Friday, August 29th, 2042, Home of the Porter Family, Maywood Park, Oregon.

Ryan still had trouble breathing. He stared straight ahead, making sure not to look down at his body, or even at the hands which held the throw blanket like a cloak.

In his state, he barely registered as Lucia exhaled and rubbed a hand down her face. Then, shaking her head, she muttered, "You need to learn to share, mano."

He froze. Sharing? How could she talk about sharing when his own body took her side?

Lucia's voice was firm, but not unkind. "Kaelyn isn't taking over, Ry." She tilted her head. "You just don't wanna let her sit at the table."

Ryan glared at her.

She doesn't get it. She's not in my skin, she can't understand what I'm going through!

"She's not supposed to be here," Ryan whispered, startled by how foreign his voice still sounded. "She's not—"

"—And that's true for you too, hermanita," she added, interrupting him. Her gaze was not fixed on her brother; instead, it pierced through him, searching for something deep within his being, as if trying to see past the shell of his physical form.

But it was her words which shut him up. They had hit like a direct punch to the gut.

Kaelyn. Lucia was talking to Kaelyn.

Ryan felt the girl stir. Not fighting for control. Not pressing forward. Just approaching. Curiously, but cautiously.

He squeezed his eyes shut, his pulse thundering. Lucia was right.

Kaelyn had been taking more. More space, time. More of him. And, naturally, Ryan had been pushing back. Clawing desperately for control. Fighting.

Because what if I lose? What happens to me if Kaelyn wins?

But now, Lucia was looking between them, between him and the parts of himself he refused to acknowledge.

And she was calling them both out. "You're treating each other like enemies," Lucia said tiredly. "And it's making you miserable—no matter which you."

Megan watched him carefully as Ryan processed what Lucia had just told him.

Then, slowly, she nodded. "Lu's right," she said. "You're not losing or winning this. Because it's not a fight."

Ryan tightened the blanket ever harder, trying to shut himself off from this conversation. But Megan was not done. She leaned in slightly, eyes steady. "Either you learn to live with each other, or you're going to end up breaking apart."

Ryan shuddered. And deep, deep inside him, Kaelyn sighed.

…She's not wrong, you know? I don't want to fight you.

Ryan let out a shaky breath. Because he knew—had known for a while—but hearing it from them made it real.

He inhaled an unsteady breath. Lucia's words still rattled inside his chest. Megan's, too.

Both of them were right, but admitting so did not make this any easier. His hands trembled against the blanket, gripping it like it was the only thing keeping him from coming apart.

The room was quiet. No one spoke for a while. Lucia and Megan were waiting for him to say something. Do something.

"Earlier—" Ryan swallowed. He wondered if it was wise to share this much. And then, without really finding his answer, he continued. "I was stuck in a nightmare," he whispered.

Lucia tilted her head. "A nightmare?"

Ryan shook his head. "No," he corrected, his voice rough. "Not just a nightmare. Memories."

His stomach twisted. They were not his memories—they were hers. The ones that had shaped Kaelyn into the manipulator he had come to fear.

The girl backed away a little, quietly.

Ryan let out a breath that felt like a confession. "I was in some temple's dorms," he said. His fingers twitched, remembering the sensation of rough wool blankets, the smell of incense and frost. "But it wasn't me. Not really."

Lucia and Megan exchanged a glance. Ryan swallowed hard. His throat felt tight. "I woke up… and I was her." His voice barely rose above a whisper. "Younger, hurt and alone."

He could still feel it. The way the cold had seeped into his bones. The way his cheek had stung from the cut she—No—The cut I had.

Ryan's breath caught. Lucia and Megan stayed silent, waiting for him to continue. His hands fisted under the blanket. "Other students bullied me, laughed at me," he admitted. His voice trembled. "They shoved me down. Called me… called me a mongrel."

Megan's jaw tightened.

Ryan inhaled sharply. "I wanted to fight back, but—" His breath hitched. "But I knew no one would help me."

Lucia's expression shattered. Ryan's chest felt like it was caving in. "I didn't know where I was. I didn't know what was real." His voice was cracking. "I thought I was losing my mind. I thought—" He squeezed his eyes shut. "—I thought I was her."

The admission hung in the air, bare, raw, painful.

Megan exhaled through her nose. "Shit."

Ryan laughed bitterly. "Yeah," he muttered. "That about sums it up."

Lucia finally spoke. "Is that why you freaked out when you woke up, isn't it?"

Ryan nodded, barely. She rubbed a hand over her face.

Megan, still crouched near the couch, rested her elbows on her knees, thinking. Then, finally, she asked, "Is she listening right now?"

Was she? Because—yeah, Kaelyn was always there, even when she was not at the front. Even when she was quiet.

Ryan swallowed hard. "Yeah."

Megan nodded slowly, then leaned forward slightly. "Then talk to her."

He stiffened. "What?"

Megan tilted her head. "You just lived through one of her memories, babe. And I'm guessing she's been living through yours, too."

His stomach twisted at the implications.

Yeah, yeah, maybe it's the same for her.

Kaelyn knew everything about him; the way he thought, the way he moved, the way he avoided mirrors. He had been inside her world, but the girl had been inside his, too.

Ryan licked his lips, his voice hesitant. "What am I supposed to say?"

Megan shrugged. "I dunno," she said. "But you've been treating her like a virus taking over your body. Like an invader." She met his gaze. "But she's not."

Ryan felt Kaelyn stir.

Lucia's voice was quieter. "You don't have to like her, Ryan."

"But maybe," Lucia continued, choosing her words carefully, "maybe you should try talking to her like she's… a person."

Ryan let out a shaky breath.

A person?

Ryan swallowed. And finally he whispered, "…Kaelyn?"

His own voice sounded foreign. For a moment, nothing happened. Then he heard her—the girl.

…I'm here.

Her voice was softer than he expected, and Ryan did not know how to feel about that. He exhaled. His hands trembled against the blanket. His chest felt tight, raw, uncertain. Kaelyn had answered; she was still here. She had always been here.

Ryan clenched his jaw. For so long, he had fought her. Or used her. Treated her like either like a tool to use, or a problem to be fixed. But after everything—after that memory, after feeling the cold, the pain, the loneliness—he understood something now.

The girl had not just recently appeared. She had been there, waiting, alone.

Ryan inhaled slowly, shakily. And then, voice barely above a whisper, he said "…I'm sorry."

She stilled. He could feel it—her presence in his mind going completely silent, like she had not expected that, and did not know what to do with his apology.

Ryan swallowed. "And I do care," he continued, his voice unsteady. "You know, about our past."

This caused her to react. He could feel a flicker of raw emotion, of something too tangled to name.

For a moment, she did not answer. Then, when she did, her voice was softer than he had ever heard it.

…It's a start.

And for the first time since this had started, Ryan did not fight her. He let out a slow, unsteady breath.

The girl was quiet. Not absent, not gone. Listening. Processing. And he did not feel like she was going to fight him for control. She was just waiting.

But then, after a moment, her voice came through, soft but sure.

But knowing and caring doesn't mean she'll forgive you.

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Kaelyn stirred—the sharp one, the mask. Ryan felt her words cut through him like a knife.

Damn right. It's not that easy, chico.

Ryan huffed a weak laugh, but there was not any humour in it.

Yeah. Yeah, you're right, of course. Sorry.

Just acknowledging her did not undo everything. Did not fix the mess they were in or suddenly make him okay with all of this.

Ryan shifted slightly under the blanket. His ears twitched as fabric rubbed against them. He still hated how sensitive they were—how hard they were to ignore. He hated feeling their weight on the top of his head, and the way they flicked instinctively at the slightest sound.

He clenched his fists. "I know I fucked up," he muttered.

Kaelyn did not argue, because she knew, too.

Ryan sighed, voice hoarse. "So, what do we do now?"

…This is a good first step. Talking like this.

Ryan exhaled sharply, his breath shaking. Lucia and Megan had stayed quiet, listening.

But Megan nodded, her voice steady. "You have us, too."

His chest felt like it was caught between too many things: fear, frustration and maybe a little bit of hope?

He closed his eyes, and, this time, when he breathed, it felt like Kaelyn was there with him, breathing the same air.

Ryan stiffened. Because Kaelyn's voice—closer now, clearer—was done just listening. She had something she wanted to ask. Not pushing or demanding, just asking.

Will you ever let me go back? In the driver's seat?

Ryan hesitated. It was one thing to accept she was here with him. But to surrender his body to her?

His fingers curled against the blanket, gripping the fabric too tightly. Kaelyn's voice was calm, but pointed.

If you don't, chico… Then I can always wait for a moment of weakness to rip control away from you, like you did earlier?

Ryan felt sick. Because she was right: that was exactly what he had done. He had not asked. He had taken over. The second Megan grabbed his wrist, he had felt the girl lose her composure. That's when he seized the initiative and forced his way back and unceremoniously ripped control away from her.

The exact thing he had been afraid she would do to him, and she just threatened she could do. Ryan's stomach twisted painfully. Had Kaelyn ever forcefully taken over, or had he always let her take charge?

Lucia and Megan were silent, observing him—this was between him and Kaelyn now.

Ryan swallowed, his throat burning. He wanted to say no, to tell her he was not ready yet. He was afraid to admit he still did not trust her. How he was still scared of losing himself. Of her simply erasing him.

But he could not. Because he had to face the facts; unlike him, the girl had never done anything to hurt him or suffocate him.

Today, she had taken control of their body, but he had not even been there—it was available to all. She had not stolen anything from him. She had lived in his world for barely a few hours, and collected a number of small victories; her first bath, first coffee, first bowl of cereals. Clothes that suited her instead of him.

And what had he done in return? He had lived in hers, felt her pain and her memories. Felt what it was like to be her. Then, he had ripped control as soon as she felt Megan's touch for the first time.

I'm such a terrible person.

Ryan exhaled shakily. "I don't know if I can," he admitted.

He felt the girl digest that. She did not mock him, or push.

She just let him sit with it. Ryan licked his lips, then whispered, "…But I'll try."

He could tell Kaelyn had not expected that. For the first time since this started, she sounded gentle.

…That's all I needed to hear, chico.

But there was something deeper behind the tone of her voice. Not cruel or mocking, but honest and matter of fact.

Consider this, chico. Today, we're evenly matched.

He dreaded what she was about to say because he knew where this was going.

This body? In equal parts neither yours nor mine.

His fingers curled tighter into the blanket.

Don't say it!

But Kaelyn did not stop. Her voice was steady, certain, and inevitable.

But tomorrow? You might not be able to force us out anymore.

Ryan squeezed his eyes shut. She was right. If nothing changed, tomorrow, he would wake up even less himself. His hands would be smaller, his voice softer, his body further from anything he grew up with. And if he lost any more ground, if he slipped just a little more, would he be able to come back? Would he even have a place left?

So remember that. Remember how you acted today, and how you treated us yesterday, when you were stronger. Because I won't forget.

Ryan's pulse pounded.

Remember how you sealed away a part of yourself for twenty years. Because I haven't forgiven you for that yet, chico.

The weight of those words crushed him, because her resentment was not just about the past few days. She was not even talking about just this fight for control; she was talking about all of it. Every time he had ignored, dismissed, or rejected a part of him. Every time he had refused to acknowledge what she was.

Kaelyn's voice was quiet, but firm.

Because soon, it'll be our turn.

Ryan's breath came shallow, sharp. He wanted to argue, wanted to tell her she was wrong. But they both knew she was not. Tomorrow would bring more changes, and when it did, who would he even be?

Ryan's thoughts were spiralling. Kaelyn's words sat heavy inside him, pressing down on his chest.

Tomorrow, it'll be Kaelyn's turn.

God. What if she was right? What if—

Lucia's voice cut through his thoughts like a knife. "You know, mano…"

He looked up, barely peeking from under the blanket, as his sister leaned against the armrest, arms crossed. Her expression was somewhere between exasperated and amused. "I don't understand why you're freaking out so much about this."

Ryan blinked. What was there to confuse her? How could she not understand?

Lucia sighed, tilting her head. "Two days ago, you were showing off that killer bod in front of me, telling me how popular you'd be, and how you'd get all the invites."

Ryan froze. Of course, she would remember that.

Oh, no, she's going to bring that up now? Here?

Lucia smirked. "And now you're getting all that." She gestured vaguely toward the window. "Headlines, two days in a row. First, the face of the Glitch. Now? The world's first catgirl."

Megan let out a small, choked laugh, but Lucia continued. "Everybody knows who you are. That popularity you wanted? You've got it all. Both in game and out." She raised an eyebrow, deadpan. "And suddenly, you don't want any of it anymore?"

Ryan's face burned. He wanted to dig a hole in the ground, or die. His tail lashed beneath the blanket without his permission. Lucia noticed, and her grin widened.

Ryan made a strangled noise. "That was then—That's different! I didn't—"

Megan wheeze-laughed. "Oh my God."

Ryan glared at both of them. "That's not the same thing!"

Lucia shrugged. "I dunno. You kinda manifested this one, mano."

Ryan groaned, burying his face into the couch. Megan gasped dramatically. "Ryan, you're telling me you don't want to be the internet's number one catgirl influencer?"

Ryan tried kicking at her from under the blanket, but Megan dodged effortlessly.

She grinned. "You'd be great at it."

Ryan let out a miserable sound.

Lucia leaned down slightly, elbow resting on the couch. Her voice softened. "I don't get why you're making such a big deal. Just because your body is changing, you're still you, you know? Whether you like it or not."

Ryan did not know how to respond. Lucia patted his shoulder through the blanket, which made him recoil further into the corner of the couch, and pull the blanket tighter. "Anyway," she said lightly, "if you wanna keep hiding under there, go for it. Just figured I'd remind you of your own dumb words before you go full existential crisis."

Ryan grumbled. Lucia smirked, victorious. And Megan, still laughing, just muttered, "Damn. Manifesting really works, huh?"

Ryan threw a pillow at her. She caught it and tossed it back onto the couch. Her smirk faded. "Except," Megan said, her voice sharper now, "it's not all fun and games here."

Lucia raised an eyebrow. Megan's arms crossed over her chest. "There's no respawning. No death penalty. No reset button."

She's right. This is the real world.

Megan turned toward Lucia, her expression flat. "If you heard what the patrons at the bar said when the news aired yesterday, you'd be more worried, Lu."

Lucia paused, and Ryan saw the shift in her expression—that flicker of realisation. Megan nodded once. "Yeah. Thought so."

Lucia exhaled, rubbing the back of her neck. "Okay. Maybe I forgot about those consequences for a minute."

Ryan clenched his jaw. Because he had been so focused on what was happening to him—On his identity crisis, his crippling dysphoria—he had not stopped to consider the other dangers.

Lucia turned toward Megan. "It's not like we don't have to deal with the same shit," she muttered, dry as bone. "Mano here wanted to see what it's like, walking in our shoes?" She gestured vaguely at Ryan, curled under the blanket. "Well, here you go." Lucia sighed. "More than half the planet has to deal with this crap. Suddenly having to handle this? It doesn't make him that special."

Ryan felt sick, because she was right. This world was far less kind to women than it was to men.

Megan crossed her arms, shifting her weight. "…Yeah," she muttered, looking away for a second. "But we had our entire lives to learn and prepare."

Ryan shrank. For all his complaining, for all his freaking out, what Lucia had described was not news. Not for her, or Lucia, or billions of people. And now? Now it would apply to him, and Ryan hated it.

For the first time, he understood how much privilege he used to have. Only after he lost it all.

Lucia sighed again, looking at Ryan. "…So," she said, quieter now. "What do we do about it?"

Ryan pulled the blanket even closer. Megan frowned in his direction and exhaled. "First?" She looked at him. "We get him out of the goddamn blanket."

The two women grinned wickedly at each other.

Wait, wait, what now?!

Ryan shot both hands out from under the blanket, frantically waving them off. "Hold on! Hold on!"

Megan and Lucia paused mid-motion.

Ryan's face was burning, tail flicking anxiously under the covers. "No way," he muttered. "You're not making me do this."

Lucia raised an eyebrow. "Do what?"

Ryan grimaced. He knew what they wanted, what was coming; they were about to make him—him—come out of his cocoon of warmth and actually face reality. The blanket had been his only shield, his only defence against the relentless, crushing weight of everything.

And now, they wanted to tear it away. Rip off the proverbial band-aid.

Ryan let out a shaky breath, his ears flattening against his skull. And then, without thinking, he whispered: "You can… come back, Kaelyn."

Megan's eyebrows shot up, and Lucia blinked. "Wait. What?"

Ryan's hands clenched into fists. He inhaled deeply, forcing the words out before he could stop himself. "…Please? Take over for this part?"

For a second longer, it was only silence, but Ryan could feel her. She was right there, waiting. Enjoy this. Kaelyn let the moment stretch. She let him speculate how she would react.

But he also felt her surprise. And how she was even a little touched.

…Tired of dealing with the awkward part yourself, huh, chico?

Ryan exhaled shakily. "Just shut up and do it."

In their mind, Kaelyn laughed. And Ryan felt himself let go. Not completely. Not like he was being pushed aside, but like he was handing the wheel over. For the first time, he did it consciously, and on his own terms.

Ryan's breath slowed—his entire body shifting, adjusting. Her posture changed, her expression softened. And when Kaelyn's eyes finally opened again, she stretched, rolling her shoulders, taking in the weight of the body that was becoming hers.

She grinned as she let the blanket fall off her shoulders. "Oh, chico," she purred, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "You really should've let me handle this sooner."

Lucia and Megan stared, but Megan broke first.

She snorted. "Well. That was fast."

Lucia let out a sigh of relief. "Hey gatita," she said. "Back so soon?"

Kaelyn winked. "Oh, come on, hermanita. You missed me."

Lucia smiled. And Megan? She just grinned.

Kaelyn looked at the two women surrounding her; this was probably the best-case scenario. For now.

Megan watched her closely. But this time, she was not trying to find Ryan inside. She was seeing Kaelyn.

Since they had met yesterday in VR. Kaelyn knew Megan could tell her apart from the others. But this was the first time she was seeing Kaelyn inhabiting this body, the one they shared in the real world.

Kaelyn felt exposed and vulnerable in it. But despite that, she moved with a different confidence. She sat differently from Ryan and carried herself with a confidence so clearly hers and not his.

Megan held a breath and Kaelyn could immediately tell; Megan had finally seen her.

She was sitting here, right beside her. Not in a virtual space, but in a body made of flesh and blood.

Kaelyn shed the blanket completely, tossing it aside. Megan swallowed. Because she could see her now. In her leggings, tennis skirt and tank top, wearing a training bra, a cardigan draped lazily over her shoulders.

Kaelyn's ears twitched slightly, as if testing the air. Her tail flicked once, as if shaking off the stiffness. Then she stretched luxuriously, rolling her shoulders before finally turning her attention to Megan. "Well?" Kaelyn asked, smirking. "Like what you see, princesa?"

Megan did not answer, but Lucia snorted. "Oh, Dios mío."

Megan could not look away, entranced. She could see all of Kaelyn now; she was real, and Ryan had willingly let her take over. Megan swallowed. Kaelyn knew what was going on inside her head. Megan had to process the fact that her boyfriend was sitting there, looking nothing like the boy she had known. How they currently looked closer to the woman who had flirted with her just yesterday.

Megan exhaled sharply and pressed a hand to her forehead, shaking her head. "…Ryan, you're lucky you're not the one in control right now."

Kaelyn beamed. "Oh, I know," she purred.

Lucia groaned. "Ah," she muttered, turning away. "Get a room, you two."

Megan's facial expression gave the impression she agreed with Lucia. But she could not stop staring.

Kaelyn knew Ryan's partner was trying to come up with the words. To say something, but she kept drawing blanks.

So Kaelyn tilted her head slightly, ears flicking forward.

I'll just have to make her say something, then.

She watched Megan with that sharp, knowing gaze, studying her reaction, taking in the way she was still processing, still trying to put the pieces together. And then she smiled. A slow, playful one. "So," she purred, voice smooth as silk. "If Ryan's your boyfriend…"

Megan nodded slowly, and Kaelyn leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on one hand. "…Have you decided what you want us to be?"

Megan had no answer. She stammered something and Lucia made a choking noise in the background.

What do you think, chico? Which one do you think she likes more?

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