𝗖𝗬𝗖𝗟𝗘 𝗢𝗙 𝗜𝗡𝗦𝗔𝗡𝗜𝗧𝗬
ғᴛ. sᴀɴᴏ ᴍᴀɴᴊɪʀᴏ
⌈Tokyo Revengers⌋
ᯓ꒰ •̫͡-•̫͡꒱ᯓ
❘❘❘❘❘❘ ❛ Returning back to the past, you ended up being entangled with your one and only lover in the past whom you've sworn to yourself was someone you hate. Turn...
━─── You had no fucking clue how you ended up in this situation.
Because for someone who was supposed to be sinking to the bottom of the ocean, lungs burning, limbs heavy as lead, why the hell did you feel warm?
Then—
Riiinnngggg.
The sound cut through the quiet like a jagged knife, distant yet grating, a shrill tone that sent a shiver down your spine. It wasn't just a ring, it was an old-school chime, a metallic trill that belonged to a time long past, the kind of noise that echoed through childhood memories like a ghostly whisper.
"...."
Your eyes snapped open, pupils contracting against the dim light. It took a second for your mind to register the fact that you were even awake. Three things immediately smacked you in the face:
One: You felt warm. Comfortably so. Like you were tucked under a thick-ass blanket instead of drowning in freezing water.
Two: You were fucking breathing. Air filled your lungs easily, no burning sensation, no suffocating pressure, just a smooth, effortless breaths.
Three: You were hearing a goddamn ringtone.
Since when the fuck did they put phones at the bottom of the ocean?!
Dazed, you pushed yourself up, fingers instinctively rubbing at your blurry eyes. Your body felt... normal. No waterlogged limbs. No heaviness. Just you, sitting in a bed that shouldn't exist.
And then you saw it.
Your heart slammed against your ribs as your gaze swept over the room, the familiar interior, the walls, the furniture, the little imperfections that only you would recognize. It was a perfect recreation of something that shouldn't exist anymore.
Your house. The one you used to own. The one that had burned to the fucking ground.
Your breath hitched. A wobbly smile stretched across your face, but it felt wrong, uncertain. Slowly, as if the mere act could shatter the illusion, you lifted your hands to your face and covered your eyes.
"One... two... three."
You peeked through your fingers, praying that the sight before you would shift, dissolve, prove itself to be some sick hallucination. But nothing changed. The walls remained solid, the air smelled of old wood and fabric softener, and the weight of the blanket over your legs was real.
