[ Axel chuckles bitterly at that first remark, but says nothing more. Oh, he knows, trust in that. Knows personally, in fact, because worse things did happen -- his marching orders, specifically, being the paramount of that. But at least that Roxas hadn’t recognized him when he’d come to carry them out, (though that’d been disheartening, so to speak, in its own right).

Which is why none of this makes any sense whatsoever -- from the way they’re able to fall right back into step, Axel’s longer, lankier strides making the blond’s shorter legs work double-time to keep up, to their casual conversation, like that 358th day had played out in a totally different way.

And he’s saying now that he’s been here for two years when the Roxas he knows -- or used to, perhaps? -- only existed for less than one? ] You’re right -- it does sound pretty crazy.

[ Too crazy. Axel stops again, squints those impossibly-bright eyes visibly. ]

Wait a sec -- two years?! How...

[ Am I dead? He touches his chest unconsciously, making the chains on his cloak jingle. He feels real; Roxas feels real, so... is this a world between, then? An alternate universe of some sort? No, that wouldn’t work, either. No matter how he tries to form it all up in his mind, the timeline just doesn’t make sense, period. Roxas can watch the wheels turn in his friend’s mind for a moment, the telltale clench of his jaw perhaps saying it all. There’s stillness and silence for a moment before all that dissipates with the shake of a head, a gloved hand rustling fire-red spikes in clear frustration. ]

You know what? It doesn’t matter. [ Though that sounds more like something he’s telling himself just to prevent further headache rather than something he earnestly believes. ] You remember me, right? And I’m here now. [ Just two years late with Starbucks, yes, but it’s better than nothing.

Axel turns a playfully-endearing grin to his friend. ] So that’s a promise kept, in my book.