I have been dragged out. Or should I say… I've been thrown out of the damn hospital like a sack of potatoes.
And whose fault is it?
Mine.
Well… partially.
I mean, can you blame me? One minute, I'm ranting about a fictional character abandoning his lover, and the next? I'm waking up as said lover. If screaming like a lunatic wasn't justified, I don't know what is!
But nooooo. Apparently, yelling "WHY MEEEEE?!" at the top of my lungs in a hospital is enough to get security involved.
And Marco?
Alfio's best friend.
That traitor.
Did he try to help? Stop me? Calm me down?
No.
The dude just stood there, watching the whole thing like I was the star of a freaking soap opera. And when security asked if he knew me?
'I don't know this man. Never seen him before in my life.'
I swear I heard the sound of my soul shattering right then and there.
And now?
I'm home.
Except… this is definitely not my home.
Ugh… This isn't even my life.
I've always seen those TV dramas where the leads are broke but somehow live in fancy apartments, carry the latest smartphones, and dress like they're sponsored by Gucci. I was hoping for that too. I mean, Alfio Russo—the main character of this godforsaken novel—is supposed to be broke, but I was at least expecting a cool, aesthetic apartment.
Maybe a chic, minimalist loft with marble floors and a skyline view?
You know, typical tragic main character aesthetics.
But… this?
I blinked.
I stared at the small, slightly messy apartment with peeling paint and a half-dead plant by the window.
The place was a disaster.
Empty instant noodle cups and takeout boxes were piled up on a tiny table in the corner. Clothes—clean or dirty, who even knows?—were strewn across the floor.
And was that…
Is that a cockroach?!
...
"Please… please…" I whispered, looking up at the sky.
Well… not exactly the sky. It was more like a cracked ceiling with water stains that looked suspiciously like a frowning face. But whatever. Technically, I was looking toward the heavens.
"Whoever's up there… God, Jesus, Buddha, fairies, angels… even demons."
I paused, blinking.
"At this point, I'll take anything."
"SOMEONE TAKE ME BACK TO MY FUCKING HOME!" I screamed, my voice echoing off the grimy walls.
"Man… I think we really need to call a mental hospital. And FYI, we are home, dude." Marco's voice floated over from the kitchen, sounding way too calm for the absolute nightmare I was living in.
I whipped my head around and glared at him.
Oh, now he remembers me?
This is Alfio's best friend. Just look at him, standing there, acting like he knows me now. Then, without a care in the damn world, he glanced at his phone and said—
"Dude… I gotta go. I need to pick up my girl."
And he left.
Left me alone.
…
…
HE'S A TRAITOR.
Alfio—your best friend is a traitor.
Then, I flopped onto the old, rusty couch with a dramatic sigh.
Silently.
Dead.
And that's when it hit me.
"That's right." I sat up, eyes wide with sudden realization. "I GOT IT. I'M DREAMING."
I mean… this damn novel's ending was so traumatizing that I had to be dreaming. Any reader would be after witnessing that kind of disaster.
You expect a happy ending, right? Our two beloved ships walking down the street hand in hand, kissing under the sunset.
But what do we get instead?
Tragedy. Pain. Death.
Of course, I'm dreaming.
"I'll just go back to sleep… and when I wake up…" I squeezed my eyes shut, whispering like a desperate man clinging to the last shreds of sanity. "Everything will be back to normal."
Right?
…
Right?!
...
Except… it didn't happen.
My eyes fluttered open after what felt like an eternity.
I blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
Still here.
I was still lying on this godforsaken, lumpy couch that felt like it had survived three world wars and a zombie apocalypse. The same grimy ceiling stared back at me, cracks forming a pattern that suspiciously looked like a middle finger aimed directly at me.
"Oh, come on…" I muttered, rubbing my eyes. Maybe if I blinked enough, I could glitch back to reality.
I opened them again.
Nope.
Still in this disaster of an apartment.
"YOU'VE GOTTA BE KIDDING ME!"
I sat up, running a hand through my hair, and stared at the peeling paint on the walls, the dead plant by the window, and—
Was that…?
Another cockroach?!
"Great," I mumbled, watching the little bastard scurry into a crack like it owned the place.
I tilted my head back, glaring at the ceiling again.
"Really?" I deadpanned. "That's it? No divine intervention? No magical wake-up call?" I pointed a finger upward, narrowing my eyes at heavens, angels, and fairies.
"Oh, I get it. You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
Silence.
"I see how it is. Alright, fine."
I flopped back onto the couch with a loud groan, arms spread dramatically like a tragic lead in a soap opera.
"Let's just torture Luca a little longer, huh? Make him suffer; is that what you're playing at?"
I glanced at the ceiling again, squinting. "Is this because I skipped that temple visit last year?"
Still silence.
"Or maybe because I cursed out the delivery guy when he forgot my extra sauce?"
Nothing.
"Okay, okay. I get it. I'M SORRY!" I threw my hands in the air. "Now, can we PLEASE go back to my real life?"
…
Silence.
A cockroach scuttled across the floor.
"Oh, screw you," I muttered, flopping back down.
But then… Wait.
My eyes widened as a genius idea struck me like lightning.
"Of course!" I sat up, smacking my forehead. "Why didn't I think of this earlier?!"
I pointed a finger at myself, determination blazing in my eyes.
"Luca. Think. What happened before you woke up here? I… slipped, and… I bumped my head."
My lips parted as the epiphany hit me.
"That's it!" I grinned like a madman. "If hitting my head sent me here…"
I stood up, eyes darting around the tiny apartment, searching for something—anything—that could do the job.
"Maybe… bumping it again will send me back!"
It made perfect sense!
Right?
…Right?!
My gaze landed on the rusty armrest of the couch.
"That should do."
I nodded, rolling my shoulders like a man about to perform a heroic act. "Alright. Let's do this."
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and—
WHAM.
I threw myself at the couch.
BAM.
My forehead collided with the rusty armrest.
…
"Ow."
Pain exploded through my skull as I stumbled back, blinking stars out of my eyes.
"Shit."
I lost my balance and—
THUD.
Fell straight onto the floor.
And I just… lay there.
Flat. Face down. Like a damn omelet. Sprawled out on the grimy floor of this depressing, roach-infested apartment.
Devastated.
Defeated.
Depressed.
In this depressing-ass apartment.
I didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Didn't even breathe for a second.
Just… lay there.
Motionless.
Because what was the point?
The universe had spoken.
"I'm still here…" I mumbled, my voice muffled by the cold, dusty floor.
A shadow passed in my peripheral vision.
The cockroach. The SAME one, It scurried past me again. But this time… I swear.
It slowed down.
Paused.
And if I wasn't losing my damn mind— that little bastard was laughing at me.
LAUGHING.
The cockroach had the audacity to just crawl into another crack in the wall, leaving me alone with my misery.
"I'm still here…" I whispered again, the words dripping with despair.
I rolled onto my back, eyes staring up at the same grimy ceiling that mocked me earlier.
"I'm still… Alfio Russo."
Alfio. Fucking. Russo.
"The tragic bastard…" I muttered, my lips trembling as the full horror settled in. "Who's fated to die in that horrific fire?"
...
My breathing quickened; my eyes widened. "No… No, no, no, no, no."
I sat up, clutching my head as panic clawed at my throat.
"I'm not just stuck in this novel…" My voice dropped to a whisper, dread dripping from every syllable. "I'm stuck as the guy who DIES. In flames. A fiery, gruesome, painful death."
"I… I am fucking doomed to hell."
That horrifying realization hit me like a freight train, and I shot up from the floor, heart pounding like it was ready to leap out of my chest.
"No. Nope. Hell no."
Panic clawed at my throat as I stumbled to my feet, my mind spiraling into overdrive.
"I can't just lie here and accept this." I muttered, pacing back and forth like a man on the edge. "I refuse to be roasted like a damn marshmallow in some tragic ending!"
My feet moved faster, my thoughts racing even faster.
"If I can't go back as Luca…" I whispered, teeth clenched, my jaw tightening with newfound resolve. I stopped pacing, eyes narrowing as I stared at the cracked wall in front of me.
"Then I'll change the damn fate of this novel."
Exactly.
"I'll change the fate of Alfio Russo."
My fists clenched at my sides, determination burning in my veins. "I'm not going down without a fight."
My heart pounded harder, adrenaline surging through me.
"If this world thinks I'm just gonna follow the script…" I tilted my head back, glaring at the ceiling one more time. "Then they've got another thing coming."
I pointed a finger upward, eyes blazing.
"You hear that, universe?!" My voice echoed through the small apartment. "I'm rewriting this story. So buckle the fuck up!"
A spark ignited in my chest.
"Luca Moretti or Alfio Russo…"
I smirked, determination flashing in my eyes.
"Doesn't matter. All I know is...I'm not dying in this goddamn novel."