Inspi'Song: Earthquake by The Used

Love is No Desire

Way #32: "If you were a handful of genital crabs,

I'd never change my underwear."

Demyx had noticed a difference in his friend's behavior. Less 'house calls', more brooding, longer showers—Demyx knew these symptoms, however long ago it had been since the last time they'd appeared. Someone had wormed their way under his skin, the dirty blond-haired man knew it, and after watching his roommate mope through narrowed marine-colored eyes, Demyx decided he'd had enough.

"Who is it?" he asked over lasagna and salad in the calm of evening. When the other male attempted to change the subject, Demyx scoffed. "Come off it, Axel, I'm not blind. I know what it means when I'm stuck with cold water, and the heater isn't broken." Axel was quiet for a minute as Demyx patiently chewed on his lettuce.

"I don't want to want him, Dem.," the redhead finally murmured, "He's supposed to want me, and I'm supposed to not give a flying fuck." He poked at the meat sauce leaking from between melted cheese and pasta sheets miserably. "It's all backwards. He tries to leave me when we're done and I pull him back before I can stop myself because I don't want to watch him go."

"It's been a while, Ax," Demyx replied, "Of course you don't want it. Especially after—"

"I don't want to fucking hear about it," Axel cut him off, sharp green eyes fixed on his fork, stabbing into the soft clusters of ground beef repeatedly, "There's no way I'd let it turn out like that. He's just some kid, anyways." Another particularly vicious stab. "There's nothing special about him."

"Really? Nothing at all?"

"Nothing."

"He sounds pretty special to me."

"He's nothing!" Demyx fell silent as Axel slammed his hands down onto the table and rose, his chair clattering to the linoleum. Without another word, he grabbed his coat and keys and all but fled from the loft. Demyx stared at the door.

Less 'house calls', more brooding, longer showers, and abrupt outbursts of emotion.

Well. It sure sounded like love to him.

"Axel? In love? No fucking way." Demyx chewed on a fingernail before answering.

"He is! There've been long showers!" he insisted. The platinum blonde sitting across the table from him raised an eyebrow.

"So it's that bad, huh?" she muttered, sipping at her Styrofoam cup. "It's been a while."

"I know; that's what I said!" Demyx agreed, "You're his sister, Larx, his own flesh and blood. You've got to help me out."

"With what? I think it's better just to leave it. We can't let him suck himself down again."

"But, Larxene…"

"Listen, kid," Larxene said evenly, "I get that you care about Axel, but you're leaving a huge factor out of the equation. More than one, actually."

"And what's that?"

"First off," Demyx's visitor began, "He's a whore. He has sex for money, and not because he need the cash, but because he wants to. Secondly, he became a whore just because he wanted to forget—"

"Yeah, I know that part," Demyx said sadly.

"Thirdly, by offering your assistance in nabbing this elusive, Mopey-Axel incurring bitch, you're killing my brother's pride. Not just as a whore, Demyx, but as a man. If he wants this guy's ass bad enough, he'll get it."

"But the showers…"

"Yeah, the showers are serious." She sipped thoughtfully at the coffee in her hands. "Let's figure out who the bitch is first."

"Sounds like a plan. I knew you'd come around."

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