The Delivery Boy(boyxboy)

Chapter 16: Phone Numbers and Swearing Buddies.

Father, father, tell me where have you been?
It's been hell not having you here
I've been missing you so bad
And you don't seem to care
When I go to sleep at night, you're not there, yeah
When I go to sleep at night, do you care, yeah

Do you even miss us?
Your bottle's your mistress
I need to know, I need to know
Why are you walking away?
Was it something I did?
Did I make a mistake cause
I'm trying to deal with the pain
I don't understand this, is this how it ends?
I will try to understand

-

Xavier

Axel Clark was a mess.

By now, his voice was sore and scratchy - too high and too thin, too cold and too hot, too violent and too soft. His body was trembling, the goose bumps on his skin made all his hair stand up, almost as if in fear of the enormity of emotions he was experiencing. The veins in his neck throbbed, the space between his eyebrows was lined with sweat as he heaved, again and again and again - like he was losing breath, like he was drowning. The sun set and the skies burned and the city woke up, and Axel Clark stood in the 45th Street of Madison Avenue and screamed his broken heart out until his pain exploded everywhere and he became nothing but a fragment, but an outline, but an illusion.

Until he became nothing but the mess of contradictions which he was built of, nothing but the utter chaos which dwelled in his heart.

And by god, was it intoxicating.

My heart slammed in my throat, each one of his screams synchronized with the beating in my chest. My throat grew dry as chalk, my eyes grew so wide they almost hurt - He was too much to look at, he was too much to absorb. It was stupid to say in the least. But I hadn't experienced something remotely human for so long, it was beautiful to see something come undone so naturally, to see someone fall apart catastrophically, to see someone in their truest, rawest form -

To see someone as a human being. Not as an interesting human being, or a damaged human being, or a broken hearted human being. Not as a human being with an adjective placed as a prefix, not as a human being who was anything else than a human being.

And with his injured knuckles and his bony hands and the birth mark behind his ear and his fear of arachnids and his love for Chemistry and his terrifyingly green eyes and his horribly broken heart - Axel Clark was so true and so raw and so awfully, awfully, awfully human- it was exhilarating.

"FUCK YOU!"

Another ear piercing scream entered my ears, breaking me out of my haze of emotions. For a moment, I felt as if I was drunk - as I would lose control and fall down. But apparently, I wasn't falling. I was floating.

"FUCK YOU!"

He just kept getting louder. Axel Clark was so good at hiding his emotions, even now as I stared at him his mask remained firmly on his face, he was too careful to let it slip. But his voice - that annoying, deep, hidden voice of his was what gave it all away. His emotions weren't on display anywhere else except between the syllables that he screamed.

Crack

"Axel," Tiny droplets of blood seeped out from his knuckles, his features looked haunted and distant. "What the hell are you doing?"

"What you told me to," Bitterness laced with every letter, a heart that ached so loudly I could hear it, "I'm letting out my anger."

Crack