What makes you beautiful
Axel had a routine.
Every morning the gangly redhead would rise long before Roxas, he got up painfully early for the sole reason of primping and preening before Roxas had a chance to see him ruffled. He'd be up at the crack of dawn, stumbling down the hallway to the bathroom, light turned on as it just wasn't quite light enough yet for him to style his spikes without it.
He'd shower, and shave, moving onto his makeup, before scurrying back to the bedroom with just a fluffy white towel wrapped loosely around his waist. He'd moan and groan to himself as he picked out his outfit for the day. Once he was satisfied he'd potter his way down to the kitchen to prepare some coffee, bringing back a cup for Roxas who began to wake at the smell of it.
Roxas always tried to tell Axel that he didn't need to dress up for him, he didn't always need to look his best for him; they were way past the initial dating stage and therefore Roxas thought Axel should feel comfortable to just slouch around in sweats, his hair loose and face clean from makeup. But alas, Axel never listened.
The blond would whole-heartedly agree that Axel always looked positively hot when he was all done up. But what he couldn't get Axel to understand was that Roxas thought he was beautiful when he was lying beside the shorter man; thin lips parted as he breathed softly, dark eyelashes fluttering against his pale cheeks. With smears of last night's makeup streaked around his eyes, his hair a long tangled mess, and as naked as the day he was born.
Axel didn't seem to get that the man Roxas fell in love with wasn't the perfect, funny, charismatic man that strutted about, flaunting his stuff. No, the guy Roxas fell in love with was the vulnerable man who slept beside him every night. The guy he'd way up before just so he could admire the way the disappearing moon or the rising sun made his skin glow.
He'd lay perfectly still, a grin hidden in his pillow, pretending to be asleep when Axel slipped out of bed to get ready for the day. A glimpse of blue was all that was visible as he peeked a look out of the one eye at his boyfriends ass as the redhead shuffled inelegantly out of the room.
That man, that man right there, the tired, scruffy, beautiful redhead scratching his ass was the one Roxas fell in love with, because he's beautiful, and he doesn't have to do a thing to make himself so.