(no subject)
Challenge: [167] - Pragmatism
Title: stalin and i
Word Count: 389
Summary: axel will say anything to keep roxas by his side until morning.
Notes: written for michele_bell.
[stalin and i]
"Stay," he murmurs, threading his fingers together into a tight knot, resting his hands on his lap so they can't dart out and hook into flesh and burrow in like parasitic flatworms until morning.
"Please please please stay. For me. Or I won't wake up at all tomorrow. I'll stay in bed forever and it'll be your fault."
"Really?" Roxas says. "Really really? Because that isn't funny, Ax. You shouldn't make promises you can't keep."
"Really, swear to god it's true."
It's not. It's really not. But words come cheap and, right now, so does he.
Axel draws a lopsided smiley face on the fogged up window, crude and childish and ugly. It could be a metaphor for something sharp, even dangerous, lurking just beneath the sparkling surface of his mind. It could just be that he sucks at drawing.
Roxas draws a heart around it, crosses the eyes, adds a wagging tongue.
"Dirty," Axel laughs, flicking his own out.
Roxas punches him in the arm and mutters something about perverted freaks but Axel is too busy staring at the tantalizing hole in Roxas's ripped jeans to listen.
Inevitably, and this always happens, Roxas's words start shifting to God I hate this place I hate this room I hate these people I want to go I want to run I want to I want I
There's a bruise blooming on Axel's skin where Roxas's knuckles are imprinted. He licks it absently as he watches Roxas pace around the room, ranting at the trembling shadows like Stalin.
"So you should kiss me now," Axel says, and holds his breath.
He can hear hope creeping in through the dusty floorboards when Roxas stops talking long enough to twist around and face him, blinking owlishly.
Huh, Axel thinks.
Roxas slithers closer and he spreads his arms wide to catch him.
(Didn't think that would actually work.)
#
Axel wakes up suffocating and disorientated. It takes him a few seconds to realize he isn't about to be smothered by the heavy weight lodged nearly on top of him and he holds perfectly still, taking shallow breaths that barely scrape the bottom of his lungs.
"Hello," he whispers, feeling Roxas's lips move absently against his skin.
Outside the window it's morning.