They keep looking and looking but they never find
The thing that stalks in the back of his mind
Sorry guys. Morbidity returns. And so does someone else... someone bad... the end draweth nigh.
Once again I'm going to have to tell y'all this was beta'd by the most wonderful person! Yes! Mousewolf did a wonderful job on this, putting flesh on the skeleton I wrote. Hopefully you guys can enjoy this...
I'm at a loss for what to say really... so um... just read, enjoy, review repeat!
::: Go Ask Alice :::
Axel found he wasn't so fond of time, how it seemed to move fast one minute and slow in the next; racing and dragging like a broken VHS tape. Smoking a clove, riding the white horse, he watched Demyx's frenzied movements like he had almost every Friday night for the past two months. He's like the moth that dances around the flame but never quite burns.
They fall further and further down the rabbit hole, and though it's only supposed to be an occasional thing, there are times where Axel is scared because he wants more.
Demyx is a whore for the attention. His hips, his face, his brutal fucking eyes are known well now, and it's not often that someone will pass up the opportunity to dance with him. He's become something of a mythical creature. He creates tsunamis, hurricanes, goddamn sub-marine earthquakes of sexual tension in these places; Morse-codes created by the rhythm of his breathing, the undulations of his taut, whipcord body that carry so well in these dark places call all the worst kinds of attention.
And still, he only wants one.
His undying devotion, so uncharacteristic of the Gemini, is so wonderfully endearing.
Axel smiled, turned to smile at the guy next to him, his eyes gleaming like a cat's, like a demon's.
"That's all mine," he gloated, slicking back his thick red hair. In the black-light it almost glows like embers, but he's never needed any dyes to augment the color.
"God. I'm straight and I'm getting turned on watching him," the other guy laughs. He's buzzing pretty hard so he's probably saying things he never would in the waking life, "I'd go gay for some of that…"
"Heh. I thought I was straight once. I still am, I think," Axel admits, "He's the only guy… but he's the only person… you know…"
The other guy at the bar smiles. "I know exactly what you mean."
--- ---
Ah, like a god.
Divine light reflecting off of holy pools of deep waters. Something so very unnatural concealing darkness beyond reckoning. Where the light can't push past, latent resentment, pains innumerable. The light recoils from this. Wounds that would never heal unless someone took the time to cut away the scars, scrape out the filth, suture the wounds… but still… the infection is so rooted.
Demyx cries. His tears taste like the ocean dulled with rainwater. He knows because he always kisses the blond's flushed cheeks when he is crying. Demyx always cries and holds Axel tight, head pressed to the thin man's hollow chest. Hollow because something has broken. The wiring is fucked up somewhere, and the signals can't come through right.
Demyx remedies some of the problems, but he still can't help but feel so very inadequate like the band-aid slapped on a slit throat. No matter what they could have done Axel would die anyway. He'd die in heart, in head, if not physically.
--- ---
It hurts me to write these things.
At three in the morning I wake up shaking, looking for something to cool this burning in my head and I know somewhere deep in my heart how he felt. I feel that overwhelming guilt and self-loathing that he knew so intimately.
Looking at old pictures, I tell myself that things were meant to be this way… sometimes I can feel him hanging around like he always did: the smell of burning cherry wood on a crisp autumn evening or cigarette butts in a beer can… he's there.
He's here waiting, and it makes me feel better sometimes.
But sometimes I can't help but remember how his eyes looked that night.
And I know now why he hurt himself the way he did:
It was the only way he knew to show his love.
--- ---
Axel was a bleeder. A walking hemorrhage.
Despite all this, despite his slow withering, he managed to be bright, jovial, even loving and god he was ever so loyal. There were times Demyx forgot all about the shit they were so entangled in, and he actually enjoyed his time with the redhead. But then there would be those moments that reminded him and he would return back to that bitter reality that consumed his life thus far.
"Demyx…" Axel yawned, finally coming down from the peak of his high. He was always more sane, more stable at this point.
"Yeah, love?" Demyx mumbled, settling his head more comfortably on Axel's chest. The redhead's more muscular now, but still skinny. Scarily so. It's only gotten worse since the cocaine. His heart was thudding like a jackhammer, proving that the powder was still in his system playing with the controls. He was still slightly feverish, but he didn't seem to mind it so much.
Demyx can feel the steady throbbing beneath his cheek, hear it echoing hollow in his skull. He's fucked up too, but not quite the same way.
"I keep thinking about when we first met."
Demyx smiled.
Axel wasn't looking at him, but staring at the ceiling, watching the shadows cast by the streetlights outside as though thinking to befriend them. "You were so goddamn bright I thought I would go blind looking at you."
"You were like… snow… powder on the pavement that hasn't been touched yet," Demyx said softly, "I thought I was dreaming."
"You didn't act like it," Axel laughed, finally looking at him, stroking Demyx's ever-lengthening blond hair lovingly. It was too long to even style now, hanging almost down to his shoulders in front, almost to his hips in the back. He looked wild. The only thing that had been touched up recently were the long patches that covered up his sideburns—trimmed to fall only to his jaw line—and the shaved sections on the sides of his head. The fresh shorn sides prickled Axel's soft palms delightfully.
"I never do, do I?" the blond laughed softly, placing an uncoordinated kiss on Axel's stubbly chin.
"That's good…"
"Don't you… feel bad?" Demyx asked suddenly.
"What do you mean, babe?"
"If I'd acted like I felt, you probably would have run. I can be creepy sometimes."
Axel grinned. "I love you, kid."
--- ---
Axel woke alone again. His headache was tapering off now, but he had to wonder where the hell Demyx had gone. After a few moments of silence, he was finally able to pick up on the sound of water in the shower. Without any intent to warn Demyx, Axel rose and sauntered into the bathroom to take a leak. The blond always left the door open, so why should he have to announce himself? That would defeat the purpose.
He rounded the corner and casually went to his business, peeking into the fogged glass and grinning like the devil himself. Demyx's eyes were squeezed shut, his face set in a grimace. His breathing was quick and shallow as his hands working quick on the… problem that had probably roused him in the first place.
Axel always found it so rewarding to catch his lover playing with himself.
"Take it easy there, killer," Axel laughed, "If you like, I could give you some help…"
Demyx startled hard.
"Holy Jesus!" he bit out in terror, falling back against the wall.
"Yep, he's watchin' alright," Axel assured.
"Get out of town!" Demyx barked. The glass was clouded, but Axel could tell he was glaring.
"Nah… I think I'll stay for the party," he purred, kicking off his boxers.
Demyx didn't complain when the redhead jumped in.
They were close like that.
--- ---
A general lack of care seemed to pervade their demeanors. Saïx didn't mind it so much, hanging around with them as much as he did, but he worried.
Things were getting a little out of hand consumption-wise.
Bad habits.
Addictions…
Misdirected passions.
Gemini was finding a way to exploit every little angle. Sure they'd had their time back then, but Demyx was acting too much on that, and worst of all Axel seemed to be eating it up. It was like he didn't even give a shit anymore. Indeed he didn't.
He couldn't say he didn't like it.
Axel's cheering like a fucking lunatic and Demyx has his head below his shoulders like when he's trying hard, his chest heaving, body shimmering with a patina of sweat. Saïx is gasping, and they're barely even doing anything short of dry-fucking, but it's oh! It's enough to elicit a hoarse gasp from the ex-Berserker as Demyx slides downward again. God, he moves like a woman should, but at the same time, he's terribly dominant and alone in this.
And all Saïx can do is hold on and hope not to drown, as much as he doesn't want this.
Misdirected passions.
Meat, chemicals, a little bit of emotions made of acid on litmus.
Lemon rinds burn when you squeeze them because they're full of rich oils.
Saïx is that wedge of lemon rind, Demyx is the squeeze, Axel is the fucking flame as ever. The catalyst to all this screwed up shit that's been happening in his life and it doesn't seem like any of this will stop any time soon.
All he can do is hold on and pray not to drown in this sea of flames.
SOS.
Ship's going all the fucking way down.
Axel is a monster, Demyx is his pet. Or vice versa.
And Demyx is going down…
And Saïx has to admit: It's pretty damn good.
--- ---
The puppies are gone, so Demyx and Axel have more time to relax these days. They invite Roxas and Naminé from time to time and Saïx inevitably shows up like he knew all along and they all just hang out and enjoy each other's presence. Nothing more, nothing less.
More often than not, Naminé brings them her secret recipe lasagna.
They all like to watch vintage movies or watch Axel paint one of his new masterpieces. Axel has finally talked to Luxord again and though the terms are a little shaky, they were selling art again. Larxene came over and met Demyx. They got along pretty well, so now they invite the two over to socialize from time to time, and though Axel still hemorrhages like a burst artery, the insanity seems to be easing. Things are coming back to a delicate balance.
The dogs sleep on the bed and Demyx smokes a home-rolled cigarette crouched against the bedroom wall with his hands planted firmly on his aching thighs. His sweaty back is flat against the wall and he's trying to breathe slow and even, but he can't. His head is spinning.
Axel moans and shifts in his sleep.
Don't wake up… don't wake up…
He breathes into a cupped hand, exhales, takes a long drag from his cigarette, burns it down to the cardboard filter and grinds it out on his own forearm.
That pain is real at least.
(stop it. you were always a weakling but this is pathetic!)
"Shut the fuck up!" Demyx moans as another wave of nausea rips though him. He clutches his aching head, vaguely aware of something warm dripping down his lips, chin, falling on the floor.
Tastes like salt, iron… blood.
(do you want to save him or not?)
"Why won't you tell me who you are? I know… somewhere in my heart I remember you and you weren't good…"
(you always were the foolish one, number nine. your heart deceives you. give it to me and I will be able to save him…the fool already denied me and look what's happening to him.)
"No, I'll never give you my heart…"
"Dem?" Axel mumbles, "Demyx, are you okay?"
The blond winces and kneads his temples roughly.
"F-fine…" he breathes. It was a bad lie.
Green eyes narrowed, and he had the feeling it wasn't quite directly at him. "Demyx…"
"It's… Xemnas," Demyx breathes, "He's like a shadow, a-a fragment of a memory… I only remember his name."
With a smile on his face, an impossible brightness in his aquamarine eyes, he finally crumples to the floor in a senseless heap.