Whole New Complexity (A Sequel to Crazy As Normal)(Izzal)

Chapter 5

Axl showers off the salt on his face, his whole body relieved under the hot splay.

"I hate to take showers. Guitarists don't like showers 'cause we like the grease to build up on our fingers, makes playing more fluid."

This is Izzy's unchangeable opinion. Very well put. Axl doubts the performance part, if anything, he simply regards his rhythm guitarist as a lazy dude who hates a shower, so Izzy might sleep in his own bed now. Axl turns off the shower and puts a towel around his shoulders. The freshness of the shower didn't wash away his depression. Today was a tough day, but even after the fathomless argument, he longs for the guitarist's arms and his smell of sweat. He won't sleep well with these insecure feelings without Izzy's tender embrace. Cuddling up to him in instability is becoming a lifeline now. He will not get it tonight. In sorrow, he puts on his T-shirt and boxer shorts after he blowdries his long hair.

His best friend is actually on the mattress, but not on his own when Axl comes back to the room. Izzy lies on his belly on Axl's bed against his prospect. Axl's not complaining, though.

He looks down at his guitarist and asks sheepishly. "Can I?" He feels odd since this is his bed.

Izzy murmurs yes inarticulately, tossing his black leather pants and socks on the bed which probably he took off while Axl took a shower, opening up a space. Axl quietly lies down beside him. Izzy bends over him stretching his body, turning off the light on the nightstand. It was before he's back to his own position when their cheeks touched. Axl closes his eyes and waits for a soft kiss.

Izzy says, "Not tonight," then stretches his arm straight.

Axl puts his head on it. Izzy doesn't want a little kiss tonight, but he lets himself cuddle Axl. What's the difference? Well, Izzy claimed that he wasn't going to dwell on their notions earlier. Axl decides to follow suit. He leaves Izzy's mercurial attitude at that.

Face to face but no words. It's not rare in their history. The silence brings many disordered thoughts to Axl's head and one of them draws his attention.

"I didn't like your name. You remember?" Axl says under his breath. They are close enough and they don't need to vocalize loudly.

"Izzy?" Izzy whispers back.

Axl slowly blinks once. He's completely open to call him 'Izzy' now, but he'd been furious until he accepted that 'Izzy' became common despite his resistance.

One glad, chilly autumn morning back in Lafayette, Jeff dropped his books on the desk in a classroom, declaring in a loud voice before their middle aged female math teacher arrived. "I'm Izzy from this day forth!"

Wearing a wide grin, the taller boy he called himself Izzy came to Bill (He wasn't late this morning.) and said, "My uncle named me after my last name, isn't it fucking cool?"

Bill pouted. "Which one? That your uncle named you or your fucking new name?"

"I'm talking about Izzy!" His grin became even wider.

In contrast, Bill felt his heart's heavy weight just like a gloomy rain shower soaking into a hoodie in late autumn. "Not at all, and he's a shit." He spat out in a sulk.

"You can't say that. He's my family member." Jeff or Izzy or whoever the hell made a face.

"Anyway, you're Jeffrey. Forget about this stupid nickname." Bill rushed to the door, never minded that his uncommon punctual behavior was now in vain.

He found himself not bringing his bag and duffle coat with him, but prowled around an empty lot near Jeff's house where two friends often killed their time. Before getting dark, he hid himself in a lot because he knew that Jeff would come to the lot to look for him. Almost frozen with cold, he stayed in the lot until sunset, coming back home, recognizing his bag on the dining chair.

Mrs. Bailey knitted her eyebrows and nagged him with a deep sigh. "Jeff just came by. Where were you? Where's your duffle coat? Did you attend the classes?"

"What did he say?"

"He said you did, but I can tell he lied for you." She shook her head on a large scale as though Jeff caused Bill's misbehavior entirely.

"Don't say bad things about him, mom. He didn't lie to you." Bill replied and shut himself in his room.

He called Jeff examining in his house to mind by the window. Jeff might have walked around the house, peeping into every single window. Had he found his evil dad at home, he wouldn't leave his bag. He had a deep understanding for everything about Bill. They were tight. However, Bill's friend was Jeff, not Izzy. He felt like the new name symbolized Jeff's own world he hadn't known before, and he knew that he couldn't touch it. They were two different existences. Bill hated the reality.

He didn't go to school the next morning. By the time he finally returned to school from his three day disappearance, the Izzy had become very common. Bill started to call him Izzy a month later. He didn't want to affirm it, but the name provokingly suited Jeff's carefree coolness.

Now, a decade has passed. Axl proudly informs, "He was already Izzy back then," when someone asks about his guitarist's name since he's the only witness here in LA. To him, 'only' is always the key to the bold connection with this childhood friend. He's wanted to be the first person who affects his friend's life in all senses and the only person who could do that.

Izzy seems to recapture Bill's temper clearly. "You were like yelling at me all the time when someone called me Izzy." He smiles wryly.

"That's because you let them do so." Axl grabs the hem of his friend's T-shirt.

"That's because I asked them to do so." Izzy tucks the lock of red hair behind his ear and strokes it a few times.

"If someone named you, I had to be the one, y'know," Axl pours his honest feeling.

Izzy doesn't answer. He perfectly masters how to deal with his childhood friend. Axl lifts his head, curls his hand along his cheek getting closer slowly, touching his lips with his.

"Not now." said Izzy while Axl chews his lips.

Izzy turns aside, but that doesn't cause Axl's hesitation. His hand goes down and snakes in under Izzy's T-shirt, putting the other hand along Izzy's jaw line, his tongue tastes the other's. Izzy keeps telling him to stop when he can escape from his lips and breathes between the kisses.

Axl doesn't stop. "If you kiss a guy, it should be me. Just me." He means it in earnest.

"Guess it's you." The black curtain covers his face as Izzy turns aside again.

"Please. I need this." The voice is feeble, wears a pathetic tone.

Axl tugs his shoulder and pursues his mouth on Izzy's desperately. 'Just me' begins predominating over his brain. His hand goes in Izzy's boxer briefs, easily touches the most sensitive element. It's half hard and this physical reaction assures him.

"Axe, don't." Izzy's back bends backward in pleasure.

Axl's hand doesn't stop its movement. Izzy wrinkles his eyebrows, his mouth is slightly open. The subtle moans with the hot breath break through it irregularly. Axl squeezes his bulge.

"Shit!" Izzy whines and flops over Axl, violently pinning his shoulders against the mattress.

"It hurts!" Axl yelps but he doesn't say more because he catches that the taller man bites his lower lip and openly glares at him. He is utterly driven by an urge.

An urge of the arousal.

He bends over Axl. He kisses him, touches him, and uses a lube with his two fingers.

Axl pants under the first and weird wriggle inside of him, but he's intendedly at his mercy. He must be the first man Izzy inserts his fingers in, and he will, hopefully, be the only man for the rest of Izzy's life.