Y/N blinked, and a white ceiling swam into focus.

So much white.

It was like the world was trying to be clean.

He hated white now. It reminded him of snow.

And he was so tired of snow.

He was in a bed. The scratchy white sheets.

A hospital.

He closed his eyes for a second, just to try and block it all out. But behind his eyelids, the white was still there, burning into his vision. And then, under the white, there was Rain.

Her face, smiling at him, sweet and bright, the way it was at first.

The way it tricked him every life.

He could still feel her hands on his throat, even though it was over.

He opened his eyes fast, like he could shake the image away. It didn't work. Rain was still there, in his head, even if her body was gone.

He sat up in bed, his body aching and stiff. It was like he hadn't moved for a while.

His hands felt weird. He looked at them, turning them over in the grey light from the window. They looked normal.

Just his hands. But they felt heavy.

He swung his legs out of bed, the cold floor jolting him awake a little more. He was in the hospital gown.

He shivered, not just from the cold, but from everything. He stood up, slowly, and walked over to the window.

A city.

He pressed his forehead against the cold glass, trying to ground himself. But the city outside just felt distant. Like it was happening behind a screen, not something he was actually a part of.

He closed his eyes again, and this time, instead of Rain, he tried to think of something else.

Something good.

He thought of home.

Not any of the previous loops.

Something that only he remembers, only he lived and he knows.

Maybe the first loop?

His real home. The house he grew up in. It wasn't fancy. It was kind of small, actually. But it was warm.

It smelled like... well home.

His mom's weird air freshener that she swore smelled like "ocean breeze" but really just smelled like chemicals and fake flowers.

He could picture the living room, the couch with the pattern that was probably ugly but he loved anyway.

His table, scratched up from years of toys and homework.

The bookshelf, overflowing with his dad's old paperbacks and the few video game guides he'd actually bought instead of just looking up online.

He could see the kitchen, small and cramped, but always full of food. His mom was always cooking something. Even when he said he wasn't hungry, she'd still make him a plate, just in case.

And his dad, always at the table, talking to her, or helping him with his homework, or just being there.

He could see his own room, upstairs, smaller than this hospital room, but filled with his stuff.

His video games stacked up on his desk, probably dusty. His guitar in the corner, gathering dust too, because he hadn't really played it in a while.

He could see his parents. His mom, with her kind eyes and her smile that could always make him feel better, even when he was being a grumpy teenager.

His dad, quieter, but always solid, always there to listen, to offer advice, or just to sit with him in silence when that was what he needed.

He could hear their voices. His mom's, warm and gentle, calling him down for dinner. His dad's, deeper, asking him about school, about his friends, about his day.

He could almost feel his mom's hand on his forehead when he was sick, checking if he had a fever.

He could almost feel his dad's hand on his shoulder, patting him, telling him he was proud.

A lump formed in his throat.

He hadn't thought about them properly, not really, not in how long? In all these loops, all this Rain stuff, it was like they'd faded. Become background noise.

But they weren't just scenery they were everything.

They were home. They were love. Real love. Not twisted.

But the kind that just was.

The kind that was always there, even when you messed up, even when you were being a jerk, even when you didn't deserve it.

Parental love.

People always talked about romantic love, about soulmates and destiny and all that stuff. But parental love that was something else.

Something deeper. Something unbreakable.

He remembered when he was little, maybe five or six, and he'd fallen out of a tree in the backyard. He hadn't broken anything, just scraped his knee and scared himself half to death. But he remembered his mom running out of the house, her face white with worry.

He remembered her scooping him up in her arms, holding him tight in her arms. He remembered his dad, kneeling down beside them, his voice tight, asking if he was okay, if he was hurt bad.

They'd fussed over him for hours, cleaning his knee, putting on a bandage, making him hot chocolate, letting him watch cartoons all afternoon. All for a scraped knee.

He remembered being sick with the flu, throwing up all night, feeling miserable and weak. His mom had stayed up with him the whole time, bringing him water, cold cloths for his forehead, just sitting beside his bed, watching over him.

He remembered his dad bringing him soup, even though he could barely keep it down. They'd taken turns checking on him, making sure he was okay, making sure he wasn't alone.

All for a stupid flu.

And he'd just taken it for granted. All of it. Their love, their care, their presence. He'd just assumed it would always be there, like the air he breathed, like the sun rising in the morning. He'd never really stopped to think about how precious it was, how rare, how real.

He was starting to cry now, tears welling up in his eyes, blurring the grey city outside the window. He hadn't cried in a very long time.

Not like this. Not for real.

He swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, trying to stop the tears, but they just kept coming. He didn't even know why he was crying.

Sadness? Regret? Gratitude? All of it, maybe. All mixed together, bubbling up inside him, overflowing.

He missed them. He missed his mom, his dad, his home. He missed the feeling of being loved, really loved, without strings, without Rain.

He had to get out of here.

Out of this white room, out of this hospital, out of this loop.

He had to find them. He had to see them again. He had to apologize. For everything. For taking them for granted, for forgetting them, for letting Rain whatever Rain was take over his life, his mind, his everything.

He turned away from the window.

Then, a nurse entered the room.

She looked at me and said "It seems your health has improved. Today, you'll be going home. Please wear these clothes." With that, she handed me a set of normal clothes before she left.

He walked over to a table beside the bed, picked up the get-well card.

It seems this is a variant of the apocalypse world.

Ira and Ren.

They'd written it. They were still around, in this loop.

He smoothed out the card, looked at the handwriting again. Ira's messy scrawl, Ren's neat, precise letters. They were waiting for him.

They said they'd visit later. He didn't want to wait.

After changing his clothes he took a deep breath.

He had to do something.

He straightened his shoulders.

He walked to the door, his bare feet padding softly on the tile. He reached for the handle, his hand trembling.

He opened the door and stepped out into the white hallway.

He walked down the hallway.

Walking straight. He was going to find out what was going on.

Find Rain.

You have to find her.

Kill her.

He pushed the thought away, shoved it down, buried it deep. He wouldn't listen to those voices anymore.

Even if they are him, even if they suffered in the past thousands of lives they shouldn't interfere with his problems.

He was going home by his own choice