gin and sin
chapter fourteen

i want a lover i don't have to love
i want a boy who's so drunk he doesn't talk
where's the kid with the chemicals?
i've got a hunger and i can't seem to get full
i need some meaning i can memorize
the kind i have always seems to slip my mind

lover i don't have to love – bright eyes

Boxing day sales were the best. Olette was finding so many things among all of the people. Part of it was to take her mind off of recent events. The other reason was just that she liked shopping – especially with Pence, who had invited her to go in the first place.

She hadn't had a good day, yesterday. Christmas was spent feeling guilty about saying the things she had said to Roxas. She hadn't meant to be so… mean. She had misdirected her rage, she figured. She was more upset with that Axel boy. He'd been so pointlessly rude to her.

With a sigh, she set down a sweater she'd been looking at. Pence just gave her one of those big smiles he gave so well, and walked back over to her side. "Want to go to Starbucks? You look like you need a pick-me-up."

Olette smiled a weak smile. "Not really. I don't want anything with caffeine. I've been cutting back on it." All it did was keep her up for hours, and make her a little bit more moody. She felt like she didn't need it anymore.

Patting her lightly on the back, Pence picked out the good parts of this conversation. "You cut back on caffeine when you stopped dating Roxas, right? And you don't smoke weed anymore, right? So look at the good side. You bettered yourself after breaking up with him!"

"Yeah, but that doesn't make me feel any less bad about being so mean to him," she said, blinking large, watery green eyes. Thinking about it made her upset. "I want to apologize. It wasn't fair of me to freak out like that."

Pence shrugged. "Everybody does it sometimes. I mean, I'd probably do the same thing, if put in that situation. It was pretty low of Roxas to not tell you what was going on." While he liked all of his friends, he didn't quite approve of Roxas' secret double life right now.

Olette picked up a blue-coloured shirt, looking it over somewhat before deciding that the colour wouldn't be good on her. She was in a bad mood – bad moods tended to make her feel bad about herself. She hadn't really bought anything.

"I'm going to phone him. And tell him that I'm sorry, and that I still want to be friends," Olette ultimately decided. She wasn't some crotchety old hag who'd hate her past lovers for years and years. She liked Roxas well enough. Maybe being friends would be good. Then again, she knew that her ex-boyfriend held grudges. But they broke up over a month ago. Wasn't that enough time?

Customers bustled by, almost fighting over the clothes. The prices were relatively low. Then again, it was just Old Navy.

They left the store fast enough, being pushed and pulled right and left. West Edmonton Mall on Boxing Day was always an adventure. The lines were long, the customers were angry, and the workers were exhausted. In reality, Olette wouldn't have bothered going out on a busy day like this. But Pence had invited her. She'd found herself hanging out with him a lot more, now. And Hayner as well, but Hayner worked almost every day over the holidays.

They sat down on one of the benches, just to watch people go by. Almost everyone was on cell phones, gabbing with Robert or Lisa or whoever they happened to be talking to. For a place so filled with people, it wasn't like anybody was really there. Not really.

Pence turned to Olette. "What do you want to do? Any particular place you want to go?" Always a gentleman, he made sure that she wasn't bored, or overly tired, or all that upset. She looked a little like she'd prefer to be at home, sobbing her eyes out over a bag of Oreos.

"I don't know, right now. Sitting here is nice," she murmured, turning her head to show him a smile. Show him that she wasn't hurting. She was genuinely enjoying her time with her as-of-now best friend. She enjoyed spending time with him.

So they watched the world go by. People were really quite pointless.

Knocking at his door. At… what was it, two in the morning? Squall blearily opened one eye, sitting up in his bed. Who the hell knocked on somebody's door this early?

Getting out of bed, he ran a hand through his hair, walking his way blindly to the front door of his apartment. He fumbled with the locks on the door, before opening it, finding him face-first with his old rival. "Hey, Leonhartless. So you live in Cracktown, now? Fitting."

Squall had half a mind to slam the door back in his face. "How the hell did you get my address?" The blonde smirked, shouldering through the doorway before Squall could even object. Almost slamming the door behind him, Squall flicked on the light switch, for the sake of knowing where the hell his feet were going.

The blonde took one good look at him. Squall glared, wanting an answer. Seifer reached out, prodded his face, flicked the piercing under his eye. "Why the fuck did you get these? They look stupid."

Tempted to bark back 'You look stupid,' Squall just planted his hands on his hips. "Seifer, answer me. How did you get my address?" He was living in Cracktown for a reason – so that nobody could find him.

"It was easy, Squally. You didn't go to much trouble to being hidden," he said, with a snort. Actually, he'd just looked in the various databases. Easy shit, right there. "Aren't you gonna offer me something to drink? You're a horrible host."

Squall wasn't going to offer him something to drink. He wasn't in any way going to make Seifer feel welcome. He was going to stand there, glaring up at the blonde, wishing he was tall enough to stare him down.

But Seifer was never the kind of person to beat around the bush. He wanted answers, and he wanted them immediately. But how to get into it? If Squall was the same person he'd been all those years ago, seizing up at any mention of whatever he didn't want to hear, going silent whenever the time called for it. If Seifer asked anything the wrong way, Squall was bound to just go quiet.

Knowing the brunette (well, the brunette from… however many years ago) better than anyone else, Seifer knew the only way to get him to do much more than speak one word was to piss him off.

Seifer was especially good at that.

"So, Puberty Boy. I knew you liked to suck cock, but getting paid for it? Smart." Squall went pale as a sheet for a moment, before outright punching Seifer in the face. The blonde was momentarily stupefied, lip bleeding, wondering what the fuck had just happened. Even at his angriest, Squall didn't hit people. Maybe he'd changed a lot.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Squall turned on his heel and stormed away. He wasn't going to let Seifer play him like that! He got enough of that mind-fucking from Marluxia.

Seifer followed him, wiping the blood on his lip. "So I'm assuming you like being some old fuck's little whore. You like it up the ass, Squall? I always figured." Squall just kept walking away, ignoring him, trying to shove down the urge to just grab a knife and throw it at the idiotic blonde.

Into the kitchen. Shit. Squall had subconsciously cornered himself. He still wouldn't turn to face Seifer, give him the satisfaction of knowing that he'd pissed him off so badly he wanted to grab the nearest thing and slam it down on his rival's arrogant head.

"Hey, I have some cash on me? Feel like sucking my cock? I'll make sure to come all over your ugly fucking face." He was just goading him, trying to get a real reaction, maybe get the brunette to push him or hit him again, like he'd done that singular time when he found out that Seifer had fucked his girlfriend. All the way back in high school.

But Squall just sighed. "Stop pretending like you know anything about me, because you don't, Seifer." He leaned heavily against the kitchen counter, wanting more than anything for this conversation to end. He was shaking with barely contained rage, but he wouldn't act on it. "Just leave."

Seifer had a hand on his shoulder, spinning around, pinning him to the counter. Seifer knew how to get answers out of people. He was a bit of a bad cop when it came down to it, but he always got the job done. Always.

He jerked the brunette's head up, feeling the smaller man struggle against him. Looked him dead in the eyes, for any signs of, well, anything. "You don't look like a typical coke whore, so I'm guessing you're not doing it for drugs. And if there's anything I know about you, it's that you're too proud to be somebody's fuck toy." Jade eyes narrowed, and he pulled away from Squall, leaving the brunette slightly confused. "What do they have on you?"

Squall didn't answer, for a moment. The words were trapped behind his teeth. He didn't want to tell Seifer his fucking life story. And really, Seifer didn't want to hear it all that much. He was too busy gloating about how his life had turned out so much better than Squall's.

"Seifer, you really have to go. I work in the morning," said Squall, crossing his arms. The blonde noticed that Squall had quite a bit more muscle on him that he had in high-school. Was probably expected. Puberty Boy had always been jealous of his physique. Not really. He snorted.

"You whore in the mornings, too? Busy guy, aren't you."

Squall scoffed. "No, you idiot, I have a real job besides that." He declined to mention that he wasn't getting paid for his 'services'. Marluxia was really a dick that way.

Making a mental note to find out where his pretty-boy rival was working, Seifer turned around, surveying the kitchen. He went for the fridge without asking. He wanted something to drink, dammit, and Squall was not the kind of person to stop him. "Jesus, Puberty Boy, how can you just survive on… beer and bottled water?" And leftover Chinese food. Huh.

Squall didn't say that he wasn't home often enough to eat there. He just came to sleep. Really, this had been one of his rare nights away from Marluxia's, where he could actually get the sleep he needed by taking some pills and dragging himself to bed. And Seifer had gone and wrecked that for him.

Seifer stole a bottle of beer. Bastard. Squall frowned, letting his arms go slack against his sides for a moment. "Why can't you just leave?" he asked, as Seifer searched all of his drawers for a bottle opener. Squall pulled away from the counter, opened the drawer he'd been sitting over, and presented Seifer with one. For wanting the other to leave so badly, he wasn't doing much to help himself.

Once opened, Seifer took a long drink of his beer. Squall just frowned. Time to change the subject. "So, you have a kid now." Seifer nodded. He wasn't used to Squall attempting to hold a conversation, but he was guessing it was just because he didn't want to talk about his own problems.

"Yeah. Like I said before, Rinoa popped her out." Squall frowned, still not quite used to the way that Seifer talked. He'd always been vulgar, but after not hearing from him in a few years, it threw him off just a little bit.

Squall leaned back against the counters, running a hand through his hair. It was sticking up in all different directions from his sleep. He tried to flatten it down. Didn't work too well. "Oh. That's pleasant. How is she, anyway?" He hadn't talked to her since that awful breakup at the end of high school.

"Dead," replied Seifer, without a hint of remorse. "Giving birth to my kid." Squall went quiet, staring Seifer straight in the face. Well, that was fucked up. "Christ, Leonhart, pay attention to the people you used to call friends."

"I don't talk to any of them anymore," said Squall, with a shrug. He'd lost contact with everyone he used to feel remotely comfortable with. Mostly because he'd stopped feeling comfortable with them.

Seifer raised an eyebrow. "Do you even have friends? Outside of the people who fuck you, that is?" Squall gave him a dirty look, before breaking said dirty look with a pitiful little yawn. He was exhausted.

But Squall didn't give him a straight answer. Instead, he went back to his living room, deciding to curl up in a little ball in the corner of the couch. Seifer joined him, despite the brunette's obvious look of dissatisfaction. The light from the kitchen cast an almost ethereal glow over the Squall's pale skin. His piercings glinted in the light.

"So, what's with the metal-face, anyway?" asked Seifer, sipping his beer. He was a little curious about the whole thing. He remembered back in high-school about the boy's obvious distaste towards them.

Keeping that typical scowl on his face, Squall thought back to the exact moment he'd got the needle shoved into his face. He'd initially only had one, getting the other one a while later. Because Marluxia had told him to. Said they were a sort of a mark of ownership, or some bullshit. Whatever.

Seifer crossed his ankles. "So, I'm thinking I'm not going to be getting any answers out of you. Typical Ice Princess." Squall rolled his eyes, entirely used to the blonde's mockery.

"Why don't you just leave already?" said Squall, pulling his knees up to his chest. "Honestly, you know what you want to know. I'm a prostitute. Go on and laugh about it."

For a rare moment, Seifer was quiet. And then he gave the brunette a curious look. "Something about you has really changed. The Squall that I knew fuck number of years ago would never do something so degrading."

"You didn't know me then. You don't know me, now," said Squall.

Seifer snorted. "I want to, Squall." Well, only kind of. More like he wanted to know where the guy he was working for lived. So he could arrest him. So he could fuck him up so hard for turning underage kids into tricks.

Squall only looked back at him for a moment. "Call me Leon."

Roxas was vaguely aware that the phone was ringing. But he wasn't really paying attention. Naminé was, however, and got up to go answer the telephone.

At this point, Roxas wasn't really sure where Axel had gone off to. He hadn't left a note or anything, but the blonde assumed Demyx or maybe Marluxia. He knew that he should be caring more about it, but really, after how the red head had acted for the past while, he just wasn't worth pursuing anymore.

But really, part of him wanted to know more. Being a teenage boy, he was curious, and being the person he was, he still wanted to help. But friendship, maybe, was all he wanted. And if Axel was interested in him sexually? Well, maybe friends with benefits wasn't bad, either. Or maybe just –with benefits.

Naminé offered him the phone. "It's Olette," she said. Roxas stared at the telephone, as if it had grown a head. He didn't want to talk to his ex-girlfriend after what'd happened on Christmas Day.

When he didn't take it, Naminé shook the phone near his face. "Come on, Roxas, please take it! It's rude to just leave her there," she whispered. Tentatively, Roxas curled his fingers around the plastic, clamping his hand over the mouthpiece so he could take the call upstairs.

He sat down on his bed. Crossed his legs. Took a deep breath, and then put the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

Roxas could hear Olette's little sound of surprise on the other end. "I was beginning to think you'd hung up on me," she said, quietly, deliberately. "Thank you for… you know, wanting to hear me out."

"What is it?" he asked, tone clipped. He tried not to sound too emotional. Talking to her hurt, even though he'd never admit it. He wasn't over her, really, and with her showing up the day before, it just multiplied the pain.

"I just felt like we needed to talk. Just the two of us, without Axel around, or whatever his name was," Olette murmured, her voice soothing despite how Roxas felt about her.

He paused. "Yeah, I guess so." There was an empty silence between them, then, neither teenager willing to voice his or her feelings just quite yet. He listened to her breathing. It hitched a little every so often. He hoped she didn't start crying.

"Um…" Olette looked for the right words. She didn't want to hurt him anymore. That was never her goal. "I just… I'm sorry. For what happened on Christmas. I lost my temper, and I got angry and… yeah."

"It's okay," he said, quietly. There wasn't anything else to say. Everyone lost their temper at one point or another. Roxas more so than she ever did, but he didn't want to admit that to her right now.

Olette could be heard sighing heavily. "I just want us to be good, okay? I want to be friends again, and to just forget all of this stuff. Because I didn't mean what I said," Olette said, quietly. She waited for him to say something, for a while. But she couldn't hear anything.

"But I still love you." His voice cracked horribly, and he covered his lips with his hand as soon as the words came out, trying to pull them back into his mouth. Oh fuck. Oh fuck, oh fuck. He hadn't wanted to say that, he hadn't wanted that at all. "W-wait—I—"

There was an awkward silence, the air between them pregnant and tense. "…Roxas, I…"

He shook his head, keeping his hand over his mouth, feeling tears on his cheeks. He couldn't handle this. He didn't want to deal with his emotions. It hurt. It hurt so badly.

Olette was crying audibly, now, as well. "I'm sorry, but I don't feel the same anymore." It was perhaps one of the worst moments of his life. Or, at least, it felt like it. The floodgate was opened, and he was sobbing harshly, now, unbridled. He wanted her to feel his anguish through the telephone wires.

"I'm so sorry, Roxas. I'm so sorry," whispered Olette, before she hung up on him. There was nothing more she could do. She couldn't keep trying to solve his problems, anymore. And right now, she was the problem. He'd find the solution on his own.

He listened to the empty line for a while, before finally ending the call, and throwing the phone onto his floor. He knew it was horribly immature, but he didn't care. He was crying and it hurt and he couldn't bring himself to do anything other than wallow in his own self-pity.

He wasn't really sure what time it was that Axel came into the room, looking more tired than high, for the first time in the last few days. Roxas pretended to be sleeping. He didn't want Axel to know that he'd been crying for probably the last few hours.

But Axel's hand was on his shoulder, and the red head flipped him over onto his back. "Hey. What's wrong?" he asked, face harsh. He wasn't asking because he was worried – he was probably just curious as to why his bedmate was lying face-down on his bed, sniffling like a little kid. "Don't be such a pussy, Roxas."

"If you're just going to make fun of me, then fuck off," spat Roxas, rolling onto his side, facing the wall. Axel sat down on the bed, waiting for Roxas to tell him what'd happened. He wasn't going to guess.

Leaning his head back, Axel cast a glance over to Roxas' body. "You want a blow job? That always makes me feel better." The blonde snorted, pulling himself up into a seated position. He didn't face Axel, roughly wiping his eyes with his hands.

"You don't even care. Why would I tell you anything?"

Axel shrugged. "Dunno. Assumed you might wanna talk about it." He was about to get off of the bed, maybe go downstairs, but Roxas' hand stopped him, gripping his skinny wrist with shaking fingers.

He turned back. Roxas just looked at him with a faltering, quivering expression. "Just wait…" said the blonde. He wanted to connect with Axel, really, he did. And he also kind of wanted someone to talk to. Of course, between two guys like them, it probably wouldn't work out that well. Axel was good with people, right? Well, kind of. He could probably smuggle drugs and money out of people, if he so wanted.

Axel crossed his legs, moving closer to Roxas on the bed. "So talk." He didn't really have any patience for this kind of thing. He hated it when people expected him to miraculously understand what was going on in their heads.

"Olette called." Roxas pulled at his hair, irately, before slumping back onto the bed. Axel joined him, slumping right on top of the blonde. Roxas frowned, but didn't push him away.

Fingers just barely brushing the blonde's stomach, Axel flicked his eyes up to Roxas' face. "I'm assuming that didn't go very well?" He snuck his hand up the blonde's shirt, watching his face. He didn't protest.

Roxas didn't talk. So Axel slid off the blonde's shirt. Mechanically, he raised his arms up, letting him take it off. Axel raised an eyebrow. "What's up with you, today? You'd never let me do this normally," said the red head, frowning. "You finally lightening up?"

"I just don't care. Drop it, Axel, and I'll let you suck my dick." To this, the older boy snorted, leaning in to kiss the blonde. It was slack, utterly unsentimental, and nothing of what Roxas actually wanted. Axel's lips were like barbed wire against his own. He could feel them cutting in. Cigarettes and puke. And Kool-Aid, too.

"Are you serious about the blow-job thing?" asked Axel, cupping the blonde's cock through his pants. Roxas visibly wilted away, but he didn't protest. "Or… are you just fucking with me?"

A hint of Roxas' usual cynicism appeared. "No blow-job. I don't want your goddamn mouth herpes." Axel's grin was razor sharp, at this.

"You're inferring that I can at least give you a hand-job?"

Again, Roxas didn't protest. He didn't say anything when Axel worked down his zipper, and pushed away the material of his boxers. But he stopped, abruptly. "Something is really fucked with you. You'd never let me do this, normally," he said, raising one skinny eyebrow.

"And normally you'd never ask questions," said Roxas, eyes harsh, "so just fucking do it, Axel." The red head rolled his eyes, wrapping his long fingers around Roxas' cock. It was still semi-flaccid, but he was never the kind of guy to leave it that way for too long. Stroking slowly, he kept his eyes connected to Roxas'. He supposed he should feel more exhilarated about finally getting into the blonde's pants, but hell, it was just a hand-job. He gave these for five bucks when he was thirteen, for fuck's sake.

Roxas' breathing changed a little. He didn't do anything to help Axel out, instead glaring at him like he was doing something wrong. And of course he was. He had his hand on the guy's cock, after all. But it wasn't like Axel cared. It was just sex. It was something he'd practiced and was good at.

"Sure you don't want me to use my mouth?" said Axel, dryly. His hands certainly weren't the best thing to fuck. Dry, cracked skin, skinny fingers, the whole shebang. Roxas glared.

"No. Like I said, don't want your mouth herpes," said Roxas, voice a little lower than usual. Axel snorted, continuing his motions despite the blonde's obvious hostility. It all felt a little surreal.

Just to spite the blonde he pulled back, licking his hand for some hackneyed sort of lubrication. Back around his cock. Roxas' breathing hitched a little.

But they'd been heading down this path for a long time. Yesterday, high and alone and so close to what they were doing right this second. It was less special than it should've been, dirty and unsympathetic with Axel's eyes fixed on his face.

"Faster," requested Roxas, quietly. Axel obliged, easily figuring out the patterns of Roxas' body. It wasn't hard to learn. He'd had him memorized from the first time they kissed. Well, the first time they kissed sober, at least.

Still not quite understanding why he was here, or why he was doing this, Axel used his other hand to push away some more of the material. Roxas didn't help out, any, ass practically glued to the bed – he wanted this, and he didn't. He still wasn't quite sure.

Muttering under his breath that he should be using his mouth for this, Axel was quickly shut up as Roxas moaned quietly, before sticking his fingers in his mouth to muffle any noises. Naminé was right outside the room. Axel almost laughed.

The sound of Roxas moving his hips was louder, to him, than Naminé talking outside the door. Sora, can you come help me with something? Roxas' eyes were closed, concentrating, he was now steadily fucking Axel's hand. Fear made his hips tense, more of a snap than anything else.

He only jumped when Axel's other hand moved down to cup his balls, and Axel worried the skin on his neck with his teeth. Razor teeth.

He said Olette's name around his hand when orgasm hit. He barely noticed that Axel had practically swooped down to take his twitching cock into his mouth, swallowing his semen without a second thought. He kept it in his mouth until the blonde had gone completely soft, lips wet as he pulled away.


Roxas' face went red, blue eyes wide, looking very much innocent even as he sat there with his cock out. "I…" He didn't elaborate. He paused, and recollected the little pieces of his brain and heart that had fallen out around himself during the awkward fumbling (on his part) that added up to a surprisingly lackluster hand-job. "I told you not to use your mouth."

"Didn't want a mess," said Axel, wiping the remnants of Roxas' pre-cum onto the blonde's pants. "So, do you wanna talk about it now? I'm assuming you were crying your pretty blue eyes out because of your ex, right?"

His breathing hitched. His eyes went watery, and he glanced away, then back, then away again before Axel rolled his eyes and set to tucking the blonde back into his boxers, fixing his pants up again and leaning him back against the wall. "Come on, Roxas." His tone was like that of an annoyed mother's. "Tell me."

Brushing his hair off of his sweaty forehead, Roxas searched for the right words. He couldn't very well say, 'Well, I just got called by my ex-girlfriend and I told her I still love her and then I fantasized about fucking her again for the next few hours and then got a hand-job from you'. So instead, he just said; "Olette called."

"Huh. I'm assuming that did not go well at all, did it?" said Axel, wryly. He lay back on the bed, pillowing his head behind his hands. It all felt normal. So bizarrely normal, considering what had just happened.

Roxas gave a shaky sigh. "I told her I loved her. I'm such a dumbass."

"Can't argue with that one," said Axel, flicking his eyes up to the blonde's distressed face. "But hey… if it's really bothering you, I'm probably not the guy to ask for help." At least he could admit it.

Axel placed his hand on Roxas' arm. Comforting. Reassuring the blonde, that maybe, he wasn't a total asshole. Just maybe. His hands were shaking a little, as usual, but Roxas was pretty sure he was still shaking, as well. He wanted to cry again, but he couldn't do it in front of Axel.

But when Axel squeezed his arm, just ever so slightly, fingers digging in for a fraction of a second – he's still there, he doesn't hate you – Roxas' resolve broke, and he was sobbing openly in his hands, trying to muffle the sound and let himself cry at the same time.

The red head didn't hold him. Didn't tell him everything was going to be alright. Because that isn't how life works, and that wasn't the person that Axel was. He didn't reassure people that they weren't going to die if they had terminal cancer, and he sure as hell wouldn't tell Roxas that his emotional anguish was going to just magically go away.

The sentiment sure as hell never worked for him.

But he kept his hand on Roxas' arm, stared at the ceiling and listened to the blonde's quiet sobs. He'd heard it drunk, but he'd never actually felt the emotional anguish head on, like this. It was strange to have Roxas open to him. But he didn't comment on it.

"I must look like an idiot," said Roxas, biting down on his palm. His shoulders were shaking, and his eyes were red and swollen and he looked like hell. But Axel was used to looking the same way, for all the wrong reasons.

Axel patted his arm, taking the moment to fully sit up. "Get over her, Roxas," he supplied, before stumbling to his feet. He wanted a cigarette. "You're never going to move on if you don't realize… well, she doesn't want you."

"I know," said Roxas. "I know."

Another Thursday. Christmas break was over. New Year's was gone. Axel'd gotten piss drunk and stoned and fucked on so many drugs he didn't even know who he was fucking anymore. Sure wasn't Roxas.

He'd spent New Year's at Marluxia's little whorehouse. Marluxia had told Axel that he loved him. And then they'd done shots of vodka and speedballed straight until morning. It was a real mystery why either of them hadn't died.

And now, on a Thursday, Axel was sitting in Auron's home-office, legs crossed up on his chair while Tidus or Shuyin or whoever watched the clock beside him. As soon as Auron came into the room, however, the blonde scooted off of his chair and swaggered down to the floor. "I should go, right?" he said, perkily. Tidus, obviously.

"Get out," said Auron, not antagonistically, but firmly. Tidus waved to Axel, before making his way out of the room. The older man stared at Axel, for a moment, before taking his usual seat. "You don't look healthy."

Axel snorted. "Do I ever? So, Doc, you gonna start drilling me with questions, or what?" He didn't feel like being there, right then. He wanted to go home, and maybe entice Roxas into fooling around with him. The only thing they'd really done so far was tentative mutual hand-jobs, Roxas being the hesitant one, still not really used to the idea of liking dick at all. Even with simple mutual masturbation, Roxas made Axel wear a condom – he didn't want to touch him, even though Axel insisted he was clean, and even went to a damn doctor to verify it.

"I mostly wanted to check up on how you were doing. Did you even consider what I told you last time?" No, Axel hadn't. Rehab wasn't for him. He didn't want to quit. He didn't want to put up with any religious bullshit in one of those places, anyway. Axel just gave Auron a skeptical look, fingers itching for a cigarette to play with, mouth dry and eyes tired. "Anything special you'd like to talk about?"

Yeah. About how Axel thought Auron was a shitty therapist. He wasn't helping. Then again, not many of them actually helped at all. They just sat there, asking you how you felt about shit, and they sometimes gave their bullshit comments, and then when they had nothing else to talk about, they'd give you drugs. Axel wanted the drugs, maybe.

But deciding to go along with the grave-looking man's idealisms, Axel said; "On New Year's, I got so wasted I didn't even know where I was." He shrugged one bony shoulder. It wasn't like it mattered, all that much.

"And did that make you happy? Did you get some sense of enjoyment from it?" Typical therapist questions. How did that make you feel?

"I just got drunk, Auron," said Axel, sneering. He kicked out his feet, resting them on the coffee table. "And stoned. It happens. It doesn't make me happy or mad or sad or anything."

"So then, what's the point? I'm assuming you didn't do any of this with Roxas," said Auron, scribbling something down onto his notepad, wire-framed glasses low on his nose. Axel was half convinced he was actually just doodling pictures of Tidus naked on the paper.

"I just felt like it. It was fun and easy," said the red head. Auron cocked an eyebrow at this, smirking wryly. Axel frowned. He hated it when Auron got all smart-ass like this. "What?"

"Nothing," offered Auron, still keeping that irritating smirk plastered on his rough-looking face. This guy was seriously getting on Axel's nerves, at that point.

Sitting up straighter in his chair, Axel scowled. "Bullshit."

Taking off his glasses, for the moment, Auron's eyes bored into the red head's. "It's something that bothers me. People like you make your life out to be so hard, when really, it's because you make it so. Drug addiction isn't 'fun and easy'. Even you admit that it screwed up your life. That, and the fact that you're a whore. You're just too caught up in being sorry for yourself to change things. People pay more attention to you when you're messed up, anyway."

Not entirely sure if a therapist was allowed to be telling him this, Axel stared at the older man with no expression on his face whatsoever. And then he got up out of his chair, and left.

He hated it when people didn't sugar-coat it.

School had sucked, that day. Roxas couldn't deal with confronting his ex-girlfriend, or his friends, or really, anybody. His life didn't make any sense, anymore. He didn't know what he was doing, anymore.

He'd decided to walk home, today. He needed the time to think about everything. He wanted to take the long way, but a blonde woman in a nice, new car caught his eye. Larxene? What was she doing there?

Roxas debated not approaching her. Just leaving, outright. But she rolled down the passenger window and gave him a pointed look. "Get in, Roxas." How did she find out what school he went to?

"Er, I don't think I will," he said in response. He didn't move, or start walking, yet. She didn't look upset, just mostly bored and unimpressed. Not the same woman he'd seen before. It seemed like everybody around him had masks and faces that they didn't like to show.

So, he got into the car.

Larxene wasn't a reckless driver, by any means. She drove like his mother. Cautious, safe. She'd make a good mother, really. But the father of her kid? No way. As far as Roxas was concerned, that man was the scum of the earth.

"Anyplace you want to go?" asked Larxene, glancing over to him. She had a far too innocent face. She didn't even look that old. If she hadn't been wearing so much makeup, Roxas realized that she'd probably look maybe as old as he did.

Roxas shrugged. "Not to Marluxia's. And not home, yet." Her lips quirked up into a little smile, only somewhat cynical.

"I wouldn't take you back to Marluxia. I'm not out to get you," she said, still smirking. She had a coy personality, but she genuinely liked Roxas. The kid was ambitious and far from hostile. Still a little bit innocent.

The blonde released an uneasy sigh. While he wasn't totally comfortable with this, he figured there was no harm in going on a car ride with a pregnant woman. Hell, maybe he could even get information from her. He wasn't sure.

The silence was almost comfortable. Almost. Roxas sat there, wondering what to say next. Larxene perplexed him; her face seemed soft but the curl of her lips was almost sadistic, and her eyes a sad shade of blue but almost mischievous. Despite this, he didn't feel threatened by her.

So he settled with a relatively normal question. "Why are you here?" She glanced over to him, keeping both hands on the wheel as she watched the sludge-caked road beyond her.

"Because I think you're smart. And I think, maybe, you might be willing to help me. Maybe," she said, fingers tensing around the steering wheel. Help her? With what? Roxas stared at her, blankly, for a moment as she contemplated just how to word this.

Her lips curled up into a cruel little smirk. Mischievous, almost. Roxas blinked at her, unsure of what to do. "I have an… idea," she started. Roxas didn't say anything, for a moment.

And then; "What kind of idea?" He felt like he was watching Scooby-Doo. It would've seemed more realistic if Larxene didn't have a baby-face caked with a few days worth of mascara. She was even wearing sweatpants. She didn't suit Marluxia, at all. One of the boys. One of the boys with acrylic fake nails and the beginnings of a baby belly.

"Just an idea," she said, keeping that smirk on her face.

disclaimer: don't own anything.

a/n: as you see, gin and sin has been slightly rehauled. slightly. handjobs aren't that important.