Synopsis (Events that did not really happen. You don’t have to read this)
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“When did I first see him?”? “Why did I see him?”? How did I first see him seems to be the most accurate question. But I’m not going to answer that, instead, I’m going to tell you a very weird memory of the two of us in a conversation.
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My memory of that time was somewhat blurry yet I remember the time, scene, place, and the feels of the scenario very clearly. It’s a feeling that is very hard to describe, but I will leave you to be very confused by yourself. He was standing incredibly, abnormally straight (in terms of outward appearance, if you know what I mean) in front of me with a very dim, dark face (I like to exaggerate). We were in front of a store, and he was holding what seemed to be a metal rod. He said to me, “Do you want me to kill someone for you?” to which I nervously replied, “N-no, thank you. I can commit homicide by myself just f-fine, b-b-but t-th-thank you for your kind offer…”
Don’t get me wrong, there are people that I want dead sincerely, but I don’t want to go to jail just yet. I’m too young. You might be thinking, “Why didn’t you run away, idiot?” that’s because I wasn’t scared. Scared? Me? Psh, no. I’m a man, not some useless scaredy cat who runs away at the first sign of danger because it’s instinct and we should always stay away from people who are dangerous, alright, kids? But it was mainly because he’s the key to my survival.
I’m going to cut to the chase and tell you one sentence that sums up my whole story: I got isekai’d/isekaid/isekaeid into a novel I had read online. Don’t know what “isekai’d/isekaid/isekaeid ” means? Go to Urbandictionary.com and find out. I’ll probably be cancelled for saying that. Anyway, I didn’t get reincarnated because I didn’t die in the first place (so reincarnation is physically impossible if one’s body did not die). I just slept one normal afternoon, and when I woke up, I got teleported to this–how do you say it? Ah, yes, “to this story that has no common sense and was only written to quench the thirst of 13-17-year-old teenagers.”
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And like any other isekai out there, I am destined to die. But I’m the love interest, so, why? That was the question I had for the author in my past life, “Why does he die? Isn’t he a love interest?”. I don’t wanna die. Who wants to die?
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All I know is that this body of mine is weirdly feminine and very weak and that I am orphaned and my granny takes care of me and that I am going to transfer schools because I was bullied, but not for looking, acting, moving, and speaking like I’m gay, but because I seemingly stole the attention of all the ladies’ boyfriends, and I hate it. Why do BL authors always have to make the bottom so weirdly and accurately feminine? And why is my body so dang small? I was an MVP in my basketball team back then. I was like, I don’t know, more than 5’ 7’’? But now, I am the height of a small, fourteen-year-old girl. I give “please don’t notice me, senpai because I’m weak and fragile and I don’t deserve your attention” vibes. And in this thirst web novel, I am a closeted gay in denial. Like, why? “EVERYONE KNOWS YOU’RE GAY AND IT’S GETTING OBVIOUS SO GET OUT OF THE CLOSET BEFORE I DRAG YOU OUT OF IT, WEIRD, FEMININE, PROBABLY FEMALE-IN-HIS-PAST-LIFE BOY.” is what I commented on the first novel I read (which is this novel). I gotta say, I got a lot of hate comments for that.
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Chapter one: That’s not… completely normal, but otherwise-
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“Laurence, a nice young man of 17 years. He lives by himself, no one really knows where his parents are, but he will cause you no trouble!” the old landlord smiled sweetly when asked if there were any people living in apartment 404. “He… acts a bit off sometimes… but otherwise, he’s normal! Does the nice couple want to take a look around your apartment?” The landlord said, referring to the new tenants. The young couple was newlywed and were looking for a new apartment. The wife clapped her hands together and smiled, “Yes, thank you!” With that, the landlord, the wife, and the husband happily skipped away to look at the apartment.
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Meanwhile, inside apartment 404…
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Laurence, the apartment owner in question, has just woken up. It was 7:00 in the morning, but it was the weekend. He’s not the only one who’s up so early on the weekends (talking of the newlywed couple outside who were so excited that they got up at 5 am to look for apartments). He sat up and rubbed his face forcefully before standing up and carrying on his usual morning routine. His toothbrush looked haggard and old. Like it was begging to be replaced. The worn-out toothbrush seemed to be saying, “Kill… me… please…”
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Seeing this, Laurence got rid of it and replaced the toothbrush with a new one. You could hear the old toothbrush saying, “Thank, you…” and you could see the new toothbrush with a horrified expression saying, “Oh no.”
These two toothbrushes just summarised Laurence’s social life. His friends were so scared of him that they avoided him, and those who were candidates for being his friends followed suit.
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Splash, splash!
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The water went everywhere while he washed his face to wake himself up. A black turtleneck, black pants, some expensive shoes for no reason, Gucci socks for no reason, a nice Balenciaga cap (?), And a black mask– his weekend attire. This is normal. He walked to his cupboard placed at the corner of his bedroom, and took out a camera, a dagger, a gun (?why?), and… binoculars? Completely normal.
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“Everyone has their own thing…”
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Laurence took his keys, walked out the door, then locked it. His neighbours smiled as they walked by him. He smiled back. Although the neighbours found him unique in his own way–weird, so to say– he was on good terms with them. He walked all the way to the glass door. The apartment he lived in was quite luxurious. It had its own kitchen, a lounge, and the most luxurious item–a digital lock with a password.
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“It’s just that Laurence’s ‘own thing’ is…”
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After taking a cab to a certain house, he found the nearest, tallest building that wasn’t too far away nor too close from the said house and laid out his things on the building’s rooftop. He then went on to take out his camera, focus on the open window of the house, and take pictures of his classmate.
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“…stalking a boy he met 9 years ago who did not even know him.”
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That’s not… completely normal, but otherwise, he passes as a teenager. After taking 7 or so photos of the sleeping boy, Laurence adjusted the camera to look at the photos he took. His usually passive, empty eyes suddenly shrunk. He noticed that this “person” of his wasn’t his person at all! The person he knew had full, red lips, an unblemished fair, porcelain face and a very, very slender waist that this ‘boy’ would pass as a woman if one looked from behind. But the person in bed only had 79% feminine features. A mole appeared under the person’s left eye and his once 100% fair face was now only 68% fair. And his waist! Oh, his waist! His slender waist is now only 59% slender (still considerably slender for a man, which is to say, Laurence is overreacting.)!
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Laurence knit his brows together as he continued to skim and scan the photos. No, no… This isn’t him. He thought to himself. He was so absorbed in looking at the photos that he didn’t notice the person leave the bed. There was no longer a head resting on the soft pillow. Instead, there was a piece of paper with a scribbled middle finger on it and beautiful calligraphy that said, “Hi there, Mr Peter Parker. Climbing building A again, are we?”
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Laurence didn’t even bother being shocked. He furrowed his eyebrows deeply. This person definitely wasn’t THAT person anymore. Besides that, he even knew where Laurence was! How absurd! It was like he was being stalked! A stalker being stalked!
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…?
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Ironic.
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Then, he remembered one small detail… He remembered how he transferred to Ne-Ville Academy, the school ‘that’ person would transfer to, 5 months ago, in advance, so that no one would find it suspicious how he transferred exactly at the time ‘that’ person did. That person would transfer to Laurence’s school according to the conversation that person’s grandma and aunt had which Laurence had (purposely) overheard. All his efforts would go in vain if ‘this’ person wasn’t even ‘that’ person! A passing thought went through his brain, “should I kill him?” He shook his head and pondered, “No, no… I shouldn’t do that… His grandma would be sad…”
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If this person knew that someone was stalking him, it doesn’t necessarily mean that he knew WHO was stalking him, right? Right?!?!
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If he knows then that’s when I’ll definitely kill him.
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Chapter two: Ah, yes… The joys of suicide…
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3 days earlier…
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Blurry faces and grainy voices filled his senses.
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[What if, one day, you woke up and you were dead?]
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One voice kept urging him to answer. He heard his own voice speak,
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[That’s stupid, Liam-]
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But the voice kept pushing,
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[No, dead as in, like, gone, disappeared, poof! Like that.]
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He heard a scoff (which was his own) then a hand blocked his blurry view from behind. He felt his body move to remove the hand over his eyes as he answered,
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[Get your hand away from me. I guess I’ll die, then.]
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Those two sentences were directed to two different people. He felt a hand ruffle his hair,
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[Guess who?]
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He was talking to an annoying child just now and he had to deal with another.
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[Get your hands off me. You literally covered my view a while ago. Scram.]
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He didn’t remember who he was talking to. He didn’t remember where he was. All he remembered was… his own very blurry figure. Nothing else.
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He heard the lingering voice, “What if, one day, you woke up and you were dead?”
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After seeing his own memories, his view shifted and the surroundings changed. He felt shorter and he felt wind brushing against his nape though he doesn’t remember getting a haircut. The world also dramatically changed. Everything was much clearer and it was as if there was a filter placed on the entire world.
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Unlike his own memories, these unfamiliar memories came flooding in an instant without taking a break. Only flashing short, important scenes to make him understand what kind of person the owner of the memories was. A kind, soft-spoken young man who had just turned 16 with his doting grandmother and his childhood friends. He himself just turned 18, he could remember, on the 9th of June in a room with 6 other people he played basketball with on the field. They were smashing 4 cakes that the “ate” of their group bought.
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(“Ate”- a term to address females who are older than you. Like a friend or a sibling.)
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“Happy birthday, baby~” one boy teased while wiping his own face, “You can go to jail for not paying your taxes now! AHAHAHA!”
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No. Don’t remember, don’t. He said to himself as the unfamiliar memories of the other person continued to play. He was unable to focus on the tv-like screen projected all around him, for he was stuck in his own thoughts. Yet he forced himself back to where he was. Perhaps he did not want to remember his own, I am not quite sure.
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It was raining. The other person was still a child, small for his age because of his genes. In front of the other person was another boy, arms hugging his knees while burrowing his face in his arms, leaning on a ceramic pole on the sidewalk. The other person held an umbrella for the child. The other person said something with a smile, gave the boy his umbrella, and ran inside the bakery one block away. When the other person returned, he held a small tiramisu in clear packaging with a sweet little ribbon on top. He shyly gave the cake to the boy who seemed to have expressed his doubtfulness, opening his mouth and muttering something without lifting his head and then, after a moment of hesitation, raised his eyes and warily took the cake. The boy’s little hands slowly opened the packaging, and the sweet aroma of the tiramisu enveloped the air. The boy’s eyes lit up and then gulped down the tiramisu instantly. The other person was watching him with big eyes as he devoured the cake. “Do you like it? I made it myself!” the other person proudly proclaimed, beating on his chest and smiling brightly.
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After that memory, ‘he’ felt himself laying on a soft quilt. Fighting his urge to sleep some more, he pried open his eyelids with great difficulty. A gentle voice was speaking near him. No, not speaking. But the voice wasn’t shouting either. More like it was urging him.
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“Avi,” the voice called out, “Avi, wake up. This is not like you. It’s way past 6 and we have to go visit the school!”
Avi? He thought to himself, could it be that my dream is not yet finished? Who is this woman calling?
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In fact, he was not dreaming anymore, he was fully awake. Glancing at where the voice was coming from, he was surprised. An old woman was sitting beside him. The old woman in his dreams! He woke up in a familiar yet unfamiliar room. The bed he was lying on was placed right beside a clear glass window with white curtains drawn. To his right was the said window, while to his left was the grandma, the door, a wooden desk, and a closet. If he looked at the foot of the bed, he’ll see a mirror. And he did. When he saw his reflection, he was even more stunned. He wasn’t him! This body wasn’t his! He had been transported inside the annoyingly feminine body of the ‘other person!’ But, if one looks closely, the Transmigration mister was generous to him. Maybe the Transmigration mister thought he wouldn’t adapt to the small, fragile body and gave him a few ‘advancements.’ His original face is a little bit identical to that of Avi’s. As he recalled, he was sure that Avi was a skinny guy with no muscle. But now, his newly baked body was hard as in hard but not hard hard. His abdomen still had 20% of the abs he had.
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“Avi,” the grandma stood up then turned to leave, “I know this is hard for you… If you need Grandma, I’ll be downstairs preparing food. Hurry and get ready, alright?”
Instead of answering, he only stared at the back of the unfamiliar old woman. Avi?!?!?!? My name is not Avi!! It’s… It’s…! Uhhhhh…. Even he doesn’t know his own name… What was his name again?
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Upon seeing that ‘Avi’ did not reply, the grandma sighed and left the room. ‘Avi’ on the other hand, was still dazedly staring ahead, processing “whatever the hell this shit is” over and over again. Slowly but surely, he started to connect the dots. Slowly but surely, the events in his memories started to become familiar. Slowly but surely, he realized…
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Shit. Have I fallen into ‘that’ novel?!?
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‘That novel.’ What novel? An LGBTQ+ novel. Avi was a homophobe. Not the internet derogatory term but the scientifically, technically correct term. He was, in truth, very scared of homosexuals. He would act awkward around them. And, to be honest, he respects their choice (which he knows has absolutely NOTHING to do with him), but his family wasn’t particularly respectful. He just doesn’t know how to act around them. He always thinks he’ll provoke them somehow. His thought process: If he-no, wait, she?-comes this way, what would I call them? Ma’am? Sir? Oh shit, they comin’, they comin’. Act normal.
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He acts like everything but normal. He would avert his eyes, scooch away very slowly but also very obviously avoid them. Because of this, he was once mistaken for being a homophobe (the derogatory term this time) and the people around him attacked him with vicious glares and words.
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The place where he once lived was just a really big house with houses inside the big house. He lived there with almost ALL of his extended family. And ALL were prejudiced AGAINST LGBTQ+. He could remember his second cousin calling him, “protector of gays” when he ‘talked back’ to his great uncle for ‘rebuking the sinners.’ He said that he was only being a decent human being by ‘protecting the gays.’ Honestly, he didn’t care if anyone fights over that topic. It was none of his business. But his great uncle went as far as calling gays, “broken in the head,” and “unloved and unlovable.”
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Pay him no mind. He could hear the distant voice whisper to him. But he was unbridled and rebuked his great uncle in a nonchalant way.
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It wasn’t hard for him to adapt to his current situation. After getting up, he went to the mirror to look at his figure. He recalled the author’s description of this ‘Avi,’ and remembered Avi as a feminine boy. Surprisingly, what he saw in the mirror was a normal-looking boy. In fact, Avi looked a little like himself. He was dressed in a blue shirt with pyjamas. His looks were still above average. He lifted his shirt to see that the Transmigration God let him keep his 4-pack! He was in high hopes that the Transmigration God also let him keep his muscular calves as he lifted his pyjamas. But, to his dismay, his legs looked like Avi’s–weirdly feminine. He was so distraught that he exclaimed with an, “ugh…”
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“Fuck me,” he whispered. Maybe fate was an asshole, after all.
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…
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Chapter 3: Day number one: wow school…
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Avi lingered in the bathroom in front of the mirror, cursing the author of the book for giving the original Avi such weak legs when he heard his grandma at the door. “Avi dear? Are you ok? You’re taking so long. You’re going to be late!”
Avi hurriedly lifted his trousers, buttoned his shirt, put on his vest and jacket then went outside. He saw his grandma hanging the clothes in the backyard and shouted as he picked up his stuff, “I’ll be off!” he dashed outside the house.
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Avi fiddled with the bag strap. He knew he could die if he continues acting like a jerk to Laurence. “Shit. I shouldn’t have written that. What if he actually kills me? No doubt he found out that I’m not the original Avi. Damn, I miss my old body. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
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Inside, he was panicking but outside, he was smiling at the students at the school gate. “Fuck. I am so screwed.” he thought.
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—---
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He shuffled his way to his seat, trying to fit in with the rest of the students. In the novel, if he could remember, Laurence was in the same class as him. Laurence’s seat was near the entrance while his was next to the window. He tried to change things up and sat at the farthest seat from his original seat in the novel. This time, he sat in the chair next to the hallway, so he could see the classroom from across the hall. He threw his bag on the seat and the first thing he did was sleep.
(random scene idea)
[Scene: in camping looking at the night sky
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Laurence: *takng fotos of sky*
Avi: cool camera
Laurence:...
Avi:is that what u used to stalk me?
Laurence: It wasn’t you that I was stalking
Avi: not until a month ago, u didnt
Laurence: Why dont you just shut the fuck up? Just bring him back.
Avi: I’d love to but I can’t And even if I can, I won’t
Laurence: …
Avi: …
Laurence: …
Avi: …
Laurence: Didn’t u say u never wanted this life?
Avi: Hey, look. I don’t know either, ok?
Avi: It’s true, I just want to get the fuck out of here without killing Avi.
Laurence: *scoffs, rolls eyes, continues taking pics* yeah, so y r u still here. Do what u want.
What do I really want anyway? Yes, I truly want to stay here. But sometimes what we want isn’t what we need.
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Avi: *stands up* you’re such a fuck-up ass jerk. I’ll leave, fine. *mumbles* I was just making sure u don’t freeze to death, fucking idiot, going outside with no jacket.]
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