COMPULSIVE || tokyo rev.

✧ _prologue.

❝ 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑! ❞

⇢《 you don't have a choice. 》⇠

Tears pricked the corners of their eyes, feeling heavy and desperate. Everything was blurry, and they could smell the harsh scent of their own blood, soaking their hair as it ran down the side of their head. Y/N didn't know what happened, really. One moment they were walking home from box practice and the next minute they were ambushed. Hit with a metal baseball bat so hard that they couldn't think for a second to fight back.

Right now, all of their limbs were quickly growing numb. Y/N could no longer feel any of them; not their bruises or broken bones, not their bleeding head nor the swollen purple eye that formed. They didn't know why they were attacked so suddenly, as they had always been morally righteous... but Y/N supposed that it didn't matter anymore.

L/N Y/N was going to die. But I don't wanna die, they internally cried, yet not a peep came from their throat. They lost all energy long ago, and the assaulter had left moments before. Y/N wasn't even given a chance to realize what was happening before the person attacked, leaving Y/N all the more vulnerable.

They didn't want to close their eyes, yet everything felt so damn heavy. Their breaths slowed down, up until they no longer could. As they begrudgingly closed their eyes, Y/N whispered desperate pleas for life before drifting off into an undesirable slumber.

Only to wake up in an uncomfortable bed, located in an unfamiliar room. A gasp flew past their lips, heart racing as it rapidly pumped blood through their veins. Y/N could finally breathe again, but for what? What even happened? Sweat dripped down from the side of their face, breathing heavily as they held their chest tightly. Where am I?

Sitting up, Y/N squeezed the thin layer of blankets that was covering them, looking around to assess their surroundings. From the looks of it, Y/N wasn't the only one in the room. It was currently nighttime, and there were two bunk beds, Y/N being placed on one of the bottom bunks. Who even... Y/N then glanced down at what they were wearing, eyes widening in shock at the words imprinted. Juvenile Detention and Reform? So, juvie? But that didn't make sense. Y/N has always carried strong morals, and yet here they were. This must be a mistake. That was until Y/N came to a haunting realization after observing their upper torso and hands. I don't look like this. Why am I so much smaller and... younger looking?

Y/N's eyes furrowed, gulping down a cry from their confusion. Nothing made sense. Nothing felt right. This wasn't their body, they knew this, but that would be completely absurd, right? It's quite literally impossible for a person's body to magically change overnight? Unless they were dreaming? Right, Y/N shook their head, this is nothing more than a dream. Or maybe this was the afterlife? They did die, after all. But if this was the afterlife, then this sure was a fucking weird one.

Breathing in, Y/N focused on keeping a steady pace, their lungs scorching from the emotional turmoil. It was quite awful, don't you think? Being attacked by a person that they didn't even know, only to die and wake up in some unfamiliar place and be branded as a juvenile delinquent. It made absolutely no sense to Y/N; at least, that was the information that they gathered after looking around for a short bit.

They were tempted to stand up but felt awkward doing so. The iron door was obviously locked, and if this indeed was juvie like their pajama uniform stated, then acting irrationally would be a terrible idea. So waiting patiently, even if they had no idea what was going on, was the best course of action. At least I am alive.