Chapter 1.1: Truck-kun Looks Real Different

The initial possession hits him like a truck. One second he’s chasing after a woman like some kind of bloodthirsty human-buffalo hybrid, crashing through underbrush like it’s barely there. The next second, he’s me and I’m him and we’re both screaming on the inside. He’s suddenly got an entire different person in his brain and I… I finally have a body again. I don’t think it’s been very long and it’s definitely not the right one at all, but it’s a body! A real and actual body that experiences time and touch and taste and—

And that’s about when I realized he’s horny. Like really horny. And chasing—

That’s my girlfriend! Angie!

The thought helpfully fizzles up like carbonation into whatever passes for my brain now and I stop dead. He stops dead. We? I’m already—

Hey, you okay?

There it is again, burbling up full of genuine concern and empathy like he wasn’t just chasing down an innocent wo— wait, girlfriend? Girlfriend?! He’s chasing his girlfriend in the woods at night!? What kind of straight nonsense was this!?

It’s, uhhhh, kind of a long story. And maybe a little weird? There’s something like a goofy, love-drunk giggle that bursts on my nose. I try to wave it away. She’s a little weird. Good weird though.

More thoughts float my way, images this time, and I realize they’re memories. Memories of the two of them, together and happy and it twists and digs at my heart like physical pain. Just as fast as they came, he pulls them back and anxious questioning floods in its stead. At least he’s not horny anymore. Men being horny is so physically uncomfortable, especially when you’re the one suddenly feeling it.

Oh, yeah, sorry about that too. I’m told I can be… intense with that. But what about you? Are you… Enough questions crowd forward before they can be reeled in that I want to vomit. Which I guess technically means he almost makes me make him vomit. Ugh, this being dead thing fucking sucks.

Our thoughts pull up short at the same time. I’m… dead? I’m dead… I’m dead. I’m dead I’m dead I’m dead I’m—

I don’t even notice us crashing to the foliage-covered ground as tears well in our eyes and threaten to spill over. I would have noticed falling if this were my body. My body isn’t padded by all this… this stupid bulk and muscle! But this isn’t my body. I don’t have a body. Because I’m dead. I’m dead and—

Whoa whoa whoa! Hey! It’s okay! Just breathe! I’m really good at breathing! Lots of cardio! C’mon! Let’s breathe in for one, two, three…

I have never wanted to punch myself more in my life or apparent unlife than I do in that moment.

Okay, wow, rude. I’m just trying to help with the whole, you know, thing.

How he’s modulating his inside voice like that should probably be studied. No one’s thoughts should be able to convey emotion that completely. That’s what vocal cords are for. Which I no longer have. Because I’m—

You know I can hear you, right? Do you always narrate your life? The curiosity swarms forward as the indignation melts away and it feels warm. Nice. I’m not telling him I like it. I know people all have different means of processing but no one really talks about it. But now you’re here, I guess, so I can just ask without it being awkward!

Thiiiiiiis… isssn’t… awwwwwkwarrrrrrd? I grimace. Even my internal monologue rasps like I haven’t talked in years and haven’t seen water in even longer. It can’t have been years yet. Could it? How long have I been—

Only if you let it be! comes his cheerful reply and I want to hate him for how easily he’s handling the death I haven’t even come to terms with yet. He just laughs and extends something like a telepathic hand, all goldenrod and warm between whatever there is of us in this space. Let’s take it from the top. Hi, my name’s Billy!