//ALTER//

other bella !!

BANG!

I jolted awake from the banging sound, which sounded like a door that was violently slammed. I grasped on my chest where my heart was heavily pounding. I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing until my heartbeat slowed to a normal and I wasn't cold and too shaky anymore.

I opened my eyes again and frowned at the strange room I woke up in. Did I pass out in a friend's house? The room I woke up in is smaller and the walls are painted in powder pink. The bed also feels old and not soft. I looked down and I was wearing the most casual house clothes I haven't worn in a while ever since I discovered the comfort of sleeping in satin nightgowns-- an old cotton band shirt with flaky logo and a pair of boxer shorts.

Goddamn whose place is this?

"Y/N?!" An angry female voice, which sounded a lot like my mother's, called out from downstairs.

Maybe she's picking me up from whoever house this is. Oddly enough, I don't feel the hungover. Maybe I drank lots of water before I crashed. Hmm.

I got out of the bedroom and I went downstairs. I heard movements in the kitchen, which I assumed where my mother is, so I went there.

I heard angry mumblings and aggressive clanking of the metal and glass dishes. I entered the kitchen and was welcomed by the sigh of my very worn-out mother. She was wearing no makeup and her undereyes looked very dark.

"You continue cooking this. I'm going out to buy groceries, so I can feed you." She bitterly said, which shocked me, because she never spoke to me with such hatred.

"M-mom, are you okay?" I cautiously asked in concern.

She glared at me and threw the metal spatula on the kitchen counter as she walked out of the kitchen. I felt confused as to why she was acting that way. My mother's always been very honest and vocal about everything and she has a good control over her emotions, especially her temperament.

I just shrugged it off and went around the oval kitchen counter and stood by the stove to flip the pancake over.

Hold on. This isn't our house, but why does it look and feel like we actually live here? Our house is bigger and brighter than this one.

How odd. Suddenly I remember about last night; me being in the obnoxiously loud party and hating every second of it and desperately wishing that I was in a different, much simpler life. Maybe this was it! Or maybe I'm still dreaming, but, man, this is way too real to be a dream. Dreams aren't this clear, steady, and properly sequenced.

I heard mom's footsteps barrel down the stairs and I felt my body tense. I distracted myself from the bubbling up anxiety by removing the cooked pancake from the hot pan and plopped it on the clean white plate, stacking it above an existing pancake.

"Can you move any slower than that?" My mom sarcastically asked as she snatched the plate of two pancakes from the countertop and sat on the dining table to eat it.

It's so weird having a different version of my mom. She's so annoying and unnecessarily angry all of the time. I don't think I can last a day without snapping at her.

I poured enough pancake batter on the pan and just went deep into thinking about this different dimension I'm in. This, whatever this is, is way too big for my head to wrap around. If this is really my granted wish, then that means, no paparazzis will randomly mob me in a street, no stupid parties,— wait, am I still a twenty-two year old? There's no time change or anything of that sort, right?

However, on the downside, I don't have the comfort of luxury. I can't just have food delivered to my house, nor can I just go outside and eat anywhere I please, because I'm sure as hell that I don't have my billions in this plane of existence.

Not to harshly judge the life I woke up to, but it seems like the kind of life that you'd really pray to the gods every second of the day to get you out of. Has this life been occupied by someone? By another me? Damn what a pain in the ass for having such a mean mother.

I breathed out a heavy sigh. I don't even have anyone, but myself. Welp, it seems like I've had this all figured out. Maybe. I wanna go back to my life now, please please please please please pl—

"You stupid bitch! The pancake's burning!" My mother shouted at me as she stomped her way to me, shoving me to the side and harshly scraping the not-so burnt pancake off the pan, which can still be eaten, but she already chucked it in the bin. I wouldn't mind eating it.

Suddenly I felt an impactful slap across my cheek and a stinging throb all over the side of my face, which took me by surprise, made me gasp, and made me instinctively cradle my cheek.

"Where the fuck has your mind been flying to huh? Is it in Patrick's room? Whore!"

Damn hearing those words come out from my own mother hurts more than the physical pain I was feeling now.

I'm so fucking terrified. Where do I run to? Do I run away? Do I just stand? And Patrick's room? As in my-boyfriend-Patrick's room? Shit I need to get the hell out of here.

She huffed and switched the stove off. Then got out of the house, slamming the door shut, leaving me with the deafening silence.

I feel so fucking heartbroken and somehow relieved that she finally went away. My stomach growled in hunger. I'm just in full-blown shock. I've never been hit by my mother, well back in my universe. This shit's fucking heartbreaking and terrifying.

My body was cold and trembling from shock and fear. I grabbed myself a warm glass of water to at least fill my stomach and to calm myself down. I'm not a fan of ice cold water.

Anyway, where do I go? Wait, I could still cook myself some pancakes with the remaining batter. I should have enough time to do that while she's away, but I'm also hella curious as to where Patrick would be.

Somebody knocked on the door and called my name out loud. I frowned in curiously as I walked to the door and swung it open.

"Hey," A man— well, a college looking boy with a blue cap on his long dirty blonde hair, a pair of gorgeous blue eyes and plump lips—hold the fuck up, he's Patrick. He's my fucking boyfriend. He looks so different! He looks like the younger version of himself!

"Patrick!" I exclaimed as I felt my body relax in relief. I didn't care about anything else and threw myself on him, wrapping my arms around his neck and just cried.

He gently rubbed his hand on my back up and down in a comforting manner as he lightly rested his hand on my hip, but it felt like he was being careful in doing it, like there's some sort of boundary.

What the hell? I've gotten used to Patrick hugging the hell out of me especially at times like this. Yet my mom wouldn't do the things that my mom in this universe just did to me, so why do I keep expecting that things are the same here.

I have to get myself together and figure shit out. This Patrick is probably not even my boyfriend in this existence.

"S-sorry." I quickly said, wiping my tears with the sleeves of my shirt, slightly wincing at the contact of the fabric on my stung cheek.

"It's okay." He softly smiled at me as he adjusted his cap.

"Oh." Was all I could say. Now I wanted to get to know about this life more and also about the Y/N that originally lived this life.

"Have you eaten breakfast yet?" Patrick asked. I could already sense that he's gentler and kinder compared to my Patrick. I mean my Patrick isn't mean. He's just straight to the point, snappy, sassy, and protective. Also the softest person ever behind the public eye.

Anyway, my stomach loudly growling answered him. He just chuckled at me as I let him enter the house.

/

Patrick continued cooking the leftover pancake batter and I already had another clean plate laid out just beside the stove. I just stood beside him and watched him cook. The silence and his presence were comforting.

He also took care of my cheek while he was heating up the pan. He got a clean cloth and washed it down with cold water, wrung it, and had me put it on my swollen cheek.

He looked like he was about to cry, with his shiny eyes, clenched jaw, and flushed skin, but he didn't, which reminded me of my Patrick. He'd cry right in front of me. Throughout our relationship, I've learned that he only shows his real emotions to the people he trust and wouldn't take advantage of his vulnerability.

This Patrick seems like he wouldn't cry, because he knows that I need someone else to be strong for me, which is really thoughtful of him, but crying isn't a form of weakness. I understand his silent struggle of not breaking in front of me.

"Our first subject professor is absent, by the way. No need to worry about being marked late." Patrick reminded me, his voice a little wobbly.

Oh so apparently I go to college. Eugh.

"Thank God. I don't like it there anyway." I said and immediately caught myself. Is that something the Y/N would say? Wait, I don't even know anything about her. Does she like college? I wonder what she's majoring in.

He glanced at me, knowingly smiling. "I know. Same." He confessed, switching the stove off and plopping the last pancake on the stack.

I didn't know if he meant the subject, the school, or college in general.

We proceeded to sit down on the little wooden table set. He got me a glass of what smells like blueberry juice from the box and a bottle of maple syrup.

I prefer butter on my pancakes, but I'll take what this life has to give.

"Thanks." I muttered as I hungrily tore through the delicious stack of pancakes.

I couldn't help but compare my life to this life. I don't know which one should I be grateful for. The one where I'm so in-demand and always drunk or stoned? Or this one where I have an abusive mother but it's all simple?

"Patrick, what are we?" I asked out of the blue. I just want to have answers to little things.

His cheeks flushed. "What do you mean?"

"Our relationship," I clarified, "like are we just friends?" Then I realized how different the question came out. I mentally facepalmed.

"Uh w-well," he began to stutter, his face growing red. It made me chuckle. God, I've never seen my Patrick this bothered. My Patrick is a cocky motherfucker and I love him. It's like feeding his ego with a delicious meal when I'm teasing or complimenting him.

"I didn't mean it like that," I clarified for the second time, which made the building up expression in his face fall down and shatter...if that's even a thing in the book of facial expressions.

He shook his head sideways and looked down, clasping his hands together. "You don't want us to be more that friends?" He painfully asked as he lifted his head again to look at me with that stoic expression on his face.

Oh NO. OH NO. Shit. Fuck. Did I just hurt him? Of course I just did! He obviously has special feelings for you! I mean for the other Bella!

Screw it. I'm gonna tell him.

"Look, Patrick. I don't know how else to say this, but I'm not the real Bella." I internally panicked, not even knowing if my string of words made sense. I don't know how else I could make it make sense to him. Or heck to anyone!

Not the real Bella? What am I? A fucking alien? Well yeah I am an alien to this life...dimension...universe...whatever! Everything and everyone is strange to me. Even my own mother, which makes me sad, because parents should be your safe haven, but in my case, my mother in this life is just a big warning sign. Should I get her arrested?

So far, the only plan I came up for now was get a job and start my own business with my salary just like what I did with my own company back in my real life. I could make this life better even just for a bit.

My mind is running places again. I almost forgot about Patrick looking at me weirdly. I rolled my eyes and continued eating my pancakes. I also almost forgot about going to school.

/

I took a cold shower, because this house doesn't have a working heater. I'm impressed with how clean my room and my bathroom is. The original Bella must be keeping herself distracted with cleaning. I do that too especially when I'm anxious and bothered about my business and being a public figure. It's hard to sleep most of the time knowing that the whole world's eyes is on me and I have thousands of employees that I can't let down ever, because I made a vow to myself to help as much people as I can with what I have and I don't want to fuck up that vow ever.

Wow I talk about cleaning and I end up talking about myself.

Anyway, I'm also impressed with Bella's fashion sense. She's very avant-garde and bold, like she speaks through her clothes. Well, I don't think she gets to speak out loud in this house with such a toxic household. Or maybe she just really loves fashion. Or both. God I don't know. I'm just trying to get to know her through her room.

I picked out a pair of high waisted jeans and a really cool nude pink knitted longsleeve turtleneck. Then slipped on a pair of a clean thoroughly used white Adidas shoes with a powder pink sole and a powder pink check mark. Maybe she doesn't mind her walls painted in powder pink as well. I mean it's not a bad color. It even looks prettier during a sunny day.

I grabbed the bag that seems to be her school bag after quickly checking the contents which had two large notebooks and a pouch and then went downstairs to run the hell out of the house with Patrick.

I fought the natural instinct to hold his hand. I can't have his hopes up. This isn't my life. What if the other Bella doesn't have any romantic feelings for Patrick?

We rode the bus and sat on the two-seater. Patrick, being the gentleman that he is, made me sit on the window seat, so he could protect me from all the action in the aisle. God why do I keep assuming shit. What if this is how they've been doing things?

"By the way, my mom baked us raspberry muffins with almonds on top, because you like those." He said as he retrieved a medium brown bag and handed it to me.

I felt my insides warm up and my heart melt like butter at the sweet and thoughtful gesture. I do like almonds and raspberries. It's cool that the other Y/N likes those too!

I took the bag from him and carefully placed it in my bag and zipped it close. "Thanks, Patrick. Thanks to your mom too. You guys are really cool."

He smiled at me. I want to kiss him right now with that beautiful smile of his, but I can't and I won't. I'm not the Y/N he thinks I am.

"I still don't see how you're not," he brought his hands up, making air-quotes with his fingers, " "the real Bella." You still seem pretty and cool to me." He smoothly flirted.

I rolled my eyes as I smiled and playfully gave him a shove. "Patrick, I'm serious." I don't fucking know how to explain this! The laughter died down and I'm looking at him in the eye with seriousness. "I'm really not the Bella you think I am." Those words sound ridiculous but how else do you say shit like that.

I could tell that he's still confused with what I'm trying to say, with the way he furrowed his brows and chewed his bottom lip and the way he adorably rested his chin on the heel of his palm. Goodness. "Well, I wouldn't mind hearing about it, I guess. You can be anything you want to be."

/

I did it. I told Patrick everything starting about my life, then this party that I was invited at, how much I hated being there, the wish, and the moment I suddenly woke up here, in this life.

Also during the bus ride, he paid for both of our fare, because when I checked my pockets and my bag, I didn't have my wallet with me, which is very embarrassing, because Patrick's done so much for me already.

We arrived at the school and Patrick's still silent and seem to be deep in thought; most probably processing all the things I just said.

Shit I don't even know my class schedule and where the room are. Fuck. I could feel my heart rate start to speed up again as my mind got overwhelmed with the sudden worry about everything-school.

"Can we talk about the whole thing later? Let's get through school first, okay?" Patrick said, his eyes on me seemingly lost in thought.

I nodded. "I know nothing about uh my room assignment and schedule."

"That's fine. We have the same class schedule, so you don't have to worry about getting lost." He assured me.

I let out a sigh of relief. "Man, I love convenience."

He breathed out a short chuckle. "Right when you need it."

/

Patrick's P.O.V.

This morning started out rough for my best friend, Bella. Her mother's degrading screams at her were heard back in our house, which always have me and my parents worried.

It broke my heart to see her right cheek slightly swollen from her mother hitting her. I just want to get her out of this house and away from her abusive mother. She doesn't deserve to be treated with so much spite, regardless of how hard their life is.

Of course, I didn't shed a tear right in front of her, even if my eyes were beginning to water up. I had to quickly distract myself, so I cooked her breakfast.

While she was holding the cold cloth, that I prepared for her, on her swollen cheek, I remember what me and my parents agreed on; to immediately have Bella in our house if ever things get intensely bad for her.

Right at that moment, I wanted to help her pack her things and have her move to our house without her mother knowing. I want to take care of her, to protect her for as much and for as long as I can.

Anyway, right now we're in Positive Psychology class and I glanced at Bella, the "different Bella" and saw her eyes glimmering as she took in all of the information hungrily. It made me think about everything that she told me about being switched from a different universe to this one. I know about multiverse and I believe that it exists. It's just that I didn't know that transferring or switching from one universe to another is actually possible. I thought it was all just a theory and fictional themes.

Honestly, at first, I didn't buy it. I just let Bella talk about it, because I thought she was into deep about the multiverse theory that she made up a story using it as a theme, but she was actually serious about it. I also confirmed myself that everything she said was true, because of the mole on the bony part of her wrist, which the real Bella doesn't have. Apart from that, she's totally clueless of everything including her class schedule.

Oh and uh she tackled me with a hug the moment she saw me standing by the door and she's not really a hugger, especially not with her mom.

However, the hug broke something in me. You know that stupid wall of do-not-fall-in-love-with-your-best-friend wall? Yeah that's the one that broke down with that hug. Besides, I've always admired her ever since we were in Junior high school. She has such a big mind. I could talk to her about anything for days and I wouldn't ever get tired of hearing her speak out her galaxy brain.

Anyway, it's kinda freaky that the different Bella that exactly looks like my Bella is a different Bella from a different plane of existence. It's fucking cool at the same time too because she's literally a person from a different universe. She has a completely different life from my Bella and in her universe I'm her boyfriend, which now I couldn't stop thinking about being my Bella's boyfriend; how awesome it would be to kiss her—

"Patrick?" My professor called me out.

"Yes?" I answered, not knowing about anything at all.

"I asked what kind of gestures you think would be best to express to someone that you're glad to see them?" My professor asked.

"Um," I blinked, "giving them a kiss," I blurted out, unable to come up with a proper answer like, maybe, a damn hug or a handshake, because that's what normal people do.

Light-hearted laughter filled the room. My professor gave me an amused smile. "A kiss, huh. You must be very happy to see that person" then they glanced at Bella and then back at me.

I sighed. I glanced at the different Y/N and back at my professor. Yeah, I'd be very happy to have my Bella back again.