"Your hair's on fire."
"I know," the monster says, nodding sagely.
"Why is that?"
The monster gives him a shrewd look, acid bright eyes peering up at him from where he's seated on the floor. "Isn't this supposed to be your little sisters room?" he asks, not answering. The boy, maybe sixteen or seventeen and sprawled across pink floral sheets is clearly not little Namine. Not even close.
The boy nods. "It is."
The monster stares at him.
"She's been having nightmares," he adds, shrugging.
The monster eyes him incredulously, his odd brows (also on fire) lifted so high that those flames are mingling with his hairline. It takes him a minute, because why would- but, "Oh. That was you, wasn't it?"
"By George, I think he's got it," the monster says dryly, clapping his talons together mockingly.
"Oh. So why is your hair on fire, again?"
The monster rolls it's eyes and a piece of skin slides down his face, dislodged from somewhere near his temple. He fumbles with the chunk of flesh, presses it clumsily back to his skull and tugs a needle and string from his jacket. "Because my hair is fire, genius."
"Oh." The boy says again, sliding free of the sheets and onto the floor before the startled monster. He reaches for the needle. Says, "Here, let me help with that."
The monster stares some more while the boy closes him up, face so close to his that he can smell the boy's skin, clean with a hint of something sweet. When he's done, the boy hands the needle back and sits with his back against the bed, knees tucked beneath him. The monster is still staring when the boy asks, "What's your name?"
The monster splutters. "I am your worst nightmare! I am-"
"Actually, I think you're my sister's worst nightmare. But that's okay, she doesn't have a very good imagination just yet," the boy mutters quietly, as if he's trying to politely correct him. The monster raises his voice a bit.
"-fire and brimstone, festering flesh and pussing wounds-"
The boy looks curious, peering at the monster's wounds. "I don't see any puss, I mean you're a bit- well, gray, but-"
"-I am acid and deadly nightshade and-"
The boy cocks his head and smiles, says, "I thought deadly nightshade was a plant?"
"I'm-" he slumps, deflating with a sigh. "Axel," he manages, weakly.
The boy beams. "...And what's yours?" the monster asks slowly, with the air of someone who knows the answer is about to be offered anyway, question or not.
"I'm Roxas." he grins, setting an excited hand down on one of Axel's knees. "So, if I move in here does that mean you'll be my monster now?"