Disclaimer: I do not own Winx Club. All recognizable characters belong to Straffi. Plot and OCs belong to me.

Summary: Flora and Riven had always lived at opposite ends of the spectrum. One morning, they wake up and find themselves in the wrong body. As, the two struggle to live, they learn to find happiness within inconvenient circumstances. AU

100 Days As You

By: renachi


I paused in front of the sight of Musa shoving handfuls of popcorn mixed with Doritos and truffles into her mouth. Musa's eyes were as big as saucer. They kept absorbing in the flashing images of the Specialists jamming out their music with blinding strobe lights flying to every corner of the stage. The music was so loud that I could even catch the lyrics.

"Why do you watch that stuff again?"

Musa was so deeply engrossed in her music concert marathon that she didn't even notice me. During the marathon, she would stay up till dawn watching media and singing her lungs out as softly as possible so that we wouldn't receive complaints from the police. Then the next morning or afternoon, I would make her brunch: steaming tea, delicate scones, nicely fried scrambled eggs, rich curry, and a blueberry muffin. It was our tradition since we both moved into our apartment.

Musa had a bond with music that no one could interfere with. She adored her music as much as I adored my nature, and accepted her music worship as her best friend. Since high school, she has been the friend that you would spend nights watching sappy chic flicks while gouging down dark chocolate cake with coffee. As cliché as this sounds, I could safely say that I knew everything about her: her shoe size, favorite color, favorite food, least favorite food, most embarrassing moment, her bra size, and the list goes on. Yet, I still could not fathom why on earth she was a die-hard Specialist fan. I couldn't see the band's merit.

The Specialists were the hottest addiction in the music world since they debuted two years ago. Immediately after their debut, they received dozens of jobs to go on talk shows, interview, and performances. Two years later, their popularity still was at its peak.

"Musa?" I repeated her name. Finally, I won her attention.

"Oh, sorry," Musa perked. "The song's over now."

I shook my head, lamenting for my friend. "I don't get it. What so great about that band?"

"You mean what's not great about them? Come on Flora. The music is great, the men are great, the stage effects are great."

"Ok, maybe the effects are pretty high tech," I admitted.

"How about the music and guys?"


She sighed. "Ok. I'll concede that the music may not be your taste. You're into reggae so rock may may not float you boat, but, come on, you have to admit that those guys are good looking men," Musa said, urging me to look at the TV screen where the performance of the band members played on the screen.

The four men who made up the band were every teenage girl's dream guy. There was the cute, shy genius, the mysterious hopeless romantic, the nice guy you could bring back home for your parents, and the bad boy that always kept you on the edge. Music, popularity, and image. The band had all three.

"How about Helia?" she pointed out as the face of band's lead singer and bassist appeared on the screen. "He's mysterious, romantic, a pacifist, tree hugger, and he's a poet," Musa said, wagging her finger playfully as her brows jumped. "He's practically your man twin."

"Well," I began hesitantly, "Helia is a good guy…but he's in the world of idols and stars. What are the chances I'll ever meet him?" I shook my head in rejection. "I'd rather not mull over a man I'll never meet."

Musa chuckled. "Of course you wouldn't. You have a loving boyfriend," she teased.

I think I must have blushed in three shades of pink.

"He invited you to a party tonight right? So don't mind me and go meet that boyfriend of yours. " Musa motioned with her hand for me to get out as she tossed another kernel into her mouth while keeping her eyes fixed on the screen.

"I know. I'm leaving," I hesitantly gave my farewell before turning around to turn the doorknob.


Wait? Did she notice that what I am wearing is hers? I didn't mean to steal. I just didn't think she would care if I borrowed a clothing item of hers without telling. That night, I had spent an hour digging through my closet trying to find something that would make me look like a sophisticated, mature woman, not like an innocent, sweet girl. After an hour, I couldn't find anything so I ended up digging through Musa's closet. In the end, I settled for her pitch black tube dress with gold heels. Gold hoops finished the outfit.

"Is that my dress?" Musa's eyes narrowed as she studied me.

I tentatively nodded.

"Not that I care if you borrow my clothing but are you sure you want to wear that? It's not your usual earthy, pastel-colored style." Musa scrunched her eyebrows and tucked a strand of her silky ebony hair back. I fidgeted. She was rigiht. I would have never worn the dress either. Suddenly, Musa's face brightened up like a bulb. "It is something with Roy right?"

"Well, actually, I'm going to a company party and I've been to his workplace before. The people there were," I paused trying to think, "intriguing. There was this woman who flirted with Roy, and he looked, entertained. And I just… I need—"


I felt my heart wrench in pain as I said that was pure torture to imagine the love of my life casually flirting with some other touchy woman.

Musa let out a long sigh. "Flora, you know you have nothing to worry about. Dude. You are super sexy. You don't need to worry about dressing up in a different way just to match up to those boyfriend stealers."

"Yea I know but—" I quickly defended.

"Suuupppper sexy," Musa cut me off again, her round eyes sending me the message to surrender.


" sexy."

I heaved a sigh in defeat. "Fine. So you're fine with me borrowing your dress for one night?" I rolled my eyes, looking at Musa grinning with victory.

"Fine by me. You still look—"

"Sexy?" I gave a wry smile as we both stayed in silence for a few seconds before bursting out in laughter.

"Well, have a fun night," Musa grinned.

"Thanks. Have fun night too."

I would never have guessed the irony in her words until the next morning.


The ride to the party was calm. Musa's pep talk put me at ease so I tuned in to a relaxing music station.

When I finally got to the party, all my nervousness rushed back. My palms were clammy and my legs became jelly. It was hard to believe, but though I had dated Roy for three years already since I was twenty, I had never been invited to any part hosted by his company, a popular store selling silverware, lamps, chairs, and other house goodies. Finally it was time for him, the manager, to invite his long time girlfriend to a friendly company party. He said I didn't have to worry about bringing any gift because the occasion was just to have fun like a banquet.

I'm not sure if it was because he was concerned that I would be insecure or because he just forgot, but I was always scared to find out so I never asked. I had visited his company multiple times before I not everyone that was bound to be at the party came off as a stranger, but nevertheless, I still worried about the foreign environment.

What if it was because he was embarrassed with me and just stayed with me not to hurt me? A bunch of what-if's made a crowd in my mind like "what if I made a fool out of myself" and "what if he was tired of me and liked another girl and was using the party to tell me". But I immediately threw those preposterous nightmares away. Nothing bad was going to happen as usual and I was just over thinking. I need to trust Roy and trust myself. Everyone said that I was rather too nervous when problems related to guys popped up. In the end I would try to run away. Well not this time.

You are sexy Flora. You are beautiful.

Ok. I could do this. How could I be so insecure after three years of dating Roy? It was unreasonable. What was there to be insecure about?

The first time I met Roy started as a disaster and ended as a dream. Two years ago, I had entered a new cafe just to try other people's tea for once. While working on some papers, I waited for my cup of tea to come. When it finally came, things weren't very pretty.

The way I was served was far from graceful. Roy had been the waiter and misfortunately bumped into a visitor which set the tea flying at the person he was serving, me. The steaming tea fell on my clothing. It burned my skin and made my wince but I couldn't help but forgive Roy after he apologized for the umpteenth time and even offered to dry clean the clothes for me.

One encounter led to another. For him to dry clean my clothes, he needed to know my phone number so he could return the clothes when they were done.

"I could go with you to wash them," I kindly offered.

"No really. Let me." Roy replied looking away and scratching his head. "I'm embarrassed about my mistake. If you don't let me, I don't know how I will be able to forgive myself."

That last line was so cheesy that it left a soft smile on my face. So I gave him my number. Naturally more encounters followed and then more dates. Then on my birthday, Roy asked me if we could start dating seriously.

Recalling memories gave me hope. After making a fist, I started walking to that two floored studio model house booming with dance music—the ones with long windows and wide balconies that a stylish young CEO in a romantic movie would own—looking only forward. My journey was long. Each step was an hour and each arm movement was a day. But I immediately felt relieved when I saw the inside.

The atmosphere was inviting with the smell of vanilla and sound of friendly chatter in the air. I was worried over nothing. I gracefully strolled in. "Excuse me, have you seen Roy?" I asked a lady with a thick layer of blush on her face.

"Roy?" she pondered, obviously confused about something. Then she answered with a dubious expression while pointing behind me. "He's over there by the balcony."

My face brightened as I gave my thanks. The weird girl was rather intent on leaving quickly and her weak smile made her look more scared than friendly. Either way, I stepped out on to the balcony. But where was Roy?

I felt a tap on my shoulder and found a short, cute girl looking at me with big round dark eyes. Her wavy light hair and fair skin made her look like a porcelain doll from Sweden. "Looking for Roy?" the girl spoke.

"Mhm. Have you seen him?" I asked.

"He's down there," her eyes gazed down into the backyard.

Then I saw Roy. Some woman in was straddling his lap.

"What is he doing?" I squinted.

"Didn't you know?" she sneered, satisfied. "Roy is popular amongst the ladies in our department. Well I guess it is obvious that he is. Good looking, smart, has money, and flirty."

I thought I heard wrong. "W-What?"

"Poor girl. You never know and you've been dating him for how long? Three years?"

My chest was burning. Denial. Betrayal. Grief. Realization. It all happened at the same time.

I didn't want to face reality, but my body wouldn't cooperate and I ended up crumbling. Tears started to burn at the corners of my eyes as I tried my best to hold them back. My clenched fist started to tremble and my eyes were wide open, unable to look away. I kept hoping that what I was seeing was a mistake.

"S-Shut up," I stuttered weakly.

"So how is Roy in bed? The techniques we taught him in bed are simply amazing."

"Shut up!"

I bit back my lower lip. My heels clacked as I backed up and ran as fast as I could from the scene.

I came to my car, ready to dive in and hide my tears from the world, but then I spotted Roy's car a few cars in front of me, and I couldn't stop myself from approaching it. I glared at car's sleek red paint job, wishing that looks could burn. And then without thinking, I swung my foot at his tire, letting out the pent up rush of anger. As a reward, I earned a throbbing ache in my toe. But the alarm did not honk in protest.

My eyes widen as I realized that Roy didn't lock his car. I could wreck up his car as revenge. I could engrave painful scratches on the metal, rip the leather chairs to shreds, and slash the tires. The possibility tantalized me immensely, but I shied away from it. I was scared of the ramifications. Like a coward, I backed up and drove away, leaving his defenseless car in pristine condition.


I somehow found my way to a bar. I didn't even remember how I got there. All I wanted was to escape and hide under a rock. I wanted to go somewhere where I could forget everything.

At the end of the long drive was a bar, a life-saving bar and then I realized that alcohol was the best way to forget. I had never drank before in my whole life but when you are told that your boyfriend was cheating with multiple girls at his work, witness it, and then get anointed with a martini, it seems like your savior.

I stumbled into the bar towards the closest chair by the counter.

"I'll have your best," I drawled.

"Oh. Same," a hoarse voice said from my side. A guy in a black hood sat next to me. I must have been there before I came.

"All right young lady. Right away," a shrill voice spoke.

I took a good took at the bartender. It was an old lady with her fluffy white hair in a perm. Delicate glasses sat at the tip of her nose, waiting for a moment to slip off. My first time at a bar and the bartender was a granny? My life was very weird indeed. Weird and sad. Another sigh came out.

"Hear you go."

A mug of liquid slid onto the counter. Without delay, I, desperate to forget about what happened earlier that night, chugged the liquid down.

When I finished, all I had left was a bad aftertaste in my mouth. I heard the guy beside me complain about the alcohol and the granny scolding him for wasting a good drink. With amusement, I watched as his offended face slowly finished his drink. When he finished, he had a that-was-the-worst-thing-I-have-ever-drank look as he violently rubbed his lips. Following that a few more words were thrown between the bartender and guy. It almost made me forget about what happened that night. Almost.

"Who's a slut?" I drawled. I wasn't the slut. Maybe that doll-like girl was the slut. Oh! That girl who was sitting on R-him was the slut.

"H-Huh?" The guy next to me stared with confusion. His face looked really familiar. Maybe he was a customer at my shop before?

"Popular my butt. Who cares if that butt was on his lap?" I didn't! I really didn't. Ok. I did. But who wouldn't care if your boyfriend was being straddled by a woman that had a too short dress that would fall off if her giant breasts didn't keep it up?

"What the heck are you talking about?" the could-be-past-customer asked in annoyance. I ignored him and continued, again.

"Was I not enough? I tried my best! I loved him! Loved him. Loved you so much. Why?" I cried. "Why?"

"Crying drunks," the granny tittered.

Granny seemed like she had a lot of experience with crying drunks. I was just another miserable person in the miserable place called Earth. I was just one out of a million of other crying drunkards so why did it hurt so much to be betrayed when I'm so insignificant.

"Why did this happen? My what-ifs came true. I even wore the stupid dress. Why didn't you just tell me instead of doing it why? Give me peace! Why!" I yelled out with distress.

If I had known all of my wild horrors would have come true then I would have never entered the cursed building. If only I had known, then I would have fled to a faraway place the day I met Roy. Then I could have been spared the agony.

"Hey. Calm down," the guy stuttered. He seemed scared and started to back away from me.

"Ah...I wasn't good enough. Wasn't good. I hate this."

I prolonged that last word as my eyes slowly closed with tears sliding down my cheeks. Granny and the guy were watching but I didn't care what others thought. I wanted to escape and I was granted my wish.

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