(no subject)

[caredfor.livejournal.com]

[sitting on a counter in the kitchen. he's found a box of wooden matches. he strikes one, watching it burn right down to his fingers, flinching when it burns him, then drops it to the ground. he repeats the process]

Dad said I'm not allowed to have these....

Comments

[caredfor.livejournal.com]

[looks at him through the flame with unseeing eyes]

Hi Roxas.

[caredfor.livejournal.com]

[winces as the flame burns him, drops the match, lights another]

Burning.

[caredfor.livejournal.com]

[tilts his head at the wing's flapping, still holding the charred matchstick]

Are you an angel?

[caredfor.livejournal.com]

[looks vaguely disappointed]

Mm-hm.

[caredfor.livejournal.com]

[takes the towel and holds it between his burned fingers]

Are you sure?

[caredfor.livejournal.com]

[looks away]

...not what I meant.

[caredfor.livejournal.com]

[chews his lip]

Are you sure you're not an angel?

[caredfor.livejournal.com]

[looks at the burns on his fingers, moving the towel over them]

Roxas should be an angel.

[caredfor.livejournal.com]

All of you.

[caredfor.livejournal.com]

[swings his feet]

I've been here a week.