whitereflection (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
whitereflection) wrote2006-09-25 02:17 pm
whitereflection) wrote2006-09-25 02:17 pm
Entry tags:
akuroku: beware of drabble -__-
Yeah, I know, a drabble. :/ I just wanted to write myself a little something to feel better, and a)this was what was in my head, not to mention b)short is something I'd finish for once. Anyway. Side benefit, maybe it'd give Katkat some feel-betters, too.
Title: 7am
Fandom: Axel/Roxas (Kingdom Hearts 2)
Note: Self-edited but not truly beta'ed. Much abuse of grammar and punctuation. Not sure I'd post to any communities or ff.net. My usual bittersweet sort of squoosh-sap.
7am
Axel doesn't like to open his eyes in the morning.
It's not that he doesn't want to wake up, or that the first few moments of blurry-gritty-rubbing-the-crud-away annoys him more than it does anyone else. It's just at that heartbeat moment of waking, when wobbling on the balance beam-border between dreams and consciousness, there's still some small, hidden-away, aching, *hollow* part of him that remembers
--opening his eyes time and time and time again to the featureless whitewhitewhite walls of his room at the Organization's H.Q, and knowing his friend's room would still be empty, unlived in
--forcing his eyes to stay open just a few seconds longer, to see one last glimpse of the wrong blue eyes while seeking the right blue eyes hidden deep within, while trying to explain to this Other *why*
--closing his eyes, and opening them, and closing them, and opening them, and it *didn't change* that all he saw was blackness, darkness, a nothing that stretched on forever and yet was composed of him alone, and he supposed it might have been cold if he could feel anything at all
...and there's a sharp pang like a (key)blade's point to his chest that maybe this time--who knows how many lifetimes later--when he opens his eyes, Roxas will be gone again. Or won't have been there at all. Or maybe the whole world would blink away, the mind-bogglingly unexpected opportunity to live again but an illusion or joke, yanked away at the last moment by a child universe laughing Made You Look!
But when Axel hears the front door slam, and hears the clomp-clomp-clomp of I'm-not-really-awake-yet Roxas striding across hardwood floors; when his nose twitches at the scent of fresh, hot coffee from the shop down the street (Roxas! Goes outside *first thing in the morning*! Walks a block down and a block back *at 7am*! To bring him a latte with extra whipped cream! *In bed*! For fuck's sake, if that isn't love, he doesn't know what is.); when he feels a solid, warm weight dip the mattress and settle heavy-in-a-good-way straddled across his hips, and feels the solid, warm press of demanding, tempting lips against his own; when he tastes traces of sweet-bitter from Roxas' energy drink-du-jour teased in slick slides against his tongue; when there are things such as these, Axel can't help but open his eyes.
For each time he does and sees Roxas--tousled blond hair sticking bedhead-straight up on one side yet again, one eyebrow arched as he pulls back to look down at Axel, expression scowling-pouting-grumpy yet with the faint beginnings of a smirk quirking up the corners of his lips, and sunlit-sky blue eyes glinting with sparks of challenge, dare, and *life*--each time, it makes opening his eyes so very worthwhile.
So maybe there's still shadow-hurts lurking around that make him not like opening his eyes in the morning. But as Axel feels his sleep-fuzzy smile sharpen into his ever-present wicked grin, he knows he'll gladly do so every day. For Roxas, he'll risk the real-yet-not things he secretly fears he might see; the sight of his friend, his soulmate, his lover, his *everything* is one Axel wouldn't miss for all the money (munny?) in this, or any, world.
Title: 7am
Fandom: Axel/Roxas (Kingdom Hearts 2)
Note: Self-edited but not truly beta'ed. Much abuse of grammar and punctuation. Not sure I'd post to any communities or ff.net. My usual bittersweet sort of squoosh-sap.
7am
Axel doesn't like to open his eyes in the morning.
It's not that he doesn't want to wake up, or that the first few moments of blurry-gritty-rubbing-the-crud-away annoys him more than it does anyone else. It's just at that heartbeat moment of waking, when wobbling on the balance beam-border between dreams and consciousness, there's still some small, hidden-away, aching, *hollow* part of him that remembers
--opening his eyes time and time and time again to the featureless whitewhitewhite walls of his room at the Organization's H.Q, and knowing his friend's room would still be empty, unlived in
--forcing his eyes to stay open just a few seconds longer, to see one last glimpse of the wrong blue eyes while seeking the right blue eyes hidden deep within, while trying to explain to this Other *why*
--closing his eyes, and opening them, and closing them, and opening them, and it *didn't change* that all he saw was blackness, darkness, a nothing that stretched on forever and yet was composed of him alone, and he supposed it might have been cold if he could feel anything at all
...and there's a sharp pang like a (key)blade's point to his chest that maybe this time--who knows how many lifetimes later--when he opens his eyes, Roxas will be gone again. Or won't have been there at all. Or maybe the whole world would blink away, the mind-bogglingly unexpected opportunity to live again but an illusion or joke, yanked away at the last moment by a child universe laughing Made You Look!
But when Axel hears the front door slam, and hears the clomp-clomp-clomp of I'm-not-really-awake-yet Roxas striding across hardwood floors; when his nose twitches at the scent of fresh, hot coffee from the shop down the street (Roxas! Goes outside *first thing in the morning*! Walks a block down and a block back *at 7am*! To bring him a latte with extra whipped cream! *In bed*! For fuck's sake, if that isn't love, he doesn't know what is.); when he feels a solid, warm weight dip the mattress and settle heavy-in-a-good-way straddled across his hips, and feels the solid, warm press of demanding, tempting lips against his own; when he tastes traces of sweet-bitter from Roxas' energy drink-du-jour teased in slick slides against his tongue; when there are things such as these, Axel can't help but open his eyes.
For each time he does and sees Roxas--tousled blond hair sticking bedhead-straight up on one side yet again, one eyebrow arched as he pulls back to look down at Axel, expression scowling-pouting-grumpy yet with the faint beginnings of a smirk quirking up the corners of his lips, and sunlit-sky blue eyes glinting with sparks of challenge, dare, and *life*--each time, it makes opening his eyes so very worthwhile.
So maybe there's still shadow-hurts lurking around that make him not like opening his eyes in the morning. But as Axel feels his sleep-fuzzy smile sharpen into his ever-present wicked grin, he knows he'll gladly do so every day. For Roxas, he'll risk the real-yet-not things he secretly fears he might see; the sight of his friend, his soulmate, his lover, his *everything* is one Axel wouldn't miss for all the money (munny?) in this, or any, world.
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Ok it made me cry but Im hormonal and it was good tears of fluff and happy ans what-if-WAAAANT
*poingas on*
*poingpoingpoing*
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