How is David Dealing?

You carefully extract yourself from beside Clara's sleeping form, moving with deliberate slowness to avoid waking her. The sheet whispers against your skin as you slip free, standing naked in the amber-lit bedroom. Your body feels simultaneously familiar and foreign—the weight distribution all wrong after days of inhabiting Mia's petite frame. You stumble slightly, catching yourself against the nightstand.

You grab a pair of David's pajama bottoms from a chair and pull them on, cinching the drawstring tight. They hang low on your hips despite your efforts. The cool air raises goosebumps across your chest as you pad barefoot toward the door, casting one last glance at Clara. Her auburn hair fans across the pillow, her breathing deep and even.

The hallway is dark save for a thin line of light spilling from beneath the kitchen door. You follow it, drawn to the soft clink of glass against countertop. When you push the door open, you find David sitting at the breakfast bar, a tumbler of amber liquid cupped between his hands. He's wearing boxers and a faded university t-shirt, his expression distant until he registers your presence.

"Can't sleep?" he asks, voice rough around the edges.

"Wanted to check on you," you reply, still startled by the deeper timbre of your voice. "This is... a lot."

David snorts softly, lifting his glass in a mock toast. "That's putting it mildly." He gestures toward the whiskey bottle on the counter. "Want one?"

You nod, leaning against the refrigerator as he pours two fingers into a clean glass and slides it across to you. The familiar burn of expensive Scotch hits your throat—a sensation you haven't experienced since becoming Mia.

"So," David says after a moment of weighted silence. "You're back."

"I am."

"And Clara's still here."

"She is."

David runs a hand through his disheveled hair. "Look, I'm glad you're you again. It was fucking weird watching my flatmate transform into..." he trails off, gesturing vaguely.

"Into a woman you were attracted to?" you finish for him.

His eyes snap to yours, a flicker of discomfort crossing his features before he masks it with a wry smile. "Yeah, that. Though to be fair, she—you—were objectively hot."

"Thanks, I guess?" You take another sip of whiskey, welcoming the warmth spreading through your chest.

"This doesn't have to be awkward," David says, though his rigid posture suggests otherwise. "We're both adults. Strange shit happened. We move on."

"And Clara?"

David's expression softens slightly. "That's between you two. I saw how she looked at you—at Mia. That wasn't just physical."

You nod, processing this. "I think I might still have feelings for her too, as bizarre as that sounds."

"Nothing's bizarre after what we just experienced," David replies with a hollow laugh. He drains his glass and sets it down with finality. "I'm going to crash on the couch tonight. Give you two some space."

As he moves to leave, you catch his arm. "David, are we good?"

He hesitates, then nods once. "We're good, Matt. Just... maybe let's not mention the jacuzzi part to anyone else, yeah?"

You chuckle despite yourself. "Deal."

05:00 | Tuesday 5 August 2025 | Kitchen