I didn't open my eyes. Didn't need to. I knew exactly who it was from the cadence alone, the slight rasp at the end of each word, that particular brand of exhausted amusement coloring every syllable.
Abdul Johnson. Room 607, Enies Plaza. Six feet even, built like someone who wrestled in high school and never quite let go of the athletic aesthetic even though he hadn't touched a mat in months. Dark skin, darker sense of humor, and the kind of easygoing charm that made people forget he was almost as broke as the rest of us in Class E.
Almost.
"I don't have a girlfriend," I said.
"Right. My bad." Abdul's footsteps crossed my room. The desk chair creaked as he spun it around and sat down backwards, arms folded over the backrest. "One of your many acquaintances who happens to be female and is definitely not romantically interested in you despite texting you fifteen times in the last hour wants to meet with you."
I moved my arm just enough to crack one eye open.
"Fifteen?"
"I rounded down."
"How considerate."
"I'm a considerate guy." He tilted his head. "So are you gonna go, or are you gonna keep lying there contemplating the existential dread of modern society?"
I let my arm fall back over my eyes. "The second one."
"Cool, cool. I'll just tell Belle you're busy brooding."
Belle Fox. Class 1-E. Room 703, Enies Plaza. The fact that she lived on the floor directly above me felt like some kind of cosmic joke. She was loud where I was quiet, energetic where I was lethargic. Had a smile that could probably be weaponized if she ever figured out how much power it gave her.
She was also not my girlfriend.
She was, however, extremely difficult to ignore. I suspected that was the entire point of her existence.
"Tell her I died," I said.
"She'll just come resurrect you."
"Tell her I'm contagious."
"She'll bring soup."
"Tell her I've taken a vow of silence."
"She'll interpret that as a challenge." Abdul stood up. The chair squeaked in protest. "Look, man. I'm just the messenger. You want me to tell her you're being an antisocial shut-in, I will absolutely do that. But she's gonna come knock on your door herself, and then I'm gonna have to hear it from across the hall. I've got a raid starting in twenty minutes that I cannot miss."
I sighed.
The problem with Abdul was that he was right approximately sixty percent of the time. Just often enough to be annoying. Belle would come knock. She would not take no for an answer. She would probably bring food or some other transparent bribe, and then I'd have to actually deal with her in person instead of through the comfortable buffer of text messages I could ignore at my leisure.
This was the problem with allowing people into your life. They started expecting things. Attention. Time. Emotional availability.
Exhausting, all of it.
I sat up. My hair fell into my eyes. I pushed it back with one hand and reached for my phone on the nightstand.
Twenty-three messages.
Most of them were variations on the same theme.
Where are you.
Are you alive.
Why are you ignoring me.
I'm coming to your room.
I'm serious this time.
Xavi I swear to god.
The last one was just a single emoji. A knife.
"She's threatening me with cutlery," I said.
"That's how you know it's love."
I gave Abdul a look that could have curdled milk. He raised his hands in surrender.
"Fine. Friendship. Intense platonic friendship with vaguely threatening undertones."
I stood up. My reflection caught in the mirror on the back of my closet door. Same as always. Six-one. Lean. Snow white hair that looked like I'd run my hands through it too many times, which I had. Mismatched eyes that made people do a double-take the first time they met me. Storm-grey on the right. Emerald-green on the left.
I'd stopped caring about the stares years ago.
"Where does she want to meet?" I asked.
"Café Leblanc. She said, and I quote, 'Tell him if he doesn't show up in thirty minutes I'm ordering the most expensive thing on the menu and making him pay for it.'"
I checked the time on my phone. 3:47 PM.
Thirty minutes would put me there at 4:17. She was already there. She'd probably already ordered something. This was less of a threat and more of a statement of intent.
I grabbed my hoodie off the back of my desk chair.
"You're actually going," Abdul said. He sounded surprised.
"I'm going to find out what she wants so she stops blowing up my phone."
"Right. That's definitely the only reason."
I shot him another look. He grinned wider.
"Get out of my room, Abdul."
"Going, going." He headed for the door, then paused with his hand on the frame. "For what it's worth, she's good people. Little intense, maybe. But good people."
"Your endorsement has been noted and filed appropriately."
"In the trash?"
"In the trash."
He laughed and disappeared into the hallway. I heard his door close a moment later.
I stood there for a moment longer, phone in one hand, hoodie in the other.
I had only known this girl for two months. Two months ago, I didn't have death threats in my inbox. I was just a guy on a hot ass bus.