A loud pounding made me choke on the whiskey burning down my throat. Snarling to myself I slammed the fifth down on my coffee table, hoping in the back of my mind that either item of glass would shatter, no such luck. Stumbling, on my way to drunk, I made it to my door and ripped it open.
"What!" I spat.
Zexion raised an eyebrow at my viciousness as well as his hands in appeasement. I glared at my best friend, not remotely in the mood to deal with him.
"Are you trying to send yourself into early liver failure?" He asked sardonically, unfazed by my current temperament. It was not the first, nor would it be the last time I was this volatile.
"Fuck you." I snapped.
I would have slammed the door in his face if it would have done any good, except the bastard was more stubborn than me even. Instead, I spun on my heel wobbling a bit and threw myself back onto the sagging couch. Zexion followed quietly closing the door for me. I felt his eyes, which to my antagonized and inebriated brain felt like judging, as I lit up a smoke and took another long drag off my bottle.
"Jesus, Axel." He said softly.
I grunted and titled my head back against the couch, watching the ceiling fan spin lazy circles with small clicks every few seconds. He crossed to sit on the mangled recliner next to the battered old television with one broken rabbit ear, hideously outdated as the thing was. Zexion knew better than to be within reach of me at the moment.
"I'm fine." I grumbled, the furious heat that had built up loosing steam in his calm presence.
"I'm not going to dignify that with a true response . . . have you heard from him?" Zexion kept his tone quiet and thoughtful.
My head snapped down to pin him with hard eyes and a grimace.
"Did you really just fucking ask me that?" I said through gritted teeth.
He leaned back with a sigh and crossed his arms.
"Only because he still has things here in your apartment that I assumed he would want back." Zexion explained patiently.
"He can have the ashes if it would please him." I responded with heavy sarcasm.
Slate eyebrows rose in disbelief, he really shouldn't be surprised after seven years though.
"You already burned everything?"
"It's not like it was important!" I snapped refusing to feel guilty. He was the fucker that had cheated. All I did was watch with blistering satisfaction as sordid clothing items, dvds and maybe one of his skateboards he had forgotten in the back of the closet disintegrate thanks to a zippo. It was anger I felt at not being able to get at his most prized possessions, he had moved almost all his stuff out before bothering to tell me he was fucking someone else. Bastard knew me too well.
Something itchy stung the back of my eyes that had to be smoke from the cigarette clung between my lips. I refused to consider I was actually hurt more than pissed off. Zexion frowned minutely.
"Would you like me to call Saix?" He asked with small hesitance.
Abruptly, the hatred burning my veins congealed into hard bitterness and burnt loathing. I shook my head, gelled spikes swaying with the harsh movement.
"It's not worth it." I whispered, afraid that any louder volume would have me screaming my throat raw without consent.
Zexion sensed that the worst of my anger had passed and moved to sit next to me with easy grace. I threw my feet onto the coffee table and busied myself with my, mostly empty now, bottle of alcohol. I didn't want to read the sympathy (worse than pity) in his face.
"He deserves it." He said after a few moments.
I nodded in response but didn't say anything else. Of course the little shit deserved it. Who cheats on their boyfriend? For months without qualms and then up and one day admits it, then moves in with said slut. My pulse raced again with my thoughts but I forced it back with more alcohol.
"You are worth it Axel." Zexion pressed, small emotion leaking into his normally impassive voice.
I chuckled bitterly, without humor. Sure I was. This was not the first time I had been cheated on, actually the third. Clearly I was a piece of shit undeserving of a decent lover but hey, life's a bitch right? Zexion noted my reaction and I knew he could decipher my thoughts. I wasn't the happiest person around on a good day. He pursed his lips but didn't continue trying to make me feel better, knowing it was futile. This was why we were best friends, he knew when to back the hell off when others only insisted on pushing and proving their point. It was selfish to try and make someone listen to your opinion.
He silently stood and went into the kitchen, I heard glass clinking and my oven beeping. He returned with two glasses and a timer set for the pizza. He poured a small amount of the leftover whiskey into the glasses and grabbed the remote by our feet, flipping on something mindless. He let me stew in my dark thoughts in peace, his ever silent company a small comfort next to me.
Hours later, in the wee morning after more liquor had been found and consumed, cigarettes smoked and pizza long since digested, I lay with my head in my best friend's lap, his fingers stroking soothingly. I could feel welcome unconsciousness calling to me, my head still full of the day's awful events. I blinked against the glare of the television in the otherwise dark room, then closed the weighted lids and let myself slip away. The last thing I felt was Zexion pressing a feathery light kiss against my temple.
Had a total shit day and I needed to vent. I apologize for the lack of length.