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gin and sin
chapter ten
glistening in the cold sweat of guilt
i've watched you slowly winding down for years
you can't keep on like this...
now's a bad a time as any
speeding cars - imogen heap
The blonde groggily opened one eye, and found himself staring up into the equally tired face of Demyx. It took him a minute to recap, and realize why he was there, but as soon as he did he sat upright. He found himself in a reasonably comfortable bed, probably in a guest room at Demyx’s (or rather, his mother’s) house.
Demyx backed away, half-smiling. Roxas felt like there was a jackhammer going at his head; hangovers were the worst. Demyx all but thrust a glass of water into one hand, and a few little white pills into his other. “This’ll help with the headache and stuff,” said the dirty blonde.
Almost nervously, Roxas shoved the pills into his mouth and downed them with one quick gulp of the lukewarm water. Smacking his lips, mouth feeling dry, he glanced up to Demyx. “Uh…” he murmured. He honestly didn’t know what in the world he was going to say.
Part of him actually wondered if Demyx had molested him in his sleep. He didn’t trust the man, at all. He didn’t even really trust the pills that Demyx had just given him, even though they said the word Tylenol right on the capsule.
Demyx raised a hand, smiling. “Yeah, I know this is weird. But I can give you a ride home and everything in a bit. I need to pick Sora up.” Roxas gave him an accusing look, but Demyx quickly dodged his eyes.
Placing a cool hand to his head, Roxas winced as his brain pounded behind his eyes. Damn, I was pretty stupid last night. Never doing that again. The older man grinned, offering a rough hand to Roxas. “Anyway, you in the mood for breakfast? Or do you feel sick and pukey-like?”
Batting the offered hand away, Roxas stumbled to his feet, swaying as the vertigo set in. He was still mostly clothed, and his shirt was wrinkled, but he was otherwise alright. With the acidic taste of vomit on his tongue, from the night before, he tried not to dwell too much on the fact that he still felt incredibly nauseous.
He wanted to ask where the bathroom was, but he couldn’t shake off the feeling that Demyx would probably follow him around like a puppy dog, wherever he went. Roxas was obviously not very fond of Demyx, but the aloof older man seemed to ignore the fact completely.
Opening his mouth to speak, Roxas watched as Demyx swung by to scoop up the glass of water that was earlier offered to the blonde, only to watch him place it back down on an opposite bedside table. “No breakfast. Okay then! We should play Monopoly!” he all but exclaimed.
Arching an eyebrow, the blonde wondered why Demyx was behaving so… differently. Maybe he was just waking up, or maybe he’d smoked something before Roxas had woken up… the teen really didn’t know. Eventually, Demyx noticed he was staring, and the musician gave Roxas an airy laugh.
“Oh… uh…” he murmured, trailing off, “See, well…” Again, his thoughts went astray. Tapping a finger on his nose, he tried to put his words into place. “Aw, fuck. Anyway, Axel wants me to be more mature! So I’m acting all mature and stuff in front of him!”
Roxas blinked. “Oh, really?”
With an almost bobble-headed nod, Demyx waved his arms about like someone who’d had a little bit too much sugar. “Yeah, really! Anyway, I’m trying to get Axel to love me, so I have to be the kind of guy he wants.”
“Pretending to be something you’re not really isn’t going to help,” snorted Roxas, still in a rather sour mood on the topic of relationships. He couldn’t get the sound of Olette’s laugh out of his ears, or the taste of her skin, or how her body felt against his. His head drooped a little bit as he dwelled, and Demyx only took mild notice.
With a lazy stride into the next room, Demyx almost left Roxas behind. It was almost a second thought for him to peer back into the room with a perplexed expression on his angular face. “Hey, you should be following! Or do I have to hold your hand?”
Part of Roxas wanted to take the older man up on that offer. He didn’t feel quite there enough to really walk around, but his pride wouldn’t let him show it. Shaking the feeling that he wanted to throw up all of the organs in his body, Roxas pushed past Demyx, into the hallway.
Taking it as a sort of competition, Demyx shoved right by him, only to be passed by an increasingly aggressive Roxas. Only when he realized he was playing a stupid game with a possibly still drunk boy, Demyx gave up and fell behind.
Standing in the living room now, Roxas wondered what in the world he was going to do. The house was a lot cleaner than he’d imagined. The décor was all a dulling shade of periwinkle (probably Demyx’s mother’s choice), with the same shade of furniture and an old television sitting on a stand near the middle of the room. The only thing that seemed out of place in the little suburban nightmare was the ashtray on the coffee table that was piled over with cigarettes, and the bizarre looking instrument lying on the couch.
Demyx leaned against the entryway and grinned, expecting Roxas to ask him what the hell it was. “Sitar,” he stated, when Roxas finally did. “It’s not commonly used around here, but I started playing it when my mom brought it back from me from somewhere in India or something. I’m kinda rusty, so I’ve been practicing.”
The blonde let his mouth hang open. The thing looked completely bizarre. He had no idea how anyone could even play an instrument like that. It looked like a guitar with a gland infection. Deciding not to ask anymore (because he knew from simply overhearing Sora and the dirty blonde talking how in-depth their conversations about music could get), Roxas simply avoided the room altogether and scooted into the kitchen.
All of this fucking blue! Roxas grumbled as his bare feet slapped against the linoleum covered floor. Demyx was bright and happy behind him, as he all but bounced up onto a kitchen counter. In Roxas’s head, he was a little bit too old to be doing something like that, but Demyx was really still just a teenager.
Swinging his feet as he observed the smaller blonde, Demyx followed Roxas’s every movement with his eyes. When the teen merely took a seat at the kitchen table, Demyx found it high time to start a conversation.
“So, either the party last night was really bad or really good, judging by how smashed you were,” he said, a gleeful, ignorant smile plastered on his face. Roxas stared at his teeth – dull white and a little bit crooked, canines kind of pointy. “Tell me about it.”
Almost nervously, Roxas let his head fall into his hand. He really didn’t want to tell Demyx about it, but if anyone understood Axel, it was the idiot sitting right in front of him. “Bad. I met Axel’s… drug dealer,” he murmured. He really didn’t want to say the word ‘pimp’. Whenever he thought of that word, he thought of a rapper who made people’s cars really fancy.
“Oh, Marluxia?” said Demyx, cocking his head. A few strands of his overly long fauxhawk slipped into his eyes, and he pushed them away with an annoyed expression.
Roxas nodded. He didn’t really remember much about that night, but damn did he remember that man’s look of utter possession when he set eyes on Axel. “Yeah… Tell me, do you know how they even met?”
Jutting his lip out in thought (a habit that he must’ve taken up from Sora), Demyx banged his heels against the cupboards. “Well, Axel said Marluxia sold him shit a few times, and then offered to… well, y’know, put him in the business or whatever. Axel was kind of stoned when he told me, so I don’t think I quite got the whole story.”
“When isn’t he stoned?” grumbled Roxas, wishing for once that Axel would tell the truth. Or at least not some vague truth. Demyx laughed, bobbing his head in that irritating way, again.
“Yeah, that’s true. Anyway, I don’t know very much more about it. You’d have to ask Axel or Marluxia or those crazy thugs he always carries around,” said the dirty blonde, with a carefree shrug of his shoulder. For talking about his potential boyfriend’s cocaine dealer, he seemed rather calm.
Then again, Demyx was used to this kind of thing. “Crazy thugs? As in, the tiny one with the weird hair and the giant guy?” asked Roxas. He couldn’t really think of any other crazy thugs.
Laughing, Demyx responded; “Yeah! Those two. And the cowboy one, Irvine. He’s kind of thuggish. Like… thug-lite or something.”
So, Marlboro man is Irvine. That’s an even gayer name than Brad Pitt. “Thug-lite? You… retard,” snickered Roxas, shaking his head. He didn’t feel quite as bad as how he’d woken up, but his head still hurt.
“Don’t call me that!” whimpered Demyx, though a little unconvincingly. His big, blue eyes still held that familiar mischievous sparkle, like whenever he joked around with Sora. “Axel always calls me that, but that’s because he’s a jackass! You’re not a jackass, are you Roxas?”
The blonde mused on it for a moment, only to decide that he was in a horrible mood. “Yes, I am a jackass. And yes, you’re still retarded.” He frowned, crossing his arms, and turning away from Demyx.
Lip jutting out a little bit more, Demyx eased one leg, then the other, off the counter. He walked over to Roxas and leaned over his shoulder, the little strands of his hair that weren’t gelled into one big amorphous mass on the top of his head falling into Roxas’s face. “Why so grumpy, stumpy?”
“…Stumpy,” repeated Roxas, with a displeased frown on his face. “Axel calls me that sometimes.” Demyx’s eyebrows crept up towards his hairline, as he straightened his posture. He took a seat beside the blonde, with that same stupid smile on his face.
“You have a crush on Axel, don’t you!” he accused, immediately. Roxas, equally immediately, threw a punch at his face. Dodging out of the way with sluggish reflexes, Demyx laughed loudly. “Faggot!”
Face contorting in disbelief, Roxas kept his hard fist poised. “I do not. I will never. I’m not a fucking faggot like the both of you,” he said, words firm. Demyx just kept laughing, amused at the mere statement.
“You say that now.”
Roxas’s face only darkened. He lowered his hand, though – he wasn’t about to smack the guy who’d probably saved his ass, even if he was ridiculously annoyed of his constant accusations about his sexuality. He didn’t like Axel that way. Hell, he didn’t even really like Axel at all.
Blinking, Roxas thought for a moment. After all, it was Axel who’d basically saved his ass that night. While the blonde was hesitant to admit it, he was fucked if it wasn’t for Axel. So, really, he didn’t hate Axel that much. He still didn’t like him though. But I do, said that little nagging voice in Roxas’s head.
The dirty blonde kept that stupid smile on his face for a moment, before whipping his head around to glance at the clock. “Oh, shit!” he exclaimed, bounding right out of his seat. He looked like a deranged gazelle, stumbling all over the tile. “I’m supposed to get Sora for work!”
“What are you, his chauffeur?” grumbled Roxas, a little smile of amusement crawling onto his face as Demyx roared off into the next room. He came back with a pair of jeans only half done up and a baby blue t-shirt still over his head.
Pulling the shirt all the way down, Demyx frowned. “I’m just doing him a favor. Jeez, you don’t need to get so mean. Besides, Sora is like, the only friend I have right now,” said Demyx, staring at his reflection in the microwave and fixing his hair.
“Why’s that?” inquired Roxas. Demyx seemed like the type to have billions of friends, none of which who would remember his name. He was the partying type, liking to get stoned with anyone and everyone around him.
Demyx sighed. “Trying to get cleaned up, y’know? I’m done with the bullshit. Sick of waking up swimming in my own puke, not being able to remember the night before,” he said, with a dippy half-smile. “Anyway, that’s kind of a shitty way to start a day, talking about that kind of thing, so let’s go get your brother!”
“If I can stand up again,” said Roxas, dryly. Demyx just laughed, swinging his arm under Roxas’s, pulling the boy to his feet.
“I picked him up for ya, Tia. Saves a little bit of stress for you and all,” said the dirty blonde, flashing his trademark smile. Tia grinned back, only to find herself attacked by a little girl with a tummy ache, whining about how she thought the medicine was ‘ucky’.
Leaning down to pick the little girl up, Tia hoisted Selphie on her hip. “Hey, was Axel with you as well? Or did he go somewhere else last night?” inquired the woman. Demyx kept on his usual grin, even though he was about to make up his usual lies.
“He was at my house last night for a bit, but then he left to go do something with one of his other friends. He told me he’d be back here in the morning.” Selphie squirmed a little bit. She wanted to play trains with Axel!
Tia frowned, before making her way back into the kitchen. “Typical Axel. Always disappearing, that boy is!” She plunked Selphie down into her usual chair, setting her up with a Christmas colouring book which she immediately scribbled on. Santa’s face was a puke-green shade, this time.
Toeing off his shoes, Demyx followed the woman into her kitchen. “Yeah, Axel’ll do that. He’s not the most responsible guy ever,” he said, usual grin plastered on his face. “Where’s Sora? If I’m not mistaken, he’ll be late for work if he doesn’t hurry.”
“Sora? Oh, last I checked he was up in his room playing Nintendo or something,” said the dark haired woman, pulling a crayon away from Selphie’s mouth. Usually, the girl wouldn’t put her mouth near them, but she was getting kind of distracted lately. Probably thinking about the gifts she was getting.
Demyx shrugged. “I’ll go get him, then!” he stated jovially, before scampering up the stairs like the big kid he was. He all but barged into Sora’s room, to find the short brunet listening to Nelly Furtado while playing Mario Kart. Sora didn’t even notice his arrival, so it was all too easy for the older man to practically collapse on his younger friend. “Agh, you smell like feet!”
Flailing madly as his stomach was squished into his legs, Sora squawked in utter displeasure. “Get off of me!” he shrieked, though it was somewhat subdued, as his lungs felt like balloons being popped in the position he was in. Shouldering the knee that was pressing against his back, Sora successfully managed to get the taller man away from him.
“C’mon, stupid, you have to work!” announced the dirty blonde, tugging Sora up by his dirty t-shirt. “Or did you forget? Typical Sora.” Whining low in his throat, Sora batted Demyx’s hands away. “You haven’t even showered or anything…”
Sora jutted out his lower lip. “I’m clean!”
“You smell like socks. That doesn’t qualify as clean.”
“Yeah, well your hair is so greasy it sticks straight up,” grumbled Sora, fishing for some clean clothes. Demyx frowned. It was hair gel! Not grease! Self-consciously, he straightened his hair.
“Low blow, man,” grumbled the dirty blonde. He was proud of his hair. It had an aerodynamic quality not many people seemed to acquire. “Besides, you said you thought my hair was cool!”
Sora laughed, tugging his atrocious uniform shirt over his head. “I was just kidding, stupid. No need to take it so seriously,” he said, sticking out his tongue. Arranging his hair into its usual disarray, Sora stuck out his arms and said; “Tah-dah.”
The older man feigned applause. “Brilliant, though I do say the presentation is a tad shabby.” Slugging Demyx in the arm, Sora strolled out of his bedroom. The two headed back down the stairs, Sora only taking a moment to complain about not being able to go to the bathroom (which was currently occupied by a showering Roxas).
The two of them rushed off with only a quick word to Tia. Demyx said, again, that Axel should be around later, and not to worry if he wasn’t. This didn’t prevent the woman from doing just that, but the reassurance was better than nothing.
Axel turned his head, cigarette dangling listlessly between his lips. He looked horrible, standing there, in dirty clothes with his hair hanging in his face in rather ugly clumps. “…Yeah,” he croaked, before clearing his throat.
Leaning against the patio doorway, Roxas cocked an eyebrow. “Do you know how much I—my mom worried about you? She was scared shitless, you idiot,” stated the blonde, reaching forward only to tug the cigarette out of Axel’s lips. Standing there with his lips pursed, Axel looked a little stupid, but he quickly changed his expression into his usual façade of neutrality.
Taking a deep drag, Roxas muttered; “And she wants us to go Christmas shopping. With Selphie. So, if you’re feeling as sick as I do, it’s not gonna be fun.” The red head shrugged, turning on one heel and swaggering into the house.
Snorting, the blonde boy whipped the smoke into the snow, and followed his ‘friend’ back into the house. “You’re such an idiot,” grumbled the blonde, not even sparing a hello to his questioning mother. Tia frowned (she smelled cigarette smoke, of course, only to attribute it to Axel), and opened her mouth to speak.
“Okay, guys. Axel, as soon as you get cleaned up, we’ll head out. Roxas, you need to buy for your friends, and have you bought Olette anything yet? That girl deserves something special this Christmas, be a good boyfriend,” said Tia, locating her purse. Selphie bounced on her heels, grinning up at her older brother.
However, Roxas certainly wasn’t smiling back. The mere mention of his ex-girlfriend sent a shiver down his spine. He really, really didn’t want to think about her, or how positively alone he felt. And it’s Christmas, for fuck’s sakes. He reminded himself that he needed to tell his mother about the breakup. Maybe she’d have some sort of remedy for the loneliness. Naminé slipped down the stairs, wearing her favorite white sweater, smiling for a moment as she caught Roxas’s sad eyes.
Shrugging again, Axel headed up the stairs. He was one of those kind of guys who could shower and be ready in a few seconds. It wasn’t much later that Selphie was wrapped in her coat, and they were all getting into the car, Roxas’s movements more lethargic than usual. His head was still pounding.
“So I’m going to drop you guys off, then. I have to go pick your father up at the airport,” she announced. Kurt usually came home a little bit earlier for the holidays, but working for Prime Minister Loire was no easy job. The man was a complete scatterbrain, really. “Roxas, Naminé, help Selphie pick him out something nice. I’ll give you some money for her.”
The blonde nodded, leaning his head against the cool car window. He didn’t really want to go anywhere. Axel just looked numb, sitting there in the backseat with Selphie speaking gibberish into his ear. She looked like a snowman, all bundled up in a coat, mittens and a scarf. He just looked like a scarecrow.
Tia dropped them off at the front entrance. Waving her goodbyes, she drove off, telling everyone to keep watch of Selphie. Axel stood there, Selphie’s hand held in his, and finally let his eyes drop over to Roxas. “Where should we go first?” he mumbled, brain processing rather slowly.
“It’s one of the biggest malls in the world. We can go anywhere,” said Naminé, pushing open the door. Selphie bounced right in, eager to go to a toy store, or maybe to sit on Santa’s lap. Naminé, scared for the girl’s well-being, walked quickly after her, letting the door fall on Axel.
Dodging past a few confused elderly people, Selphie proclaimed; “I wanna see Sora!” Axel dragged himself behind her, stumbling every few steps. Roxas edged up to him, elbowing him in the side.
“You still high?”
Axel shook his head. “…Not really. I had some Tylenol. Fucking horrible headache.” He paused, catching Selphie’s hand in his, as the girl stared in awe at a Christmassy display. He didn’t want her running astray – there were a lot of awful people out there who’d do all sorts of things to an innocent little girl.
Licking his cracked lips, Roxas sighed. “That’s good, I guess.” Abruptly, Selphie extended her chubby little arms, pointing towards the display she’d been observing.
“Train!” she shrieked, happily. “I want it, Roxas, I want!” Tugging her arm free of Axel’s weak grip, she tore off towards the store, Naminé stumbling after her, calling her name in a bad attempt to make her return.
Laughing at his sister’s enthusiasm, Roxas shoved his hands into his pockets. “I remember when I used to do that kind of thing,” he said, to no one in particular. Axel turned his head, dull green eyes fixed on Roxas’s tiny smile.
“So you were greedy like that?” he asked. Kids weren’t really greedy – they didn’t understand the concept of fair trade. After all, they were born into the world, taking whatever they wanted, never returning anything but perhaps the simple joy of being someone’s child.
Roxas sighed. “Yeah, I guess I was. Maybe that’s why my parents got rid of me,” said the blonde, pushing past people to get into the doorway that Selphie and Naminé had ducked through.
“Is that what happened? Funny, I thought maybe they’d died,” said Axel, with a shrug. He trained his eyes on a little glass bauble, vision going fuzzy after a moment. “Who’d want to get rid of a kid like you, anyway?”
Picking up a stuffed bear (one Naminé said she’d liked, before), Roxas said; “My mom. She weren’t all that ready for me. Teen mother, and stuff.” Looking at the floor, trying not to get shoved by other people, Roxas swallowed thickly. Thinking about that kind of thing around the holidays was a hard thing to do.
“So she just gave you up. Just like that?” Axel glanced over his shoulder, looking at the back of the blonde’s head. “Mothers are a waste of skin.”
Roxas shook his head. “Not all of them.” Glancing at the bear’s price tag, and then around the store to make sure Naminé wasn’t in the general area, Roxas edged his way up to the till. “Just the general majority.”
Axel advanced with him. “What the f—what are you talking about. All of them are. Give me an example of one good mother that isn’t Tia, because she’s like Mother Theresa or something.”
Setting the bear down on the counter, and fishing in his pocket for his wallet, Roxas sighed; “Your mom. She was good. You were just a screw up.” Handing the cashier some money, the blonde presented Axel with a cynical look. The red head didn’t even bother looking up.
“I just don’t feel like you deserve anything.”
“Oh fuck you.” Slamming the gift he’d bought for him down onto the table, Axel stormed off, leaving the other man to wonder why Axel had gotten him anything at all. “Merry fucking Christmas.”
Hefting his, Naminé’s and Selphie’s bags combined, Roxas could barely get through the crowd. Axel just shoved people out of the way, making something of a path for the other boy. Roxas stopped, however, when he ran into a familiar face. “Donald—” He was cut off by a rushing man with sharp elbows, “—agh, I hate the holiday season.”
The short, white haired man snorted. “If I had my way, there would be no holidays at all,” he squawked, bizarre accent masking almost everything he said. Roxas could barely understand him, when they’d first met, but it was getting easier every time.
Donald was budged forward by a friendly slap on the back. “Gosh, Donald! You’re gettin’ to be more like your uncle every day!” chortled a friendly voice. Hubert Goof was his name, which was something rather horrible to be named in that day and age. Most people just called him ‘Goofy’, because of his bizarre looks and his generally happy outlook on life. Roxas didn’t know a person who disliked him. “Sora’s here, somm’ere. Think he’s workin’ the register. He’s real busy! We all are!”
Roxas forced a smile. “No kidding,” he said, with a little bit of uncomfortable laughter. The two older men had owned the store for a little over a decade, now. Needless to say, the store was never empty – and they always held the strangest pets.
Snapping his suspenders, Goofy glanced over his shoulder. “Seems like Selphie likes cats,” he said, before wandering the other way. Goofy did not like cats. Donald gave a little wave and a grumble before skittering off to help his own customers, leaving Roxas trapped between Axel and a boa constrictor.
He red head watched Selphie for a moment. “So, what’s her story anyway? How did she wind up with Tia?” he inquired, voice gentle, deliberate. He wasn’t his usual threatening self, which was something that Roxas was glad for.
Roxas didn’t know if he was really supposed to be telling Axel, but it didn’t really seem all that harmful. Besides, Axel had been in the house long enough – he should know a little bit more about the girl he babysat. “Selphie’s parents were killed in a car crash.”
“Sucks.” Axel’s answer was blunt, but he didn’t really care. “What about Naminé?” At this, Roxas froze. He didn’t like talking about Naminé’s house, or her parents, especially when the girl was nearby.
“She’ll tell you if she wants to,” he muttered, pretending to look at a calendar. December the 22nd. Not long now. Part of him was dreading Christmas. Once it was over, depression usually set in – post holiday blues, and whatnot. And he wouldn’t even have Olette to help him get through them, anymore.
His hands tightened around the handles of the bags. There wouldn’t be any more Olette to get drunk with him on New Years, no Olette to haul him around for shopping sales on boxing day, no Olette to drink hot chocolate with on a cold winter night, no Olette to – “I hate Christmas.”
Snapping out of his reverie, Roxas inclined his head towards Axel. “Why?” he asked, wondering why anyone could hate Christmas itself.
Axel shrugged. “Because I can’t get what I want anymore,” he said. Roxas snorted – of course, he didn’t live with his doting mommy dearest anymore. He couldn’t get the expensive things that he wanted. Roxas was used to having sub-standard Christmas gifts, but he didn’t really care. After all, it was the thought that counted. He wasn’t that materialistic, anyway.
“What do you want the most?” asked Axel. “For Christmas, I mean.”
Roxas had to think for a moment. Olette. I want Olette. “I want you to get clean. That’s what I want for Christmas.”
Axel actually laughed. His voice cracked, and he broke out into a coughing fit, but he did laugh. “You’re gonna be awful unhappy this Christmas, Roxas.”
Due to the fact that there wasn’t all that much room, Selphie took up a perch on Axel’s lap, giggling about how he couldn’t know what she got him for Christmas. She had a strange way of dropping obvious hints, teasing him and saying; ‘Oh, you’re so silly, Axel, not knowin’ what I’m getting’ ya, ‘cause it’s so oblivious!’ Of course she meant to say obvious, but Selphie’s little brain tended to switch words around.
When they were home, Roxas stuck around to converse with his father, and the rest of his family for a while. Axel disappeared upstairs, seemingly not wanting to bother anyone. After about an hour, Roxas disappeared up into the room, as well. The guy was sure acting strange.
Axel was sitting on the bed when Roxas pushed the door open. He jumped, spinning around quickly, almost scared. “Fuck, man, knock first,” he grumbled, throwing a roll of scotch tape at the blonde.
“What are you doing?” inquired Roxas, blinking. Axel took a moment to glare, before shoving something under the bed.
“What the fuck does it look like? I’m wrapping presents, moron,” grumbled the red head. Roxas stood there, slightly amazed. When… he bought Christmas presents? His left hand twitched a little – he honestly didn’t expect Axel to do that. More importantly, where did he get the cash?
Slipping onto the bed beside Axel, the blonde peered over his friend’s shoulder. “Who’s that for?” he murmured, staring down at the odd little box. He was curious – it was already covered, but still needed to be wrapped.
“It’s for Selphie. It’s a model train, y’know, one of those ones you have to paint,” stated Axel, rolling his eyes. Snatching the tape back from Roxas, he pushed a roll of wrapping paper into the blonde’s arms. “You can help me. I’ve already got your shit wrapped, and all I have left to do is the rest of Selphie’s and Tia’s.”
Roxas felt his heart sink a little. Axel really wasn’t a bad guy. He was proving it more every damn day, and it made him feel guilty for judging him. After all, it probably wasn’t Axel’s fault he’d turned out the way he did. Demyx had pushed him into it, hadn’t he?
In his little mental adventure, Roxas had completely forgotten that Axel was asking him to roll out some of the paper. As an almost second thought, he shifted on the mattress, rolling out a sufficient amount for the package. “I hate wrapping presents. I suck at it,” said Axel, shaking his head. He did indeed suck – his hands were shakily pulling the paper over the box, and he fumbled the tape and got it tangled in his hands.
“Here, let me,” said Roxas, taking the abused tape from Axel’s spindly fingers. The two worked in silence, for a while, and they were finished wrapping all of the presents within a half hour.
Swallowing thickly as Axel shoved the now wrapped presents back into a plastic bag, which he’d hidden under Roxas’s bed all along, Roxas searched for something to say. “You bought the wrapping paper, too? That’s pretty gay.”
Axel clicked his tongue. “Yeah, well, I didn’t want to steal any of Tia’s. She needs enough to wrap presents for the entire Salvation Army, with all of the shit she gives you guys.”
Pulling at a loose thread on the sleeve of his sweater, Roxas said; “Some of those are for you, you know.” Oddly, the silence that happened after his words was… comfortable. Axel just laid back with his arm sprawled over his eyes like the light was injuring him somehow. “When did you buy all of these, anyway?”
“Most of them this morning, before I got here, but I’ve been picking stuff up from time to time. Originally, I was just gonna get something for Selphie and maybe Naminé because they’re a hell of a lot less pig-headed than you.” Roxas laughed, shaking his head. He’d gotten Axel something, in the long run, as well; mostly chocolate and candy, because the guy really needed to gain weight. For a moment, Roxas wondered who in the hell had taken Axel shopping, but it was simply a passing thought. “But yeah, I got you something. Not telling you what though.”
Crawling forward so that he was kneeling just to the side of the red head’s relaxed form, Roxas glared down at the red head. “Oh yeah? What if I guess.”
“Nah, you won’t guess,” said Axel, raising one hand to poke the blonde in the stomach. It was kind of strange, the two of them acting like friends. Roxas wasn’t even sure that he could ever get used to it. It was just one of those things that happened. Unavoidable, really. “Oh, and I’m leaving tonight. I’ll be back in the morning.”
The lighthearted mood dissipated rather quickly. “Where? To go get high with… Marluxia or whatever his name is?” sneered the blonde, edging his way off of the bed.
“Yeah. Early Christmas present,” said Axel, getting up onto his elbows. “Why you so hostile all of a sudden?” He cocked his head, giving a soft sigh at Roxas’s noise of disapproval.
“Because. It’s only a few days until Christmas, and you’d rather go get whacked out on shit for no reason?” The blonde’s voice had risen an octave – he was in obvious distress. Sitting back up, Axel pulled him into a hug, something that didn’t really happen… ever.
“Last time until Christmas. I swear. Then you can deal with me for when I start going through withdrawals. It’s not a pretty picture, believe me.” The blonde pushed Axel away, feeling considerably worse for wear.
“It’s probably not any harder than dealing with you when you’re high.” Roxas flicked Axel on the forehead, and left his bedroom. He was pissed at Axel, to say the least. He still couldn’t get over the idea that Axel was going to Marluxia for drugs. They probably had sex, too.
For some reason, Roxas got angrier thinking about that.
Scratching the back of his head, Roxas mused that he was probably high, and didn’t want to bother him. No, that was too nice for Axel to do. Pulling himself out from under the covers, he quickly made his way over to the bedroom door, crossing the hallway into the bathroom. He actually bothered with knocking, this time around. Instead of getting an answer, though, he got the distinct sound of something thumping against the ground, accompanied by weak little noises.
“…Axel?” murmured the blonde, pressing his ear to the door. He didn’t hear any moving, so he curled his hand around the doorknob, turning it slightly. It wasn’t locked – he just pushed his way in.
He damn near fell down when he saw what was before him. Axel was leaning over the counter, with a pair of scissors in his left hand, digging the blade into the skin on his right arm. The blood was dripping into the sink liberally; his eyes were practically quaking in their sockets.
He wanted to scream at Axel. He had no idea that he was masochistic or anything. “…What are you doing,” he whispered, his voice deathly silent, even to him.
Neck twitching over to him, Axel’s teeth chattered together, before he could even form a proper word. “B-bugs in m-m-my skin.” He dug the scissors in again, apparently numb to the pain, only wanting to get those invisible little insects away.
Roxas was frozen. Utterly frozen. He knew he’d learned about this sort of thing in a health class once (or was it science?), but seeing it for real was the strangest experience of his life. Coke bugs – a sort of a hallucination of insects crawling in someone’s flesh. He didn’t really think it actually happened like this.
Time seemed to go in slow-motion, Roxas not knowing what to do, and Axel too busy picking away his skin to notice. The counter top was smeared red, the white sink spattered as well. He’d really made a mess of himself. Roxas winced as the scissors snipped again.
Time was sent spiraling back into full motion again. “Axel, put the scissors down,” he immediately demanded, mouth suddenly dry, hands shaking only a little bit less than Axel’s. He took one step forward, and Axel jerked away, paranoid eyes leering at Roxas’s face.
Reaching a hand forward, Roxas tentatively placed his arms on Axel’s upper arm. The older boy pulled away instinctively, whimpering lowly in his throat. Gently, Roxas freed the death-grip that Axel had around the handle of the – Selphie’s, actually – scissors. They were purple. Well, they had been.
Disgusted, Roxas let the scissors fall into the sink. Suddenly loving his mother for buying dark green towels, the blonde snatched a wash cloth off of the towel rack. “You’re a fucking moron,” he muttered, sticking the cloth under the tap, pouring hot water onto it. He didn’t even know what kind of shit had been on the scissors – he really didn’t want Axel’s arm getting infected.
Wringing out the cloth, Roxas pressed it onto the injured area. “Put some pressure on it,” he demanded, panic building up in his chest when Axel did nothing but stand there. He wanted to raise his voice. He almost did, but then he realized it was 1 in the fucking morning. “Just do it! Please, Goddamnit, you have to help—”
“God, Roxas, help me, they’re f-fuckin’ eating my sk-skin,” sobbed Axel, pushing the cloth off of his arm to scratch fiercely at the open wounds once more. Roxas’s hand snapped out, catching Axel’s good arm, and holding on tight to it.
He knew he needed disinfectant. Hell if he knew what to use, though. Tia kept her drawers and shelves full of that kind of thing, but there were so many different types, and his brain was on full panic mode – he didn’t know what to pick. With Axel gibbering in his ear about bugs, it wasn’t really helping all that much either.
Abruptly, there was knocking on the door. “Roxas… honey, is that you?” Tia, of course. All of the water running had probably woken her up. Roxas stiffened, before clamping his free hand over Axel’s mouth.
“Y-yeah,” croaked the blonde. “It’s just me. I c-couldn’t sleep, so I’m… yeah.” Tia didn’t answer for a moment, Roxas’s heart hammering in his chest as the seconds passed.
She didn’t sound convinced. “All right. But… if there’s a problem… don’t be afraid to ask…” With that, she trailed off, most likely disappearing back into the bedroom. It didn’t sound like she wanted to leave, but Roxas couldn’t handle her motherly care right now. Dropping his hand from Axel’s drooling mouth, Roxas finally and quickly chose a disinfectant at random.
Turning to Axel, he tentatively released the other’s arm. “Don’t you dare fucking pick at your arm,” he hissed, unscrewing the lid to the liquid. “This might sting, I don’t know, and I doubt that you care.” He didn’t even care that the colourless disinfectant slopped over onto the counter. He didn’t care that Axel tensed up and his eyes watered. He was guessing it was hydrogen peroxide – whatever, Axel deserved the pain.
Bandage tape and gauze pads were next. He was almost reluctant to peel the wrappers open; they almost made too much noise. Pulling the gauze out, he stared at the still bleeding trail of scissor marks on Axel’s arm. They looked deep, and probably needed a few stitches.
Biting his lower lip, Roxas applied the bandaging. He didn’t want to waste any more time watching in horror. Axel still hadn’t snapped out of his drugged-up reverie, still mumbling about bugs and how they wouldn’t go away.
Winding the last of the tape around Axel’s now-bandaged arm, Roxas let the empty roll drop to the ground. “I hate you,” he said, quietly. Axel’s fingers shivered, and he glassily stared into the bathroom mirror.
“I h-hate me too.”
Laughing in spite of himself, Roxas viciously snatched the bloodied wash cloth. The blood wasn’t going to clean itself up. He almost wondered if he’d catch AIDs or something. Then, he realized he didn’t really care anymore.
Scrubbing, he left Axel to his own thoughts (or, what was left of them), while he cleaned up the bathroom. He really had to get down onto his hands and knees for some of the blood that had dripped onto the floor. Finding tiny pieces of flesh was the worst, though.
Rinsing the cloth, Roxas felt tears well up in his eyes. It wasn’t fair. He was a teenage boy; he wasn’t supposed to be dealing with this type of shit. Dead cases like Axel were for the cops, not some foster kid who’d just lost his girlfriend.
He knew he was crying again. Not just crying, anymore. Resting his forehead against the mirror, sobbing into the red-stained sink, Roxas wondered how exactly he got so miserable.
The answer was right behind him.
“You’ve lost your fucking mind, Axel,” he sighed, letting his eyes fall closed.
Axel offered a junkie-smile; stained teeth and thin lips pulled back, eyes dull and the entire thing looking exceptionally fake. “You’re fin-finding it for me, Roxas.”
Pulling himself back up, Roxas faced the older boy directly in the eye. He didn’t understand him, whatsoever. He was just a kid, just like him, and so entirely different at the same time.
“How did somebody like you turn out this way?” he asked, brushing tears off of his cheeks. Axel shrugged, then scratched at his arms some more (only to have his hands batted away by Roxas).
“I guess it was ‘cause I didn’t have som-somebody like you lookin’ out for me.” Axel leaned forward, placing his forehead against Roxas’s, staring him in the eye. Roxas could smell alcohol and pot on Axel’s breath, could see the white powder under the boy’s nose.
Roxas sighed. Axel’s eyelashes tickled his face. He felt human and inhuman, a monster, all at once. He didn’t know how to react as Axel’s lips landed on his. It didn’t feel greedy, like it had before. Axel wasn’t demanding anything, this time. It was just a kiss, just a short press of lips on lips.
Well, that was how it started, anyway.
The blonde didn’t even know why he opened his mouth. Maybe he wanted to say something. He really wasn’t even sure. But Axel kissed him again, ran his tongue against his lower lip, bit softly. It was sloppy, sure – Axel had lost a lot of blood, and he was fucking high as a kite. He tasted like blood, too.
“Roxas,” he muttered, stumbling back, almost falling. Roxas had to catch him at the last moment, and pull the taller boy up against the counter. But the dazed confusion that Axel was having didn’t stop him for more than a second. He was leaning forward again, despite his horrible balance, and sliding his tongue into Roxas’s mouth without even a second thought.
Bracing one hand against Axel’s chest, Roxas let his eyes fall shut. He didn’t know what the fuck he was doing, for the thousandth time that month. Axel was so damn different from Olette – he didn’t taste like ice cream, he had pointy tongue that was almost limp in his mouth and he didn’t let Roxas completely control almost everything. Axel could give and take, and all Olette could do was give and give and give, until there was nothing left of her.
Axel was a sinner, a saint maybe, and Roxas was the one who had him pinned against the counter. Roxas was the one with his fingers at Axel’s neck, Axel’s lower back, pulling the boy down and returning whatever affection held in an equally sloppy manner.
He pulled away, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. “I can’t believe you.”
Axel’s breath was quivering. “I want y-you.”
It was that time that Roxas decided something. He didn’t know why Axel was the way he was, nor did he know much about the red head’s bizarre past, outside of what he heard from Demyx. He didn’t know why Axel showed any desire for him whatsoever, and he didn’t know why Axel had mutilated his arm that night. He didn’t know why Axel disappeared all of the time, of if he even went to the same place. He didn’t know if Axel was fucking his drug dealer, or if he had any STDs. He didn’t know where Axel had lived for all of the years, and he didn’t know why Axel had bought him a Christmas present.
But he did know one thing: where to start.
He was going to pay a visit to Axel’s mother.
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