(no subject)
Sooo i started an akuroku fic but I'm not sure if i like it so far. i feel like its poorly written aand any other scenes i have in mind are really hard tto writet about. you think i should continue
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It was November 29th, he thinks, a Saturday afternoon at around...--he's struggling to remember--oh! around 2 pm. Why does he remember so clearly the exact date, the exact time, when he can't even remember where he slept last night? Maybe it's because he's not hopped up on dozens of multi-colored pills and doesn't have three-fourths of liquir bubbling in his tummy. Or maybe it's because the guy who died that day, just happened to be his best friend. Or maybe it's because said best friend reminds him every few days or so.
But to put it in a cheesy and totally Hallmark-y kind of way, Axel says, "Our friendship was so strong that you couldn't be sent to the afterlife or wherever the fuck dead people go." His words are pretty slurred and as he talks, he swings his half-empty half-full beer bottle around for emphasis.
Roxas in his spot beside his friend rolls those pretty eyes of his and asks, "Since when does Hallmark use the word 'Fuck?''
Axel pauses, glazed green eyes looking inquisitive for just a second. The only time in maybe years Axel has ever thought about something so hard. Aside from who the fuck had started that fire. "Fuck should I know." He hisses, the overbearing scent of alchohol wafting to Roxas' nostrils. He scrunches up his nose.
"Even when i'm here, you still drink enough to pass out. Don't you want to remember the times we have?" Roxas asks as he reaches forward, taking the bottle from Axel's shaking hand and holding it up and out of reach.
"Roxaaaas!" Axel whines, getting on all fours and slinking towards Roxas like a cat, feline and agile. "Your always here though. C'mon, gimme." He says in an unnatractive whine voice. In his drunk stupor, he doesn't mind begging and doesn't mind jutting his lower lip out in a pout, eyes big like a puppy dog. Axel crawls over his friend's smaller body, lip slowly sliding over his lips for reasons Roxas wasn't too sure about. Probably thinking about how good alchohol was. Roxas held his arm high, his baby blues staring into the lean man above him.
"What are you doing?" Roxas asks, closing his eyes when Axel brought his face near milimeters away from Roxas', his lips closing in against Roxas' jaw. He always tries to touch, always tries to make some sort of contact. He wants to feel his fingertips graze a part of Roxas. Any part of Roxas. But... "You can never--"
"But I can try." Axel says interupptingly, reaching up and towards Roxas' face, fingers moving slowly, reaching to cup the boy's delicate chin. But when he tries to touch, his fingers move swiftly through air, fizzling and foggy as Axel's fingers remain inside the hallographic-image of his best friend. But he wasn't a hollogram, no, he was simply dead.
With a frustrated growl he lets his body collapse--not onto the boy supposedly underneath him--but the cushions on the couch. The old dingy piece of furniture squeaks under the pressure of a body.
"Ghost, remember?" Roxas says from his new position, standing above Axel, who lay face-down in his old blue couch. His image was so real, not hazy or foggy like the ghosts seen in old movies. He was a bright, solid figure that to Axel, was so decieving, so touchable, so real. Real, even after seeing the scorched corpse of his friend. Skin charred and black but in front of him, Roxas' skin exotic and tan. Did it freak Axel the fuck out? Not really, he's seen crazier things when on acid.
"No shit." Axel responds, words muffled from its current position: buried in between the cushions of the couch. He turns, eyes narrowing at his friend, who in turn smirks.
"What's wrong?" Roxas asks, hands behind his back and clutching Axel's precious liquor. He watches as Axel sits up on his forearms, eyes wide as he remembers just what it was he was crawling over Roxas for.
"Where's my beer?" Axel slurrs, sitting up and heading drunkenly towards Roxas. "Hand the motherfucking beer over." Axel orders and after a moment of hesitation, Roxas scoffs and offers his friend the bottle. Axel takes it, mout spreading into a wide smile and as he sits there, lips nuzzled around the opening of the glass bottle of liquor, he wonders if he holds onto it so tight because he can't do the same to Roxas.
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There's one more scene but I don't want to post tooo much.
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It was November 29th, he thinks, a Saturday afternoon at around...--he's struggling to remember--oh! around 2 pm. Why does he remember so clearly the exact date, the exact time, when he can't even remember where he slept last night? Maybe it's because he's not hopped up on dozens of multi-colored pills and doesn't have three-fourths of liquir bubbling in his tummy. Or maybe it's because the guy who died that day, just happened to be his best friend. Or maybe it's because said best friend reminds him every few days or so.
But to put it in a cheesy and totally Hallmark-y kind of way, Axel says, "Our friendship was so strong that you couldn't be sent to the afterlife or wherever the fuck dead people go." His words are pretty slurred and as he talks, he swings his half-empty half-full beer bottle around for emphasis.
Roxas in his spot beside his friend rolls those pretty eyes of his and asks, "Since when does Hallmark use the word 'Fuck?''
Axel pauses, glazed green eyes looking inquisitive for just a second. The only time in maybe years Axel has ever thought about something so hard. Aside from who the fuck had started that fire. "Fuck should I know." He hisses, the overbearing scent of alchohol wafting to Roxas' nostrils. He scrunches up his nose.
"Even when i'm here, you still drink enough to pass out. Don't you want to remember the times we have?" Roxas asks as he reaches forward, taking the bottle from Axel's shaking hand and holding it up and out of reach.
"Roxaaaas!" Axel whines, getting on all fours and slinking towards Roxas like a cat, feline and agile. "Your always here though. C'mon, gimme." He says in an unnatractive whine voice. In his drunk stupor, he doesn't mind begging and doesn't mind jutting his lower lip out in a pout, eyes big like a puppy dog. Axel crawls over his friend's smaller body, lip slowly sliding over his lips for reasons Roxas wasn't too sure about. Probably thinking about how good alchohol was. Roxas held his arm high, his baby blues staring into the lean man above him.
"What are you doing?" Roxas asks, closing his eyes when Axel brought his face near milimeters away from Roxas', his lips closing in against Roxas' jaw. He always tries to touch, always tries to make some sort of contact. He wants to feel his fingertips graze a part of Roxas. Any part of Roxas. But... "You can never--"
"But I can try." Axel says interupptingly, reaching up and towards Roxas' face, fingers moving slowly, reaching to cup the boy's delicate chin. But when he tries to touch, his fingers move swiftly through air, fizzling and foggy as Axel's fingers remain inside the hallographic-image of his best friend. But he wasn't a hollogram, no, he was simply dead.
With a frustrated growl he lets his body collapse--not onto the boy supposedly underneath him--but the cushions on the couch. The old dingy piece of furniture squeaks under the pressure of a body.
"Ghost, remember?" Roxas says from his new position, standing above Axel, who lay face-down in his old blue couch. His image was so real, not hazy or foggy like the ghosts seen in old movies. He was a bright, solid figure that to Axel, was so decieving, so touchable, so real. Real, even after seeing the scorched corpse of his friend. Skin charred and black but in front of him, Roxas' skin exotic and tan. Did it freak Axel the fuck out? Not really, he's seen crazier things when on acid.
"No shit." Axel responds, words muffled from its current position: buried in between the cushions of the couch. He turns, eyes narrowing at his friend, who in turn smirks.
"What's wrong?" Roxas asks, hands behind his back and clutching Axel's precious liquor. He watches as Axel sits up on his forearms, eyes wide as he remembers just what it was he was crawling over Roxas for.
"Where's my beer?" Axel slurrs, sitting up and heading drunkenly towards Roxas. "Hand the motherfucking beer over." Axel orders and after a moment of hesitation, Roxas scoffs and offers his friend the bottle. Axel takes it, mout spreading into a wide smile and as he sits there, lips nuzzled around the opening of the glass bottle of liquor, he wonders if he holds onto it so tight because he can't do the same to Roxas.
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There's one more scene but I don't want to post tooo much.