Hello and welcome to my series of drabbles! There is no set length to any of them, but I promise they will at least be more than 100 words. This drabble thing will be updated as I see fit, because inspiration strikes me at the oddest times.

Title: Molten Glass

Length: 336 words

Inspiration: A neighbor's wind chime

.

.

Axel thought Roxas was beautiful, in a despairingly hollow way.

Roxas was beautiful, the way blown glass was beautiful, thin sheets of molten hot, brittle particles melding together over air, encasing empty space where something solid and alive should be. Roxas's too pale, translucent skin was stretched thinly over a vast abyss of darkness. One misstep, one mistake, and you'd shatter him, and he'd crumble into a million tiny razor shards, slashing your hand to bits even as he made a tragic mess over your once clean floor.

Because Roxas was missing some vital part of himself. Axel didn't know if he had thrown it away, or simply not been born with it. The simple matter of it was that Roxas's center was barren and desolate, letting wind whistle through his cold exterior in quiet puffs of resignation.

And yet, Axel loved Roxas, loved the way his acrid tongue made scar tissue out of his own, thumping heart, loved the way his too bright eyes could cut straight through him with a single well placed glare. He pined for days Roxas would challenge him to fight, fists flashing like failing sparks, raining down bruises upon Axel's skin like others couples might bestow hickies. He ached for nights Roxas threw him down on the sheets and pounded into him, rough and raw and bloody ('because lube is for fucking sissys,' he'd sneered as explanation once) because he could never take enough of Roxas's punishment. He'd always want more.

Perhaps the reason he swallowed the abuse like candy pills, was because he possessed what Roxas did not. He was an inferno of passion, a flame that only fed off pain and was not quenched by it. And glass, it always melted in the face of fire, didn't it? One day the fire's warmth would reach that gaping area inside the brittle glass jar. One day, just maybe one day, he could cause the glass to soften, give and twist. And on that beautiful day, Roxas would smile again, just for him.


END