It read‘Monday hates you too.’It was fucking hilarious.
Sam waited for Axel to comment, but when he didn’t, Sam closed his eyes, letting out a heavy sigh. The sun had started to push against the moon, but it was still cold as chills shook his bones, clothes soaked through. “I –”
“You should head home,” Axel said, interrupting him.
Sam’s stomach twisted, fists clenching. “Why do you do this?”
Axel finally looked up, a frown pinching his brows. “Do what?”
“Act like you’re alone, that you don’t have people around who would drop everything to support you.”
Axel blinked, mouth opening to reply but Sam stopped him.
“I don’t know how to help you, Axel. Because you need help, even more so because of your complete denial that it’s normal to what? Self-medicate with drugs?”
Axel stiffened. “You don’t understand –”
“Then help me understand.” Sam moved until they were face to face, Axel’s lips opening a fraction. “Help me understand. Tell me why you get high, why you poison yourself with all that shit.”
Axel’s body remained as rigid as granite. “I don’t need to be fixed.”
“Who said I wanted to fix you? I care about you, you fucking idiot.” He wanted to scratch his claws across Axel’s chest, just so he would react with something other than such indifferent bullshit.
Axel’s hazel eyes were hard, empty when they steadied on his. “Look, you have your own stuff to deal with, and I have mine. Let’s leave it at that.”
A growl vibrated his chest. “Fine.”
Axel’s features remained frozen, not a single emotion as he stepped away. “Fine.”
Sam ignored the ache developing behind his ribs. He was no longer able to feel the cold, his body numb as he slowly walked back to his place. His frustration had gone well past worry, and now sat sternly at anger.
Axel wasn’t his problem, and yet why couldn’t he shake him from his thoughts?
“Bloody idiot,” he mumbled beneath his breath, strides quickening as he turned down his street. Sam understood addiction, the comforting familiarity of doing the same thing over and over. A compulsion. What he didn’t understand was not wanting help in breaking the impulse, the need to hurt himself.
There must have been something more, because he had a support system. He had his cousin as well as the other Guardians, and yet he was in a free fall.
The gate to his home squeaked, and Sam halted. His front door was ajar, and he was confident he had slammed it closed before he had chased after Axel. Slowly approaching he listened, ears straining for movement inside.
Walking on silent feet he opened the door the rest of the way, stomach dropping when he noticed the words smeared in black across his wall. Heart thundering he swept the place, finally able to breath when he confirmed he was alone.
“Fuck,” Sam muttered, reaching over to touch the paint that was still wet.
436 Lower Parade.
11.a.m
Don’t be late.
* * *
“Was this really necessary?” Alice asked as she pushed the wet rag across the wall, wiping away the words. “What could he even want after all these years? Your father, I mean.”
“He wants me to join his pack, I think,” Sam said, back pressed to the opposite wall as he watched, Poe purring in his lap. “Apparently I’m this hot commodity, baby girl,” he said, hiding the growing panic.
“Humble too, apparently,” Alice said, catching his nerves.
“You’re right, I should work on that,” Sam said, smiling sadly as his best friend shook her head. “I’ve told you not to bother. I’m going to be looking for another place soon anyway, so I was going to leave it as a parting gift for Mr Gibbson.”
