Chapter Text
I never knew I could be this happy.
As I watched the love of my life walk down the aisle, wearing her mother’s wedding dress, I could swear there were genuine, not at all manly tears in my eyes. She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, and I couldn’t wait to be her husband.
Truth be told, when I met her, I didn’t think marriage was in the cards for me. At least, not for a few years. Befitting an eighteen year old, the longest relationship I had ever held down lasted about nine months, and I had all kinds of plans to go to school and get a career going before I wanted to settle down. That all changed the second my whirlwind of a girl climbed- quite literally- into my life.
It took us quite a while to get here. A few years, surgeries, threats on our lives, the concept of eternity looming over us at all times, and one of us falling through another dimension and landing in a nonsensical, cliched work of supernatural fiction.
But before I get to our happily ever after, I have to go back to the beginning. All the way back to when I got run over by Stephenie Meyer. At least, I can only assume it was Stephenie Meyer, since one minute I was walking down the sidewalk, minding my own business and getting ready to cross the street, the next, a woman driving a black sedan with the license plate “TWIHARD” came barreling towards me, leaving me with no opportunity to get away. The last thing I felt before my world went dark was crushing pain all across my body.
=
Everything was black for a long time. When I finally came to, light was the first thing to catch my attention. Of course, it was- I always got woken up by light before anything else. I reflexively kept my eyes closed. Whatever time it was, I still needed more sleep. As that thought drifted across my mind, it all came back to me. I had been hit by a car. That light was probably from the fluorescent bulbs they use at every hospital. Somehow, I was alive, and nothing hurt- I guess they had given me the good stuff. As my senses came back to me, the dull hum of machines reached my ears. Probably the air conditioning, and whatever was keeping me stable. No big deal. Except… there was no rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor. I let myself wake up a little bit more, hoping that the noise would come through as I came to my senses and praying that I wouldn’t get hit with the feeling of multiple broken bones. Finally, when I heard and felt nothing new, I opened my eyes and took in the plane cabin.
Wait. Why the fuck was I on a plane? Frantically, I twisted and turned around in my seat to confirm that yep, I was currently sitting in row 18, seat B, which somehow I could see without my glasses. How exactly could I see without my glasses? I gently slapped my face to make absolutely certain that they weren’t there, and when my hand made contact with skin and eye instead of metal and lens I took in the situation in full. I wasn’t in a bed, I wasn’t in any pain, I probably wasn’t even in California. I had been run over by a reckless young adult fiction author, and now I was on a plane. I should have been in the hospital, with my parents waiting on me to wake up and get my dark brown square-framed Armani Exchange glasses back on my face.
Panic filled my chest, and I felt sick. The kind of deep, pulling nausea that gives you chills and a tension headache against your temples. I needed to figure this out.
I saw what had to have been my backpack (except it wasn’t, it was a black backpack, sure, but it wasn’t my black backpack) in the legroom in front of me and opened it. Bingo. A wallet, front and center. And front and center in that wallet was a driver’s license. Isabella Marie Swan’s driver’s license, to be exact.
Bella fucking Swan? Last time I checked, I was not Bella Swan. I had never been Bella Swan. I was the farthest thing from Bella Swan. Bella Swan is a fictional character and I was just a teenaged boy who had read her story. No way. No fucking way. There is no possible way that this could be real. This was not real.
I closed the wallet, counted to 10, shot up a prayer to the God I stopped believing in when I was 14 (just in case) and opened it again, hoping for once to look at my own face.
Isabella Marie Swan, born September 13, 1987, sex: female, five feet four inches tall, brown eyes stared right back up at me.
Well, god damnit. Even in a dream, I was still stuck as a woman. Because this had to be a dream, or some kind of opiate high from whatever drugs they were giving me at the hospital. Normal human men, even trans men, don’t magically enter the Twilight universe after getting hit by a car. I must be in some kind of coma. Yeah, that’s it. A coma. I was thinking about Twilight when I got ran over, so that’s what I’m dreaming about. This is totally an Ash’s Coma situation.
Fuck it, if this was what I was dealing with, I had to see if I was really her.
I looked in the mirror, and a teenaged girl stared back at me. I was used to seeing a mostly androgynous guy with a roundish face, short black hair, glasses, grey eyes, freckles, and an appearance that looked more-or-less full grown. Instead, she had wide, dark brown eyes, prominent cheekbones, a thin nose, and full lips. Long, dark brown hair framed her heart-shaped face and narrow jaw. Disappointingly narrow jaw. If I had acquired a new dream body, it could have been one with a face that passed as male a little better. My body however, slender with a small bust and not too many curves, was an upgrade. I was even a little taller, which was not just an upgrade, but a major upgrade. I wrinkled my- her?- nose as I took in what I was wearing.
A white, lacy, sleeveless shirt, jeans, and black sneakers made up my outfit, one I clearly didn’t choose myself, and a silver watch with a brown strap sat on my left wrist. I quickly switched it over. I sighed, looking at my now empty right wrist. In my real life, I always wore a black Legend of Zelda bracelet. It signified everything the series had gotten me through and a reminder that it would all turn out okay eventually.
…I could have used it at that moment.
Unfortunately, my self-reflection was interrupted by rude pounding on the bathroom door.
“Sorry!” I called out, wincing at how high my voice came out. I quickly opened the door and scurried back to my seat. I exhaled to myself once I buckled in again. This was a trip. I rolled through the first parts of the Twilight book (that I could even remember) in my head until I was interrupted, again, by the beeping of the overhead monitor and electric hum of the speakers. The flight attendant’s voice was almost eerily chipper
“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen! We’ve now begun our final descent into Seattle-Tacoma International Airport so at this time, please return your seats to their upright and locked positions. Remember to obey the fasten seatbelt sign until the captain turns it off, and we’ll be on the ground in approximately 15 minutes.”
Well, shit. I guess it was go time.