Title: Love; Rewritten
Rating: M (yaoi, language, non-explicit sexual situations)
Summary: Roxas' supposed romance with Axel was nothing like the stories Naminé used to weave for him. There were no rainbows and butterflies. Instead, there were filthy names, endless bouts of puking, and broken promises. They held hands anyway. AU
Disclaimer: I don't own Axel. Or Roxas. It's probably for the best.
I couldn't understand why I felt compelled to see Axel over and over again. Axel was drunk or high or stoned most of the time, and his touches were imperfect and often spontaneous; his kisses messy and lacking. Still, maybe it was his eyes – bright green, constantly burning with passion and amusement – that drew me to him, the way a flame draws a moth. Or the way his hipbones jutted outwards almost comically from that slim waist. Or maybe even that sleek, nasally voice he possessed, that could make almost any word sound absolutely filthy.
Honestly, I think it had a lot to do with the leather pants he had on tonight; low hanging and tight. Could he be more flamingly – pardon the pun - gay? I watched him mingle with the others, whispering dirty promises in ears of some, laughing loudly with others. In that moment, it occurred to me that Axel might've forgotten about our planned meeting. I was starting to regret agreeing to meet him when he abruptly disappeared from view and, a few minutes later, appeared on the bar stool next to me, head tilted and a smirk on his face.
"You're twenty minutes late." I said dryly, taking a swig of the beer in front of me. It burned all the way down and made my eyes sting. It'd been awhile since my last drink. Axel only smiled again; up close it looked a bit lopsided.
"Fucking missed you too, Roxas."
He tilted my chin upward and engaged in a rather enthusiastic make out session with my cheek. Definitely something wrong. I frowned and pushed him away; wiped my cheek with the back of my hand, and glared at his glassy eyes.
"Drunk already?." I said, more to myself than anything. Had I really expected anything else from him? I gave a sharp wave to the bartender and pulled a few crumpled bills out of my pocket to pay for the drinks. I grabbed Axel's hand and dragged him out, quieting his little whines and complains by pulling on his collar and nipping his neck every once in awhile until we got to the car. I pushed him into the passenger side and walked around the front, cursing under my breath. Once we were all buckled up, I shot a side-glance at Axel – currently staring dreamily at the window – before jamming the key into the ignition harder than I meant to.
"Don't you dare puke on the leather like last time."
As if startled, he jumped a little and looked over, green eyes brilliant in the dark. I doubted that he had heard me at all. His hands shook in his lap, and he gave me a lazy half-lidded sneer that made my stomach lurch when he caught me staring. How many times had this scenario played out?
"Re' we headed, babe?"
No reply. He was quiet after that, something I was thankful for. I think my hands were shaking a little too. As the scenery blurred past me and I applied a little more pressure to the gas, I started to ask myself a few questions, like: Why did I put up with this shit? How many drinks had Axel downed tonight? More importantly, why the hell was the flamer's hand on my crotch? I blinked; then -
"…Shit! Shit, Axel!"
More than a little disgusted, I swerved the car off the road and peeled the limp hand off my lap with my thumb and index finger. He looked down at his hand, then at me, a bit mournfully. I bit back a few retorts, but Axel apparently was lacking in the control department because his hand touched my thigh a few more times. After that, I think called him a faggot and told him to please keep his fucking hands off me. I didn't mean any of it, and besides, he wouldn't remember anything tomorrow morning anyway. One advantage of dating a drunkard.
"What, 'm not good enough for you anymore?" Abruptly, the sadness and drunken-ness became something else. Scornful. Angry. I opened my mouth to say something, but he cut me off by grabbing my collar and knocking our foreheads together and whispering, "Never complained b'fore. You became such a priss."
The tired look came back into his eyes, and Axel's grip slackened a little. I took the chance to snarl, surging forward and pinning him to the window. His head made a sickening thud against the tamper-proof glass, and he winced belatedly. Good. I hoped it hurt him as much as he was hurting me. The adrenaline surge faded quickly, leaving my heart to beat sickly in my chest. I let him slide down into the seat a little. His eyes never left mine. I know this because my eyes never left his.
He let me lace our fingers together, let me press our clammy palms together against the frosty window; watched me with bloodshot eyes. Goaded me. When had we both become so numb that only this made us feel some shred of emotion? I wanted him to know how helpless I felt watching him on his knees puking up little more than stomach acids and his drink of the choice that particular night. I wanted to tell him that I couldn't quite find the right words. I even wanted to tell him that he could do whatever the hell he wanted to or with me as long as he was sober. My fingers tightened unconsciously against his, and Axel gave a little sigh of protest.
"Axel, I – "
"Sh, quiet," He leaned into me and pushed a bony knee between my hips. I breathed in deeply the stench of cigarettes, sweat, and alcohol – three things that had become imprinted in my mind and re-labelled 'eau d'Axel.' The slightest movement would press our lips together. I studied his chapped ones, and made a note to ask what had happened to the lip balm I'd bought him tomorrow morning.
I leaned forward just as he pulled away, face flushed. He dragged the pad of his thumb against my cheek in a rough caress.
"You said not to puke in the car."
With these less than romantic parting words, he fumbled with the lock for a moment and stumbled out the door. Shock kept me in my seat for only a moment. I caught up to him quickly, tugging his flame-red hair back as he retched into a nearby bush.
Afterwards, we lay on our backs on the frozen ground looking up at the stars. Such a strange parallel to our previous actions. However, I was not one to complain at the sudden turn of events. At times like these, I could almost pretend that we were just a normal couple out on a normal date.
"Can I kiss you?" The words left my mouth before my brain could comprehend them. They hung in the air awkwardly.
I leaned up on my elbows and glanced over at Axel, waiting impatiently. His eyes were a little clearer now, and fire smoldered in those jade slits. I cleared my throat a little. It appeared I'd have to save my love confession for another day.
"I'll taste like barf." He rasped, but his lips skinned back to reveal pure white teeth disguising a life full of sin.
"Is that a yes?"
"…It's not a no."
A/N – Didn't really turn out the way I pictured it, but I'm pretty happy with it. ; I just wanted a story about the (really) destructive relationship between the two. I can't really picture it realistically any other way after watching several extremely depressing AMVs. In my mind, Roxas is too restless to ever truly settle down and just be happy, and even though Axel harbors deep feelings, it's not enough to make himself (or Roxas) change – all he can do is chase after Roxas because being near him is enough. Gah. I'll stop with the rambling now; I hope you all enjoyed this. :D Reviews are appreciated lots.