Axel, Axel, Axel, Axel. He reminded me of Christmas, ever since the first ever time I met him. Which, suspiciously enough, happened to be the day I had 'jingle bells' stuck in my mind all day.
Red and green and red and green and red.
That was the other way – when I was completely fucking out of it – that I could tell him and Demyx apart. Demyx was summery, green calming eyes and sandy blonde hair that reminded me of, well… sand. Axel on the other hand had pale skin, as though he'd been locked away from sunlight, which he sort of had. The complexion most people had in the dead of winter.
As with their personalities, which I have spoken of before, happy Summery Demyx and
…
Axel.
I mean, don't get me wrong. Axels' not some kind of pissy little tosser. The only time I even saw him close to crying after a particularly bad coke trip. He woke up more Christmassy then ever. Red like blood.
And there was blood…
… Everywhere.
He'd managed to get himself into the state of mind where the bugs join you. We'd all gotten them at one point, even Demyx. Coke bugs. Axel had woken me with a sobbing painful noise, which most people describe as a scream. But no, Axel didn't screech like anyone else would have, he bit his lip and held his breath. He had slits and torn skin all along his forearms, thighs, calves and stomach. Clotted up but, shit, they'd been deep. Luckily, and quite surprisingly, he'd managed to avoid the main blood lines. It didn't kill him but he was begging us for something, a knife, a blade, anything sharp to stop the burning.
We're stupid. But not that dumb.
We bound him up fast and took him to Demyx's (who's house we were at) mother, a nurse named Aerith, and had her stitch him up. She was overly tolerant. Do be honest; she sort of scares me in that aspect.
Anyway that's sorta irrelevant, the point of the matter was this:
Axel Christmas
Demyx Summer.
He even tastes like Christmas…
The end….
Wait no… that wasn't the point, the point was, that no matter how much agony he is in he just bites his lip and get's over it.
… Wait, again… That… was the point… right.
No?
Okay then, just pretend it was a history lesson.
