(no subject)
[Who] Axel, open.
[Where] Wandering Metropolis for now...
[When] Late afternoon.
[What] Axel does think, sometimes.
[Notes] Uhm. All of my muses are awake, and my Axel muse is in a...weird mood. That's..it? Edit: Uhm. Wow. Emo? Confusion? Justification? I'm not really sure what this is.
Sometimes Axel wonders if it's easier to run.
No, he knows it is, but that's the reason why he never has. He's never run from a fight, never run from confrontation, from a friend. Axel's never been one for doing things the easy way because..well...easy is boring, and Axel doesn't think he's a boring guy.
Or maybe he is.
Axel isn't sure what he is anymore. Who he is. Roxas tells him he's still the same old Axel, only now he has a heart...or something, he doesn't really remember.
He can't think.
Sighing, Axel comes to a stop at the end of the street, shoes shuffling quietly against the ground. He purses his lips and closes his eyes, pushing his fingers up into his hair. His head is pouding and his pulse is echoing in his ears and he just wants it all to stop.
Axel drops his hands and lifts his head slowly, opening his eyes. He's at the end of Mercy Street, so close that the fronts of his boots are sprinkled with rain every now and then. He can feel the cool mist of it on his face, and pushing his hands into his pockets, he steps forward into it, into the rain.
Axel has never really liked the rain, and he doesn't think he ever will. It's bothersome and cold and disgusting, but somehow, this time, it's relaxing at the same time. Relaxing and disgusting. Just the thought of both sensations happening in unison makes him laugh, but it's bitter and short and he's not really sure if it really is that funny.
What he does find funny, though, is how just about everyone he knows (save for two or three people) wants to see him dead or maimed or suffering or all of the above. It's funny, because he never really used to care what other people thought about him. Or maybe he did, and he just told himself he didn't.
It doesn't matter, though, because he cares now. It bothers him that the only people who are really happy to see him are Roxas, Xigbar, and Demyx, and even then he's only sure about one of them, about Roxas.
Axel can't ever remember a time that he was truly, genuinely scared. He can remember being worried, jumpy, disappointed, but never scared. Not until now. He can remember the way Roxas had looked after Saix had had a go, how pale his skin had been against the deep red of his own blood seeping through his clothes. He can remember the cloudiness of the boy's bright blue eyes and how dull they'd looked, how gray. He can remember how incredibly scared, how terrified he'd been that Roxas might be gone, that he was dead.
Some part of the red head can't help but think that it was supposed to be him that Saix went after, not Roxas. He should have been the one fighting, the one bleeding for everything he'd done wrong, for all his sins. Some part of him tells him that he was supposed to fight, and he was supposed to die, because that's what everyone wanted.
Axel stops in the middle of the street and leans his head back, closing his eyes once more and letting the rain wash over him in the alley of life and death. His skin is crawling under the fall of rain but he doesn't move from that spot. Instead, he takes his hands from his pockets and holds his arms out at his sides, palms upturned.
Is there really a point? Is there an actual reason he was put here in Metropolis? he can't help but wonder. ...Roxas is here, and for that he is grateful. He is grateful he's had a chance to see the boy once more, his final wish before his death granted, but why? He's no good for Roxas, all he does is cause trouble for the boy and that's the last thing he ever wants. To cause trouble, to get in the way.
To be a burden.
To everyone.
Sighing heavily, Axel's shoulder's slump a little and he can only come up with one good question to ask himself. "...Why?"
[Where] Wandering Metropolis for now...
[When] Late afternoon.
[What] Axel does think, sometimes.
[Notes] Uhm. All of my muses are awake, and my Axel muse is in a...weird mood. That's..it? Edit: Uhm. Wow. Emo? Confusion? Justification? I'm not really sure what this is.
Sometimes Axel wonders if it's easier to run.
No, he knows it is, but that's the reason why he never has. He's never run from a fight, never run from confrontation, from a friend. Axel's never been one for doing things the easy way because..well...easy is boring, and Axel doesn't think he's a boring guy.
Or maybe he is.
Axel isn't sure what he is anymore. Who he is. Roxas tells him he's still the same old Axel, only now he has a heart...or something, he doesn't really remember.
He can't think.
Sighing, Axel comes to a stop at the end of the street, shoes shuffling quietly against the ground. He purses his lips and closes his eyes, pushing his fingers up into his hair. His head is pouding and his pulse is echoing in his ears and he just wants it all to stop.
Axel drops his hands and lifts his head slowly, opening his eyes. He's at the end of Mercy Street, so close that the fronts of his boots are sprinkled with rain every now and then. He can feel the cool mist of it on his face, and pushing his hands into his pockets, he steps forward into it, into the rain.
Axel has never really liked the rain, and he doesn't think he ever will. It's bothersome and cold and disgusting, but somehow, this time, it's relaxing at the same time. Relaxing and disgusting. Just the thought of both sensations happening in unison makes him laugh, but it's bitter and short and he's not really sure if it really is that funny.
What he does find funny, though, is how just about everyone he knows (save for two or three people) wants to see him dead or maimed or suffering or all of the above. It's funny, because he never really used to care what other people thought about him. Or maybe he did, and he just told himself he didn't.
It doesn't matter, though, because he cares now. It bothers him that the only people who are really happy to see him are Roxas, Xigbar, and Demyx, and even then he's only sure about one of them, about Roxas.
Axel can't ever remember a time that he was truly, genuinely scared. He can remember being worried, jumpy, disappointed, but never scared. Not until now. He can remember the way Roxas had looked after Saix had had a go, how pale his skin had been against the deep red of his own blood seeping through his clothes. He can remember the cloudiness of the boy's bright blue eyes and how dull they'd looked, how gray. He can remember how incredibly scared, how terrified he'd been that Roxas might be gone, that he was dead.
Some part of the red head can't help but think that it was supposed to be him that Saix went after, not Roxas. He should have been the one fighting, the one bleeding for everything he'd done wrong, for all his sins. Some part of him tells him that he was supposed to fight, and he was supposed to die, because that's what everyone wanted.
Axel stops in the middle of the street and leans his head back, closing his eyes once more and letting the rain wash over him in the alley of life and death. His skin is crawling under the fall of rain but he doesn't move from that spot. Instead, he takes his hands from his pockets and holds his arms out at his sides, palms upturned.
Is there really a point? Is there an actual reason he was put here in Metropolis? he can't help but wonder. ...Roxas is here, and for that he is grateful. He is grateful he's had a chance to see the boy once more, his final wish before his death granted, but why? He's no good for Roxas, all he does is cause trouble for the boy and that's the last thing he ever wants. To cause trouble, to get in the way.
To be a burden.
To everyone.
Sighing heavily, Axel's shoulder's slump a little and he can only come up with one good question to ask himself. "...Why?"