night terror.

axel gets too friendly with people when he’s had a little too much to drink, and tate feels the ripple of annoyance growing in him when he has to bring him home.  there’s a wide smile on axel’s lips and a slur to every word he speaks  -  and he’s speaking a lot of them.  tate wishes that he would just shut up and leave him to the quiet, but it doesn’t seem like axel will be doing that any time soon.  

irritation.  all he feels is irritation.  visions of axel dancing with people way too close makes his lips turn down into a much tighter frown, makes his grip on the other’s wrist just a little tighter as he drags him back to their flat.  tate could be living anywhere else, places far more high end but to stay with axel, he moved in here.  because when he’s with him, he’s home.

axel probably doesn’t understand that.  he’s too busy giggling and letting the alcohol in him make bad decisions for him.  tate pushes him into their room without much ceremony, not saying a word  -  because he rarely says anything at all.  

he wonders if axel knows how he feels.  probably not.