Chapter 4

Soul wakes promptly, forgetting the past twenty four hours of feminine hell. Snuggles into his many, many pillows and wraps his hands comfortingly around his junk. He's never been particularly attached to that which makes him markedly different from the opposite sex, physically at any rate. Well, waking up with tits- even small, pert ones (he tries to bury his shame in his pillows because he has totally misjudged breasts)- changes everything.

He drags his headphones over his ears and hits play, body relaxing as a piano piece begins- Liebestraum No. 3 in A flat. Lays in bed a few minutes longer, listening to the arpeggios until Wes, predictably, starts bitching at him.

"Soul! The school called, they said if you showed up again at lunch without a call from your guardian, they would be forced to bring in the parental. You know how much mother would enjoy that." The subtle stress leaving nothing to the imagination. "Move your ass, little brother!"

Yeah yeah, she would enjoy that about as much as he would reform school. Which, incidentally, had been the threat: move in with Wes or pack your bags. Her feelings are valid, he thinks, but he lost so much that day as well.

"Fuck," he groans. "I'm up." He presses his palms to his eyes, wishing he didn't feel like he could sleep for eternity.

The footsteps retreat as his brother shouts. "Good."

After the song is over, he removes his headphones, setting them on the sheets. Sighing heavily, he pushes his hands through his hair, getting his unruly mop out of his face, when black marker catches his eye. Eyes squinting, he reads the letters scrawled across his wrist- "Maka".

He's sitting up examining his hand. "What the fuck?" he whispers. Absentmindedly reaching down for his phone on the floor next to his bed, he palms the ground a few times before he realizes it's not there.

A vibration from under his pillow reveals the phone's location. Retrieves it to find a message from Liz. [[Thanks for the patch job. I enjoyed our ride ;) ]]

Words aren't forming as he stares at the random message and decides he won't reply on principle. He has no idea what she's talking about. A sudden swooping in his stomach makes him feel as though he's going to vomit because he remembers nothing except a vague feeling of having worn a skirt to school yesterday. If he doesn't cool his shit, he's going to trigger a panic attack.

He rubs his scarred chest absentmindedly, slumping back in his bed as he scans his phone, pulling up his daily planner only to find a cryptic note: "Took a Lyft home with Liz thanks to my feminine powers." Someone's hacked his phone. It's the only logical conclusion, Soul thinks, holding his palms firmly against his eyes.

With an ungraceful scramble, Soul yanks up his blinds and presses his face to his window, craning his neck at just the right angle to see Matilda safe and intact in his parking space. The sigh of relief he lets out fogs his window and he slumps back to the bed, heart still racing. When it comes to priorities, Matilda is the list- bodily possession be damned. He'll figure out sooner or later who's fucked with his phone, 'cause this is low even for Wes.

X

Harvar's stare makes him feel itchy. Soul, feeling increasingly more hostile as the day continues, fidgets incessantly with his red wristband. Killik is going on about the morning's lessons, but Soul has been subjected to Harvar's reflected stare for the past twenty minutes. He's had enough.

"Take a picture," Soul mutters, breaking his silence. "It'll last longer."

Unfazed, his oldest friend responds, "You're different today. Normal."

Soul looks up, staring at his own wild red eyed look mirrored in the boy's sunglasses.

Finally sensing the tension, Killik punches Harvar in the arm, causing the latter to look at anything else.

"You've all been acting crazy," Soul grumbles.

Scoffing Killik says, "Look who's talking." When he's met by Soul's level glare, he continues. "Yesterday you wig out about Deathbucks. Squeal about Instagram- ya man, actually squealed," he says, fighting the look Soul gives him, "and," he pauses for dramatic flair, "asked us where you worked. Buddy, out of all of us, you're the one that's been actin' crazy."

Mouth still agape, Soul is left helplessly looking left then right and back. No way, he thinks, no fucking way. Digs out his phone. Sure enough, his never before used feed has amassed likes and- "Are you fucking kidding me?"- his bank account is nearly forty dollars lighter.

"You walked." Comes Harvar's monotone statement.

"You guys pranking me?" Soul spits, still angry. "'Cause that's fucked up."

Even as he says it, he knows that can't possibly be true and he feels like shit for having voiced that ungenerous thought. "No, guess not," he growls.

Brushing off the incident, Killik smiles wide and shakes his head. "You wanna come with to Deathbucks after school anyway?"

Soul gives him the same dubious look children around the world reserve for brussel sprouts. "No man, I've got work."

"Remember where you're going today?"

Soul gets up muttering curses, brushes off his uniform, and gives his friend the middle finger. Killik cracks up, laughing loudly, and Soul leaves in a huff.

After a minute, Killik calms down. "He's definitely himself today. You think?" he says, elbowing Harvar.

The boy straightens his sunglasses, blushing slightly. "I don't know," he says evenly, "he was sort of cute yesterday."

X

The entire day he's dodged people and double takes. Presently, he sits on a chair, trying to ignore the notes that have been flitting through his brain before his shift. Petulantly putting water droplets from his straw on the tightly scrunched paper wrap, he watches as the paper worm grows- Dad taught him how. He's avoiding eye contact with the guys from work who are staring daggers at him as if they were the popular middle school clique.

He feels cornered and tense, like a music string wound too tight about to break.

"Hi Soul," a smooth voice interrupts his stormy thoughts.

Unwilling to be a rude bastard, because he was raised better, he mumbles, "Uh, hey, Liz."

The tall blond smiles brightly then waves at the angry trio, "Let's have a good shift, m'kay boys?"

Maka wakes to her arms covered in angry looking pen slashes that upon closer observation read: Maka? Who are you? Why are you doing this?

As if this isn't bewildering enough, her door slides open to reveal her little cousin, Tsugumi, who is giving her a very pointed look. "Well, thank Death. You're not groping your boobies today."

Without further comment her door is slid forcefully shut.

Green eyes blink rapidly behind dusty blonde fringe as Maka wraps her arms around her chest defensively. Why the hell would she be groping her boobs?

X

Maka doesn't preoccupy herself with the opinions of others- when she can help it. But, this day isn't getting better. After greeting Kid brightly, the room immediately breaks off into a buzz of titters and pointed stares.

Now feeling bewildered, Maka slides into her seat next to Kid. "What happened?" she asks breathlessly, while trying to avoid looking in any general direction.

"Well," Kid looks at her carefully. "Do you not remember what happened yesterday?"

Yesterday!? she thinks, dread making her tummy feel queasy, and shakes her head, not brave enough to imagine what could possibly have occurred.

"Well, you were wearing your hair in the man-bun mess again," he says, steamrolling over her hard cringe. "Medusa and her crew were up to their usual shenanigans. You looked pissed. Asked if they were talking about you," he says all of this in his general monotone, working on the balance of his art piece, completely oblivious to Maka low-key freaking out. "And yeah they were, but-" He lowers his pencil.

Maka stares into her friend's eyes, willing him to spit it out.

"Basically, you ended up telling Medusa that she was wearing the cheap wannabe equivalent of Burberry's fall line up," Maka doesn't see how this is exactly terrible- "from three seasons ago. And you dissed her cheap Coach knock-off. Then-" Kid stares at her. "You went on to tell Ms. Nygus where she had erred in her music history timeline."

The world fades to buzzing silence in her ears.

What?! She doesn't know a thing about music, and she would never dream of correcting an instructor like some elitist music snob.

"Yeah, they're all afraid of you now," Kid says calmly, going back to his board. "I mean, at least they're not talking loud enough for you to hear anymore. So, that's an improvement?"

Her heart is hammering in her chest, "I s-suppose."

X

Running home after school, Maka flips through her phone furiously, going through her school notes, unaware that many many miles away a boy named Soul is doing the exact same.

The dates aren't matching up! "Oh my death," she wheezes. Staring at the notes that started appearing in her phone- "Showed them. Talking about her like that."

They're-

It is difficult to draw in air. Those dreams. They're not- not dreams! She's actually, magically? Spiritually? Could quantum physics be involved? How can she possibly be switching places with this boy?

It can't be possible!

The past few days crash before her mind's-eye, the things Star and Kid have said. The dreams she's had. The notes written on her arm- Tsugumi! Horrified, she clutches her chest. No, no, no, no, no! She screeches internally. This is the stuff of movies, really badly written movies. Maka and Mama had loved watching Freaky Friday long ago, before-

It just can't be true. Maka shakes her head, feeling faint. Soul must be a real boy around her age who lives in Vegas!?

X

The phone goes off in the morning.

Maka hits the ground with a hard thump. "Not again," she groans in his deep voice.

School is hard. She thought she was in advanced classes- but he's in some master's level music classes. Killik and Harvar. The cafe. All the instagrams.

Liz smiling at her. Waiters yelling at her. Chefs yelling at her. Diners yelling at her.

She's yelling at herself.

Falling exhausted into his bed.

"Wake up!" Yells Tsugumi. "Quit groping yourself, pervert!"

Soul tries to bury himself in blankets. It's a dream. Boobs are interesting.

The country is so open. Is the air really this fresh?!

Foreign language?

Ugh. But, longer hair is sort of interesting.

His- her dad is a nut!

Braiding things? He can't keep up.

He hasn't walked this far in his entire life! Crashing into bed, and hating himself for thinking he's really cute- she is!

The days are beginning to blur, almost as if she's unsure of which timeline and reality she's in. What is time? Waking from switching with Soul feels like a very strange dream. They've started leaving messages so that they can decode what they're going through.

Even with all the madness, Maka feels comforted by the fact that she gets to share her life in such an...intimate...way. Oh! No, scratch that! What was it Tsugumi said- she's been touching her boobs recently- how dare he!

She scrambles to her phone. They need to lay down ground rules! She opens her phone to write him a message and is distracted by his notes.

"What's causing this? We change at random. Triggered by sleep? It's definitely happening going off everyones reactions to us." Us, her eyes stay on the word.

Okay, so maybe he hasn't been a creep about it- wait does that mean she isn't his type? Banishing that thought, she hastily types up a memo below his app: FORBIDDEN. In all caps, No groping! No touching! No baths!

She will take care of all those things when she's herself. Feels equal parts mortified and curious. Doesn't quite recall his looks other than she feels warm when she thinks of him. Does he, could he feel the same?

X

The hard, wooden floor of his room wakes her proper. Grumbling, she picks up his phone- is that classical music he's playing? He plays this song a lot, but she has no idea what the song is. She likes it. She has notifications sent from her phone number.

[[Yeah, we need to work together. You have rules so do I: Stop wasting my money. Quit messing with my tongue ring- the skull is cool- but quit changing the ends daily, no one does that! Don't touch Matilda! And, don't be late! I need this job.]]

Maka scoffs at the phone, feeling defensive. She's working too, like a lot. He has had shifts every night she has switched with him; Vegas people are serious about their Japanese food. And besides, it's his own body eating what she buys, so he really can't be that upset with her. Plus it's boring keeping the same end on something she's become so attached to. Quells ideas of what it would feel like to kiss someone with one- maybe just this particular someone.

That thought is dangerous.

Huffing out the door after finally getting dressed and saying good-bye to Wes, who she's become very fond of, never having had any siblings of her own, she's running to get where she's going- of course she'd never dream of riding his motorcycle, she'd probably get hit by a bus or something. Shakes her head of morbid thoughts, but is pleasantly surprised that by her constant running he seems to be gaining endurance. Tries hard not to think of what that is doing to his already well-built body.

This guy! she wordlessly shrieks, angry that he has any effect on her at all.

Maka's entire physical fitness class is looking at him, awoken to the fact she's sprouted wings. Because Maka Albarn would rather sit next to the sideline and read, rather than play ball.

So, Soul thinks ruefully, there are some perks to being a chick. Even the mediocre sports skills he's gained through his many embarrassing schoolings by Killik serve him. However, the sharp intake of breath by the guys watching his team shoot hoops leave him wondering if all guys are hardwired to be perverts- they should be put in the trash. Only, he realizes this after his jump shot has swooshed through the net, not entirely used to the extra movement of his chest as he lands, he hasn't exactly been bothering with bras.

"What?" he challenges them, flipping stray hairs out of his face. The red flush on their faces is priceless. How is it that he feel less anxiety as Maka? Maybe it's because she makes him feel bubbly, because she is or, at least, he thinks she's bubbly?

Soul tries, and fails, to not dwell on it.

X

"Maka!" says Kid, exasperation coloring his tone, for at least the tenth time in the conversation. Soul doesn't care, he likes how her name sounds. Tries to remember how it sounds when he says it. "Watch the skirt!"

Oh, but he dismisses that. He's thoroughly engrossed in this conversation with Kid. "But like what made you decide to go all Dark Elf?"

"Seriously?" Kid stares at him like he's unsure what's going on. "Since when have you played Skyrim, Maka?"

X

"Damn, Maks!" Black Star crows after Soul lands one of the more basic BMX tricks he used to do. "Look at'chu breaking out of your boring mold!"

"Shut up, dick," Soul shoots back, ignoring Star's shocked face. But the both of them keep at it while Kid looks on wistfully.

Having been around his own friend's pining but also unsure if he should step in or not, seeing as it's neither his body nor his place- something in Kid's eyes makes up his mind for him. His heart goes out to the studious boy who seems to only have eyes for this wild, oblivious, blue haired idiot. Soul screeches to a halt next to him, "You do realize he's into you, yeah?" Causing Black Star to nearly endo.

While Star tries to recover from the loss of air, Soul rides off, attempting a few other lower level tricks he used to do as a kid. Why had he ever quit?

A small, black part of his soul wonders if Blake's harboring an unrequited crush on this girl. And why an idea like that could possibly make him feel jealous when nothing has ever made him feel- not since that time so long ago. Still, something in his gut makes him think that Star might be receptive to Kid's feelings, in time.

X

Black Star, in some small way, reminds Soul of Wes. And when Blake asks him to help him with a project, Soul joins in willingly, even offering to saw up the abandoned logs. They work all afternoon.

Soul is finishing the last touches on their rough hewn table and stump chairs when Star shows up, holding Kid's eyes, surprising their oldest friend with his own cafe spot next to the Deathbucks vending machine.

It feels right, being in this group. The easy flow of conversation between the three friends. And, with a strange feeling, Soul finds he's glad Maka isn't in some sort of relationship. But, this also terrifies him because his feelings about her annoying perfectionist habits, how she tells him what he should and shouldn't be doing when he's her, have become less annoyed frustration and more like rueful affection. It's stupid that he feels so excited to relate this story to her.

That is…

… until he wakes up in his body.

X

His hand brushes the floor looking for his phone and the ringing alarm. It isn't there- it's stashed under the pillow, because that's what she does.

Her latest message: Got coffee with Liz. You've got a good thing going on with her. ;)

The fuck is that supposed to mean? he fumes, staring at the message feeling like he's cheating. He didn't ask for this! Why is she meddling with his relationship status?

He furiously types a comment: [[quit ducking with my dating life!]] Now even more pissed, because he hadn't noticed the error until after sending.

The next time Maka wakes as Soul she laughs at his petulant crankiness. She texts comments back: [[Why? Is someone starting to like me? XD]]

Soul's becoming intimately acquainted with the pounding of a particular vein in his forehead. She can't be serious? Is she twelve? [[yeah well, you're more popular when I'm you!]] he scoffs, one part bravado, three parts biggest dick of all time. But, she's pushing his limits.

[[Oh ho ho, you wound me!]] Maka laughs, enjoying the banter. She hadn't realized this subject would make him so defensive.

That is, until she sees the next message. [[What about you? don't see you dating people!]]

How dare he! And now she's fuming, she's single…

Soul's grumpy old man face resurfaces. I'm single…

'CAUSE I WANT TO BE! They both slam down their phones.