Two days have passed since the rat accident, and you are still debating on if you should give him something or not.

You actually bought a chocolate cake at the bakery down the street, it's been in your fridge since then.

You also finished a trinket. It was made with prettily arranged cute purple pearls. He reminded you of that color but you couldn't know why truly.

Overthinking was really going to be the end of you. It has been thirty minutes since you've been pacing in your apartment.

"Should I give him?"

"What if he finds it weird, or corny?"

"Maybe he hates purple...and chocolate too"

"Is it too much?"

"That's not a good idea at ALL"

It was like a crowd of people arguing in your head against the will of your heart.

"Maybe I should focus on what I feel like doing and not what and not what I should or not do?"

That thought alone really surprised you. You never thought like that before.

It sounds just like an advice that would come straight out of your mother's mouth.

It made you painfully smile for a moment.

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗

About an hour before you needed to leave for your shift you worked up the courage to go at his door with the cake and the trinket you made.

Knocking was a whole different story.

Five minutes passed, ten now, you could not move. You barely dared breathing.

It was like you brain just simply gave up, and you are way too scared to act on your feelings, even though you thought you probably should.

You tilt your head, frowning a confused expression at your own character. Your anxiety was almost comic to you. It was literally straight nonsense.

You were about to turn around and put back your stuff, his gifts, in your place before the door in front of you suddenly opens, Geto, surprised, appearing at his doorway.

A beat passes, then another one and you genuinely thought your heart felt to your feet.

What did you even looked like in this setting?

An obsessive neighbor?

"I... It's uh... I thought, you know... well..." you stutter, panicking as each half of words got out of your mouth.

He was still looking at you, silent. His head was slightly tilted like he was trying to form a sentence out of your words in his head.

That wasn't helping.

You sigh, disappointed in yourself for not even being able to speak like a normal person, before placing down on the floor the box with the cake in it and your trinket on top of it.

"For the rat," you say with a voice so quiet it was almost a murmur.

You then practically ran back to your apartment, slamming the door shut behind you. You fall into your bed, hands once again covering your face.

"Why's life so hard, seriously?"

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗

After your shift ended you were slowly walking back to your place, sipping on your favorite vanilla milk brick while admiring the already living streets.

Teenagers joking around and waiting for their buses, people as drunk as one could be, snoring loudly as they were sat down or laid down on the sidewalk, or people running to not miss their subway.

Everyone was just living their lives, and it's like you're spectating it without living yours.

How could you even think about living it without her there...?

You shook your head, not wanting to cry right now.

About fifteen minutes passed as you arrived in your building. You take the elevator and stop at your floor, the seventh.

You quickly walk along the hallway, hating the idea of people being bothered by any sound you would make passing by.

As you arrived at your door you stop in your track because of two things.

One, when you look at the floor in front of Geto's door there neither cake or trinket anymore.

Did he took it?

Or maybe someone else did?

Two, there was a yellow sticky note glued on your door. You take it off, frowning, while entering your apartment and closing the door behind you.

"For [𝜗𝜚]

I took in the cake and the trinket. I don't know if you made the trinket but it looks very pretty, and purple is my favorite color :) For the cake I want to eat it with you as you bought it. Knock on my door anytime.

ps: you should speak more, you have a beautiful voice."

He liked it!

He liked your trinket!

It made your heart warm for few seconds before reading it again, and again, and once more.

He invited you over?

And he said that you've got a pretty voice?

"Why is he lying for...?" You thought out loud.

It was surely only out of courtesy, he definitely looked like that type of guy.

How did he even got your name?

You read the note once more before folding it and placing it on your desk.

There was NO way you would have the courage to go knock at his door, especially to eat the cake you bought for him in his place.

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗

Later that day, after you woke up and barely ate an apple you gathered your dirty clothes in a bag and slept into your slippers.

It's been a week since your washing machine didn't work for whatever reason.

As anxious and an active hater of social interactions as you are obviously you would rather go to the laundry than ask for any help.

At least you had a laundry in your building, might as well use it.

After getting out of your apartment and waited for the elevator you click on the "-1" button, it is the laundry.

Once there, you took for about ten minutes to figure out how to use the machines.

You needed to slide in a small money container 500¥ to wash you clothes and then 100¥ for the washing machine to rinse them and wring them out.

As you did the little screen on the machine indicted an hour and nineteen minutes.

You looked around, standing for a minutes or two before finally sitting down on the small bench facing the washing machines on your side.

You crossed your legs and arms, leaning against the lockers behind you.

You have never seen lockers in a laundry. Maybe it made sense?

Twenty minutes passed. You were lost in your thoughts but couldn't put a finger on what you were even thinking about.

As you tilted your head slightly, humming a song which you didn't know the title to you hear the door handle moving.

You suddenly sit straight up, not knowing what to do with yourself.

Of course it was no other than Geto.

"What a lucky girl you are..." you think, sarcastically of course.

" [𝜗𝜚]." He smiles softly as he looks down at you.

Words lost at the bottom of your throat you simply give him the most hesitant half smile ever.

You immediately look back up at your washing machine, your fingers gripping tightly the fabric of your hoodie.

You could feel your heart racing as if you just ran an 500km marathon.

He makes his way to the washing machine right next to yours, places his coin in and turn the machine on.

He then turns around and sits next to you, like in the elevator last time, not too close, not looking at you.

Yet there was so much washing machines all around the room you couldn't understand why would he choose the one right next to yours.

You barely could see him getting his phone out of the pocket of his navy blue sweatpants.

Then you heard it.

The trinket.

It made your eyes turn towards it before your brain could even register anything.

He tied your trinket to his phone case.

"That means he likes it, right?" You think, immediately look back up at your washing machine, catching yourself looking at his phone.

You both sat in silence for few minutes, your fingers still gripping as tightly your hoodie and his still typing on his phone.

He then turns off his phone and sighs before slightly turning his head towards you.

"I wrote it but I need to say it to you as well. Thanks again for the gifts, you really didn't have to," he says, his voice quiet, serene, pretty.

You look back up at him for a second which felt like an hour to you before courtly nodding.

"He really has a beautiful voice"

"And beautiful eyes"

"And a pretty smile too"

The voices in your head seem to agree on that.

You then hear him sighs loudly, leaning against the lockers as he runs a hand on his face.

"Man..." he murmurs, looking up at the ceiling.

He seemed preoccupied by something.

"Is it because of me? I'd be pissed off too. Not even able to make a conversation with me because I can't even speak properly..."

Your thought was about to keep going.

"I'm not sighing because of you by the way," he cuts you right off, just like he was reading your mind again.

"It's just this stupid essay I have to submit in three days... I can't even finish my introduction." He continues, closing his eyes.

So he was going to college.

You cleared your throat, few seconds passed, you exhale.

"...What's your major?" you silently asked, still not looking at him though.

His head slowly turns back to you. You look up at him automatically. He looks surprised you asked him anything. Obviously you looked back up at your washing machine.

"Psychology," he responds, his smile audible. "Very interesting but pretty damn hard honestly," he chuckles.

You nod, thoughtful on your words, replaying your sentence over and over again before saying it.

"Before I dropped out I had that major too," you say, still as quietly.

He sits straight up, turning his body to face you.

"Really? At what year did you dropped off?" He enthusiastically asks, looking happy to finally have a conversation with you.

You breathe noiseless.

"Uh...Fourth? In the middle of it. It was in November, last year," you say, looking down at your feet. It didn't felt really great to say it out loud to anyone.

It only felt natural on top of your mother's grave.

A silence install itself for about a minute.

"Fourth? So you're twenty two years old?" he asks curiously his voice still as calm.

You're snatched out of your head by his question.

"Yeah," you whisper, or not totally but not far from it.

"You're older than me by a year," he snickers lightly. "I was so sure to be older than you."

You turn your head towards him, frowning as you look up at him.

He laughs lightheartedly, shaking his head. "Sorry," he barely words.

He had a beautiful laugh too.

And he wasn't wrong. You also thought he was older than you.

"That means you're...twenty one?" You continue as his laugh dies slowly.

"Yeah, turning twenty one in three months," he responds that smile never leaving his face.

You nod, yet you felt like your lungs were getting closer and closer inside your ribcage. You were making an interaction with someone that wasn't a customer.

That's revolutionary.

For few minutes he kept asking you question your college life. You found out you were both in the same college; the University of Tokyo. You also shared the same hatred for the same teachers that would give essays almost every time they had the occasion too.

He really was curious about all of that, yet it wasn't that interesting to you. However, it felt really great to finally speak and be able to laugh with someone.

It really helped that he was pretty mature and emotionally intelligent enough to understand how anxious you were about conversations. Men are not all blessed with the ability to use their brain, especially not the ones that just entered their twenties.

"You know what? I think you should help me for my essay," he starts, extending his crossed legs before him. "Then we could eat the cake you offered me."

You give him a surprised look. "Me? Helping you?"

"Mhm, to get a 85/100 with Mr. Yoshida you must be an ace at differential psychology..." his voice lingers lowly. "Please?"

──────────────────────

Today's November 17th, the day that took your mother away.

You hated it with your soul and guts. Even since she left, it's like life didn't made sense anymore. No more reason to eat, walk, talk or wake up. Nothing was worth it.

You had nothing to make it worth it.

She was your only family, your only friend, your only confident. And now, you had to stand in front of her grave, mimicking a conversation where your only words would simmer in the freezing and sinister wind of autumn, left unanswered.

"I don't go to university anymore," you said, your voice monotonous, "I eat chanpurū when I miss you more than usual. Mine isn't as good as yours. It doesn't have the you in it, you know?"

Then you started to feel your throat tightening, your lips trembling, your fingers gripping tightly your bouquet of hydrangeas, her favorite flower.

Your heart ached, ached so much you thought it had bled inside your chest. You could still hear her laughter in between the walls, sometimes you could hear the sound of her feet on the floor.

Sometimes it was like she was still here.

"Mom..." you began, before pressing your lips together. You settle the bouquet on the grave and made it out of the graveyard as fast as you could, running away from tears, from your emotions, from her death.

You had so much and nothing to say. You were feeling so much and nothing at the same time.

Walking back home was horrible ever since she left last year, especially today. You could feel it, the weight of your loss you try to avoid so much.

You could sense the scars on your forearm from two days ago, healing but still hurting, rubbing against the fabric of your hoodie. Maybe you should do it again?

To feel something?

To punish yourself?

To cry?

To materialize your pain?

You couldn't know, and before you even realize it you are already in your bathroom, a cutter in hand suspended on top of your naked and scarred arm.

Nothing.

You felt nothing.

The blade kept slicing open your arm, coloring it in guilt and self-hatred, yet not a single tear dropped.

"Maybe I should kill myself, just like mom did?"

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗

A beat passes. It was like an epiphany.

Why suffering when you could just end it and just go back to her?

Inhale,

Exhale.

You could feel the cold air filling your lungs as you took a look around Tokyo, feet on the floor of your building's roof.

it wasn't secured that much, probably wasn't made to be complicated.

You knew that what you were about to do is irreversible. Once you jump off, you cannot reverse time to fly back up.

Your heart still felt as heavy as it did all day, all theses days since her absence. Yet, the idea of committing it was almost a relief.

You knew she wouldn't want you to do that.

She was probably screaming at you to go back inside from wherever she was because anytime you would walk closer to the edge the wind would just push you back harder and harder.

Maybe it was a sign?

As soon as you put your hands on the raised edge, your right feet flying off the floor to it, it was almost like you were going to pass out.

It was like that day all over again.

Like when you came home late after a date with a guy you liked.

Like when you walked up to the living room's table and found a letter there.

"From mom"

The only words there were "I love you" and "I'm sorry".

Like when you felt your entire being losing control over anything.

Like when you ran around the apartment, nothing.

Like when you screamed her name as loudly as you could, tears in your eyes.

Like when you sprinted out of your place, looking around, the wind as merciless as a tyrant leading troupes to war.

Like when you found her body, crashed on the floor, bloody, gruesome.

Like when heart stopped for few seconds.

Like when you thought it couldn't been her, even though it was, it couldn't be.

You breathed in, then breathed out.

You could not get closer, your legs just wouldn't let you.

You threw up, stumbled slightly before falling on your knees, then blacked out.

It was like that day all over again.

You could see your fingers trembling while gripping the edge.

"At least finish something once in your life" you thought to yourself.

The sounds of the city fell silent, distant.

You were about to push up your left foot, you were about to ket yourself fall.

"Don't do that."

You stopped.

It wasn't your voice, it wasn't your brain saying it.

you slowly turned your face to let your eyes meet the man standing just few feet away from you.

He was tall. He had long black hair. He was smoking.

That was the only things your brain would let you notice in that moment of distress.

You frowned.

Was he there the whole time? Like was he watching you frozen for five minutes with a foot on the edge looking ahead as if you were ready to fly straight up to the sky?

Well, that's embarrassing.

Your right feet slowly met back down with the floor, your shoulders hissed up.

That's when he finally moved.

He simply turned his head to almost face yours, his eyes sinking you in like the deepest yet calmest ocean.

You immediately looked away, gluing your stare back to skyscrapers.

You haven't spoke to anyone for a whole year, and the day you wanted to kill yourself some random guy tells you not to do it?

You bit your lip, hard, maybe it bled a little.

A long sigh rolled out of your mouth before you push yourself off the edge, not willing to look back at that guy.

Was he even living here? You never saw him once in the building.

You couldn't express how pissed off you were.

Two minutes ago you were almost bawling your eyes out, ready to end your sufferings and jump off. Now you were walking down the stairs towards your building still alive.

The walk of shame.

That night, you laid on your bed, looking up at the ceiling.

You should've been dead by now if he wouldn't been there.

Maybe he was possessed by your mom's spirit, who knows?

Of course you didn't slept, how could you?

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗

Four days passed, four days of depression like all the ones you lived for a year.

Four days of silence, three nights of work at the convenience store, like usual.

You put a bandage around your forearm. Boiled some instant noodles you bought a week ago. Went back to your bed. Scrolled endlessly on Instagram and Twitter a little bit.

You still had the suicidal thoughts, of course, you were used to it by now. But you couldn't stop thinking about four days ago. If you did an attempt again, would it feel so right as it felt that day?

Probably not.

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗

Once the sun disappeared, you went out.

Nothing revolutionary, you just had to take your trash out and head to work.

You wait for the elevator, enter when it opens and click the ground floor button. It was closing when a hand emerged from nowhere and stopped it.

When it opened back you saw him, that same guy from the roof, standing in front of you. His hair were in a bun with a lock of hair slightly falling on his face.

Even though his hair were styled differently, he was easily recognizable.

He blinks once, then twice before giving you a small, polite smile.

Once again you look away, down this time.

He enters the elevator, stands next to you, and this time it closes fully.

You thought you would never see him again, or at least not that early. Does he really live here, at your floor on top of that?

Your eyes did not left your hands which were holding your trash bag.

It really was deadly embarrassing. You want to hide your face as much as you possibly can. What must he tells himself about you?

"She's the girl who wanted to jump off the building last time... She didn't do it though. Probably too scared".

Just thinking about it made you wanting to truly kill yourself.

Another anxious and totally nonsense thought was about to form in your brain as he talked, stopping it.

"I'm Geto. Geto Suguru. I moved about here seven months ago now, but I haven't seen you anywhere before. I even thought your apartment was empty," he says, a small chuckle slipping out.

So now he can read minds?

It made more sense why you haven't seen him before. You simply never go outside, or too late to actually meet any of your neighbors, let alone new ones.

Not that it bothered you.

Were you supposed to respond?

Respond what?

"Hi, my name's [𝜗𝜚], I'm too depressed to do anything and I only work night shifts in a whole other neighborhood. That's why you never saw or heard of me before!"

Well. Definitely not that.

Your hands caught the trash bag so tight your nails pierced through the skin of your palms, an anxious habit that goes along the overthinking.

It was the longest elevator ride of your life.

You can see him, even though it was blurry, from your peripheral view. He wasn't too close, he wasn't looking at you, he didn't even seem to wait for you to say anything back.

Was it so obvious that you would rather walk on lava with no shoes than talking to someone?

Maybe just your name?

Hell, your lips couldn't even form the first letter of it.

The elevator finally reach its destination and the doors open again.

"Until next time" he almost whispers, stepping out first without looking back.

You stay planted there for maybe two or three seconds before you snap out it when the elevator doors start to close back.

You weren't even able to articulate your name when someone was introducing themselves to you.

"What a failure am I..." you would think to yourself.

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗

You always loved the tranquility of night shifts.

You were sat on your chair for an hour or two now, legs crossed, eating some cheese flavored snack while watching the new episode of a thai lesbian romance drama that dropped this morning.

That alone made life worth living, just the time of the episode.

There was still few costumers every forty minutes or around these times, but it was okay.

It's only your job, you're not really talking to them anyway.

You used to really like the walk back home at around six in the morning. It felt refreshing, calming.

You still like it, but now that you know you will not bump into your mom getting ready for work as you come back home anymore it felt heavy, almost annoying.

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗

A week later, Saturday.

It was your night off. Your apartment was starting to feel overwhelming and dirty. It probably has been few days since you last showered and you bed rotted all day long.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

You felt gross, it happened sometimes. You got up and started to clean your room.

Might as well do the living room.

And the kitchen.

And the bathroom.

You did it all.

It wasn't even that long.

Now, maybe taking a shower wouldn't kill you?

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗

You just got out of the bath tub, grabbing your towel and wrap it around yourself quickly, not liking the feeling of air hitting your bare body.

That's when you heard it.

Squeals. Quiet ones.

You felt your heart jumping out of your chest right away.

Your breath hitch as you slowly look down on the floor.

A huge rat curled up behind the opened door of the bathroom, lightly scratching the wall.

You thought you were about to pass out right there. A rat? In your house? You didn't clean but not THAT much, that's for sure.

You love animals, but you sure do have your limits, rats were one of them.

You screamed so loudly you hurt your own ears, running out of the bathroom almost tripping as your feet were still wet.

Chills all over your body appear, you wanted to snatch your skin off, clean it and put it back on. What should you even do?

Hit it with a broom as hard as you could?

Hell no. Never.

You didn't even had the time to search for another solution as you hear it again. Your eyes are fixed on the floor near your bathroom door.

That's when you see it again, running a bit before stopping itself, sniffing.

The screams of terror you let out almost made you black out, quickly stepping up on a chair. You felt tears of fear and disgust all at once blurring your vision, gripping the chair tighter as you see it approaching.

What if it jumps on you? What if it scratches you and then you catch rabies?

You could not do it.

You're cut off in your fright opera as you hear someone knocking at your door.

"Hello? Are you alright?"

It was Geto.

In fact, in this exact moment you did not care who it was.

You jumped off the chair, lightly twisted your ankle at your disastrous landing but a still, you couldn't care.

You quickly open the door to see him, his eyes widening as he looks down at you, expressing yourself to him for the first time.

"There's a fuckass rat in here, and like it's huge, it looks like a whole cat, help me for the love of God!"

You could barely form clear sentences between sobs, your throat hurting from how much you screamed.

You step aside, immediately pointing at the source of your deplorable state.

You couldn't look at it for too long. If so you would probably throw up.

You hear Geto giggling quietly as he steps in.

Why the heck would he laugh? Was the rat spilling the best one man show of the century without you knowing?

He slowly walked up to where the rat was and grabs it as if it was a small puppy, cupping it with his both hands.

That was absolutely disgusting. You really hoped he would not dare touching once in his life just for that.

You were breathing quickly but quietly, in total disbelief.

That easy? Seriously?

He turns back to you, giving you that same smile he gave you when you met him in the elevator.

"It's Mr. Matsubara's rat. He's been searching for it since this morning" his voice was truly soothing. It definitely calmed you down, at least for a little bit.

You blinked once, stunned.

"A rat? As a pet?" you frowned, one of your hand leaving the door to wrap around your throat, massaging it. You didn't know if you were more scared, confused, disgusted or annoyed in that moment.

"Yeah, well... It looks cute when you really look at it" he trails off, looking down at the animal he had in his hands before looking back up at you.

"It can look cute outside my house, that's for sure" you respond, opening your door wider so he does not have to walk past close to you as he gets out. "Thank you for helping me out but please get this out of here" you begged.

He slowly walks up to you, still smiling, Didn't his cheek hurt from smiling that much?

"You welcome" he lowers his voice like he wanted to whisper it to you or mock you, you couldn't really tell. He steps out heading towards the elevator, surely on his way to hand it back to Mr. Matsubara.

You close your door behind him and bang your forehead on it, slightly too hard.

His scent lingering juste there. It was a very sweet one.

You wanted to die out of second hand embarrassment. It was probably the first time you screamed so loud.

Not to forget you left a man entering your place with nothing but a tower rolled around you hiding from beneath your collarbone to the middle of your upper tights.

It was tragic, seriously.

On top of all that, he still didn't knew your name.

Maybe you should tell him.

Maybe you should also offer him something for helping you out?

You could make him a trinket?

You must suck at making it now, it's been a long time since you've last done any.

Since your mom.

You sigh, looking around your apartment.

"Why do I have to be so dumb all the time?" you think to yourself again, hiding your face with both of your hands.

──────────────────────