The room was small, but tidy. Bare walls softened only by a few framed pictures and a scattering of sticky notes with reminders scribbled in neat handwriting. A dorm room. A boy’s dorm room.
And in front of the mirror stood… him.
Luke.
The name pulsed in his head as if it had always been there. He was Luke. A twelve-year-old boy, almost twelve—birthday in just a few weeks, his memory supplied without hesitation. He stared at the reflection: short blond hair, neat, almost posh in its cut. A face that was young but already sharp around the edges, cute in a way people noticed.
And it felt right.
He looked down at himself, at the sports shorts hanging loose at his hips. Basketball shorts. His basketball shorts. He wore them all the time, in between practice, in between swimming. And he knew, deep down in his bones, he had a swimmer’s body—flat stomach, lean lines, wiry muscle. Not bulky. Not heavy. A body built to slice through water and leave others behind.
His grin stretched wider the longer he looked.
This… this was better than anything he had ever been before. He was a boy. A dude. He had a boy’s body, boy’s parts, boy’s everything. It wasn’t strange or uncomfortable—no, it was normal. The most normal thing in the world. This was him.
The wish had done it. It had given him all the memories to live this life, and none of the weight of what came before.
Luke. Elite swimmer at one of the most prestigious private schools in the country. A kid people looked at and said gifted. Parents who were always working, yes, but he didn’t resent them; they were rich, and he was well cared for. And here, at school, he wasn’t lonely. He had friends. Brothers in all but blood.
The bang on the door startled him.
“Luke!” a voice called, muffled through the wood. “Come on, you’re the one who wanted to play B-ball, now let’s go!”
Danny. He knew the voice instantly. One of his best friends.
A second voice chimed in, laughing, “Yeah, Luke, you’re not backing out now, loser!”
Paul. His other best friend.
The names, the memories, they were all there. Pool races, late-night jokes, bruised shins from scrappy basketball games. They weren’t strangers—they were his people. His closest friends, his family at school.
Luke smirked at his reflection, tugging at the waistband of his shorts.
“Alright, alright, I’m coming, losers! Give me a sec,” he shouted back.
He grabbed the clean T-shirt he’d left folded on the bed, the one he always threw on after a shower, and pulled it over his head. His hair was still damp, smelling faintly of chlorine, but that was fine. That was him.
This life was good. More than good—it was perfect. He was fit, good-looking, and talented at everything he tried. He didn’t need to think about anything else, didn’t need to remember a life that didn’t exist anymore. Why would he? Why would anyone give up this?
He shoved the last of his things into his bag, the familiar weight of the stone nestled in the bottom of the pocket. He barely even thought about it. Just a good luck charm now, nothing more.
Opening the door, he grinned at Danny and Paul waiting in the hall, basketball tucked under Danny’s arm.
“Come on,” Luke said. “Let’s see which one of you losers I’m dunking on first.”
And he meant it.
He was Luke.
That was all he needed to be for now.
and that is the end of this story for me. If anyone wants to carry this on go for it,
