COMPULSIVE || tokyo rev.

♡ chap_seven.

❝ 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐆𝐎 ❞

⇢《 but you never wanted to leave. 》⇠

Hearing the typical alarm of hands harshly hitting metal doors, Y/N peeled Kazutora's eyes open with furrowed brows. Dread quickly seeped into his skin, feeling oddly hot despite the cool temperatures. Pulling himself out of bed, Kazutora followed the other juvenile delinquents before enacting his daily routine.

Today was the day.

The golden-eyed boy got out of his pajamas, closed the shower curtain, and turned the handle to the blue section. Cold water hit the top of his head, quickly spreading from the roots of his hair all the way down to his face and shoulders. It immediately woke him up, and yet Y/N continued to disconnect from the current reality. From the current moment. All Kazutora could do was move on autopilot, scrubbing himself with soap and water before moving on to the shampoo. Once he was done showering, he put on his day clothes before moving over to brush his teeth.

Y/N didn't know what to think, much less know what to feel. Today was Kazutora's day of release, and who knew when he would be discharged. The wardens never told anyone the exact time they would be picked up--just the day.

Spitting the toothpaste out of his mouth, Kazutora rinsed his toothbrush before heading over to roll call, lining up accordingly and with little attention. Y/N instantly replied to Kazutora's name with a simple "here" before zoning out once more, caring less about the chattering teenagers around him.

The idea of leaving this place didn't feel real. This was their sanctum, this was the place that guarded them from the undeniable facts of the outside world. This was their resting place, where they silently recovered from the trauma of their murder. The PTSD was still engraved into their head, and there were some moments when Y/N could still feel the phantoms that ached their nerves. The ghost of their past haunted them closely to heart.

Soon, it was time for breakfast. Kazutora grabbed a tray of food and sat down with the rest of his friends, choosing to sit right next to Chome. They knew--Chome, Keiichi, and Bunta--that Kazutora didn't want to talk to anyone. Just one look at his face would tell them that. So they remained quiet, quickly eating their food before continuing on with their day. If they were lucky, they'd be able to visit Kazutora later in the day.

By the time class rolled around, Y/N couldn't focus. Their mind was spirling, distorted memories of being assaulted with a metal bat clung to the creased edges of their thoughts. The main center point was about what Y/N would do once Kazutora was out of there. Running into people whom Kazutora used to know..., particularly Baji Keisuke, and by extension he would have to face Sano Manjirou either in person or by word of mouth. Y/N didn't want to see either of them, as it would only further prove that this world was no longer fiction. That they were, in fact, Hanemiya Kazutora.

Although they were finally able to accept the fact that the people around them had names and were real people, those people were never significant enough in the story for it to be any real obstacle. Fuck, most of them didn't even exist before now. But facing popular, well-loved characters from Tokyo Revengers, knowing their future--it was heartbreaking. What was even worse was that they were forced into the body of a controversial kid amongst the fanbase. There were people who adored Kazutora with all of their might, and there were people who detested him for the mistakes he had made.

Y/N understood both sides of the story, but that didn't mean that they ever wanted to be dropped dead center of it.

Tapping the desk with his pen, today was the first time in juvie that Kazutora didn't complete an assignment. Y/N's hoard of emotions distracted them from concentrating, and it wasn't like a couple of zeros in the grade book was going to affect their overall A-B performance over the course of two years. It was just like day one of being here. They could hear the ticking sound of the clock; they could hear the subtle movements of each student at their desk, along with the sound of the instructor's voice panging his ears.