Your man on the road, he doin' promo
You said, "Keep our business on the low-low"
I'm just tryna get you out the friend zone
Cause you look even better than the photos
I can't find your house, send me the info
Drivin' through the gated residential
Found out I was comin', sent your friends home
Keep on tryna hide it but your friends know
I only call you when it's half past five
The only time that I'll be by your side
I only love it when you touch me, not feel me
When I'm fucked up, that's the real me
When I'm fucked up, that's the real me, yeah
I only fuck you when it's half past five
The only time I'd ever call you mine
I only love it when you touch me, not feel me
When I'm fucked up, that's the real me
When I'm fucked up, that's the real me, babe
-
Xavier
Bright sunlight poured in through the window and stung my skin when I woke up, and I lazily rubbed my eyes, trying to regain my vision. Even though I had slept considerably peacefully, I found my muscles to be aching vigorously as I sat up straight and felt around for my phone.
Instead, my hand came in contact with human skin.
Memories of the previous night flooded my head, and all of a sudden, I didn't know what to feel.
All I could recall were those rough, animalistic kisses, those prying hands which searched for secrets hidden under the skin, those lips which left such dark love bites that they were no less than bruises, those hips which thrust so violently and the moans which came so loudly, the claw marks which hurt so badly, the hearts that ached so emptily.
When Scarlett and I touched each other, it was almost as if we were trying to hurt each other. Violent intimacy; it was our only means of communication. We could only love each other when we were hurting each other. We could only stand each other, when both of us knew that we were destroying each other, and we were enjoying it.
Our sex wasn't ever about the 'love.' It was always about power. It was always about who hurt the other person the most, without using any words.
I hated it. I hated touching her. I hated touching her with a burning passion. I hated each and every bit of myself when I touched her. After I had done it, after I had committed the heinous crime of touching her, I felt like tearing my skin off. I felt like I had caught some sort of contagious disease, and no matter how many showers I took, no matter how hard I scrubbed, no matter how many clothes I changed; the feeling, that disgusting, repulsive, hollow feeling would never wither off my skin. It was as if she had completely tainted me, my body, my heart, my soul; and I couldn't get her off of me. I hated nothing more in the world than I hated touching her.
But when was a monster, not a monster? Oh, when you loved it.
And oh, how I loved it. I loved it with a burning passion. I loved the way she kissed me; the wild, untamed, unadulterated, sinful meeting of two lips that wanted nothing more than to feel alive, of two lips that craved the thrill, of two lips that craved the danger, of two lips that craved not the love, but oh, the power. Oh, oh, oh, the power. I loved the way the way she took off my clothes, I loved the way her hands roamed my skin, tainting it with all those hateful things she wanted to say. I loved the way she bit me, the way she carved 'love bites' on my skin, the way her teeth nipped at the flesh as if she wanted to tear if off. I loved the way she looked at me, I loved the way that her burning gaze sunk deep inside of me, the way her smoldering eyes pulled me in and the way her claw marks made me feel more so much pain, I wanted to cry. I loved nothing more in the world than I loved touching her.
And that was why after it had all happened, after I had 'fucked' her, and she had 'fucked me up', I would feel empty. While it happened, it gave me the same feeling as when alcohol trickled down my throat, the burning sensation, the overwhelming thrill; but when I was all 'sobered up', the emptiness would be back. And the only way to deal with that emptiness was either to repeat the process, or get myself some more alcohol.
"Scarlett." I whispered, "Wake up."
Her back was turned towards me and her quiet, kitten like snores were the only noises in the room.
I gently placed a hand on her back and shook her, trying to wake her up. A part of me just wanted to get dressed and leave, knowing she wouldn't mind; because she knew it well as I did. She tried to act like dumb, but she knew everything as well as I did. She knew what we were to each other, and she knew what we would always be to each other. She knew the lines which separated us, and she knew the lines which bonded us, and after all, she was a smart girl. She understood quite well that some lines, she had to cross, others; she had to stay well behind.
"Scarlett." I called a little louder, and shook her back again, my hands tracing along her littered freckles. Scarlett had freckles all over her body, on her face, behind her ear, near her belly button, on the insides of her thighs. When I had first met her, I often used to wonder if god had made her by dipping her into a jar of freckles. I liked her freckles. They suited her.
"Mmmm," She moaned and shifted, so her body was towards me and blonde strands of hair were all over her face. A giggle escaped my throat as I watched the comical sight unfold before me, as she unconsciously chewed on a strand of her hair.
"Scarlett. Wake up!" This time I yelled a little louder, and Scarlett jumped up, clutching the sheets to hide her body. She appeared delusional as she looked at me and blinked, as if she couldn't figure out where she was, or who she was with.
"Hi. I'm Xavier Alexander. It's Saturday. The time is 3 in the afternoon. If you're wondering, we had sex last night, and we overslept as well."
She blinked at me like an idiot, and then rolled her eyes, a hint of a smile on her face.
"Thanks for waking me up."
I knew what those words meant. They meant, "Thanks for not leaving without waking me up."
"No problem." I replied, finally checking my phone. I had three missed calls from Amelia, and one from dad, which obviously meant I was in trouble. Amelia never called, she texted. And my dad, well, he was so involved in his itty bitty lawyer business; I was surprised he was even aware that I existed.
He wasn't really aware at all. Amelia must've just accidentally mentioned to him that he did happen to have a son, who was a borderline alcoholic, who could not figure out shit, and who was on the verge of throwing his life away.
"Shit. I have like five missed calls from mom. She's gonna kill me." Scarlett said, more to herself than to me, as she flurried out of bed, grabbing her clothes nearby. Since we had done it so many times, there was essentially no point in trying to hide anything. Everything was out there in the open, everything was already crystal clear. Our stories didn't have anything more to them.
I watched her as she dressed, her clumsy hands fiddling with the straps of her bra, her chest heaving up and down. Looking at her, I realized that I wasn't attracted to her in the slightest. Sure, Scarlett was pretty or even 'beautiful' as people called her. She had all the attributes that people believed a girl needed to be 'beautiful', the kind of attributes that people craved, that people cried for. I only found her to be pretty because I merely acknowledged her beauty, but otherwise, there was simply no spark there. Yesterday had just happened to be one of those days when alcohol wasn't available, but Scarlett was. And she was almost as deadly, and addictive as the drink itself.
"Don't you wanna take a shower?" I asked her. The room reeked of the smell of cheap sex, expensive perfume, and two people who had bitter passion.
"I have to get home. I'll take a shower later." She wriggled up her pants and stood in front of the mirror, trying to fix her hair. I just kept staring at her. I didn't know why. I just kept staring at her as my lower back ached and the will to get up decreased second by second. I had no desire to get out of bed. I just wanted to forget about her, forget about myself, forget about the rest of the world and fall asleep again. Only when I was asleep, my life wasn't a hell I wanted to get out from.
I slumped back into bed as she made some final adjustments to her clothing. She checked her phone, clicked her tongue, and then her eyes were on me.
Blue icebergs floating in the sea, violent grey storms which came with such intensity, they were unstoppable: that was the definition of what went on inside Scarlet's eyes, of what went on inside her head. She was a raging thunderstorm, and I had gotten so caught up in her, I didn't quite know how to get out. The way she looked at me; it as if her eyes were breaking through that mask I had build, and funnily enough, I knew my eyes had the same effect on her. We saw through each other's masks, and that was precisely why we were so dangerously addicting to each other.
She broke away eye contact hastily, almost as if the effect was visibly breaking her down. I felt the same way; as if trying to get that mask off was an overwhelming action, and I could simply not carry it out. It was far too difficult. To accept my mistakes, to accept everything that had gone right, to accept everything that had gone wrong, to try; it was far too big of a task, especially to do alone.
She checked her phone again and cursed under her breath, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear neatly. Then, she looked at me again, but this time, she avoided my eyes. I understood why people who were doing speeches were told not to look in the audiences' eyes. Looking at their other features made the experience far more surreal because it didn't have the same stupendous reality to it, and reality scared people, so it was better to stay away from it.
"Take care of yourself." She whispered and hesitantly kissed my cheek, the trademark strawberry scent of her lip-gloss invading my senses.
I closed my eyes. I didn't feel like getting out of bed. I didn't feel like seeing her go. I didn't feel like going home. I didn't know where home was anymore, or what it was anymore.
After I heard the familiar slam of the hotel door, I felt an overwhelming urge to cry.
-
The weather was unusually cold, as I stepped outside with every ounce of will I had left, unready to face the real world. Howling winds roamed through the thick city, greeting people and chilling them down to their bones. The air was freezing like a refrigerator and I could see people clad in warm clothes, shivering and letting out heavy puffs of air as they breathed.
I pulled my coat closer and looked up at the sky. It was merely evening, but the sky was a shade of dark blues and grays', the colors littering it like an abstract painting.
I didn't like this kind of weather. It was cold, and it made me feel cold too. At least when the sun was shining, my gloominess didn't feel as dark. When there was no sun, it felt as if an impending death was going to come upon me and I would die from the dark thoughts, and dark clouds enveloping me.
My phone buzzed as I walked down the street, and I hesitantly checked it.
Dad: Get back home. Now.
A snicker escaped my throat and I stuffed the phone back into my pocket, ignoring the buzz of another text message.
I didn't want to go home yet. I felt afraid. I wasn't afraid to hear what my dad would say, or to see the disappointment in mom's eyes. I was just afraid to go back, and come to the same realization I did every time I stepped inside my house: I had lost them. Somewhere between growing up and seeing my dad get drunk too often, and seeing my mom get angry too much, I had lost them. I had lost my family. And I couldn't get them back. There was a bridge between us, and even when I did feel brave enough to cross it; it broke down in the middle. And then there I was, left hanging, left alone, left empty.
I didn't know how, but it was possible to feel the absence of people who were present.
Spaces between us just kept getting bigger and bigger, and then all that was left there was a hollow crevice where a happy family used to be.
I hated that hollow gap. Nothing else in the world, nothing else in the entire world was capable of hurting me as much as my family. Nothing else in the entire universe was capable of ruining me as much as my family. I was a strong kid. I was capable of bearing some seriously hard things. But the one thing I could simply not bear was losing them. And I was. I was, and I could do nothing to stop it.
And that was fucking pathetic.
Shaking my head, I decided to kill some time before heading back. Of course, I would have to ultimately go back. I would eventually have to go back 'home' and try to ignore the familiar aching in my chest when I saw them drifting away from me again.
My stomach grumbled profusely and I put a hand on it, hunger striking me like lightning. I realized that I had not eaten since last night, so I decided that the best way to kill some time anyways would be to eat. And of course, food would help emotionally too. It always did. Not as much as alcohol, but close.
I observed my surrounding and chose a café nearby, one which seemed to be a little cozier than the others. I crossed the road quickly as the first few drops of rain started to fall, and people started to rush to shelter themselves from it.
Entering the café, the first thing I did was shut my phone. There was a constant buzzing in my pocket, which was more annoying than frightening and I felt like slamming it against a wall.
It was reasonably quiet as I chose a table near the window, the droplets of rain pounding it relentlessly. There was soft music playing in the background and there weren't many people around, so it was reasonably silent. A collective chatter was the only thing which filled the entire café, and it was oddly calming. It felt more homely than home itself had felt.
I stared out the window and traced the small drops of rain that ran down the window. All of a sudden, I felt like I had lost my appetite. I just wanted to stay in the café, not to do anything, but just to stay there.
"Er...Xavier?" A familiar voice called out and my head snapped towards the source, green eyes connecting with me.
It took me a couple of seconds to register who exactly I was looking at.
"Axel?" I asked, my eyes widening in realization. He was standing in front of with what looked like a menu in his bony hands, clad in a waiters' uniform. His tremendously green eyes were on me, and I felt my chest jump up when my gaze connected with his.
His eyes were too green, and his gaze was too unnerving. It was if he could look at someone, and cut them into two just with his eyes. They were ice cold. They were the coldest eyes I had ever seen, but just because they were cold, didn't mean they didn't look kind.
"Yeah," He replied, his voice a little thicker than the last time I had heard it, "Well...um...err...here."
He handed me the menu and folded his hands in front of his chest, his eyebrows knitted in slight distress. I momentarily forgot about all the issues I had to deal with, because currently, my focus was neither on the menu nor on my family, it was on Axel Clark.
And Axel Clark was one captivating human being.
"I didn't know you worked here." I stated, flitting through the 'menu. My eyes were barely tracing the names, each word wriggling on the pages like a jelly as I pretended to be immersed in reading.
"Well, of course you didn't." Even without looking, I could feel the curl of his lip. "You don't know anything about me."
"I know more than you think."
"You know as much as the next person does." I could see from my peripheral view that he was looking out the window, and the curl of his lip was no longer there. There wasn't even a smirk.
I wondered what he meant by that. Of course, I didn't know anything about him that anybody else in our school didn't, but just how much was there to know? Just how much was going on inside his head? Just how much did he keep buried in that heart of his?
"How much is there to know?" I asked, flipping another page.
I could feel his eyes on me again. "More than you think."
"Doesn't that make you interesting?"
"Not at all. There's so much to know... about everybody. It doesn't make anyone interesting."
"So, you mean no one is interesting?" I raised an eyebrow at him, and noticed the slight deepening of the ever present frown on his face. I was testing his patience, because it seemed like he was the kind of guy who didn't like conversing with anyone for more than a few minutes.
"Nope. People are boring."
"Not all of them."
"When you love someone, they don't seem boring to you. People who you love don't seem boring to you, because you love them. To anyone else, they're the most boring people in the world."
"Woah. Who knew you were so deep?" I shot him a smirk as our eyes connected, his pale cheeks reddening in the slightest. It was entertaining to watch him; it was entertaining to talk to him. Axel Clark might've believed that people were boring, but one thing I was sure of: He was not.
"Oh shit," He said, rubbing his temples, "Why am I even standing here having a conversation with you? Will you order already?"
"Eh, sorry. Can I get a club sandwich and a coke? Thanks."
He quickly snatched the menu from my hand and turned around, his movements quick and the slightest bit panicky.
Just as I was about to look away, he turned around. Our eyes connected. The same feeling was back.
"You didn't read the menu, did you?"
"Nope."
When he turned around again, I couldn't see the curl of his lip. I could feel it.
-
The food came a few minutes later, and I jumped in surprise when he placed it on my table. From the movement of his hands, I could see he had been doing the job for quite for time. He wasn't the least bit clumsy at it.
As soon as he straightened up again, a strong strawberry scent hit my nostrils. I sniffed for a moment, and realized that it was coming from him.
"Hey, wait." I asked, almost reaching out to grab his wrist. He spun around immediately and stared at me like a disapproving mother who had caught her child stealing cookies from the top shelf.
"You smell different today. You smell like ... strawberries."
His pale cheeks reddened the slightest bit again, and he bit his lip.
"I changed my shampoo."
"It suits you. The scent, I mean."
"You're creepy as hell."
"I know."
"Axel!" Somebody from the other side called him and he quickly ran away, muttering either apologies or curse words from his mouth.
As I stared at my food while the rain splattered onto the window, I suddenly felt lighter. It was a weird feeling really, especially since I felt as if my conversation with Axel had somehow been left incomplete, but I felt as if I could genuinely get up and get back home again. The sudden outburst of confidence only lasted for a few seconds, but even after it was gone, I didn't feel like it wouldn't be a problem to get up anymore. It felt oddly okay.
I didn't know whether that was because of the soft background music, the sinfully good food or the curl of Axel Clark's lip.
I ate my food quietly as my eyes followed his every move. As I had previously thought, he was a pro at his job. None of his movements were clumsy, all his smiles were fake, and all of his strides were long. Watching him was entertaining, especially when he caught my eye once or twice, secretly scowled at me, and then returned to putting that fake smile on for the customers.
It appeared that I finished my food all too quickly, and before I knew it, some other waiter was handing me the bill. I craned my neck, trying to look for Axel, but it seemed as if he was nowhere to be seen. I shrugged and paid the bill, adding a reasonable tip.
I felt like waiting a bit for Axel, just to thank him, or maybe even continue what felt like a horribly unfinished conversation. I didn't know why, but that boy just pulled me in. There was something about him, so many things about him, the strawberry scent of his hair, the curl of his lip, the tremendously green eyes, the bony fingers; they were normal human features, but somehow, they just drew me in. He just drew me in. He was a storm, and I was more than willing to get caught up in him.
After waiting for a few minutes, I finally left decided that it would seem far too desperate if I waited for him.
Just as I went outside, I felt it. The piercing gaze of his. When I turned around, the only thing I saw was his broad back as he disappeared behind the door.
-
Mils J <3 : Get back. Right now. I'm not kidding, Xavier. You're scaring me.
I sighed as I read another one of Amelia's text messages, leaning against the cold wall as the small rocks on the pavement stung my skin. It was if my mind had gone completely blank, as if I had become completely incapable of thinking. It was just as if I was drunk, but this was the kind of drunk in which I knew I was sober. Unlike actually being drunk, which made me feel like I was on some sort of cloud nine, this kind of drunk felt like shit.
Me: Gimme 15.
I replied and shut my phone off just as quickly, not wanting to read another one of her replies. My head ached profusely as I rubbed my temples and attempted to grab some courage from the hollow shell I had created inside of me.
When I tried to reach into myself, there was nothing there. It was just hollow.
I was just hollow.
I didn't even know what I had become, or what had happened, or just how things had gone from being so tremendously right to so terribly wrong. I knew, of course, I knew- I was making a bigger deal of everything than there needed to be, I was creating more problems for myself and imposing a stupid state of mind on myself when I could simply get up and get going with anything.
I knew I was being stupid, but I wasn't so sure I even had the energy to be brave anymore. Being stupid didn't cost me any energy, all it cost me was some time that needed to be killed either way.
Putting my head in between my knees, I sighed. There it was again- the heavy, hollow weight on my chest. I felt as if I couldn't breathe, as if someone had their hands around my neck and they were strangling me; not enough to kill me, but just enough to make me cry and beg to get a fresh breath of air. I felt like the oxygen I was breathing in was polluted, and each and every breath I took suffocated me more, so much so, that I felt like I was constantly on the brink of death.
Footsteps zoned around me, the collective chatter of people flew past my ears, and then all of a sudden- I was in my own little world.
It didn't matter if it was raining, there was an endless, slow drizzle going on in my head all the time.
I didn't know how long after, but I felt a quiet tap on my shoulder, which I believed was my imagination as I continued to live inside the thoughts that had plagued my head. It was only after I felt a few more taps on my shoulder- a hard probing kind of tap, when I looked up.
Axel Clark stood in front of me in all his hesitant glory, his eyes roaming my features frantically, his eyebrows knitted together in distress, his lips drawn together in a thin angry line. He had a small pizza box in his hands, which he held firmly.
I craned my neck upwards and looked at him expectedly, waiting for him to say something. His green eyes remained specifically focused on my nose, but refused to go anywhere else.
"Er....You okay?" He asked, and to my shock, the question didn't sound forced. Of course, as usual, Axel Clark looked like he was going to puke just from talking to me and I could see how hesitant in was in asking the question from the tight clenching and unclenching of his jaw, but his words sounded genuine. But then again, weren't words the most deceptive things in the entire world?
"Isn't that my line?" I shot him my best forced smile and avoided his gaze wholly, wanting him to go away. At the present moment, I didn't feel like talking to him. I didn't feel like talking to anyone.
"You just seem..... a little out of it?"
"Have you ever even seen me ... in it?"
He looked even more distraught when the words left me lips, and he used the pad of his thumb to rub his temples. An unintentional smile made its way onto my lips.
"Never mind," He muttered, loudly enough for me to hear, "Bad idea number 899 Axel. Way to go."
He quickly turned around, but just as he was about to leave, something inside of triggered. It was an overwhelming desire. It was an overwhelming desire to keep conversing with him, an overwhelming desire not to see his broad back as he left me alone with the things I couldn't handle.
"No, wait!" I yelled a little louder than intended, watching him turn around tentatively, unsure of whether to ignore my request or accept it.
"I... I'm sorry. It just hasn't been the ideal day."
"I can see that."
"I don't know what to do."
"I'm terrible at giving advice, I swear." He didn't offer me a smile. He offered me a visible curl of his lips, which I believed, was far more valuable than a smile.
"I'm scared." I whispered more to myself than to him. I knew how absolutely pathetic it was, exposing myself to him when I was supposed to be the one making him expose himself to me, but it was as if I couldn't help it. There were words inside of me which threatened to overflow if I didn't watch my tongue, and that frightened me beyond limit too.
Everything frightened me. In the eyes of the world, I was Xavier. Xavier Alexander. And the world- it believed I was indestructible.
I wasn't indestructible. I was weak, and I was fragile, and I was not the 'brave' quarterback everyone looked up to.
I was not what everyone looked up to. I was so much less. I was so, so much less.
He remained silent for a few seconds, the quiet buzz of people making me want to rip my hair out.
"What," He cleared his throat and looked away, almost as if he was pretending that he wasn't talking to me, "Scared is what you're feeling. Brave, that's what you'll be doing."
The words slowly sunk into my skin, embedding themselves into my head.
Before I could comment, or even think of commenting, he handed me the pizza box. Well, not handed. It was more like he threw it right at my nose, but same thing.
"Have it. It's pizza. Eat it, then get the fuck up, do whatever you have to do. Then reward yourself, and eat more pizza. You'll be just fine."
He turned around. I was too shocked to stop him, or to even say anything as I clutched onto the pizza box in my hands, my mind racing with everything that had just happened.
I looked at Axel Clark's broad back as he rushed down the street, disappearing from view.
Just as he was completely about to disappear from view, he turned around. Our eyes didn't connect. He was too far away for me to see the curl of his lip, or the redness of his cheeks, but I felt it. I felt it.
Some time passed. I just stared at the pizza box in my hands, and at the street down which he had gone.
"Thank you, Axel Clark. Thank you."
Then before I knew it, I was taking a deep breath, and I was up on my feet, somewhat ready to face whatever reality had in store for me.
-
Hi guys! How are you? I hope you're doing well!
EEEEP I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS DID YOU SEE THAT HE GAVE HIM HIS PIZZA EEEP EEEP EEEP IT LITERALLY TAKES EVERYTHING INSIDE OF ME NOT TO MAKE THEM KISS UDWBEDIBWIEF
I feel like I haven't updated in so long... * cries * I sincerely apologize for the late update. I just got over from giving 11 * beep beep * exams, which proved to be much more difficult than I thought. I had to pull an all nighter in well, basically all of them, but other than that, they went quite well!
How did I survive? I don't know. THE IMPOSSIBLE ONLY SEEMS IMPOSSIBLE UNTIL IT IS DONE. I basically read a lot of motivational quotes(A LOT) I got on Wattpad a lot when I was super stressed, I listened to every song by "Years and Years" at every chance I got, I drank a lot of coffee and finally, my lovely aunt helped me to prepare for my exams. I don't even know how I've done this I am exhausted okie bye.
I really like this chapter, because just like you could see the relationship between Axel and Brooke in the previous chapter, you can see the relationship between Scarlett and Xavier in this chapter, which is just as complicated. I apologize for the slightly explicit, straight content, but I really hope you like this chapter. It's 3 at night right now, and I usually don't post chapters this late because my brain stops working, but I literally cannot wait till tomorrow, so here you have it! * huggles tightly *
This is dedicated to SamanthaHeart9 . I absolutely love all your comments, and they literally make my day. THEY MAKE ME GIGGLE AND SMILE LIKE AN IDIOT THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE SUPPORT, IT MEANS SO MUCH! * huggles *
I would also like to give a shout out to demididdy (Because Wattpad doesn't allow more than one dedication). THANK YOU SO MUCH I SWEAR I READ YOUR COMMENTS AND I HAD TEARS IN MY EYES HOLY HELL THANK YOU IS SUCH AN INADEQUATE WORD THANK YOU! * next dedication ~~~ * * huggles tightly *
The GIF is Tim Borrman, who plays Xavier and the song is "The Hills" by The Weekend(It kinda fits... I'm sorry, I'm too exhausted to come up with anything better). This chapter is also a little longer and .... Sadder..... I'm sorry..... AT LEAST HE GAVE HIM PIZZA.
Lastly, I just want to say a HUGE THANK YOU to everyone out there again, because I literally started sobbing when I saw the reads today. 24.5 K, it's too overwhelming for my poor heart. Literally, I am horrible with my own words, but THANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVE ALL OF YOU SO MUCH THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!
I hope you're having a fantastic day/night. I love you. * huggles tightly *
Thank you, beautiful people.
~ Fuzz