( Completed ) Pet play | Axton X handsome Jack

Chapter 23: There Will Be No Mercy Here

There Will Be No Mercy Here

Axton lay awake in the large bed. Eye's focused up on the ceiling, unblinking and wide. He had no idea what time in the morning it was. Early he assumed by the grey light crawling in through the large windows of the bedroom. His body felt no more rested than the moment he laid it down the night previous. If anything he only felt worse.

His fingers were still laced in the sheets of the bed and his head was still buried in Jack's pillow. His body felt dead, inside and out. Like a snake having shed itself, and all he was, was the scales left behind. A memory. A hollow being.

He knew in his heart that he should eat.

He had to, he hadn't managed to keep food down in days. He had to try and eat something. Axton willed himself to sit up weakly his abdomen folding as he curled upward. His eyes were dead as they scanned over the crinkled bedding, over the room that felt so foreign now. It felt like an otherworldly space. Somewhere rough and corrupt. It no longer held that homey feeling it once had. It was no longer warm and inviting, a place Axton yearned to come back to. It was cold now with the absence of the Hyperion President. Cold and unwelcoming and full off all the memories of happier times, of angry times, of times when they fucking hated each other. Of times when Axton was nothing more to Jack than a play thing. Of times when that had slowly changed.

Axton hauled himself off the bed with greater effort than he expected. He just felt like dead weight, heavy and exhausted. He was not ready for this day, or the next, or the one after that. He was not ready for any of it.

His feet shuffled across the floor as he opened the bedroom door with a small creak. The bedroom was unusually quiet for such an hour of the morning. Normally Jack would have already been awake, showering and singing loudly, or rummaging through the closet muttering to himself about having nothing to wear when really he had everything to wear. Axton would still be in bed, that was until Jack forced him out of it and made him get ready for the work day. There would be none of that now. There was only silence, and the steady rhythmic tick of the clock on the bedroom wall.

Axton just stood in the doorway, his body hanging and motionless. Nothing seemed real, not the room, not the place, nor the silence around him. After what seemed like an eternity he made it to the large kitchen.

He yanked back the cabinet and halfheartedly tried to search for something that seemed even remotely appetizing. As he moved a box of cereal aside he noticed a box of cookies with a sticky note hanging on it. Axton cocked his head and gently plucked the note from the cardboard.

"Ax, if you eat these I swear I will murder you in your sleep. Love, Jack" was scribed across the piece of paper in Jack's neat little handwriting. A small smiled cracked across Axton's chapped lips.

He placed the note back on the box and set them to the back of the cabinet. A pang of sadness ripped through his gut as he grabbed the box of cereal slowly. He poured a bowl and sat down at the brunch table slowly, his chair scraping the hard wood as he pulled it out. He sank down in the chair limply.

Normally the smell of coffee would be fumigating the home at this hour, it's delicious scent creeping into every crevice and space. But not now. There was no coffee brewing. Axton looked down at his sad little bowl of cereal and stirred it with his spoon. His eyes flicked across the table where Jack normally sat. He would sit there with his Hyperion mug, one knee folded up in his chair, his dark rimmed glasses clinging to his nose as he flipped through the Opportunity Times.

Axton frowned at the empty seat and then down at his bowl of cereal that was quickly becoming soggy mush. Axton stood angrily and dumped the cereal in the trash, bowl and all, shattering its ceramic little form. The thought of food only turned his stomach. He yelled out and stormed back into the bedroom where he ripped open the closet doors. He yanked his combat uniform off its hanger and began pulling it on frantically, bile rising up in his throat.