"Sometimes I Feel Like Whistling"
(My first fanfiction on many levels, let's just see how this goes over. Just incase: This is written in Axel's point of view. He's just being silly and conversing with himself. This isn't really my style of writing; it's so very emotional. D: but it's a decent piece I suppose. Enjoy plz? )
It's an interesting thing, being considered a number half the time, and some crude version of a ' shell of a human psychopath' the other. In all honesty, I don't mull over my thoughts too terribly often, but it does occur, and it's been happening more often lately too. I hate that. The fact that I can't stay in my own mind without feeling awkward or out of place. I mean, our minds, our free will, our logic (or lack of) is all we really have to our 'beings'.
Fuck whatever that shithead keeps trying to scar into me: I'm alive. I'm fucking human, and I have a fucking heart.
How could it be that my feeling, my very soul is only some stupid game in my head? I can't be that pathetic. I'm not. A heartless does not smile, it does not love, and it doesn't live. It's dead. We of the Organization XIII, are not dead. Not by any means. Other idiots can convince themselves of their early passing but I'm not that foolish.
What about Roxas?
What about my friend Roxas? My good friend Roxas? It's been made obvious to me over to past days with him that the heavy feeling in my stomach, the pull in my throat, the fact that I can only enjoy his company no matter what his sour mood is all his doing to me, to my self: my body and my heart. Something beats through me when we connect in that sinful manner. His hand on my back and I could feel the palpitations rock through my frame. His hand on my back. That's all. That's the only thing necessary; the smallest contact, having Roxas within my eyesight is enough, and then I'm off. I can recall the first time I felt that burning pang in my chest:
"Ah! Shit!" he cursed after tripping ever so gracefully over an invisible stone.
The words were curt and meaningless in my mind. He was bleeding barely, but I stood above him still as a board, my own breathing bouncing and echoing in my ears. 'Shit'. I had cursed around him many times before that but it was the first obscenity I had heard from his mouth. Though I expected it, I didn't know it'd have such an effect on my being. So harsh: the way he said it, it began like scoff and ended in a moan. And then the thought wouldn't leave me alone: Roxas moaning.
So I experimented. Not at that very moment, but a day later. I caught him in the hall and walked with him back to his room, but once inside it took every bit of courage I had to pin him against that door like I did. It was dark but I could tell he was protesting. "Axel, I'll kill you, this is an unfair advantage you know that right?" God, the innocent kid thought it was a game, it was enough to cripple me into laughter, but my grip on his wrists apparently just grew tighter as a result. "Ah..Ax..el…" he whined beneath me, the darkness hiding my grin. My breathing increased and to keep silent I opened my mouth, tongue instinctively licking my lips. I felt so embarrassed. My body burned, beat, and was beginning to swell for this guy, this boy. But I didn't want to loose that feeling no matter what. I felt the surge building within me and I wanted to be greedy and feel as much of this as I could. His neck and ear were where I spent most of my time. He, Roxas, would always fall silent when I touched him in such places, and I could feel his chest hold and then release unsteady breaths. But with the tip of my tongue, straight along his jawline and to the bottom of his earlobe, with this simple motion he'd emit the softest of moans. I should have guessed he'd be a tease like that. Eventually he became observant and by the third time, whenever I'd lick or mouth his chin, neck, or ear he 'accidentally' roll his own lips towards the side of my warm face and let out a breathy moan. It's always so good after that.
And even now, just these thoughts are breeding more thoughts and even more thoughts. He's just so exciting. He makes me irritated, no, bothered. No matter how much I touch him, no matter where, or how tightly I hold him to my chest, leathered or nude; we can't become close enough. Roxas is my heart. He's cried in my arms and I could feel it. I've cried myself and have felt nothing. He'll laugh and I know that warmth within my chest. Perhaps I'm selfish to know that my chest cavity burns bright with a strong heart, but if Roxas is the only way to 'feel' the so be it.
I'm such an idiot.
It's just all to amusing, that I'd be given a friend like Roxas.
When I'm with him, sometimes I feel like whistling. But I never do.