Yaaaaaay first little story in this pointless, plotless, collection of stories. There is no set pairing in any of these little stories, and there probably won't be lemons (which is soooo weird for me.) They probably wont be very long either. I also hope to update every weekend, BUT DON'T HOLD ME TO IT! Anyways, yeah, first one! GO ME!
Disclaimer: I OWN IT! *screams out from sleep, waking self up* Aw... damn... it was just a dream... I don't own Kingdom Hearts...
When I was growing up, all I wanted was to fit in with all the other boys. I was fearless in the face of danger, or at least in the face of the daddy-long-legs in the bathtub and the larger than life Great Dane in the back yard. In fact, he was my horse. I drank soda and competed in belching competitions with my two best friends, Hayner and Pence. We were real men, at least that's what our 6 year old brains told us. When I was 10, I took up guitar. My mother wasn't too happy about it, she wanted me to play the girly piano.
In the seventh grade, we met Olette, a new girl from Arkansas. We befriended her right away and for a little while, she participated in our friendly belching competitions, mud ball wars, and soccer games. Eventually, she got into shopping and I, being the nice one, accompanied her while she shopped. One day, she decided that I needed a little make-over, not just any make-over, a girl make-over.
"C'mon Roxas, just try it on! It would look totally good on you!" I looked at the garment in Olette's hands. The… thing… was pink and had bows and sequins and flower pattern all over it. (Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating a little bit, but who doesn't?) I looked at that thing with an uneasy look.
"But… Olette, I'm a guy! Guys don't wear chick clothes!" She rolled her eyes.
"Roxas. It's not like anyone's gonna know. We're alone in this dressing room. I'm not gonna tell that you tried on a dress. No one will find out unless you tell them. So c'mon, just put it on!" She shoved the dress into my arms and looked at my expectantly. I opened my mouth to protest, but she gave me a "do-it-or-I'll-put-it-on-you-myself" look and I closed my mouth quickly. I sighed and handed her the dress back.
"Fine, just let me get ready first." Olette smiled in triumph and waited patiently while I stripped down to my boxers. "Okay, hand it over." She threw the dress at me, and I slipped it on my body. Olette zipped the back up and we both stared at my reflection in the mirror. I looked at myself, turned around to examine the back, and raised an eyebrow.
"Ya know, I feel oddly comfortable in this…" Her mouth pulled into a huge grin.
"And you look fantastic in it! I'm buying it for you whether you want it or not!" I tried to protest but she pulled the dress off me and ran out of the dressing room. I sighed and put my clothes back on. I had the feeling it was going to be a long day.
And it was. Olette insisted that we buy pumps to match the dress, which earned me weird looks from the sales clerk and everyone else who saw me trying to walk in the shoes. Luckily, she didn't make me wear them until we got to her house, where she made me put the dress back on so that she could doll me up in make up. When I saw myself in that mirror for the first time with (what felt like) mounds of make-up caked on my face, I fell in love. I looked gorgeous, at least to myself. So, this became a weekend ritual; trying Olette's clothing on and learning the ways of the make-up world.
When I started high school, I promised myself that I would slowly let my secret fascination of being a woman out to the whole world. It started with make up, a little eyeliner and foundation first, then onto nail polish and lip gloss. I started wearing shorter shorts and shaving my legs (amongst other places), plucking my eyebrows, and I got my ear pierced. I wore bracelets and rings and necklaces and other colorful things. Finally, I came out of the closet. No one was really surprised by it.
My senior year, I decided, was when I was going to go all out. So I showed up my first day donned in a blue skirt and tank top, purple fishnets, a baby blue vest, and blue flats. I had clips in my hair and brand new accessories. I felt great. Then, I saw him. Axel, the gorgeous redhead who could melt you to goo with one look. I walked right by, giving him a flirtatious wave as I strutted down the hallway. I could feel his acid green eyes follow me.
Everyone seemed to accept my "newfound" girly side, except the few close minded people that sat in the back corner of the cafeteria at lunch and wrote depressing poetry. Unfortunately, the biggest guy at school sat in that group, Xaldin, and he stared at me the whole first day. Needless to say, I felt extremely uncomfortable. Then, he pinned me against the outside gym wall.
"What the fuck? You're a guy. Guys don't wear this…. shit," he said, pulling one of the clips out of my hair. I glared at him with all the death in the world and pulled it out of his hand.
"That's mine, thank you very much," I spat and snapped the clip back into place. I crossed my arms. "What's your problem anyway? It's none of your business how I live my life, so fuck off." He didn't seem to like that, considering he grabbed my hair and pulled me up to his height. A searing hot knife cut at my scalp, or at least that's what it felt like.
"You listen to me, you little shit," he growled in my face. I struggled to get away from his vicious grip on my hair, but he clenched tighter. I cried out a little. "What you're doing is fucked up. Be a man, not a little pussy." He released my hair with a quick shove into the wall. I held my head in my hands before glaring back up at him.
"What makes you think you're so high and mighty?" I growled back and spit on his face.
"You little faggot!" He yelled and reared his fist back. I flinched against the wall and cried out as his fist hit my face like a train hits a car on the tracks. My body fell to the ground and tears threatened to spill from my eyes, but I held them back. I wasn't about to let this guy see me cry. I looked up to see his leg getting for a kick and I braced my self, shutting my eyes tightly. The kick never came. Instead, I heard a loud crack and a shout. I opened my eyes to see Xaldin on his knees, holding his bent out of shape arm, and a livid Axel look scowling down at him.
"You leave him alone, you fucking prick," Axel hissed before turning to me. He picked me up off the ground and looked at my face. I heard him hum, examining the side that was hit by a train. He smiled a little and wiped up the blood. "Nothing make-up couldn't cover," he said, winking and breaking out in a full grin. I blinked a few times before busting out in laughter. I dusted myself off, and looked at Xaldin, sticking my tongue out like a two year old, and walked to the bathroom to see if Axel was right. Sure enough, my foundation covered the already bruising cheek and my lipstick barely covered the cut on my lip. So, what's so bad about being a girl?
Yeah! Reviews are the marshmallows in my rocky road ice cream :D