Waiting at the Airport (Chapter 2)
Axel barely made it through the security gate before he turned to a tall plastic trashcan and emptied the contents of his stomach. People stared as he heaved into the paper thin bag that lined the bin. The smell of left over pepperoni pizza, now covered in putrid pink chunks, made his stomach queasier, and he stumbled away feeling less woozy but worse due to the missing effects of the alcohol he had just lost. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve before he leaned against a navy blue wall. His car was collecting a hefty parking fee, but he wasn’t going to drive anywhere in the state he was in. Axel heard too many sob stories about all that shit.
Worries that would have vanished in a more drunken state clouded his mind. He needed to hail a cab to return to the home, which he shared with Roxas. Which he used to share with Roxas. Rotting where he stood seemed like a better alternative since he didn’t have the will to move his weighted limbs. Axel wished his existence away as he closed his eyes and dropped his head against the cool cement wall. Maybe if he lay in a hidden corner of the airport, he could just go unnoticed until an unfortunate airport employee discovered his decaying corpse. But that required days of being sober and dying, things that terrified him at this point. Placing one foot in front of the other, he made it to the escalator and accepted the loss of control as the automated stairs carried him to the lower level.
“Hey, you!” A large muscular black security guard stormed over to Axel as his foot caught the stationary edge at the bottom. “Weren’t you the one that we had an issue with earlier?”
“I just need to get a cab.” Axel looked up to find that he was in the dreaded ticketing area of Terminal B. Taking a few steps forward, he allowed the couple behind him to walk pass.
“You need to go to the other side of the pedestrian bridge. I am going to have to escort you out-”
“Look, it’s that fairy.” A slurred voice came from the ordinary stairs adjacent to the escalator behind him. The five men from the bar stumbled down the staircase.
“Gentlemen, can I help you?” the deep voice of the security guard boomed.
“Yeah, you can kick his ass out for us.” The one that Axel had spoken to gritted his teeth, balled his fists and tripped over his feet.
“Cool it. I’m just going to escort him -” the black man started.
“You’re a fucking sicko, you know that?” Axel had never talked to the jackass that had just spoken. The guy, who had a damn straw cowboy hat on, squeezed the blonde’s shoulder for moral support. The hollowness in Axel’s chest prevented him from being concerned with the meaningless sounds coming out of the man’s mouth.
“Look, I don’t know-” the security guard said.
“Burn in hell, where you belong,” one of the other men said, causing Axel to roll his eyes.
“Stop,” the security guard shouted as he shook, “interrupting me!”
A racial slur, which Axel could never get drunk enough to say in front a large black man in control, popped out of the cowboy wannabe’s mouth and sank the conversation like a lead anchor. The inebriated shorter man tottered away from his friend as an eerie silence descended upon the group.
“What did you just say?” Professionalism was damned as the black man grabbed a red jersey. The cowboy hat flew off and landed at Axel’s feet, exposing an outgrown crew cut.
“N-nothing.”
What followed was a slew of loud curses from the security guard and the five men, who were trying in vain to get the security guard to calm down. Axel took a few steps back unnoticed by the gathering crowd. Turning away from the scene, he pulled at the banister and pulled his body up the stairs.
White and yellow taxis lined up behind the booth containing the dispatcher, but Axel couldn’t bring himself to walk through the sliding glass doors into the bitter cold. The alcohol running through his veins caused the room to sway but his jumbled thoughts were still coherent enough to want more. A deep desire to erase the ache, to drown it until it didn’t matter anymore crept into him and took control. He dealt by lingering in a state of limbo before he had to face his life without Roxas.
The luggage conveyer belt sounded a loud alarm bell as the gears began to wind and the belt squealed to life. Axel weaved over to a row of black chairs and slumped into one of them. Feeling nauseous again, he rolled his neck around to locate a trashcan, just in case. A pair of legs jutted away from a column near the closest trashcan. Axel’s eyes followed the legs up to a pair of folded hands and a familiar bowed head.
“Demyx?” Axel called out. Roxas and Axel’s mutual friend opened his eyes, looked up, and whipped his head around. The droopy spikes on top of his mullet and red blotches on his face marred his usual demeanor.
“Axel?!” Demyx’s swollen blue green eyes widened as he scrambled up from his position on the floor and rushed over. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I saw your car in the lot. I tried to call you a million times, but your phone was turned off. I circled the damn place at least a dozen times. Some Delta chick tried to sucker me into buying a ticket to get into the terminal and not use it.”
“Why did you bother?”
“I-I was worried that-” Demyx paused and slumped into the seat next to Axel. “That you were going to do something stupid.”
“Huh.”
“They’re gone.” Demyx voice cracked, but he didn’t waver. Placing his head into his hand, he closed his eyes before concealing them. “They’re really gone.”
Axel sat stunned for a sluggish minute before he realized that Demyx wasn’t just mourning the loss of a friend like he had originally thought. The other half of the ‘they’ that the other man was referring to was his own significant other. The deceased had gone to some damn conference together after all. But it didn’t comfort Axel that the two had died together, each of them being the last person that the other had seen alive before coming to a harrowing end. Nor did it make him feel better or worse that Demyx could have been going through the same thing that he was. Axel was just painfully empty.
“Shut up, Demyx,” he said as he focused his eyes on a row of blurry black suitcases, sliding down the chute and toppling onto the circling belt. Axel rested his head on Demyx’s shoulder.
“Have you been drinking?” Demyx rubbed his eyes before taking a deep breath, causing unwanted movement under Axel’s head.
“What do you think?”
“Uh - are you supposed to?”
“What the fuck kind of question is that? I do whatever I want, whenever I want.”
“Cut it out, Axel.” Demyx shifted again as Axel rolled away from him. “Roxas wouldn’t want you to be like this.”
“It doesn’t matter. He’s not here anymore. It doesn’t fucking matter what I do.”
“They are in a better place.” Demyx stared hard beyond the tiny specks on the floor.
“Fuck you.” Axel stood up because he couldn’t sit still anymore. Demyx followed suit and held Axel’s elbow for support. “Fuck you and your stupid bullshit.”
“Come on. I’ll take you home.”
“I don’t want to go.” Axel turned into Demyx and leaned heavily into his friend. As they embraced, Axel closed his eyes and allowed the other man to drive his sharp chin into his chest, to curl his head into Axel and bury the tears. How long they stood there was unknown as time seemed to stand still while the broken man shook under Axel’s arms. He heard the footsteps of people scurrying by, busy with their everyday lives: arguing about the ravished luggage, recounting the events of their vacation, complaining about how much they spent.
“Ahem.” Axel felt the presence of someone in front of him as a nearby traveler cleared his throat. Feeling drained, he slowly lifted his heavy eyelids and blinked a few times before a blurry scowling man with blue-grey hair came to focus. Axel’s dead reflexes jolted back to life as the man glared intently through the eye not concealed by his hair at the two of them.
“Holy fucking shit.” Axel couldn’t tear his eyes off of the man. “It’s Zexion.”
“That’s not funny, Axel.” Demyx stiffened before wiping his wet red cheeks roughly with his wrist.
“I’m not joking,” Axel said. The solid apparition swept the hair out of his eye, giving Axel a haughty look that made him want to solve extra-hard Sudoku games faster to prove some obscure alpha male point... or punch Zexion in the face.
“Zexion!” Demyx cried out after turning around. Squeezing him into a tight hug he held the stationary man caught by an unnatural, surprised expression. “You’re alright. Oh, thank God. You’re alright.”
“Roxas?” Axel whispered, his chest swelling with hope.
“It’s entirely his fault. That-” Zexion began.
“Is he with you?” Axel asked, not wanting his hopes to shatter his brittle soul when they fell back to the earth.
“What is the matter with the two of you?” Zexion spoke more towards Demyx than Axel as he held the blond who wouldn’t let go.
“Just tell me where-” Roxas, Axel’s Roxas, was perched at the top of the stairs lugging a small neon orange suitcase. Forgetting about the existence of the other two men, Axel sprinted as fast as his drunken body would allow towards the blond. His uncontrollable elation was so strong he could barely contain its echo bouncing, pounding in his floating mind; he held his breath to keep it in. Every fiber, every cell, every single atom in his body, charged orbiting electrons and all, rejoiced as he closed the painful distance between the two of them at the bottom of the stairs.
“Hey, I didn’t think you’d be here.” Roxas’ droopy blue eyes sported grey bags not normally found under them. He snorted. “What are you wearing?”
Axel grasped Roxas’ shoulders and pulled him closer, attempting to squeeze all of his relief into the short man and grappling to transfer some of the emotions through raw, harsh contact.
“I was only gone for a week.” Roxas squirmed uncomfortably before prying Axel’s fingers away from his back.
Modesty, sanity, and all unspoken rules were trampled on and tossed away as Axel opened his mouth to profess an impromptu confession of undying need for the man standing in front of him. Instead of a train-wrecking speech, slimy yellow vomit flew out of his mouth after he took a quick step back, bent over, and hacked inches next to Roxas’s white sneakers.
“You’re drunk.” Roxas frowned, inspecting his shoes for any stray chunks.
“Aw, hell. You have no fucking clue what I had to go through today. I’ve been here forever. Please, let’s just get out of here.”
“Fine.” Roxas sighed and checked the vicinity for any witnesses before turning back to the stairs. “You drove, right?”
“Yeah.” Axel turned his head towards Demyx and Zexion as he leaned onto Roxas’ shoulders. Deep in conversation, the two didn’t look up as Axel raised his arm to get their attention.
“Uh- don’t bother. Zexion’s pissed at me.”
“Why, what happened?” Axel’s feet barely grounded his light body as they ascended the stairs. Draping his arm over the blond’s shoulders, he gave a quick squeeze before he let his yearning arm fall to his side.
“It’s a long story. He blames me for missing the plane.” As they reached the top of the stairs, Axel let go of the tightness that had built up in his chest. He wanted to snuggle in the warmth that the body next to him possessed, and the alcohol erased any inhibitions that he may have had that would prevent him from slipping his hand firmly on his blond’s waist.
“If you only knew. The plane that you were supposed to…” Axel hadn’t meant to slow his speak, but the remnants of dread was still fresh in his mind, making it hard for him to formulate what he wanted to say. Roxas raised an eyebrow. “I just-”
“You!” The couple looked down the hall to see the same red-faced short blond man that Axel had met at the bar.
“Shit,” Axel said as he pulled away from Roxas.
“Huh?” Roxas looked from the man to Axel and back at the man again.
“Why the fuck do I keep running into you?” The voice crescendoed as the man staggered towards the two of them. He pointed at Axel. “It’s all your fault.”
“Hey, you can’t talk to him like that,” Roxas said, but not without giving a puzzled look to Axel first.
“I gotta go to the damn county jail to bail Jim out because of you. Disorderly conduct and fucking public intoxication.” The man straightened up to add inches to his height.
“Just relax, alright?” Roxas said.
“Relax?! I’ll show you ‘relax’,” the man shouted, and Axel, who knew the result of being at the receiving end of this guy’s temper, lunged as the man brought his arm back to take a swing at Roxas. Blindly protecting as an act of unnecessary chivalry and trying to convey his fears by directing his balled up anger towards a man, who was willing to hurt the one thing that he had recently discovered that he cared so much for, Axel forced the man to smack against the wall.
“What is your problem?” Roxas asked the man, who now looked like he would burst into tears.
“If that bastard hadn’t-hadn’t…come on to me, it-”
“What?!” Roxas shouted as he swiveled the suitcase to his side in one quick, jerky motion.
“Fuck,” Axel said, closing his eyes.
“You two are…oh God.” The man paled and slid down the wall. Placing his head between his knees as soon as he hit the floor, he started to mumble. “City of brotherly love. Go fucking figure. We just had to have our layover here, didn’t we? They had to cancel our damn flight, didn’t they? And Jimmy had to shoot off his stupid mouth, didn’t he?”
During this man’s pitiful breakdown, Roxas had turned and stormed off towards the door leading to the parking garage, leaving Axel to totter along behind him. He didn’t know how the fuming blond had found a way to defy logic and walk at impossible speeds with legs that were probably half the length of his. Axel’s blissful bubble had not burst yet as he recalled the relief that had filled him when Roxas had arrived safe and sound. Roxas was not unreasonable and as long as Axel could properly explain his fuck-up-ery, he had nothing to worry about.
As soon as he opened the door to the outdoors, the cold air stung Axel’s exposed skin and painfully circulated through his lungs. Regretting his choice to leave his coat at home, Axel pressed his arms to his body to reduce amount of body heat lost in the wind. With just one hand stuffed deep into the pockets of his black wool jacket and the other around the plastic handle of the suitcase, Roxas waited by the nearest grey cement column, not looking directly at him.
“Where’s the car?” Roxas asked.
“Look, Roxas-” Axel started.
“Where is the car?”
“The second floor, I think.”
“Lead me there.”
Axel trudged through his cluttered memories, wandering around the garage for twenty fumbling, quiet minutes until he finally found sight of the dusty, red Honda civic. The tips of Roxas’ ears and nose as well as his cheeks were a raw shade of red, and Axel’s own nose tingled in response to the cold. As they stood at by the trunk of the car, Axel wondered why they weren’t hurrying to get out of the harsh cold.
“Keys,” Roxas said, the anger simmered under his tone, threatening to boil over.
“Huh?”
“Give me your keys.”
“Right.” Axel searched through his pockets and clasped his fingers around one of his clunky key chains. The small rubber ball dropped to the ground, causing Axel to smirk before bending down and teetering to retrieving it. He tossed the keys to Roxas, the suitcase was shoved in the back with vigor, and they climbed into the car. The key turned in the ignition, and Axel held his long fingers against the cool air trickling out of the vents, anticipating the warmth.
“You think this is funny?” Roxas asked as he pushed the clutch into reverse.
“No.” Axel felt his smirk slip away as he sighed in frustration.
“This is all just a joke to you, isn’t it?”
“Look, I just-”
“I don’t want to talk about it now.”
“What the fuck, Roxas? I don’t get a chance to explain what happened?”
“No.” The car veered back out of the spot, and Roxas maneuvered the Civic passed a variety of cars. Blues, reds, greens, silvers, shiny, dirty, old, and new whizzed by causing Axel’s nausea to return.
“You can’t avoid it when I’m right here.”
“Fine. Talk. I don’t care.”
“I thought you were dead.” The loud, irritating buzzer, which signified that the wrong answer had been uttered in a game show, went off in Axel’s hazy mind.
“What?”
“The plane that you were supposed to take… it crashed.”
“Are you serious?” Roxas glanced sideways at Axel, trying not to take his eyes away from the view in front of him.
“You think I would kid about shit like this?”
Roxas looked thoughtful for a moment. Axel recanted his last thoughts of the warning buzzer and felt faulty pieces fall into place. Until Roxas’s eyes narrowed.
“You mean to tell me that you hit on some random guy right after you thought I was dead?”
“I’m drunk. I mean, I was drunk… then.” The buzzer morphed into sirens and an alarm that repeated ‘Warning: this ship will self-destruct in one minute’.
“That’s supposed to make things all better?”
Axel knew that whatever was said could be taken the wrong way, regardless, so he settled on an awkward silence. The car slowed to a stop as it approached a booth. After rolling his window down, Roxas handed the attendant most of the bills in his wallet and shivered at the cold rushing in. The flimsy, yellow bar rose, and he took a few turns until he merged onto a busy road. In a few minutes, they were on the highway.
The lights along the highway caused Axel to lift his lazy eyelids each time one went by. Roxas turned on the radio station to talk radio, possibly as a vendetta against Axel in attempts to keep him awake. When the talking turned to shouting, which supposedly qualified as music since some drums and an electric guitar were involved, Axel’s suspicions were confirmed. The deafening song managed to lull him into an alcohol induced sleep.
The warm, fuzzy comforter covering his body could not blanket the throbbing pain devouring Axel’s every thought. Unlike the usual hangover, which he hadn’t had for quite awhile, his face, stomach, side, and head ached relentlessly. He cracked open his bleary eyes, acquiring a new layer of pain, as his dehydrated body punished him for the abuse he had put it through.
Groaning, he lay still for an undetermined amount of time, until he realized that no matter how long he tried to extract comfort from the plushy mattress, things were not going to get better. Still in yesterday’s clothes, he struggled to get his sore body to cooperate as he sat up. The sun beams peaked through the white mini blinds and kicked Axel in the head a few times.
The black digital clock on the small wooden stand next to the queen bed read 1:13. He stood up and took a few tentative steps away from the bed. The blood rushed away from his head, making him dizzy as he hobbled to the bathroom down the hall. After reaching the grey pedestal sink, he took the first step to recovery by taking four or five Advil. Then, he gulped down as much water as he could hold.
Inspecting his injuries in the oval mirror, he cringed at the purple bruise lining his left cheek bone. He titled his heavy head, thumbing his stubble to get a better look at the throbbing area near his right eye. A creak in the next room caught his attention and his thoughts went to what had happened yesterday.
An emotional hurricane swept through Axel as he pushed through his soreness and hustled out of the bathroom, through the hall, and down the stairs to find Roxas. He rushed through the living room and into the dining room. When the blond was not found, he stepped into the cluttered kitchen.
“Roxas?” Axel asked, trying to keep the desperate edge out of his voice. He couldn’t remember what had happened after he fell asleep in the car. It was Sunday, so Roxas was supposed to be here. He retraced his steps until he reached the first floor bathroom and flicked on the lights. He hitched when his eyes caught movement, but the disappointment hit hard went he realized it was his own reflection.
“Damn it.” Axel smacked the doorframe with the palm of his hand before retreating back up the stairs. Once in his bedroom, he snatched the cordless phone from off of the bed stand and nursed his temple with a gentle touch from the tip of his index finger. He yanked the dresser drawers open, fearing that most of its content would be absent, but sighed in relief at the sight of Roxas’ solid colored T-shirts.
After Axel walked out of the room, high on adrenaline, he punched a set of numbers on the phone and pushed open the door to the guest bedroom, just in case. He scanned the pale green room as the phone rang.
“You’ve reached Roxas’ voicemail. Leave a-” Axel hung up. He dialed a different set of numbers and went down the hall to climb the second set of stairs leading to the third floor. His side ached as he ascended the stairs.
“Hey there. I must be busy right now ‘cause you’ve reached this message. Just leave your name and number and maybe a brief description as to why you are calling me, or not. This is Demyx’s mailbox… by the way. Oh, shoot. Damn new phone. Zexion? Where’d I put the instruct-” Axel gripped the wooden railing at the top of the stairs as he waited for the beep.
“Demyx, if you’ve heard from Roxas today, call me back. If you do hear from him, tell him I am looking for him, and he better get his ass back home, alright?” He had a clear view of all of the unfinished rooms from where he stood. The opened doors let the lofty light from the sun filter through to the hallway. Axel squinted though the dust particles in the air and sighed at the disarray of the rooms.
The front room, the cranberry red one, was completely empty with the exception of several long pieces of molding scattered on the hardwood floor. The white one in the back was dubbed the ‘no no’ room and housed all of their crap, which included and Roxas’s old weight set and Axel’s large collection of vintage Zippos. The bathroom didn’t have the proper plumbing to hook anything up to, but the antique copper tub, which Roxas had sworn was bought at a great deal, sat uselessly in the middle of the blue tile floor. Regardless of how much that damn thing cost, it was not worth the time and effort it took for the two of them, with Demyx supervising, to lug up three flights of stairs.
Only one door amongst the four was shut, and Axel walked over to it, causing the floor to creak and groan under his bare feet. He knocked before turning the knob and forced the soft rubber flaps lining the top and bottom to squeal against the floor in protest.
“Roxas?” Axel’s eyes didn’t adjust to the single red light bulb swinging from the ceiling before he groped the wall and flipped the white light on. Evidence of Roxas’ earlier presence hung in rows above the tubs of chemicals sitting on a foldable table. The remaining liquid, clinging to the bottom edges, dripped off dozens of black and white photographs clipped to white yarn. Frozen images of beaches, rocks, mossy trees, quaint boutiques, and what looked like a Whole Food’s surrounded Axel, and he stared each one for a clue to how Roxas had spend his time while he was away.
Axel never really paid attention to Roxas’s hobby. The man stored his pictures in thin cardboard boxes after they were developed. Stacks of these boxes took residence in the ‘no no’ room, and the few photos that Axel had glanced at were of peculiar things like phone cords and fire hydrants. The photos before him seemed artsy as far as Axel knew. A big rock seemed like something an artist would take a picture of. Hell, they could frame it, slap it on the wall, and throw stuffy dinner parties so that people would ‘oohh’ and ‘aahh’ at it.
One picture didn’t belong in the group, and Axel snagged it off the string. Smirking, he rolled his eyes at a photo of himself flicking the camera off. Before he left for the beach, Roxas had told him that he was just letting the film catch the gears inside.
In fact, Roxas told him that every time he started a new roll of film. Axel stepped into the hallway, still looking at the picture, and yanked the door shut behind him. Sniffing his armpit, he wrinkled his nose and scratched at his scalp. He meandered down the hall, peering into the chaotic ‘no no’ room as he pressed down more spongy digits on the phone. The thin boxes were situated in the far corner of the room, and Axel’s curiosity drew him into the room.
“Dr. Zexion Th-”
“Hey, Zexion. Is Demyx there?” Axel asked as he climbed over the weight bench and stubbed his toe on a heavy cardboard box filled with text books. “Ow.”
“You shouldn’t call this line just to reach him, Axel. Besides, we’re… preoccupied,” a breathless voice said.
“Is that right?” Axel snorted, while hobbling around yellow plastic bins.
“Goodbye.”
“No, wait. I just wanted to ask Demyx if he talked to Roxas this morning.” Axel walked over a mound of old clothes that Roxas had promised to the Goodwill.
“No, he hasn’t. Bye-”
“You didn’t even ask him.”
“Did you try calling the Institute?” Zexion sighed.
“No, it’s Sunday. He’s wouldn’t be at work on a Sunday.”
“He may have mentioned to me yesterday that he intended to go in today.”
“Yeah?” Axel sat on the torn green lazy boy recliner in a corner and placed the photo on top one of the stacks of thin cardboard boxes on the floor.
“I informed him that it wasn’t necessary to put in the extra hours since he was just a part of technical staff.”
“I bet he liked that,” Axel mumbled. “Thanks, I’ll try calling him there.”
“I suppose I should thank him.” Zexion’s voice grew soft as he continued. “He did cause us to miss the plane.”
“Crazy, isn’t it?” Axel murmured.
“Goodbye, Axel.”
“Bye.” After the click, he used the speed dial that Roxas had programmed to call him at work. The phone stuck to Axel’s ear as he balanced it on his raised shoulder. He flipped open the top of the first box while the phone rang, allowing the picture on top to flutter to the stained cream carpet.
“Hello, Roxas Strife speaking.” His voice seemed distant.
“You should have told me you were going to work today.” Axel smiled at the warm familiarity of Roxas’s voice.
“What do you want?” His voice had gone rigid and cold like an ice pick ready to chip away at Axel’s spirit.
“I didn’t know where you were, and I got worried.” The first box of photos held pictures of flowers. Boring black and white flowers. After flipping through the pages like a flipbook, he tossed the box towards a rare empty spot on the carpeting.
“I’m fine, and I’m busy.”
“Okay. Take a break. What are you doing there anyways?”
“I can’t talk now.”
“You’re still mad about yesterday?”
“What do you think?”
“Look, you can’t blame me for what I do when I’m drunk.”
“So, whose fault is it?”
“No one’s.” Axel waited for a response but none came. “It’s just one of those things.”
“What do you want, Axel? What do you actually want?” The way that Roxas had asked the question, there was some cryptic meaning, another layer that Axel couldn’t see. He took a stab at it, hoping that he didn’t hit a vital organ or artery.
“I don’t want you to me mad at me anymore.” A click followed. “Hello?”
People who said that ‘the truth could set him free’ were now number one on Axel’s shit list. He tried to call Roxas two more times, letting it ring all five times before it switched to voicemail. On the third time, the call went right to it.
Sighing, he tucked the phone behind him, under the tattered cushion, and reached out to the second box in the stack. This box was filled with buildings. Again, boring black and white buildings. Axel took some time to replace the lid of the first box with the second, before he lobbed the second box onto the first one. This process continued. By the time he was in the middle of the stack, he had seen messy children, trees, woodland creatures, cars, bridges, domestic animals on leashes, and shops. All black and white, some more boring than others.
Axel grabbed the next box, flipped the lid off, and smiled like a kid who had found Waldo after hours of searching. On his lap sat a box brimming with pictures of him. Careful not to smudge his prints on them, he took them out one by one, laying them out on one of the oversized arms of the recliner. Most of them were of him in their living room staring at the television while Roxas had told him he was just letting the film catch. Different lighting and angles were used, and some of the photos zoomed in closer than Axel would have liked, exposing the small cracks on the surface of his skin. The smirk that he sported was prevalent in the pictures, but Roxas had gotten him surprised, angry, indifferent, and laughing. His eyes, lips, and even nose were frozen in a unique manner for each frame.
The first one that varied from the usual was at a child’s birthday party. The eldest child of Roxas’s two friends, Namine and Hayner, had turned three, and Axel had not appreciated being referred to as Uncle Axel by the damn kid. So, stories about boogiemen hiding under the bed and in the closet had to be told to get the kid to stop bugging him. The picture was taken before all that, and the boy was gleefully blowing out his colorful candles, while tugging on Axel’s jeans. The picture didn’t show when the kid was balling his little eyes out with snot running out of his tiny nose. Nor did it show Hayner on the verge of murdering Axel for the extra body between him and his wife for the next two months. Axel had slept on the couch that night. The stiff couch sucked royal ass, so he avoided pissing off Roxas’ friends from then on.
Another picture was taken at his brother’s second wedding. Axel, who had been forced to wear a tux, had an expression of utter disgust as he crossed his arms and glared at Reno, who was cutting the tall wedding cake with his blonde bimbo number two. All was not lost that day, however, since it was then that he discovered that Roxas had a thing for formalwear, especially bowties. Axel smirked at the memory of what they had done that night and where they had done it.
A plethora of pictures, which captured various events, brought so many memories back to Axel, causing the experiences, which they had shared in the past few years, to bunch into one realization for him. They had quite a history between them, and that historywas what meant so much to him. It was what they had done, where they had been together, which made it unbearable to imagine a future without Roxas.
The last picture wasn’t of Axel, but of Zexion and Demyx beaming at each other at their civil union ceremony in New Jersey. Well, Demyx was beaming, and Zexion was looking nervous. Zexion had written a vow in the form of a poem as a gift to Demyx, and it had taken every single ounce of strength in Axel’s mouth, abdomen, and whatever other muscle, voluntary or involuntary, involved in laughing to not bust up into hysteria. Even Roxas coughed a couple times to stifle a few laughs behind the camera as Zexion butchered the creativity in creative writing, each uttered word killing the art form, one blunt stab after another.
But Demyx was happy and Zexion, after kicking the shit out of his dignity, was still happy enough, so it worked.
Hours had gone by since Axel had woken, and he needed to smoke. The musty air clung to his day old clothes as he tried to straighten up the stack, adding the latest picture of himself into the top box. After climbing through the mess in the room and only knocking one of the ten pound weights off of its stand, he made it to the door. His bruises ached enough to maybe bitch to Roxas to score some sympathy points, but not enough to stop his craving for nicotine.
He descended both sets of stairs, maneuvered his way into the kitchen, and scanned the counter for his cigarettes, ignoring the rancid smell coming from the dirty dishes in the sink. They were nowhere to be found, and he checked his empty pockets in hopes that he left them there yesterday. He opened the cupboard door, where the remainder of the carton was, to check his stash. A huge void, where his cigarettes were supposed to be, mocked him with its cold, dark emptiness, which was seeping into Axel’s recently touched heart. Roxas had hidden his cigarettes, which meant two things. Roxas was undeniably pissed at Axel, and Axel was now undeniably pissed at Roxas.
It was around 6:00, and Axel ripped the books off of their dark bookshelf. The small decorative boxes that sat around the living room were the perfect size for hiding the cigarettes, and Axel had torn through all of them before he pulled the cushions off of the tan couch. After finding his cell phone buried deep within it, he took his frustrations out on the collection of cheap books. The weak binding couldn’t hold for one of them, and the flimsy paperback split in half.
Just as he was ready to yank the Christmas decorations out of the closet and start popping multicolored light bulbs like bubble wrap, the front doorknob jiggled and the door creaked open.
With his face raw, hair tousled, and eyes shining the clearest shade of blue, Roxas stood staring at Axel with a plastic bag filled with what smelled like gooey Chinese food.
“What are you doing?” The icy edge in Roxas’s voice was gone from their previous conversation, and he had come bearing food, a universal offering for peace.
“You stole my cigarettes.” Axel was not ready to negotiate without his demands being met first.
“I put them under the sink.” Roxas sighed and tossed one of the cushions back onto the couch before he tugged at the grey scarf wrapped around his neck. “Did you eat yet?”
“No.” Axel hadn’t eaten anything the entire day, but he walked away from the cold air nipping at his exposed feet and into the kitchen to check under the sink. He snatched the carton and plunked it defiantly on the counter. Picking up the one opened pack on top, he slid one of the sticks between his fingers and lit it with a range on the stove. Roxas had followed, carrying the bag with him.
“You said you were going to quit.” Roxas placed the bag on their small table in the corner before draping his coat over one of the wooden chairs.
“When?” Axel snorted, as he puffed.
“You left messages on my phone yesterday.”
“I did?” Axel had remembered calling Roxas, but what he actually said could not register through his blurry memories. He did know that cruel emotions, such as depression and anger, were not good ingredients for drunken phone messages.
“You said you would stop smoking.”
“Look, I don’t remember what I said, alright?”
“You still said it.”
“If I don’t remember, it doesn’t count. I probably said a bunch of shit that I didn’t mean anyway.”
“Right.” Roxas looked down at his palms as lines of disappointment settled into his features, and the only sound that could be heard was the tick-tock of the clock on the wall. With the absence of speech, the ticking grew seemingly louder to Axel, and he rubbed his temple to soothe the tension headache that was forming beneath it. He took a deeper puff. “I bought some food for you.”
“Thanks. I figured.” With his cigarette loose in his mouth, Axel crinkled the thin plastic as he reached into the bag and pulled out a carton. Roxas walked into the other room. “You’re not going to have some?”
“I’m going to take a shower,” Roxas said, turned away from Axel. Any other day, Axel would have shrugged, carried whatever takeout they had ordered into the living room, and watched COPS, Cheaters, or if all else failed, Jerry Springer. But not having Roxas around for one week meant he had been sex deprived. Not that he hadn’t gone without sex for longer before, but Roxas’ sudden presence after one long week of absence had reignited his drive, and the idea of his blond naked appealed to him more than whatever savory meal awaited him in the little white box.
“Hold up.” Axel ground the cigarette into the edge of the metal sink and flicked it into a clay bowl full of murky, stagnant water. He hustled until he reached Roxas and grabbed him from behind, pulling him closer. The citric sent of the shampoo that they both used tickled Axel’s nose as he inhaled. “I have an idea.”
“Oh, really? What did you have in mind?”
“Come here.” Axel spun Roxas around and pressed their lips together. Axel tried to use the physical contact to convey feelings that could not be expressed by words alone, to grapple with the permanent emotional attachment that had snuck up on the both of them while they slept next to each other at night. He wanted to reassure Roxas as well as reaffirm to himself what they were together. Roxas pulled away prematurely.
“Oh, gross. What the hell did you eat today?” Roxas pursed his lips to suck the taste from his mouth and took a step back.
“Uh - nothing.”
“You smell.”
“Thank you so very much, Roxas. Way to ruin the mood.”
“Did you even bother to brush your teeth today?”
“Well, yeah.”
Roxas looked at Axel dubiously.
“Ok…no,” Axel said. He had had it up to his pointy, well, droopy and frizzy as of right now, red spike with the emotional volley that he was having with Roxas. A smelly Axel was still an attractive Axel and if the blond wanted to deny him, he knew that there were other people willing, even with the funky B.O. and mild halitosis.
“Come on.” Roxas held Axel’s hand firmly and led them up the stairs to the bathroom.
“You gonna’ join, shortie?” Axel asked, knowing what buttons to push, but Roxas didn’t reply. He just sat his sweet ass on the toilet seat and smirked. Axel peeled off his clothes and silently agreed that, yes, he was possibly a tad bit gross, but blamed it on the laziness that the alcohol brought about on the morning after. After turning the hot valve, the room filled with steam, and Axel stepped into the water to scrub the invisible grime off of his skin.
“Where did you get those?” Roxas pointed to Axel’s torso then his face.
“You don’t want to know.” Axel squeezed the shampoo into his hand, and the citrus smell infused with his locks as he lathered it onto his scalp. He squeezed his eyes shut to prevent the stinging hair cleanser from entering. “I saw the pictures from your trip. Did you have fun?”
“It was alright.” Roxas voice had moved from where he was sitting; he seemed elevated.
“I liked the rocks.”
“Huh?”
“The big rocks.”
“What are you talking about?” Roxas was now directly behind him, and Axel turned to find his naked, smirking blond with arms crossed. So, naturally Axel did what any sane person would do; he pinned Roxas against the shower wall and rubbed their slick bodies together.
Axel and Roxas did not have sex in the shower. They had been there and done that before, and the novelty wore off after the first couple of times. Axel hated the way that the water distracted him as the droplets beamed him in the face, and Roxas had experienced his first sex injury in the shower. Neither of them complained as they inched away from the tub and headed to the bedroom.
However, after running out of the bathroom, laughing like excited teenaged schoolgirls as Axel tried and purposely failed to towel whip Roxas, they fell into a familiar, comfortable rhythm and ended with sharing a thin slice of euphoria for just a few moments.
They were basking in the aftermath, enjoying their time together. Roxas rested his head on Axel’s chest, curling against his body; both breathing heavily but under control. In a few minutes, one of them would speak, and they would go into the shower again to clean up; they would go back to whatever it was that had been entertaining them prior to all of this. But now, they lay next to each other enjoying the warmth that the other one provided.
“I missed this.” Axel broke the silence, maybe sooner than what they had both hoped for. He smiled at the strip of pale skin, where the sun didn’t shine, emphasized by faint tan that Roxas had acquired everywhere else.
“I was gone for a week,” Roxas said as he rolled his blue eyes up at Axel.
“I know, but I thought you were gone yesterday.”
“But I was fine.”
“I didn’t know that. Hell, I don’t know what I would have done if…I mean, you could have…”
“I’m fine.” Roxas turned his body and brought his face up to Axel’s and tapped him gently on the side of his head in a playful gesture. Axel cringed as his bruise was agitated from the motion. “What’s wrong?”
“I fell and hit my head yesterday.” Axel watched as Roxas’s eyes filled with concern and studied the side of his head.
“Maybe you should go to the doctor’s or something, just in case.”
“It’s just a stupid bruise. Besides, I don’t have insurance. It’ll just be a waste of money.”
“You have it.” Roxas rolled away from Axel and off of the bed.
“Have what?” Axel followed him into the bathroom.
“Insurance. I added you to mine.”
“You can do that?”
“Well, we’re together and stuff.”
Axel smiled at the undefined ‘and stuff’ and picked up his flannel pants off of the white tile floor. The bright blue rubber ball fell out of the pocket and bounced against the hard floor that the two of them had painstakingly laid down, together. He palmed the ball and held it, appreciating the tacky texture.
“Hey Roxas, what do you think about kids?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know, adopting one or something.”
Axel had a new rule. Do not talk to Roxas about children. Period. It had taken him an hour to talk Roxas out of having an aneurism. And the relentless inquisition that followed had left Axel wearier than if he had done a workout with Billy Blanks. Yes, kids were a hell of a lot of responsibility. No, Axel was not insane. Yes, he remembered what happened the last time he got near a kid, but not all kids cried that hard for such a stupid reason. And that wasn’t the last time he was near a kid. Yes, Axel did understand that children were not the same thing as pets. No, he was not on LSD, crack, or any other illegal, mind-altering substance.
Lying on the bed, he heard Roxas’s even breathing next to him. His eyelids fluttering in the dark, the blond stirred before snuggling next to Axel, spooning his side. Amazed at the stillness coming from the same man who, just a few hours ago, resembled Cujo in his efforts to mow down Axel’s random thoughts, he closed his eyes and allowed his mind to drift off to sleep.
Axel dreamt that night that he was in Antarctica, and icicles clung to his legs and hung off of his feet. Roxas threw snowballs as him and laughed with his cheeks and nose red from the cold. Both clad only in boxers, Axel wondering why only Roxas’s face was visibly affected by the cold. The dream made it possible for Roxas’s lips to easily reach Axel’s ear, even though he wasn’t that tall. The other man’s lips brushed against his ear, tickling him, causing Axel to bring his shoulder up to protect his sensitive earlobes.
Roxas whispered three words, and the warmth that Axel experienced melted the ice away.