only failing when Roxas rubbed inside him just right, and then Axel could feel release coiling in his stomach, begging for it, but he still refused to touch his cock. Refused to let the moment end.

Unless Roxas turned him over and straddled him, sinking down on his cock. Axel's rhythm stuttered, hand sloppy as he imagined tight, wet heat around him and blue eyes hazy with pleasure, looking down at him as he rolled his hips. Axel wanted to hold him as they rocked together, hesitant at first but growing more confident, and Axel almost wished someone would look up at them from the world beneath their clocktower. See Roxas fuck him, see Axel fuck Roxas, and know just how fucking lucky Axel was.

Lucky. What was the opposite of that? Cursed? That seems more likely.

Then the thought was gone. Even without a hand on his cock his pleasure built. All those worthless things that tumbled through his head fell away; golden memories fading beside imagined pleasures, emptiness and the things he couldn't feel both plummeting into nothing even as Axel rose up and up, voice escaping in pathetic moans because he couldn't keep it in, couldn't keep any of it in—

Had to let it all out in an inferno because it was going to break him, and it didn't matter that Nobodies couldn't break this way because Axel—

Axel broke.

It all came rushing out of him. The marks on his cheeks couldn't stop wet tears escaping. He fucked himself through his orgasm, body seizing and lips parting in a gasp that Roxas swallowed whole, and this time when he pulled back to kiss his ear it was Axel who said, "I love you."

Then he was spent. The afterglow faded and the empty burn came back. He was sticky, tacky with his own sweat and cum, but he couldn't bring himself to rise. Couldn't bring himself to care. Instead he turned his head, shifted so he lay half on that precarious edge of the clock tower. He glanced down and there were the memories. Three—two sets of legs swinging over that drop, and the sun always setting, always red.

Hey Roxas. Bet you don't know why the sun sets red.

Jostling, laughing, sea salt blue dripping down and down and down. Blue like the sky of far away places, but never the sky of Twilight Town.

You see, light is made up of lots of colors, and out of all those colors, red is the one that travels the farthest.

A moment of nothing, then a rib in his side, harsh words softened with humor, and then—laughter. Golden laughter.

But it faded, that gold. It always did here. The dark never came—why did he think of the dark?—and the gold shone so brightly, but then it was gone, and there was the red. Endless, endless red.

Endless, lonely red.

He watched the sun sinking eternally and wondered. How many days had he spent with them, and how many more would he spend alone?

Anything but that.

He rose to sit finally, but went no further. The empty space inside was too heavy for him to stand. He just sat and watched the sun go down. It burnt, endlessly and alone.

Axel closed his eyes.

At dusk, I will think of you...and the sun never sets in Twilight Town.