The red head brought the bottle to his lips, his green eyes staring vacantly. Through his eyes the walls of his empty apartment spun. "I love you," the blonde had said so many times and he was always drunk when he said it back. He tried to stop, but he was addicted. He couldn't stop. He was an alcoholic. "I'll stop," he'd lied, and all of the blonde's words were lost with the night, with the bottle of vodka.
He couldn't just sleep. He wasn't drunk enough, he wouldn't be until he passed out. He hated alchohol, but God if he didn't love it. He also loved Roxas, but alcohol was there first. Axel just kept drinking, sitting on his couch, watching the walls spin faster and faster.
The blonde found him, and when Roxas' blue eyes met Axel's green, the red head felt as if he'd been caught cheating. Having an affair, with alcohol. "You said you'd stop," came the disapointed voice of the blonde, spinning and spinning. Axel didn't know what to say. He just stared.
"I'm sorry."
"No you're not," the blonde said flatly. Axel averted his eyes. He was, but he couldn't prove it. He couldn't stop. And Roxas left. And Axel hit the bottle again; hit it until it was gone, he was gone.
"I love you so much, but do me a favor baby; don't reply. Because I can dish it out, but I can't take it," the note read in nearly undecipherable handwriting. Half of it was soaked in blood, and after the blood was cleaned up "You were right about me," was found written on the tile by the note. They assumed he couldn't reach it at that point. He'd thrown the bottle against the wall after he'd emptied it, and taken the sharpest shard to his wrists right there in his kitchen.
Authors Notes: Inspired by Brand New's song Limousine. Lyrics taken from Limousine.