A is for Asphalt
When Axel's eyes cracked open, greens peaking through red lashes to squint due to the sun, the first thing he did was roll over and throw an arm over his face to block it out. He wiggled his other arm out from under himself to sweep it across the space next to him, expecting to be met with a warm body. The sheet-wrinkled limb was dragged over the space, finding nothing, before he sat up and glared at the empty pillow next to its twin. Sleep-crusted eyes flicked around the room, before finally settling on the figure standing outside, leaning against the balcony railing while the door hung wide open. He scanned the other's bare shoulders, the Italian morning sun making the cling-film covering a new tattoo shine blindingly against tan skin and dandelion hair. Dainty - too dainty for a male really, Axel liked to joke that he must have been female prior to their meeting - fingers flicked cigarette ash into the street below before bringing the cancer stick to chapped lips and inhaling, ribs standing prominent as his lungs expanded for the toxic chemicals to make themselves home. As he finished his cigarette, Axel watched him flick the butt, stare out around him, then hoist himself up and over the railing, disappearing from view.
When the startled shrieks from passers-by indicated Roxas meeting the asphalt below, the redhead blinked, before letting out a sigh and muttering about selfishness as he flopped back into the choking embrace of his bed.
A/N: So I wanted to start an alphabet challenge-esque thing, and this is A. I wrote this in the middle of an essay on Macbeth, so that's why it's actually pretty weird.
The rest of the alphabet may be around this length, but most of what I've done so far is longer.
Anyway.
Hey.