Hana's consciousness Found its way back to reality, The room was a haze of antiseptic smells and soft beeps, her head throbbing under a weight that felt both foreign and familiar. Her eyelids fluttered, heavy as lead, until they cracked open to reveal a sterile room bathed in the glow of fluorescent lights. The Willbrook University infirmary, she realized, recognizing the faded blue curtains and the bulletin board plastered with health posters. A dull ache radiated from her temples, and her limbs felt like they'd been filled with sand.
"Miss Tanaka, you're awake," a calm voice said. A nurse, middle-aged with kind eyes framed by wire-rimmed glasses, leaned over her, checking a clipboard. "You gave us quite a scare there."
Hana tried to speak, but her throat was dry, her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth. She managed a croak. "What… happened?"
The nurse adjusted her IV drip. "You took a nasty fall down the Hawthorne Hall stairs two days ago. Concussion, some bruises, and you've been in a coma since. We were worried, but your vitals stabilized this morning. The doctor will be in soon."
Two days? Hana's mind reeled, fragments of memory flickering like a glitchy video tape. The stairs, her phone, the BL novel, Pitch Perfect Passion. Then… darkness. And something else, vivid and surreal: a soccer field, sweat-slicked bodies, the pulse of adrenaline in a body that wasn't hers. Adrian Vega's body. The locker room, the shower, the mortifying erection. Her cheeks flushed at the thought, and she shoved it down. Just a dream, she told herself. A crazy, BL-fueled dream. Her obsession with Boys' Love had clearly hijacked her unconscious mind while she was out cold, spinning a fantasy so real it left her heart racing.
The doctor, a wiry man with a salt-and-pepper beard, arrived minutes later. He shone a penlight in her eyes, asked her to follow his finger, and nodded approvingly. "You're lucky, Miss Tanaka. No fractures, but that concussion was serious. You'll need to take it easy, no screens for long, no strenuous activity. I'm prescribing painkillers and something to help with dizziness. Be careful, stay aware of your surroundings, and come back if you feel off."
Hana nodded weakly, her head still wrapped in a fog. The doctor handed her a small bag of meds and discharge papers, and the nurse helped her sit up. Her body protested, her ankle throbbed, her elbow was stiff, and a bandage circled her forehead, itching against her skin. She caught her reflection in a small mirror by the bed: pale, freckles stark against her skin, her dark hair matted. She looked like she'd been through a war.
As she shuffled out of the infirmary, leaning on a borrowed crutch, the campus seemed both familiar and alien. It was late afternoon, the September sun casting golden rays across the quad of Willbrook University. Students milled about, some heading to the dining hall, others laughing in clusters. A few glanced her way, their eyes lingering on her bandages with curiosity or pity. Hana ducked her head, her old invisibility clashing with the unwanted attention. She overheard snippets of conversation as she hobbled toward Hawthorne Hall.
"Did you see the match? Vega was unreal, that trick against Easton!"
"Friendly or not, that's gotta put him on every scout's radar."
Adrian. His name jolted her, stirring memories of that vivid dream. Running drills in his body, feeling his muscles move, the locker room chaos. She shook her head, wincing at the pain. Stop it, Hana. It wasn't real. But the coincidence nagged at her, Adrian scoring a hat trick the day after she "dreamed" of being him, Weirdly satisfying. She pushed it aside, blaming her concussion for the mental overlap.
By the time she reached her dorm room, exhaustion weighed her down like a lead blanket. The familiar sight of her BL sanctuary greeted her: posters of sweaty soccer players, vampire lords, and warrior lovers plastered across the walls. Her shelves sagged with novels, their spines creased from countless re-reads. She slumped onto her narrow bed, the springs creaking, and fished her phone from her backpack. The screen was cracked from the fall, but it still worked. Temptation tugged at her, just a peek, at the latest chapter of Pitch Perfect Passion. The doctor's warning about screens echoed faintly, but her fingers moved on autopilot, opening the app.
The words blurred before her eyes, not from the concussion but from sheer fatigue. Kai and Ryo's latest encounter, a stolen moment in a rain-soaked alley, faded as her eyelids drooped. Just a quick nap, she thought, her phone slipping onto the bed. The world dimmed, and she sank back into darkness, her mind whispering one last thought: What if I could live in that world again?
---
Hana snapped awake to the thump of bass and the raucous laughter of Boys. The air was thick with the smell of beer and pizza, undercut by the faint musk of sweat and cologne. She blinked, disoriented, her body once again feeling… wrong. Strong. Broad-shouldered. Not again. She glanced down, yep, there it was: Adrian Vega's body, clad in a tight black T-shirt and jeans, a red solo cup in her, his-...hand. Her heart leapt, a giddy thrill coursing through her. I'm back It's the dream again! If her coma had conjured this BL fantasy once, why not twice? She grinned, deciding to lean into it. No consequences in a dream, right? Just pure, unfiltered fanservice.
She took in her surroundings: a cramped dorm room in one of Willbrook's male residence halls, probably the upperclassmen's building judging by the nicer furniture. Punk rock blared from a portable speaker, something loud and angsty, perfect for a post-match vibe. The room was packed with Willbrook Warriors players, sprawled across couches and beanbags, red cups in hand. Pizza boxes littered a coffee table, and fairy lights strung along the walls gave the space a cozy, chaotic energy. It was an after-party, clearly celebrating the friendly match win against Easton College. Hana's inner fangirl squealed. A classic BL party scene! teammates with alcohol-fueled confessions misunderstandings waiting to happen!