⁺◦ 𝔥𝔬𝔱 | 𝘀𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀 .

↳ 𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 .

an alarm isn't what forces you to open your eyes this morning. a pain so excruciating pulls your mind apart, and you can't tell if it's a headache or something much more severe. all of the light flooding your eyes all at once only makes things worse. your vision blurs, but that doesn't stop you from making your way to the bathroom to splash some water on your face.

"i really need to stop clubbing during the week."  you tell yourself, making a mental note that you're not as invincible as you once thought you were.

the same steps that you take to get to the bathroom each morning feel awfully different today. the floor feels colder and the distance from your bedroom to it seems longer. once your vision finally corrects itself, you're standing right in front of the bathroom.

you try to push your way into the bathroom, only to find the door immovable.

is the door locked?  since when did daniel, my roommate, start locking the door?

"danny! let me in, i need to wash my face!" your voice is loud, a little too loud for your liking.

between your headache and the urge to throw up getting stronger by the second, patience is a luxury that you can no longer grant him. you start banging at the door now, uncaring of the disruption that you're making.

the water finally stops running, and you know that it's only a matter of time before danny answers you. slowly, the door creeps open, but the person before you doesn't seem all that familiar. you know exactly how danny looks, so the muscular man with glasses sitting atop the bridge of his nose scares you.

"why'd you call me danny?" the stranger asks you, as he cleans the lens of his glasses with a towel.

"who are you?" you ask the strange, yet adorable guy that seems to have replaced danny as your roommate.

the stranger cocks his head to the side, shooting you a look that makes you think you're actually dreaming.

maybe danny knows this guy. maybe i am dreaming right now, so none of this is real.

"hoshi, are you drunk?" the stranger asks, trying his best to stifle his laughter.

what did he just call me? why does that name sound so familiar to me?

"why are you calling me th-" you stop yourself from finishing the sentence.

you push past the stranger, desperate to get a grasp on what's actually going on. you stare at your reflection in the mirror and nearly have a heart attack.

i am not myself. i am not (y/n) anymore.