This story is about cheap laughs at characters I don't own. If I ever meet the creators, I shall bake them cookies. I also don't own any references to . . . anything mentioned. I own nothing.
Axel swung the door shut and descended into his space on the couch, defeated. The kid didn't even want a welcome party. Maybe it was something he said? He took a quick glance at his watch again, throwing his head back. There were only a few hours before he had to go into work, and he already felt his energy dissipating.
He turned rigid in response to the knocking on his door.
Who could possibly have such bad timing? He sunk further into the couch, closing his eyes. He'd just sat down. Unless Roxas had a change of heart and came to pay him a surprise visit, Axel decided he wasn't going to bother getting it.
This knocking caught his eye because it was cumbersome; almost as if the person was battling with the door and losing . . . There was a miserable sigh as a middle-sized-figure slumped down to the floor.
Oh, no. Not him, Axel thought. Not now. He couldn't handle the drama. There was a faint humming that sounded like the tune to 'Heartbreak Hotel'.
"Demyx, go away." Axel raised his voice, helping the sound carry from the couch to the door. He waited for a reply.
"You make me so lonely baby . . . I get so lonely, I get so lonely I could die . . ." The man behind the door responded in song.
"You're really a piece of work." Axel made an effort to lift himself off the couch and talk into the closed door, "If I let you in, are you going to pay your half of the rent?"
Demyx stopped singing, suddenly changing moods. " . . . MY half?" He asked incredulously.
"Yeah, you leech. How long has this been going on . . . three years? You think I'm just going to let you waltz back in every time you get dumped?"
"Hey! I didn't get dumped. We BROKE. UP." Demyx exaggerated with his hands, even though there was no one to see them. He sunk into a bout of self-pity. "But--- yeah. Yeah, I know. It's always my fault." there was something akin to a sob.
Axel was tired of the crocodile tears. He opened the door sharply, and Demyx tripped over himself trying to get his balance back from leaning against it. He snapped back, straight as a tulip tree.
Clearly a musician, the dirty blonde's guitar was slanted against the opposite wall next to a worn rectangle box suitcase. The edges looked as if they'd been chewed off and it was mended by duct tape in several areas. Demyx's clothes weren't in any better shape. He smiled pitifully at Axel's sigh.
"Look. I'll let you stay for as long as you want. You just have to pull your weight."
With a halfhearted nod, Demyx's silence seemed to indicate he understood. Axel was right, after all.
The two of them went far back. Once lovers; Now . . . well, their present relationship was different depending on whom you asked. To make a long story short, even though they were crazy about each other, as a couple, they drove each other insane. The two of them had a mutual resolution that they would simply be good friends to prevent themselves from ripping each other's heads off. Since then, Demyx seemed to have gone and screwed through enough men to make an army, 'as is the fate of the rising star' he would say, casually.
Rebound after rebound.
Axel was sure he'd be gone by tomorrow and back within the week. As long as his friend paid part of the rent, it was fine with him. They say people will keep making the same mistakes until they learn from them. Demyx was a very serious case of the engine that couldn't.
Axel, on the other hand, simply 'wouldn't'. Since then, despite putting on flirtatious airs, he hadn't been so quick to bring himself to commit to a relationship again. In all truth, he was jealous of how fast the musician was able to heal.
"So . . . come on in. You can get dinner ready or something." Axel suggested, turning his attention around.
Suddenly he was caught from behind by a quick squeeze around his waist. "Thanks." The hug was gone as soon as it came.
Axel turned back in surprise, watching the musician as he took up his things and walked in to put them in the usual place. The gesture seemed more like a goodbye than a hello; but it was impossible to read Demyx sometimes. He wanted to say something, but it seemed like the moment was stolen away.
"Do you have vegetable oil? Or meat?" Demyx tore around the kitchenette, the sound of opening cupboards clashing with Axel's inner monologue.
"I have sliced turkey," Axel offered, adding, "I wasn't expecting company."
The musician sighed to himself, "You should always expect company," he advised, his limited assets spreading over the countertop.
"Well, meat doesn't cook itself." Axel snorted, "And my company could CALL first."
This comment invoked little or no response as Demyx made quick work of utilizing the materials he found.
"You need to go shopping." Demyx extended a peanut butter sandwich to his host, and then started making one for himself.
"Actually, I just did." Axel said, grabbing the potato chip bag and popping it open. He caught the underlying meaning. If Demyx wanted to eat fancy, he was going to have to do that part on his own . . .like always.
Axel leaned his arm against the kitchenette counter and threw a potato chip into the fish tank. It floated, and the lone fish swam up to nibble at it. Axel watched as it took a huge chunk out of the thing that was as big as he was.
"Still feeding the fish weird things?" Demyx hopped up on the counter and took a bite out of his sandwich, looking at the fish as though they had a score to settle.
The redhead laughed.
"You should know better than me; The Fishinator eats everything." Axel reminded him, tapping on the glass affectionately. He actually didn't even like fish. But this guy was kind of cool because it ate all of Demyx's other fish. Axel had adopted it when Demyx disowned it.
Of course Demyx had tried to exact his revenge; unplugging the filter, poisoning the tank with various alcoholic beverages, boiling the tank on the stove . . . but the thing was indestructible. It was then Axel threw away Demyx's initial name for it, Spawn of Satan, and started calling it The Fishinator.
They continued eating, and Demyx brought his ankle up on top of his thigh to pick at the torn edges of his jeans.
Axel asked about the band, because he'd noticed DHMO's (1) album was selling, and a few people called in occasionally to request his songs. Even as they grew apart, they could always connect on the level of music. Demyx talked about the album, but shied away from the questions about his band and asked about Axel's radio show.
They talked a long time.
Because it was Axel, he couldn't help noticing that something was different about Demyx. He'd gotten that sort of feeling since he walked in the door. There was a fleeting sense Axel had about it actually being something that changed about himself that Demyx was reacting to, but he couldn't get a good hold on that theory. If it were something important, Demyx would bring it up, anyway. He was good about mentioning important things, and then refusing to talk about them.
"Well," Axel excused himself from dinner, "In case you decide to go to sleep before I get back, the couch is all yours."
"Where are you going?" The dirty blonde questioned through a sticky mouthful. Demyx was on his fourth sandwich. At least his appetite was one thing that hadn't changed.
". . . work. I'm going to change," is all Axel said as he strode towards his room, rubbing the back of his neck.
The first thing about Axel in relation to his room was, unlike Demyx, Axel wasn't your stereotypical bachelor slob. He was born and raised in an upright city family where his single mother had him make the bed every morning and vacuum the apartment once a week. His inbred cleanliness and stinginess would have made his room boring save for the rock music posters that lined the walls and ceiling. The only part of wall that wasn't covered was his window, which Axel didn't like to close unless it was cold. He was very sensitive to the cold.
And the radio studio always had the air conditioning on, which meant cargos this thin probably wouldn't do the trick. He unzipped his fly.
----xxx-----
"Yeah. I thought a lot about what you said, Namine . . ." Roxas held the receiver in one hand and the part that was supposed to go on the wall in the other.
"Well I don't know; that's the thing. But I do know I still care about you." He maneuvered the phone cord clumsily around the unopened boxes that littered the floor of his white-walled apartment, finally sitting down on his bed, which stuck out from the rest of the apartment, because it was the only thing that looked complete. ". . .you mean Axel?"
Roxas made a look of disgust, "No! I don't want him around." He suddenly let his head fall back and hit the wall behind his bed. ". . .Well, if he's trying to help, he's terrible at it. Whose side are you on, anyway?"
He let his eyes wander around the room as he tried to listen and take her feelings into consideration. It was hard when she seemed to be defending a person she didn't even know.
Suddenly Roxas stopped listening entirely as his eyes fell outside his window, to the apartment across the way.
"Namine, hold on. . ." The blond covered the bottom of the receiver with his hand as he walked closer, his mouth agape.
The last person he wanted to see was two meters away from him, and looked like he was wandering around in his boxers.
Roxas unclenched his sweaty hand from the phone and held it close to his head in a guttural whisper that teetered on the edge of insanity.
"Sorry, I'll call you back later."
----xxx----
Axel couldn't find his pants.
Even after pacing several times, in the end, he had to pick his second choice pair out of the laundry pile. He smelled it curiously---not exactly sweet as a rose. Axel walked back to the window. Maybe he'd put on the ones he had before.
There was a gust of wind and he shivered, turning to the window.
He gripped the sides of it to close it, but then looked out.
Through the cage of the fire escape he saw a face through the window on the other building bright red in anger, looking at him with such hatred it radiated in waves. That spiky blonde head. . . the apartment building next door. . . and if looks could kill. . .
"Roxas? No fucking way---" Axel stuck his head out the window to get a better look at the phenomenon.
"Axel you---" Roxas started, voice raised.
"You don't have to yell. I can hear you just fine. Wow. Never noticed how close these buildings were before." Axel snickered, fully aware of their situation . . . and loving it. The last guy who lived across from him had unflatteringly hairy armpits that usually provided a harbor for good healthy chunks of speed stick stuck under there when he raised his arms in the morning. Not to mention the hairy ass crack. Axel grimaced thinking about it.
But with Roxas living there, not only was he going to hopefully get some ice candy . . .he meant eye candy. Or ice cream. Or both. Or Roxas eating ice cream. That would be good too. Either way, the summer had just gotten a whole lot more interesting.
"Why are you here!" Roxas raised his voice louder to spite him.
"Me?" Axel asked rhetorically, "What about YOU? I've lived here for four years; since I was your age. Specifically, why am I here right now? Apparently to give you a strip tease. How long have you been watching?"
Roxas' eyes widened and without thinking wandered down to Axel's lack of pants. He wondered if the redhead always undressed with the window open . . . NOT for THAT reason. It was indecent, and he hoped he would never have to see something like that again. Well, not intentionally again--- gah! Roxas closed his eyes and shook his head.
"I haven't, I mean. . . I wouldn't! You're awful!"
"I'm awful. Who's the one looking a gift horse in the mouth? I don't mind if you peek a little. . ." Axel stuck out his tongue mischievously and let a hand wander down to the edge of his shirt.
He tugged at the edge near his waist as his other hand snaked up his chest, exposing an excruciatingly small portion of skin. Axel, enjoying the horrified look on Roxas' face, turned to the side seductively, taking the top of his t-shirt between his teeth. He started pulling off his shirt veerrry slowly.
"Axeeel?" A voice teased from behind.
Axel turned around innocently, his T-shirt hanging out of his mouth like a dog caught in the act of chewing something he wasn't supposed to.
Demyx laughed, crossing his arms. "You playing with the webcam again?"
The redhead spat out his T-shirt, taking it off normally, "Oh, please. That was such a long time ago. . ." He picked up a clean shirt and slipped it on. He also put on the pants he was wearing before.
Roxas hadn't heard the full conversation, but he had heard there was someone there even though brain wasn't functioning on some of its higher levels. . . something about Axel's bare chest. He blinked, regaining some sense of self.
"Who was that?" he asked quickly, trying to mask his discomfort.
"Huh?" Axel turned back to the window.
"That person . . .?"
"What, jealous?" Axel teased.
"What? No! He's your boyfriend then?" Roxas steadied himself with a twisted smile that was anxious to exact revenge. ". . . Does he know you cheat on him?"
"Oh, yes. I cheat on my boyfriends all the time," Axel spun the yarn as long as Roxas would sew it, "At least I don't hide my sexuality from my girlfriend." The redhead left from sight of the window, as he was done changing.
"Axel!" Roxas yelled after him angrily.
"Sorry," Axel popped his head back, "Forgot you weren't gay."
He wandered back away from view. Demyx smiled, still crossing his arms in the doorway.
"So who's this person you're cheating on me with? I think I have a right to know." The dirty blonde joked smugly. Axel turned and in passing, threw his dirty shirt in the musician's face.
"You. . . just. . . shut up."
Demyx sighed and watched him leave the apartment. It was a mystery to him why his friend didn't just . . . let himself be happy.
Axel took the subway to the radio studio every weeknight. He had his own office. Very fancy-like. They asked him what he wanted on his manager door plaque when he was promoted and offered the job. His new door now flashed a triumphant "Mr. Axel" immortalized in brass. The room was littered with records and file papers, posters and T.V. dinner wrappers. A signed DHMO poster of Demyx lying with revealing clothes in a rather enticing pose hung on the wall. When they were together, he and Axel joked the band had taken that picture from their collection of sex photographs. Uh. . . not that there were very many of those, of course. And he'd long since burned them. One of the things he'd enjoyed burning the least in his life.
The actual room where they broadcasted from wasn't much larger, but they had room for what they needed.
Axel was early. His show started at eleven. He stood in the waiting room and looked through the glass at the only other person in their section of the building----a fairly new addition to the radio team doing her routine. Axel had hired her, actually. She was in the middle of some sort of Jazz mixed program. She looked nervous so Axel played some charades with her through the glass during song time to loosen her up a bit.
Coming out of the program, Axel patted the new member on the back. He walked in quickly and took up the headphones, sitting down next to the mike like an old friend.
-----xxxx-----
It was 11:13 when Roxas looked at the clock. He'd lost track of time while doing his homework. Extending an arm to the far end of his desk, he switched his stereo to the radio. The familiar deep, animated voice came over his speakers.
"----was a little something to heat us up. You all know it and love it. That was The Doors with 'Light My Fire'. Look outside folks. If you're in the city area, seems like it's going to be raining here, so if you're going on a late night escapade, wear a poncho. Possibly a sweater. Otherwise, stay with us. I'll be keeping it hot all night. This is Alex Flame, and you're listening to James Taylor."
Roxas knew what the station was playing before the song even came on. Alex Flame's regular listeners didn't need him to tell them the name. He always played 'Fire and Rain' to welcome these kinds of nights. Sometimes he even made them listen to the rain for a couple of minutes, which was actually kind of soothing. Roxas put down his pencil and looked to the window where the rain was growing steadily stronger.
Namine. . .
Was he really so cold? All his life, he'd been accused of his lack of passion for things. His heart was never in anything. And when it came to relationships, well . . . he guessed it would be the same thing.
And it was, until Axel showed up.
In relationships, he realized now, you were supposed to feel something . . . even if you weren't passionate about anything else. He knew that when he'd kissed Axel. It seemed impossible that this one guy, by being the most infuriating person Roxas ever met, was able to make him more emotional than he'd ever been.
Roxas listened to the radio late into the night. It was two in the morning when the college student fell asleep studying in his chair, his head on his math textbook. It was alright because he'd fallen asleep on that page already and the drool marks would camouflage themselves. And it wasn't a restless sleep because of the soothing voice that talked to him into the morning.
----xxxx-----
Axel opened his eyes in a murderous daze. He was strangling a pillow. In his dream it had been a giant lobster, but he didn't remember that bit.
The only thing that penetrated his skull was the piercing voice of someone singing. Singing LOUDLY . . . in his apartment. He didn't care who the hell they thought they were, no one could get away with waking him up at (Axel glanced at the clock) ten am! Okay, that's it. There was hell to pay . . . in fire and brimstone and anything else Axel believed he could summon while he was still in the world of the undead.
Axel rose from his grave, hair standing on all ends like a deranged porcupine. Singing, singing---- Freddy Mercury? Bastard Freddy Mercury in his apartment. Probably tried to feel him up in his sleep, serenading him with scaramouches and moustaches. Axel wondered briefly in his stupor whether a scaramouche was actually a type of moustache and whether or not he could shove one down the throat of whoever was singing.
As Axel neared the source of the racket, he realized that Freddy Mercury was in his shower.
'. . .Ready Freddy?' Axel thought murderously, bursting open his bathroom door. Immediately he grabbed his heavy-duty, bristles-that-kill hairbrush from the counter and raised it up.
"Stop! Singing! I will make you EAT that moustache so help me----" The singing stopped and Axel lowered his weapon. He raised his eyebrows blankly over half-lidded eyes, "----Demyx?"
"Axel?" Demyx pulled aside a corner of the cloudy-clear shower curtain brightly. His face lit up between the now brown hairs sticking to the edges of his face, "Hey! Come to join me?"
"NO! You woke me UP!" Axel scowled, scratching his hair with his free hand, "No more singing!"
"But the water's fine. It'll make you feel better." Demyx added, smiling.
"You see this?" Axel pointed to his face with the hairbrush dramatically, "This is the face of someone who has had three hours of sleep thanks to you."
"Then go back to sleep." The musician suggested.
"I think I WILL." Axel turned around and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. He let the hairbrush slip lazily onto the floor as he reached his bed, and crawled back in. Axel sighed in relief as he lay down and pulled up the covers contentedly.
There was a loud rapping on front door. "Axel! RENT!"
A spiky red pulled itself under the sheets, plugging its ears with the corners of his quilt. It was just a bad nightmare, that's all. It would go away.
"I hear your water running, Axel! I know you're here! I will EVICT you, if you don't come to the door right NOW."
Axel sat up, letting the sheets fall around him, and glaring like death. This was all Demyx's fault. He got out of bed, and headed for the bathroom, stepping on his hairbrush on the way and cursing under his breath.
He limped to the bathroom door, peeking in and steadying his voice, "Demyx I need your half of the money . . ."
" . . . it's a gas. Grab that cash with both hands and make a stash." (2) Demyx completed Axel's sentence in song, "What do you need it now, for?"
"There's a madwoman at the door." Axel said, tired as all hell.
"Check in my guitar case. The third folder in on the front pocket."
"Thanks." Axel shut the door. He grabbed the envelope with the check he'd received from work . . . three hours ago.
There was some more knocking.
"Hold your panties! I'm coming!" Axel yelled the jumbled colloquialism as he fished Demyx's share from his guitar case.
The redhead opened the door sluggishly, thinking about his warm and comfy bed. The one he wasn't sleeping in.
"Well, look who decided to show up." Larxene squinted reproachfully at the mess in front of her. She snatched the only thing in front of her that she didn't disapprove of. Flipping through Demyx's cash, she reached Axel's check. It was endorsed to her. And it even covered both months.
Larxene sighed, disappointed there was nothing to criticize, "Well it seems you've managed to survive another month. Somehow." She turned to leave.
"Yeah. Uh . . . Toodles." Axel blanked, shut the door and slinked back to bed.
(1) I heard this in a joke once. DHMO stands for Dihydrogen Monoxide, which stands for 2 Hydrogens and 1 Oxygen, which stands for H2O.
(2) Pink Floyd: "Money"
A/N: You guys are awesooome! I hope this chapter didn't suck too much. My brain has been fried by the World Cup. Woot! Soccer! Go watch. But first!
Review?
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