Nephilim
It was just one of those days where everything that should've gone right didn't and all of the stupid "what if?" ideas that hang about in the back of your head actually materialize right in front of your face. Like, "What if he says no? What if he rejects me? Nah, that couldn't happen… but what if?" And the next thing you know, you're standing on the sidewalk in the pouring rain, watching the one person you thought would never turn their back on you speed away in a taxi without a backwards glance.
After a testing time, all you need is shoulder to bitch on and an open ear, one that's attached to a head with a mouth that wouldn't open until you were finished with your tirade.
So when he went and asked me, he presented the perfect opportunity to vent to me.
"Something troubling you?"
Three tiny little words. I was sold.
Roxas impatiently brushed away the rainwater that was soaked into his hair and already taking advantage of gravity to drip onto his already soaked face. He fumbled with the keys. He wasn't sure whether it was the tears, the rain, or the burning pain in his chest, but he was disoriented.
"Sorry, Roxas… I can't."
Why the bloody hell not? Roxas grit his teeth, clenching his jaw muscles as he remained frozen to the door to his apartment, holding on to the doorknob with a vice-like grip, as if it was the only thing that could hold him up. He didn't even notice. He was choking and crying, and he hated it. The weakness and the agony were rendering him helpless and he absolutely loathed it. This shouldn't have happened.
"I just let you go too far. I didn't mean for you to get the wrong impression."
"Asshole…" Roxas whispered, pressing his forehead to the cool door as he squeezed his eyes shut. His clothes were dripping, creating a puddle at his feet. It felt like the spreading cold was reaching into his heart, squeezing the organ and turning his blood to ice. Finally, releasing a deep shaking breath, the man managed to turn the key and stumble through the door to his home. His apartment.
He paused right in the doorway, shaking as the familiar scent of his colognestruck his senses. Deep and reminiscent of the sea. Only hours before, they had been here together, getting ready, laughing and smiling and without a care in the world.
"I hoped we'd just stay friends. I mean, really, Roxas. I'm not even gay."
Then the bastard had left, arrogantly leaving behind traces of himself to taunt and remind Roxas of the things that could have been. Damn him. Roxas stepped inside and slammed the door shut behind him.
Shoving off his jacket, weighed down with rain, the blonde tossed it to the floor, simultaneously kicking off his sneakers, then proceeded to lose it. It, being his mind. The breaking point had been coming, really. The long walk home had been spent in trying to absorb the enormity of what had just happened. Then, the patient wait in the elevator to his floor signaled a spark in his brain that burst the dam of swelling pain in his chest. The echoing voice of him didn't help.
"We're done… we're done… we're done."
By the time Roxas had reached the door, the stinging was overwhelming him. And now came the point where all of the mental stability he had managed to maintain collapsed in on itself. With a soft, strangled yell, the blonde kicked at the fallen jacket, then proceeded to rip off the soaking wet dress jacket beneath. The rain water was splattering everywhere.
Next, with his upper body being completely bare, Roxas moved on to furiously tugging off his belt, then his stiff jeans. He eventually fell to his bottom with the effort of trying to pull it off both legs at the same time, but it hardly deterred him. Growling without control, the blonde fought with the wet clothes until the pants finally gave in and he managed to tug off the jeans, as well as his socks. This left him only in his damp cotton boxers.
The pouring rain shifted back into hearing as Roxas abruptly slumped against his couch, still on the floor, falling silent. He sat motionless, chest heaving as if he had just run ten miles. There were spots of water everywhere, and he couldn't even find where he had flung his dress shirt.
Roxas tiredly ran his hands over his tear and rain splattered face, feeling exhaustion and loneliness set over him like a thick blanket.
He was pathetic.
Fifteen minutes of staring at the floor in a daze and Roxas finally started to get cold and clammy. It took a great deal of concentration, but the blonde finally managed to drag himself back to his feet, rinse himself off in the shower, then change into warm sweatpants and a shirt and return to his disaster-area of a living room to sit and brood.
Sitting and brooding wasn't an entirely healthy choice. He could only think of him. As his stormy blue eyes roamed the expanse of the area, trying to find a distraction, his gaze settled on the nearby wall-clock that was slightly off-kilter. Roxas had probably nailed it with his jacket beforehand.
It was almost an hour to midnight. As Roxas puzzled over how the time had gone by so fast, the gentle pattering against his window went unheeded. It was dark, too. The only light was coming from a small table-lamp that the blonde had actually stopped to turn on in the middle of his sulking session. The light cast weird, elongated shadows everywhere, increasing the feeling of emptiness, reminding Roxas that he was alone. Very, very much alone.
The feeling of miserable solitude wasn't new to him, but it was during times like these that he called him and allowed the other to cheer him. Now, Roxas had no one. Fingers sliding over the edge of his shirt, the blonde chewed idly at his bottom lip and wondering what he could possibly to do get his mind off of him. Nothing came to mind. He was too exhausted to sleep, too furious to calm down, and too depressed to cheer up.
Unfortunately, his phone chose to ring at that exact moment. The soft, tiny ringtone shattered the silence in the room. Without missing a beat, Roxas snatched up the device out of his pocket and flung at the wall, where the phone fell to the floor and played out the rest of the song. Roxas glared stonily at it until it fell silent again, leaving the room in an even greater abyss of nothing than before.
That is, until…
"Something troubling you?"
Roxas frowned. It may have just been his imagination, but he was fairly certain that the wall had just spoken to him. Maybe his post-relationship depression was getting to his head.
"Yo! You alive in there? Don't go killing yourself on me or anything, I don't want to break down your door and try to fucking save you."
No, the voice was coming from beyond the wall. Scooting out of his seat on the couch, Roxas slowed walked forward, cautiously tip-toeing. "Who's there?"
There was soft chuckle and a gentle thump from the other side. "Your conscience."
Roxas raised an eyebrow as he pressed the tips of his fingers to the painted white wall, craning his ears. Who had known that the walls of his apartment were that damnably thin? "Somehow, I doubt my conscience, even if I did have one, would be speaking to me from the other room. I'm assuming now that you're my neighbor?"
"Your neighbor who happened to overhear all of your hissy fit and was rather startled to hear something thud into the wall, yes." The stranger reiterated calmly. The section of whatever the builders had decided to make their wall out of just barely muffled the other man's voice, for it was definitely masculine. And slightly husky.
A frown twitched at the tips of Roxas's lips. "I wasn't aware that my neighbors liked to snoop."
"It's hard not to when you're throwing things about in there, kid." The other replied.
In truth, Roxas barely knew any of his neighbors. The apartment building was fairly small and private. It wasn't a neighborhood, mostly everyone kept to themselves, including Roxas, who had only moved in here a few months before. But he had never known that the walls were the least bit soundproof. Maybe it was even a good thing now that he had turned him down and they hadn't ended up … doing anything. Vocal.
Roxas flushed and sighed to himself, deciding to slide down to sit on the floor, resting his back against the wall. He turned his head so that his voice would be easier to hear for the man on the other side. "Sorry, then. Did I bother you or anything?"
"Nah, I wasn't doing anything anyway. Anyhow. Back to my original question. Something troubling you?"
"Nothing you need to worry about…" Roxas murmured, dropping his eyes to his lap. Was he that desperate that he would dump his problems on the other man's shoulders? He didn't even know him. Not everyone wanted to hear the mopey love story of a gay guy.
"Sorry, what was that?" The stranger chuckled. "I couldn't hear you over the whiny muttering. C'mon. Spill. You woke me up, you might as well bitch whatever you need to bitch about so you don't bottle it up and wake me up again later with more explosions."
Roxas managed a wry smile. "I don't think you deserve the crap I need to complain about. Our two minute relationship wouldn't be able to handle it."
"Touché. But regardless, because now that we're both sitting against the wall, as I am assuming you are, we might as well get down to business."
"What, without introductions?"
Something slid against the other side of the wall. The stranger was probably settling into a more comfortable position. "Fine, fine. I'm Axel. I happen to be your neighbor. I'm 24 years old. And I'm currently sitting on the floor and talking to a complete idiot named…?"
With a snort, Roxas rolled his eyes. "Roxas, who happens to be Axel's neighbor, 22 years old, sitting on the floor, and is speaking through a freakishly thin wall to an absolute moron named Axel."
"Former college boy, huh?"
"I prefer former college slave, considering the shitload of projects I had in Art school."
"Ah, I know how that is. Riku had the same problem." Axel said, "So did you meet your cutie boyfriend there or what?"
Roxas nearly choked. He had just been relaxing, idly relating the wall-to-wall conversation with something akin to talking on the phone, when Axel proved to be keener than he took him for. "What do you mean, boyfriend?" He finally managed to stammer, staring at the woe-be-gone cell phone on the floor as he waited for Axel's answer.
"Aw, c'mon, don't play dumb. Just because I haven't said anything before doesn't mean that I just magically started hearing things through the wall today."
"Damnit, how long have you been listening, you asshole?" Roxas, amused and surprised as he laughed slightly. "Creeper."
"Hey, none of that. I don't do it on purpose; you're the one yelling your head off with that… what was his name? Smexion?"
"His name is Zexion." Roxas's eyes closed as he corrected Axel. "And he wasn't my boyfriend. He was my friend."
"I notice you're using the past tense here."
Roxas sighed, startled but somewhat comforted by the concerned tone in Axel's voice. He began to shrug, then realized that the other man wouldn't even see it. "I probably won't ever talk to him again. I apparently got the wrong vibes from him and that he, in fact, isn't interested in a relationship with me. So I pretty much killed off our friendship by trying to take it a step farther."
"Ouch. What an ass."
"Well, it's my own fault."
"No. I wouldn't say so." Axel sounded thoughtful, and he paused briefly before continuing, "It's his fault for not understanding and trying to work through it. Trust me, kid, I've seen this before. The side that tries to get beyond 'just friends' ends up blaming themselves and they can hardly be blamed for trying to get somewhere with something they had going for them."
"Mr. Relationship-advice, huh?" Roxas raised an eyebrow, smiling to himself as he began to stare off into space. "I dunno. I just honestly thought that Zexion wouldn't just drop me like day-old trash. We've been friends with college, you'd think that'd give us enough of a base to fall back on, even if we messed up."
"Guess not. So what'd you do to make him freak like that?"
Roxas took a deep breath, taking one quick second to consider. Would he spill? Take off the load from his shoulders and mind to release something onto Axel? Is it worth it? Axel could very likely be a creepy 60 year old man who actually was a creeper and wanted to molest Roxas in his sleep. Roxas highly doubted that, considering the softer timbre of Axel's voice and the fact that, now that he thought about it, he had heard heavy rock music from his room a week or so beforehand. One point for Axel actually being 24, as he had said.
Then there was the fact that Roxas was releasing steam onto a complete stranger who was actually willing to lend an ear. And this unrequited act of goodwill somehow rang false in the back of the blonde's mind. There had to be a catch. There was always a catch.
And, lucky Roxas, all his inner mind could come up with was "… I wonder what Axel looks like."
Great. Ah well. At least I'm getting over Zexion. Maybe.
There was a soft tapping of Axel's fingers on the wall. "You alive?"
"Yeah…" Roxas released the air he had been holding and brushed his hair back. With a shake of his head, the blonde launched into his story. From the beginning, for the sake of setting the scene. He talked fluidly, keeping his voice soft as he spoke into the wall, eyes misting over as he thought back to the past two years of his life. About how he had met Zexion in his fine art photography class back in senior year of college and Roxas had nearly snapped his lens in two as soon as the purple-haired boy had walked into his classroom.
He smiled as he remembered the first time he had spoken to the shy Zexion; he had asked him to pass the salt in the dining hall. Axel had laughed at that. Roxas generalized the remaining year. For the most part, he and Zexion had grown closer than most of his other friends. They hung out more often. By the last few months, as Roxas now referred to them, they had been spending the night over each other's apartments, sitting closer than necessary on the couch when they watched movies, and Zexion had even stopped complaining as Roxas looped his arm through his when they walked together somewhere.
"It was going so well." Roxas said miserably. "But when I asked him out on the way to our taxi back here, he just completely rejected me…"
Axel whistled softly in astonishment. "Damn, he took the taxi and left you in the damn rain?"
"He offered to pay for the fare home." Roxas replied, "But I don't think I could've handled it. I just told him that I'd walk."
"Which brings you here." Axel finally finished. The pair fell silent. It was still pouring sheets outside, Roxas noticed vaguely. Funny how the outside sounds had fallen away while he had been in story-mode. However, the reliving of his past with Zexion made the still raw ache in his chest stab with pain again. It was too soon to get over it, but Roxas was tired of the presence of Zexion in his heart. He was sick of the empty feeling that he couldn't shake, and the bizarre urge to just run and hit or just do anything to get Zexion off his mind that was slowly picking away at his sanity.
"So how do you feel now?" Axel finally spoke again. Roxas felt his heart lighten gently.
"Better, actually. Load off my back. How do you feel?"
There was chuckle from the other room. "Fine. I feel bad for you, Roxas. You didn't deserve that."
"Probably not." Roxas sighed. "But it's too late for anything now."
"Well, not necessarily…"
Roxas would be ashamed to admit it later, but he began to space out as soon as Axel started to speak and explain what seemed to be his own past experiences with dumbass boyfriends. The exhaustion from the overwhelming day hit Roxas head-on and he slumped against the wall, rubbing his cheek against the surface, feeling it cool his heated skin. The rain continued on and Axel's voice filled his eardrums.
It must have been the depression. Or perhaps the shock. Or the lulling pounding of the rain by his window. Or the way that Axel's words seemed to have a soft, purring undertone to them. But Roxas's focus slipped and his hand did as well.
What was it about Axel's husky voice that made him immediately calm? The man, who Roxas had never seen before in his life, seemed to know exactly what Roxas wanted to hear. He was comforting. He listened. Plus, Axel had no problem whatsoever with his sexual orientation.
Roxas's fingers began to play with the hem of his shirt as he sighed to himself, eyes dropping to half-mast. Axel continued to speak, but the blonde's inner brain only caught words like "sex" and "like" and "heat" and phrases like "rubbed me the wrong way" and "freakin' dick in a box."
Axel rolled his r's. He hissed his s's. And the way he added a short laugh or so after his sentences intrigued Roxas even more.
"But I just figured that he'd come back later, you know?"
"Uh huh…" Roxas replied automatically, swallowing. Were those his fingers sliding along the skin right beneath the waistband of his pants?
Am I really that fickle? Or insane?
He was touching himself to a stranger's voice.
Some of his self control had obviously been washed out with the rain outside.
"And here I am, sitting in the freakin' bar, waiting on this douche…"
"… mm." Yeah, those were undoubtedly his own slim fingers beginning to rub their way beneath his boxers. No denying that.
"But he never showed up! At least you got some parting words, Rox, 'cause I didn't get shit."
"Yeah." Roxas sighed, denying himself no longer. He scraped his shoulder blades against the wall as he touched himself. C'mon… keep talking…
"Roxas, were you even listening?"
Maybe he should have been paying attention. The blonde stared down at the bulge in his pants with a blank look as the lusty fog in his head dissipated. "Huh?"
Surprisingly, Axel didn't sound angry, but amused. "That's a little unfair, Rox. I listened to your sob story, I should be getting at least some attention here."
"Uh, uh… I, uh…" Logic returned with a smacking sound, including Roxas banging his head accidentally against the wall as he stiffened. When had his hand gotten down his pants? When had he gotten hard? Horror welled up in his throat. "Oh god… I am not having a good day."
"Well, night, really. It's way past midnight." Axel amended, sounding somewhat hesitant and unsure still about Roxas's condition, but still speaking. "Oddly enough, it was Friday the 13th yesterday, did you know?"
"Does that mean my bad luck's over?" muttered Roxas, fingers still curled around himself.
"Maybe. It's Valentine's Day now, though. You like this holiday?"
The blonde recalled Zexion mentioning his dislike for Valentine's Day the week before and he snorted, trying to keep his voice steady and willing the erection to go away. "Not especially."
"Yeah, I'm not big on it, either. So tell me…" Axel abruptly switched topics. "What were you doing while you were not listening to me?"
Getting ready to jerk off. "… um."
"Spacing out, I bet." Axel sighed and his voice seemed to grow in volume marginally. He had probably turned around to actually face the wall. "So Roxas. Tell me about yourself."
"Mm." Roxas cautiously pulled his hand back to safe ground as he considered the statement. "What do you want to know?"
Axel clicked his tongue in thought. "Well. What do you look like? I've actually never seen you up-close."
"Um." As Roxas felt his wits collecting, he shrugged, humoring Axel. "I'm medium-height. Blonde hair, blue eyes. I dunno. Nothing special. You?"
"Oo, blondie. I like it." At Roxas's stony silence, Axel continued. "Me? Well, I pretty much look amazing, I'll have you know."
Roxas snorted, rolling his eyes as he smiled to himself. "Typical."
"I know, right? But seriously. I've got this badass red hair. By red, I mean fire-truck red. I'm tall. Um… ah, I've got green eyes. Can't forget that. But yeah. I'm basically a bundle of awesome."
"Somehow, I'm not surprised." Roxas replied, shaking his head. But at least now he had a mental picture. He could just imagine Axel sitting against his wall, smirking to himself as he listening patiently to Roxas. The voice matched the image perfectly.
The two paused again. This time, there was only silence. The rain had stopped.
"Thinking about me, Roxas?"
Roxas tilted his head at the sudden drop in Axel's voice. He grinned. There had been a growl under his name. He was sure of it. "I was about to ask you the same thing."
"You know me too well. I was just imagining you sitting there, back against the wall, touching yourself while not listening to me."
Shit! He knew?! Roxas blinked in surprise, but recovered quickly. "What makes you so sure?"
Axel's voice dropped a few more octaves. "Roxas, I've got more experience in this than you. You were practically panting. I could have been reading to you a Calculus textbook and you wouldn't have noticed. Admit it, blondie." Axel suddenly purred, "You like my voice."
A chill rushed down Roxas's spine and before he knew it, the bulge was back. Damnit. He grit his teeth, forcing his fingers deep into his hair to resist. "Don't do anything you'd regret, Axel." He almost whispered.
Axel didn't say anything for a good moment and Roxas was about to just change the subject and hopefully steer the conversation away from himself and the fact that he had been caught in the act of masturbation. However, the red-head suddenly scraped his fingernails down the wall. Roxas heard the noise right by his ear and he shivered.
"Why would I regret it, Roxas? Would you regret touching yourself to my voice?"
"You're fucking seducing me through a wall, asshole." Roxas squeezed his eyes shut tightly as his fingers began to clench around his hair. He needed this, honestly. This release of sexual frustration had been long forth-coming, and Axel seemed to know, once again, the right buttons to push to make him feel better.
"I don't see-ah, I mean, I don't hear you complaining, Roxas." There was some rustle of clothing from the other side. Axel was whispered now. "What are you wearing, Roxas?"
"A shirt…" Of their own accord, the blonde's fingers began to move. They slid right over the laying of clothing on his upper body, quickly reaching his hips. "Sweatpants… and boxers."
"Oh, that's it, huh?" More nail-scraping. The soft sounds continued to wreak havoc on Roxas's body. "Take off your shirt, Roxas."
"'Kay." Roxas wasn't about to protest. Not to a voice like that. His hands moved from his hips to his shirt as he tugged it off. The chill of the room hit his warm chest immediately and the blonde hissed at the cold. Axel was laughing softly in the other room.
"Roxas…"
Roxas was nervously resting his hands on his stomach, waiting, eyes already glassy. This must have been a record for him. Only knowing someone for about three hours and already going for the cock. Damn. It had taken Zexion a whole year to just admit that he jerked off like any other common male. "Yeah, Axel?"
"Do you trust me?"
Axel's lips must have been right up against the wall, because it felt like he was speaking directly into his ear. Roxas could have even imagined the warm puff of air circling over his skin there.
Roxas spared no moment of hesitation. "Yes." He breathed.
"Roxas, I want you to touch yourself."
The blonde lowered his head as his hands slipped beneath his boxers to tug out his stiff cock. Axel's doing. He gingerly encircled the top of it with his fist and slid it down hard, squeezing the tender flesh. He bit his lip, but a whimper escaped anyway. The purr from Axel only spurned him on and soon, he was fisting himself, breaths coming in pants.
"D-Damnit…"
"Keep going…" murmured Axel, sounding breathless himself. "Imagine that it's Zexion who's squeezing your cock hard right now… he's running his fingers over your slit, spreading the pre-cum all over…"
"Nn…" Roxas's fingers became blurs as he jerked off roughly. He didn't imagine Zexion. In fact, the name completely blew over his head. He increased the speed of his hands, jerking hard.
"Cum for me, Roxas…"
Roxas imagined a fiery red-head with burning green eyes towering over him, stroking his cock to fulfillment. He saw the man cleaning the white substance from his fingers with slow, sensual licks as his gaze burned into his. Roxas doubled over as release finally came. He saw stars and the hazy image disappeared. No more Axel. He was left with his fingers covered in cum, spots in his vision, and a dry taste in his mouth. The thoughts in his brain fizzled to mush.
He gulped and turned to the wall, pressing a clean hand briefly to the surface before finally grabbing his shirt, cleaning himself off, and, without a word, walking out.
Axel sat stunned in his own room, one hand splayed out against the wall as he rested his forehead against the same barrier that kept him from Roxas. He hadn't meant to go this far. He hadn't meant to lie, either.
He had known who Roxas was for weeks now. Had been plotting to kill the asshole of a Zexion for weeks, too. But fate had placed the perfect opportunity into his lap and who was he to turn it down? A few little white lies here and there hadn't hurt anyone and Roxas was none the wiser.
Thank god for thin walls.
"Roxas?" He breathed, noticing that there was silence on the other side. "You ok?"
There was no answer. Axel's eyes widened slightly. Shit. He had messed up and scared Roxas away. "Roxas! Damnit, I'm sorry!"
Still, nothing. The blonde was gone. All of the patient waiting and watching had been for nothing. Axel had blundered even worse than Roxas had with Zexion. With a soft curse, the red-head slammed his fist into the floor, eyes clenching tightly shut in anger. "Damnit!"
The night had been spent right through. There was even an extremely faint streak of light coming from the window. It was morning already. And Axel had messed up.
It was at that point that a soft knock at his door pulled Axel away from his venomous thoughts.
"Axel… open the fucking door and let me in."
Part one of this particular two-shot.
Blue Funk hasn't written smut in long long time. And she had never written Roxion before, either, no matter how faint. xD Ah well. This particular half is for everyone who wished me a happy birthday! As it just happens to be mah birthday, February 13th. xD I'm 17 now and one step closer to legality. Yay for Xigbar/Roxas day!
Part two of this vaguely Valentine's Day-ish fic should be up Thursday or Friday, so keep an eye out for that. Don't forget to review, mah loves!