Ginger Ale and Playing Cards


Drink up baby,
Stay up all night
With the things you could do,
You won't, but you might,
The potential you'll be
But you'll never see,
The promises you'll only make.
Drink up with me now,
And forget all about
The pressure of days,
Do what I say,
And I'll make you okay
Drive them away,
The images stuck in your head.
People you've been before
That you don't want around anymore
That push and shove and won't bend to your will,
I'll keep them still...

Roxas cracked open a can of Ginger Ale and took a swift gulp before any of the little carbon bubbles had a chance to escape. It instantly stung his nose, causing his eyes to water, but he gulped it down anyway.

“Drink more Ginger Ale,” his mother had told him, “It’ll help with your stomachache.”

Yeah, right... Three cans of the bitter soda later and the blonde’s stomach only hurt more.

He laid back down in bed, letting a defeated sigh escape his lungs. Or it was more like a wheeze, which somehow clawed its way out of his chest. He had been sick in bed for three days, and was quickly nearing on a fourth. Apparently he had the flu, or something like it, that took all his energy away. It left him only with an energetic mind that begged to do all the physical activities that his body couldn’t handle.

Roxas hated being sick. He hated being sick almost as much as he hated going to school, but... Not quite. He pulled the covers over his head, as he withdrew into the fetal position, trying to keep all traces of heat inside the little den he had created for himself. The rest of his room was cold, brisk, and felt sharp inside his throat whenever he took a breath. Five layers of blankets were piled up over him, and he was positive they were the only things that were keeping him warm.

“Roxas...?” A soft, but familiar voice was heard from behind his door, and he could imagine the tall, slender figure standing behind it, shifting his weight with apprehension as he waited for the younger boy to reply. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” Roxas answered in a raspy breath. He then cleared his throat as he sat back up, leaning against the wall.

“How’re you feeling...?” The bed sagged slightly as his brother sat down. Roxas pulled his knees to his chest, resting his chin on top of them.

“I’ve been better.”

“Is the Ginger Ale helping at all?”

“No, not really.”

“Oh...” There was obvious disappointment in the other’s tone as he placed a hand on the lump of sheets that hid Roxas’s foot.

“I’m sorry Dem,” Roxas began, lifting his gaze to meet his brother’s aquamarine eyes. “I know you have this gig tonight, and I know it’s your first one, I just...” His speech was interrupted by a deep cough, the kind that stings your throat, and then burns afterwards. The boy fell silent.

Demyx moved his hand to Roxas’s head, mussing up the blond mass of hair that was spiked off to one side from being in bed for so long. “Nah, don’t worry about it. You wouldn’t enjoy it if you were sick! And besides, I’ll have other gigs.”

“Yeah, but this is your first one--“

“I said don’t worry about it.” A grin formed on Demyx’s face as he looked his little brother over, a giggle escaping him. “I like your new hairdo. You gonna keep it like that?”

Roxas rolled his eyes, pushing his brother’s hand off his head. “Yeah, you know, I just might.”

Smiling, amused, Demyx stood up. “I’ll be back to check on you in a bit, okay Roxy?”

Roxas nodded, a smile also crested on his face as he sunk back down into his covers. “Good luck tonight!”

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The moon was almost full that night, so Roxas’s room was coated in a soft, silver glow. He awoke to the large, luminous ornament hanging in the sky, staring at him through his window.

The more his consciousness came back to him, the more aware he was of the hoops and hollers coming from downstairs. Sitting up and rubbing his eyes, Roxas tried to focus in on the voices, deciphering them.

“Whoa ho ho! Easy now! Easy now!”

“Me?! You’re the one being rough! I didn’t do anything!” That was his brother, Roxas could easily tell, but he still couldn’t tell who everyone else was.

“You’re right, because it was neither of you. You walked into a table.” Said a third voice. It was low, but soft in a way as well.

Laughter then rumbled throughout the downstairs, and Roxas, rubbing his head, slipped out of bed. He slowly opened his door, careful to make sure that the hinges didn’t squeak when he closed it again behind him.

The voices got louder as the sleepy blond approached the stairs. The thought briefly crossed his mind on how his parents hadn’t noticed all the commotion, but then figured that they probably decided to invite some friends over. What other explanation was there?

Peeking his head over the railing, Roxas looked down into the kitchen. A pink haired man was silently eating a bag of potato chips, while Demyx was leaning against the counter, holding a glass of some sort of liquor--Roxas couldn't tell what. He was laughing at a joke a redhead was telling him, who was holding a can of beer.

What a head of hair... Roxas thought in astonishment. The man’s crimson locks stuck out from his head in the most gravity-defying way he had ever seen--the tips of the spikes looked almost sharp enough to break skin. He wore a black leather choker around his neck, and hanging from that was a metal flame. A red T-shirt hugged his chest while faded black jeans hung from his hips in the most casual, and almost... Seductive kind of way.

“Sora?! What the hell are you doing here?!” Roxas’s eyes widened when the redhead snapped at him. He hadn’t realized that he had been staring.

“Sora?” Roxas squeaked, taking a small step backwards so that he was further out of view.

“Yeah! Sora, come back here! I’ve been lookin’ everywhere for you!”

This caught Demyx’s attention, and he put his glass down, giggling. “Pshh! Axel! That’s not Sora! That’s my baby brother, Roxas!” He put hand lazily on the shoulder that apparently belonged to a man named Axel.

“Well he looks a hell of a lot like Sora!” Axel began to walk towards the stairway, causing Roxas to inch further up the stairs.

“Axel!” Demyx called, following, while the pink haired man nonchalantly rolled his eyes at the two of them. He appeared to be the only one who wasn’t drunk.

“Do you know how much trouble you got me in?!” Axel took a few steps up the stairs, and Roxas fell backwards onto his butt, cornered between the next stair and the buzzed redhead.

“Who’s Sora?” Roxas asked, bewildered, as well as intimidated. His voice came out again as nothing more than a squeak. He looked down at his brother, who was giggling to himself at the bottom of the stairway. “Demyx! Who’s Sora?!”

Roxas’s attention was brought back towards Axel, who was advancing on him, just about within arms reach. He apparently hadn’t stopped talking when Roxas had called for Demyx. “--And then the fire department came! It wasn’t my fault you know, you were the one who--“

“My name’s not Sora! It’s Roxas! ROXAS!” He exclaimed with a yelp when the redhead grabbed his collar. Axel pulled their faces close together, forcing Roxas’s cerulean gaze to meet Axel’s deep green. The fiery redhead spoke through gritted teeth, and Roxas was sure he was going to punch him if the pink haired man hadn’t come up from behind, pulling Axel away.

“Would you get a hold of yourself, Mr. Flamboyant?!” The man said, clearly vexed by Axel’s actions.

“Don’t you dare call me flamboyant, flower priss!”

Roxas watched Axel get shoved down onto the couch, as Demyx offered him a hand down the stairs. He was still a bit tipsy, but the shock of seeing the redhead break out like that must have brought a little sense back to him. He wrapped an arm around Roxas’s shoulder, and kissed him on the head.

“Demyx, who are these people?”

Walking into the room where Axel was getting lectured, Demyx sat down in a chair across from them, pulling Roxas down into his lap.

“This is Axel,” Demyx casually pointed a half-limp hand over at the fuming redhead, he was sitting back deep in the couch, arms crossed over his chest, “And that’s Marluxia,” Demyx then pointed at the pink haired man, who was being given a death glare by Axel as he tried to explain that Roxas, was in fact, not Sora. “Axel was in a gig at the show tonight too, but I've seen him around here or there for a while... Marluxia’s his manager, and--“ Demyx covered his mouth as a quaint hiccup flew out, “--And since mom and dad aren't here--“

“They're not?”

“Dun’ worry Roxy, it's just a business trip. I can hold down the fort! At least for a little while...”

“I know, but we hardly know these people--“

Demyx put his hand over his brother’s mouth. “And so I figured that I might as well invite them over, you know, make some friends! I love friends!”

Roxas smiled as he gently pushed his brother’s hand off his face. Demyx’s happy-go-lucky attitude always brought a smile upon him.

“So... Who’s Sora?”

Demyx sighed, shrugging. “I don’t--“ another hiccup bounced out of his mouth, “I don’t really know. I just met ‘im, Marly’s the one to ask.”

“Mm,” Roxas agreed. He was slightly spacing out, but then that pair of fierce emerald eyes locked with his. Something was burning within them that made Roxas sink down into his brother’s arms.

“He kinda scares me...”

Demyx patted Roxas’s soft, golden hair, and let out a light laugh. “Oh Roxy! He’s nuthin’ to be afraid of! He’s just a little... Uhm, woozy! He’s not always like this, honest!”

Roxas’s eyes just stayed fixed on Axel, who met his gaze with a glare.

How can he hate me already? We haven’t even met. I mean, I know he’s drunk, but still...

Leaving Axel to sulk on the couch, Marluxia walked over to them. It was just now that Roxas realized how he was dressed. The same style of jeans hugged his hips, but they were light blue, and very well warn. That part was normal, though. What had caught Roxas’s eye was the tight pink T-shirt that he was wearing and light blue scarf that was draped around his neck. It matched his eye color.

He stuck out a hand, and Roxas wasn’t sure if he was meant to take it or not, but seeing that he was the only one who Marluxia wasn’t acquainted with already, he gripped his hand, which was surprisingly soft.

"Hello... I would be Marluxia. Demyx told you about me already, correct? I'm that hot head's manager." He pointed with his thumb over to Axel. "Your name is Roxas, correct?"

“Uh, yeah--“

“Very well then... Hm, well, I don't want to seem rude, but I was wondering if it would be alright with you if we crashed here for the night... You see, Demyx drove us here after the performance... But he doesn't seem fit to drive us back. And since we lack a ride and your parents are out of town..." The man trailed off, looking at Roxas expectantly.

“Um,” Roxas turned his head to look at Demyx, but found that he was fast asleep beneath him, head tilted back, and mouth slightly agape. He really didn't have a way out of this. “I... I guess it would be alright. Just don't make a mess, and... make sure Axel... behaves himself."

The blonde swallowed, his throat burning mildly.