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Centuries have passed and nobody has since figured out the exact science behind soulmates. Many tests were done and none of them have yet to provide the answer to why people swapped bodies with their soulmates on their twenty-first birthday. It was an odd occurrence but was one society had soon grown to accept as life went on.
Scaramouche is an up-and-coming idol in the music industry. After being scouted at his high school talent show he’s grown up under the spotlights. His lack of school smarts didn’t take away from the fact that he was a musical genius. Despite being held back due to his sexuality and beliefs, he’s still consistently held his spot as one of the highest-selling artists of his generation.
Aether, on the other hand, was a student whose biggest struggle was passing his upcoming final exams. Despite the stress college brought him, he found solace in Scaramouche’s music. But, he was nearing the age of twenty-one and was stressed from possibly meeting his soulmate.
Every one in ten people didn’t have a soulmate, which was a pretty low statistic. Usually, the ones who didn’t have a soulmate would either find a partner with someone else who didn’t have one. That was not the fate Aether wanted.
Scaramouche didn’t give much of a fuck for soulmates, his true love was his music, as cheesy as that sounded. The thought that he was soon turning twenty-one barely crossed his mind. His manager had brought this up and suggested that they cancel the concert on that day in case he swapped bodies, but Scaramouche waved her off, insisting he didn’t have one. Why would the universe give someone as rude as him a soulmate to grow old with? Absurd.
So, the two of their reactions on the day of their birthdays were quite the opposite.
Aether awoke to his body sore and stiff. He reached up to untie his hair from his usual plaited braid but was surprised to not feel any hair. He rose, his body groaning in agony, as he looked down at himself. He put his hands in front of him, marveling at the large callused hands when he finally took in his surroundings. It was early morning, from what he could tell from the light streaming in and hitting the mirrors in the room, the wood below him was worn out. It was a dance studio.
Aether slowly turned to face the mirror, swallowing down his nerves when he saw the face of the man he’s been obsessed with for the past couple of years staring back at him.
He let out a scream, which only went higher when he realized it sounded nothing like him.
“Scaramouche, you can’t scream like that! It’ll ruin your voice!”
Aether turned to see a blonde-haired woman step into the dance studio, her hair disheveled as she tried to calm Aether down. Aether was just more freaked out now and was backing away from her until his back hit the cold mirror behind him.
“What’s your name?” she asked, her voice gentle, “I’m Jean, you’re currently in Scaramouche’s body.”
“It’s Aether,” he gulped, peeling himself off the mirror and making his way over to her.
A sheepish smile was on her face as she led him out of the studio and to a more comfortable space, which was presumably his soulmate’s dressing room. He let himself sink into a couch as Jean explained that day’s events to him. Much like how he showed himself online, Scaramouche didn’t give much care to soulmates. Aether had even gotten a phone to text him his personal number but received no answer.
Jean had sheepishly asked Aether to continue pretending to be Scaramouche for the day since they couldn’t afford to anger the fans who had bought expensive tickets for that night’s concert. Aether nodded his head along to the long list of activities that day, not knowing what he had gotten himself into.
On the other side of the city, Scaramouche was waking up with his neck stiff. He let out a loud groan as he vigorously rubbed at it, used to his body being sore when he felt a lock of hair. He slowly brought his hand back to him to see blonde strands through his fingers.
Well, shit.
He was seated on an uncomfortable desk chair, which was probably the cause of his painful neck. He seemed to be in a cluttered dorm room, there were papers scattered along the floor and the bed sheets were crumpled.
The phone on the desk dinged, the wallpaper of a blonde boy. Scaramouche picked it up and stared as the Face ID unlocked, showing him a reminder for an exam later that day. There was a text sitting at the top from his number on his actual phone.
XXX-XXX-XXXX
hi! looks like we’re soulmates :)
im aether! Im actually a big fan!
Read
Scaramouche didn’t bother to finish reading it, he cleared it before standing up to stretch. If the math notes on the desk indicated the upcoming exam, then Scaramouche had no chance of passing. His concert, or his soulmate’s, he still didn’t understand how all this worked, was the only thing he was worried about. But until then he needed to pass the time.
He pointedly ignored the mirror in the corner of the room as he threw on one of the hoodies lying on the floor, picking up the phone and following the instructions to get him to the exam room.
Aether grimaced as a makeup artist helped him put contacts in, seems Scaramouche didn’t have the best eyesight. It felt awkward and made him want to gauge his eyes out, but he plastered on a smile.
“So, just try to not be yourself?” Jean instructed, but it sounded like more of a question as she rushed around the room they were in. Before every concert, there was a meet and greet a couple of hours before for the buyers of the VIP tickets where fans would get to talk to Scaramouche, or in this case Aether. Videos of these fan meets always went viral since Scaramouche was never over the top sweet to his fans, refusing to make cute faces for them and keeping to his true personality.
Aether was the complete opposite.
It felt rather nice to have all the attention, and he couldn’t help but smile as fans came up to him in a row as they asked him questions, and got him to sign their albums. Jean had shown him how to plagiarize Scaramouche’s signature, but it still looked pretty wonky after a couple of hundred times. He found himself posing for pictures and making kissy faces at the camera much to Jean’s dismay.
The fans all held looks of confusion adorning their faces, but most of them went along with it.
The fan meeting had ended and #SCARAISNTABITCH?! was trending on Twitter. Aether couldn’t tell if this was a good thing, but Jean sighed and said any publicity was good publicity.
Whoever decided to mix up numbers and letters into math deserved to be in the fiery pits of hell.
Scaramouche bit the back of his pen as he filled in another answer he was positive was incorrect. It had taken him twenty minutes to even find the exam room, so he missed part of the exam and got a stink-eye from the professor. He filled in his name on the exam sheet in pen before realizing his mistake and had to scribble it out. He was a mess.
He fought the urge to pull out his phone to cheat, he wasn’t that reckless. Instead, he just filled in the letters on the exam sheet in random order. The lack of skills he held for the exam sitting before him reminded him of his high school years. They were filled with stressful nights before exams where no amount of studying could get him to pass. He was thankful he was talented in music, otherwise, he’d probably be on the street.
The timer soon rang and the professor came around collecting the tests and scanning the codes right before them, handing out their scores as the students filed out of the classroom. Some held smiles and others held tears. Mostly tears.
Scaramouche was late so he was last in line, he took his sheet and wasn’t surprised to see a familiar zero at the top, but it seems the professor was since he was called back right after.
“Is everything alright, Aether?” the professor spoke, pulling off his glasses as he crossed his arms. He seemed young to be teaching a college class.
“Aether?” the professor repeated, snapping Scaramouche out of his trance. He wasn’t used to being called a different name.
“Yes?” Scaramouche replied, the voice sounded light on his tongue.
“What’s up with you today?” the professor spoke, Scaramouche noticed his nametag read Sir Albedo, “You usually pass every exam with flying colors.”
This would not be good for his guilty conscience. He felt awkward explaining the situation, but it wasn’t that abnormal. He’s seen many people talk about their experiences online, there was even a Reddit forum called r/soulmatestories with ten million members, him included. He liked laughing at other people’s pain.
“I’m not Aether,” he swallowed, “I’m his soulmate, we swapped bodies.”
The word soulmate didn’t sit right with him, he didn’t believe in any of that crap. He wasn’t doing this to help Aether, he was just trying to pass time until his concert. Yeah, that was a valid reason.
“Oh, I see,” the professor mused, his lips tilting into a smile, “I remember my experience, I’ll let Aether know he can retake the exam. Have a good birthday.”
Scaramouche gave an awkward nod before leaving the exam building.
What a great start to his day.
Aether was trembling a mere minute before he had to be on stage. The sheen of sweat shining on his face was washing off the makeup the crew had so carefully constructed and he felt guilty but couldn’t stop. Earlier that day he had practiced a couple of dance moves just to see if he could and the body felt awkward and stiff under his control so he ultimately gave up. However, he was full of regret after seeing how large the auditorium was.
He didn’t know why he was so shocked, he’s seen videos of Scaramouche’s concerts online since he was always too broke to attend and the seats were always packed. But seeing it in person was jarring.
There was an array of lights from the lightsticks the fans waved around, and he had to squint to read the posters from where he was backstage. They read things like ‘HAVE MY KIDS!’ and FUCK ME PLEASE!’
“Alright, it’s time,” Jean spoke, her voice loud from the headset she wore that went through the microphone clipped to Aether’s ear. Aether sighed, clenching his fist as the stage ascended beneath him and an opening from above slid across. The crowd’s cheers were deafening as he surfaced. The lights all went off and his back was facing towards them, which gave him an extra moment to collect himself before he heard the sound specialist in his ear telling him to start.
He knows the choreography by heart from the hours he’s spent watching Scaramouche’s dances online. He started decently, the voice exiting his mouth sounding angelic. But, singing and dancing at the same time was harder than it looked. His foot slipped and his voice broke as he caught himself on one of the backup dancers who gently pushed him back up. They’d all been told of the situation and were trying their best to not run into him.
The music and cheers became too much for him, the dancers whirring past him left and right causing him to cover his ears and signal for the music to stop. It was overwhelming and he was an idiot to think he could pull this off.
He awkwardly cleared his throat as he tapped the mic, wincing at the ring it let out.
“Hello,” his voice drawled, the crowd greeting him back, “I have a confession to make.”
He sighed as he fiddled with his sleeves, he looked up at himself on the screens surrounding the arena and was surprised at how unfamiliar Scaramouche looked with Aether controlling his body.
“I’m not Scaramouche,” he stated, “It’s his birthday today and this is his soulmate, Aether.”
This garnered a gasp from the crowd and a sheepish smile grew on Aether’s face.
“I’m actually a fan of his and tried my best to perform for you guys, but I ultimately failed. I hope you can forgive me,” he swallowed, not looking forward to any angry fans he’d have to deal with.
Scaramouche is watching this trainwreck from Aether’s body backstage. He had to practically claw his way into the arena since none of his staff believed it to be him until Jean came and vouched for him. It hurt to see his fans not get the concert they had hoped for so before he could second guess himself he ran on to the stage.
He squinted against the bright lights as he walked to where his body was standing. It was surreal to see such an out-of-character expression on his face when he came beside himself.
“Let me handle this,” he spoke, the voice in his throat more docile than usual, as he grabbed the microphone from his body’s hands.
He signals for the music to start again and the crowd starts cheering again once they realized what was happening. Scaramouche couldn’t let Aether stand awkwardly in his body so he grabbed Aether’s hand, or well his hand, and dragged him to the center of the stage.
The slow melody of the song came out of the speakers and he sang with his new voice. It didn’t sound the same but it would have to do. He couldn’t hit the notes for his usual songs but a slower-paced one was one Scaramouche could manage in any body. He grabbed Aether by the waist and brought him into an embrace.
His brain picked up the cue as the note he was keeping an ear out for playing out. Suddenly, Aether was moving. His arms flailing above him as Scaramouche guided him through the dance. The grip on his waist tightened as he was lifted into the air, his legs pointing out as the crowd spun around him.
Aether was back on the ground, his feet moving in sync with Scaramouche’s as they moved across the stage. Foot forward. Back. To the right.
A hand grabbed his own and he was swung backward, dipped low, the blinding white lights adorning the arena’s ceiling momentarily blinding him as the tips of his hair, or technically Scaramouche’s grazed the floor, His own face was mere inches away from his as their movements skidded to a stop. The music faded out as they were both panting, out of breath as Scaramouche pulled him from his dipped position.
Laughter escapes Aether’s lips, or the ones he was in control over, as Scaramouche finishes off the song, a small smile growing on his lips.
The song came to an end, the last notes barely heard over the crowd screaming with all their worth. All the two males on stage could focus on was each other, hands still gripped together. Scaramouche couldn’t speak, Aether’s body wasn’t used to all that exertion.
They both felt a heat pool in their stomachs and their brain went fuzzy, static prickling their arms and raising the hair on the back of their necks. Both of their eyes slammed shut as the world around them spun, bile threatening to rise from their throats.
When Scaramouche opened his eyes he was finally staring at Aether, the real Aether. He had pointedly avoided mirrors all day, so the boy standing in front of him was surreal. Aether looked dazed and his eyes were trained on the ground as he struggled to find his footing, but Scaramouche was mesmerized.
It didn’t help that the sunlight streaming from the lights surrounding them was kissing Aether and blessing him with a beauty Aphrodite would admit defeat to.
The lights went off and the stage went down.
It was midnight and the staff were running around them, shocked at what had just happened. They had forgotten they both would switch back as soon as the clock struck twelve.
“I can finally talk to you,” Aether murmured, a hue of pink dusting his cheeks, “I’m Aether.”
“Scaramouche,” Scaramouche replied, which earned him a laugh out of Aether.
“I know,” Aether smiled, “I am a fan after all.”
“I don’t care for soulmates,” Scaramouche started, but quickly finished his thought once he saw the crestfallen look upon Aether’s face, “But this isn’t as bad as I thought.”
“I’m going to need five business days to process this,” Aether nervously spoke, removing his hand from Scaramouche’s grasp and sitting down on a chair a member of the staff had brought over, “I’m starstruck and my body is sore.”
“Take your time,” Scaramouche shrugged, moving to sit beside him, their legs touching.
“We have the rest of our lives to figure it out.”