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On his 20th birthday, Quackity woke up feeling overly warm. The air around him seemed to burn as he jerked upright, taking a deep breath of panic. He breathed in and out quickly, finding no relief from the heat as he scrambled out of his bed, tangling himself in his sheets and slamming onto the ground. His head spun as he stared at the ceiling, finally processing two things.
One, the warmth wasn’t hurting him. Two, this wasn’t his room.
The room he was in, honestly, looked like a teen boy’s bedroom. The walls were a soft peachy orange except for one accent wall, black with flames painted coming up from the floor. The bed - a simple twin size, not the queen Quackity was used to - had the same flame motif, a plain black bedspread with sheets that were patterned with flames. It felt like being in a cool villager’s house in Animal Crossing. He let his head tilt to the side, looking at the desk and bookcase shoved against the wall. They were both painted bright orange, a row of photos lined up on the desk that he couldn’t quite make out. The bookcase was a small one, the top covered in figurines and collectible stuffed animals. The shelves were crammed with books, textbooks on the top shelf and the two bottom shelves filled with thinner fiction novels.
The door flung open and Quackity choked down a scream at the literal demon looming over him. Skin pitch black, eyes a glowing white void, with long wicked horns and dressed in robes that looked cut from darkness, the demon hurried into the room to… scoop him up protectively, placing him back on the bed.
“Sapnap, that scared me! Don’t do that! What are you doing up so early on a weekend anyways? It’s barely 8!” The demon’s voice was shockingly soft as he fussed over Quackity, straightening out his shirt and patting down his hair. Quackity blinked, processing the name Sapnap, then looked down at himself.
His skin was pale - not that Quackity was terribly dark either, but paler - and his fingertips ended in a gradient to black, his nails long and sharp. Hair fell forward over his shoulder, a familiar shade of black but much longer than Quackity’s was, and he raised one hand to feel it. It was soft and on the top of his head, he felt two short horns.
“Oh,” he said as everything clicked into place, unsurprised when his voice sounded different than he was used to. Deeper, but not all that deep. Slightly scratchy.
Nearly everyone in the world had a soulmate, if not more than one. They didn’t know who they were, if the relationship would be romantic or platonic, or any details about their soulmate. All they knew was that when the youngest person in the soulmate bond turned 20, then all people involved in the bond would switch bodies for a day. They had 24 hours to collect details of their soulmate’s life or to leave behind a message of their own for their soulmate to find.
Quackity looked up at the demon looking down at him, concern creasing his brow. Awkwardly, he lifted a hand and waved, the movement rendered unfamiliar with the added weight of his long nails. “Uh… I think I’m your… son’s? Your son’s soulmate?”
There was a beat of silence then the demon’s face lit up in sheer delight. He offered forward a hand and Quackity took it.
“Oh my goodness! Hello! I’m so sorry for manhandling you there, oh my gosh, hello! You can call me Mr. Halo. Or Bad, Bad works!” The demon shook his hand enthusiastically. “Ah, Sapnap keeps his clothes in the drawers underneath his bed, so you can find an outfit there! He wears a lot of black, I hope that’s alright. I’ll make us some breakfast! Happy birthday, by the way, I assume it’s your 20th?”
“Yeah,” Quackity said, a bit dazed at the rush of words. Usually, he’d be able to keep up easily, but he was still wrapping his head around waking up in a strange bed in a strange body. Bad ruffled his hair then swept out of the room. Quackity could see a long spaded tail flicking back and forth like a happy dog’s as the door closed behind him. He pulled himself to his feet, tripping immediately when he noticed the weight at the end of his spine. As he crashed back to the floor, catching himself with more grace this time, he lamented his lack of wings.
His soulmate was clearly some sort of demon hybrid, from the nails and the horns and the tail that Quackity could now feel, winding around like it had a mind of its own. Quackity was a shapeshifter and already, he felt extremely out of his element to not be able to just wish himself into existence a pair of wings. Though he usually put them away to sleep, his golden duck wings were a point of pride for him. It was unnatural to not feel their weight against his back.
He shuffled around the room as he adjusted to a different gait. Quackity was clumsy enough in his day to day life without having to learn how to have a tail. Eventually he got the hang of moving it, holding it up against his back to almost mimic where his wings would be, and that helped the weight distribution a bit. He pulled on a baseball cap, a white tee, and ripped black skinny jeans, wrote out his full name, phone number, and apartment address on a sticky note he found in the bright orange desk, and followed his nose to the scent of breakfast downstairs.
Sapnap woke up around noon on Saturday, shivering. He bundled himself deeper in his blankets, trying to set his fingers alight to warm himself. Nothing happened. His eyes slid open as he tried again. The darkness he was cocooned in didn’t change in the slightest. Frustrated, he sat up, letting the blankets pool around his lap, and promptly shrieked when he realized his hands weren’t his own. The long slender fingers were uncalloused, his nails painted a bright purple, and there was no black smudge against his finger tips. He was ready for his tail to start thrashing in distress, but after a second, he realized he didn’t even have a tail anymore. Disorientated, he dragged himself out of bed, wheeling around the room.
It was an absolute mess. The closet stood open, showing piles of clothing heaped on the floor. His bedroom door was ajar, a hanging rack off of the door empty with shower towels on the floor instead. Two desks were shoved against each other on the other end of the room, both covered in a slew of notebooks and loose paper. A laptop sat on the right one, open and whirring faintly, which made Sapnap twitch. He crossed the room and shut it down without thinking, putting the poor thing out of its misery.
“What fucking monster keeps their laptop on overnight?” he muttered dourly, turning to face the rest of the room. He froze when he made eye contact with a mirror, startled by the sight in front of him.
He was human - looked human, at least - with fluffy brown hair and dull brown eyes. He tilted his head and they seemed to flash purple, blue, then settled back to their dull brown. An odd shiver ran down Sapnap’s spine and he shuffled closer to the mirror. He was shirtless, freckles scattered across his cheeks and his chest, and he wore loose sleep pants that were patterned with cartoons he didn’t recognize. His ears were pierced and he raised a hand to feel the plain black stud he had in, once again noticing the purple polish on his nails.
Embarrassingly late, he realized that he was in his soulmate’s body, standing a few inches taller than he was used to. He had assumed his soulmate was younger than him, as his 20th birthday had gone by earlier that year, but the body in front of him seemed a few years older. They had at least one other soulmate then, or his soulmate looked old for his age. He hummed thoughtfully at that, exploring around the room to find clothes to pull on.
His closet was a mess of bright colors and patterns that made Sapnap wince. He struggled for a full ten minutes to put together a neutral outfit, eventually settling on a pair of loose white jeans and a dark red sweater. His soulmate’s desks weren’t much better to navigate. He puzzled over the odd ramblings scattered across the papers for a while, trying to work out what they meant. They were different snippets of stories, written like they were diary entries but spanning too many centuries for that to be feasible. Unless his soulmate was immortal, but considering how human he looked, that didn’t seem likely.
An author, then. His soulmate was an author. Cool.
His soulmate seemed to live alone, the rest of the house quiet as he made his way out of the bedroom. Though he hardly needed to, he pushed his hair back with a wire headband he had found, more for familiarity than any real purpose. He peered out the front door once he found it, trying to get a sense for the life his soulmate lived.
A llama looked back at him from just outside the door. Sapnap startled back, eyes going wide as it grumbled at him. The animal looked down and Sapnap followed its gaze, looking at the giant bucket of oats by his feet. He reached down to grab the handle and it brayed, an answering call further away from the house responding.
As he pushed out the front door and promptly got rushed by three eager llamas, he looked around the property. The house was set on the edge of a large fenced-in field, two stalls built a few yards away from the house. Besides a single dirt road, the property was surrounded by woods, making the ranch feel completely isolated. Sapnap looked around wearily, patting one of the animals on the neck as it nuzzled into him. As much as he wanted to push the animal away instinctively, he also didn’t want to ruin his soulmate’s bond with his pets.
So his soulmate was an author who was also some llama freak. Okay.
He put the bucket on the ground and left the trio to it, re-entering the house and walking around. He found the kitchen, blinking at the large fish tank that bubbled against the wall. A red and white tropical fish swam in circles around the tank, a tuxedo cat watching the movement closely from the kitchen counter. It looked back at him, mewing softly, and Sapnap walked over to scratch behind its ears. It leaned into his touch with a purr then hopped off the counter, slinking over to its food bowl and batting at it. Sapnap sighed, rummaging through the kitchen to find cat food and fish food.
On one of the cabinets, there was a dry erase board with a list of tasks:
Feed llamas - one bucket of oats.
Refill bucket of oats for next morning.
Feed Hutt - five flakes, twice a day.
Feed Rutabaga - one bowl, twice a day.
Call Mom, every Tuesday.
Buy groceries, every Friday.
Sapnap began checking off the list with one of the hanging markers, scanning over the other sticky notes dotted around the cabinets. His soulmate seemed forgetful, a million notes to himself for things Sapnap wouldn’t think twice about. He had notes on people’s phone numbers and exactly who they were to him. Reminders to eat, reminders of his favorite foods, reminders of where food was. A reminder to clean the dry erase board every night so he wouldn’t think things were done the next morning. A reminder to kiss Rutabaga on the head. Another two reminders to eat.
It was sweet in a weird way, holding his attention as he filled the cat’s food bowl and sprinkled flakes into Hutt’s fish tank. Sapnap put together a sandwich and ate as he wandered around the living room. It was simple but luxurious, a large TV on the wall, a plush couch, small knick knacks lining the window sills. He settled into the couch, flicking the TV on for the time being.
If his soulmate was as isolated as he seemed, Sapnap wouldn’t have much of a chance at socializing today. Might as well have a slow start to his day before he gave in and called his dad or Dream just to find someone to talk to.
Karl woke up to the weight of another person against his back, an arm slung over his waist. The smell of smoke hung in the air as he sucked in a deep breath, anxiety settling under his skin. The man behind him seemed to notice him tensing up, the arm being lifted and the bed creaking as whoever it was got up.
“Happy birthday, baby,” he greeted through a yawn and Karl sat up slowly. It was easy enough to piece together what had happened, from the birthday wishes to the fact that he seemed smaller than he usually was. His eyes felt off, as if his field of vision was shortened, and he shook his head as if it would get rid of the sensation.
“Good morning,” he replied meekly and the man glanced back at him, raising an eyebrow.
“You’re talking awfully soft.” He stepped back to the bed and ran a hand through Karl’s hair, ruffling up the locks. Karl realized, as some fell over his eyes, that his hair was now an inky black. As he raised a hand to push the bangs out of the way, he saw his skin was a light tan, distracting him for a moment. “Are you sick or something? I can’t go out to the store right now for medicine, Quackity, I gotta get to work.”
“No, I’m fine,” Karl said, clearing his throat. He tried to think of what to say for a moment, then held up a hand to shake. “Uh. I’m Karl.”
He finally made eye contact with the other man as he frowned down at him. The man was tall - probably taller than Karl was normally, looming over him with his decreased height - with curly brown hair and dark eyes. There were a few gray streaks in his hair, standing out starkly, and he wore a loose white tank top and black sweatpants. He pushed up his rounded glasses, not speaking still, and Karl shifted uncomfortably.
“I think I’m probably- Did you say Quackity? - Quackity’s soulmate,” Karl said after a long moment of silence. The man stared for another few seconds then turned on his heel, storming out of the room and slamming the door behind him. Karl winced as he pulled himself out of bed.
Okay. Five minutes in and he had already ruined his soulmate’s relationship. Good start.
The room he had woken up in was neat and tidy, a queen-sized bed with a nightstand on either side. They had a sliding glass door and a rickety-looking balcony against the far wall, overlooking a city that Karl didn’t recognize. The room was decorated sparsely, just two dressers side-by-side and a wide mirror above them. Karl approached it, looking at himself curiously.
As he realized, his soulmate was on the shorter end with a tan complexion and black hair framing his face. His irises were dark brown, nearly black, and he had a long scar running across one eyebrow down to his lip. Karl traced the scar with one finger. No wonder his vision felt off; he was blind in one eye. Hesitantly, he poked it, and his suspicions proved right. The scarred eye was gone, replaced with a glass one that simply matched the organic eye.
He dressed himself from what he assumed was his soulmate’s dresser from the smaller clothing size, putting on a navy blue sweatshirt and light washed jeans. He slipped on one of the beanies that were placed on the top of the dresser to keep his hair out of his eyes - eye - and left the room on light feet.
Despite his attempt at stealth, the apartment was small. He ran into his soulmate’s boyfriend immediately, turning the corner straight into the bathroom. The tall man was shaving despite a clear lack of facial hair, leaning over the sink with a troubled look, and Karl cleared his throat. He barely spared him a glance before going back to shaving.
“Wilbur,” he said, tone flat. Karl winced. “I need to get going soon.”
“I’m sorry,” he started and Wilbur waved him off.
“It’s not your fault that Quackity is an asshole.” Wilbur huffed, dropping his razor to the sink counter. He wiped his face off with a yellow washcloth while Karl just watched, following him like a lost duckling as he bustled past. Realizing he had a passive audience, he began monologuing to himself. “I was never good enough for him, you know? I always knew that. He would always remind me that as soon as he met his soulmate, he was done with me. And the worst part is, I can’t even blame him! Look at me!”
Wilbur stormed into the bedroom and turned to him dramatically, waving a hand over himself. Karl glanced him up and down.
“You’re very handsome.”
“Thank you.” Wilbur rolled his eyes and walked to the dresser, pulling out clothes. “I’m a mess. I’m just some divorced dad, working at a hot dog stand for a living, having to live off of his younger more successful boyfriend’s paychecks. I’m a wreck! No wonder he got sick of me! And now he’s gonna put me out on the street and I’ll probably have to move back in with my dad!”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh! Ohhh, I always knew this relationship wasn’t built to last, but I kept telling myself. I kept telling myself, maybe he doesn’t have a soulmate after all!” Wilbur took off his tank top, tossing it aside. Karl politely looked away as he pulled on a nicer button up shirt. “Maybe I’ll get to stay, maybe I'll get to keep Quackity, maybe someone won’t steal him away on his 20th!”
“Soulmates aren’t necessarily romantic,” Karl reasoned. Wilbur scoffed and he could hear fabric rustling as Wilbur changed his pants.
“I know that, of course I know that. My soulmate’s platonic. But Karl, you haven’t met Quackity. He’s a hopeless romantic to a stupid degree. Marrying his soulmate is his life goal, I never had a fucking chance. No matter how much I wanted one.” Wilbur walked out of the room and once again, Karl followed, unsure what else to do.
He led the way to the kitchen-dining room combo, digging through the cabinets to pull out a loaf of bread. He started making toast as Karl looked around. This room was just as minimal, a plain wooden table and matching chairs without much else. On the wall, a photo of Wilbur and a young fox hybrid hung from a nail. Karl looked at that as Wilbur paced the room, still muttering to himself.
“I bet I only have a week before Quackity throws me out. Even if I begged, he wouldn’t care. He just wouldn’t. He won’t need a roommate, he has his precious fucking soulmate, he probably won’t even live here anymore. Maybe if I’m lucky, he’ll keep paying the apartment ‘til the end of the contract, let me stay here…”
The toaster popped, drawing both of their eyes to it. Wilbur sighed, grabbing both slices right out of the toaster and handing one to Karl. He winced as the hot bread burned his finger tips but took a bite anyway, trying to be courteous.
“Quackity has the day off work, so you’re free to do whatever,” Wilbur said, crunching on his own toast. “I’ll be back around 4. If you’re still here, we can, I dunno. Do something. You’re my guest or whatever. There’s a nice park near here, Quackity likes feeding the ducks. I can show you the ropes before you steal the job of pea holder for me.”
“Yeah, okay,” Karl agreed awkwardly. Wilbur nodded, working through the rest of his toast like it was a speed-eating competition, then started for the front door.
“Bye.” He grabbed a jacket off the door hook and let the door slam after him, leaving a reverberating silence in his wake. Karl blinked after the door, the entire interaction still processing in his head. After a long moment, he sighed and finished his own toast, dragging his feet back to the bedroom.
He was going back to sleep. He didn’t have any of his usual responsibilities and even more so, he didn’t want anything to do with this day anymore.