(malereader insert [M/N] [L/N] Tokyo revengers + oc insert)
Living with the same routine everyday like a broken record for what felt like forever, you can't help but wish something would change; anything would do. So when it did came...
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March 4, 2003 Monday
無
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✦༝ ┉┉┉┉┉ ⋆ (Third Person Point of View)⋆ ┉┉┉┉┉ ༝✦
Thin white curtains dance with the gentle breeze coming from the small window, swaying and twirling like an elegant ballerina. Soft rays of sunlight invite themselves in, giving the small room an ethereal glow. A clay vase filled with various flowers, bask the light from the afternoon sun. Painted in pearl white, with its cracks filled with gold.
Yellow and white Japanese camellias¹, colourful zinnias² that resembles thousands of exploding fireworks, and gentle pink carnations³; flowers that hid different meaning with their lovely and endearing petals, all aimed towards the beauty sleeping in his casket.
The scene almost look like it came straight from a children's story book, with the princess sleeping in a bed with pristine white sheets, adored in a simple white gown, and beauty that even the evil queen herself would be envious of.
If not for the short but constant beeping sound from a machine located on top of the bed that monitors his stable heart rate, or the concerning amount of tubes entering and exiting his body, just to keep him alive for the past years.
Sleeping Beauty, that's what the nurses and doctors at Yokohama Rosai Hospital called the unconscious boy. Fitting, since no one can deny the natural charm he possess, not to mention his jagged scars that only made him unique even more. It's a shame, nobody has been able to wake up the slumbering royalty—not like he'll need it today.
For the first time in two years, an eyelid decorated by luscious dark and long eyelashes slowly opened, while the other remained shut. Lifeless mercury like eye stared at the colourless ceiling above his head. Mind disoriented, and body too weak to move. Black locks with washed-out red tips circle around the princess's head like the devil's halo.
Where is he? What's going on? He eyed the tubes connecting his body to different machinery. What happened? His throat felt painfully dry. Bones ache inside his sore muscles, a vein in his forehead pulse.
The last thing he recall is...what was it again? One long, fragile and pale finger twitch in agitation. Furrowing his eyebrows in worry, heart rate accelerating ever so slightly. Why can't he remember anything? No matter how much he tried searching his brain for answers, it always showed him a blank space. Nothing. A dead end. He can't remember anything!
Think! Think! Think! He just woke up from a coma, he shouldn't be straining himself. Yet something inside him wants to remember. Screaming at him that if he fail, he might never retrieve his memories ever again and he'll lose something forever.
