Alrighty, then. I got one review for this story. One. I am extremely impressed. It's not quite as bad as what I had earlier this week, which was zero. Then iodized salt reviewed and made my day. So this chapter is dedicated to her (I hope to God you're a her and not a newly offended him) for being my sole reviewer. Thank you!

It's about 1:20 AM, so I'm a little nuts. The reason I'm up at 1:20 AM is because I watched Little Miss Sunshine until midnight thirty, then edited this thing while I drank Vault. And mourned being asked to join the National Honor Society. Why is this bad? Trust me. Meet my mom, and you'd find out. Either way, that's why this is getting posted at 1:20--I mean, 1:21 AM.

Disclaimerrrrr: I do not own Kingdom Hearts. Or Kingdom Hearts 2. Or Final Mix +. I wish I did. I also sort of do not own the title. It was inspired by Tanya Lee Stone's A Bad Boy Can be Good for a Girl. Obviously, this title wouldn't work for a yaoi fic, but it worked so perfectly I had to steal it. So I did and morphed it.

Warnings: All the stuff in Chapter One (yaoi, yuri, inappropriate language, and the self-mutilation thing. There isn't any in this chapter, so you can exhale slowly now...). Gray lines are changes in narrator, asterisks are scene changes with the same character. Enjoy.


A Bad Boy Can be Good for a Boy

Chapter Two: Everybody Has Secrets

Mom let us skip school so we could sort through our things to decide what we wanted to keep and what we could give to charity. This worked out okay for awhile until Mom, when she came upstairs to check on our progress and take a look at what we wanted to throw out, found that Roxas had raided her closet and dumped all her clothes and jewelry into Naminé's "Charity" pile. Not only that, he'd hidden her computer-the whole computer, monitor, tower and all-somewhere and refused to tell us where. After from that, he'd stolen Mom's keys, and then hid under his bed and wouldn't come out. Mom freaked out at that point, crazy with this fear that Roxas was under there cutting his wrists with her car keys.

Naminé calmed her down, though, by telling her that Roxas had never cut himself with keys before and wasn't likely to start now, seeing that he hadn't hurt himself on purpose for four months now.

Still, it was on our minds as we left Roxas to lurk under his bed with the stolen car keys. At least, I was thinking about it. Honestly, I wasn't too sure if moving was such a great idea where my little brother was concerned. He'd only graduated from therapy a month ago, and he still struggled with controlling his emotions. Yesterday with the glass was an example. I remember one time, around March, when Roxas put his fist through the TV. That kind of thing used to happen every day. Now, luckily, he only breaks stuff when he gets really angry, which, also luckily, isn't too often. His old shrink, this guy called Diz, had helped Roxas find outlets for his repressed anger.

His outlets turned out to be beating his supposed best friend into a bruised and bloody pulp in the Struggle Arena. I think Mom would've preferred an outlet that didn't leave him looking like a bruised fruit, but maybe I'm wrong. After he scratched the windows in the kitchen by throwing his skateboard at them (Mom had wisely installed bulletproof glass earlier, so they weren't totally destroyed), I'd bet she was willing to accept any damn outlet she could get.

I went to go make lunch for everyone, since I can hobble together a passable meal the best and with the least amount of bulimic activity afterward. It was grilled cheese today. I got out the pan and was all set to get the bread and cheese going when Naminé came downstairs, her white sleep shirt and sweatpants engulfing her tiny frame. Dad's frame—he was short for a guy. Her long, gold hair had been brushed but she looked exhausted. I wondered if she'd gotten any sleep last night.

"Hey Nam," I greeted, giving her a one-armed hug. "You alright?"

She looked up at me and her blue eyes were heavy, sad, depressed. It struck me then that this would be hard for Naminé too, just as hard as it would be for Roxas. After all, Naminé had to leave behind the girl of her dreams.

I had to leave behind Kairi. As much as I liked her and would miss her, she was in no way the girl of my dreams.

"I'm fine," she said. A textbook lie. We both knew she was hurting inside.

"I'm gonna miss her," she admitted after I gave her my best Long Hard Glare. " A lot. I love her, Sora."

Like I said: girl of her dreams.

"Nam," I said carefully, having to let go of her to tend to lunch, "you know it probably wouldn't have worked between you two." Or even happened. "She's straight."

"I know," she said flatly, hopelessly. And that made me feel worse. Naminé obviously knew how bad things were for her, being gay and all, and liking a straight girl.

I changed the subject to something sliiiiiightly less depressing. "Um, d'you think Roxas will be okay, moving?"

She shrugged as acrid smells filled my nose, telling me I had burned the bread. "Well, he's upstairs under his bed, probably planning to swallow Mom's keys. You tell me."


Sora's place was in total chaos when I got there. I could hear Roxas and Tifa screaming at each other from the top of the stairs. Probably, they were fighting over the huge pile of Tifa's stuff that was strewn all over the floor. Hmm. Roxas must not be happy about moving.

"Hel-looooo!" I called, my heart already speeding up in anticipation of seeing him.

"Hi Kairi!"

He walked out of the kitchen with an especially crispy-looking grilled cheese sandwich and smiled at me. God, that smile. It lit up not just the room but your heart…your whole universe, even. I'd waited all day for that smile, and now I could just hang around and bask in it.

"Hey Sora," I said, smiling back and walking past him, snagging the sandwich. "How's it goin'?"

"Good, now that you're here."

My breath caught. Figuratively, of course. I knew he didn't mean it, but still, I could dream…

"You can help me pack!" he chirped happily, nabbing his sandwich back from me and taking a bite.

Damn. The dream dies.

Sora kept up a stream of steady chatter as he emptied his closet, his desk, and his dresser. His stuff went into two piles: the tiny mound that was Charity, and the huge mountain that was Keep. He talked and talked about all the stuff he was going to miss here in Twilight Town, and how he'd come back to visit when his dad had visitation rights again.

I just sat on the bed.

Just.

Sat.

There.

And watched him. Everything about Sora is loud and bright and excited. The way he moves, the sound of his voice, the way he talks, the way his eyes shine when he's happy-or sad, or angry, or just thinking-and his face. Watching him move and talk and be alive-to feel all his loud colors-is just breathtaking. Painfully so, because when I see him like that it takes all my concentration not to gather him up into my arms and soak up his colors.

I am shaded. Dusky tones of darker colors. Elegant, pretty in a muted way, but not really flashy or interest—grabbing. I have to work to be noticed. If I am ever noticed, it's not because I'm hot or charismatic or obviously interesting. It's mostly because I'm smart. (Or violent. Roxas says that about me a lot.) Or funny. Or because I'm not afraid to show my feelings when I'm worked up.

That doesn't apply to my feelings about Sora, though. That's a whole 'nother Struggle arena. I'm not even gonna go there.

"So, what's Riku like?"

I blinked. I hadn't been expecting him to give me a chance to talk. "Ri-Riku?"

"Yeah, y'know…your friend you wanted me to look up? What's he like?"

I tried to form a clear picture of Riku in my head for Sora. I hadn't seen him in years, of course. Mostly all I could remember were the really unforgettable parts about him and all the wild stuff we'd gotten into as kids…the trouble we'd been in. I could remember the rush of energy and excitement you got from just being around him, because exciting stuff always happened around Riku. Kidnapping the neighbors cat. Racing through yards screaming obscene songs we'd learned from the middle schoolers. Playing tricks on a bunch of kids we'd gone to school with. Two ragtag kids, running around like mad and having gales of fun with permanent grass stains on their knees…that was us.

"He's…interesting," I said and froze. Wait. Hang on. This was a great chance to try to make Sora jealous. Or at least see if it was in his capacity to be jealous over me. Ignoring my Inner Smart Person who was calling me ten kinds of idiot, I smiled dreamily and said, "He's got this long, soft silver hair that shimmers when he walks—"

"Silver?"

"Yup," I said, and without missing a beat went on, "—and it compliments his turquoise eyes, and they're the exact color of the sea-."

"SILVER?!"

I sighed an gave up. My Inner Smart Person smirked and mouthed, "I told you so."


She's STILL here? How can that be possible? She's been here for, like, two hours! Isn't she supposed to be at school?

Don't get me wrong, Kairi's fine. She's cool, I guess. She doesn't mind getting dirty (though not in her "cute" clothes), she doesn't get woozy at the sight of blood, and she has no qualms about getting violent with me or my brother.

She also has no qualms about getting violent with my brother in bed. The thought of Sora and Kairi as a them always made me want to hurl. And then break something, if I was pissed enough. Like now.

"Kairi!" I yelled, pounding on Sora's door. "Stop thinking nasty thoughts about Sora so I can come in!"

I heard Kairi sigh, Sora choke and then laugh. Then the door opened and one small hand reached out for me. I saw little chocobos running around my head. Yup, no qualms about violence.

"Morning Roxas," she said in her sugariest voice. "You must be feeling better."

The room slowly spun to a halt. "Eh?" I said. I could feel the bump forming where she'd smacked me.

"If you're being an ass, then you must be in a better mood." Kairi smirked, pushing the door open wider. I came in and sat slumped against Sora's desk, nudging aside the junk on the floor to make room to sit. Kairi sat herself on the bed and began examining her blue-painted fingernails.

"Hey, you're not under the bed anymore," Sora said cheerfully. He smiled brightly at me. "That's good."

"Sure," I said scornfully, picking at my black and white checkerboard wrist cuff. "Except Tifa locked me out of my room and told me to help you pack." That bitch.

"Huh," Sora said, eyes sweeping the floor. "Uh, I guess you can put stuff in boxes. Or help Naminé. I think she needs help—"

"There is no way," I informed him, "that I am going to help Naminé. She's sulking in her room 'cause she doesn't wanna go to Hollow Bastard."

She also doesn't want to leave her little girlfriend, I thought to myself, but I didn't say that. Kairi wasn't supposed to know.

"Oh," Kairi said confused, if the way her forehead creased was any indication. "But I thought she'd be glad to leave. Naminé hates it here."

Sora and I exchanged looks. We both knew it was impossible for Naminé to hate being where Kairi was.

"Whatever," I said, then hit my forehead with my palm. "Oh, I forgot, Kairi, your mom called. She wants you back at school."

"Really?" Major disappointment on her face. I cackled on the inside. "Damn. I didn't even hear the phone ring."

Well, yeah, there's a reason for that…

"You must've been too busy thinking about sticking your tongue down Sora's throat," I said cheerfully and probably truthfully.

Kairi threw the lamp from Sora's nightstand at me. She forgot about the cord, so the lamp hit the floor and not me. I laughed at her embarrassment and at Sora's preteen-girl-blush. Inwardly I was embarrassed for him. The thought of girls as girls in the sink and left it there to cement. When he kissed his first girl, he got his lip caught in her braces. If that's not a bad omen, I don't know what is.

"Gaytard," she snapped. She only calls me that when she can't think of anything else to throw at me. Insults, I mean, not objects. I'm sure she can find plenty of things to throw at me that can be find plenty of things to throw at me that can be found on the physical plane of being.

And gaytard isn't even a very creative nor insulting insult. Being gay has exactly zero impact on me. None. I only figured it out about a month before my life blew up in my face, and after that I was in no way okay to have a relationship. I'm still not okay enough, but chocobos will grow fur before I admit that to Kairi.

Plus, you can tell Kairi doesn't really mean it when she calls me gaytard. She doesn't care if I'm straight or not. As long as Sora's operating as planned, she's happy.

Still, I sighed with relief when she left to go back to school. I'm more relaxed when we didn't have other people in the house. Normally I could deal with Kairi hanging out, but today I felt too pissed off to want to put up with more than the bare minimum. Sora knew that, and I knew that was why he hadn't said that he hadn't heard Kairi's mom call either.

We did hear the front door slam as Kairi left, and then I had Sora's eyes on me. He was watching me carefully, guarded, emotionless. It was the same look Tifa and Naminé give me when they're scared and don't want to provoke me with their fear. Sora used it when he was worried about me, which made me glad; I hated being pitied. And not having to see the pity makes it easier to talk to him.

"What?" I asked, even though I knew what.

"I know you don't want to move, but don't take it out on Kai," he said carefully, keeping eye contact (another thing they're supposed to do when talking me to prevent provocation). "She doesn't want any of us to leave. Even you."

Sure. She'll only miss her she-wishes boy-toy. Not Naminé, who's been in love with her since she laid eyes on the Kairi, and sure as hell not me, the screwed up slitter.

I told him that. He reddened again. "Don't say stuff like that," Sora scolded. I'd annoyed him now. "We're just friends."

I laughed at his obliviousness. Nam was right, he was clueless when it came to people who liked him. And Mom, also. "Dude, she wants to jump you so bad her knees bend when you come into the room."

His eyes twitched. His lips puckered. God, this was too funny. He just did not know how to deal with stuff like this. Times like this make me wonder just how straight Sora is.

"Whatever," was all he managed to come up with. That, and, "Go away."

I took him literally and went to my dad's place. He looked awful. His foot was in a brace and he looked more tired than I'd seen him in a long time. He was happy to see me, though.

"Hey, Rox," he said when I came in the door, giving me a quiet smile. "How's life treating you?"

"I'm moving," I said sourly, and that explained everything. He grimaced as I threw myself onto the sofa next to him and carefully avoided the spot where an awry spring sometimes could pop free and stick you in the leg.

"Sora already told you why," he guessed. He stared at me balefully. "I'm sorry, Rox."

I folded my arms and scowled down at the threadbare carpet. "Whatever," I mumbled. "It's fine. It's all Tifa's fault, anyway. She's the one all set to leave."

Dad shrugged, then leaned over to scratch his bum foot. I eyed it. "How'd that happen? Your foot?"

He laughed. "Yuffie dropped her fridge on my foot."

Figures she'd be the reason. That she-dog was the cause of at least a third of the traumas I'd experienced in my fifteen-year-long life. "Her fridge. She dropped a fridge on you."

"Yeah." He rolled his eyes. "She wanted me to move it. And we were lifting it when she suddenly decided she needed a Diet Pepsi and dropped the fridge to go get one."

"So how'd it end up on your foot?"

"She poked me with her shuriken. I let go of the fridge to defend myself."

Ouch. So it was her fault. My fist clenched. I'd kill her.

"Roxas, let it go. This was bound to happen."

I glanced at my dad. He was giving me that get-over-your-bad-self look he's been giving me lately whenever I get mad over something he thinks if trivial. Cloud is seriously of the opinion that regretting the past will get you nowhere. That's probably why living in the same town as Mom has no effect on him emotionally whatsoever, unlike Tifa, who has a bitch fit whenever she sees him in a public place.

I'm more like my mom. Stuff that happened earlier always bugs me later. Naminé says I just have trouble letting go.

Sure, thanks for that, Dr. Phil.

She's probably got a point though, because Diz, my old shrink, had said the same thing. Huh.

"Whatever," I said, relaxing my hand.

Cloud sighed and punched me lightly in the shoulder. "C'mon," he said wearily, "you're sandbagging. What're you thinking."

He never says this like a question. It's more like an order, coming from him. I shrugged, fiddled with my wristband.

"Roxas."

I made the mistake of looking into his eyes. Damn. I saw all his concern and his stubbornness and faltered, my own defenses breaking.

"I just—I don't want to leave. You. That's all," I mumbled, looking away again. "Alright? I'll hate not seeing you all the time. I—"

I need you.

I couldn't say it. I never can say stuff like that. I love you, I'll miss you, I was worried about you. I can't say it to anyone. I've tried to say those kinds of things to Naminé, to Sora, but my throat closes and my head goes blank. Then my chest starts to ache. Those are the times when I can actually believe I have a heart. The rest of the time, I can't feel it.

Dad put a warm hand on my shoulder. He smiled.

"I know," he said.


So there's your yuri and straight pairings. I haven't read a straight pairing in ages, so I had to go and read some to remind myself...if I had a boyfriend, I'd just use him, but I don't have one...sob...Anyway, hope you liked it. Please review on your way out. Thanx!