Disclaimer: If I owned this series the condom industry would probably be booming.
Drunk on You
Infection
When Axel thought back to his childhood, he liked to reflect upon cartoons, fad toys, and various pairs of themed tennis shoes adorned with super heroes sporting a "-man" at the end of their name. Of course, this is what most people like to think about, isn't it? A favorite Care Bear doll, hours spent watching Barney, and "digging a hole to China" expeditions in sandboxes at school and home are pleasant and sometimes foolish memories. Everyone has them, even Axel.
Roxas was a different story.
Axel had already left sandboxes and stuffed dolls behind when he and Roxas had first crossed paths. Roxas, a stubborn fourth grader far too small to his age, considered himself with typical nine-year-old arrogance as "nearly a teenager" or "nearly an adult" therefore entitling himself to "adult" activities. He couldn't help but smile upon seeing the horror-stricken looks on the faces of his classmates when he let a "shit" or a "damn" slip into his speech.
For this reason Axel had been particularly intrigued upon meeting the boy. He had been sitting on the reckless school bus, his head leaning against the window, when the seat had moved a bit. Scowling, the fifteen-year-old looked up to glare at the shrimp next to him. Most of the elementary school kids had more sense than to sit this far back in the bus, especially next to a kid like Axel. His eyes were rimmed in black eyeliner and he drew a new shape beneath them each day with a sharpie marker. His nails were painted black, his hair dyed an oily black at the time that made his ivory skin look even lighter. His eyebrows were two angry red lines above his acid green eyes.
A kindergarten girl had once been sentenced to sitting by him after throwing food in the bus driver's hair. Axel had offered her a watery smile and she had promptly burst into tears. And while this kid was certainly no kindergarten girl, his large blue eyes and gentle face suggested innocence and naïveté. The boy had merely given Axel a surprised look in return, quirking a little eyebrow. It was a look Axel got frequently from his sisters - a "what's your problem?" look.
In his bitterness, Axel kicked the blond's backpack, sending it flying into the aisle. A far more decent high-schooler picked it up and slid it back over to the boy, who muttered his thanks before turning back to glare at Axel who had commenced staring out the window.
"That was uncalled for and rude." His voice was high, a prepubescent lisp dancing upon his tongue with each word. The firmness and over all pissiness was still there.
"I suppose you're gonna ask me to apologize, now," Axel grumbled.
"Hell no." Showing off his cussing skills, no doubt. Axel had to smile at that.
"Wow, those are some dirty words for such a pretty little boy. Sure you're not a fucking girl?" Axel had expected horror or embarrassment upon dropping the F-bomb, but the child just poked his bottom lip out haughtily.
"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"
"No, just my brother," Axel said coldly. He had been harboring a kind of grudge against Reno after he had decided to move out of their shitty house and into his girlfriend's trailer. Axel was just waiting for the day when the American tragedy would come crashing down and the girl would get pregnant, Reno would get hooked on some drug or another, and they would end up moving into the house Axel currently shared with his mother and screw everything up.
"That's kinda gross. I would never kiss my brother," Roxas replied, face contorting in disgust. Axel bristled, immediately taking umbrage to the blond's statement.
"Whatever, kid. Is he ugly?" Axel growled.
"I dunno. I guess not, he has a girlfriend and a son." The blond was beginning to ramble, a habit kids often had. Not that Roxas was like normal kids - Axel could already tell there must have been something different about him. Maybe an abusive home life? "He' twenty. His hair is spiky like yours and he lives with me."
"And your parents?"
Roxas gave a little shrug. Axel noticed his eyes closed when he did this, his abnormally long, black lashes standing out against his skin. He really did look girlish.
"They're not around," the boy answered cryptically.
"What's your name?" Axel asked abruptly. The bus had just pulled up to the elementary school and a group of small bodies at the front of the bus were scrambling for their backpacks and lunchboxes, clambering for the door. The blond stood and slung his backpack over his narrow shoulder, turning to look at Axel with a boyish smile.
"I'm Roxas," he said. He was about to continue down the aisle when Axel grabbed his hand suddenly, unclipping a Sharpie from one of the chains on his pants and scribbling his name down into the palm of the boy's hand.
Roxas clutched his hand into a fist when Axel was done, holding it to his chest as he made his way to the front of the bus.
The day had been absolute hell, as usual. Axel had passed another test, but barely, and one of his teachers had requested a parent conference. Someone had made a crack about his eye makeup, as usual, and his belt broke in third period. He had skipped lunch to go smoke weed in the bathroom and was almost caught by the assistant principal until he flushed the perfectly good fag down the toilet and spent the rest of the lunch period scrawling obscene words on the bathroom walls.
He was the first person on the bus that afternoon, slamming his backpack under his seat and propping his head against the window to glare down at all the other students. After a few moments he uncapped his trusty sharpie and scrawled a few of his most philosophical thoughts about life at the time:
FucK hAte make tHem SCReAM
Satisfied with his artwork, Axel crossed his arms over his chest and commenced staring out the window for the next fifteen minutes, not even looking up when the bus pulled in front of the elementary school and a dozen giggling little girls and obnoxious boys clambering up the steps with backpacks full of crayons and coloring books.
The seat squeaked.
Axel turned his head, surprised to see the blond boy from earlier sitting there. He had pretty much forgotten about the kid during the day.
Roxas didn't say anything; he was studying what was written on the seat in front of him.
"You wrote this, didn't you?" he asked finally. At that instant the bus roared to life and chaos broke out around the two - shouting, paper airplanes flying through the air, and high-pitched, obnoxious laughing drilling itself into their heads.
Axel picked at his fingernail polish.
"That's not nice, you know. I mean, there's nothing wrong with the words - they're just words after all - but this seat is leather. It was a cow once, you know. And it's not nice to write on anything that can have sex. That's what my mom told me - if it can hump or be humped, don't write on it. It's because I colored my brother's dog pink with a marker once and we couldn't wash it out."
Axel stared at this little boy in disbelief. He was kicking his feet and staring at his scraped knees as he talked, not looking at Axel.
Roxas hadn't had scraped knees this morning.
Neglecting the conversation - Axel didn't want to explain that the sea covers were made from plastic, not cows - he pointed at the still-bleeding knees.
"Are you okay, kid?"
Roxas looked up; his eyes were bright.
"Yeah! I just fell. Cut it open on the side of the sandbox."
"Why didn't you go to the nurse, you retard? That could get infected!" Axel poked the wound and Roxas slapped his hand away, making a noise in his throat.
"It'll be fine!"
"Do you have Neosporin at your house or anything?"
Roxas shrugged. "Dunno."
"You know where your medicine cabinet is?"
"Can't reach it." Roxas kicked his legs some more; Axel noticed some of the blood had dripped down his leg and was soaking into his pure white socks.
"Is your brother, parent, whatever at home?" Axel wasn't even registering what he was saying - on a regular basis he would be disgusted with himself for acting like some kind of concerned mother or something. Next thing he knew, he would be-
"You live in my neighborhood, right? Get off with me at my stop. I'll fix you up at my house," Axel said briskly, looking away from Roxas quickly after saying this. He was still badass and bitter, after all. No blond-haired blue-eyed fourth grader could change that.
"Define 'fix up' for me," Roxas asked.
"Just... put some alcohol on it and slap on a band-aid."
Roxas seemed hesitant but agreed anyway. Obviously he hadn't been paying attention during the "don't talk to strangers" lesson and therefore had missed the "don't talk to strangers especially if they have fake piercings and chains and write bad words" point. Ten minutes later he was standing in Axel's small kitchen, examining the gaudy teapot collection on a dusty shelf.
Axel, meanwhile, was searching frantically for anything that could serve as a disinfectant. Hydrogen peroxide? The bottle was empty. Neosporin? Nowhere to be found. Bleach? Ah hell, he didn't want to kill the kid!
After uncovering an empty rubbing alcohol bottle, Axel was struck with an idea. He grabbed Roxas by the waist and hoisted the lightweight boy on the countertop where he sat obediently, awaiting his treatment.
Axel opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of his favorite scotch - scotch he was careful not to indulge in too often. Didn't want to raise suspicions around the household.
He wet a paper towel and poured the alcohol on it before approaching the cheerful little boy still seated on the counter.
"We talked about the Constitution today," Roxas said, swinging his legs as usual. "Our teacher says if we memorize the Preamble we can get extra credit on the next test. Can you recite the P- AHHH! OH MY- CRAPCRAPCRAP! DAMN! ASS! CRAPCRAP OH MY GOD THAT HURTS!"
Upon seeing the boy scream in pain, Axel absolutely panicked. Apparently hard alcohol was not the same as rubbing alcohol.
Tossing the wet paper towel away, Axel grabbed the bottle and grabbed some of his hair roughly, pulling his head back and pouring a bit of the drink into his mouth. Roxas sputtered, his eyes by now already leaking tears. He glared at Axel.
"Wh-wha-"
"It'll ease the pain, give it time." Axel leaned against the opposite counter and took a swig for himself. Looking sick, Roxas bent over, his hands on his thighs.
"It's not... ugh..."
Axel offered the bottle again. Roxas took it and took another drink, this time the liquid going down the right tube. Still, he grimaced.
"Tastes... kinda nasty..."
"It's an acquired taste," Axel explained, sticking the scotch back in the fridge cheerfully. "Now, we should get you home, shouldn't we?"
Roxas nodded weakly and fell against Axel when the teenager tried to pull him off the counter. Frustrated, Axel let the blond crawl onto his back and stood up, ready to carry the kid piggy-back style until the small hands on his shoulders suddenly disappeared and there was a thud that sounded vaguely like a nine-year-old rump hitting a linoleum floor behind him. Axel was finally reduced the carrying the kid bridal-style, clutching him against his tall, thin body. Roxas muttered something and leaned over, vomiting on the carpet.
Skirting around the mess, Axel trudged outside and began making his way down the street towards Roxas's house. He figured now wasn't a good time to scold the kid about the vomit; his dog had probably licked it all up by now.
"How'd you hurt your knee?" he asked again.
Roxas looked up, a faint smile on his face. His cheeks were red and his eyes were red and a little watery.
"R-riku pushed me down."
"Who?"
"Riku," the tipsy boy repeated, squirming a little in Axel's arms. The teenager took this opportunity to outright drop the kid - if he was sober enough to form coherent sentence, he could certainly walk. Even if it meant Axel had to hold his hand like some elementary school reject.
"And why did Riku do that?"
Axel was so unprepared for the answer that he sputtered a bit when Roxas told him.
"I was flirting with his boyfriend."
"...Oh."
Once Axel had dropped Roxas off and had arrived back home, he pulled the scotch back out of the fridge and took a refreshing sip. The pile of vomit had begun to dry. Wrinkling his nose, Axel took another long swig of the drink and reached for a paper towel.
