Disclaimer: They aren't mine.
A/N: Ch. 8, "Wings," fanart from the lovely pouikee: the Hayner/Roxas couch sesh. The link is up on my profile. GO!
Oh. I guess I should mention that I'm on "indefinite hiatus." Except here I am. Updating.
Christmas is this week, so I tried to beat off the angst with a stick, but you know how we do. Characters do what they want. I had this long involved chapter planned, with like birds singing and puppies wagging their tails, but none of that cutesy shit wants to happen. I apologize. HAVE HORNY!ROXAS INSTEAD. (I hate that word. "Horny." Ew.) So have a Merry Christmas, if that's your thing, or Hanukkah, Kwanza, Festivus, and all the amazing other ones that you have totally got to tell me about sometime. How about this: Happy Holidays.
Good? Enjoy.
--
Chapter 9: Flux
It is probably unconscious, the process by which we catalogue the people we know. All the ways you can know a person—history, appearance, the way their mouth moves when they talk, the way their car sounds, how they shrug when they're pissed off—you catalogue them in your head. Maybe a couple people share the same nervous fidget or the compulsive tucking hair behind the ear when talking, but after awhile you figure you got them all down, filed and locked away in the labyrinth of your mind. After eight months of knowing Axel, Roxas was nervous at how large Axel's file was becoming. There were just so many things to notice, every day something new.
Lunch, for instance. After the spontaneous "it's not a date" pizza thing, Axel began taking Roxas out on "they're not dates" lunch things where, though Roxas had eaten lunch with Axel at least four hundred times in the dining commons, he'd never seemed to notice the peculiar way that Axel didn't really eat at all as much as he took a few bites and pushed his food around.
"And that is when I knew," Axel said, waving chopsticks in the air, a perfectly swirled strand of Pad Thai dangling perilously over the oversized bowl of coconut soup in front of them. "I knew that, without a doubt, I was destined to sell drugs. I just knew." And where someone who was normal, or someone who ate food, or someone who was just not Axel would have eaten said strand of delicious perfectly spiced noodle, Axel smiled at Roxas and dropped his chopsticks back to his plate, swirling again and again. Roxas didn't know what to make of this, if Axel had always done this, or if this was particular to their "not dates." Each time he thought of bringing it up, Axel distracted him with his latest lunch selection.
"I was thinking Italian." Axel, slouched in the driver's seat, thumb at six o'clock.
"We had pizza the first time," Roxas pointed out, gearing up to add that Axel had taken five bites and had spent the rest of the time staring at him with his freaky green eyes that, Roxas was sure, were looking right at his mouth the entire time, unendingly aware of the way his slice of pizza would attack his mouth like a thing crazed, slopping delicious tomato sauce over the lines of his lips like a kindergartener with a coloring book.
"You're keeping track?" Axel asked, amused, then tossed Roxas his pack of cigarettes. Damn, he took them again. "Domino's hardly counts as Italian."
The important part was not to overthink anything. They weren't dates, and they were just friends, and besides he had his own convoluted love triangle to worry about. There was the issue of Sora on the phone with him every night, still broken up with Riku, and in some sort of perma-stoned stupor that made Roxas feel 1) guilty, 2) murderous, and 3) helpless in a panicky Fuck Everything kind of way that irritated his bladder and found him in the bathroom once for every half hour with Sora on the phone. Riku, who texted once everyday, would send the one word "sup" or the two word "fuck man," both of which were expected and reasonably untroubling. Nonetheless, it was all Roxas could do to not scream in frustration every minute of the day.
So, when Axel said they were going somewhere, somewhere that was not a place Roxas could watch him not eat, he grew excited.
"Where?" Roxas, resisting the desire to clap his hands and bounce up and down in Axel's dorm. He scowled instead, putting on the face that said What Do You Want This Time.
Axel shrugged, sliding his freakishly thin arms into the sleeves of a purple—Purple?—hoodie. "This place I heard about."
This place he heard about turned out to be a small concrete tunnel defaced with graffiti that led into a tiny room littered with beer bottles, three walls dedicated to more graffiti of the "MIKE WUZ HERE" sort, and the fourth wall was absent, opening up into a small ravine, the sound of running water below them.
"Send me all your vampires," Axel said in the gloom. He'd claimed it wasn't safe to make the trek in daylight. Illegal things like trespassing tend to be easier at night.
"What?" Roxas asked, aghast and feeling imaginary bugs slipping down the back of his shirt. The flicker of a lighter revealed the phrase in electric blue spray paint, huge and deranged looking over the left wall. "Uh, cool."
Axel smirked at him before flicking the lighter closed, and Roxas saw him sit cross-legged on the unsanitary looking floor. A warning about some sort of Hepatitis—A? B? C?—resounded in his brain, but he took a seat next to the redhdead, drawing his knees up to his chest. Roxas was content to just sit in silence, let his mind wander over questions of geometric shapes, triangles namely, and strictly not pay attention to the rise and fall of Axel's chest as he breathed. Sometimes they would go and sit places and Axel would not be able to stop talking, but other times they would sit and stare and say nothing at all, Axel's eyes trained on something in the dark, some speck of light Roxas couldn't see.
"April is my favorite month," Axel spoke quietly, jutting his chin up once toward the ravine. "April 29th is my favorite day.
"Uh, cool." Roxas stuck the tip of his thumb in his mouth, teeth capturing a nail. Cool. Uh, cool. You are a complete idiot. He was about to bite down, sever a slice of keratin, when Axel pushed his hand down.
"Don't bite your nails." Axel, eyes glued to something he couldn't possibly see in the darkness.
"…Yes, mom."
"Your mom tell you shit like that?" A small bitter laugh, more like a forceful exhale. "I could probably chew off all the skin on my hands, and my mom wouldn't give a shit."
Roxas tried to bite down on his thumbnail again, and Axel slapped his hand away. "Ow, bitch." Then, "I'm sure she'd give a shit if you ate your hand off."
"We're talking about a woman who let me tattoo my face. You serious?"
Roxas shrugged. "People show affection in all different kinds of ways. You can't be too hard on them."
"Dr. Phil or some shit?" Axel produced Roxas' pack of cigarettes and pulled out two, lighting both before handing one over.
Roxas took a measured hit, wondering how to phrase his answer. "Talk shows are bullshit. I'm just saying," pause, inhale, "that I don't, like… I don't do regular stuff with my friends. I show them I care in different ways." He could feel Axel's eyes on him.
"Yeah?" Axel opened his mouth in a small "O," a perfect ring of smoke floating up and out as the redhead worked his jaw. "How?"
Nice one, dumbass. You can't tell him this shit. "Well, I definitely don't smack the shit out of them for attempting personal grooming."
"Biting your nails is not personal grooming, smartass."
Roxas chuckled, flicking his cigarette. "We just…," the smile on Roxas' face turned wistful. Axel, staring intently out of the corner of his eyes, raised his eyebrows like he knew what was coming next.
"You suck each other's dicks or something, Rox?"
"Not… not exactly."
The redhead touched a hand to Roxas' shoulder, turning the other boy inward to meet his eyes. "Are you fucking serious?"
Roxas shrugged. "It's not like it happens all the time. These are, uh, like recent developments or something."
"I thought you wanted to bone your best friend's boyfriend or something."
"…"
"Roxas," Axel said, leaning in with eyes wide. "This is not healthy for you, man. You can really fuck yourself up by being in a situation like this."
Too late. "And you know all about 'healthy' situations, right?" Roxas blew a cloud of smoke in Axel's face. He was fucked, he already knew this, but like Axel had any room to talk?
"I don't pretend to have everything figured out, but you think I don't know that I'm fucking myself over?"
"Right, well, I know it, too." Roxas glared at the redhead, and before he had the sense of mind to shut his mouth, more words tumbled out of his lips. "I've always loved Sora, and now I can show him. Him and Riku." A hint of malice sat on his words, and he flicked the ash of his cigarette with an audible swish. "At least I love them."
Axel, still leaned in close, stared intently for a few seconds, the exhales of his breath landing warm against Roxas' cheek, his cigarette burning away in his left hand. He reached up and pulled Roxas close, the blonde's shoulder digging into his chest. "There is a difference, Roxas, between sex and love."
Suddenly flushed, Roxas tried his best convincing eye-roll. "Whatever."
"There is," Axel insisted, tugging Roxas again and again, shaking him.
"Okay," Roxas said, voice tightening. "I said whatever."
"There is," Axel said again, pulling the blonde close, lips ghosting at Roxas' temple.
"Fuck you." Roxas jerked his shoulder up, trying to dislodge the redhead's limb from his body. Axel held him tighter.
"There is, Roxas."
"Repeat yourself another fucking time, why don't you?" Heart racing, he tried to shove Axel away. Fuck him. Fuck love.
There was a moment of hesitation. Roxas thought that he could feel the question under Axel's skin, a simple yes or no, a should he or shouldn't he. Just as Roxas was about to shove Axel again, the redhead's lips pressed to his temple. With this simple press, Axel's lips dry and the smell of smoke thick between them, Roxas felt himself turn into the touch, body reconfiguring itself to fit perfectly against the shape made by Axel's ribs and arm, leg and lips, his whole left side seeking out docking ports and nerve endings.
"See?" Axel said, lips moving against Roxas' temple. "No sex."
Roxas felt his head moving, cheek nuzzling the hand against his shoulder. Stop it. Stop it. "This isn't love."
The hand against his shoulder moved and slid around his chest, thin fingers gliding up his neck, knuckles tilting his chin up until Axel's eyes were on his. "Then what is?" There was no challenge in the older boy's voice, almost no inflection at all other than the haunt of uncertainty, a husky drop followed by green eyes that didn't blink at all. The look would've been feral, predatory, if it reached Axel's lips. Instead the line of the redhead's mouth was flat, sad almost.
Flowers, was the first thing Roxas thought, which, in reality, means nothing at all and is maybe slightly disturbing given the anatomy of flowers. Predictably, Dates, was next, followed by Kissing. None of these things, Roxas realized, had anything to do with love at all. He thought of Sora, feather touches in bed with him back when they still wore all their clothes and he didn't know what Sora tasted like, didn't know the sounds his best friend made when arched up in pleasure. He thought of Riku, sitting on the stairs during lunch and listening to him with rapt attention as he related some incident while in rehab, some horror cloaked in the safety of time, back when the memory of Riku's fingers wasn't seared into his skin, branded forever with stolen lust. Love is attention? Love is proximity?
"Love is…" he tried, licking his lips. He shuddered as Axel's thumb ran just under his bottom lip. "It's not able to be described." Idiot.
"You don't believe in love." Axel's eyes, burning Roxas up in that impossible way, like they're seeing every last inch of him.
"I do." Do I? His head tilted back almost imperceptibly, lining their mouths up, eyelids lowering. Do I? "I dunno."
"I feel like…," Axel began, inhaling the air between them and letting it out in a quick sigh, defeated and brave all at once. "…I love you." The whisper resounded like a sharp snap in Roxas' mind, slingshotting him over to Sora's bedroom, Sora's bed. Whispers, touches, deft hands and dancing fingers twining breath and intention together. The images dissolved as Axel's hand shifted, fingers curving around the side of his neck, index finger coming to rest behind the base of his ear. "I love you," Axel said again, eyes searching. A whimper bubbled at the back of Roxas' throat, eyes slitted. This is the part where we kiss. This is the part. Now. Or now.
Except the kiss would not come, Axel's finger stroking behind his ear softer than soft. He's trying to make a point, genius. He began to feel ridiculous, melting in Axel's hands, but his body seemed to be locked in a decidedly feminine swoon, eyes still trained on Axel's through his lashes. His lips parted and he was aware of every minute point of separation, everything magnified a thousandfold under Axel's stare, and he was reminded of particles and beams and how things observed know they're observed.
"If you keep looking like that, I'm going to kiss you." Axel's voice was low, the whisper replaced by a rough edge; serrated knives like hunger sitting right at the corner of his mouth and working their way into his eyes. Roxas' heart pinged.
"That would be bad."
"Would it?" Axel asked, and his mouth was closer than Roxas thought he could handle, heart slamming in his chest. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.
"You'd prove me right," Roxas said, eyes slipping closed and head tilting back.
The same moment of hesitation, a question running like a current of electricity in the air, before Axel moved away, hands relaxing and sliding away from Roxas' body. For the entirety of three seconds Roxas had a screaming match with his libido, beating it back from its attempts to knock Axel down and fuck him into next week. Sex and love, sex and love. Don't get it twisted.
"Shit, Rox," Axel said. "Couldn't they have made you a little uglier or something?" Axel's hands shook as he lit another cigarette. "I need to get laid."
I'm right here. "Yeah. Me, too." Because a blowjob from Riku doesn't count as sex. That was weeks ago. Maybe Hayner is interested, since this motherfucker is clearly locking you up in the Friend Zone.
As if on cue, Axel said, "Listen. I know that kid, Sora, is like your best friend or whatever. But, like… I've never really had any guy friends." A wry smile. "Because I fucked all of them. So you're my best friend, alright?"
"Sure," Roxas said. Friend Zone. Fuck.
--
But the problem is that Sora was his friend, too. Sora was his friend, had been in the Friend Zone for as long as he even knew him, and then suddenly he was across the line, lips wrapped around Roxas' dick in the form of Roxas' hand and a vivid imagination. Sora Sora Sora Sora. It was Sunday, he didn't know what time because the curtains were drawn and Zexion wasn't in. It was Sunday, and he was jacking off. If he was honest with himself, he would've known there was nothing "sudden" about how "suddenly" he wanted Sora riding him, making those incredible sounds that he'd heard every single night for the past couple of weeks. Even before they kissed for real, even before they broke all the rules and talked in the sounds of lust dressed up as love, even before then Roxas had seen Sora this way; moaning, flushed. It was supposed to be about imagining Riku having sex, so why was Sora always there? Sora and Riku, fucking. It was always the same little scene, Riku laid out and Sora with his hands pressed down on the other boy's hips. He always came when Sora came. Or at least that was the general rule of thumb until his little chat with Axel.
Sex and love, sex and love. It was hot, that much he could register. Sunday morning, his sheets tossed down toward his feet where his briefs were bunched. It was hot, and at some point he'd stopped seeing Riku and Sora. His mind kept pointing at something vaguely redheaded, but Roxas would not jack off to Axel. There was no point. Well, there was, but he didn't want to come and feel miserable immediately afterward. Sora and Riku. He picked up speed, working his lower lip between his teeth. It was hot, hotter than it had ever been before, and his hips were rocking of their own volition. Fuck. Because you don't think thoughts. They just appear. Axel's mouth around his dick. It just appears.
"Axel," he moaned, feeling a little thrill at the way it sounded out loud, heavy with want, in his mouth. He didn't have to try too hard to get the scenario right: a dark beach, tequila, Axel's mouth. He was moaning loud, completely lost, hips jerking into that hot mouth, perfect lips in an "O," thin fingers gripping his hips. "Nn—fuck."
It was without a doubt the best jerk off session he'd ever had in his entire life. When the Axel in his head slid a finger into him, Roxas came. If you've ever caught yourself snoring, half-asleep and jolted suddenly awake by that weird noise that you can't believe is coming from your own mouth, then realizing you're moaning in ecstacy as you ride out the last wave of an orgasm is not too far different. Roxas immediately quieted, jerking his briefs back on with one hand.
He knew, as Zexion opened the door literally one second after Roxas wiped the come off his hand with a tissue, that his roommate had probably been standing outside waiting for him to finish.
"Nice day," Zexion said, standing in the middle of the room.
"Uh."
"What's that? You'll have to speak up. I think I might've gone a little deaf."
"Fuck," Roxas sighed, clapping a hand over his face.
"Yes, that's the one. Just a couple decibles louder. And the 'me, Axel,' part. That, too."
Roxas flipped off his roommate briefly, pulling open the curtains. "You are way too interested in this for your own good."
"What can I say?" Zexion asked, scaling the bunks. "I'm surprised to find that he has done any fucking at all. I was under the impression that he is usually the fucked."
"…Oh," Roxas said. Would this be a problem? The image of Axel infront of him, beckoning, made him suddenly very aware that he was clad only in his increasingly tight briefs. "Oh." Zexion smiled at the sudden pitch change in the blonde's voice.
"Shall I pop open a bottle of bubbly? You're clearly about to jizz in your pants."
"I just," Roxas gestured, "I… didn't think about it that way."
"So he's been fucking you?" Zexion asked conversationally, surveying Roxas over the top of a literature anthology.
"What? No!" Roxas said, stomping over to the desk where Zexion had thoughtfully smuggled him three white peaches out of the dining commons. "He's like… got me in the Friend Zone, or something," Roxas said, tearing into a peach with utter abandon. My hands… I should probably wash them first. He licked a finger experimentally and then shrugged. Tastes normal.
"I saw that," Zexion said.
"Stalker."
"Pervert. Being all perverted with my beautiful peaches."
"Whatever, dude. Can you give me some like… skills to get him to like me in the non-lame way?"
"You sound like a fourth grader."
"Whatever!" Roxas exclaimed, flinging a peach pit at the university-issued trashcan. "I want him to like me." And Sora. And Riku. Because I am fucking slut and can only think with my dick.
"And you're asking me for advice."
"…Yeah."
"I'm asexual."
"He gave you a blowjob."
"It was an accident."
Roxas glared, the second peach infront of his mouth. "He slipped and fell on your dick. With his mouth."
"PLEASE TO STOP WITH THE SEX TALK," Zexion said loudly. "It's making my asexual skin crawl." Roxas frowned and continued to feast, routinely making loud sucking noises. "You," Zexion said after Roxas more or less fellated the third and final peach, "need to get laid."
"I have Palmela for that."
"…Please tell me you did not just call your right hand 'Palmela.'"
Roxas smirked and wiggled his fingers. "You're going to hurt her feelings."
"Your spiral into depraved lunacy only supports my theory: you need to get laid." Zexion tapped thoughtfully on the cover his book. Then, "I volunteer myself."
Roxas choked on some air. "Seriously?"
"No."
"Fuck, Zex. I'm being serious. Can we like hatch an evil plot to get him to want my sexy body?"
"Your body isn't sexy. It's adolescent. Do you ever eat?"
"Fuck you, dude."
"Okay, I take it back. You have a very nice butt. And the outline your cock makes against those jeans you're fond of… very aesthetically pleasing."
"…Are you high?"
"Yes."
"FUCK!" Roxas shouted, feeling hysterical. "I'm going to Vista."
"He was asking for you at lunch," Zexion called as Roxas, finally fully clothed, walked out the door.
Great. Asking for me. Probably wanted to go on another not-date. A cigarette blazed to life under his fingers, and he was only faintly aware of the asphalt under his feet. I could drive home. Fuck Sora. Drive back. No one would have to know. And so and so forth his thoughts continued. It was just his state of mind, hyperaware and hyperaroused, and he didn't really want to know what Sora's blowjobs felt like. He didn't really want his best friend moving against him. Right? They'd only kissed, and while it had been heated, hands wandering, that was as far as he'd ever been with Sora. Sora Sora Sora Sora.
The customary haze of smoke welcomed him as he walked in the front door of Vista, Naminé and Hayner sitting on the couch, a bong between them.
"Hey," Naminé said warmly, and Roxas fought off the desire to roll his eyes. How many times had he seen her greet a newcomer in the exact same manner, only to turn to someone and talk shit as soon as the person left the room? How many times did she put on the "I'm fine" face, and then latter blog about it like she was the only person in the world with a problem? Naminé was always fake happy, pleasant and cordial happy. She looked nice in a dress, but the girl was a liar.
"Hey." He jutted his chin out at Hayner, the universal male greeting, and received a chin jut in return, Hayner's glazed eyes trailing lazily over his body. Roxas found that he liked the attention. "Drinks?" he asked, looking toward the kitchen.
"Go for it," Hayner said, taking another hit off the bong. Roxas wondered if a contact high counted as "doing" drugs. Ever since Riku suggested they quit, he'd done his best to stay away from typical Vista fare. Staring at the bottle of Popov on the disgusting counter, he wondered if drinking shitty vodka counted as "doing" drugs. You drink, or you go back out there and sit in Hayner's lap. Decide. Roxas made a face at the Popov and walked back into the living room… where Hayner and Naminé were making out. He could've thought about it a little bit, how even though both of them were "gay"—obviously in Hayner's case, though he always kind of figured Naminé was full of shit and just tired of all the assholes she'd been with—it was still possible for them to make out like the world was ending. Instead of thinking about it, Roxas turned back into the kitchen, grabbed the bottle of Popov, and headed for the backyard. Cockblocked. Everywhere I turn. Cockblocked. Fucking fake lesbian bitch.
Little Vista's backyard looked more like an abandoned overgrown lot than a real backyard, patches of knee-high grass packed down in circles from various groups of potheads, charred spots from random makeshift bonfires. Roxas, swigging from the bottle of vodka, was interested in finding a soft and shady portion of grass to drink himself silly, drown out all semblance of thought, but instead he found Demyx. While it was customary to find Demyx with a guitar in hand, or at least a bottle of alcohol, Demyx was sitting, knees drawn up to his chest, in the middle of the backyard with nothing at all but a somber expression.
"Hey," Roxas said, plopping down next to the boy and extending the bottle of Popov.
Demyx took a pull and handed it back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand like they do in movies. "Hey."
"What's going on?" Roxas thought of freshman year, of singing for hours with Demyx and Xigbar. He remembered thinking then that they were his new life, his new friends that would replace the way he fucked up with Riku and the way Sora was in his blood. Demyx was supposed to have become his new best friend. Now they hardly spoke. Things change.
"Girlfriend broke up with me," Demyx shrugged.
"Why?"
"Dunno."
Roxas tried to have a positive thought about the small brunette who flitted around Demyx, cute in an innocuous sort of way, but the vodka was starting to kick in. In fact, he couldn't have a positive thought about a single member of the opposite sex. "Girls are bitches."
"Yeah," Demyx said, reaching for the bottle again. "But I don't blame her or anything. Getting along with other people is hard."
What? "I dunno, Dem, I get along with you pretty well."
"No," Demyx said, smiling softly. "I mean, we can hang out and stuff, but not to the extent where we're like the best of friends." Demyx glanced at him, handing the bottle back. "Don't get me wrong, you're cool, but… it's different. That's why it's hard to find really good friends."
"…I have no idea what you're saying," Roxas said stupidly.
"I'm just ranting," Demyx shrugged. "We try to blame shit on other people all the time. We all fuck up, all the time, so it's everyone's fault… and no one's. Can't get hung up on blame. Let life happen, y'know?"
Roxas frowned, feeling the vodka wreak havoc in his stomach. "How the fuck are you so optimistic?"
Demyx laughed, rubbing at his eyes. "How the fuck are you not? Life is awesome, Rox."
Roxas snorted, backwashing a little into the mouth of the bottle. "Alright, Dem."
"I'm serious. I mean, I get down just like the rest of us, but on bad days I go outside and look at the beach and remember that I'm alive. I can get up and leave, take myself out of bad situations. The world is seventy percent water. That's a lot of water. Our bodies are seventy percent water. Or liquid or something. The point is that… we're fluid. We're not trapped here. If life sucks for you where you are, leave and make it better."
"Easier said than done," Roxas said, peeling off the label from the bottle.
"Of course it is. Everything is easier said than done."
Roxas chewed on his bottom lip, already having trouble stringing together the right words. When did the sun go down? "I need some of those happy pills you're on, man."
Demyx stared at Roxas, smiling the same soft, slightly sad, smile. "You need to let yourself be happy, Roxas."
"Easier said than done," they said together, followed immediately by a burst of laughter.
"I'm drunk," Roxas said, slumping against Demyx's shoulder. "We drank half the bottle."
"We?" Demyx laughed, patting Roxas on the head. "You wanna grab a burrito? I'm starving."
"I just ate like five million peaches. Didn't you have lunch?"
"…I've been here since she broke up with me last night. Right here is where it happened."
"Oh my god, dude." That means he really is starving. And Axel probably had to eat lunch alone until Zexion showed up. And I didn't call him at all today. Shit.
"Yeah, you're wasted. I'm gunna go grab something. You want me to bring anything back?"
"I'm gunna," Roxas said, attempting to get to his feet, "go back to the dorms."
"Whoa, you can't even stand. Are you sure you ate before you drank this shit?"
"Peaches," Roxas said, nodding. "Amazing."
Demyx looked at him worriedly. "You sure you're gunna be fine? Not gunna fall off the bluffs?"
Though a waist-high chain link fence stood at the edge of the bluffs, it was still common for a plastered kid or two to somehow fall off the edge and wind up dead on the sand below every year. Sophomore year a kid Roxas had class with ended up dead, discovered by a morning jogger. Roxas remembered walking to the spot on the beach where the body was supposedly found. He remembered staring at the spot and feeling something akin to anger.
"I'm fine," Roxas said, already stumbling his way toward the dorms.
"I'm going to check up on you later, okay?"
"Bring the happy pills," Roxas called over his shoulder, raising a hand and flapping it around.
Demyx, he thought, tripping over his feet every couple steps. Demyx is a nice guy. Nice lips. Great laugh, almost like… a giggle. I'd fuck him. His hands moved toward his phone before he figured out what they were doing. He couldn't figure out who he was calling until he realized there was only one number he'd be able to dial even if he was blindfolded and both of his arms had been chopped off.
"Rox?"
"Hey, baby."
Sora laughed brightly. "Baby?"
"I want you so bad, Sora."
More laughter, and Roxas moaned lightly as Sora's voice called out goosebumps on the back of his neck. "I can't believe you drunk dialed me, Roxie." There was the distinct noise of Sora hopping onto his bed. "How bad do you want me?"
"…Mm, bad," Roxas said, voice taking on the quality of a sleepy toddler.
"You want me to make you come?"
"God, yes," Roxas said, trying another key before he realized the dorm he was standing in front of wasn't even his own. The door was propped open with a flip-flop, so Roxas hauled the door back, wandering two doors down and to the right, knocking with drunken determination. Where am I?
"Rox?"
"I'll call you later, Riku."
"Riku?"
"What?"
Another giggle. "Sleep it off, Rox."
As Sora ended the call, the door in front of Roxas opened. Axel smiled at the blonde, phone still pressed to his ear, until his grin faltered, brow furrowing.
"You drunk or something?"
"I—" Want you so bad I can taste it. Fuck me now, love me later. "I—"
"Here," Axel said, pulling Roxas in by the arm. "Sit your drunk ass down and drink some water."
Roxas stumbled in and collapsed on Axel's bed. He didn't realize the pillow was clutched to his chest and he was inhaling deeply, probably groaning, until he heard Axel laughing. He peeled the pillow away from his face and stared up at the redhead, one hand leaning against the top bunk, bent forward with a water bottle in his hand. Look at his face. He doesn't want me at all.
"Enjoying that fresh laundry scent?"
"You," Roxas said stupidly, accepting the water and chugging it with abandon.
"Me?" Axel asked, shoving Roxas' legs over and sitting on the edge of the mattress.
"Smells like you." STOP RIGHT NOW. STOP TALKING.
"You like the way I smell."
"Mm," Roxas agreed, batting at Axel's arm with the now empty bottle of water. The dull thunk made him giggle. "I'm bored." Let's fuck.
"I was watching this documentary on Chichen Itza."
"Laaame," Roxas said, extending the word until Axel laughed again.
"Man, you are fucking wasted. What would you rather watch?"
You. On my dick. Now. "Porn."
"Why? You wanna have like, a circle jerk or something? And by 'circle,' I mean the two of us jacking off to Demyx's straight porn."
"Friends… watch porn together."
"I don't know about you and your friends, Roxas, sucking each other's dicks and shit, but I'm pretty sure regular friends talk or… walk around or something."
"Wait, so," Roxas slurred, gesturing at nothing, "so real friends walk and talk. Wow."
"Go home, Roxas."
"No," Roxas said, sitting up. "I want to know what kind of friends we are."
"The kind that smoke drugs and watch porn together, apparently."
"That's what I thought, bitch," Roxas said, pointing at the T.V.
The porn, shoved under Demyx's mattress, was called "Cum Dumpsters 7." Axel kept a running commentary as the plotless scenes unfolded, creating histories for each character. At one point the redhead paused the DVD and explained to Roxas how "fucking unbelievably hot this guy is," some thin-limbed brunette with emo hair and an eight inch dick. Watching the emo kid pound his way to orgasm, Roxas couldn't help but think that this must mean he had some hope. I mean, if he was with Hayner. And Zexion. And like everyone ever except me, then he can't really have too much of a type. Still drunk, Roxas decided to be a little bold.
"He doesn't look like your type."
Axel chuckled, waving Roxas off. "You have no idea what my type is."
"Manly men," Roxas countered. "Huge dudes with muscles and like… raaar."
"The guys at the bar? Roxas, I don't think you know… enough about the situation."
"What?" Seriously, what?
"Well. You act like I have sex with random ass guys every weekend. Do you know how many times I would've contracted AIDS and shit if that was really happening?"
Roxas shrugged. "I dunno."
"You must think I'm like the biggest slut ever. I mean, I like sex, but I usually see the same couple of guys. I don't make friends with a stranger's dick every weekend. That's… not who I am."
"…Oh." What?
"I mean, yeah, whatever, I fuck around a lot, but not with complete strangers. Unless I'm really fucked up, I won't let them fuck me if we're meeting for the first time. Like, uh, I guess he told you, but I blew your roommate."
"Yeah." God, kill me now.
"I try not to have sex with people I know or see a lot, but fun is fun, right? Except that blonde asshole at Little Vista."
"Hayner?"
"Yeah, that bitch. We fucked a couple times."
Why are you telling me this? "He sucked my dick."
"Finally. Did you like it?"
Roxas shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. "I came."
"No shit, but did you like it."
Roxas thought about Hayner's mouth, sliding over him. Riku was better. "Not really."
"You can tell me if I'm freaking you out. I have no one to talk about this shit with, so it's kinda… blah, all over you."
"It's cool." No, it's not. "Friends are supposed to tell each other things."
Axel smiled, pulling Roxas into his lap. "You're fucking cute."
"Cool."
The porn continued in the background as Roxas felt his eyes slip closed, slumped back against Axel's chest. It felt so warm in Axel's arms, but not in that stifling way that feels like you can't breathe. It's nice. Axel's hand was in his hair, thin fingers combing through tufts, fingertips rubbing lightly at his scalp.
"Meow," Roxas said lightly. He couldn't help it, nuzzling the touch sleepily.
"Sleep," Axel said, the touch turning into a stroke, smoothing his hair down.
Roxas drifted away, following dream kittens as their twitched their tails, beckoning him away into a cloud. Before he lost consciousness completely, Roxas remembered something Axel said earlier.
"So what type?"
"Hmm?" Axel's hand now at his neck, fingers moving back and forth with a movement so slight it was almost unnoticeable.
"You said I don't know your type. What type?"
Axel was quite for a long time, the gentle touch at the blonde's neck lulling him into a pleasant hum. Finally, and in a voice that Roxas heard from far away, hidden behind clouds and impossible distance, Axel said, "Blondes. Small, cute blondes."