Raining In Athens
Summary: You'd be surprised what can end up happening once you think your world has ended. How the most unlikely of people can pick up the pieces. AU. Oneshot. Saxel.
Other: ALL Lyric credit goes to 'Azure Ray'
For Comm.
BEWARE of my horrible, random jumps between tenses.
Hold on love,
Even when I cry all night
Even when I say I don't love you.
Just hold on love.
So my head gets a little cloudy,
And the drink goes straight to my heart.
The words come like a runaway train,
In the dark.
Just hold on love.
Even when I scream and fight,
Even when I swear I don't love you,
Just hold on tight.
And when the darkness falls over,
Like a storm cloud in my head,
Something inside says It's easier
To push you away but- stay and
Hold on love.
-Azure Ray- Hold on Love-
"And to this day, I nurse the fever that spoiled my poor heart." The words, softly sang to the point of almost being murmured, were what woke Saïx up. The blunette's brow crinkled into a frown as he lay flat on his back on the large full sized bed, the set of black and deep blue comforters strewn about- sheets tangled in-between his legs. As if hoping that the 'music' would die off, he didn't move or open his eyes, just continued to frown tiredly.
They didn't and only continued onward, the lyrics being murmured close to his ear now. "And I've mastered the art of dealing, slipping away without falling apart…"
Saïx finally gave in and when he cracked open his eyes, the golden irises met with acidic. Axel was hovering over him, one hand pressed into the soft material of the bed on Saïx's far side, and the rest of his body barely graced Saïx's side, as if Axel had been afraid to wake him.
Upon seeing Saïx's open eyes, Axel's customary smile quirked up on his lips, and he dipped his head down to break the eye-contact, resting his cheek against the bluenette's shoulder. "So when this summer, you call – maybe, and ask how I've been…"
Axel was singing again, more of those sad, soft songs that were played over the loud-speakers in the shop that Axel worked at. Axel always complained about having all of these sad songs stuck in his head; the ones who's lyrics told stories of lovers broken apart- but Saïx had never heard the other even consider changing the radio station to something more upbeat. But he didn't mention this to Axel because he knew Axel knew.
Saïx knew everything.
"I can be honest and answer, plainly," Axel continued, his lips grazing Saïx's earlobe and making the bluenette shudder slightly. "Since November, it's been raining." The lyrics died after this, breaking away to a soft hum, and the red head lifted his head to briefly nuzzle Saïx's jaw line- some silent form of a 'good morning', even though it was mid-afternoon.
Saïx stretched, popping his toes, and yawned a little before flopping an arm lazily across the other's waist. He surveyed the other's face tiredly, noting the blob of hot fudge smeared across Axel's right cheek. "You're a horrible singer," He murmured, bluntly, and Axel just laughed. It was a lie and they both knew it.
"You're just jealous," Axel cooed in response, grinning widely and pulled away to sit upright.
Without waiting for any sort of witty come-back, Axel wrapped his pale hands around the other's elbow, and began to lightly tug him. "Come on- Time to get up."
Saïx made a small noise of disagreement, and leaned forward long enough to wrap his arms around Axel's waist and tug the other down onto the bed with him, forcing him into a cuddled position. He pressed his face into the other's neck lightly, and yawned again. "You smell like ice-cream."
Axel laughed again, sliding his arms back around the bluenette and adjusted into the position, taking care to make sure his work shoes didn't touch the bedspread. "Yeah. Roxas bumped into me and made me spill some milkshakes all over my shirt."
Saïx snorted.
Jump to a month back, when Axel had gotten some off-breed of the flu, with the symptoms increased ten-fold thanks to the red-head's anemia, and was bed-ridden for five days straight.
This was also conveniently when Saïx up and decided to use five days of his vacation from work because, as he had claimed it, he had never been one for vacationing. Axel only smiled weakly and didn't point out how Saïx had been talking about visiting Greece.
On the fourth day of being sick, after the fever that made the red-head's face flushed and pale all at the same time, after Axel had vomited so much he had to start all over with introducing his body to solid foods, Saïx had found himself perched on the edge of the bed, tearing off pieces of bread and feeding Axel.
Axel was laughing, a sad weak sort of chuckle that made Saïx's stomach churn with some foreign sense of worry, his head propped up on three or for pillows, and was trying his best not to take this opportunity of generosity for granted. You could coax affection out of Saïx, after all, but it was very rare that he willingly showed some sort of concern over anyone rather than himself.
However, when Saïx slipped a piece of bread past the red-head's lips once more, Axel couldn't help but snigger.
Almost instantly Saïx stopped, golden irises narrowing in something that bordered suspicion. "What?"
Axel wiped the smirk from his face, trying his best to look innocent. "Nothing," He replied, shortly, quickly.
Saïx's eyes stayed narrowed, and his lips curved down-ward into a displeased frown- the one that overtook his face – the same one that Axel always complained about not liking. Without saying anything further, he dropped the bread and made his exit, leaving the bedroom door open as he skirted down the hallway, ignoring Axel's weak laughter from behind him. However, when the laughter abruptly cut off into sharp, painful sounding coughs, Saïx forgot everything about self pride and performed a U-Turn right back into the bedroom.
Rewind to when Saïx and Axel first met- when Roxas had first hired his best friend to work for him rather than see the red-head play the role of a starving artist, like every other kid on the streets with a guitar. Axel was already too skinny, and not having any money for food probably wouldn't have made things any better, was his reasoning.
So here was this red haired boy; this artist, with a blue and red bordered polo t-shirt and a red apron, standing behind a register on a rainy Saturday afternoon. This artist had a smiled painted across his lips that was so overly enthusiastic that the tattoos on his cheeks stretched from it, and his lips were parting and asking, "How can I help you?"
The man on the other side of the register had on a dark gray business suit, a trim, pricey looking one, and blue hair that had been pulled back into a pony-tail for a more sophisticated look. A brief-case was clasped in one gloved hand, and his eyes, an interesting amber color, were flicking across the menu above the cashier's head.
After a long moment his eyes dropped, curving across the golden gleaming name-tag pinned to the other's chest that read 'Axel', and his eyebrows arched lightly.
When Saïx finally orders -some strange turtle sundae- it takes Axel five tries to hit the right buttons on the register, and when Saïx hands him his money, the red head miscounts it. Saïx's intense golden gaze has gotten the red head to blush now as he fumbles with the money, careful to not let the coins slip from the other's hand as he hands him his change.
When Roxas comes over seconds later to make sure everything has gone alright, Axel takes the opportunity and flees to the back of the shop and out of sight.
Roxas apologizes, explaining why his employee isn't exactly brilliant at the register, and makes Saïx his sundae.
A week passes by before Saïx shows up again, at three o clock, dressed in something more casual. The smile he tosses the red head at the register is softer than his usual choice, and Axel can't help but grin back.
Jump forward again, three months after Saïx had offered the spare room to Axel after hearing that the male had gotten kicked out of his last apartment, when Saïx comes home from work late one night only to find the lights off and Axel half-passed out at the dining room table. There are ghosts of tears trailed down his cheeks, and the red head is nursing a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels, his cheek pressed against his arm on the smooth wooden table-top.
He hiccups a sob when Saïx's fingers brush his wrist, his own fingers tightening on the neck of his bottle.
Saïx's brief-case thumps to the floor quietly, not dropped, but carefully set down, and the bluenette lifts his hand to gently slide the bottle from Axel's grip. Axel makes another small, strangled noise in the back of his throat, and his fingers grasp instead onto Saïx's wrist.
The older male freezes, not quite sure how to handle this sudden skin on skin contact, and doesn't have time to think when Axel suddenly pulls him close and buries his face in the crook of Saïx's neck.
He's breathing ragged, his breath reeking of whiskey, but Saïx doesn't have the heart to pull away. Instead, he slides his arms awkwardly around the younger male and doesn't shush his tears.
He's never seen Axel cry before- or even show this much of a break in his normal charisma- so he assumes it's something worth crying over.
And it is.
But while Saïx has been thinking this, Axel's been tugging him closer in some vain attempt to make Saïx at the same height as he currently was. What jerks Saïx from his thoughts is Axel's mouth on his own, that stink of whiskey invading his senses- too close. His stomach jumps- full of butterflies that twist blue and red, and his grip on Axels' wrist slackens. But the red head isn't giving up that easily- he's slid his hands to hold onto Saïx's shoulders, and his mouth is pressed to the bluenette's.
Without thinking, Saïx is pressing back, his golden eyes fluttering shut. Axel's fingers, they've dropped to slip down, tracing the belt wrapped around Saïx's hips. He tugs, and begins to un-tuck the white button up shirt so the coat-tails fall out, making Saïx look more ruffled than he usually allows.
When Saïx tries to stand, Axel goes with him- persistent, stumbling. He hiccups another sob, more of to get it out of his system than anything. He's not so upset now, and when the pair stumble down the hallway and Axel's head bumps up against the wood on Saïx's door, Axel actually whimpers when Saïx pulls away.
Even drunk, Axel can read the look on the other male's face- he's too sober to fuck his room-mate, but Axel, he can't take no for an answer. His fingers are sliding up, tangling in that long blue hair, and his lower lip has dropped. He hiccups again, and his voice comes out weak and broken, "P-please," He utters, and Saïx softens. Again, Axel leans forward, his lips ghosting Saïx's. "I need this."
Suddenly, Saïx understands why Axel's drunk and upset and sobbing. It's all about Roxas, and Saïx's pride melts away, and his fingers drop to hold onto the red head's hip. His other hand lifts, twisting at the knob on his door so Axel partway falls in, saved by Saïx's arm around his waist; Saïx's lips on his neck.
They stumble to the bed, and Axel's already shoving the suit jacket off of Saïx's shoulders, and is loosening the dark tie wrapped around the bluenette's neck. The jacket falls in a heap to the ground, and Saïx toes off his shoes as Axel straddles him on the edge of the bed.
Axel, he's never been in Saïx's room before this moment, but he's too drunk to register what a step this is- his hips roll, and the bluenette moans lowly, something soft and rare and Axel drinks it in.
When they finally fit together, when Axel's underneath the other male, flushed and moaning unabashedly, it's like a piece of Saïx he didn't know was missing is filled. The apathy that's been crushing his heart softens, as Axel's nails dig into the pale flesh on his back, arching. They're a giant puzzle piece and Saïx can't help but notice how his room-mate, although still wasted, has visibly changed with recognition to this as well.
Axel arches again, moving with each thrust in the absolute perfect rhythm and Saïx buries his face in the smooth crook of the red head's neck. He groans, lowly, and bites onto Axel's pulse-point as they come at the same moment. Saïx sinks down, breathing raggedly before he pulls out.
Axel's moving towards the edge of the bed, as if expected to be kicked out, but Saïx has wrapped his arms around the red head's slim waist and is tugging him back, under the covers with him.
That night, Saïx cuddles for the first time. For the first time, being this close to somebody doesn't strike him as irritating or bothersome.
Rewind 6 hours before the last scene, where Axel and Roxas are closing the shop for the day. The lights have been dimmed, the doors locked, and the radio's been turned up to something that would probably offend most of their usual customers.
Axel's laughing as he mops the tiling in the front, his little red apron still tied around his waist, matching the exact shade of his brilliant hair. Roxas is leaning against the counter, the register open, and he's supposed to be counting money but instead he's looking forlornly out the window, a ghost of a smile on his lips. But the smile- it's sad, and it's fake and Axel knows this because Best Friends can tell this kind of shit without any words. So he stops mopping, his expression sobering and his anti-freeze green eyes look at his friend with concern.
Roxas looks up after a moment, dejected. "I-" He starts and cuts himself off, and Axel lifts his eyebrows, trying not to look too interested.
Lately, he's been meaning to talk to Roxas but Axel's never been great a words. He can't string his thoughts together for the life of him- everything he says comes out in riddles, and that's the last thing he wants to happen when he talks to Roxas on The Subject of his Feelings.
Not that Roxas knows anything about this subject- how would he? The only other person that knows would be Axel's room-mate, but that's only because Saïx is gay and it's not strange to talk about such things.
Roxas shakes his head, his mouth curving to mutter, "Forget it," but Axel's stepped forward, concern shaping his face. The blonde looks a little torn- a little lost, but then smiles weakly to try and cover it up. Axel was always playing the best friend role.
"It's just… I need your help." Roxas wasn't making eye-contact, and Axel was torn between curiosity and worry, but kept his distance, one hand still on the mop as he leaned against the other side of the counter. "Axel, I, uh, really like," Roxas is stuttering, bashful, his baby blue eyes lifting to meet with Axel's acidic ones and the red head's heart soars. This is just like a movie.
"Roxas," Axel cuts in, and the blonde bites down on his lip. "I have something I need to tell you, too."
Roxas pauses and looks interested for a moment, breaking through his sad face. Almost as if on a cue, he nods, understanding some mute command from the red head. Axel and Roxas had been friends since they were five- and they had always shared secrets with one another- as best friends tend to do-, but they did it a certain way that had always struck them as tradition. They still carried it out, even now that they were in their early twenties.
Together, their words spilled out;
"-IthinkIlove-"
"-really like Naminè."
"-…you."
There's a sudden silence, and Roxas has acquired this strange expression on his face. Axel pales, and shoots his gaze away, his stomach knotting up as his best friend's words sink into him. Instantly, he hates tradition. He hates his word vomit and himself and how incredibly fucking stupid he is and how he never really noticed the way Naminè and Roxas looked at one another.
Roxas is the first to speak, although his voice has a strange tone to it and his gaze won't meet Axel's. "Naminè and I," He starts, quiet. "We're engaged. I asked her to marry me, Axel."
Axel's heart has dropped into the pit of his stomach, where the acid is swirling and bubbling and eating through the organ, leaving him numb and stunned.
This silence stretches until Axel's body goes into auto-pilot. A painful mask of a grin spreads on his face and he clasps the handle of his mop to his chest, swallowing the sting in his throat. "That's great, Roxas," He approves, grinning, grinning until it starts to hurt. Roxas gives him a funny look, out of the corner of his eye as if he thinks Axel won't see, but then relaxes. Like he hadn't heard Axel's confession- his mind is already forgetting; erasing.
He smiles, weak, and rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah," He murmurs in response, scooping up the money and shuts the register. "It's a big step though, you know?" Without waiting for a response he heads into the back, calling over his shoulder. "See you Saturday, Axel."
Axel mops quickly, the tears burning at the back of his eyes, and leaves through the back door with a silence he didn't know he had.
Jump to present time, when Saïx and Axel have been living together for over a year now in Saïx's nice mod-art apartment in the center of the city. Saïx is out doing something or another- not working, just running some errands and Axel's got an apron tied around his waist and he's staring down at a cook-book.
Today's October 22nd and the only reason the date is illuminated in his mind is because it's Saïx's 25th birthday.
Axel has never really been one for cooking and he knows this. Normally Saïx makes dinner/breakfast/lunch or they order out or do something simplistic, because whenever Axel cooks, shit burns.
But it's not his fault he wasn't destined to be a chef. Saïx, sometimes he teases, telling Axel how lucky he is that ice cream can't be caught on fire. Axel doesn't take it seriously, this kind of teasing. Naminè, she always laughs and coos and covers her mouth with her palm and murmurs, 'Lover's spat' to herself as if no one else can hear it whenever she's around to hear them argue and tease one another. Roxas, he thinks it's cute, but that could be more because he's glad his best friend isn't so broken-hearted anymore.
Standing in their black and blue kitchen, Axel's frowning down at the cook-book. There's a couple of mixing bowls on the counter, along with a few other utensils and obvious cake ingredients.
The book splayed out on the counter, the page's title reads 'GERMAN CHOCOLATE CAKE' in big bold lettering, with the proper measurements and procedures written below it. The recipe is hand-written by Axel's grandmother, and it's been passed down to him for god knows why. His family knows that he's a musician, not a baker, but he still got stuck with this book.
Part of the recipe, it's in German, and Axel has to back-peddle through his mind to remember what word means what- he speaks fluent, but he hasn't used the language since high school because it's not like anyone he knows now speaks German.
He follows the instructions with a sense of perfectionism, and even calls up Olette once or twice to ask her what some of the cooking terms were supposed to mean. Half an hour later, and Axel's just put the cake into the oven. He watches it anxiously for a moment or two and, once he decides that it's not going to explode, slips off back into the bedroom to get Saïx's presents together.
When the bluenette arrives home an hour later, he's greeted by Axel at the dining table, where a round, dark chocolate cake is surrounded by a small collection of presents. Saïx stops, frozen at the surprise, and tries not to think about how the last time he actually recognized his birthday was when he had turned twenty one.
His second thought is the cake, and his eyebrows lift. "Where did you get that?"
Axel looks hurt, although Saïx knows well enough by now that it's just an act, and looks at the cake as well. "I made it," He admits, and rubs the back of his neck. He purposely doesn't make eye-contact, and Saïx is reminded of the shy ginger haired boy who took his order so long ago.
He laughs, and sheds his coat, setting it down on the back of the chair. "It's not burnt," He muses, and Axel scowls a little. The expression slips away as Saïx presses a kiss to the side of his cheek, and then turns his attention to the presents. He picks one up, and shakes it lightly, unable to hold back the slight smile that's formed across his face.
Jump back another handful of scenes, a week after Axel and Saïx have fucked- when they're still awkward and Axel's still half terrified that he's going to get kicked out because of that night.
They're both in the living room; Axel's curled up on the floor, his legs crossed Zen style and his lap is holding up the dark acoustic guitar that the red head is strumming. His head is tilted down to view the strings and the placement of his fingers as he toys with chords, experimenting with trying to decide what to fit into this song next.
Saïx is sprawled out on the couch, a book cupped in-between his hands as he leans against the arm of the couch. He's not really reading, his amber eyes are watching Axel- watching that intense, concentrated, serious expression on Axel's face that Saïx has never seen before.
It's intriguing.
"What?"
Saïx stiffens- caught, and tries his best to look composed as amber meets acidic green from across the room. Axel's smirk has painted itself across his lips again, and Saïx frowns.
"Nothing," He replies, murmured, but Axel won't let it go that easily.
The red head's eyes switch from him, to his own guitar, then back to Saïx. A light-bulb pops above his head, and the smirk softens. "Come here," He beckons simply and Saïx merely stares at him.
The bluenette hesitates, then set his book down and slides off of the couch to go to Axel. He stands over the other, and Axel frowns, gesturing for him to sit. So Saïx does, awkwardly, and looks even more awkward when Axel forces the instrument into his hands.
Saïx stares down at the guitar, and tries not to think of how stupid he probably looks. "What do you want me to do?" He asks, sourly, and looks blankly back to Axel. The red head is moving, sliding around Saïx to press his chest to the older man's back. His fingers cup Saïx's, pressing them onto the neck of the guitar. Axel, he lines up each finger, gently pressing down, and guides Saïx's hand to strum the guitar.
The cord that comes out doesn't sound hideous, and Saïx smiles, faintly. He adjusts the fingers again, and Axel makes him strum again. And again, and again.
Axel's chin is resting on Saïx's neck now, green eyes focused on their hands moving together as one, and his lips part-
"Let's talk and we'll fill the air with imagery that lasts forever.
So this is love- that's a lovely though,
You have to care for it to keep it together."
The words are quiet, and Saïx can't think of a time when he's been this close to Axel while the red head was singing before. Usually, the only time he played was in his room late at night, and if Saïx stayed quiet on his bed, he could hear the shushed murmurs of lyrics.
But now they were brushing into his ear, flowing with the soft, wary strums that Saïx himself was plucking out thanks to Axel's hands. The male shivers, and keeps his eyes down, watching their hands move from chord to chord to chord.
"If you fall will you get up?
You're stuck in a dream- will you wake up?
And if you fell in love, will you hold on to it?
And if it's cold, will you stay warm?
You drift too far, will you swim towards the shore?
And if you fell in love, will hold on to it?"
When the wedding comes around the following May, Axel shows up to play the role of best man in his snazzy black tuxedo- but he doesn't show up alone.
He's got Saïx by the hand, his fingers forcing them to hold hands in public even though he knows that such a public display of affection bothers Saïx. But Axel doesn't care.
At the reception, it's the two of them sitting side by side at the big, round white table reserved for the Bride and Groom and Best Friends. Naminè is beautiful in her silk white dress, and Roxas' smile is infectious and Axel- he doesn't feel regret.
He doesn't feel jealousy or anything at all- that smile mirroring his best friends'.
They're all laughing, toasting and tipsy and the smile on Naminè's shy face shows that she's just so fucking happy that she won't end up alone. That none of them will.
Underneath the table, Saïx's hand finds Axel's and squeezes.
A/N: ... I can't decide if I like it.
THIS WAS WRITTEN BECAUSE
there is not enough CUTE Saix/Axel out there.