gin and sin
chapter nine
don't it always seem to go
that you don't know what you've got till it's gone
big yellow taxi - joni mitchell
"Hayner, Hayner let go of me!"
Laughing, the taller boy tugged Roxas along, ignoring his protests. Twelve years old, the both of them, and a new family had moved in on Hayner's street. His mother had insisted that both boys go over and greet them – after all, they had a child around their age. A new friend.
They slowed down as their feet clapped against the walkway to the house. "Should we just go in?" asked Hayner, biting at his lips. They were covered in a thick layer of chapstick. Hayner's mother was the doting type, and she always made sure to make him smother the stuff on before even daring to let him go outside.
Roxas glowered. He was still angry because Hayner had interrupted him while he was reading. He hated it when people did that. It was hard to concentrate already, without the added distractions. The shorter blonde simply rang the doorbell, ignoring Hayner's words. In mere moments, the door was opened and Roxas found himself facing a short, brown-haired girl with a fresh patch of acne on her forehead.
"Um, hi," she murmured, glancing at both of them. Hayner's nose wrinkled. It was obvious he'd been expecting the person to be a guy. Being less mature than Roxas, at the age of twelve, he wasn't really interested in girls yet. He would've rather had someone to play video games with.
The blonde swallowed thickly. "Hi… you're new here, right?" The girl nodded, opening the door further to display piles of boxes behind her.
"Yeah. I'm Olette." She gave a half-smile, letting both of the boys wander inside. They didn't bother taking off their shoes, as Olette was still wearing hers. The house was a little bit run-down (Hayner said it was built in the 70's), and Roxas almost wondered why Olette and her family had even bothered moving here.
When Roxas didn't speak, Hayner stepped in. "Yeah, yeah. I'm Hayner, this is Roxas, and we're gonna go back to my house and do, y'know, boy stuff." Olette blinked in confusion. This Hayner kid acted more like an eight year old than a preteen.
"Can I come?" asked the tiny brunette, eyes hopeful. She hadn't really made any friends yet. Hayner's nose wrinkled again in that typical fashion, but Roxas gave him a light push, telling him to back off.
Nodding, the blonde murmured, "Sure. We were gonna go play shooter games." Olette immediately brightened.
"Oh, which ones? I love shooters!" She formed her hands into a little gun and pretended to shoot Hayner in the head. Cue nose wrinkling. "Me and my dad used to play Goldeneye on my N64 all of the time, but ever since the PS2 came out, we haven't played it recently."
Hayner looked confused. The girls at his school didn't like video games. At least, the ones that he knew. Then again, he didn't talk to many girls. "Oh, uh, then, you can come over." Olette grinned, wanting to hug Hayner or Roxas, but knowing she'd probably freak both of them out.
"So, let's go then," grumbled Roxas, eternal scowl fixed in place. He turned, slumping out the door looking angry as ever. Olette called a quick goodbye to her father, who was unloading boxes in the kitchen, and followed after Roxas.
Hayner decided that she wasn't so bad, then.
She was horrible.
After she continually kicked his ass at various shooter games, and then the snowboarding game SSX Tricky, Hayner thoroughly disliked her, and he'd wrinkled his nose to the point where he looked like a pug dog.
Roxas laughed, for once. Olette was the coolest girl he'd ever met.
It was hard to keep up with Axel's long stride when the older boy was determined to go somewhere. Roxas almost had to jog to follow him, though, his heart wasn't really in it. The week was a blur to him. He hadn't gone to school for most of it, either. He'd spent the last two days getting high with Hayner, trying to turn his head into pleasant sludge, to forget what had happened. In fact, Hayner had encouraged him to forget, to let go, to just think. After all, it was Hayner who was covering for him – Roxas had told Tia he was spending the night at the other boy's house.
He hadn't even tried talking to Olette. He hadn't seen her around, either, but Pence told him that she wasn't doing too great. Two years wasted. Two fucking years wasted because I decided to let a junkie into my house. Even more, four years of friendship wasted. Olette had said she'd wanted to stay friends, but it would be awkward.
So awkward.
And now, trudging after Axel on the way to some party he hadn't even heard about, Roxas felt dead. Virtually dead. Part of him wanted to throw something at Axel, but the red head was actually trying to cheer him up, somewhat. Upon seeing Roxas in his depressed state, Axel's brutal personality had eased up. He made a point not to come home to Roxas if he was fucked on cocaine.
Turning his head, Axel stared back at his little blonde friend. "Hurry up. You're fuckin' slow," he grumbled. Reaching out a hand, he clamped shaky fingers around Roxas's arm, pulling the boy up to him. The two walked in time, now, Roxas with his eyes on the ground. He couldn't even think straight. Maybe getting drunk would be a good idea.
At least they were in a better part of town. Not the greatest, but better than the sleaze-ball trash house with the gay cowboy, cotton-candy man and his not so friendly giant. He could already hear the steady thrum of bass from a nearby house. His stomach sunk. I want to go home.
"Hey, Stumpy, don't worry. You'll have fun, get smashed, maybe find a pretty girl to stick your dick in," grumbled the red head, mood somewhat foul due to Roxas's quiet nature. He knew the kid had just lost his girlfriend, but he honestly didn't care. There were always other people out there to fill the void.
Roxas frowned. "Just shut up about it, okay?" He sighed, bringing one cold hand up to cradle his forehead. He already had a headache. He honestly didn't know how long he'd last at a party, or rave, or whatever the fuck Axel had invited him to.
Rolling his eyes, Axel let go of the blonde's arm. "Fine. Just walk faster."
It was Olette's fourteenth birthday party. She was ecstatic, surrounded by laughing, happy people who were all glad to be there. Roxas was still as grumpy as ever, lingering in the corner, watching as she flirted with other boys. Pence sat beside her, cheery, writing down which gift she got from who. There were at least thirty people there, family members (which was virtually only her father and grandmother), friends (the majority of them, male), and people who knew Olette from around the neighborhood. She was quite a popular girl.
Hayner sidled up to Roxas, elbowing him in the stomach. "You're not havin' fun. Why?" Brown eyes widened as Roxas almost growled.
"Go away, Hayner. Not in the mood," he muttered, keeping his arms crossed. Hayner's eyes narrowed, and he turned to fully face the younger boy. He liked the fact that he could finally stare down at Roxas. Growth spurts were fun.
Poking Roxas in the chest, Hayner stated; "You used to have fun at Olette's birthday parties. Cheer up or something." Roxas's scowl only deepened, and he turned his eyes away. Hayner sighed, running his hand through the wiry mess of hair on top of his head. "I know there are a lot of people here, Roxas, but it's Olette's day to be happy. You can't just ignore her."
"Screw you. I can do whatever I want," grumbled the blonde, pushing away from the wall, and away from Hayner. He made his way out the back door, slumping into a patio chair to glare at the ground. Summer time weather was always the best, but Roxas didn't even want to be in the sun. July 21st. Olette's birthday.
He didn't even hear her approach. "Hi, Roxas." Jumping out of the chair, he turned around to face her, eyes wide. Olette smiled, looking a little bit timid.
"Er… hi." He hadn't even really gotten the chance to talk to her, so far. She'd been busy entertaining guests, receiving presents, eating cake. Her best friend Clayton, being the arrogant bastard that he was, had hogged most of her time. When Clayton was around, Olette barely even got to talk to Roxas or Hayner or Pence.
Olette's smile changed to a small frown. "Aren't you forgetting to say something?" she inquired, linking her hands behind her back. Roxas stared at her stupidly for a moment, before rolling his eyes at his own forgetfulness.
"Happy birthday."
Olette smiled again, and he forced himself to smile back. "I got your gift. You suck at buying presents for girls." She giggled, and Roxas wondered what he'd done wrong. Olette had specifically said she'd wanted Grand Theft Auto: Vice City. "That's why you're a good present-buyer for me!"
He sighed with relief. He didn't want to disappoint her or anything. She placed a finger on her lips, idly rocking back and forth on her heels. "But you know, I didn't get everything I wanted."
Roxas blinked. "What else did you want?"
"This." Olette kissed him. Full on the lips. Roxas froze up, stumbling backwards and he crashed against the chair, grabbing onto the first thing he could (Olette) before he fell back onto the ground. Olette landed on top of him, her dark hair sprawled all over his face.
They both stared at each other.
And burst out laughing.
"We're here," mumbled Axel, before all but barging in. Roxas didn't even move as the familiar stench of drugs clouded out. Roxas gagged, but Axel didn't even seem to notice it. His footsteps were heavy as he moved into the room, where people were passed out everywhere, some were dancing, some where just screaming at nothing. It was evident, however, that all of them were stoned. Roxas had to stare at his feet to avoid stepping on needles.
He was in hell.
Axel looked completely at home, immediately greeting the only sober person in sight. Some old guy with grey hair swooped back into a pony-tail, with an eye patch and scars all over his face. He looked like he'd survived an atomic bomb or something. When Scarface caught sight of Roxas, he questioned Axel, and Roxas was all too quickly dragged over to talk.
"Xigbar, this is Roxas. Roxas, this is Xigbar. It's his and Blank's house," informed Axel, jerking a thumb towards Scarface. "Dunno where Blank is, though." The guy was a hell of a lot older than either of them – probably mid-forties, at least. Roxas didn't like the vibes he was getting from him, either. The guy was blatantly staring at Axel.
No, no, Roxas didn't like that one bit.
People pushed by him, and Roxas got a little bit lost in the fray. Axel was obviously dismissing him, to do his own thing, as the red head disappeared down another hall with old man Scarface. Roxas found himself hauled into what seemed to be a living room, and he looked around, disoriented.
"Hey little boy," laughed one of the random people in the room. Roxas could hardly tell who was talking to him. Everything was so foggy. God, he really needed a drink.
He was pushed around a little bit more, before somebody shoved a bottle of beer into his hand. Satisfied to see that it was thus far unopened (Roxas wasn't stupid enough to let something get slipped into his drink), he opened it himself and drank deeply. He really needed to let himself go.
Stumbling slightly in the sea of writhing, moving people he was pushed into a short brunette who elbowed him in the side. "Watch where you're going, dipshit!" growled the girl. For a moment, Roxas was wondered if she even was a girl (since she was quite the man in personality). After getting a better look at him, her cute little face broke into a grin. "Little boy!"
What? Roxas was pushed again, as a shorter man edged his way through. "What? Little boys crawling about?" The man scowled under a thick bandana that fell over his eyes. "I dunno, but I'm not all about corrupting little kids." He caught Roxas's eyes and offered him a handful of colourful little pills. "Hey, you want some E?"
Roxas scowled. So much for not corrupting the youth. He pushed the hand away, and ducked further into the crowd. The crazy brown-haired girl he'd crashed into just laughed it off and went back to dancing with bandana-boy, shrieking 'Blank, Blank!' as she did so.
This was way too fucked up.
Roxas wanted to leave.
Everything had gone horribly, utterly wrong. Roxas half wanted to just fall down and die. The 'perfect date' he'd planned had basically failed – and it was raining. Fucking awesome. Olette turned to give him a half-smile, huddling closer to him to keep herself warm.
He'd had to walk her home. It wasn't like she lived far, and it seemed nice enough when they'd left. And then buckets upon buckets of rain fell. Olette was soaked. Roxas was soaked and miserable.
"Sorry," he grumbled, crossing his arms and trying to ignore the feeling of wet clothing sticking to every place of his body. He wanted to go and get himself changed out of those clothes. Olette just laughed, looking like a drowned rat with her hair pasted to her face.
"It's okay! Really, I had fun! Seeing you fall on your ass was cute," she said, referring to the point where he'd tried to show off somewhat, only to end up looking like a moron with people from school laughing at him. He really had no idea that stupid little ice cream place would be so full of people.
He huffed, hugging himself tighter, feeling like such a moron. While Olette kept insisting it was fun, he still felt like he'd failed somehow. He didn't know what he was doing. "I really did have fun, Roxas. Don't be so hard on yourself," she urged, gently, snuggling up to him again, peeling one of his arms away from his body so that she could wrap it around herself.
They were soaked, stumbling along, with Roxas holding one arm around her awkwardly, not knowing what to do. She was shivering a little bit. The blonde half considered just standing beneath a tree to get away from the rain or something.
He glanced over to Olette, opening his mouth to ask her if she wanted to stop. He didn't so much as get a word out. She was staring up at the sky, mouth open, catching rain drops on her tongue, beads of water clinging to her eyelashes and dripping off of her nose.
She was pretty. Gorgeous, even. Roxas silently cursed himself for not making the first move. On top of his thoughts of stupidity surrounding the date, he was slightly embarrassed that he couldn't take a hint. He'd liked her that way for the longest time, not knowing that she liked him that way in return, so he didn't ask her out, because he wouldn't until he was sure that she liked him that way.
"You look good wet," he blurted.
And then he realized how perverted he sounded.
Shit.
Roxas was drunk. Completely and utterly drunk. He downed pretty much everything in sight, unconcerned with the fact that anything could be laced with rohypnol. He mixed drinks. He was going to be fucking hung over and he knew it, but he couldn't bring himself to care.
He only wanted to forget. He didn't want to think about Olette and her tomboyish ways, or her high-pitched almost screechy laugh, or the way she twirled her fingers in her hair when she talked to him, or how she linked their little fingers together and swung their hands back and forth when they walked.
He was going to miss her.
Sitting on the couch in the middle of the living room with people alive and sweaty and high around him, Roxas felt dead. Virtually fucking dead. Legs sprawled out in front of him, he stared at his feet, feeling detached from his body, like he was looking at some other person.
What seemed like hours went by. Roxas watched other people laugh, run around and act stupid, dancing to music that was all but thundering around them. Shaking the house. Making pictures fall off of the walls. If any of the neighbors tried to complain, nobody would've heard them. Nobody would've cared.
He finally stood up. Bored of his surroundings. Bored of seeing the crazy brunette girl from before crawl all over her boyfriend. His head was foggy and fuzzy and he couldn't even really see where he was going, but he somehow managed to stumble his way into the kitchen. His shirt was covered in glitter from some girl with a sparkle-coated upper body, but he didn't care. He didn't care at all.
The kitchen didn't have nearly as many people. Actually, it was quite cleared out. If Roxas had been sober, he would've noticed the people guarding the doors, but they really saw no problem for letting the blonde bumble his way inside.
He felt like he could breathe again. The area was far less congested, and he could actually move around. Eyes blurry, he looked at the surrounding people. He recognized some of them.
Fucking cotton-candy head boy.
"What are you doing here?" grumbled Zexion, eyes scanning the blonde's slightly taller form. Roxas didn't dodge his eyes this time – he was far too drunk to even think about who he was dealing with. "Answer me."
Roxas only mumbled in reply. Lexaeus, who'd been standing at the opposite doorway to the kitchen, finally left his post at the door to come over. The large man crossed his arms, looking quizzically to Zexion. "Why must the annoying ones always follow me around?" Zexion's words made Roxas feel even worse. He was wobbly on his feet. He felt like he was going to fall over. The lilac haired man gritted his teeth, bringing a small hand up to massage his temples.
"Don't stress yourself out," murmured Lexaeus, glancing back over his shoulder. There was someone sitting at that table that Roxas couldn't really see properly. He wasn't sure if he even wanted to know who it was.
Zexion huffed. He seemed a lot calmer this time around, actually. "I'm not stressed out. Just… unhappy." His lip curled, and he turned to talk to the younger blonde. Mouth opened, he was interrupted by a deeper, softer voice.
"Is that the boy you told me about?"
Lexaeus glanced over his shoulder again, before stepping aside to let the person finally come into view. Even through Roxas's blurry eyes, one could tell that this guy had some kind of authority. Leaning over the table, head propped up on his arm, the man scanned the youth. He rolled his eyes.
Roxas just blinked. Lexaeus looked a little bit uneasy, standing there. Zexion just looked pissed off. Then again, the man usually looked pissed off, no matter the situation. The brunet at the table laughed, sitting up straight. "Axel's little stalker, right?" he questioned, voice like molasses. He knew how to manipulate people. He was in charge.
"M'not stalker," slurred Roxas, wavering slightly. Lexaeus almost looked like he was ready to catch him – he was evidently the most caring of them. "Who're you?"
"Marluxia," stated the brunet, glancing over to the door that Lexaeus was supposed to be guarding. Roxas looked over, too. Axel blinked back at both of them, a little bit confused.
He looked quite worse for wear. Hair mussed and bruises visible on his neck, his eyes looked tired and his hands were shaking. "What the fuck…?" Flicking green eyes between both Marluxia and Roxas, he was at a loss for words.
Marluxia observed for a moment, before extending one long finger and beckoning Axel. The red head bit his lip for a moment, before answering Marluxia's call. Zexion and Lexaeus pretended not to watch, but it was obvious where their eyes kept looking.
"Roxas, you're poking me."
"Hngh, what?"
Olette blushed and giggled and coughed all at once, dodging his eyes. It took Roxas a minute to figure out what she was talking about, but he, too, went red as a damn tomato. "Uh, shit, fuck, sorry," he mumbled, hopelessly embarrassed.
It wasn't exactly his fault, either. After all, he had a pretty girl straddling his lap, leaning over to kiss him. She wasn't even wearing a shirt. They were home alone for the night – Olette's father had no idea he was there, and for good reason. He'd gone out on a date, and wouldn't be back for quite some time.
Swallowing thickly, he moved to push her off. But she clamped her legs around his hips, staying in a rather suggestive position. Roxas blinked. Oh, shit. "Uh, Olette, I don't—"
"You don't want to?" she interrupted, worried.
Roxas swallowed, again. His tongue felt tied. Of course he did! He was a horny teenager, almost fifteen years old. Of course he wanted it. "It's just… I don't have any condoms on me." He silently berated himself, wishing he had thought ahead. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I'm home alone with a girl and I forget condoms! Idiot!
"We could just, y'know, not go all the way," murmured Olette, offering a crooked smile. Roxas's lips twitched. He was slowly starting to get nervous.
Flicking his eyes away, he tried to calm down a little bit. "Uh, it's just, I… I haven't really done this before, and it probably won't be very good." When he turned his eyes back to her, she had slipped off her bra and was dropping it to the floor. Of course he'd seen her naked before, but he was honestly at a loss at how exactly to go about this.
Olette didn't even care about how awkward it was. She just cared about him.
The red head basically slinked forward, edging his way past a rather disgruntled Zexion. Marluxia didn't so much as say a word as he pulled the skinny, sickly boy into his lap. Roxas still felt fuzzy. He didn't feel like he was actually there anymore. Just watching, a bizarre sort of outsider looking in.
Axel played with Marluxia's hair while the brunet asked him questions, whispering. The two laughed at something for a moment, before Marluxia gave Roxas a not-so-subtle glance. "So, you're not a boyfriend?"
Roxas fumbled on his words, barely registering what in the hell was going on. Lexaeus gave him a stern look – you didn't keep Marluxia waiting when he asked you a question. They were like their own little mafia; it was almost stupid when you thought about it.
"N-no. M'not gay." Marluxia scoffed, clearly amused with the statement. Even Axel laughed a little, but it was hesitant. Nobody was really in their right mind. Nobody wanted to be.
Licking his lips, Marluxia glanced to Axel once more, pulling the red head further onto his lap, grinding their hips together. The red head's lips parted, and their eyes connected. Marluxia's glare was cold to anyone, but with Axel, it just seemed to burn up the room.
Roxas's face was on fire.
"So… you won't mind if I—"
The blonde was out of the room before Marluxia could even finish his sentence. He didn't need to see a bunch of fags making out. Zexion's lips curled as he passed, and Lexaeus just shook his head. The kid really needed to get out of there.
And he did.
He fucking ran as fast as his sluggish legs would carry him. Threading through the people, he tripped and fell right on his face, hands getting stepped on as people mercilessly ignored him. He could barely even bring himself to care.
But no, he couldn't stay. He picked himself off of the ground, dragging his feet as he stumbled to stand. Roxas couldn't even see anymore – his vision was hazy, everything was swimming in smoke.
He finally slammed into a door, scrabbling at the handle until he finally managed it open. Cold air blasted into his face, but his arms didn't feel cold. He realized that he hadn't even bothered to take his jacket off, earlier.
Crashing down the front steps, he kept walking until he was standing near the mailbox. Leaning against the post, he stared at the sky. He felt like killing something. He felt like dying. He felt like screaming and yelling and wishing, for once, that he actually had a purpose.
Roxas started crying.
There was a crash of glass, and Roxas bit his lip, staring at Olette's home. The brunette came barreling out the door, looking frightened and clutching her arms as she stumbled into his embrace. Her tears were wet against his shoulder. "…Olette?"
Her breath hitched and she audibly sobbed, wrapping her arms around him. He could only hold her – he didn't know what to do. The only thing he could do was keep her there, and try to make her happy.
Olette stayed there, for a while. Roxas held his breath, not knowing what exactly went on, or what to say. He was so unsure of himself. He felt like he'd just make her cry more if he did happen to say anything.
"…It was my dad, again," she mumbled, against his shirt. Roxas stiffened against her, arms clenching her body closer to his. He knew it wasn't exactly his business, but his physical violence was just getting worse and worse. It wasn't like he was a bad guy, or anything – he was just depressed. Depression led to substance abuse.
All in all, he drank way too much.
Olette swallowed thickly, pulling away from him to wipe her eyes with the back of her sleeve. "What did he do this time?" Roxas's voice was almost a growl. She sighed, glancing back to the door. At least he hadn't come outside to try to attack Roxas, or anything.
"He just… yelled at me. And threw a bottle at me," she mumbled, staring at the ground. It was almost like Olette didn't feel she was worthy enough. If anything, the worst part about her father was that he made her feel useless. Unloved. "It didn't hit me or anything... just the wall. That's what made the noise."
She trailed off, sniffling slightly. Roxas gritted his teeth – he really just wanted to go inside and beat the shit out of him. Part of the blonde knew that it wasn't really his fault; Olette's mother had left the both of them for a younger, richer man a long while ago, and left the man feeling low. He'd looked into the bottom of a bottle for life's answers.
He threaded his fingers into hers. "I could beat him up for you, if you want," he said, only half-joking. The side of Roxas's mouth curled upward into a crooked smile. The two of them made a perfect little broken picture, her face stained with tears and his like half of it was numb.
Olette forced herself to smile, green eyes dull and lifeless. "Come on. No use crying," she said, wiping her eyes again, with her free hand. Her fingers tightened around his. "Let's go to your house. Do something."
"Like… eat popsicles?" he suggested. Summertime was the best time for popsicles. Olette ate them differently from him – she tended to leave them in her mouth until they melted. Roxas just chewed and ate until it was gone, and usually chewed on the stick, after.
Giggling, the brunette swung their hands back and forth as they walked down the street. "I'd like that," she mumbled, cheered up, somewhat. Olette obviously wasn't happy, but at least she was trying.
God, he wanted to see her truly smile.
Biting his lips, Roxas glued his eyes to her face. He wanted to ask her this time. "Hey, Olette," he said, dodging blue irises as she looked over to him. "You… you should move out. And come live with me. I mean, my house, not my room."
Olette blinked, and Roxas blushed. "Well, cause, yeah. Your dad is a jerk, and my mom would let you. Tia loves you, and I'd really… well, I'd really like you living there. My house."
He could feel the heat creeping into his face. He was nervous about asking her, there was no doubt about that, but at the same time he really wanted her to come. She wasn't safe living with her father. Olette was constantly in danger, as much as she wanted to deny it.
She nibbled on her lower lip, thinking. Olette stared at the sky, even as they continued walking. Roxas kept his eyes fixed on her face, wanting to read her. "No," she said, after a while.
Roxas's face fell. "Why not?"
She laughed, softly, pausing her gait. He stopped with her, releasing her hand to look her in the face. "Because, Roxas," she said, after a moment, "I'm sure I can fix him. I just need more time."
He sighed.
"Yep," Olette said, taking hold of his fingers once again, "All it takes is time. You're proof of that. After all, I fixed you."
Axel eased his way through the crowds, sporting a new bite mark on his neck. Proof that he was owned. Proof that he was Marluxia's. He had no concern, however, because nobody was really paying attention to him. It wasn't like he cared if anyone noticed, anyway.
Pushing people out of the way, sending them crashing into furniture, Axel finally found his goal. "Xigbar, you fucker, get over here!" he laughed, before almost colliding into the man. Xigbar barely got a chance to turn around, before he was forced to greet the teenager.
"Hey, you," he stated, grinning like a moron. He looped an arm around the younger man's waist, before leading him over to the stairs. "I've been lookin' for you. Where you been?"
The red head's lip curled as he let himself be dragged. "Dealing with Roxas. Fuckin' pussy. He's already drunk and probably sobbing like a little kid outside." Xigbar only laughed as they stepped into the upstairs hallway. People were making out against the walls, but Axel didn't pay a second thought. He was just going to do worse than they were. So much worse.
"So, how the other guys been treatin' you? Bad? Nice bruise there, dude," said Xigbar, prodding one long finger on the aforementioned spot. Axel snapped at his hand, grinning when Xigbar instead dipped it into the collar of his shirt.
"Marluxia making his mark. Dunno. Doesn't want anybody else to claim me as their own personal whore." With that, he turned around, taking both of Xigbar's hands and opening a nearby doorway with his shoulder. Xigbar kept that stupid fucking grin on his face. He looked like a wolf who'd just found his last meal.
"So, Axel, bein' your friend and all, do I get a discount?" The older man sat himself down on the bed. His room was a fucking mess – he acted more like a teenager than anything. If Tia had been there, she would've had a damn heart-attack.
Axel snorted, dropping to his knees. Xigbar immediately spread his legs. It was a goddamn formula now – Axel would suck him off, and then get fucked, and then he'd get his money and they'd act like old buddies when they weren't fucking like animals. It was almost sickening how indifferent they could be in public.
But in reality, Xigbar didn't matter to Axel, and Axel didn't matter to Xigbar. It was casual fucking, nothing else. Xigbar knew that he could easily get free fucks from anyone else, but for some reason, he just kept paying Axel. Maybe he felt sorry for the kid. Nobody really knew.
Snorting, the red head reached for Xigbar's zipper. "No way, old man. I need the cash. Holiday season and all." Dragging the cold metal down, Axel nearly snorted, bringing himself forward a little bit more. Xigbar never wore anything under his pants. Dirty fucking old man.
"Yeah, but it's also the time to be generous," stated Xigbar, only jumping slightly as Axel's cold, long hands gently brushed his soft cock. The red head made a loose fist around Xigbar's length, and he quickly worked the older man to an erection. "S-season of giving, right man?"
"Yeah. Giving me money." Axel brushed his thumb over the tip of Xigbar's cock, glancing up to the man's face. He didn't look overly impressed, really, but Axel didn't expect it. It was the same with everyone – they didn't care who he was. It was just a fuck. It was just… nothing. "For coke. I need it."
Xigbar laughed. "Let it snow, right?"
It was nights like these that Axel felt the worst. When he was with people that bought him often. It was some bizarre semblance of a relationship, and it hurt him the worst. Not that he'd ever say it, though. Axel was too damn headstrong.
Axel brushed his tongue where his thumb had previously trailed. Xigbar scoffed, shooting one bony hand down to grab at his hair. "Don't be such a damn cocktease, dude. Just let me fuck your mouth."
Axel shrugged his clothes back on, trying to keep his mind blank as he did so. Xigbar had already left, but at least he had his money. He'd pocketed most of it – after all, his 'family' expected Christmas presents. Besides, Selphie needed some new model trains.
Pulling his sweater over his head, Axel scratched at his eyes. He needed a hit – badly. Though, part of him wanted to check up on Roxas. He really wanted to see where the boy had gone.
Grumbling under his breath about stupid stumpy boys, Axel yanked open the bedroom door and all but stormed out. People stared at him as he moved, but he really paid no mind. They were all high anyway, and he didn't give a fuck if they were calling him a slut behind his back.
At the bottom of the stairs, he stood at a sort of crossway. He could either go and see Marluxia, and get his drugs and maybe get treated a little better by the man, than he had been by Xigbar. He had bruises forming on his hips already – Xigbar was rough.
Then again, he could always head to the door, look around for his little blonde companion.
He went for the door.
It was cold outside. Axel had to hug himself to keep from shivering, but he at least spotted Roxas. The blonde was banging his fists against a mailbox of all things, only sporting bloody knuckles for all of his trouble.
And, he was crying. All Axel could think was 'oh, joy'. Stepping up to the unhappy younger boy, he attempted to say something. "Xigbar and Blank are gonna get pissed because you put a dent in their mailbox," he mumbled, thinking it was a little bit lame to say it.
Roxas slumped down onto the snowy ground, eyes glistening with tears. "I give up. I fucking give up. It's not even worth trying anymore," he said, quietly. "I just try and I try and nothing ever works out. Nothing."
Axel almost wanted to kick him in the head. This wasn't Roxas. Roxas was as opinionated and hateful as Axel was. He wasn't pitiful like this, a crying blob on the ground. "Get up, stupid. You look like an idiot," said Axel, fidgeting from side to side.
"I don't care anymore," replied Roxas. So, Axel took to pulling the shorter boy up, before letting him fall against his skinny chest. Roxas smelled like alcohol and drugs and smoke and sex and Axel knew that he probably smelled just as bad. The both of them were so fucked up, and Roxas was still crying into his shoulder.
"You are such a fucking pansy. You'd better not get snot all over me," grumbled the red head, reluctantly wrapping his arms around the blonde's frame. It was weird to be holding someone, and Axel felt like an awkward little virgin.
Roxas's breath hitched, and he abruptly pulled away, only to puke all over the snow. Axel's nose wrinkled. It had already been a 'perfect' day and, to top it all off, Roxas now smelled like puke, smoke, sex, alcohol and drugs. "Great. Just fucking great," said Axel, not even hesitating to search the blonde's pockets, even as Roxas continued to heave up the contents of his stomach.
When he finally retrieved Roxas's trusty old cellphone, he searched his brain for Demyx's number. He knew the man would still be awake – Demyx always said his best inspiration came in the early morning hours. Axel couldn't remember, so he gave up for the moment, and tucked the phone into his jeans pocket.
Roxas stood up, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. "I'll have you know I haven't given up on you, yet," he croaked, weakly. Axel's body went tense. "I've just given up on me. I'm dedicating my fucking life to making you clean, now."
Axel's eyes were hard. Roxas turned to face him, and their gazes met. Challenging. Spiteful. Guilty. Axel didn't know what to feel. He stared at Roxas, and Roxas stared back.
"You can't make me do anything, Roxas," reminded the red head. "I have a free will. I can do whatever the fuck I want." The blonde gave something that was a combination of a sob and a snort. Axel realized that Roxas was still crying. It was pitiful and almost endearing.
Axel's mind was a blank. He didn't know what to say. He could only feel – the ache of his body, the addiction like a caged animal in his head. He wanted to curl up in Marluxia's lap, snort something and make the whole world go away.
But as long as Roxas was here he just couldn't. Not yet. "I'm not giving up on you," murmured Roxas, once more. His blonde head was bowed. He looked almost ashamed to be admitting that he cared about Axel.
"You should," said Axel, feeling numb.
Roxas raised his head. "Why?"
Axel tilted his head back, arms hanging listlessly at his side. He stared at the sky. "Roxas, I'm seventeen years old and my life is over," he said, tired, defeated. He was being truthful. "Fucking over." His head fell forward, and Axel found himself facing the blonde again. "I don't know why you can't just understand that."
"That's not true. It isn't over." Roxas's voice hitched again, and it almost sounded like he was going to throw up. But he didn't, swallowing whatever had crawled up his throat, as he faced the red head. He wasn't even really drunk anymore – just damn tired.
Axel shook his head, digging out the cellphone again. "Yes, it is. Now shut the fuck up." Axel bit his tongue as he dialed the number he thought to be Demyx's. He didn't want to break out in an angry rant about just how over his life was.
"No, it's not!" insisted Roxas, voice quivering. "You're still breathing, aren't you?"
Axel stared at the tiny illuminated screen, feeling his eyes start to blur. He didn't know what to say to that, so instead, he just listened for Demyx on the other end. "Mnn, who is it?" murmured a sleepy voice, on the other end. Axel gave a shaky sigh, sorting his words out in his head before finally saying anything.
"It's me. Listen, I need you to haul your ass down here," requested the red head, biting his lip as he spoke. Demyx seemed instantly awake upon hearing the younger's voice, and Axel could almost hear him smiling against the receiver.
"Oh? Where are you?" he asked, feigning disinterest. Axel snorted; Demyx knew exactly where he was. After all, the red head had told Demyx all about taking Roxas with him that night, just to make the older boy jealous.
Axel's hands shook as he shoved one into his mouth, nibbling at his fingernails almost absentmindedly. "Where the fuck do you think I am? I'm not calling for me, dumbass, Roxas is drunk and he needs a place to crash tonight."
"So you're dumping the kid on me?" whined Demyx, to which Axel only rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, I'm handing him over to you. There's no fucking way he's going home, Tia would kill him for getting this shit-faced."
Demyx gave a heavy sigh, and Axel heard him rolling his fingers across the back of the phone. "Fine. What's the address?" Axel recited the house number and street quickly, before hanging up on the blonde. His eyes crawled their way back to Roxas, who was slumped against the mailbox, crying again.
He scratched at his arms, fighting the need to just snort something, eyes bloodshot, teeth gnawing, breath shaky, hands quivering, Axel murmured; "You're a fucking mess, Roxas."
To this, Roxas only laughed, vomit trailing down his chin.
"Look who's talking."
disclaimer: i don't own anything.
