First Kiss, Last Kiss, Every Kiss
Copyright© 2026 by SpankLord40k
Chapter 3: The First Day
The police station was cold and sterile, with fluorescent lights that made everything look washed out and harsh. Lars sat on a plastic chair in a small waiting room, his little legs dangling well above the floor, swinging slightly with nervous energy he couldn’t control. The princess dress made soft rustling sounds with each movement, and glitter from his face paint had dusted onto his small hands and the chair beneath him.
A kind female officer - Detective Rodriguez, she’d said her name was - had given him a blanket and a cup of hot chocolate, speaking to him in that gentle, overly-patient tone adults used with small children. Lars wanted to scream at her that he wasn’t a child, that he was twenty-three years old, that something terrible had happened to him. But every time he tried to explain, the words came out confused and childish, and Emmy’s memories mixed with his own until he couldn’t tell which were real.
He could remember coming to the party with Jake and Marcus.
He could also remember trick-or-treating with Sarah and getting lost.
Both felt real. Both felt like they’d actually happened to him.
The door opened, and Lars’s heart jumped. His parents rushed in - his mother Linda looking frantic, his father Robert looking stern and worried. And behind them, trying to appear small and innocent, was Sarah.
“Emmy!” His mother swept forward and pulled him into a tight hug, and Lars felt his small body automatically responding, arms wrapping around her, face pressing into her shoulder. The embrace felt both foreign and familiar. “Oh my God, Emmy, you scared us to death! Where were you? What happened?”
“I got lost,” the words came out automatically, in that high childish voice. “I was trick-or-treating and I wandered away and I couldn’t find Sarah and I got scared and - “ Wait. Was that what happened? Lars tried to remember. He’d been at the party. He’d been dancing with the cat girl. He’d felt strange and gone to the bathroom and transformed into ... this.
But he could also clearly remember being Emmy, walking through the neighborhood in his princess costume, seeing something interesting down a side street - what had it been? A cat? A decoration? - and following it, and when he turned around, Sarah and her friends were gone.
Which memory was real?
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Morrison,” Detective Rodriguez said. “We found her at a college party. She seems confused about how she got there. We think she might have wandered in looking for help when she got lost.”
“A college party?” His father’s voice was sharp with concern and anger. “Emmy, you know better than to go into strange houses! Anything could have happened to you!”
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Lars heard himself say, and felt tears welling up in his eyes again. “I didn’t mean to! I just got scared and confused and -”
His mother hugged him tighter. “It’s okay, baby. You’re safe now. That’s all that matters. We’re just so glad we found you.”
Lars looked past his mother to where Sarah stood near the door. She was looking at him with an expression that was hard to read - guilt? Satisfaction? Concern? When their eyes met, Sarah quickly looked away.
She did this, Lars thought with a surge of anger and desperation. She and her friends. They cast a spell. They turned me into this.
But another part of him - the Emmy part - thought: Sarah looks upset. Did I worry her that much? I should apologize to my big sister.
Big sister! The words felt right and wrong simultaneously.
“Can we take her home?” his mother asked Detective Rodriguez.
“Yes, of course. We just needed to make sure she was safe and returned to her family.” The detective smiled at Lars kindly. “You be more careful from now on, okay Emmy? Stay with your sister when you’re out at night.”
“I will,” Lars heard himself promise automatically.
The drive home was uncomfortable. Lars sat in the back seat in a booster seat - when had they put that there? Had it always been there? - with Sarah beside him. His mother kept turning around from the passenger seat to look at him, as if afraid he might disappear again.
“Emmy, honey, are you sure you’re okay?” his mother asked for the third time. “You weren’t hurt? Nobody bothered you at that party?”
“I’m fine, Mommy,” the words came out automatically, and Lars hated how natural they sounded. “Just scared. And tired.”
“We’ll talk about this more at home,” his father said from the driver’s seat, his voice carrying that tone of impending punishment. “Both of you.”
Both?
Lars looked at Sarah, who was staring determinedly out the window, her jaw set.
“Sarah was supposed to be watching you,” his mother said, her voice carrying disappointment. “You’re the older sister, Sarah. You should have been more responsible. Emmy could have been seriously hurt.”
“I know, Mom,” Sarah said quietly. “I’m sorry. I was talking with Melissa, Katie and Jessica, and I looked away for just a minute, and Emmy was gone. I looked everywhere for her. We all did.”
The guilt in Sarah’s voice sounded genuine, but Lars wondered if it was for losing Emmy or for what she’d done to him. He wanted to scream at her, to expose her, to make her fix this. But when he opened his mouth, what came out was: “It’s not Sarah’s fault. I wandered off. I’m sorry, Sarah.”
Why had he said that? He didn’t want to apologize to Sarah! She’d done this to him! But Emmy would feel bad for worrying her big sister. Emmy would want to take responsibility for getting lost. The dual thoughts made his head hurt.
Sarah finally looked at him, and her eyes were shiny with tears. “I’m just glad you’re safe, Emmy. I was so worried.”
The words sounded sincere, and Lars felt a confusing mix of anger at Sarah for lying and Emmy’s genuine affection for her big sister.
They pulled into the driveway of the house on Madison Avenue, and Lars felt another wave of disorientation. He knew this house. He’d grown up here. But he’d also moved out years ago, lived in his own apartment downtown.
Except he could also remember never moving out. Remember that his room was upstairs, next to Sarah’s. Remember his stuffed animals and his drawings and his pink bedspread. Which memory was real?
Inside, the house felt both familiar and strange. The furniture was the same, but everything seemed bigger somehow. The stairs looked steeper. The ceilings seemed higher.
His parents made them sit on the couch in the living room while they stood, looking down at them with serious expressions. Lars felt even smaller sitting there, his feet not touching the floor, the princess dress spread out around him. He could feel dried face paint pulling at his skin, and glitter kept falling onto his lap every time he moved.
“Sarah,” his father began, his voice stern. “You were supposed to be responsible for your sister. You’re grounded for one week. No phone, no computer except for homework, straight home after school.”
“Yes, Dad,” Sarah said, looking down at her lap. “I understand.”
“And Emmy,” his mother continued, kneeling down to Lars’s level. “You know better than to wander off. You could have been hurt, or taken by someone dangerous. We’re grounding you too, young lady. Two weeks. Same rules.”
“But - “ Lars started to protest. Two weeks? He couldn’t be stuck here for two weeks! He needed to figure out how to fix this, how to contact Jake and Marcus, how to -
“No buts,” his father said firmly. “You scared us terribly tonight, Emmy. You need to learn that actions have consequences.”
“Yes, Daddy,” Lars heard himself say meekly, hating how his voice sounded, how automatic the obedience was.
“Now,” his mother said, her voice softening. “It’s very late, and you both have school tomorrow. Let’s get you cleaned up and into bed.”
School. Tomorrow. The word sent a spike of panic through Lars. What school? He didn’t go to school anymore. He’d graduated years ago.
But Emmy went to school. Fourth grade at Oakwood Elementary. Mrs. Patterson’s class.
The competing memories made him dizzy.
Sarah stood up. “Mom, I can help Emmy get her face paint off. If that’s okay?”
Their mother looked surprised but pleased. “That’s very responsible of you, Sarah. Yes, that would be helpful. Thank you.”
Sarah held out her hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, Lars took it. Her hand was so much bigger than his now, warm and steady. She led him upstairs to the bathroom, closing the door behind them.
For a long moment, they just looked at each other. Lars standing there in his ridiculous princess costume, face covered in smudged makeup and glitter. Sarah standing by the sink, looking guilty and uncertain.
“Sit on the counter,” Sarah said quietly, patting the bathroom counter. “I’ll get the makeup remover.”
Lars wanted to refuse, to demand she fix what she’d done, but his body seemed to move on its own. He struggled to climb up onto the counter - it was harder than it should be, his legs were so short now - and finally managed to hoist himself up with Sarah’s help.
Sarah dampened a washcloth and squeezed some makeup remover onto it, then began gently wiping at Lars’s face. The touch was careful, almost tender, and Lars felt confused by the conflicting emotions surging through him. Anger at what she’d done. But also ... comfort? Emmy’s memories of Sarah helping her get ready for bed, being gentle and caring like a good big sister.
“I’m sorry,” Sarah whispered as she wiped away the pink blush from his cheeks. “For what I did. I was so angry, and I wanted you to understand what it felt like, but I didn’t think - I didn’t realize -”
“You turned me into this,” Lars said, or tried to say. But what came out was: “Why are you sorry? I’m the one who got lost. It’s my fault.”
No! That wasn’t what he meant! Lars tried again, forcing the words out: “You cast a spell. You and your friends. You did this to me.”
But his mouth said: “I shouldn’t have wandered off. I worried everyone.”
Sarah’s hand paused, and tears began streaming down her face. “I know. I know what I did. I remember everything, Emmy. I remember Lars, and what happened, and what I did to you. But you don’t remember anymore, do you? Not really.”
Lars tried to say “Yes, I remember! I’m Lars! I’m your brother!” But the words wouldn’t come. Instead: “Remember what? What are you talking about, Sarah?”
Sarah wiped away more makeup - the purple eyeshadow, the blue gradient, the glitter dusting his temples. “Never mind. Just ... I’m glad you’re safe. That’s all.”
They were both quiet as Sarah continued removing the makeup. The silver stars on his cheek. The pink lip gloss. The gold highlighter. The dramatic false eyelashes came off, revealing smaller, natural lashes underneath. The face paint that had taken “Mommy” and Emmy an hour to apply was slowly wiped away, revealing the clean, innocent face of a ten-year-old girl beneath.
Lars watched his reflection in the bathroom mirror as the makeup disappeared. Without it, he looked even younger, even more vulnerable. Just a little girl with big hazel eyes and long chestnut hair, looking tired and confused.
When the last traces of glitter and face paint were gone, Sarah set down the washcloth and looked at him seriously. “Emmy, I need you to know something. No matter what happens, no matter what changes, I love you. Okay? You’re my little sister, and I love you.”
The words stirred something in Lars - guilt? Affection? He wasn’t sure. But before he could think too hard about it, something else occurred to him. Something Emmy would say.
“Sarah?” his childish voice was small, uncertain. “Are you mad at me? Did I do something wrong? You seem sad.”
The question was genuine. Emmy would be worried about upsetting her big sister. And somehow, despite everything, Lars found himself genuinely concerned about Sarah’s feelings. That scared him more than anything else had so far.
“No, you didn’t - “ Sarah’s voice broke. She set down the washcloth and suddenly stood up, backing away from him. “I can’t - I need a minute.”
And then she ran out of the bathroom, leaving Lars sitting on the counter, confused and concerned.
Lars - no, Emmy - no, he was LARS, dammit - carefully climbed down from the counter. His little legs barely reached the floor, and he had to slide down carefully to avoid falling. He padded out of the bathroom in his Mary Jane shoes, the princess dress rustling softly.
He could hear crying from Sarah’s room.
Emmy’s instinct was to check on her big sister, to make sure she was okay. Lars’s instinct was to demand she fix what she’d done. The two impulses warred within him as he walked down the hallway and stopped outside Sarah’s door.
He raised his small fist and knocked gently. “Sarah? Can I come in?”
The crying stopped abruptly. After a moment, the door opened, and Sarah stood there, her face red and blotchy from crying. She’d wiped at her tears, but her eyes were still wet.
“Did ... did I say something wrong?” Emmy’s voice asked, small and worried. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m sorry.” The words came out automatically, genuinely concerned, and Lars realized with horror that he meant them. Part of him - the Emmy part - was genuinely upset about making his big sister cry.
Sarah looked at him standing there in his princess costume, looking up at her with worried eyes, and something seemed to break inside her. She dropped to her knees and pulled him into a tight hug, and Lars felt his small body automatically hugging back. “I’m so happy you’re back home,” Sarah whispered fiercely, her voice thick with emotion. “I’m so glad you’re safe. Please, Emmy, promise me you’ll never run away again. Promise me you’ll stay close where I can keep you safe.”
“I promise,” Lars heard himself say without hesitation. “I promise, Sarah. I’ll never scare you like that again.”
Sarah held him for a long moment, and Lars felt confused by the comfort he found in the embrace. He should be angry. He should be demanding she fix this. But Emmy just wanted her big sister to stop crying, to feel better.
Finally, Sarah pulled back and wiped her eyes. “Okay. Good. Now let’s get you to bed before Mom comes looking for us.”
“Sarah?” their mother’s voice called from downstairs. “Is Emmy ready for bed?”
“Just about!” Sarah called back. She stood and took Lars’s hand. “Come on. Let me show you to your room.”
Lars let himself be led down the hallway. They passed a door - a door he remembered as his old bedroom. He could see inside as they walked past. It was a guest room now, with neutral colors and minimal furniture. No sign that Lars Morrison had ever lived there. The sight sent a chill through him. His room. Where he’d grown up. It was ... gone. Like he’d never existed.
“Here we are,” Sarah said, stopping at a door right next to her own room. A door that was covered in stickers - princesses, butterflies, flowers, unicorns. Emmy’s name was spelled out in sparkly letters: E-M-M-Y.
This was wrong. This door had been ... what? A closet? A bathroom? Lars couldn’t quite remember. His old room had been down the hall, closer to the stairs, farther from Sarah’s room. But Emmy’s room had always been here. Right next to Sarah’s. Where her big sister could always hear if she needed anything.
Sarah opened the door, and Lars felt his breath catch.
The room was an explosion of pink. Pink walls covered with posters of princesses, kittens, and boy bands he didn’t recognize but Emmy apparently loved. A pink bedspread with white ruffles covered a small bed - much smaller than his adult bed had been, but perfectly sized for a ten-year-old. Pink curtains with butterfly patterns hung on the windows. Stuffed animals were everywhere. A massive teddy bear sat in one corner, nearly as tall as Emmy. The bed was covered with plushies - rabbits, cats, dogs, unicorns, more bears. A bookshelf along one wall held children’s books mixed with more stuffed animals. A small desk near the window had art supplies scattered across it - crayons, markers, colored pencils, half-finished drawings.
The walls were covered with Emmy’s artwork - crayon drawings of families and flowers and hearts. A bulletin board held photographs: Emmy as a baby, Emmy as a toddler, Emmy at various ages, always with Sarah, always looking happy and loved. There were school awards for art and perfect attendance. A ribbon from a school field day.
A toy box in the corner overflowed with dolls and dress-up clothes. A pink rug shaped like a heart covered the center of the floor. Glow-in-the-dark stars were stuck to the ceiling in constellation patterns.
This was a ten-year-old girl’s room. Thoroughly, completely, undeniably a little girl’s room. And somehow, it was his.
Lars wanted to scream. Wanted to say this wasn’t his room, couldn’t be his room, that his room was the guest room down the hall with the computer desk and the video game systems and the posters of bands and athletes.
But what came out was: “I’m home!”
Emmy’s voice was genuinely happy. And before Lars could stop himself, his little legs carried him across the room to the bed, where his small hands reached for a particularly worn stuffed rabbit with floppy ears and button eyes. “Mr. Hoppers!” Emmy’s voice exclaimed with delight, and Lars felt himself hugging the stuffed animal tightly to his chest.
No. No, he didn’t want this. He wanted to throw Mr. Hoppers on the ground, to stomp on him, to prove this wasn’t real, wasn’t his. But his arms just squeezed the rabbit tighter, and he felt genuine comfort from holding the familiar toy.
“I’m glad you’re happy to be home,” Sarah said softly, and there was so much guilt in her voice that even through his anger, Lars almost felt sorry for her.
Almost.
Their mother appeared in the doorway. “There you are! All cleaned up, I see. Good job, Sarah.” She walked over to Lars and gently took the tiara out of his hair, setting it on the dresser. “Now, Emmy, you have school tomorrow, so we need to get you out of this costume and into your pajamas.”
“I can help her, Mom,” Sarah offered.
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