Violating Reality
They had no hearts to be broken. Maybe that's why both of them had no problems breaking everything else. AkuRoku.
Author's note: Just another fic that's been thoroughly revised and relocated from my old account.
There was something about Axel that pushed Roxas to his limits. Nothing would stop the goddamn redhead from wanting to do something, anything, to get as close to the boy as possible. It pissed Roxas off. It messed with Roxas' head. It splintered, shattered and smashed Roxas' wayward intentions from the start. And Axel didn't really care that it was damaging, crushing, killing them both slowly on the inside. Figuratively speaking, of course. The boy knew they had no hearts—no way to feel and no way to suffer. The agony and torture was a false counterfeit that only seemed to fuel and provoke something else.
They were both nigh passionless. But hell, no matter how many times the blond tried to drill it into Axel's head in that cold, merciless tone he usually reserved for him, the redhead still tried. He still fucking tried.
Axel didn't give two shits about that. Heartless or not, if he couldn't get emotionally involved in Roxas' non-life, he was damn well going to get involved in as physical a way as possible.
From the start, Roxas had blatantly ignored—even spurned—the redhead's advances. He brushed it off (those depraved, wanton touches and deliberately painful caresses that scorched his skin right off), using violence if necessary. But he knew that aggression and brutality was exactly what the other wanted. And then, a few months down the road and they were using each other. Using each other to vent anger and frustration and dissatisfaction and everything else that gnawed at their conscience. Not that they were supposed to feel these things.
No. But they did, and they didn't understand.
They fought and struggled often enough to have battle scars that would never heal, sadistically deep marks on exposed skin marred by fingernails and teeth, raw wounds that served as keepsakes and reminders of how pathetic they were.
It would come without any warning. One of them would approach the other in the dead of the night and assault them, usually while the other was asleep. And in no time, keyblades would strike chakrams with deafening screeches and showers of sparks and both would be snarling at each other and yelling nonsensical words that were meant to make some kind of sense.
It was meaningless and maybe a little stupid. But it kept them both on edge when everyone else was dead to the world. It kept them both on their feet and alive, whilst they knew they were steadily destroying themselves.
It was compensation.
And even as Axel would push and shove and finally yank the boy's head up viciously by his hair and Roxas would smash his mouth against the man's feverish lips and suck and bite down hard, they would feel themselves dying, giving pieces of their mind, soul and body to each other.
And then, close to the beginning of their exodus, their nightly fights came to an abrupt stop when Roxas let slip that he was leaving.
It was just a short statement that held no merit in that emotionless, distant voice, only a lot more softer than Axel had ever remembered hearing it.
I'm leaving, Axel. I need to fucking leave this place.
And that was it. In that excruciating moment, the searing fire dancing around them had died in an instant, leaving behind neon embers and powdery ashes of the once-intact curtains of Roxas' room swirling around them like a mockery of shimmering glitter and inky grey rain. It was all silence, apart from Roxas' heavy breathing. Oathkeeper lay on the ground and Oblivion was clutched loosely in his right hand. His left felt mangled and broken and sore with wounds inflicted by flames and jagged spires.
And Axel had stared blankly at Roxas, a trickle of stark crimson blood sliding down his forehead where Oblivion had sliced through pale skin. And Roxas couldn't even look him in the eyes after that. It was the longest minute that the boy had ever endured. He didn't even know why he felt like tearing at the place where his heart was meant to be. He wanted to claw at his chest because it ached so bad. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he knew that if Axel had a heart, he would probably have shattered it into a billion blood-drenched pieces with those words he had so callously let out.
The redhead had stormed out of the room shortly after, flinging a chakram at Roxas' head.
And that was probably the last physical fight they ever had that ended in neither of them winning.
It was the final step to killing them completely.
And still, they felt nothing. Even though it had left Roxas broken and sobbing on his bedroom floor and Axel shattered, defeated and torn apart at the seams.
Author's note: And silently, the bluebird sings while the fishes drown.