DISCLAIM IT: I don't own KH2. Never will. I only own this plot, and well, the ideas that come around it.
Title: Color My Way: Crimson
Summary: Thoroughly disillusioned with life, Marluxia secludes himself to his home. Known as "Fairy" to his only friend, Larxene, Marluxia goes through the various days of his life, colorblind and jaded. What's a reclusive man to do when suddenly, a color he had never before seen, appears to him?
Overall pairing: MarluxiaAxel, AxelRoxas
Chapter Status: One of Three
Warnings: I'm not a gardener. I only know the meanings of the flowers I use, and the definite description of them. I don't know where they grow, or how they grow, so bear with me. My uncle would so totally kill me if he knew that I never paid any attention to him. And—oh, about Axel; he's a wonderful character to depict. I hope you guys like how I make him. It was fun swearing like a drunk-beaten sailor. ;)
Other warnings: Cussing, general boyboy loving, and author's inability to make coherent sentences that sticks to the plot. You have been warned.
Chapter One: The First Time
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Marluxia liked flowers. They were pretty, soft, and most of all—he'd like to think—full of color. Not only that, but they'd never speak, put up a fight, or even nag him. It was wonderful. However, the main problem with him was something special: he couldn't see any colors. Granted, he did see greys, shaded blues, blacks and whites—but never the other colors he had read about. It made him sick with envy, whenever Larxene came by, and told him (in vivid detail) about the colors she had seen on a daily basis.
Larxene was a bit of a sadist when it came to things, if Marluxia had to be honest. A sadist with sexual prowess, but a close friend nevertheless.
As he meticulously potted his acacias, his mind had already begun to drift off. Oft times, he'd wonder what it'd be like to see in the way that most people could. How did the color yellow look like? The color pink? Orange? How did the sun, which'd beat down upon his back as he was working, appear? Would it be bright, sunny-? Would the descriptions he had read in his books ever actually describe the full beauty of color? He didn't know.
Thusly, he found himself out of acacias to pot.
"A bit absentminded there, hey fairy?" asked Larxene, who had a penchant for sitting on the seat of his expensive kubo.
Marluxia scowled.
"No, so lug your fat butt off my property—that's a family heirloom you know," he said, watching as she, as usual, gazed dispassionately around her, then back at him. He could feel the edges of his lips twitching as she appeared deadpanned.
"Well," she said at last. "I don't think I will. I think I'm quite comfortable here." To illustrate her statement, Larxene snuggled down onto the plush seats and immersed herself into her latest book: Marquis de Sade, the Crimes of Love. The cover was that of a man, lapping up a woman's breast, and the woman, looking for all the world limp and dead in his arms.
Marluxia tried hard not to stare.
He eventually went back to quietly potting his flowers (this time, alstromerias) and without another word to Larxene. He was sort of annoyed for her imposing upon his time of solitude. It wasn't until she had literally thrown a shovel at him, that he paid any attention to her.
Marluxia's eyes narrowed imperceptibly.
"What is it now, wench?" he glared, and snapped his gloves off. Long, long fingers wound through his hair in nervousness, as Larxene's face twisted into a vicious leer. He knew that look and it made him anxious. That look meant utter trouble—trouble that normally meant something good in the long run, if he was brave enough to face it.But usually, it wasn't the case, so Marluxia feared it as much as he feared his uncle's visit.
"Your neighbor," she said pointedly, "is over near your rose bushes, wondering if he could get borrow a lump of sugar."
Marluxia doubled-back, surprised. "You must be kidding me, right?" he asked disbelievingly.
"Nope," she replied cheerfully. "He's crazy that one—but I like him. If you ever get your lazy ass up and take a peek at him you'll see what I mean, that is."
"I can't see much, you mean," Marluxia grumbled, but resolved to whine in private sometime later. "Well," he said testily, eyebrows rising at the lounging woman. "Go tell him off or something. I'm busy."
"Not anymore," she said with her patented smirk. She grabbed his gloves before he could protest, and was off, running to his front porch. Calling behind her, Larxene shouted, "And you know what, fairy? I gave him your number too! So if you want your expensive gloves and honor back, come and get it!"
"Damnit, woman!"
Marluxia immediately sped after her, cursing himself for having such a friend in the first place. Must've been his mother's bad taste and literal insanity. It ran in the family, as Marluxia experienced as he was growing up. From mother to son who hung out all the time—yeah, it was hereditary.
He tripped on the edges of his long pantaloons and face-faulted into a wall of utter warmth.
Then his jacket suddenly caught on fire.
Marluxia wished it was a good day.
"Shit, oww, that smarts!"
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Axel was having a bad day.
First of all, Roxas dumped him.
Again.
And for some two-faced punk down the street, who sang like an utter angel, but acted like a total fuckwit. Was Axel angry? Nooo, of course not! He was practically livid. He had torn apart the kitchenette and burned all the copies of photos he had of Roxas in the heat of the moment. Was Axel a pyromaniac that was hell-bent on finding a way to get his boyfriend back? HELL YES. And that was the second time the blond dumped him, too. For being a fucktard, or something, was what Roxas had shouted at him. Kicking a stray pebble, Axel grumbled. God was his life pathetic. If lady luck had a son, he'd be her second failure—not counting his brother misfortune, naturally.
And secondly, Roxas' heteropaternal twin was bugging him. Twin. T-W-I-N of all people. Got that memorized? Not only did it severely depress him, but it pissed him off like fuck too.
"Hey Axel, what're you doing today?" pestered Sora, the sweet-looking kid (it was enough to make many a man salivate) that had a brain the size of a walnut (sadly). Axel bit back a sarcastic reply, and instead, gave the brunet the universal 'fuck-off' sign as he continued to trudge down the lane. In most cases, that sign was known as the universal peace sign, or go fuck your whore of a mother in some cases.
"Geez, you don't have to act so rude!" Sora exclaimed, offended. Deep blue eyes, the exact same color of Roxas' own, glared at him reproachfully, and Axel was tempted to give the kid a sucker punch. Or maybe even oral rape his mouth. Axel sighed to himself.
He really did need to get a better grip on his temper. And definitely his sick, perverse libido too.
"Heeeello? Mister Rudeness, are you there?" Sora waved a cute hand.
"Shut up," Axel retorted immediately. "And stop acting like a fucking woman. Jesus, first Roxas, then you? Can't I get a break from all this shit?" And really, could his life get any better than this literal shitehole?
This time, Sora pouted. It seemed as though he had no suitable comeback. Good. That meant less headaches and more emo-ing out. Hell, he should've just joined Zexion at his apartment at Twilight town for some good old fashioned bonging and fucking each other.
To Axel's surprise, they managed to walk in silence.
Squinting at the brunet warily from the corner of his eyes, Axel was almost relieved when Sora turned the other way and walked off. Probably to suck off Riku's dick or something. Axel thought for a moment, then brushed the former thought away. Nah. Sora was a good kid. He would probably be making babies (Axel pulled a face) with that Kairi-whore living down at the Mayor's office. Yeah, what a life. He'd rather be having kinky man-sex in the back of a car (not really) than be off with some red-haired wannabe that went down for anyone. And this was a known fact—he even had her for a moment or two. She'd been a virgin then, but afterwards, an insatiable bitch. Man did he have an effect on people.
And lastly--well, if he was honest (and he wasn't), he had no lastly. He just wanted to whine. And that he did.
Fuck my luck and shite my home, and DAMNIT I want ROXAS back in behind with me, writhing and moaning like a wanton boyfriend I know he is.
Axel then, afterwards, proceeded to amble to his favorite spot in the whole neighborhood: the castle. It was owned by some exclusive son of a bitch named Marluxia, and Axel had seen the bastard's hottie of a girlfriend. She was a total dominatrix, from what he could tell about her wardrobe. No really—leather, handcuffs, and chains-? What was that masochistic son of a bitch thinking? S&M? BDSM?
"Hmm, seems like a good place to fuck up," he mumbled. Once reaching the said mansion, Axel knocked on the huge wooden doors ("Man, are these made out of real gold!?"), and waited.
And waited, and waited.
Twenty minutes of waiting, and Axel had already begun to give up. Damnit, and he'd wanted to trash the place too. He couldn't do that from the outside because a) there were damned cops, b) it was lame, and c) he wasn't a fucking delinquent anymore. He needed more style, and what better way to sabotage a mansion than from the inside out?
Axel smirked. Yeah, he loved his wicked ideas.
The large doors finally opened up, to reveal the bastard's girlfriend, AKA dominatrix, or so Axel had dubbed her. The tall, feeler-haired blonde gave him a haughty look.
"What is it you need?" she said in a perfectly manicured accent, her blasted electric blue eyes glinting. Axel wanted to beat the living shite out of her.
"Oh, just a lump of sugar, babe," he simpered disgustingly, then inwardly laughed at her taken aback stare. Though that all changed in a millisecond, when the woman's face contorted devilishly. Uh oh. Axel had a feeling he was playing with a wildcard.
"Sure, he'll be here in just a moment," she replied sweetly, then slammed the huge double doors in his face.
An hour later, and a demolished ice cream truck later, Axel was bored. The bitch still hadn't come back and he still didn't have a lump of sugar. Sure he had an ice cream truck filled up with expensive sea-salt popsicles, but what good did that do him? Nothing, that's right. It would only serve to make him fatter, and depress him, since Roxas's first love was these stupid, phallic-symbolizing popsicles.
He let out a small breath, and was about to leave, until a heavy force knocked him backwards.
Yeah how clichéd, was that right? Wrong, because Axel was having a bad day.
Axel had ended up lighting the stranger's expensive shirt on fire.
Whoops, he thought to himself, after gaining a possible black eye from the stranger's elbow. It was just a reflex, he swore it on the dirt of his brother, Reno's grave. Well, not really, a small voice in the back of his mind whispered traitorously.
"Shit, oww, that smarts!" a deep voice cussed.
Yeah, Axel thought dreamily, suddenly getting an eye full of fiery hot (literally) bastard. Granted, he was having a bad day, that he could easily admit. But now, after having a gorgeous man on top of him, he felt that it was pretty good overall. His mouth opened and on it's own accord, his tongue moved:
"Hi, I'm Axel, A-X-E-L, sweetcheeks. Got it memorized?"
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I'm a Filipino (yey!), and kubo means a small (like a closet bathroom), open-structured house thingy. Gazebo, I think? Anyway, GAH, I'm not really that good at explaining what it means, but you get the gist of it, right?