A/N: Alright. So I have the story edited thanks to TheAnnoyingVoice. Dear, I am truly grateful for your help. You're a lovely person and I can't thank you enough. :')

Disclaimer: No, I don't own KH. Why does reality hurt?

Chapter 1

19th November 1908- - -I can't hold this feeling anymore. Every time I see him I have the sudden urge to confess my feelings right in front of him but he might think I'm a freak because sadly I'm a male, like him.

Axel made a face. A distasted one, that is. He closed the leather-covered journal and tossed it at the very end of his bed. He stood up from the swivel chair and headed for the door, with questions ready to bombard his grandfather, mainly "Why the fuck did you have a gay journal up in the attic?"

It was the weekend and usually Axel would get out of the house and do what people at his age would normally do but the weather in Radiant Garden was being a bitch to him and he hated it the most when it would rain at any time of the day because he inexplicably despised rain with passion. Also, he was staying in his grandfather's house while his parents were away for their very own holiday. Normally his parents would let him stay at home on his own but they learned their lesson not to leave their 19-year old son alone. Images of the kitchen almost burning and the whirl of mess that they found in their house after Axel invited lots of people for a party while they were away kept haunting them. So they decided to ask Axel's grandfather if their son could stay over at his house for the meantime.

The redhead could always get a place on his own but why waste money when he could just stay at his parents and grandfather's houses? Besides, it was hard to earn money these days. His salary from his part-time job was not sustainable anyway.

Axel sluggishly went downstairs and saw his grandfather sitting comfortably on a cosy burgundy armchair with a cup of tea in his hand while watching the 6-pm news. "Hey gramps," he said as he sunk himself in the burgundy sofa across from his grandfather.

His grandfather, whose name was Jon, took a sip of his tea before acknowledging his grandson. "Axel."

"Ehh, I checked the attic and- - -"

"You snooped, alright."

". . . I accidentally found something in a chest. . ."

"The one that's not supposed to be opened, yes?"

"Jon, seriously," Axel rolled his eyes.

"Axel, for the umpteenth time you are not allowed to- - -"

"Go up in the attic without permission. Yea, yea I hear you say that a gazillion times and I got that memorised and I knew you wouldn't let me go up there anyway so I got tempted and intrigued as to why you wouldn't let me. So. Guess what caught my eye?" Axel grinned. A grin that could make Jon have a heart attack many times before.

". . . Lola Jones'(1) lingerie?" Jon asked with a freaked out expression.

"Nope . . . wait. Lola Jones' lingerie? Are you for real? Why do you keep lingerie up there? Who's this Lola girl?"

"She was a famous actress back in my younger years," he answered dreamily. "She died from a car accident and they put her stuff in an auction and that's how I got her lingerie."

"Wow. How pretty was she?"

"Really pretty, son. So stop stalling and tell me what you actually found."

"Fine. Just some lame journal."

Jon's face went blank and it took minutes before he heaved a sigh, putting his cup on the side table. "Did you read what's in it?"

"Not the whole lot but yea and man, it was gay. Don't tell me that we used to have a gay ancestor. "

Jon tutted. "Who knows but that journal was originally from a person who fell in love with your great-great-great-great-great- - -"

"Okay, I lost count, gramps. Just skip that part and go on."

"But that's all I can tell. I know nothing much about it. Not even your mum knows about that journal because she never checks the stuff that is supposed to be hidden away."

"Oh so you were like me, messing with some stuff in the attic years ago?" Axel asked with an I-know-you-did grin.

Jon cleared his throat. "Of course not. Unlike you, I always ask permission before checking some things."

Axel crossed his arms with a scowl. "Meh, you're just in denial," he muttered. "So why did the owner of the journal give it to . . . one of our forefathers?"

"Like I said, I don't know but if I were you I'd read all of the contents first and see if we have the same answer as to why we have that journal in our lineage. I'm not telling you what mine is until you read the whole thing. You need to read, son. How long has it been since you actually read a book?"

"Ugh fine, I'll read it," he grunted as he stood up from the sofa. "Great. Why can't people understand that I hate reading, especially. . ." He continued to grumble until he got in his room.

Jon sighed and continued to watch the evening news and mumbled to himself. "That lad should just grow up."

Axel slumped on the mattress after grabbing the journal from the edge of the bed. He lazily opened it and on the first page he saw a name, Roxas Curtis, in which he presumed was the owner of the journal. He must have missed it earlier when he was curiously scanning the entries. Eventually, he decided to read it from the very start.

21st December 1907- - - I got this journal as my early Christmas gift from my uncle Luxord. He's the best uncle in the whole world.

As my first journal entry, I'd like to write something very memorable and exciting but today is just not one of the best days. As usual, I hear my mother rambling about how useless I am. My father always agrees with her. If they didn't like me, why was I born? Why let me live to this day? I know I am starting to get weaker than before but could they at least make my remaining years. . .or months memorable?

I'm Roxas Curtis, born on the 11th July 1892, living in Destiny Islands. My mother's a dressmaker and my father's a dockworker. I have an older sister named Naminé and she's a painter who travels around the world and hasn't come home in two years. Whenever she is around I feel safe and loved.

Emerald eyes looked up from the journal to stare at the clock that was hanging on the wall. It was almost 8 when he realised how heavy his eyelids had become because reading made him drowsy though the journal had his interest piqued. He closed the journal deliberately, deciding that he could continue reading the journal in the next day and stared into space. "Roxas, eh?" he mindlessly said before drifting himself to sleep.

In Axel's dream, a person or a boy, to be specific, was straddling him. His blurred face was facing him with his apparent blonde hair covering his eyes. Face too close, the blonde boy kept calling Axel with a different name.

Axel woke up with a jolt. A pressure was pressing him down on the mattress. He rubbed his eyes to clear his vision and see the reason for this odd sensation. To his utter surprise and fright, the said blonde in his dream was straddling him.

A/N:(1) She's no one. I only made her up.

Anyways, reviews, criticisms and suggestions are welcome. ;)