I didn't want to delay my plans any longer, and I didn't plan to wake up later than usual, the following morning.
The second time waking up in someone else's life was different from the first.
The first time, there'd been confusion and panic and a horrible sinking feeling that the entire experience was nothing more than a deeply implausible delusion. The second time, I just... woke up.
That was it. I lay there and stared at the ceiling and, in my case, blinked. A simple, reflexive action that told my body 'I am conscious, though possibly not coherent.' And nothing more.
It occurred to me I'd experienced both my death and resurrection with startling lack of fanfare or self-reflection. At least, I assumed I must've died somewhere, sometime between my last moment of being Alex and my next of being Damien. Unless this was a case of dimensional body swap?
If that were the case, I mentally pressed F for OG Damien. I didn't know how he'd feel about my original world. He was likely a lamb among wolves. Though perhaps the lack of female attention would make up for any inadequacies. I suppose.
Mental self-flagellations aside, the obvious answer to this question of what precisely had happened seemed to be... well, fuck if I knew.
There was some greater magic or cosmic force or multiverse-shattering narrative design afoot, but that was as much speculation as the universe being created by a giant turtle and the moon being made from cheese and mayo. It wasn't something I had a great way of finding the answer to.
Nor would I spend any more mental power trying to find it.
I shuffled out of bed, surprisingly well-rested and eager to get my day started.
Another thing that I still didn't get used to was my face. I wasn't sure I was supposed to. There was a specific kind of cognitive dissonance in spending over twenty years with a perfectly average-looking set of features, and then suddenly having to contend with a level of visual attractiveness that didn't feel real.
I scrunched up my face, studied my reflection, looking at Damien as if we were two strangers in an elevator.
Morning.
Yeah.
I splashed water on my face and that was that.
...
Willow was already in the kitchen, reading something on a tablet with an intense expression of concentration that faltered slightly as she looked up and registered my approach.
"Good morning, dear..." She greeted, her attempt at retaining her focus clearly flagging as her eyes drifted away, off-centre, somewhere towards my left shoulder. "How're you feeling today?" She tried to sound even and unconcerned.
"Good morning to you, Mom." I grabbed a mug and helped myself to the burnt coffee, because I had the self-preservation instincts God gave a golden retriever and chose to address nothing. "I'm feeling a lot better. Where's Aunt Freya?"
"Conference call."
"She has a lot of those." I remarked idly, sitting across from her, and already finding a healthy pile of buttered bread slices and ham that were presumably meant for me, plus an assortment of fruits.
"She does." Willow nodded, taking a look at me.
I looked back, cheeks all puffed up with bread, my big ol' puppy eyes all innocent.
She cracked a small smile, before looking back at her tablet.
It was a relief that she could still look at me and smile like that. There were a handful of responses she could have had to her newly awoken son's extreme, borderline insubordinate lack of submissive behavior and obedience, but Willow hadn't gone off the deep end yet, and I hoped she would gradually get used to it.
"How did you sleep?" She asked, approximately thirty seconds later, which I believed were twenty-nine seconds of not being able to move past that single line of text she had been stuck on from the moment I walked down.
I pretended to consider it for a moment. "Fine." I nodded. "No more nightmares."
"Good." She made an agreeable sound. And by the glances she was throwing my way every second or third line on her tablet, I wondered if she was prodding to see if I had gone back to 'normal' or not. If a nightmare was what caused a drastic behavioral change, not having them should get her hopes up at least.
So, for her benefit, I carefully slowed my chewing, frowned slightly, and swallowed slowly. I didn't want to drive her up to the wall more than, well, necessary. But I wouldn't change my plans just because it inconvenienced someone. Still, I decided to meet her halfway, or a quarter of the way. I wiped my mouth. "I'm planning to sign up at the gym today. Wanna come with me?"
Willow's eyes jerked sharply upwards and to my face. "Damien, do you..." Her tone was mild, which was a relief. Then the concern kicked in. "I... I believe it is important that we talk at length about this before you go through with anything."
Ah, a last-ditch attempt at changing my bad. I almost felt bad for the woman. Maybe to her, me getting all sweaty and working up in a gym was the equivalent of a man's daughter insisting on doing OF.
I ate an entire apple slice and chewed at it methodically, because a few more bites made a much better cover for not answering her immediately.
"This morning is too early for the gym, no?"
Willow put the tablet down. Genuine concern flashed across her eyes, and I had to sigh and lament this odd world of this even odder society, if my mother got this frazzled and emotional about me going to a gym.
"Do you really hate the idea that much, Mom?"
Willow immediately took a breath, steepled her hands, and straightened herself in her chair.
"My answer does not depend on what I like or dislike." She said finally. "Your safety comes before any other concern."
"Mom, it's a gym, I'm not breaking into the vivisection clinic and announcing my plan for animal genocide. For Christ's sake, you've heard the phrase: stay fit and healthy."
Surely, staying fit and healthy was a universal thing in this world too. Male or female.
"Yes, but... Damien. I don't want you to think that I'm trying to force a specific opinion or lifestyle on you." She said cautiously. "But this is too abrupt of a decision to make when you might not be in your best state of mi—I mean, there are also other options available to you. If you wish so much to get in shape, why not do it at home? At a comfortable pace?"
There was a hopeful lilt to her tone.
"I've thought about it." I admitted. "It's probably the smarter choice, yeah? But that's not why I'm going."
Willow's expression briefly flickered. "May I ask you what the reason is then?"
Well, I could've explained everything, but why waste all that brainpower?
"A lot of stuff, really, not necessarily a specific one." I reached up to scratch an itch on my jaw. "I want the experience for one, that I can't get from the comfort of home. Following that logic, I would have no need to grocery shop if I can have someone deliver it to me. And in a gym, I could work with actual trainers, they could help me design a custom routine, tell me how to get my form right, guide and advise me..."
"W-We could hire you a personal trainer." She pointed out.
"A professional trainer that would also be a... woman?" I looked at her, cocking my head slightly. "That would be with me, likely in my room, with us being alone, wouldn't you object to that?"
"I would supervise it."
"Still."
A longer pause.
Willow eventually glanced aside, swallowing slightly. "That... I understand it sounds a bit hypocritical when I put it like that."
I gave my mother the slightest, smallest smile. "It's okay, I get it. It's a new thing for you as well. I'm not trying to make things difficult. I'm telling you all this so that I can make an informed decision. I also want to experience being in a normal place with people around me. And I've read good reviews about this gym, and the photos show a very nice environment. I also think that being around other people, even if we don't talk, is something that'll help me feel more normal, more connected."
Willow stared at me. She seemed to be weighing the pros and cons of this decision, her face a mixture of emotions. I'd been honest, or at least an approximation of it. Honesty wasn't always the best policy, but an honest-sounding explanation was often better than a weak-sounding lie.
But that didn't mean my answer was completely accepted. Willow was taking baby steps towards accepting my decision.
"So, you're coming with me?"
Willow's sigh was heavy and long. "Alright." She finally conceded. "I'll come with you. But we're setting some ground rules."
"Name them."
"First, you stick with me at all times. No wandering off."
"Alright."
"Second, you don't talk to anyone unless I say it's okay. If someone approaches you, you refer them to me. No exceptions."
"Makes sense."
"Third, you're going to wear something less... revealing."
I looked down at my plain t-shirt and jeans. "You think this is too revealing?"
"I think a plain black turtleneck and a pair of baggy sweatpants would be better. You have some, don't you?"
"...I think I might have a turtleneck somewhere."
"Good. We'll find it."
And find it we did. After scouring my closet and rummaging through old trinkets and useless piles of old clothing, we'd dug up a decent example of a manly man's neck warmer, with three zippers and multiple pockets to hide stuff in, as well as a pair of black, loose, very baggy, but rather stylish sweats.
"Perfect. It's both secure and fashionable."
Willow was a little too happy, not knowing the kind of trends men sported nowadays and how these particular items were slightly on the low-key, as in, the grandma style. Not a fashion icon.
I said nothing though, happy she wasn't lecturing or probing further or suggesting a full-face helmet with a HUD integrated.
It was also amusing watching my usually so calm and collected mom be flustered about me stepping out of the house, to the gym or not. ‘Sorry, but I’ve got to get these squishy limbs of mine as hard as steel!’
I imagined that, to her, this had been another step up a high and rickety ladder made of loose wood and cracked planks leading to a thousand-feet fall, and she'd finally stumbled onto a somewhat stable piece of plank.
And, for what it was worth, there was an excellent chance she was right.
"Alright then..." I stretched my arms and grabbed a nearby, decently sized leather shoulder bag, tossing in some toiletries and a hair-dryer, though the chances of me staying behind to shower at the gym were slim.
I figured if things were going according to schedule, Willow would be fine with a rinse and a towel off, but I still thought bringing extra clean-up essentials couldn't hurt.
I was surprised by how many different beauty products I already owned.
Most of it was 'For Men', with the words engraved and etched on everything. I frowned in disgust and immediately put those things back to their places, to be thrown away at a later date.
A spare of clothes was obviously a given.
Willow watched this whole process, half-concerned, half-entertained, before taking it upon herself to gather anything else she thought I'd forget and could cause problems in the unlikely event someone became handsy.
A pepper spray and taser went into the mix.
I stared at those items and blinked slowly, because even the idea felt mildly absurd to me, especially for something as mundane as a trip to the gym.
I didn't even know if those things would be allowed.
"Mom, you can leave them behind. It's the gym, not a brothel."
Willow's response was to jam the two items down further until I had no choice but to close the zip before the damn thing exploded.