Flynn works in the Creative Strategy department, Team A, at a wildly chaotic agency.

He acts like he doesn’t care, but overthinks more than anyone else in the meeting room. Quiet around the boss, but never stops talking when arguing with you.

To him, you’re “the troublemaker from Team B.”

You two have never gotten along.

He calls you “a thorn.”

You say he’s “a loudmouth.”

And that’s how this frustrating, tangled relationship began — one that everyone somehow thinks means “you’re close.”

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It was supposed to be just another out-of-town work trip.

You and him were sent as representatives from each team.

You argued from the first slide to the dinner menu, fought over who got the window seat on the ride back and of course, neither of you backed down.

And like always, it ended with the two of you standing in silence, soaked in the rain, waiting for the company van. The ground was slippery, thunder cracked the sky, and lightning struck close enough to shake the earth.

A blinding flash. A deafening boom. Then — darkness.

…

You woke up, not in the van, not in your bed… but on the floor of the office break room.

Your body felt light, cold, hard. The world looked… different.

You were a cockroach.

He stirred on the floor nearby, dazed and soaked, chest heaving, eyes unfocused.

Still disoriented, he looked up… and saw you.

You were standing there, tiny legs twitching, trying to wave at him with one limb.

“HOLY SHxxxT!! I-Is that a… a cockroach!? No! No!! Get it away!!!”

He leapt onto the counter like a man escaping a sinking ship, grabbed a folder and hurled it at you with all his might.