Very edited version on Ao3 under the same title :)

Hi. Im skylr, im 13, And im ftm transgender, fun right? but with my religious family and unsupportive school. I think not. They keep trying to fix me, but in reality, there is nothing to fix. This is my story of becoming me.

[UPDATE 30/5/2017: I've been pretty shit at updating this over the last year (sorry!!), however I promise I'll come back to this story at some point.] The name Francesca felt like some kind of twisted joke to him. Being referred to as 'she' felt even worse. And his body made him feel sick. Because it just wasn't his. He wasn't Francesca - he was Frank (or, if he specifically said so, you could call him Frankie... But that was only reserved for really special people.) And the one thing he wished for was to be happy in his own skin. But he knew that would take a long time. * This story follows a young transgender boy. I should mention that I am not transgender, I am a cis female, and obviously I know that I cannot fully understand the struggles that people who are trans face. This story is partly my way of showing support for those who are trans (including a couple of my closest friends) and partly me trying to work on my ability to write about issues that do not directly affect me (i.e. dysphoria and having parents who will not support you). If you are trans and something I say comes across as offensive, please know that it was not intended that way, and I am sorry. Leave a comment and I'll change or remove it as soon as I can.

Book 1 HomeLess Book 2 ReckLess Book 3 SenseLess Being homeless isn't the end of the world. At least, that's what Zachary thought when he found himself on the streets after being kicked out at seventeen. It hadn't been his fault. His father had used him as a scapegoat and won his mother over, thinking that her husband was telling the truth about his cheating and that Zachary was the one who was bringing women over, trying to ruin their marriage. He'd argued his side, but once his mother decided on something, her mind would not be changed. That's how he came to live in the alley near the end of 73rd street between the old bakery and a laundromat. It wasn't anything special, but after three years he'd managed to spruce up the place and make it almost-bearable to live in. Over the years he'd made friends with random people he often passed on the streets and did manage to hold down a few random jobs, but like everything else, they came, then went. Now he was left with fifteen dollars and twenty-two cents, a torn blanket, one outfit, and a dream for a better life. He just didn't know that he'd find it somewhere he'd never thought to look... or with someone he never knew he'd want.