Author's Note: I couldn't wait. I started the first two chapters last week and I really couldn't wait. I don't even know if this first chapter's interesting enough. My original plan was to wait until "He Gets It" was finished, but I need my dose of AkuRoku now. As the summary said, this is a companion to "He Gets It." You don't really have to read one to understand the other, so for those of you new to the storyline don't fret! Start in whichever order you want.

For those of you who aren't new to the story, I just wanted to say that you might spend the first few…well, several chapters still angry at Roxas and Axel. This is a jump backward in the storyline, so some scenes will be repeated. Hopefully you'll enjoy it just as much. Thanks as always for reading!

Roxas; I Used to Hide Away and Only Try to Save Myself

"Why?"

"Why?"

"Why, Sora?" I shake my head at him. I shake my head and I just keep thinking 'why' over and over again, because I really don't know what to make of the scene in front of me.

He's in a skirt and a blouse. A black skirt and a yellow blouse with vertical white stripes. And he's got matching pearl earrings in each ear and gloss on his lips and eye shadow on his face. He has his hair flattened and curled into a short bob. He has eyeliner in his hand and he is about to apply it, but he stops to look at me with this strange expression on his face.

Ma is still at work, even though it's going on nine at night, so we have the house to ourselves. It isn't the first time Sora's hogged up the upstairs bathroom, but I need to shower and get to bed because I'm tired. But he is just standing there in that outfit and not looking the least bit shameful about it and…

I'm sure he's done this before. I can tell that much.

I shake my head at him. "Why, Sora? Do you just like dressing up as a girl?"

"I do."

"Why?"

"I'm a girl. I am."

"No you're not."

"Yes I am."

"You're fucking weird, you know that. You're really fucking weird. What if Ma finds out?"

"P…please don't tell her."

And it's weird looking at him because as he speaks I keep thinking that my twin, my brother, actually looks really pretty. He actually looks really good as a girl and it's weird and freaky and I keep wondering why.

I shake my head again and walk out without another word. Forget the shower.

That was four years ago. We had been twelve. We had been twelve and it had been two months after Dad's funeral…

See, my relationship with my brother is weird.

Once upon a time we used to be extremely close, inseparable. We did everything together when we were younger. Told each other our secrets, occasionally bathed together—we were toddlers; get your mind out of the gutter—played together whenever we were under the same roof. You see, Ma and Dad couldn't take care of the two of us at first. They got married young and just barely had enough to get a house of their own. They had planned for one child, saved for one child, decorated a nursery for one child. So they were surprised when they found out Sora and I would be twins.

Since they hadn't been financially set to take care of two children at once, Grams stepped in and offered to raise Sora. It wasn't like they were giving him up; they just wanted to wait until they had the resources themselves to raise two children. Even still, our parents made sure Sora and I saw each other every day. They were over at Grams' place more than they were at home; changing diapers, feeding, letting Sora and I toddle around. It was like that for years.

When we turned eight, Dad had come out with his first book. Ma had graduated, was working full time at her campus. Things changed to the point where they could afford a bigger house. So Sora moved in with us for a time, but still went back to Grams most of the time. I guess he had gotten so used to living with her that he preferred it there. He went to the school closest to her area, since the state said he was technically under her supervision. Even though he lives with Ma and me now. Not that anyone minded. That's just how it worked out.

Even though Sora had stayed with Grams for a majority of the time we had been close. We could talk to each other. Times were good when we were younger. And as weird as this is gonna sound, I think puberty ruined it. See, Sora's… He has this thing. I always kind of noticed it, but it didn't really come out until after Dad passed. Until we hit puberty. I knew about it. Ma knew about it. Grams had an inkling.

Sora liked to cross dress.

We hadn't talked about it after that incident. Not for a while.

On our thirteenth birthday I bought him his first bra, because he had wanted to take it a step further.

On our fourteenth birthday he ordered a long-ass wig online behind Ma's back. A wig, and these…silicon things… He used them to stuff his bras. He also started buying his own makeup and jewelry.

By fifteen he was cross dressing more and more often, going out in public as Sora the Girl. He spoke as a girl. He acted like a girl. And since people he met didn't know the truth, they treated him as a girl.

Do you know how freaky that is? Do you know how freakish it is having your brother parade around as a chick, with fake hair and boobs to match, and no one else realizes it? Do you know how freaky it is knowing that, in spite of that, he actually makes a pretty convincing female?

I never told him that. At first I thought it was some weird phase that I could indulge for the time being, but when it didn't stop it started weirding me out to the point where I just stopped talking to Sora completely. It got to the point where, unless you were somehow close to my family, no one I knew was aware that I had a sibling at all. I never mentioned him. I didn't want to. So long as people didn't ask, there was no reason to. What if people found out, huh? What did you say to that?

That's why I didn't know how to handle it when Axel met Sora for the first time.

But that's getting a little ahead. I don't want to start with Axel or his relationship with Sora. Jumping right in there won't make much sense in the long run. Because my relationship with him—whatever it was that we had—was beyond complicated. Beyond confusing. Beyond frustrating. Yet I kept going back to him, always…

I'm not going to start with Axel.

No, I'm going back enough for you to get it, for you to follow along. I need you to understand one thing before I can start anywhere else: Things changed after Dad died. Everything changed. It was the shock of it that ruined what our family had.

We're different people now.

My dad and I were close. Very close. As close as a father and son could be. He was the only man in my life that I can openly admit that I loved. (This is before Axel.) There was this bright aura around him all the time, no matter what, and he had this way of drawing you in with just a look. He was the kind of guy that could walk into a room and manage to strike up a conversation with a complete stranger. He was the kind of guy who you ended up calling a close friend after talking with him just once. He was always on his feet doing something, completely devoted to it until it was done. It could be anything.

Sports—he'd taught me everything, how to play basketball and soccer and football and tennis and wrestling. And more. You name it. Sora had never really been into any sports when we were younger, but he would sit off to the side and watch while Dad and I played around in the backyard.

Work—there was never a time where you'd catch Dad without some sort of notebook and pen on his person, where you wouldn't see him writing something or other. He would have been on book three had he lived to finish writing it…

Family—he adored Sora and me, always spent time with us. He worshiped Ma. And I've never seen a couple so in sync with each other, so in love with each other, like Ma and Dad had been. He spoke to and treated Grams as if she was his biological mother, treated our aunt as if she was his real sister and not just an in-law.

Religion—his parents had instilled in him Christian morals and values, a pious love for God. He hadn't been overbearing about it, wasn't some Bible-thumping hypocrite who would pass judgment on you if you told him you didn't believe in God. He was a tolerable man, respected other people's beliefs even if he didn't agree with them. But he had made sure to teach us anyway, made sure we went to church every Sunday and read the Bible the moment we could string words together. Because he had thought it was important that Sora and I, as his children, developed our own relationship with Christ. At our own pace. And I'd be lying if I told you that, years ago, I hadn't believed feverishly. Years ago I'd been a strong believer, all because of Dad. All of us had been.

Things changed so much.

Ma would confront him all the time in those last two years… Sora and I had been ten at the time, hadn't understood why Ma was upset about money turning up missing from the joint savings account or the secret appointments that Dad kept up with. He had stopped being the fun, loving, open, adoring, and trusting father we had seen him as. He'd been tired. Irritable. Secluded. Always out of the house. Or fighting with Ma. She thought he'd been cheating. Threats of divorce were thrown in the air.

It took another year for the man to admit he'd been battling with cancer behind our backs.

It took three months after that for us to learn that he had hidden it for nearly two years.

It took nine months after that for his condition to worsen until, finally, he passed away.

Things changed.

Mom started focusing on her work more and more, to the point where she spent more time teaching and organizing events at her university than at home. She worked late into the night and barely said a word to us in the morning. She stopped smiling and laughing like she used to, which in turn made us stop smiling and laughing.

Aunt Renee didn't come over as much, eventually stopped visiting altogether. We didn't get to hang out with our cousin Yuna like we used to. Maybe once in a blue moon, during family gatherings at Christmas or Thanksgiving, but for the most part they faded away into the background. Which was understandable. Aunt Renee and Dad had been best friends, even before he and Ma married, so she took it pretty hard when the word got out.

Grams kept to herself and went on with her life, like things hadn't changed. But something inside her had hardened, just a bit, because she had seen Dad as the son she'd never had.

Sora… Sora started wearing bras and skirts and dresses and a wig. He started hoarding girls' clothing in this trunk in his bedroom, started dressing up when Ma and I weren't home. But I'd caught him one day. He started going through Ma's makeup and magazines. He started pretending that he was a girl—still does—and it drove me insane because I thought he was crazy. I tried going along with it, tried getting along with him like I used to, but eventually we stopped talking. Really talking. We just drifted apart.

I stopped talking to the friends Sora and I shared. Hayner, Pence, Olette. Just avoided them altogether until, eventually, I fell out of their circle. It wasn't hard, considering the fact that they went to a different school than me. I focused on my school work more. Sports and clubs. Operation Smile. Track. Basketball. Bible Club. I volunteered at the church that everyone else in my family, save for Grams, stopped attending after the funeral. I made sure to stay as busy as possible so I wouldn't have to think about anything else.

Our family stopped speaking. Yes, there were conversations about trivial things. Like what we'd eat for dinner, or when our next report card came out, or if we watched the morning news. The generic questions that every family asked: "How was school? How as work? What did you do today? What do you want for dinner?"

But other than that my family didn't really talk. It was like Dad's death had sucked out all of the happiness we once had and left us as a group of strangers sharing one roof.

Each one of us, Sora, Ma, Grams, and definitely me… We. All. Changed.

You've got to understand that.

Freshman year had been the epitome of suckish. And I add "ish" because it wasn't completely bad, but still pretty damn close. I hadn't really known anyone at school and hadn't made an effort to get to know anyone. I hadn't really felt like joining any of the clubs or sports teams they had open at the time. I hadn't particularly enjoyed my teachers or my classes. I had been the quiet angry kid that read and wrote a lot in the back of the room for pretty much the entire year. I didn't know why I felt annoyed and or bored by everything—there were a few reasons I came up with, but none of them had been quite right—I just was.

Axel had been the only one who got to see another side. Well, no, that wasn't right either. He hadn't seen another side, he had brought it out. Something friendly and chatty and a little open—just a bit, because I hadn't let people get too close, no matter who they were.

He had been the goofball junior in my keyboarding class, had sat at the computer next to me. Always had a box of Dunkin' Donuts with him every morning, the powdery kind that got real messy no matter how careful you were. And every day when he walked in he would offer three to our teacher, who made an exception to the no food and drink rule just so she could enjoy her free breakfast before starting the class. I remember Axel trying to get me to talk one day by waving a donut in my face, like I was some sort of dog, and saying, "You know you want it."

And instead of taking it I snatched his box and kept the rest of them for myself, much to his displeasure. We've been friends ever since. He made freshman year a little better, just a little, even though we only saw each other for one class five times a week.

But I'm getting ahead again. I don't want to start with Axel. There was another boy.

Riku Prioletti. He'd made things…interesting. To say the least. Meeting him had been an accident. Meeting him had changed things.

The first time I saw him he had been sleeping. Friday after school. I hadn't wanted to go home because Sora was probably there dressed up and Ma wasn't home. So I took a walk outside, decided to check out the lake a little ways out in the forest behind the soccer field. I'd had a box full of powder donuts and my backpack slung over my shoulder, and I just kept walking through trees and damp grass with this lost feeling. With this deep desire to see the lake I'd heard about, to just sit by it for a while and think to myself. Maybe write something.

I hadn't expected to see someone laid out beside the water's edge. A silver haired boy laying stomach down on what looked to be a beach towel, using his messenger bag as a pillow. He had his arms folded in front of him, his head resting on them and his bangs practically blanketing his pale face. He looked so peaceful, so calm, so comfortable where he was.

My first thought was that he was cute.

My second thought was that something was horribly wrong with me for thinking he was cute, because I didn't swing that way. No… I didn't think it was okay to swing that way.

But.

He was kind of cute.

There was a camera resting beside him in the grass, screen facing upwards and a little damp from the cool autumn air. Just a few inches away. I hadn't been close enough to touch it or its owner, but close enough to see what I'd assumed was the latest picture. Catching sight of said picture made me flush beet red—which was something that I just. Didn't. Do. But this picture—

There was a naked woman. And I'm not gonna lie to you; it caught me off guard. Not that I hadn't seen a naked woman before. Not that I hadn't seen a woman curl up on a bed with her legs tangled in sheets and her fingers buried in her hair and her body arched up the way it was on that camera screen. No, I'd seen that before.

What made me flush and freak out was the fact that the woman had looked eerily like this boy. The same silver hair that fell around her shoulders. The same round yet angled face. The same paleness. Striking sea green eyes that were looking right at the camera. With this fierceness, this self pride.

It was unmistakably a picture of his mother. Naked. Purposefully posing naked.

What the fuck?

There was no way I could stay put after that, no way I could just leave. I kept thinking, maybe, this guy… Maybe he and his mother… I'd fought the urge to vomit, shook my head. Nearly dropped my box and bag. But I went over to him, slowly, careful not to wake him. I'd sat down beside him and set my stuff down, watching the way his back rose and fell with each deep breath. And before I could stop myself I let curiosity take over and picked up his camera.

Yes. It was stupid. Yes, I should have walked away. No, I shouldn't have touched his camera, let alone skim through picture after picture wondering (hoping?) if I'd come across another nude picture of his mother. Which still left a bad taste in my mouth, now that I thought back on it. I just didn't get why anyone would want to have pictures like that. Of their mother.

But that had been just one of a few. (Not that that made it any better.) The rest weren't of people, no, but of everyday objects. Of plants and animals. Calming scenery such as a different forest, of an autumn landscape with burnt orange and gold and burgundy leaves raining through the sky. A children's park with worn down playground equipment. A stray cat perched on a brick wall. The still, blackish waters of the lake beside us. And more. All of them were high quality, even though the camera itself seemed old.

I don't know how to explain it… Something about the pictures. I mean, yeah, you just aimed a camera, pointed and clicked a button. Simple. But something about these pictures was different. Something about them spoke to me. It was like I could tell how much this boy loved taking pictures just by looking at them. Getting past the almost incestuous photos of his mother, I think he genuinely enjoyed it. I know, it was strange making that kind of assumption, but—

"What the hell are you doing?"

If you had seen the way I jumped, you would have been surprised that I hadn't leaped right out of my skin. The sound of the boy's voice shocked me so much that I'd thought my heart literally stopped, if only for a moment.

He was wide awake now. When he'd woken up, I couldn't be sure, but he was fully aware and staring up at me with such striking green eyes so much like his mother's… Then I remembered the pictures of his mother, flushed deeply and tried to swallow the lump in the back of my throat. Shit.

"S…sorry, just… Your pictures are nice." Your pictures are nice? Now he's gonna think you're some kind of pervert. Crap… I mean, they were nice. Charming in a way, almost professional. But the ones of his mother… God, I didn't want him to know I'd seen them. Or what if he already knew, now that he'd caught me red handed? What would he say? All of that rushed through my head in a matter of seconds.

The mystery boy just frowned and narrowed his eyes at me. "Don't touch the fucking camera."

"I said sorry…"

He hadn't said anything for a moment, instead pushed himself up and rubbed some of the sleep from his eyes. I didn't know what else to do, so I just held the camera out for him and he all but snatched it from my hands. Checked it. I guess, to make sure I hadn't deleted anything. After a couple minutes of reexamining his pictures, of me looking away in embarrassment, and him making this weird noise in the back of his throat; he'd looked back up at me with this curious expression. "Roxas, right?"

I blinked in confusion, eyes wide. "What?"

"You're Roxas. The kid in my English class."

What? Had I seen this guy before? "Third bell? Mrs. Bronx?"

"Yeah. You always sit in the back."

So he knew who I was… I wasn't sure if that was something I should have been even more embarrassed about or not. "And?"

Snap. One picture. I hadn't been able to get words out fast enough to stop him, so he just snapped a quick picture of my face. Then he looked at it, looked at it long and hard like he was studying some work of art.

I blinked. "Why…?"

"I like your face. It's cute." He'd said it so matter-of-factly, so simply that I'd almost thought I hadn't heard him right. But no, after a couple of seconds my brain processed the sentence and confirmed that, indeed, he had said I was cute. Some guy I'd never met before had called me cute.

The strange thing about it, was it didn't fill me with disgust. I didn't feel the need to deck him for it. Any other person… I would have probably done it. Would have probably said something nasty enough to ensure that they wouldn't call me 'cute' again. (Yes, I was that kind of person…) But… With him, it gave me this weird feeling. Made heat rush to my face. And he gave me a knowing smile because of that.

"The hell." I muttered, scooting away after recollecting my thoughts. "What, are you gay or something?"

"Bi."

"Gross."

A laugh. "Why, does that bother you?"

"Yeah, actually, it kind of does."

"I don't see you walking away, though."

And what the hell did he know?

"It's gross," I repeated angrily, thinking on something Grams had said to me one day, long ago. That just made the teen's grin broaden. There'd been something so playful about him that I couldn't stay upset for too long, but it still creeped me out. Does that make sense?

"Says the boy watching me in my sleep."

"I wasn't… Stop staring at me like that."

"You really have a nice face," he said quietly. He wasn't joking.

I scowled, ignoring the weird flutter in my chest. "Look, pretty boy, I'm not gay."

"Mm."

Change the subject, Roxas. "What's your name anyway?"

"Riku. Why, you wanna stalk me some more? What of it?"

"Nothing, I'm just curious."

"Uh-huh." He had stretched his arms into the air then, this smirk on his face. Then he set the camera back down in its original spot before laying back down the way I had found him. He looked up at me with those captivating eyes—why the hell was I getting so caught up in his eyes? And he had that weird smile on his face that sent some sort of ripple through my body. "Well, Not Gay Roxas, I'd really like to continue this nap. But feel free to keep watching me in my sleep if you feel up to it."

And I hadn't said anything to that, just gave a snort. Looked to his camera again, reached for it because I was still genuinely curious. Because I wanted to delete that photo of me.

He'd slapped a hand over mine, though, squeezed it tightly enough to make me wince. Narrowed his eyes. "And don't. Touch. My camera."

"Or?"

"I'll rip your balls off."

Of course you would. I'd rolled my eyes at him before pulling my hand free, rose to my feet and gathered my things. "Whatever."

I had left him after that, not really understanding the feeling he gave me but enjoying it all the same. And even though I hadn't realized it at first that was the start of so much more, the start of a lot of good and a clusterfuck of bad. I hadn't known then that Riku had his own story that somehow managed to intertwine with mine. I hadn't known that it would change things the way they did. That chance meeting, two years ago, was a catalyst. I guess you could say that…

So you see, there's Sora.

And there's Riku.

And there's Axel.

All three of them radically flipped my life upside down.

But that's a little later.