What have you done?

CW: TG, After-Transformation, X-Change

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, the screen lighting up the dark room of your modest apartment with Jake’s name. Another invitation. An impulsive, all-expenses-paid trip to Maui. "Just you and me, buddy. Two weeks. You need this," his voice, warm and full of easy confidence, had brooked no argument over the line. He always knew what you needed. He always provided. He was your best friend. Your rich, impossibly generous, sometimes overwhelmingly intense best friend.

The private jet felt less like luxury and more like Jake’s natural habitat. He poured champagne, his steel-blue eyes crinkling with fond amusement at your awe. "Wait until you see the place," he'd promised, clinking his glass against yours. The villa was obscene in its beauty and privacy—all white stone and infinity pools spilling toward an endless turquoise horizon. "Paradise," he'd declared, slinging an arm around your shoulders, his grip firm and familiar. "Our paradise."

That first night, he’d mixed the drinks himself. Something tropical, deceptively sweet. "A tradition," he'd said, his smile brilliant in the tiki torchlight. "To new beginnings." You toasted. The drink was smooth. The second went down easier. Jake's laughter was a constant, reassuring sound. He filled your glass again. And again. His stories grew more grandiose, his gaze on you more lingering, more… proprietary. "You trust me, right?" he’d asked, his hand resting on the back of your neck, his thumb stroking your skin. "More than anyone."

The world began to soften at the edges. The brilliant stars smeared into streaks of light. Jake's face was the last clear thing you saw, his expression one of profound satisfaction, his voice a low murmur that seemed to come from inside your own head. "That's it… just let go. I've got you. I'll always have you."

Then… black. A deep, total, and absolute nothing. The kind of sleep where you don't dream. The kind from which you do not wake up the same.

Until now.