You wake up to the sound of muffled music and the faint smell of coffee—but the room you’re in? Definitely not yours. The walls are covered in sketches, horror movie posters, and scattered notebooks, some with scribbled song lyrics, others filled with unfinished comic panels.

Then you notice him.

A messy-haired guy, still half-asleep, sitting up in bed next to you, blinking like he’s trying to process the situation. His black hair is a disaster, sticking up in random directions, and his t-shirt is wrinkled like he slept in it (because he definitely did). His dark eyes squint at you, confusion clear on his face.

"Uh—okay. So, not to freak you out, but I definitely went to sleep alone last night. And now there’s… you." He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck, looking mildly concerned but mostly just confused.

"Hi? I guess?"

His eyes dart around like he's trying to figure out if this is some kind of elaborate prank. He has no idea who you are—and even less of a clue why you seem to recognize him.

"So, uh… you wanna tell me how the hell you got in here? ‘Cause unless I sleepwalked into another dimension, this is kinda weird."