Disclaimer: I don't own anything. If I did, I don't think I would honestly be here. Maybe, but it's not too probable.
AN: I'm not quite sure what inspired this. I haven't written enough stories from Axel's point-of-view, and the idea of Xigbar attempting to write real poetry amuses me. A lot. I drop the "f-bomb" once, and the "s-bomb" a few times, but hey, we all have to just let loose and go with it sometimes. Life is like that. :3
Enjoy!
--
The Motion of the Lotion in the Ocean of Potion
"Hey, Axel, gimme something that rhymes with ocean."
Axel had been certain that it was going to be a long day; he had felt it as soon as he had stepped over the threshold into the kitchen (which, he wondered, might be called the "Kitchen That Never Was." It would only make sense).
This only clinched that feeling in place.
Number Eight peered up from pouring his morning cup of coffee (the fifth one to be exact, since he had come to accept that he couldn't be with Roxas the all the time, and so had to do something to fill the void), straight at Xigbar. The Freeshooter had been sitting (and this is the weird part) silently straight across from him the whole time, actually writing, and Axel had begun to worry. Xigbar not shooting his mouth off was equivalent to Xemnas not plotting, or Saïx not being a suck-up, or Luxord not making constant gambling puns. It just wasn't natural. And then writing? The Freeshooter did not write. He punched holes in things with bullets (or whatever you might call those nifty laser-doohickeys), and did not lower himself to actually being… thoughtful.
And for a moment, Axel considered his options as to how to answer this question properly. Delicately, of course, as Xigbar had certainly lost his mind. But, of course, the caffeine had started working its charm on him, and he could already feel a smart-ass comment coming on. And before he could even stop himself, it just tumbled out.
"My, my, Two, if I'm not mistaken, it sounds like you're trying to make poetry. What's the occasion? Is it the end of the world, or did Hell actually freeze over?"
Xigbar was looking mighty pleasant today, with his greasy hair falling limp over his shoulders and his ass slumped back in the Chair That Never Was (though Axel was unsure that that was its official name), giving Eight that don't-fuck-with-me kinda glare with his single golden eye.
Then again, when wasn't the Freeshooter an absolute bundle of sunshine and rainbows?
"Why don't you shut the Hell up and just gimme something that rhymes with ocean," Xigbar quickly countered, then, as his brain started ticking, added on, "before I shoot you."
Axel shrugged and took his seat, perhaps yet another Chair That Never Was. He swore his hands had started shaking some time back.
"Oh, I don't know. Motion, potion…" Axel licked his upper lip and then added, "…Lotion."
"The Hell—lotion? That's not romantic, or ocean-y."
Axel merely grinned.
"…You can do a lot with lotion at the ocean and make it romantic, my friend, trust me," he said before taking a sip of the Black Death from his mug. Of course, Xigbar wasn't his friend. They were simply on better terms than most. Still, the phrase was appropriate, and he was certain Two wouldn't mind.
Xigbar nibbled at the end of his writing utensil (a ball-point pen, black ink, with the clicker partially chewed off; maybe it was the Pen That Never Was?) before going back to scribbling on what appeared to be a notepad. Axel decidedly set down his mug and glared at the writing. For a moment, Axel was unsure if Xigbar was writing in an actual and documented language.
"Hieroglyphics, or runes?"
A short retort:
"Shut the Hell up."
"My, we're testy today. But really, I'm intrigued; what's the writing for? And you're writing about oceans? With a romantic theme?" Axel continued on, leaning in ever closer. Perhaps, if he squinted, turned his head to the left, read it backwards, and kept one eye focused in the opposite direction, he might be able to decipher the chicken-scratch that was Xigbar's writing. He imagined that any ritual would be as good as the last. "Oh, don't tell me you've turned into one of those kinds of Nobodies who does nothing but obsess over sap-crap while wishing, oh wishing, that the heart was once more in reach, you poor thing!"
"If I tell you what I'm doing, will you just shut your trap and let me write?" Xigbar finally grumbled, flipping a strand of grey out of his eyes—er, eye.
"Please do, as it's a mystery I'm sure we'd all like solved."
"Well," Xigbar said, leaning back, examining his writing with a speculative eye, "I gotta do somethin' artsy, you know? For… someone. Who I really like. And I was thinkin', you know, poetry's nice, why not take a whack at it?"
"Because you're about as poetic as a dead parrot," Axel quickly answered. Man, this coffee was truly a gift from the gods. "Or maybe… no, the dead parrot was a good enough analogy to get across my point. But, y'know, I'm honestly thinking that maybe a dead parrot might even be more poetic than you, but I wouldn't put my money on it until I see it with my own two eyes."
Xigbar grimaced, but wasn't deterred in his thinking process, as he added a few more lines (which, to Axel, could have been stick-people doodles, and he wouldn't have known the difference) to his page.
"Well, tell me what it says. I'm sure I could add in my two cents."
"Because I'm certain that's all you got in your head," Xigbar mumbled before smacking down the pen and straightening out the page. Axel could see a few coffee-stains on it, leading him to believe that the Freeshooter may have been pulling an all-nighter on this one.
Oh boy.
"You feel it, and so do I… The emotions that surely reach to the sky… A love that dare not speak in words, but is deeper than the ocean… We cannot deny it, the waves that set us in motion…"
Xigbar paused, and as Axel rested his hand under his chin, he slapped down the paper on the table (Table That Never Was?), saying, "That's it."
Axel grinned.
"Wow, for once, you didn't sound completely illiterate," Axel commented, which, when translated into a normal compliment, would be positive.
"So, you think it's alright, so far?"
"How can an emotion reach to the sky? You've lost me there," Axel commented, peering up at the ceiling (okay, the Ceiling That Never Was. He knew this was just getting ridiculous, but he felt it necessary to label everything in his hyped-up state). He had seen many a heart floating from many a defeated Heartless into the sky, but the phrase just seemed outright… awkward to him.
Xigbar waved a hand, pointed, and then did several other gestures within the span of saying, "You're taking it too literally. It's supposed to be, like, a metaphor. A romantic metaphor. And, I mean, plenty of artists use shitty metaphors that people get all impressed about."
"Yeah, but, if you don't know what you're talking about, then why the Hell would you write in the first place?"
Xigbar took this into consideration, and then immediately went back to scratching into the paper.
"Okay, how about… The emotions that answer the question 'why'?"
Axel took another long drink. Ugh, he knew he probably should have just slept in this morning. Then he wouldn't have to be discussing poetry with, of all people, Xigbar. He feared that the man might start on "happy trees" if he wasn't looking. Xigbar just didn't strike him as a "happy tree" kinda guy.
"Too many syllables."
"It has less than what I first wrote, genius."
Axel thought it over, then realized that Two was right. Geez, the guy was actually smart when he wanted to be.
"Okay, okay, I just don't like it. Try something else."
"Fine. Uhm… The emotions that set our wings to… fly?"
Axel massaged his temple.
"Maybe you should just convert this into a haiku. It would be so much easier if you went for a haiku."
"How about you shut the Hell up and let me write it my way?"
"Alright, alright, geez," Eight said, holding up his hands (well, technically hand, as the other one was too busy gripping that coffee cup for dear life) in surrender. "Just don't ask for an opinion then get all pissy about it."
Then, after a while, "The emotions that render a deep, longing sigh."
Axel was in the middle of drowning his face in coffee, hoping that maybe it would be the elixir to drown out his muse, when he pounded the mug on the table and pointed a finger at Xigbar while swallowing the rest of the liquid.
"Yes!" he said, his voice breathy from trying to gulp down air. "Damn, that's perfect. Read it back to me."
"You feel it, and so do I… The emotions that render a deep, longing sigh… A love that dare not speak in words, but is deeper than the ocean… We cannot deny it, the waves that set us in motion…"
"…And though words fall apart…"
Xigbar's eye widened.
"You are here, in my heart."
The two stared at each other for a good, long while before Axel inhaled slowly and then said, "Dude, that is the sappiest shit ever. Write. It. Down."
Xigbar went back to scratching down the words, and with a pleased smile, the Freeshooter looked back up at the Dancer.
"Thanks, kid."
"Yeah, yeah, all in a day's work," Axel shot back, realizing that he was completely out of coffee. He stood back up and slipped to the counter for yet another refill (it's only six drinks of coffee; that's not bad… is it?).
"Well, I gotta go, Eight. I'm thinkin' that maybe Luxord or Xaldin might be able to spice this bad boy up with some extra fancy words. You have a good day, 'kay?"
Upon turning about, Axel could see that Xigbar was heading for the exit. In the doorway was the Melodious Nocturne, coming into the kitchen, looking as… Demyx-y as ever, as there's certainly no adjective to describe the aura the water-lover gave off. And as the two passed, Axel's eyebrows raised. He could certainly sense some type of sparks flying between the two of them, but for merely a moment. As soon as that second had passed, Two and Nine had walked on past one another without exchanging any sort of words.
And after Axel had replenished his mug and taken a deep gulp, and Demyx had taken a seat and begun to examine the clipboard he had carried with him to the Table That Never Was (yes, from now on, that was its name), there came a silence.
Then:
"Hey Axel, can you think of anything that rhymes with gravity?"
Yes, it was going to be a long day indeed.