BOYFRIEND

CHAPTER 2

Chapter 2: Back to Where It Began

Takeshi couldn't move.

He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his grandmother, who looked exactly the way she had when he was seventeen—before she got sick, before everything fell apart. Her soft, wrinkled face was so familiar, yet the sight of her made his chest tighten painfully.

"Takeshi, are you listening? You're going to be late for your first day of high school!" she repeated, her voice light with humor but firm with that underlying tone of expectation. "Come on now, you don't want to be late on your first day!"

"Y-Yeah," he mumbled, still in shock, but he forced himself to move, swinging his legs off the bed. His feet touched the cold wooden floor, grounding him to the present—or rather, the past. The weight of what had happened hit him like a tidal wave. He had travelled back in time. He was seventeen again.

His grandmother, alive and well, stood in front of him, exactly how he remembered her. And outside, in the world he once knew, Yuto Kiyoshi would be a high school freshman again, just like him.

What the hell is going on?

Takeshi's hands trembled as he reached for the old school uniform hanging on the back of his chair. The fabric felt strange in his hands, as though it didn't belong to him anymore. In a way, it didn't. He wasn't that kid anymore—the reckless, angry teenager who used his fists more than his words. He was a man now, or at least he had been. A broken, desperate man who had lost everything.

And yet here he was, back where it all began.

His mind raced as he dressed, slipping into the familiar uniform that felt like a relic from another life. His reflection in the mirror was that of a seventeen-year-old—a boy with messy black hair, a scowl etched permanently into his features, and dark eyes that had seen more than they should have at that age. He touched his face, disbelief washing over him. He looked so young.

"I'm waiting, Takeshi!" his grandmother's voice called from the hallway, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Coming," he muttered, grabbing his old school bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

As he walked down the narrow hallway to the kitchen, the smells of breakfast filled the air—rice, miso soup, and grilled fish. His stomach growled, reminding him that it had been ages since he'd had a meal like this. Yuto had always cooked, but even his food hadn't felt like this—a warm, comforting reminder of simpler times.

His grandmother smiled warmly as she set a plate down at the table. "Eat up. You'll need your energy for your first day."

Takeshi sat down, staring at the food, his appetite suddenly gone. His mind was still spinning, trying to grasp the reality of his situation. How had this happened? Why was he here? More importantly—what was he supposed to do now?

After a few moments, he forced himself to eat, the familiar taste of home-cooked food almost bringing tears to his eyes. He hadn't realized how much he had missed this—missed her. He swallowed hard, blinking back the emotion threatening to overwhelm him.