I don't own the characters, just the story. Characters belong to Square Enix.
As the last drop of blood hit the floor, he knew this would be the last. But he knew – he'd be after his next prey in only a matter of hours. The thoughts never ceased, the thoughts never quit. He wiped his mouth, the last remnants of saliva splattered to his grimy hands. He knew he'd have to stop, but he'd said that before. He stood, the body laying, whimpering on the cold floor. "Sorry." He muttered, slowly pulling his trousers up. The body barely moved other than to shiver, its hands clutching its ribs. He walked away misery drenching his being. Could he really be so cruel? He'd loved these people; they were his family. And yet…
He rounded the corner of the shack, light blazing into his unadjusted eyes. He grunted, raising his hand.
"Have a good time this go? Did he scream like you wanted?" A blonde girl said, turning her gaze to his blank face. He merely grunted in response, heading to the door ahead of him. "Hey, idiot! You gotta pay! You know the rules!"
He spit on the floor, a nasty taste in his mouth. "Tell him I'll call him later." He stepped out the broken door, ignoring the girl shouting from behind him. He glanced up. It had started to rain, the darkened sky cloudy above the surely sleeping city. He glanced down at his watch. Shit, he thought, reading the face as quarter to three. I promised to be home at three. He shrugged his heavy coat over his shoulders and began his tedious walk home.
He'd been telling himself for the last three years he would change. He had come close to changing over a dozen times and every time he got close. He found him back at the shed, starting all over again. In the process, he'd managed to lose everyone: his friends, his few remaining family members, lovers, anyone close enough to be affected by his addiction. But this time… This was different. He'd finally found his chance at a life of freedom, and he wouldn't give that up for anything.
He slowly eased the door open at a quarter to four. He expected to find himself alone, the house dark and silent. But hell, who was he kidding. He knew he wouldn't have been.
The younger man sat in front of the tv, some colourful Disney movie projected on the large screen. He was curled up on the floor, a bed quilt tightly wrapped around his skinny frame. "Axey! You're late! Where were you?" He asked as he stood, sleep clearly pressed into the corners of his eyes.
The redhead sighed. He would have to lie to the younger again. "I was out, Demyx. You know that."
Demyx yawned. "Yeah, but you said you'd be back years ago! I got worried something happened."
Axel half smiled. If only the blond knew what he'd been getting into. "I know. I'm sorry I'm late. But you look exhausted. Go back to bed, okay?"
"Okay." He nodded, his feet soundlessly padding their way to their bedroom. "I love you." He called over his shoulder before shutting the door.
He chuckled to himself, flopping onto the couch. As far as the blonde knew, he was out having drinks with some of his co-workers. He knew it was wrong to lie to his boyfriend, but he couldn't help himself. Demyx was so easily fooled, a flaw Axel had noticed within minutes of meeting him. He knew he could work it to his advantage, covering his addiction with a seemingly perfect life.
Sighing, he stood, slowly moving towards their bathroom. He flicked on the light and gasped – he didn't realize in all the dim light how much blood was on his clothes. The body earlier had bled a fair bit, but he thought he'd pushed his clothes out of the way of the spray. He stripped down to his boxes and buried his clothes in the hamper. He silently moved through the adjoining door to their bedroom and crawled into the bed beside Demyx, who instantly latched onto him.
He sighed. He knew Demyx was starting to suspect something, but he needed him to stay in the dark for just a few more days. Just enough so he could come up with a plan.