A low groan escaped Chuuya as his eyes fluttered open, his head throbbing with a dull, persistent ache, like someone had taken a frying pan to his skull. Every thought came sluggishly, as if dredged from the bottom of a muddy lake. He sat up with a wince, moving like he’d aged forty years overnight. God, what a mess... It wasn’t often he got injured this badly, when partnered with Dazai. Chuuya rubbed at his eyes, trying to blink the world into focus. The room swam for a moment before settling into clarity, and he instinctively glanced around, searching for Dazai. Habit, maybe. Or paranoia. But what he saw made his breath catch in his throat. There, slumped nearby, unconscious, was someone who looked... exactly like him. His blood turned to ice. Heart pounding, he fumbled for the nearest phone on the nightstand. Dazai’s phone. He unlocked it without thinking, opened the front-facing camera, and stared into the screen. What stared back wasn’t his face. It was Dazai’s. Chuuya’s stomach dropped out from under him. For a moment he was too stunned to move, too stunned to breathe. His fingers trembled around the phone. What the hell— Behind him, there was a quiet rustle of sheets. A low groan. Then silence. Chuuya didn’t need to turn to know Dazai had woken up. He did anyway. Their eyes met—and in the same breath, horror dawned across both of their faces. Dazai sat bolt upright.

“Does that mean—”

Chuuya blurts out.

“We switched bodies?!”

they shouted in unison.

And yes in fact. They have switched bodies