Alright, guys, let's try this again, eh? This is a re-write of my previous story, also entitled Belonging. If you read this before, some things have changed. Not many, but enough that it would be worthwhile to go back and re-read it, especially considering that I last updated it three years ago. This story's my playground, so expect some drama, some sadness, and some really corny attempts at humor.

Let me just go ahead and disclaim anything that's not mine for the remainder of the story, so we can get this thing going.

Rewrite notes: A few grammatical changes, nothing too drastic



Riku and Sora.

They just were. They belonged together, like the shore and the ocean, the sun and the moon– hell, like peanut butter and jelly. And no one ever thought it should – thought it could – be different. From the moment Riku moved in next door and Sora delivered the traditional "Welcome to the neighborhood" cake (such a sweet and wide-eyed little six year old, proudly grinning to show off the gap where one of his front teeth used to be), fate was set. Riku, already used to getting what he wanted, had immediately claimed that the smaller boy was his new, official "bestest" friend, and what could Sora do but agree? He'd never been a "bestest" friend before, after all.

As the years passed, it was rare, if even possible, to find one boy without the other.

In the cootie-less society of seventh graders, Riku was a prize for girls everywhere; they followed him around incessantly, sighing over his dreamy silver hair and beautiful aqua eyes, leaving notes and messages begging for anything from a phone number to a marriage proposal. But Riku didn't even see them; Sora was the center of his universe, and no one, minus the heartbroken girls, of course, gave it a second thought. After all, that was how it was supposed to be.

So junior high went, and high school came, and finally, after countless not-so-subtle hints from family and friends and one very eventful homecoming dance, finally they were really, truly together, as they were meant to be, and they loved each other so very much that no one cared if they were both boys – this was Riku and Sora.

And they belonged together.

Roxas was Sora's baby brother by thirteen minutes. He had been a surprise, tiny and hidden behind Sora throughout the pregnancy, but the doctors had insisted he was healthy, if a bit paler than his brother. The twins' mother, dosed up on more pain meds than she could name, had quickly improvised the name Roxas – X-Sora, the blond would occasionally think.

Despite the supposed implications of the name, Roxas never felt unloved or neglected by his family. In fact, Roxas had been content with being Sora's quiet shadow until Riku happened. Quite suddenly, quiet little six year old Roxas, with the observant blue eyes and shy smile, realized that he had to share his brother with this almost-stranger who had all-but taken his place with one toothy smirk and two words: Be mine.

Was Roxas jealous? Hell yeah. Even now, ten years later, he was still prone to sulking fits of envy that his twin led such a charmed life, from fantastic personality to ridiculously devoted boyfriend. Roxas, on the other hand, worked hard for what he got, be it good grades or good friends. It was nearly two years after Riku moved in before the blond managed to find his own set of friends to hang out with, and, outside of a disastrous week-long experiment with Olette, Roxas had never even been in a relationship, much less experienced the deep love his brother and Riku shared.

But Roxas grew out of his brother's shadow and blossomed into a stubborn, quiet, and generally kindhearted teenager. Sure, he had his pet peeves, and he tended to prefer seclusion over inclusion most days, but not much could really make him angry, or upset, or even truly elated, because in a desperate attempt to create some distinction between himself and his twin, Roxas had constructed a fine, sturdy wall, behind which he firmly kept any unnecessary emotions locked away,.

That, of course, was before Axel.