You Don't Come Close.

14

Axl is curled up at my side, absently moving his fingers against the bed frame. I can sense he's tensed somehow, staring into a corner of the room, obviously so in thoughts, he isn't recognizing what he's looking at. It's starting to get cold, all naked and without a blanket, but I don't wanna move, not knowing what's the matter with him.

I have my arm around his belly, holding him near, but he's laying with his back to me, curled up to almost a ball. It's naturally reminding me of a hedgehog: vulnerable but dangerous. And that's why I'm not moving. I just look at him. His almost transparent skin, the soft golden hair at his legs, the thick strands of red at his neck, the tattoos, all those bracelets at his wrists. The cross necklace- and that's catching my attention. I reach out to pick it up, letting my thumb stroke over the metal, but suddenly Axl moves, slapping my hand away. "Don't touch it."

I give him a surprised look, but just shrug my shoulders then. "Ok." He immediately starts staring into nothingness again, but with that damn cross still in his hand. I honestly don't even know why he even wears it and I never asked- to be honest we never used to talk much, at least not about further going topics.

"Axl?"

"Hm?"

"You ok, man?"

"Yes."

The hand around the necklace is tightening, his knuckles going white. Well, people may think I'm just a

kid, just an alcoholic: spoiled, scatterbrained, careless, heavily determined by addictive behavior and hazed to a grade of loosing any sense for reality- but in fact I'm just not. I may be more attentive than everyone thinks, but I'm also much cleverer, although I never talk much.

I see things, I sense and recognize them, but as long as they aren't my business I don't waste a word. Why should I? As for right now I can count the things together and yes, I think it could be my business, at least to a grade. "Don't you wanna take it off?"

"What?"

"That necklace."

"No!"

And nothing more from him, but a low growl. I sigh, wanting to just kiss his caginess away, but right now doesn't seem to be a good idea. "You regret it?"

"I...", he's biting his lips, "yes...but no...it's just..."

He's sounding all fragile and almost like sobbing, so I turn around to him- regretting by myself now, cause I asked and I don't really wanna know the answer- pressing my face to his back. "It's ok...I get it."

"Well...I think you don't."

"Try?"

"Uh...no...dunno...you said...you said you lost sight of yourself, right?"

"Yes."

"Still?"

I am quiet for a longer while, cause' it's not easy to answer and I am not really able to answer it properly now."Yes...maybe...somehow..."

"Two of us then."

"But, ya' know, that...general answer, well...we wanted to test it right?"

When he turns to his back, he's looking grim, harshly brushing a hair strand from his face and back to the mess of golden hair on the pillow and all around his head.

"Yes. Goddammit! And fuck, yes, we found it, right? We fuckin' have it now- the answer and a damn dilemma. Motherfuckin' shit..."

"We do?"

"Don't...ugh, just don't."

"Don't what?!"

"Don't try to fuckin' question it, ok?", his voice is rising slightly, "It's not just...not..."