Saïx has tried since he first laid eyes on him, the newcomer, the haughty one, pure and proud and beautiful, to forget that he ever saw Axel. To forget the way that his sudden appearance sliced through his existence like a fiery arrow, leaving a trail of smoldering, hesitant passion in its wake. To forget the set of his jaw, the tilt of his eyes, the clever, sardonic accents of his voice. To forget the way he moves his hands as he talks, the drama and the pantomime. A beautiful braggart.
When he watched, the words stirred themselves on his tongue, and he would bite them back, angrily. Such fickle attentions were beyond his consideration. Not only was he unworthy of them, he was, by his very nature, unable to feel them, unable to succumb to such frailties, such needs. And yet… he could not tear himself away. He watched anyhow, mesmerized, like they all were, by this bright and fiery life in their midst, unpredictable and exotic and wild beyond any dreams of knowing.
Saïx has tried, too, to forget his weaknesses. He knows of Axel's falsity. He knows that he is willing to please, that he routinely denies himself for others, for no recompense, for no reason. And he knows - worst of all - that Axel, far from trying to imitate having a heart, has moved beyond the need for it entirely. All that Axel needs in life is the boy.
The fact disturbs him. It disgusts him. It repels him. And he burns with the knowing of it, burns with jealousy, burns with anger, burns with a deep, consuming, nihilistic sadness that underlies it all, letting him know that all was hopeless. But in the end, he lets it burn him. To feel the pain of fire, of trapped truths coursing beneath his lips, is fine. Better than nothing.
So, try as he might, he cannot forget. The name, the face, the person, all that Axel is demands attention. He demands never to be dismissed, never consigned to oblivion, never to be written off as merely foolish, merely weak, merely nothing. Merely Nobody.
Axel asked him if he had it memorized, and he did. He always would. Each word, each deed, each quirky habit, each flash of bright green eyes. Saïx would remember everything. Always.