emi

The thing is, it wasn’t supposed to work.

It was a toy, a party trick, a stupid joke meant to bait gullible teenagers into dropping their allowance on a whim. Rowl only bought it because he thought Mongey would think it’s cool and want to put it somewhere in his apartment—he always collects weird looking trinkets and displays them everywhere. It makes Rowl feel a little uneasy when he visits Mongey sometimes sometimes, but Mongey’s always been a little eclectic like that so when he’d seen the little display of One Wish Willows, it had looked exactly like the type of thing that Mongey would love to pull out and show to a guest at his place.

Then, Rowl had been desperate, and he’d snapped it and used the wish before Mongey could ever even see it.

He’d thought it was a joke. He was just frustrated and sad and it wasn’t supposed to work.

How the fuck was he supposed to know?

—

“Rowl, do you like me?”

“What?” Rowl snaps his head to look at Hax, who is knocking on his car window, his voice muffled through the closed glass. Rowl rolls down the window and Hax leans into the car to get closer to Rowl. He pushes his hair out of his face, a glimmer in his eyes that Rowl always notices appears when Hax is doing his best to stare right into someone’s head.

“If you like me, then now is the time to tell me,” Hax says, leaning forward.

Rowl’s tongue goes heavy in his mouth. “I don’t— what are you talking about?”

“Rowl,” Hax chides, but the way he says Rowl’s name is always tinged with endearment—an endearment that Rowl certainly doesn’t deserve. Not when he’s always leering lecherously at Hax, imagining what it would be like to have Hax in ways that he doesn’t deserve.

What would it feel like to get to touch Hax? To have Hax all to himself? To get to kiss him and whisper “mine” in his ear and hear Hax moan delightedly at the sound of it? Rowl would do anything for it—god, he would do anything. He’d drop to his knees and suck Hax’s cock until he couldn’t breathe, pleasuring himself with nothing but the taste of Hax on his lips before letting himself choke to death around Hax’s cock. He’d present himself so willingly, eager to let Hax have his way with him because Hax should be allowed to take anything he wants. Anything that Hax wants, he could have. Rowl would give it to him.

But he doesn’t have Hax. Not in this universe and not in any others. He doesn’t have Hax and yet, his heart sinks with jealousy whenever he’s reminded of it.

He’d been at work with Hax today when that one regular had come in—fucking Infume or whatever his name is. Rowl fucking hates him. He wants to dig his fingers into Infume’s chest and open him up just to see what it is that Hax likes so much. What the fuck does Infume have that he doesn’t? Rowl wants to kill him. Every time Hax looks at Infume with stars in his eyes, it makes Rowl want to kill him. Maybe it’s fucked up of him, but he doesn’t care. Hax had been leaning over the counter to get closer to Infume, chatting and laughing while Rowl had taken on the responsibility of making Infume’s disgusting fucking frappuccino that he orders because he won’t drink coffee—like he’s some kind of angel who likes to sit on top of his high horse and point and laugh at the people below him. Mongey had tried to say something to Rowl while he’d been covering the top of the drink with whipped cream and Rowl had glared at him so violently that Mongey hadn’t spoken to him for the rest of the shift. Rowl should probably apologize. He’ll use that dumb One Wish Willow thing as an apology gift. He’d bought it on a whim, but it works pretty good for this too.

It was a dumb little revenge plot of Rowl’s to offer to drive Hax home. Hax can’t drive so he’s usually hitching a ride home from Rowl or Mongey, but occasionally he saunters off to do something or other with the hundreds of people who adore Hax and would love to have him all to themselves. Rowl had seen the look in Infume’s eyes—the same look that Rowl gets when he looks at Hax—and he’d skulked up behind him, pressing the drink into Infume’s hand with maybe a little more force than necessary.

“Hax, do you want a ride home today?” Rowl had asked, putting his hand on Hax’s shoulder to capture his attention and relishing in his close Hax got when he turned to look at Rowl.

Hax’s face had lit up, bright like the sun itself. “Really? I don’t want to be a bother.”

“Since when are you ever worried about that?” Rowl had deadpanned, which Hax laughed at.

“I’m becoming a better person. It’s called growth.” Hax had placed his hands in a mock prayer pose. “You should try it sometime.”

Rowl had watched as Infume shifted his weight awkwardly, clearly unclear of what his role currently was in the conversation. Infume cleared his throat and then said, “Well, I was thinking— I mean, I have— I have… a car? I can—” Infume stumbled over his words, his cheeks flushing bright pink.

Rowl cut him off. “Maybe next time, Infume. You come in here often enough.” Rowl’s mouth split into a grin, self-satisfied as the green-eyes monster in his chest reared its head and he continued, “If you’re not careful, Hax is going to get the wrong idea and think you’re in love with him, and we wouldn’t want that, would we? Not when you’re just using him for a little discount on some overpriced coffee.”

“I’m not—”

“Actually, now that I think about it—why do you come here so often? I mean, you don’t even drink coffee. My frappuccino’s can’t be that good,” Rowl had continued, and then he feigned a gasp. “You’re not actually in love with Hax, are you? So obsessed with him you keep wasting your money on drinks you don’t even particularly enjoy? Hax, isn’t that just such a funny idea? So fucking funny—”

“Rowl,” Hax chided, his voice dropping low, “stop.”

Rowl froze, his hands immediately balling into his fists as he dug his nails into his palms. Infume’s face was bright red as he stood awkwardly, gripping his frappuccino with white knuckles.

“Infume—” Hax had turned back to Infume, but Infume cut him off.

“It’s okay, Hax, I’m just gonna… go. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything.” Hax opened his mouth to say something, but Infume didn’t let him speak. “Sorry, I’ll— I’ll see you another day.” Infume turned on his heel like a dog retreating with its tail tucked between its legs.

Fuck, what the fuck is wrong with Rowl?

Rowl continues staring at Hax, not speaking like some kind of moron. Hax just keeps looking at him like he can tell exactly what Rowl is thinking.

“We’re friends. You can tell me,” Hax says softly. “It doesn’t have to change anything.”

“I don’t— I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rowl forces out a dry laugh. “You’re my best friend. Of course, I like you.”

“Rowl, you know—”

“What? Do you think I’m like… in love with you or something?” Rowl laughs again, even hollower this time. “Hax, I know you have an ego, but that’s crazy.”

Hax looks at him again, his head cocked slightly to the side. Rowl avoids making eye contact, staring down at his hands gripping the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white.

Hax sighs heavily. “Okay, Rowl. Good night.”

Then, he turns away and walks into his house.

Rowl slumps in his seat, his shoulders caving forward. He digs his fingers into the meat of his thighs, digging his nails into the scarred skin. He falls forward, his head falling onto the centre of the steering wheel and honking loudly.

He slams his head backwards, a pained ow falling out of his mouth when he hits the headrest. He rubs the back of his head, and then bites down on his bottom lip, sending a stab of pain through his body.

He knows Hax doesn’t want him. He knows it. Why the fuck would he risk his friendship with Hax just to hear an answer that he’s already imagined a million times? Mongey has told him over and over again that he just needs to shoot his shot because he never knows what’ll happen, but Rowl does know what will happen. Why would Hax ever choose mean, callous, selfish Rowl over Infume? It’s not even a hypothetical that Rowl can think about—it’s impossible to imagine.

It’s not as if Rowl doesn’t want Hax—he wants Hax more than anything else in the fucking world. What he wouldn’t do to feel Hax’s lips against his, soft and gasping with every movement. Rowl would tangle his fingers in Hax’s hair just to hear Hax gasp when he tugs. Hax leaves his hair long for a reason—Rowl must have imagined twisting it around his hands and pulling a thousand times before. He’d press his knee against Hax’s cock because he’d be willing to do anything to make Hax feel good. Whatever Hax wants, Rowl could give it to him.

He’s not a bad person. Not really. Not in his heart. Maybe he’s a little selfish and maybe he doesn’t deserve Hax, but he’d be able to give him everything. Nobody else alive would be willing to give Hax the things that Rowl would. Hax could say the word and Rowl would drop to his knees and slit his own throat, desperate to give Hax even his own life. He’d fall to the floor and rub his bleeding neck against Hax’s shoes, and what the fuck else could he ever want? It wouldn’t just be enough for Rowl—it would be his greatest desire finally satisfied.

Rowl leans over into his backseat to grab the water bottle that he’d left on the floor after haphazardly tossing all his stuff from the passenger seat to the back to make room for Hax when he spots the little plastic shopping bag from the day before.

A thought snakes its way into Rowl’s mind, twisting into the corners of his brain and squeezing.

Leaning further into the backseat, he grabs the One Wish Willow and returns to his seat, staring down at the little box in his hand.

He turns it over to read the instructions on the back. The clerk at the store had told him that it really works, but that feels like too stupid of a thought to entertain. Maybe Hax would believe in something like that, but not Rowl. Rowl doesn’t believe in magic. He believes in only what he can see in front of him—what can be proven with touch. He believes in science and logic and he knows that miracles don’t exist. One would’ve happened for him already if they did.

Rowl carefully opens the box and a small stick falls out.

God, how fucking dumb is this?

It’s not like Rowl believes that making a wish is going to magically make Hax fall in love with him, but he supposes it won’t hurt to just… try to bring some luck into his life? He knows Hax is upset with him about the whole Infume debacle even if Hax hadn’t mentioned it during the whole car ride, so he might as well just hope that Hax doesn’t lay into him too heavy for it.

The stick fits comfortably in Rowl’s hands, slightly cold to the touch.

“I wish Hax Hackingnoises loved me more than anyone else in the fucking world.”

Rowl snaps the stick and feels just as stupid as he did five seconds ago.

What was he even thinking? What a fucking scam. He’s falling victim to the same schemes that he would berate Hax for. Mongey’s going to have a field day laughing about this when Rowl tells him (and certainly going to want to buy one for himself).

Rowl puts his seatbelt back on and grabs his phone, texting Mongey that he’s going to come over. There’s a liquor store on the way to Mongey’s apartment that he can make a quick pit stop at—god knows he’s going to need it tonight. Mongey texts him back “👍🐒🥳” and Rowl rolls his eyes and wraps his hand around the gearshift, ready to pull his car into drive.

Knock, knock, knock.

Huh?

Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock.

Rowl pulls his car back into park and tightens his grip on his phone, prepared to call 911 if he needs to. Better safe than sorry.

Knockknockknockknockknockknockknockknockknockknock.

Rowl glances at his passenger side window to see Hax tapping incessantly on the glass. He rolls down the window and Hax grins, holding onto the window of the car and leaning inside to look at Rowl. His hair is pushed out of his face and he’s grinning a stupid Hax-type smile that makes Rowl’s stomach churn with butterflies.

“Hax? I thought you were going to bed?” Rowl says as Hax reaches inside and unlocks the passenger door.

“You know, I really don’t like Infume,” Hax replies, opening the door and sitting in the passenger seat.

“What?”

“Infume. I really, really, really don’t like him.” Hax looks over at Rowl, his eyes bright with something that Rowl can’t quite place. “When you called him out today, that was really…” Hax pauses for a second like he’s trying to assess Rowl and then continues, “sexy.”

“Sexy?”

Hax nods. “Yep. He’s so desperate.”

“Hax, what are you talking about? Are you feeling okay?” Rowl undoes his seatbelt so that he can lean closer to Hax and press his hand against his forehead to check for a fever and make sure Hax isn’t hallucinating or something.

Something about the touch seems to snap Hax out of it as he blinks rapidly and then flinches backward. Rowl removes his hand from Hax’s skin like he’s been burned. Hax has never flinched at his touch before. Rowl isn’t even a particularly touchy person—Hax has always seemed to savour the few moments where Rowl would reach out first.

“Woah,” Hax hums softly, shaking his head. “You were really mean to Infume today.”

Rowl stares at him, completely lost.

“He means well. I think you’re just jealous,” Hax says, leaning back in the seat.

“Hax, what’s happening right now?”

Hax blinks again, and then he turns his head to look at Rowl. He reaches over to place a hand on Rowl’s thigh, playing with the hem of his shorts. Every time Hax’s cold hands brush against Rowl’s exposed skin, he feels a spark run up his spine. If he weren’t such a coward, he’d hold Hax’s hand and drag it up further.

“You don’t need to be jealous,” Hax says extremely seriously, still toying with the hem of Rowl’s shirts (Rowl rarely ever wears shorts, instead preferring things with more coverage, but fuck, he’s glad that his usual work pants needed to be washed today). “Of anyone,” Hax adds after a moment. “You’re my Rowl. You don’t need to ever be jealous.”

His Rowl?

“Hax—“

Hax presses a finger against Rowl’s lips. Rowl has to resist the urge to open his mouth and let Hax shove his hand down his throat and choke him.

“Can I come over?” Hax asks, rather abruptly. Rowl stares at him dumbfounded. “Please?” Hax creeps his hand further up Rowl’s leg, dancing his fingertips over the bare skin until he finds the hem of Rowl’s briefs. “I don’t want to be alone tonight. I’m scared.”

“Scared? Of what?”

“Did you know my cat has cancer?” Hax shifts around in his seat, leaning even closer to Rowl and rubbing his fingers along the edges of Rowl’s briefs. Rowl almost bucks his hips, desperate for Hax to push further, but he somehow manages to hold himself back.

“Since when do you have a cat?” Rowl asks, a breathy noise escaping his throat after he asks the question.

Hax shakes his head again. “Did I say my cat? I meant my dad,” he laughs softly, and then immediately straightens his face, completely serious as he says, “My dad has cancer.”

From what Rowl knows, Hax doesn’t even like his dad. He doesn’t speak to either of his parents anymore, and Rowl can’t imagine the Hax that he’s heard rant about his parents after he gets a couple drinks in his system caring about what happens to them.

But he supposes maybe anyone would care at least a little bit? It’s Hax’s dad after all?

“I’m sorry,” Rowl manages to say, squeaking when Hax pulls up the edge of his briefs and presses his hand underneath.

“It’s okay,” Hax hums before glancing at Rowl, catching eye contact and then dropping his smile again. “I mean, no, it’s not okay. I’m scared, and sad, and I don’t want to be alone.” Hax abruptly pulls his hands away from Rowl, sending a cold flush over the entirety of Rowl’s body. “So, can I come over?”

Hax doesn’t wait for an answer before putting on his seatbelt with a click.

“I guess,” Rowl manages to say, still unable to form proper words as his cock tents in his pants. With shaking hands, he grabs his phone and texts Mongey that he’s not coming over, to which Mongey responds with “☹️🦧🦧🦧☹️”.

Rowl takes a deep breath and turns his car on, trying to ignore the way Hax is looking at him like he wants to eat him.

“So? What are you waiting for? Let’s go.” Hax rocks back and forth eagerly.

Something about this whole thing feels wrong, but if this is going where Rowl thinks it’s going, he would be the dumbest man alive to not take advantage of it.

He pulls the car into drive and pulls out of Hax’s driveway.

—

See, how was Rowl supposed to know that some stupid kids toy would lead to all of this?

“Rowl, baby, don’t be scared,” Hax whispers, his voice soft and breathless as he corners Rowl against the wall. Rowl can smell the blood clinging to Hax’s skin, dripping down into the growing puddle on the floor. He keeps his eyes focused on Hax’s face because he knows that if he looks back far enough, he’ll have to see Infume’s body lying face down on the floor, bleeding out more blood than Rowl had thought a body could hold.

Hax’s grip tightens around the knife he’d used to carve Infume open as he holds it up to Rowl’s cheek, just barely pressing the tip in.

“I would never hurt you,” Hax giggles, like the knife is just a toy that he’s playing with. Rowl chokes on the scent of decay that emanates from Hax as he pushes closer. He’s wearing Mongey’s skin—god, he’s wearing Mongey’s skin. Rowl had thought that Hax had disposed of Mongey’s body yesterday, but apparently he didn’t, instead electing to peel the fucking skin off like a banana and plaster it on top of himself like it would make Rowl like him more.

“Hax—”

Hax slams Rowl into the wall when he tries to push away. “What do you want from me? Do you want me to fuck myself with this knife? I will! I’ll do it!” Hax shouts, his eyes wild and crazy as he waves the hand in the air. “Blunt side or sharp side—I don’t care! I would do it for you!”

“No, I don’t— I don’t want anything from you,” Rowl mutters, the corners of his eyes flooding with tears.

“Why won’t you just love me?” Hax sobs, his hand clenched tightly around the knife, as he drops his head into the crook of Rowl’s neck. After a second, he starts sucking on Rowl’s neck, digging his teeth into the soft flesh.

He wants to eat me, Rowl thinks, the only reason he hasn’t is because I’d be gone and he can’t stomach that.

“I do love you!” Rowl shouts and Hax’s head snaps up to look at Rowl.

“Really?”

“Yes! Yes, I— I love you, Hax,” Rowl says like a tainted confession.

The worst part is that it’s true. Even after all this—after everything that Hax has done for—Rowl still loves him. He loves Hax like it’s breathing. He doesn’t know how to turn it off. Hax could have killed every person in the world and Rowl would still find that his heart beats for Hax.

He’s scared shitless, afraid that Hax is going to kill anyone who dares to get close to him, but he still gets to have Hax. Didn’t he say once that that would be enough for him?

“Rowl, it’s not me,” Hax had whispered in the dead of night as Rowl had been sneaking out to go talk to Mongey.

“What?”

“He’s not me. I can’t control it,” Hax continued to whisper and Rowl noticed that Hax didn’t seem to be able to move his body, only barely managing to squeeze words out. “I’m stuck. I can’t— I don’t want to be doing this.”

Rowl’s stomach turned. He did this to Hax. It’s his fault. He did this to Hax and Hax didn’t even fucking know.

“Rowl, please— I need you to kill me. I don’t want to do this,” Hax had begged, lying in bed and unable to move. “I feel insane and I don’t want any of this. It’s like some kind of nightmare I can’t wake up from. Please just kill me.”

Rowl stared at him.

“Is being with me really that bad?” Rowl had asked, guilt festering in his stomach, but not enough to overpower his sick desire.

“No— what? That’s not what I—”

Rowl left the room before Hax could say anything else.

“More than anyone else in the world?” Hax asks quietly, leaning in so close to Rowl that Rowl can feel his breath on his lips. “Because I do. I love you more than anyone else in the fucking world.”

Rowl swallows heavily. Hax is so close to him. Hax is pressing up against him and telling him that he loves him.

What more could he want?”

“I love you more than anyone else in the fucking world,” Rowl answers and Hax doesn’t spare a single second before pressing his lips against Rowl’s, kissing him like he’s trying to suck out his soul.

Rowl kisses back, violent and angry. If he’s not careful, he’ll devour Hax whole and there’ll be nothing left.