𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 || 𝐓𝐨𝐤𝐲𝐨 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟒

I waved goodbye to Fumiko and closed the door to my apartment. I slowly sank to the floor, my head a jumbled mess. Everything felt so out of place; these dreams... no, nightmares kept me from sleeping peacefully at night. And I never get more than maybe 4 hours. This was all so fucked up. 

I got up and headed back to my room, sitting down at my desk and opening my notebook. I usually kept this thing in case I had any new ideas for my manuscript, but seeing as I haven't been able to think of anything but these nightmares, might as well put it to use. I grabbed a pen and started writing down everything I could remember from the past few nights. The point of view I was having these dreams in, who was in them and what I was... or whoever I was more like, was doing. God, it made no sense. 

I wrote down anything and everything. Anything that seemed important. I couldn't wrap my head around it. Why was I having these dreams? And why did that man, Ken Kaneki appear in them? 

Ah. Ken Kaneki. 

I wrote down his name, as to not forget. I stared down at it, my hands shaking slightly as I put the pen down. I inhaled a shaky breath, trying to keep myself from unraveling. Between work, my mother and now this, it was all getting to be too much. I glanced over at the picture of my mother I had on my nightstand and grabbed it. I looked down at it, a small frown forming on my lips. 

She didn't look a day over 30, despite being in her early 40's. Though she had grey hair naturally, it didn't make her look older. A few wrinkles here and there, but she was still a beautiful woman. My mother was an author and published a few books, and I read all of them as a child even when she insisted on me reading picture books instead. She was somewhat famous and I guess that's where my love for writing stemmed from.

However, I wasn't as blessed as she was. Cursed with ugly hair that becomes frizzy even after just towel drying it, the amount of times I thought about dyeing my hair a natural color can't be counted on my fingers and toes combined. The only thing I actually don't mind about myself is my eyes. When I first met Fumiko she said they reminded her of a corpse. I guess that's pretty cool, though I don't know how I feel about being compared to a dead body. Then when I was 6, around the time my father started practicing, my mother randomly left and never came back. It was all so sudden, I couldn't even process it. I was just a child, after all.

"Why did you leave me?" I said quietly, my gaze lingering on my mother's face. My eyes then locked onto the man who stood next to my mother. My father, dressed in his lab coat and holding his certificate of medical practice. He was the only real family I had left. I rarely ever saw him because he was so busy with work. And when I did try to call him to schedule dinner or something, it went straight to voicemail. It was so like my father. Always getting sucked into his work and hobbies... He was always a hard worker. Even before he met my mother.

Then there's me. A disappointment who just turned 20 last week and is working for a publishing company as a wannabe writer who can't even get a decent manuscript submitted to her boss. I haven't even gotten laid yet. How fucking sad. The only somewhat decent quality about myself is that I enjoy physical activity. Fumiko calls it dumb, but I don't think it is one bit. I've always been a been on the slimmer side, lacking muscle mass and what not. I've been taking Judo classes to try and get back into the groove, since I used to train as a child. But since getting a job and working, it's not exactly the easiest. My dad called me a 'Judo prodigy' because I was able to take down one of my instructors at 13. Thinking back on it, I just think my instructor was taking it easy on me since I was a kid. Definitely was a cool accomplishment back then. But I've definitely improved since then, 7 whole fucking years later...

I angrily slammed the picture back on the nightstand and stood up, unbuttoning my blouse and jeans. I tossed them into the laundry hamper and stormed off to the bathroom to get a bath running when I looked in the mirror. My hair was all frizzy and disheveled and I had some serious bags under my eyes. I hit my fist against my forehead repeatedly, exhausted both physically and mentally. Slowly, I slipped into the hot bath and immediately felt my body relax. The tension in my muscles slowly disappeared and it was almost like life was worth living once again. 

That was, until I got a call. Cursing out loud, I grabbed my phone and answered it. Realizing it was an unknown number, I decided to answer like a dick. "Hello?" I spat, waiting for a response. On the other end was a man's voice.

"Is this Ari?"  I cocked an eyebrow and spoke.

"Yes? Who's this?" I asked, my eyes narrowing. The man took a few seconds before he answered. 

"This is Mako, from work? I work in the editing department. 8th floor." He said awkwardly, and I nodded. 

"Oh, hi." I said flatly, trying to remember who Mako was.

The sort of cute guy from the 8th floor. I had to go to him to get a few documents processed and edited for an article. If I recall, he had short brown hair and greenish eyes and wore glasses. How the hell did he get my number?

I heard a rustling noise coming from the other end of the line and Mako spoke again. 

"Fumiko gave me your number and uh..."

So that's how he got it. Good to know.

He paused again before inhaling, "Iwaswonderingifyouwantedtograbdinnersometime?" The last part of his sentence came out rushed and sounded like gibberish to me, but I managed to decipher what he had said. I deadpanned, my jaw nearly dropping. 

There's no way in hell I just got asked out. Is this a sign? Oh, thank you heavenly father from above, hallelujah!

After taking a moment to thank the being who blessed me I responded in a flat tone, "Um, yeah, sure. That'd be nice. When are you free?" I asked, trying to hide the quiver in my voice. Mako said he'd check his schedule, and told me this Friday would work. I thanked him and ended the call, staring down at my phone. 

What the actual fuck just happened? 

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