The punk rock beats throbbed in Hana's ears,bAdrian's ears, like a relentless heartbeat, the dorm room spinning in a haze of laughter and neon lights. She'd lost count of the beers she'd downed, each one loosening her inhibitions further in this dream world. why not?, she'd thought earlier, her inner fangirl egging her on. It's not real. No hangover in a dream. But now, as she leaned against the wall, the room tilting like a funhouse mirror, she realized she might have pushed it too far. Dan had wandered off to chat with some other teammates, Julien still brooding in his corner like a statue carved from mystery, and Tyler was leading a raucous chant about the hat trick Adrian had apparently scored in the match.
Hana raised the red solo cup to her lips one more time, the bitter foam sliding down Adrian's throat. The alcohol burned pleasantly, warming her from the inside out, making the BL fantasies swirl even wilder in her mind. What if Dan likes adrian? Or Julien secretly has a crush on Tyler? But her thoughts blurred, the voices around her merging into a distant hum. She stumbled toward a beanbag chair, collapsing into it with a graceless thud. The last thing she registered was Tyler's booming laugh and someone yelling, "Vega's out cold!" Then, blackness swallowed her whole.
Pain lanced through Hana's skull like a jagged bolt, yanking her back to consciousness. She groaned, her hand instinctively reaching up to touch the bandage wrapped around her head. The rough gauze scratched against her fingers, a stark reminder of her fall down the stairs. Her real body; slender, achy, and utterly ordinary, lay tangled in her dorm room sheets, the faint light of dawn filtering through the curtains. No punk rock, no beer-soaked dorm party, no Adrian Vega's athletic frame. Just her, Hana Tanaka, alone in her BL sanctuary.
She sat up slowly, wincing as the room spun for a moment. The posters on her walls stared back at her, they seemed mocking now, their frozen passions a cruel contrast to her throbbing headache. What a wild dream, she thought, rubbing her temples. But as fragments of the night replayed in her mind, the banter with Dan, the wink at Julien, the cheers for Adrian's goals, a strange warmth bloomed in her chest. In that dream, she'd been Seen. Acknowledged. The center of attention, not the invisible girl fading into the background. People had laughed at her jokes (well, Adrian's jokes, but still), slapped her back, looked at her with admiration. It felt... good. Empowering. Like she mattered.
Hana swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet hitting the cool floor. Her reflection in the small mirror on her desk caught her eye: pale skin, slim nose, dark hair tousled and unkempt. Bandages aside, she looked the same as always—unremarkable. But inside, something shifted. Why do I have to live like a ghost? she wondered. The dream, coma-induced or not, had shown her a glimpse of confidence, of connection. Maybe it was time to stop hiding behind her BL novels and posters. Time to step out, make friends, be present. Resolved, she nodded to herself, ignoring the twinge of pain. Tomorrow, no, today, she'd start. Lectures awaited, and for once, she'd try to engage, maybe even raise her hand in class.
The night passed in fitful sleep, her mind replaying snippets of the party like a broken record. When morning came, Hana dragged herself out of bed, the bandage still snug around her head. She popped one of the painkillers the doctor had prescribed, washed it down with water from her mini-fridge, and dressed in her usual oversized hoodie and jeans. But today felt different; she stood a little taller as she shouldered her backpack and headed out of Hawthorne Hall. The campus was alive with the crisp September air, students bustling toward classes, the distant hum of a lawnmower adding to the mundane symphony. Willbrook University felt smaller somehow, less intimidating.
On her way to the lecture hall for her English Literature class, Hana navigated the crowded hallways of the humanities building. Voices echoed off the lockers and tiled floors, chatter about weekends, assignments, and the latest campus gossip. As she turned a corner, a group of guys in Willbrook Warriors jackets caught her eye. They were lounging against the wall, their athletic builds and easy camaraderie marking them as part of the football team. Her heart skipped a beat. Teammates, she thought, flashing back to the dream. Dan wasn't among them, nor Julien, but Tyler was there, along with a couple of others she vaguely recognized from her "dream" practice session.
They were mid-conversation, their voices carrying in the hallway. "...and Vega totally passed out on that beanbag! Man, he was hammered," one guy laughed, a lanky midfielder with curly hair.
Tyler snorted, crossing his arms. "Yeah, after that hat trick, who can blame him? But did you see him flirting with Dan? I thought Captain was gonna blush."
Another player, a defender with a buzz cut, chimed in. "And that wink at Julien? Broody boy's face was priceless. Party was lit, though, pizza, punk rock blasting. Vega's on fire lately, but weird as hell."
Hana froze mid-step, her blood turning to ice. Hmm, what ??? The details matched exactly.... the beanbag, the flirting, the wink, even the music. How could they know about her dream? It was impossible. Her mind raced: the hat trick she'd heard about in the infirmary, the party she'd "experienced" as Adrian. Coincidence? But this was too precise, too eerie. Spooked, she edged closer, pretending to fiddle with her backpack strap while stylishly trying to eavesdrop. She lingered by a nearby vending machine, her ears straining.
"...yeah, and Tyler, you challenging everyone to arm-wrestle? You almost broke the table," the midfielder continued, elbowing Tyler.
"Shut up, I won fair and square," Tyler shot back, grinning. "But seriously, Adrian's been off, more fun, though. Remember when he danced? Looked like a drunk giraffe."
The group burst into laughter, the sound echoing down the hall. Hana's breath caught. The dancing. I did that. Her heart pounded, a chill crawling up her spine. This wasn't a dream echoing reality; it was reality echoing her dream. Or... was the dream real? Had she somehow been Adrian? The thought was absurd, straight out of a supernatural BL novel, but the parallels were undeniable. Disoriented, she shifted too obviously, her crutch clattering against the vending machine.
The guys noticed her then, their laughter dying down. Tyler's eyes narrowed, recognition flickering, wait, did he know her? No, impossible. "Hey, you listening in?" he called out, his tone half-amused, half-annoyed.
The midfielder smirked. "Eavesdropping much? You're not a spy are you? bandage girl?."
Hana's face burned, her resolve crumbling under their stares. She mumbled a hasty "Sorry," turning away, but the buzz-cut defender added, "Mind your own business next time." They chuckled among themselves and sauntered off, their voices fading as they headed in the opposite direction.
Left alone in the hallway, Hana leaned against the wall, her knees weak. How? How do they know exactly what happened in my dream? Her mind spun with questions. The party details, the flirting, the passing out, the arm-wrestling, lined up perfectly. If it was just a coincidence, it was the creepiest one imaginable. But if it wasn't... if she'd somehow possessed Adrian's body... She shook her head, wincing at the pain. *Get a grip, Hana. You're concussed, not cursed.* Still, the spook lingered, a shadow over her newfound resolution.
Disoriented and reeling, she trudged to her lecture hall, the hallways blurring around her. Students streamed past, but she barely noticed, her thoughts a whirlwind. If it was real, what does that mean? Am I ruining his life? Or... living through him? The questions looped endlessly, drowning out the world. She slipped into her usual back-row seat, dropping her backpack with a thud. The professor entered, starting the lecture on Victorian poetry, his voice droning about themes of isolation and desire. But Hana didn't hear a word. She stared blankly at her notebook, pen hovering unused, her mind trapped in the echo of a party she shouldn't have known about. The bell signaling the start of class rang, but she didn't even notice, lost in the unraveling threads of dream and reality.