Leaves, Seasons, and Dead Trees (BxB)

3. - Lemony Breath

"You were wrong, I was right,
didn't matter in a fight."

- "Leader of the Landslide" by The Lumineers -

*****

⚠️TW: realistic depiction of alcoholism; addiction; trauma

*****

Fira's paw clutches the vodka bottle, tipping it to her lips, and the liquid swiftly vanishes down her throat. She then precariously abandons the half-drunk bottle on the edge of the coffee table. From the kitchen, Axel emerges, already dressed for work, his paws cradling a steaming mug. His eyes fall on the bottle perched provocatively on the table, and his jaw tightens.

"Really? You're drinking this shit in the morning now?" The words push through his clenched fangs.

Fira chuckles under her breath. "You know I can't go a single day without it." Her words hang in the air, heavy with the truth. Yesterday's argument had led to a feeble promise, one she abandoned as easily as the bottle in her hand: the craving had gnawed at her, and right now, she's craving it every second.

"For one day only? Dammit, Fir!" Axel's head dips slightly, his shoulder stiffening as his wife flashes a wry smirk. He looks at her with something close to defeat, the vodka glinting in the corner of his eye. The thought of sitting next to her flickers briefly, maybe to make her feel something. Regret. Guilt. Anything.

He drops onto the empty seat next to his disheveled wife."I'll change the channel." His paw reaches for the remote. But when his claws brush only fabric, he frowns, setting down his coffee and looking around. "Can you stand up? I can't find the stupid remote."

Fira rises wordlessly, arms limp at her sides. "I turned the TV on manually."

However, Axel pays her no mind, still unable to locate the elusive remote. His scowl deepens as he scours beneath the sofa, sifting through dust and empty space where she usually stashes her empty bottles. Axel then diligently probes the crevices between the sofa cushions.

Fira tugs at his arm, almost forceful. "Come on, just sit down and watch the boring show."

He jerks his arm free. "And that's exactly why I'm changing the damn channel! You couldn't care less about the show! You never give a damn about any of 'em!" His words hit harder than he intends, but they hang in the air like something heavier. He isn't talking about the show, and Fira knows it, but she's too tight-lipped to talk back. If anything, the more her husband searches for the remote, the quicker her heart beats.

The reason for Fira's tied tongue soon comes to light when Axel's claws unintentionally graze upon an empty whiskey bottle that wasn't there yesterday. Fishing it out, Axel's brows knit together, fingers curled tightly around the bottle in his paw. His gaze gradually shifts towards his wife who flinches under his scrutiny. "This wasn't here before."

Fira opens her mouth, struggling to form words. "Listen, babe, I can—"

"Don't! You're just gonna lie again!" Axel's snarl cuts through the air, tossing the bottle on the carpet with a dull thud. "You think leaving it out like this was smart? Like I wouldn't notice?" He turns his back, rummaging for the remote with swift, jerky movements. He finds it now, but the sight of it in his paw does nothing to quell the storm inside. Instead, he slams his fist onto the coffee table, a crack echoing through the room, his gaze piercing Fira. "You lied to me, Fir! Are you not seeing what you're fucking doing?!" He straightens, towering over his wife.