Archive of Our Own

Summer of [XXXX]. Rocket was seven, Sword had just turned nine. The former had just gotten new prosthetics fitted and was feeling them out, taking a long walk down the pier with his friend.

“I fucked up the warehouse last time I was there, my dad was showing me some new tricks.” He gloated, “He says I should only use them to defend myself, but they’re too fun to not wanna do all the time.”

“That sounds pretty dangerous…” Sword had her hands cupped at her stomach, her voice coming out small.

“So? Inphernals are doing crazy shit all the time. A few blown up alleys don't matter.”

“Mmhm…”

“Anyways, my dad showed me how to jump stupid high! I almost got on the roof of one of the buildings with it, but it made my leg hurt, so he made me stop. He’s so boring when he shows me something cool and then doesn’t let me do it.”

“…”

“Can you even hear me?” He stopped in front of her. Even a young kid like him could tell when she was acting unusual.

“Huh—? Oh!” She perked up, “Sorry, I was thinking about my birthday dinner… I saw my aunt for the first time in a few years.”

“Ugh, Windforce.” Rocket groaned, “When I was in Playground she was so—”

“Not Windforce.” Sword interrupted, clutching her arm, “Um… Rocket, do you think I could ever be a boy?”

“Huh?”

“When I saw Illumina, he was… She was a girl now.” She started slowly, “And I asked my dad and he said that inphernals do that sometimes. He said if someone would be happier as a girl or as a boy, they can be one.” Then, she pointed at herself, “Would I make a good boy?”

“Hm…” The rocketeer didn’t seem to question it at all, “You’re kind of a dork, but I guess guys can be dorks too. And if you were a guy, that’d make us both dudes!” He suddenly perked up, “We’d be the cool dude duo! But I’d be the cooler one.”

“We would? We can be?” A smile crossed Sword’s face, “My dad said I can start wearing boy clothes and he’d call me his son but I should wait until puberty to be sure.”

“Bleh, puberty.” He stuck his tongue out, “I’m a boy and I haven’t hit puberty yet, so why can’t you?”

“I dunno, something about inphernals being more different when they hit puberty.” The red inphernal stepped up to him, “You really think we can be a cool dude duo?”

“You could be cooler than you are now, but yeah.” He grinned, “First one to the end of the pier is the coolest dude!” And immediately started to sprint away.

“Hey— that's not fair!” Sword’s face flushed, “Rooockeeet!” He started after the other inphernal, already far behind.

And from Rocket’s perspective, that was that. Sword was a boy now. He had reached the age when his style was coming in and he had more agency over his wardrobe, so he did start wearing more boyish clothes, and his father easily entertained the change— at the price of his training getting harder, to make sure he was really sure about it. But the young swordsman didn't falter, proving himself at every corner. He also looked much happier when the rocketeer saw him.

Rocket briefly considered the idea of not being a boy anymore, but he realized it just didn’t fit him. He didn’t know many except for Sword being one before, but he knew they were soft and cute, or dainty and elegant, unless they were Windforce, but he wasn’t any of that. He was tough, and cool, and mean! And not Windforce!

So Rocket couldn’t be a girl.

~~~~~~

Rocket was thirteen, Sword was fifteen. They were walking alone through the Crossroads mall.

“What do you think is in the food court?” The swordsman asked, holding a bag on his shoulder.

“Dunno, but I want cheese fries.” The rocketeer had his own bags by his sides, “I forget if it was here or not, but there’s somewhere that has damn good jalapeño cheese fries.”

Sword shuddered, “I don't know how you can eat that stuff, it’s so… Spicy!”

“Hey, don’t be a wimp!” He lightly smacked the other’s chest, “Peppers are good, you’re just a pussy.”

“Hey— careful!” He shied back a little, “You might look weird hitting me on the chest like that.”

“Chest schmest, I used to beat you up all the time and it didn’t matter.”

“I know, but the people around here don’t know that we’re cool guys!” They both stopped for a moment, and Sword checked his watch, “You still need to get a haircut while we’re here, don’t you?”

“We can do that after lunch. It's not like I can’t cut it at home if we forget.”

The swordsman chuckled quietly, “Remember the first time you cut your own hair?”

“Hey!” His face flushed, “I’m older now, I can’t fuck it up that badl—Y?!”

A sound vaguely similar to a bomb going off sounded from the store beside them, alongside the sound of a party horn, “What the—” They both looked inside,

And immediately got a blast full of confetti and streamers.

“Sorry, lil dudes!” A feminine voice came from the store, footsteps coming up to them.

“What the hell, man?!” Rocket was quick to brush them out of his face and off of his hair, “What kind of—” He turned to the store, then stopped.

The woman that walked up to them had side-swept hair that was shaved on the opposite side and down the back, her horns twisting back and looping under itself. She was wearing a cropped hoodie and jeans, a mellow expression on her face, and a cannon-like weapon in her hand, “Didn’t mean to catch any customers with that, here.” She brushed Sword’s head, helping him clear it off.

He shook his head, “What was that?” And brushed it off of his sleeves, shaking himself out.

“Gear-testing, we’re a party store.” She put her weapon over her shoulder, “I’m Confetti Cannon.”

Rocket stared blankly at her, looking mostly at her hairstyle and face, “You’re a rocketeer?”

“More of a cannoneer, but yeah.” She flicked her gear away, watching Sword kneel down to pick some of the streamers up, “You boys don’t worry about this mess, it’s my bad.” She got down to his level, “Go on with your day.”

He passed her a handful of streamers, “Are you sure we can’t help? This is an awful lot of confetti.”

“I couldn’t make two teenagers pick up my mess.” She scoffed, “Plus, your little buddy here looks dazed. Better get him out of here.”

“Eh—?!” Rocket realized he was being addressed, “No, I’m— I’m an explosive gear too!” He tried to look big, getting down, “I’m Rocket Launcher, I clean up my own mess a lot of the time.”

“Oh yeah?” Confetti raised an eyebrow at him, “Who taught you your tricks?”

“My dad. He’s got a bazooka, but he doesn’t use it anymore if he isn’t showing me anything.”

“Bazooka? Like, Blackrock’s old ambassador?”

“You heard of him?”

“Everyone who knows anyone with an explosive gear has heard of him.” She stood up, pulling a bag out of her pocket and tossing the confetti into it, “You must be a cool kid with a dad like that, I’m jealous.”

“You look really cool too!” He blurted out, “I like your hair.”

“Wow, thanks. You looking to shave your head?” She joked.

“No— not… Really.” He shied back, trying to imagine himself with a style like hers. His face flushed, “Let’s go get lunch, Sword.” He grabbed the other’s wrist.

“Huh?” He looked surprised by the sudden change, “Oh, okay! Bye, miss!”

“Have a good day.” The two were already walking away from the storefront.

“She was nice.” Sword turned to his friend.

“She looked really cool!” Rocket glanced back, then focused forward, “Do you think I could ever have a style like hers?”

“Hm…” The other stared at his face, trying to imagine it, “It’d look cool, but you’d also look a bit like a girl.”

“No, I’d just look cool,” He huffed, “She looked like a girl cuz she is a girl.”

“She looked cool and like a girl!” Sword pointed out, “There’s probably a girlish and a guyish way to be cool. You’re the guyish way, she’s a girlish way.”

“Yeah!” He nodded, “That’s gotta be it. Can we get lunch now?”

“Oh, yeah.”

The day passed by. Rocket forgot about Confetti Cannon, and the cool girlish style, and the cool-looking clothes. What reason would he have to think about it? He had his own style already, the cool, tough guy style.

He also forgot about his haircut.

“The good scissors are the black pair.” His father told him as he stood by the bathroom door.

“I know, I know.” Rocket huffed, stepping in. He grabbed the brush and smoothed out his hair, which was mostly straight with a little bit of wave, watching himself with no real thought or intent. He opened up a drawer to get the scissors, ‘I wonder what I’d look like with that hair.’ And a thought crossed his mind.

He stopped and looked back up at the mirror. There was no way he could pull off shaving his head on his own, but he could pull it to the side. Grabbing the brush again, he started to brush his hair so that it fell over to one side, “…Ugh.” And immediately, it looked a bit weird on him. Shaking his head, it straightened out, so he tried again, “Oh, come on.” It still didn't look right. It didn’t look like hers.

“Hell are you doing in there?” Zuka called over.

“Nothing.” He groaned, straightening it out again and putting the brush down. Clearly, the style just wouldn’t fit for him. His hair was too short, or… Something, even now that it hit his shoulders. It didn’t work. Grabbing the scissors, he finally settled for cutting his hair.

Maybe he was too young. Maybe it was the shape of his face. As locks of hair fell as they were chopped off, he found himself glaring at the mirror, stuck thinking about it. That style was really cool, but maybe it was just… A girlish cool. It wouldn’t work for him.

~~~~~~

Rocket was fourteen, Sword was fifteen. Again, it was summer, with the latter’s birthday not yet coming.

“You two get changed, we’re leaving in five minutes.” Zuka closed Rocket’s bedroom door, walking downstairs.

“Okay!” Sword acknowledged, turning to his friend, “Do you think I should get changed in the bathroom instead?”

“Huh?” He was already taking his shirt off, “We’ve always gotten changed together on pool days.”

“I know, I just...” The swordsman clutched his chest, “I have boobs now, I don't want it to be weird.”

“I don’t care, dude! I’ll look the other way!” He fully turned to face the wall, “We’re going swimming anyway.”

“I just didn't want you to feel awkward!” Sword started to undress himself.

“Its not awkward, we’ve known each other for years.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure!” Rocket pulled on his swim trunks, “Just tell me when I can turn around.”

He heard an amused chuckle, and the squeaking of a rash guard top, “Alright, I’m done.” He looked over, “Do you think I look weird now?”

“Uh…” The outline of Sword’s chest was visible through it, but it was thick enough that he wasn’t exposed, “Nah, you’re fine.” He reached for his own top, “I’ll wear one too if it’ll make you feel better.”

“You don’t have to!” Despite that, he still pulled it on, “Oh… Now it’s just more obvious.” The swordsman’s expression seemed to dull.

Rocket glanced between the two of them. It was noticable how flat his chest was compared to the other’s, “…” His breath caught in his throat when he looked down at himself. Something was wrong. Something was missing. A deep pit sank in his stomach, but he couldn’t place why.

“Rocket?”

“Whah—” He straightened up, “Yeah— yeah, you’re right, sorry.” And he pulled the rash guard off, trying to shake the feeling, but seeing his own bare chest only made it worse.

“Um— uh, I’m sorry,” Sword looked away, “Maybe we shouldn’t go swimming today.” They had very similar expressions on their faces.

Insecurity. Displeasure at their own exposed bodies.

Rocket suddenly found himself thinking the same, “Yeah, thats okay.” He kneeled down to get his regular shirt, “Do you think we should just go to the pier instead?” He saw both of their clothes in a pile on the floor, looking just in time to see the swordsman scoop up two well-fitting sports bras. He wondered what he’d look like in one. Sword, not him— no, wait. Both would be weird. Why did he wonder that?

“The pier sounds good.” He took his top off, laying both bras over each other, giving his chest an almost flat look.

There was a knock at the door, “Are you two ready?”

“No.” Rocket called to his dad, “Can we go to the pier instead of the pool today?”

“The pier?” He questioned, “Its gonna be hot.”

“We know!” Sword said, “I just don’t… Want to go swimming anymore.”

Somehow, Zuka seemed to get it, “Alright. You two can go to the pier on your own, then.” And he turned away from the door, heading back downstairs.

“…” The rocketeer fell silent for a few moments, “…Must be hard.” Then muttered.

“Hm?”

“Being— uh.” He wasn’t sure how to say it, “Being trans.” He chose to go for the flat-out way.

“…Uh,” The red-horned inphernal stared at him for a moment, “Yeah… Yeah, it can be.” He averted his eyes, “I have it easy, though.”

“Easy?” Rocket’s eyebrows furrowed, “You can’t even go swimming.”

“Socially, I mean.” He tried to smile gracefully, “I’ve been a boy to everyone since I was so young, nobody’s questioned my gender in a while, so… I don’t deal with anyone looking weirdly at me. I’ve always been a boy to them. I guess that means I got lucky.”

“…” He was right. Even while going through puberty, Sword’s appearance never leaned feminine, in body or in style. On first impressions, he was androgynous, and his introductions and charisma only handed him to being more masculine. Mouth hovering open for a second, “…Hmph.” He wondered how easy it'd be for him to not look like a boy. He didn't have a chubby face like his best friend, his features had only been getting sharper as he grew up.

“Hey, Rocket?”

“Eh—?” He snapped out of it, what the hell was he thinking? “What’s up?”

Sword looked a little confused himself, partially concerned, “Um… Nothing, I just,” He picked up his bag, pulling it over his shoulder, “You’ve never asked me about being trans before.”

“Hey, in my defense, I’ve never seen you being so… Effected by it.” Rocket motioned vaguely, “You’re all sunshine and rainbows or something.”

“Hmh,” He laughed softly, “You were one of the people who made it the easiest, Rocket. Out of all people, things with you changed the least.” A pure smile crossed his face, “I guess it's because you've always roughed me up whether you thought I was a boy or not, hah!”

“You’re easy to throw around.” Walking over to the door, “Can we go to the pier already?”

“Alright,” He got up to his side, “Cool guys duo for life?” And stuck his pinkie out.

“…” A feeling of almost… Nausea washed over Rocket. He tried to laugh it off, “What, a pinkie promise?”

“C’mon!” Sword ushered, “You said yourself that you’d always be the cooler guy, and cool guys keep promises!”

He did say that. “Alright, fine.” Putting his pinkie out, “Cool guys duo for life.”

His best friend beamed back at him. It was so simple, but so affirming.

They would always be two cool, tough guys.

~~~~~~

Only a few months passed. Sword turned sixteen. It was now early autumn.

“I’ll pick up our drinks!” He said, happily ducking into a cafe.

“Don’t get too confused.” Medkit had been monitoring the two of them that day, both on Venomshank’s request, and because they had the time to.

“I won’t!”

“…” Rocket found himself staring at their older friend more than usual that day. He always beat them around a bit, teasing them for being older, but something felt different that time. Like there was something that he had never noticed before, but it was always there. He cleared his throat,

“Hm?” And got their attention,

“Medkit, are you gay?” He asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“…What,” Their face flushed a little, “Why are you asking me that?”

“Because you have the voice and the face of a woman but no tits.”

“Rocket—” Medkit paled in embarrassment, grabbing his shoulder, “You can’t just say that, pipe down.”

“But it’s true!” He barked, “Sword covers his up but you’ve gone to the pool with us before and you just don’t have any.”

They grunted, glaring at him, “You have no filter, do you, kid?”

“No.”

They let out a frustrated sigh, “You’re asking if I’m transgender, not if I’m gay.”

“Are you?”

“Technically, yes, I count as transgender, I'm non-binary, can you—”

“What’s that?”

“It’s being neither male nor female, now drop it.”

“…” Rocket stared up at his older friend, eyebrows furrowed, “What’s it like being born a girl? Do you hate your body?”

Medkit sighed harshly. They shouldn’t have expected him to have shut up, “My childhood was nothing like any usual “girl”’s, and no.”

“Why does Sword call you his brother?”

“Because he wanted to call me that.”

“Why doesn’t he call you his sister?”

“I don’t know, he started it himself.”

“Who started what?” The doors to the cafe swung open, Sword coming out with three drinks, immediately holding one out to Medkit.

“Why don’t you call Medkit your sister?” Rocket asked, getting a groan from the older inphernal.

“Huh—?” He paused for a moment, “Do you want me to call you my sister?” He looked over at them.

“Brother is fine.”

“You told me you aren’t a guy or a girl.” He looked almost offended at the idea of them being called that.

“I don’t care what anyone calls me.”

The swordsman looked between the two of them, “Are you two talking about… Gender?”

“Rocket wants to know what it's like to be born a girl, apparently.” They took a sip of their coffee.

“I didn’t say that!”

“Why would Medkit know what it’s like to be a girl?”

“Because he’s—” Rocket stopped himself, looking between the two, “…Ugh.” He crossed his arms, shying back.

“I haven’t been a girl in years, you know.” Medkit nudged him, “Sword hasn’t either. The only people who can tell you what that’s like are women, trans or not.”

“But I don’t know any!” He yelled, “Everyone I’ve known, you’re not a girl, Sword’s not, my dad isn’t, that weirdo who comes by all the time isn’t, the only woman I know of is that dictator Windforce!” ‘And I’m nothing like her!’ The thought tagged into his mind, but no words came out.

He didn’t have time to think about it, only flinching slightly, “Why do you want to know so bad, Rocket?” Sword’s eyes were wide with concern, “I’ve never seen you like this before.”

“…” He wasn’t like Windforce. That was true. It’s not like he was a girl at all— “Nevermind.” He huffed out, “It was a stupid question anyway. Can we go back now?”

“You want to go back?” Medkit’s eyebrows furrowed, “We’ve barely gotten anywhere yet.”

“I don’t care! I want to go home!” What was going on in his head? He felt scrambled. Confused. Being around Sword and Medkit was making him angry. He couldn’t tell why. It only made him more upset, “I can call my dad if you two want to keep bullshitting around.”

“…Fine. Call your dad.” They allowed, “But I’m watching until he gets you. I'm not getting in trouble with the law for leaving a fourteen year old alone.”

“Buzz off!” He snarled, getting his phone out, immediately starting a text.

“You:

come get me i’m in front of the captain cafe”

“Rocket?”

He immediately shot Sword a glare.

Regardless, he held a cup out, “You still have a drink.”

“…” He didn’t want to snap at his best friend. He didn't want to yell at Medkit. Did he even truly want to leave? There was still an aching in his stomach as he took the drink, “Thanks.” And a ding on his phone.

“dad:

aren’t you still with medkit and sword?”

A groan formed in his throat,

“You:

i don’t want to be out here anymore

i want to be home”

‘Please don’t ask why.’

He’d lack an answer.

“dad:

alright. stay there”

“He’s coming.” Rocket lowered his phone, “You two can f—” He turned, facing Sword’s wide eyes and worried look, and Medkit’s suppressed frown. His voice caught, “…I can wait alone.”

“Still not getting in trouble.” The latter repeated.

‘Piss off.’ His face scrunched, but in all his stubbornness, he looked down and kicked at the cement. The awkward silence that followed stretched on for only a few minutes but felt like a few hours, he was able to feel their stares on his back, their concern. It wasn’t right.

He had no reason to be upset.

~~~~~~

“When was the last time you cut your hair, kid?”

“Um—” Rocket realized that he truly was overdue for one. He felt at one of his front-most locks of hair, not curly nor fully straight in texture, “Like… Before July.”

“Your hair’s never been this long before.” Zuka pointed out, and indeed, it went just past his shoulders, “New style, or just slacking?”

“Hey—!” His father had already turned away, “I just didn’t think it was that important!”

“It’s your hair, you’re fifteen, do what you want with it.” He shrugged, “I just thought you liked it short.”

“…” Rocket felt an odd sinking in his chest, “Ugh!” And he snapped away, stomping up the stairs.

The last thing he heard was a very faint sigh, “Teenagers…” And a mutter.

‘I’m not just some stupid teenager.’ He thought, reaching the second floor, ‘I’m not a slacker either.’ Shoving the bathroom door out of the way, he was confident that he’d prove himself. He’d cut his hair back to his usual length and keep it that way.

He reached the mirror. His hair flowed over his shoulders. His shirt was loose-fitting and gave his torso no shape. If it weren’t for his face, he’d look almost like…

“…” He reached for his bangs. Gently pulling at and positioning them, he tried to frame his face with them, covering the harder parts of his jaw. He watched the mirror as he did, not a single thought in his mind, like doing that was so natural it was his autopilot for his whole life.

And at one point, in the middle of the movement through his hands and his hair, if just for a second,

He could almost imagine it was a girl staring back at him.

“—!” A gasp came out, startled, Rocket’s hair falling from his hands. Immediately, he pushed it back, pulling it all out of the way of his face. There he was again, sharp and boyish in features. He was seeing things, a trick of the light.

…But nobody would question him if he was to wear his hair like that. It’d just be a new style. Things were changing, he could be different for once. He’d seen other inphernals wearing their hair like that. Mostly Thievians… And mostly older Thievian women… But it was a style.

“…” There was a lump in his throat. It felt like he was about to start choking. Even if he went for it, it wasn’t his style, he’d already established that.

Tough and cool. Those were his words. And there was nothing tough or cool about bangs that framed his face to hide his tough features.

“…This is stupid.” He told to the him in the mirror, reaching for the drawer, “This is so—” He grabbed the scissors and a bundle of the length of his hair, “STUPID!” The first cut was taken. It was too late to turn back. His breath seemed to still, but shakily, he continued, cutting through the bundle of hair. It fell between his fingers. Eventually, the whole handful fell from his head.

He couldn't think. Staring, he was all cut on one half, and still past his shoulder on the other. It was a lopsided look that almost… He pulled that side of his hair to the front, brushing it with his hands. It wasn’t silky, it was rough, his fingers barely got through. He hadn't been taking care of it as he should've for hair that long. But stroking it was comforting anyway.

He had to cut it. He’d look stupid if he didn’t. But that comfort… Was so odd. So different. The scissors were still in his hand, but so was his hair.

…Could Rocket stay there, with a feeling so nice, for just a little longer?

“Dinner’s ready.” Zuka called from downstairs.

He snapped out of it, dropping his hair, “Gimme a minute!” Turning back to the mirror, he held it to cut it, “What is it?”

“Bread and pasta.”

“Blegh.” He groaned, taking the first cut, ‘He knows I hate tomato sauce.’ He thought, ignoring the sinking feeling in his chest. He’d rather think about the dinner that he disliked than what he was feeling. What he was thinking further back in his head.

The girl he saw in the mirror for just a second.

~~~~~~

Within a few months of being fifteen, Rocket hit a noticable growth spurt after being a slow bloomer. He grew from 5’1” to 5’6” in a few weeks, and not to mention lost a considerable amount of weight. That meant quite a few things, but mostly, he needed new clothes.

That's how he ended up back at the mall completely alone. He wasn’t sure what Sword was doing that day, but he didn't ask. Part of him wanted to shop alone. Something about the idea of clothes shopping was different that time.

Stopped in front of the window display of the big, generic clothing shop, he thought about what he wanted. The warm season was starting. He needed short sleeves, maybe tanks. Did he want graphic tees? Only ones that didn’t have anime girls and shit on them. Did he need a new swimsuit?

…

No. He didn’t think he’d be swimming that summer.

The window display had a few items of both masculine, feminine, and ambiguous styles. A classic button-up and cargo shorts combo, lightweight pants and a low-cut tank top, and a sweet sundress. It was simple but stylish, with just a bit of lace and frills and small straps. It was paired with sandals and a wide brimmed sun hat. He could imagine someone with long, brown hair in it, flowing in the wind by the ocean.

He felt that same pit in his stomach. He had brown hair. He remembered the way he looked in the mirror. His hair had grown down to his chin again, but he doubted he’d ever let it get as far as that night. Not to mention, he would never wear a dress.

…But, maybe—

‘That’s it!’ He suddenly perked up, letting out a gasp, ‘I can be like those guys who wear a dress because it means they’re more of a man after wearing one!’ There it was. He wasn’t a girl, he was just having a fragile masculinity moment! If he saw himself in a dress and still knew he was a guy after, then he'd be able to stop thinking about it. It was perfect. Turning and walking into the store, he figured he may as well get it over with. He could do that in a changing room, after all.

There was one problem.

He had no idea where the women’s section was.

“Hiii, how can I help you today?”

He realized he was lingering in front of a service desk. He looked over to the inphernal running the desk, “Uh, yeah,” It occurred to Rocket how much he didn’t want to be seen there, “Where’s the… Girl’s section?”

“Are you looking for adult or youth?”

“Um—” He gulped. He was pretty sure he’d be wearing adult sizes now, “Adults. Adult women.”

“Adult women’s section is over there.” They pointed, and he immediately hurried off, hearing a faint “Have a good day!”

‘This is so fucking embarrassing— I can’t go to the dressing room with nothing but a DRESS they’ll know it’s for me.’ What would he do? If someone saw him just carrying a dress, they’d think it was a gift. Or at least, they probably would. He gave off boy energy. Probably. He sure didn't give off dress energy.

Before he knew it, he’d reached the women’s section. Keeping his head low, he looked around the racks and aisles. How many adult women actually only wore blouses and cropped tops? They had two entirely different energies. Blouses were… Dressy, and a bit stuck-up, and crop tops were cool.

'Maybe I should wear a crop top.’ He thought, ‘No— what the fuck. Dress is enough.’ Maybe being in that section was making him lose it.

“Ooh, isn’t this one cool?”

“It’s really your style.”

He heard voices from the next aisle over. Out of curiosity, and the chance that it'd be dresses, he took a peek over.

There was an inphernal with short, scruffy hair and a round face. They were holding a black dress with belts, a tight waist, and studs along the seams. They were smiling, “Right? I’d be so badass in this.” They turned it over, looking at the front, “If only the cups were bigger.”

“Finally, representation for punk bitches with no boobs.” The other inphernal laughed, “Come on, they might have a bigger size over here.” Putting the dress back on the rack, the two walked away.

“…” That dress glowed, and not just because of the studs. Coming out from the aisle he was standing behind, he walked up to where the two were, taking the dress down from the rack. He held it in front of him. The torso would fit him well, his waist lined up, and the skirt would go down to his knees. As pointed out, the dress didn’t even really have cups at all.

The dress wasn’t too fluttery. It wasn’t too cute. It wasn’t elegant. It wasn’t particularly beautiful. But it was so, so cool, and the studs gave it a tougher look as well. Rocket liked that dress.

‘…I can be a guy who likes dresses. They exist.’ He told himself, looking on it for a price tag, ‘I didn't know dresses came in punk, though.’ It was twenty bux. He’d been sent off with a hundred and fifty for a good amount of clothes… Surely, it wouldn’t be too strange if twenty bux seemed like they simply disappeared. He’d say it was food or something.

Wait— no, what was he doing?

He wouldn’t buy a dress. He was just going to try it on, reaffirm that he was a boy just wearing a dress, and then give it to the staff to wash or something. He had no reason to buy it, it wasn’t like he’d wear it again. Folding it over his arm, he went to find the changing room.

When he reached the area, he remembered something. There were quite a few inphernals there. He still did not want to be seen going in to try a dress, and so he stepped back, ‘I’ll just… Try it on with the rest of my clothes once I’m done shopping.’ And scurried away from the women’s section. He’d also forgotten to get a bag, so he figured he’d grab one, bury the dress at the bottom, and try it all on at the end.

What Rocket forgot to consider was how little he cared for trying on clothes in the first place.

“That’ll be one hundred and sixteen bux.”

“Jeez.” Getting out his wallet, ‘I guess it is a whole summer’s change of clothes.’ Taking out paper bux, he passed it over. Plain tees and tanks tended to be cheap, and so did the basketball shorts he favored, so he supposed it did add up.

“Alright, thank you.” The cashier fiddled with the register for a moment, then went to put the clothes back in the bag, “That’ll be… Oh, oopsie.” Suddenly, they stopped, “I think I missed something.”

“Huh?” They pulled a long, black garment from the bag, “—!!” And his face turned bright red. He’d completely forgotten to try it on and put it back.

“This really is a beautiful dress.” The cashier chuckled, scanning it, “Is it a gift, or for you?”

‘I’M SO FUCKED.’ “Uh— it’s—” He spluttered. He couldn’t just say he didn’t want to buy it now, “Yeah— yeah, a gift. For my…” He could only imagine one person he knew liking that style, “My… Dad.” He stiffened up, “It’s for my dad.” ‘I'm cooked I sound stupid they know its for me fuck fuck why would I say my—’

“You must have one cool dad.” They put it back in the bag, “Okay, that’ll be twenty more bux, I’m so sorry for the inconvenience.”

“You’re— fine, it’s all good,” He choked out, pulling out another twenty. Taking the bag, he looked into it, ‘I own a fucking dress now. Where the hell am I supposed to put it?’

“All done, would you like a receipt?” He hastily shook his head, “Have a good day.” With shoulders as tense as a board, he walked out of the shop. With a slow, uneasy stride, he walked up to the nearest seating area.

Putting the bag down, he gently pulled the dress out. Unfurling it, he held it in front of him, ‘Fuck… It’s still a cool piece, at least.’ The area was unpopulated enough that it wasn’t super busy, but also crowded enough that he didn’t stand out. Turning it over, “Oh shit.” It had a graphic in smaller studs on the back, of a sharply stylized skull. Now, it was a REALLY cool piece. Almost like something he’d genuinely wear.

Maybe the girl in the mirror would like it.

“…Ugh.” He lowered it, shaking his head. His hair wasn’t long anymore, and he didn’t look like a girl at all. He would prove that to himself. He looked down to fold it up, ignoring that his organic hand was shaking, and ignoring the way his nose got stuffy. He wasn’t going to cry. There was nothing to cry about.

“Rocket?”

“—!” He shoved his fist into the bag, sloppily stuffing the dress down. He whipped around. He didn’t stand out… Except to someone that knew him.

“I didn't know you’d be here today!”

‘Why does it always have to be you, Sword?’ Rocket’s eyebrows furrowed, “Heeeey… I didn’t know you’d be here either.” He clutched the bag, putting on a smile. His sinuses still tickled a little.

“Yeah, I needed to stop by the bathworks shop.” Sword smiled back, “Wooow, I’m really not used to you being this tall.”

“How do you think I feel?” Somehow, the other’s presence always made him a little relaxed, “My old clothes don’t fit me anymore, came here to get new summer stuff.”

“You've really grown that much?”

He held his organic arm up, flexing, “I’m turning into a big… Man.” He wasn’t sure why his throat caught, “Gonna be taller than you soon.”

“Heeey, as if!” The swordsman put his hands on his hips, “My dad isn’t so tall just for me to stop at five-seven!”

“And my dad isn’t either!” He laughed, “Hell are you doing going to a bathworks shop, anyway?”

“We need new hoof moisturizer for the summer.” He kicked his leg up, balancing with ease. Hooved inphernals didn't particularly wear shoes, and it was pretty obvious, “And, I like their candles!”

“Cow, also ew, also dork.”

Sword sighed, putting his leg down with a clop, “Your new clothes look good, at least.” He pointed out, “I didn't know you were into studs.”

“Huh—?” He glanced at his bag. The dress was poking out slightly, and a lump formed in his throat. Out of all people, his best friend couldn't know. He shoved it down, “Huh— heh, hah, yeah— yeah, it—” Crossing the handles of the bag, he covered it tightly, “Yeah, they’re— they’re just cool and tough, I figured I’d look cool in…” The other’s stare had already turned very worried. He took one step aside, “Them.” Run. “Okaybye—”

“What—” He had already bolted in the other direction, “Rocket!” His best friend called after him, but it was already too late. He was not just running, he was fleeing, shoving past people like his life depended on it. He disappeared into the crowd.

“…” Sword blinked at the crowd, face turning pale. He looked down at the ground, “He didn’t want to go swimming, he didn’t want to be with Medkit and I when we went downtown, and now he’s running with his new clothes… Oh, no, its just what I thought!” He gasped, “Rocket’s having body issues! I knew he was insecure about his prosthetics, I should’ve known he'd feel worse as he’s getting older… Hmph!” He confidently made a fist, “I'll just have to show him extra support!”

He was promptly met with a few stares from the people around him.

“…Eheh. Sorry.” He backed off, turning and walking away, “…But how can I support him?”

~~~~~~

Rocket’s stomach was churning. He didn’t know why. He was sweating from running. His heart beat out of his chest. His organic foot ached from its hard hits to the ground and his mechanical leg was straining on his thigh. He clutched the bag tightly to his chest, nobody could see into it, but he couldn’t lose it. He wanted to be alone, to hide within the walls of his room, where nobody could see what he had now.

He had run desperately out of the mall, blindly through the parking lot and back to the streets. He felt the stares of people, wondering what could make a kid run so fearfully down the street, but nobody stopped him. He didn’t want to talk.

And before he knew it, “Haauh—” He had reached the pier, leaning onto a fence post. Nausea overcame him, sweat caking his skin and clothes, as he finally stopped. The pier had barely anyone around, it was too cloudy out to enjoy the ocean air. He choked and panted, heaving dryly to breathe.

‘I have to stop it,’ He told himself, trying to catch his breath, ‘I’m being stupid and dramatic.’ He pushed himself to stand on his own two feet, a dizzy sensation filling his head. He forced himself to stay up, looking around. It wouldn’t be long before he’d have to call his dad to pick him up, and the pier was a good spot.

One thing stood out to him… The pier’s own changing hut, made for those who wanted to change into swimsuits then go down to the beach. He hadn’t used it in a very long time, despite having used it a million times over when he was much younger. Both him and Sword used to adore that pier.

‘I can put the dress on.’ Rocket was teased by the thought, ‘I can put the dress on and then throw it away, or leave it there…’ Lost clothes were ever so common there. Unsteadily walking, his hold on the bag turned his knuckles white, making his way silently to the changing hut.

It hadn’t changed at all since he was kid. Slipping behind a curtain, he threw the bag onto the bench, glancing at the mirror. He was still red and sticky all over, his short hair clinging to his head and face. Letting out a harsh sigh, he opened up the bag. The dress was still sitting on the very top.

He turned away from the mirror, facing the wall. He took off his top. Looking the dress over, there was a zipper on the back— it was made for stepping into. The metal was cold.

‘I don’t need to wear this.’ It was not a need, but something else, ‘I don’t have to prove that I’m a guy.’ So what was Rocket proving? That he was stubborn?

The dress unzipped smoothly, fresh and never worn. His shorts stayed easily out of the way, clinging to his body. He stepped in. He pulled it up. It had no sleeves, riding on his shoulders. Despite the small cup size, it was still clear that it had cups. It wasn’t made for him. He felt the skirt flowing on his uncovered knees.

I want to look.

‘I can just take it off.’ His body felt cold, arm crossed over his chest. It was loose.

I have to see.

That was the point. He’d look in the mirror and know he was still a guy. It'd confirm that for him. No dress could change that.

The girl in the mirror could be there.

He looked over his shoulder, just barely turning enough to see himself. His hair covered part of his jaw. His eyes were softened. With his arms crossed in front of him, his shoulders looked small.

Once again, there was the figure of a girl in the mirror, just with short hair this time.

“—!” As easily as he flinched the first time he saw her, he turned around, defensive like someone was actually there. His arms tensed by his sides. His hair fell away from the sides of his face. His heart lurched, ‘I look stupid.’ The dress was loose and hung at his chest, it was unbearably obvious. His shoulders were broad and unflattering. He had a face like his dad’s, with strong features, but a bit sharper.

He looked like an idiot wearing a dress. Some asshole making a mockery of it because it didn’t fit him at all.

Where’s the girl I saw?

Rocket’s breath shook, “No—” He hiccuped, “I can’t—”

I know who she is.

“I can’t be—” He grabbed at the length of the dress, scruffing it up, “Not like this—” His sinuses ached, a small tear forming in the corner of his eye. He didn't want that. It couldn't be real.

It was always me. I was always the only one there.

Rocket fought back at the zipper, trying to take it down, a tear falling down, “Please—” The metal was hard to hold onto. The vision of the girl at the ocean, with the brown hair and the flowing dress, came back.

With blurry vision, Rocket’s eyes opened up, barely able to see through the tears. There was a figure there, in a dress, with brown hair, reaching desperately for her back.

I want to be that girl.

With a gasp for air, Rocket let go, tears pouring down. There it was. There was no way to deny it. Falling down, leaning against the mirror… “I’m so stupid—” Coughing, “Fuck—” It was the answer.

In that stuffy, cramped changing hut, the boy who ran was crying. The girl in the mirror cried too, they stared at each other with blurry eyes. For the first time, they could both tell which one they truly were.

“He said if someone would be happier as a girl or as a boy, they can be one.” Sword’s father had told him that eight years ago, and now, Rocket felt it too.

If she could be that girl, maybe she’d be the happiest girl in the world.

“I’m so stupid—” She continued to tell herself, looking in the mirror. Her vision hadn’t cleared yet. For a while longer, she’d be able to imagine herself as the girl on the pier. Her body shook as she cried, “I don't wanna be sweet, I don’t wanna be cute, I wanna be me,” Would Rocket still be Rocket if she was a girl? What did it even mean to be a girl? It wasn’t like she knew any.

When Sword became a boy, all that happened was he got more comfortable, but he was too young to have had much to change from. Was Rocket too late to be a girl? Did everything about her have to change now? She liked the way she was before. She was tough and cool and destructive and liked using her gear like some maniac. It was freeing. What was a girl who did all those things? Would that be her?

Did someone who realized what they were as late as she had have to change who they were before for it?

Could she still be a girl if she didn’t change anything else?

Her vision was starting to clear, eyes straining as she turned more towards the mirror. In that position, the cups of the dress really did hang empty. It made her chest ache, ‘If I was a girl, I would have tits by now.’ Crossing her arm over her chest, her stomach only sank further. Was that how Sword had been feeling all those years over the way he did have them?

Something occurred to her. Something sickening.

“…Sword’s had tits for years now and he’s still a boy, and now I think having them would make me a girl.” She mumbled to the mirror, a feeling of guilt coming over her. He had everything she wanted and was still a boy. He was so comfortable being a boy because of the reassurance she gave him that they’d be a duo of guys forever.

I can’t take that away from him.

Rocket’s breath hitched. What she wanted to be a girl was exactly what everyone told Sword didn't make him one. If that was what could make her a girl, would she be taking him being a boy away?

He can’t know.

“…” She stared into the mirror as the realization set in. The two of them wouldn’t be able to be happy at the same time, would they? They clashed. He couldn’t be a boy with a soft face and breasts if she wanted to be a girl with those features.

Rocket sucked in a deep breath, “Alright.” Fighting the tears away, getting up, “Fine.” Reaching back for the zipper, “…It’ll be our secret.”

He turned his back to the girl in the mirror, taking the dress off and tossing it aside. He put his original shirt back on. He picked up the bag and took one more look in the mirror.

She was still there. She looked petrified, red in the face and with wide eyes. Her eyes downed to an almost subdued look. There was nothing else she could do.

Stepping out of the changing hut, Rocket ignored her. Maybe she’d go away. Maybe she was just a phase.

He didn’t have to be so selfish as to let her ruin what he had.

~~~~~~

It was destroying him.

Rocket couldn't look in the mirror anymore. He hated dressing himself. He hated showering more than he already did with two limbs missing. He hated her. He’d started clipping his hair back down before it could even reach past his neck, anything to avoid resembling her. He didn’t want to see her again.

But it was like being haunted. He didn’t have to have long hair. He didn't have to be wearing the dress. He didn’t have to do anything at all. He'd see his reflection and she’d be there, staring back at him, like an optical illusion that you couldn’t see one side of anymore. There was no longer a boy. There was no longer Rocket. There was only the girl with subdued, lost eyes.

She was trapped. Nobody knew she was there except for him, and he was keeping her locked in his reflection. He could never become her again. With nobody who knew of her, there was nobody who could reach out.

Rocket was in bed. It was late. Too late. He was twisting and turning, everything felt uncomfortable, from his freshly cut hair to the scars on his lost limbs. His phone sat next to him, barely not falling off of his bed. He was doing his best to not pick it up again.

“Ding!”

“Eh?” He growled quietly, turning over, ‘Who the fuck is texting at… One in the morning?’ He turned it on, wincing at the bright light on his slightly raw and dry eyes.

“None Sword Left Beef:

Do you wanna come over tomorrow?”

It had been a few days since Rocket had seen Sword. The last thing he’d done with him was run away at the mall. He felt a wave of embarrassment,

“You:

for what”

It was weird of him to message so suddenly, and so late. Sword had a very proper sleep schedule thanks to Venomshank, so the rocketeer could hardly imagine it getting disturbed.

And yet,

“None Sword Left Beef:

I miss you”

He was replying as quick as a bee. Rocket’s expression scrunched,

“You:

so are we gonna do something orrr

None Sword Left Beef:

We can play video games if you bring those consoles you have over

You:

ok sure. when

None Sword Left Beef:

Whenever works for you!

You:

you're such a dork

noon then

None Sword Left Beef:

Great!

Go to bed

You:

???you go to bed first asshole”

Silencing his phone, Rocket let it slip from his hand, falling barely a few inches from his mattress to the floor. He’d be playing games with Sword tomorrow, he supposed. But for just a moment, very faintly, he saw his reflection in the black screen.

Sword couldn’t meet the girl. He was hoping to leave her home.

When dawn dawned, and the morning flew by, Rocket was packing up a home console and two controllers. His best friend had a TV at the very least, even if it was an old one. He hovered over his belongings for a moment, “…Daaaad!” Then looked over to the stairwell, “Do we still have that old HDMI to AV adapter?”

“It’s in the box of cables in the closet.” The reply came quickly from below, “You’re going to Sword’s?”

“Yeah.” Picking up his bag, he walked over to the closet. When opened it up, “Gh—” There was a small, dusty old mirror on one of the shelves. He flinched from the sudden face in front of him, then quickly shook it off, bending down to pull out a box of cables. Grabbing a box-shaped adapter and its respective cords, he got up, “…” And spared the mirror a glance.

“…” The girl looked back at him, angry and scowling.

“…Stay in the closet then, bitch.” Stuffing the cords into his bag, he shut the doors, turning to head down the stairs.

When he reached the bottom, “Be back by five.” Zuka was on the couch next to the phone, flipping through a book.

“Mmhm.” He didn’t hesitate, but did look over when he reached the door, “Is that weird, fat pig calling you again?”

“Rocket.” He immediately received a glare, “I know you don’t like him, but you know better than to say that about someone.”

“Pllft!” Sticking his tongue out, “It’s not mean if it’s true, that Broker guy is a weirdo, and he’s fat, and he’s a literal pig.”

“Rocket.” Zuka sat up straighter, “That’s enough, or you’re staying home. You’ve been being way too huffy lately.”

“…” Face scrunching, “Bye, dad.” Getting the last word in wasn't worth losing the chance to see Sword. Stepping out of the door, he resisted the urge to slam it behind him, heading down the hall to the elevator.

Reaching the ground floor, “Eh?”

Sword was standing in the apartment building’s lobby, bouncing on his hooves. When the rocketeer stepped out of the elevator, he beamed, “Rocket!” And skipped over.

“Hey— woah—” To his surprise, the taller inphernal threw his arms over his shoulders, “Hey—! Watch the bag, watch the bag!” Almost toppling both of them in the process.

“Oop—!” The swordsman was quick to straighten them out, “Sorry, it’s just been a while since we hung out.”

“I’ve been busy.” He huffed out, walking over to the exit door, “School is kicking my ass.”

“Do you need help?” Sword followed behind him, “Whatever you're doing, I’m sure I’ve done already!”

“Your dad has you doing that weird curriculum that goes in the weird order. Plus, tutoring calls already come with the program I do…” Rolling his eyes, “The tutor’s a bitch.”

“Oh.” The other’s face dampened a little.

“Yeah, they get upset if I’m not watching what they're doing all the time.” Leaving the apartment building, they turned down the alleyways, “I’m focusing! I just focus by looking everywhere else.”

“Really?”

“…No, but they have a stupid face and I don’t want to look at them.” Rocket turned to face him, “Dude— you’re like, stepping on my foot, back off.”

“Ah— oh, sorry,” Sword had very noticably been clinging to him, “I’m just excited!” He smiled bashfully.

“Excited like a dog, yeah…” He mumbled, “I grabbed Danish Man Racing, Nuclear War II, and Jump-Jump for our games, I gotta get better ones for two players.”

“Ooh, they sound fun, though.”

“You’d find any game fun.” He stuck his nose up, “But these ones are pretty good. I like Nuclear War.”

“I’m gonna guess it’s a war game…”

He grinned, “Yeah, and it’s got blood, guts, and guns.” He watched the other’s face sour, “What, scared of a little video game gore?”

“No!” Sword shook his head, “I just don’t think my dad will like it if he finds us playing it.”

“I’ll turn off the TV, big deal. It’ll save so long as the console doesn’t turn off.” Something occurred to Rocket, “Aren’t you like, seventeen? Why does he care?”

“I’ll be seventeen in a couple months, yeah, but my dad has always been antsy about me, you know that.” He put on a smile, “And I appreciate him protecting and mentoring me! I don't really like blood and gore either.”

“Bleh. You’re such a pussy.” Rolling his eyes, “I bet he covers your eyes when you walk by the magazine stands in stores.”

“He does not—!” Sword squeaked, “…I try not to look at them anyway, though.”

“Duuude.” Holding in a laugh, Rocket nudged him, “You can’t even look at them? They’re just inphernals in swimsuits.”

“But they're obviously for adults!” The swordsman blushed, both flustered and embarrassed, “You shouldn’t be looking at them either!”

“Who said I look at them? I give them one glance when we’re walking by and then I move on. But also,” He grinned, “When my dad gave me the talk about sex, he told me it’s totally natural to start finding those things hot once you’re a teenager.”

“Rocket—!” He knew he was only letting the other win by getting embarrassed, but he couldn’t help it, “My dad said that I should leave impure thoughts for when I’m an adult, and I can repent for them properly.”

“..?” He raised an eyebrow, “Yeah, okay, whatever that means, it’s not what my dad said. I think my dad is more right than yours.”

“But I like to listen to my dad, so maybe we're both right?” Sword looked away, “Can we stop talking about that now—? We’re almost at my place.”

“Yeah, yeah, we can.” Rocket rolled his eyes, then paused, “…Do you like girls, though?”

“Huh?” Somehow, that was more odd than the last topic, “What do you mean?”

“I dunno, you’ve been trans this whole time, but maybe you’re gay too or something.”

“Um… I don't know, actually.” He shrugged, “I’ve never liked anybody?”

“Will you marry a girl someday?”

“..?” Rocket looked oddly somber when he said that, “Are you gonna marry a girl someday, Rocket?”

“Uh—” He didn't know why he said that. He felt like he was trying to get a point across, but he said it wrong, “I dunno, maybe. My dad is gay, so it’s not like it'd be a big deal if I was.”

“You could be bi! I think that’s what it’s called when you like guys and girls and everything else. Hm,” Sword looked up, “Maybe that’s what I am.”

“Bi… Yeah, whatever.” They arrived at an outwardly abandoned building, “I bet your dad would throw a hissy fit if he heard us talking about romance, yeah?”

“I’m not sure, I’ve never really talked to him about it…” Walking up to the front doors, “What game should we play first?” He let them inside, heading right for the stairs.

“I don't really care.” Rocket stayed close behind him, “You’re the one who called me over, you pick.”

“I like the sound of beating you in a race.” He smiled half-confidently, letting them into his room. When they entered, a bird promptly cawed at him, “Oh— it’s Sisyphus’s lunch time, hold on!”

The rocketeer watched as the other hurried back down the stairs, “I’ll plug the console in.” And walked up to the TV, getting down in front of the black screen. Opening the bag up, he kept his eyes away from the screen, avoiding his reflection in it. Pulling the console out and untangling its wires, he plugged it in, and turned it on.

…The TV was taking a moment to show the picture, or the console was taking a moment to boot up.

“…” He held in a grumble, forced to stare at the screen. He could see the girl, ever so faintly, ‘At least Sword can’t tell it’s her.’ He reached for his hair, ruffling it, then looking back. There was just a scruffier girl now. Glancing down, “Oh.” He’d forgotten to turn the TV on.

“Okaaay, Sisyphus, here it is!” Sword’s loud entrance to the room broke him out of his grumpy moment. The crow flew over to his owner’s son, waiting for the plate to be put on the windowsill.

“Whats he eat, anyway?” Rocket asked, pulling himself together and connecting the controllers to the console.

“Crows will eat just about anything, so we usually give him corn and feeder bugs or mice!” He turned away as the bird started to eat, coming up to the TV, “He eats on the windowsill ‘cause he’ll make a big mess otherwise.”

“Feeder bugs?”

“Bugs and mice bred just for feeding pets. I think it’s usually done for snakes and lizards though.”

“Damn, that’s surprisingly hardcore. Sisyphus is a hardcore little dude.” Turning the console on, “Does he just rip them apart?”

“Probably? It was my dad who watched him eat.” Sword rifled through the bag, picking out the game, “You gotta be there when you feed animals new stuff in case they reject it, he ended up throwing up when we tried introducing hazelnuts to his diet.”

Rocket leaned back, looking around while the console loaded up, “Did you try any other nuts?” It had been a while since he’d been in the other’s bedroom for longer than a moment, “Snrk—”

“No, we gave up after that.” The swordsman peered over, “What’s funny?”

“You still have labels on all your drawers?” He jeered, pointing with his thumb. The dresser was all labeled, from t-shirts to long-sleeved to bras and underwear and pants. He felt like he’d seen it like that before.

“Hey—!” His face flushed, “I know where my clothes are, it’s just not the kind of thing you think to take off!”

“You do it when you know where they are, you dope. Nobody needs to know where you keep your underwear.”

“Nobody really comes into my room, you know!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rocket turned his nose up, “Still makes you a dope.”

I wonder what I’d look like in a bra.

Sword huffed, “At least my room is clean.”

‘What—’

I could stuff it with tissues or something, and put a shirt on over it, and it’d look real.

‘I can’t do that, I don’t even own a bra. I’d look stupid,’

You can always try to shove one in the bag when he leaves the room.

“…”

He won't notice if it’s just one missing.

“Rocket?”

“Wha— no, what? Nothing.” Rocket snapped out of it, turning to the TV and grabbing his controller, “I was thinking about— clothes.”

“…” Sword had a look of concern on his face, “I haven’t seen you in your new clothes yet, did you get anything good from the mall?” But tried to hide it, putting on a smile.

‘HOW DOES HE KNOW ABOUT THE— oh, right, I got actual shirts and stuff too,’ “Nah, just a lot of regular shirts and shorts.” He shrugged, “I got one that says ‘salty bitch’ and I wanna wear it but I’ll probably have to cover it up at work.”

“Are you the salty one?”

“Maybe.” ‘Bitch is supposed to be feminine, isn’t it? Does he know that? Should I have said that?’

“Mh.” He just hummed in response, turning to the screen, “The game is ready,” He looked down at his controller, “I think I could beat you!”

“Hey— no way!” Holding tightly onto his controller, “You barely even play games without me.”

“But I’m a quick learner!”

“Not quick enough to beat me.” Putting on a grin, “Better hurry and start racing before you fall behind!”

“He-ey!”

Able to distract himself with the game and his best friend, Rocket tried to let everything slip his mind. Sword was right about being a quick learner, able to get a hold of the tricks the other was pulling off after a few rounds, but his lack of experience held him back anyway. Admittedly, there were a couple times where the rocketeer was anxious of a loss.

And then,

“Sword!”

The two heard heavy doors opening from the front of the warehouse, “Oh— coming, dad!” And Sword put his controller down, popping up, “I’ll ask to be quick since you’re over, he might just need my help bringing stuff in.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it,” Rocket shrugged, “I’ll switch the game out.”

“Alright.” Quickly leaving his room, the other heard his footsteps hurrying down the stairs.

“…” And then he glanced at the dresser, ‘It would be really fucking creepy to steal a bra of all things.’

But I’m not stealing it for creepy reasons. I just want to know what I’d look like.

‘But it’s still wrong, Sword’s my best friend.’ He popped the disc out of the console, putting it back into its case, ‘Would he even get it if he found out?’

He’s trans too, so maybe.

Shaking his head, he grabbed the next game, “Not too, dipshit.” Mumbling, he put it in, ‘I bet being trans never made him steal anyone’s underwear.’

Then again, Sword doesn’t talk about his dysphoria or being trans. Not with me.

“…” He turned back to the dresser now that the game was on.

I don’t have much time.

He stayed firmly sat in place.

Can I take it now or would it risk him catching me?

‘I don't need to take it at all.’ Closing his eyes, his heart was pounding in his chest, ‘The dress was already far enough, I don’t need to do anything else.’ Turning down, he tried to stare at the floor, stifling his thoughts. He looked down at his body and his clothes.

It was nauseating. Something was missing. It only made the thoughts worse, more devastating,

I just want one look.

Getting up,

Just one chance to see who I’d be.

Walking up to the dresser,

Would I be happy to see that girl again?

Lingering for a moment, his hand hovered in front of him.

I just want to be happy.

I just want to be that girl.

“This is so,” Opening the drawer, he closed his eyes, picking at random, “So fucked to do to Sword.” He cursed himself, closing it back up and scurrying back to the TV. He stuffed it into his deep pocket, burying it with his phone, ‘I’ll be so fucked if he finds out.’

Rocket could never say anything.

Not that he stole a bra.

Not that he owned a dress now.

Not that he wanted to be a girl.

He’d return it after one look and then never, ever look at that girl again. She was taking so much out of him.

“…” Sword still hadn’t come back. With a heart still beating out of his chest, Rocket tried to steady his breathing, which had grown choppy in the moment. He felt like he was sweating, ‘I’m such a fucking loser.’ It was in his pocket now. He would probably get away with it.

Looking over his shoulder, his eyes landed on Sisyphus. The crow sat on the windowsill, staring at him, holding no notable expression. His stomach churned, “Don’t tell Sword.” But he only got the same stare back.

There were heavy hoofsteps up the stairs, and he snapped upright, grabbing his controller, “Sorry about that!” Sword swung the door open, “I was right, he needed me to bring groceries in.”

“That’s fine, it’s whatever.” Rocket could feel the stiffness in his own voice, “Old man can’t bring them in himself?”

"It’d be rude if I didn’t help him!” He sat down, “Which one are we playing now?”

“Jump-jump.”

“Oh, I remember this one.” The swordsman gave his friend a glance, “Are you okay?”

“Huhwhuh— yeah.” HE’S ONTO ME— “Yeah, I’m fine,” With a shrug, he stayed staring the TV.

“Mh… Are you sure?” Sword leaned over, “You look kinda red.”

“Red—?” He cleared his throat, “I’m fine… Or, yeah, you know what?” Then felt at his neck, “My throat’s kinda itchy. And I feel kinda stuffy,” He faked a sniffle.

“Oh— oh, no, you might be allergic to something,” The other looked away, “My dad and I just brought in a lot of groceries, I wonder… —!” He gasped, “Do you react to nuts at all?!”

“Nuts—?” Rocket was not allergic to peanuts or tree nuts, “Shit— yeah, man, just being near nuts gets me a little sickly.”

“Oh no, I just snuck a couple hazelnuts from the groceries!” He had no idea how he was getting away with that, “Now it’s on my hands, and my breath… You’re not terribly allergic, are you?”

“Dude, I get like… Achey and tired and sneezy. It’s worse if I actually eat one.” He scratched his face, “Maybe I should go home, we’ve got medicine just for this.”

“Gee, I’m sorry, Rocket.” Sword’s guilty face made him feel guiltier about what he’d done, “I’ll help get everything packed—”

“No—” He flinched, scaring them both, “No, you— you’ll just get nut hands on my stuff.” Quickly unplugging his controller, “You hold onto that controller, I’ll get it next time.” He shoved it into his bag, getting up.

“Right! Still, I’m sorry,” Standing up to join him, “We could’ve played for so much longer…”

“Eh, it’s fine. You didn’t know.” Rocket unplugged the console and packed it up, “We’ll hang out again later, ‘kay? I just gotta take some meds and sleep it off.” He faked another sniffle.

"Will you be able to get home on your own?”

"Duh, it’s a five minute walk. I’ll be fine.” He pushed by, “Seeya.”

"Mmhm… Bye, Rocket!”

There it was.

He was out.

~~~~~~

Rocket didn’t even mention faking sick to his father. He slipped in, unpacked his console, shoved the bra under his mattress, and hid away until dinner time.

Dinner came.

Dinner went.

Bedtime came.

Bedtime went.

Hours slogged by. It felt impossible to distract himself. He had to be absolutely sure Zuka was asleep before he did anything. He rolled over and over in his bed, not able to sleep, but not able to find anything to occupy him on his phone.

And then, it was midnight. He stared at the time as it ticked up. He felt on edge, twitchy. Exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep. He had to satisfy her hold on him first.

Shoving off his blanket and rolling off of his mattress, he lifted it up, ‘Fuck.’ And reached over, ‘I really stole someone’s bra, fuck.’ It was a simple white sports bra.

Please.

Getting up, he went over to his window. Pulling the curtain, he felt his stomach churn. He hadn’t thrown away the dress, returned it, or left it at the changing hut. He kept it, and bunched it up in the apartment window, which faced only an alleyway and brick wall.

He swiped it from the windowsill, then turned and rushed away, ‘Just get it over with.’ The bathroom was right next to his bedroom. He shut the door and turned on the light.

There he was.

Rocket, the stupid, gross teenage boy, with a dress and bra stuck in one hand.

Putting them down on the counter, he took his shirt off, tossed his pants away, and stared. Flat-chest. Sharp face. Square shoulders. Missing an arm, a leg… And something else.

I can have it, just this once.

He took a quick look at the bra. It would be a little big on him, but that didn’t matter. He pulled it on, ‘Please don’t be there,’ And kept his eyes shut tight the whole way, ‘Please go away.’ Until it was on, and he had to look.

…He looked like an idiot. That piece had no place on him. It was a mockery for him to have it on.

He felt sick.

Stuff it.

He couldn’t even deny her that. Stealing the toilet paper roll from its holder, he ripped and bunched strip after strip, pushing a small amount into the front of the bra. What would he look like had he been born a girl? Would he be shorter? Chubbier?

Happier?

He took another look at the mirror. He still looked stupid. All he’d done was stick paper to his chest. Grabbing the shirt he was lounging in, he threw it back on, then looked.

Oh my god.

'Oh my god.’ No long hair. No dress. No round face, small features, sweet voice. But with that bra on, stuffed, and covered to look real, ‘It’s me.’ Rocket felt at it, and it was obviously fake. But with no hands to feel, it looked real.

She looked real.

But she wasn’t done.

The girl at the pier, with the dress flowing in the wind, still wasn’t there.

Taking the shirt off, she grabbed the dress, desperately unzipping it. Stepping in, she pulled it up, secured it on, and looked again. She was still there. She turned the bathroom light off and left, going back to her room. She’d need her leg if she was going to get anywhere fast.

Rocket didn’t think she’d ever put it on so fast. In a moment it was tight and fastened, and she hurried out of her room. She’d learned long ago that the quietest way down the stairs was on the banister, and the skirt didn't get in her way as she hopped on, slid down, and scurried off.

She butted through the front door.

The girl in the dress, standing on the pier, with long, brown hair. It all flowed in the wind.

She bolted down the empty street.

The girl’s hair was shorter than when Rocket first imagined it.

There was not a single person to see her in the moonlight.

Was she always missing an arm?

The air smelled like saltwater.

Did she always have a prosthetic leg?

Her shoe hit the wooden planks.

Wasn’t it originally a sundress?

She ran to the end of the pier,

It doesn’t matter anymore.

A cold wind blew over the waterfront as Rocket stopped at the very end, her hand resting on the fence. Even if her hair wasn’t very long, the very tips still flowed. Her bangs fell in her face. The dress fluttered on her knees. Looking out at the moon and the sea, she could imagine how she looked from behind.

She was alone. It was like a weight lifted off her shoulders. She’d done it. She made it.

She was the same girl who looked back at her in the mirror. Betrayed, trapped, scared, shameful, and so, so happy. There were tears pouring down her face, but the soft smile didn’t leave. There was no boy anymore. There was no angry face and scowling eyes.

There was only Rocket.

'It’s too late for me to be out here.’ Her lips trembled, ‘I have to go home.’ And tears of joy felt cold in the wind, ‘Sword won't know, and dad won’t know.’ Even if she knew who she was now, how could she ever tell anyone else? Her reasons for hiding it still applied. Rocket knew she was a girl, but would anyone else?

And would she still be a girl without the dress? Without the shoddily stuffed bra? It was the one thing that could prove it to herself, it was what she wanted, but she knew she wasn’t feminine. She didn’t want to wear dresses for more than just a treat, she liked her shorts and sarcastic shirts and cool casual outfits. She liked her snarky attitude and tough demeanor and the way she was like a little version of her dad. She didn’t want to be feminine. She wanted to be a girl.

She crossed her arm under her chest, “Well.” Her voice annoyed her, she turned around, “Fuck it.” She would never be that boy again, not to herself, she couldn’t hide it anymore, “It was fun while it lasted.”

If Rocket couldn’t take being a boy, maybe she could take being a girl in secret.

~~~~~~

So how could Rocket be herself while hiding it?

She let her hair grow out for the next while. She trimmed it once it went past her shoulders, but left it sitting right above them. The hairstyle she really wanted was one she could not cut on her own, and a creeping anxiety made her not want to go to a barber or hairdresser.

"Done having short hair?” Zuka asked once it got long enough.

"Yeah.” Was all she replied with, shrugging it off. She had never cared about her hair, or really her appearance in general, and it would certainly be weird to her friends and family if she went out of her way to get it done at a stylist’s.

Sword was none the wiser, but she felt a pang of guilt every time she saw him. She couldn’t imagine what it'd be like if he knew that she was a girl. That she thought it made her a girl to have all the things he hated.

It was summer now. She had no desire to go swimming, but visiting the pier was weirdly… Cathartic now. It had always been a place her and Sword loved, they liked the salty air and the sound of the water, but it was different to her now. Like she was weightless when she went there. Free.

Rocket was cooped in her room, bra and dress still not returned and hidden on her windowsill, when an unexpected visit happened.

There was a friendly knock on the door, “Who’s it?” Zuka asked from the kitchen.

"Sword!” He called back.

Walking over, the veteran opened up the door, “Hey. Does Rocket know you’re here?”

The swordsman shook his head, “Nope, but I wanted to see him. Is he home?”

"He’s stuffed up in his room like usual.” Zuka went back to the kitchen, “Drag him out if you can, it’s a good day out.”

"I will!” Sword took a few steps to the stairs, but looked over at what the older man was doing, “What are you making?”

"Almond bars.” He answered shortly.

"Almonds—?” His eyes widened, “Isn’t Rocket super allergic to nuts?”

"…No?” Zuka looked over his shoulder, “We have almonds all the time, he loves nuts. Who told you that?”

Sword blinked, “He… He did. He was sniffling and coughing after I had hazelnuts around him!”

"He had hazelnut chocolate a couple nights ago.” The veteran’s eyebrows furrowed, “He’s never been allergic to nuts.”

His mouth hung slightly open for a long moment, “Whuh…” Glancing at the ground, “Okay… Thank you, Zuka.” He turned around, heading for the stairs.

Had Sword done something wrong? He couldn't remember much about that day, it’d been a while, but he supposed his friend was acting strange. Was it his fault?

There was no further response as he walked up, “Rocket?” And went right up to his friend’s door.

"Sword? What are you doing here?” There was the slight pattering of bedding.

He opened the door up, “I wanted to see you.” And looking over, Rocket had no prosthetics on, laying upside-down with her leg up on the wall.

"You could’ve texted me first.” She rolled her eyes, making no effort to get out of that pose, “And why do you look like that? Did something happen with your dad?”

Sword hadn't realized that his face was in a slight frown, “You’re not allergic to nuts.”

"…Duh?” Her eyebrows furrowed, “Did I say I was?”

"Yeah—!” He was surprised by her apathy, “You said you were really allergic, you even left my house early because you were!”

"…Oh.” She realized what day he was talking about, “Oh,” The day she’d stolen something intimate from him, “I mean… Hey, I really was sniffling and shit.” She lied again, rolling over and sitting up, “I wasn’t sure you’d believe me if I said I was just allergic to pollen or something.”

He pouted, “Of course I’d believe it, you were so red that day!” When she didn’t respond, he went on, “I’ve been avoiding eating nuts before I see you because of it… Jeez, Rocket.”

"Sooooorry.” She shrugged, “Do you wanna do something while you’re here?”

He sighed, “Yeah… It’s a good day out!” He stood firmly, “We can go to the boardwalk.”

"…” She stared at him, then glanced at the window, “Nah. I don’t wanna go out.”

Pouting, “Games again, then?”

"Hey, don’t come over if you're just gonna judge me.”

"I’m not!” His face flushed, “I like playing games with you!”

"I’ll get my ZBox then.” Scooting over to her closet, “I subscribed to some free games program, I bet there’s something we’ve never played on here.” She stayed sat on her mattress, opening the doors up and looking through.

"Mmhm.” He walked over to the wall, “But we should at least open the window, it’s still a good day!”

"Uh-huh.” She shrugged him off, but, “Wait,” Window. “Wait, don’t—” She whipped around,

Sword had already pulled the curtain, “—!” And found a candle, a dry soda can… And sitting on top of a bunched up black shirt or something, his sports bra.

Good job, Rocket.

You really fucked it up this time.

"…I—” She squeaked, “I can— explain!” She scurried to turn around and kneel, struggling to get up to her foot, “It was for you, I— no, wait—” That’d still be weird.

"This is mine.”

"…” She felt her face go cold.

Sword looked back at her, and her heart sank. He looked horrified, and mad, because he’d just come to realize something.

Rocket hadn’t been acting out and being weird and moping because he was insecure about his body.

Rocket had been acting out and being weird and moping because he was a creep!

"Rocket,” His voice picked up, “When did you take this?!”

"Wait—” She squeaked again, “I can explain, really—!”

"No!” He walked up to her, standing over her, “What reason could you possibly have to steal one of my bras of all things?! Even you should know that it’s creepy!”

"But I wasn’t— I didn’t steal it for—” Spluttering pathetically, “I didn’t steal it for creepy reasons—!”

"Then why?!”

"I wanted—!” She couldn’t admit to it, “I—I—” It was now or never. She could tell him why, or she could let him think she was a creep forever— and she was certain he would never talk to her again if he thought the latter.

He huffed at her, “I can’t believe you!” Putting a hand over his chest, “We’ve been friends since we were five and now you’re creeping on me?!”

"I’m not—” Now or never, “I took it so I could wear it!”

"…” She wasn't sure if that helped her case. His eyebrows furrowed at her, “What?”

"I wanted—” Rocket gasped in a breath, “I wanted to see— I had to see what I’d look like with tits, okay?!” She grabbed at her shoulder, “I’m sorry for hiding it from you, I’m sorry for stealing from you, but I couldn’t— keep— going without knowing!”

"What?” His eyes widened further, “I— what are you talking about?!” He still wasn't getting it. When she looked at his face, she saw a boy filled with nothing but confusion.

She wondered if he could look at her face and see a girl.

"I’m—” She looked past him at the windowsill, “I— I got a dress from the mall and everything, it’s there too,” Her voice quivered with every word, “I saw myself as a girl when I wore it, and I saw myself as a girl without it when I had long hair, I just—” She hiccuped, “I needed one more thing to prove it, that I wasn’t just being stupid, that I really wanted to see myself as a girl all the time.”

His wide gaze hung for a second, then softened slightly, “You’re…”

"…” She looked down, “If I was stupid, I’d say I was like you. But even if we’re both trans,” Her head hung low, “You’re more of a guy than I could ever be a girl. I didn’t even want to try being one, but you can't deny all the stupid shit I’ve done to prove it.”

"…You can be a girl, Rocket.” He got down on his knee, “Why couldn’t you be?” And sat down in front of her.

"Because if I… If I’m…” Her hand fell to her side as she looked for her words, “If I want people to think I’m a girl, I won’t be me anymore.”

"Why?”

"I don’t want to be girly, I don’t want to be cute, or elegant, or sensitive, or any of that shit,” Her eyes started to water, but she bit back, “I’m cool, and I’m rough, but nobody’s gonna believe I’m a girl if I don't change at all— And I don’t want to change.”

"You— you don’t have to, Rocket.”

"You changed when you became a boy.”

"I changed because I was ten.” Sword’s eyes softened, “I grew into myself, not into being a boy. It was through myself and everyone around me that I got known and treated like a guy.”

"…Doesn’t it— piss you off?!” Rocket barked, “That we’ve been saying this whole time that having tits and shit doesn’t make you a girl and then I’m saying that having them would make me a girl?”

"Rocket, you don’t have breasts.”

"…”

"But you're sure that you’re a girl, aren't you? You feel like one.” He leaned in, “It seems like you’ve been thinking about it a lot. What parts we do and don’t have don’t matter, Rocket,” Putting his hand on her shoulder, “Being a boy or a girl or neither is about feeling.”

She stared at him for a moment. He had been trans for way longer than she had. Medkit for even longer than him. She let out a small groan, “I can—” And sucked in a breath, “I don’t… Have to change anything to be a girl.”

"No.”

"…But I still want to, just, my body, not my me.” She grabbed at her shirt, “Can I have that?”

"Of course you can.”

"…Thanks.” Her shoulders slacked, “Are you still mad?”

"A little. I’m taking my bra back.” He looked over his shoulder, “I wish you’d told me you were thinking about gender, I could've helped!”

"I know— I know that now,” Rocket rolled her eyes, “But like… I dunno. I thought you’d think I thought you couldn't be a boy if I was a girl.”

"Am I still a boy to you?”

"Duh.”

"Then that’s that!” He stood up, holding his hand out for her, “Do you… Want me to call you a girl now?”

"Uh— not in front of my dad yet, I think.” She took his hand, “I want to be a girl to you, though.”

"I can do that!” He pulled her up, “Also… You know you can get sports bras at the dollar store, right?”

"No, I didn’t know that.” Her expression flattened, “The only person I’ve ever lived with is my dad, and you didn't exactly talk to me about underwear.”

"Well, you can!” He turned around, “They’re shitty, but you can!”

"Huh.” Rocket paused for a second, “…Wow. It's really that easy, huh?”

"To get sports bras?”

"To be trans.” She looked away, “I really thought I’d have to be a different person.”

"Oh— well, it might get hard sometimes, but… Be yourself.” He smiled at her, “Everyone we know knows I’m trans, I’m sure they’ll accept you too.”

"…Thanks.” She smiled back at him, “Hey, remember when I wanted you to cut my horns?”

"Hm? Yeah?” He tilted his head.

"When my hair grows out, you wanna help me cut something else?”

~~~~~~

Rocket was eighteen, Sword was twenty.

"Roooockeeeet!” Sword walked onto the pier, waving his hand.

Rocket perked up. Between the time she was fifteen and came out to everyone and now, she had changed quite a bit. Her hair was the cool, half-shaved half-long style that she wanted, and she’d bleached then dyed it, taking on a striking electric blue. She’d gotten taller again and settled into a nice… 5’6” and a half. Her wardrobe was the same as ever, a jacket over a tank top and sweatpants underneath. She smiled at him, “Hey!”

"Sorry I’m late, my dad kept me for extra training drills,” He hurried to her side, “Did it go well?”

"You bet.” She grinned at him, “I’m surprised they let the consulting from when I was seventeen count, but either way, I got approved! I’m picking up my first bottle next week.”

"Yay!” He threw his arms around her, “I’m so happy for you, Rocket!” And squished his cheek against her.

"Hey— dude, it’s just estrogen.” She pushed him off, “…But it is pretty sick. They gave me liquid to do injections but I kinda want pills instead, I wanna boof my prog.”

"Ooh, cool.” He stared at her for a moment, “…What’s prog?”

"Progesterone.” She clarified, and he nodded, but continued to stare, “…Estrogen.”

"Ohhhh!” He smiled, “…What’s boofing?” Then his eyebrows furrowed.

"You've run out of stupid questions for today.” She crossed her arms on the fence, looking out at the sea, “Are you gonna start anything soon?”

"Hey—! Um,” He looked out with her, “Not yet, I still wanna wait a bit longer.”

"Why?”

"Hm…” He looked down, “…I think I want to have a family first. Does that make sense?”

"Can’t you start a family while being on T?”

"In theory, yeah, and it's mostly safe… But, it really doesn’t bother me that much anyway!” Sword shrugged, “I’d rather have kids and then start T than risk it.”

"I guess that makes sense.” She looked out, thinking.

"…Also, since T would make me stronger, my dad would make my training harder and I… Do not want to do that.”

"Pffft.” She held in a laugh, “Afraid of being a big buff man?”

"Afraid of training for hours and hours!”

Rocket smiled at him. Sword really hadn’t ever changed, “It’s funny, isn’t it?”

"Not to me!”

"No, not the training. Us.” She elbowed him, “We started out as a boy and a girl, changed, and then looped back around.”

Oh, and something else that had changed— Rocket and Sword started dating when she was sixteen.

"Oh… Oh, yeah, I guess we did.” He laughed, “Does that make us straight?”

"I guess. Hm,” She thought for a moment, “I thought I was bi, but I’ve never really liked anyone but you, so now I’m not sure.”

"Would you still like me if I wasn’t a boy?”

"Duh. What about me?”

"I liked you before anyone knew you were a girl!”

"So that makes us… Huh.”

"…Sword and Rocket?”

"Yeah, I like that.” She put her arm over his shoulder.

Boy, girl, neither, or anything in-between, they would always be Sword and Rocket.

[End]