The window slides down to reveal... Oh- Oh fuck no no no shit- "Can I help you?" That's not him. That's not him- "Oh... Ah, my bad. I'm sorry." I start to quickly shuffle away from the car. "Now that's a wild one," I hear him mutter against his breath. "Sir, are you under the influence of drugs?" "Wha-" Why did I do this, why did I think this would work? "No. No officer, I just I- I thought yo- I'm, I'm just not having a good day. I'm sorry. I'll go now." I hear the car door click open. "Hey, can you stay there? I need to check for a few things." Great. Fucking great. I walk back to the car and get face to face with the adversary standing in front of me. It's a pale orange dino of average stature, possibly in his mid to late twenties. Before I can ask about what he is going to do to me, the pterodactyl starts going off as if he's reading off a script. "Hi, I'm Officer Caleb, Valadejo Police Department. We're in charge of an ongoing drug abuse outreach and rehabilitation program in South Valadejo for disenfranchis..." Oh, okay. It's just some useless bullshit. Should let me off eventually. Knowing that the situation is far less tense than I made it out to be, my eyes drift off to look elsewhere for a moment, and in an instant, they lock on to the other pterodactyl sitting beside the driver's seat... Turns out I was right, just off by one window. It's him, sneering right at me. The immediate hostility from him replenished all the tension in my mind that had previously been lost. I could feel all the figurative and literal colors draining rapidly from my face. "...free medical benefits and part-time work also- hey, you listening?" "Yeah- yes officer." "You sure?" "Yes," I say with more emphasis. The cop squints his eyes for a second and looks me up and down. "Hey boss, Should we do the swab test on him?" He calls out to the man in the car. The seated, burly pterodactyl clicks his tongue. Very audibly too. "I'll handle this one. You can go to the main street to pick up people." "But boss, we're almost done with the quota for the da-" "Do as I say, Caleb." There's visible discomfort on the Officer, Caleb's face, who subsequently grabs a clipboard and a cap from the back seat. Soon enough, he's out of sight... ...Only now does the full realization of how bad of an idea this confrontation was settles into me. Does he know that she lives here? With me? He does, doesn't he? I can't even start to imagine what would happen if Fang got to know about this. The entire modicum of stability that we had built up washed away by- "Hey moron, get in." Ah fuck. ... By now he had shifted into the driver's seat, leaving me to ride shotgun. I do as he says. He presses a few buttons situated on the car dashboard, causing a few blinking LEDs to turn off in the interior. ... He hasn't said anything yet. I take the opportunity to finally steal more than a few glances in his general direction. He looks about the same as I remember him looking back in high school. He does look slightly older, but I can't pinpoint an exact reason as to why. Looking at him makes me wonder how her mother and Naser are holding on. By now, I had some idea of what got her kicked out of the house, but I'm still not aware of what exactly went down. I could probably ask him that. That's one of the reasons why I approached him anyway. He takes out a clipboard with a booklet from the back of the car, flips the booklet to the newest page, and hands it to me. "You're... Fang's ex-boyfriend from high school, aren't you?" "...Yes." ...'Fang'? "Fill this up. Sign here." He hands me a pen. I look down at the form and go through it. It's a questionnaire on what drugs and other stuff I've taken over the last 3 years... Do they really expect me to put anything other than "None" as an answer? I start filling up the sheet. Just as I was about to lose myself in a daze, thinking about whether to bail somehow right now or press on asking for questions, he interrupts me. "You're living with her, aren't you? How is she... How are they doing?" She's, well... "They," huh? The fumbling makes me realize just how long it's been since I've properly talked to anyone else about... Lucy. Hell, I just relapse to calling... them a 'she' in my mind every time I commit not to do it. Maybe I've even accidentally dropped it a few times in front of- "She's going by Lucy again?" ... My mouth. As reliable as ever. "...I... It's... sh-... They told me they were this morning. I don't know if it's 'she' or 'they' now. I'm not sure if they... I don't think they are doing well." "Why is that?" The question sounded more dismissive than it did accusatory. ... "Well, I... A lot happened. She told me she dropped out of college, and then Lucy's band broke up a month ago. There are lots of reasons but... that's the gist of it. She's been... She's been doing better lately, but... I think she'll need the time to... get- get herself together." It didn't take me much deliberation to decide whether to discuss yesterday's events or hide it, but shit, with how badly I fumbled my words I probably gave it away anyway. ... ...To my relief, he doesn't offer much of a response aside from twitching his facial muscles and continuing to look straight ahead. I complete the rest of the sheet and hold the clipboard up to him. "Hey." He takes it from me and goes through it. "..." "Full middle name." He hands it back to me. I scribble off the abbreviation, write the name above it, and hand it back. "Anon Yoan Mous." "...Yeah." Better pop the question now than later. "I- I wanted to ask you about-" "And she's back with this fucking deadbeat skinnie of all people." He throws himself back into the seat, letting out a sigh. His eyes accentuated his obvious disappointment as he clenched his teeth. Fearing that an interjection now is a bad idea, I keep my mouth shut, letting an uncomfortable silence settle in. Well, it's not like he liked me earlier either, but he does have more reason to hate me now than he does- "I'm sure she's told you about everything. Listen, if anything happens to her," he looks at me straight in the eyes, "I'll have you go missing overnight. You won't talk about our little friendly chat or about me being here. Got it? Now get out of the car." He rests his head on the steering wheel. ... That's it. "I told you to fucking be-" "Why are you stalking her?" His previously dismissive expression quickly turns into an alert one. "Look, you've... been doing this for how long now? A few months?" And then to one of anger. Sharp teeth and all in full display. "Great, so you know about this." He lets out a sigh. "When did you figure it out?" "You- You've been around her for a few months, I think. I've seen your car near the restaurant she worked at and her apartment, but I wasn't sure if it was you." "Oh really? Why didn't you come up earlier then?" "Never had the... guts to see it for myself." "Uh-huh." He rhythmically taps his fingers on the steering wheel and sighs. "Well, What made you ask me now?" I... Well... I... ... Raptor Jesus. Fuck. I was just about to tell him about that. What should I even say? ... Well, I guess I... "What? Can't get anything out of that little skinnie brain of yours?" Guy still can't take a fucking break after all of these years. I sigh. "Please answer my question. Why are you stalking her or, whatever it is that you're doing?" He furrows his brows more. "I don't think you need to know anything else." "Your daughter lives with me. Your daughter was on the brink of turning into a homeless junkie and has been... been having mental breakdowns on the regular. I think I deserve to know why she ended up in Skin Row with her deadbeat dad spying at her from a distance." Of course, moments later, I find myself face-to-face with him with his sharp claws tugging on my jacket. "I can rip your throat out right now and no one will fucking know." So what if I'm playing with fire? I don't care. He deserves it. "...And what? Will killing me fix everything?" THUNK AGH- Fuck, Fuck. Ugh. ... That... That hurt. Fuck. My ears are still ringing. "Get out before it's too late. You won't get a second chance." Ah. There it is again. Haven't felt that one since I got off the boat. I try to muster out words in between attempts to steady myself. The void left by the rapidly losing rationality of my mind starts being replaced with a sea of red. The rapidly rising urge to rip that fucker's face off is only stopped by my temporary incapacity. The subsequent arrest or even the certainty of death by his arms seems like a small price to pay for the pain that I could deal to him. I want to fucking kill him. ... ... And I... Of course. There's no point. ... Swallowing the accumulated mixture of phlegm and blood in my mouth, I attempt to speak. "I... know... you don't care about what I have to say, but Lucy's your daughter. I don't... I don't know why she's been like that. I don't even know why you're doing this. I'd... I'd really appreciate it if you filled me in... because she isn't, and I don't think she will for a long time, and... I feel like I'm out of options. Maybe she'll get better with time. I don't know. But... Please. Do it for her sake. I... I just hate seeing her like that." The old pterodactyl offers no reaction, instead giving me a momentary scowl before looking straight ahead, putting his fingers on the switches, and pulling the window up. Looks like he's gonna do me in. A momentary flash of dread phases me before being awash by a sense of numbing adrenaline as if my mind had already resigned to accepting whatever fate had in store. My limbs stiffen themselves to deal with whatever that was coming next. I could make a run for it, right now, and get out of here unscathed... He pushes on a switch, leading to the multiple, simultaneous clicking sounds of the locks on the doors. Before I can make a decision, he turns his head to me and I put myself on guard. One of my hands instinctively tries to reach for the lock while the other attempts to shield me. "Stay quiet." He whispers. What? Tapping sounds come from the heavily tinted window on the other side of the car, followed by muffled words. "Hey, boss! I'm done with the stuff. Can we leave now?" Fang's dad unlocks the door on his side, steps out, and locks the door again, leaving me alone in the car. ... I can't make out much of the conversation that they're having, but the other guy isn't looking too good. Minutes pass by and they're still arguing over something with the officer looking increasingly more desperate. "But boss..." He snatches the clipboard from him. "I'll handle this for you. Just get it done. Right now." The officer keeps looking at him for mere seconds before finally admitting defeat. Fang's dad lands a few firm pats on his shoulder before he starts walking away, dejectedly. "Alright then, get moving." ... The old man keeps standing there for a while, possibly waiting for him to get out of sight, before reaching for the car door again. He puts himself back onto his seat and lets out a heavy sigh. Some sense of relief also comes to me considering that we had just dodged a bullet, but in the end, I was left with a mixture of anger, fear, and tiredness. He opens his mouth presumably to say something, but stops. He alternates between between the me, the windows, and the windshield before letting out another sigh. "...Get out." He says with less vigor this time. I repeat my wish, too with less vigor. "I just want an answer. Please." His hands press down on his forehead, and then on the bridge of his nose. He sighs once more. Another long silence settles in between us. Whether it was because of his sheer dejectedness over how things have turned out today or contemplation over life choices, I'm not sure. As I was about to try to say something, he interjects. "I kicked her out." ... Oh. ... I attempt to look in his general direction, but both of us still mutually avoid eye contact. "Why?" He rests his back in the seat and crosses his arms. "Couldn't tolerate a freeloader in my house taking things too far. That's why." "Did she do something?" "She did a lot of things. Being ungrateful about everything we gave her is one of them." "But-" "I still remember the night you two broke off things with each other. Lucy came walking home half an hour past midnight from Raptor Jesus knows where with makeup smeared all over her face. We were trying to reach her phone again and again but she just wasn't picking it up." God. I... of course she was crying. The familiar feeling of the pit in my stomach intensifies. "Naser ran up to ask what was wrong, but she immediately shut him down and went to her room. Her mother and I tried to talk to her too, but she just wouldn't respond through the door. The next morning, she comes down for breakfast acting like absolutely nothing had happened. She just brushed off everything we asked, until we brought you up. She told us to 'never mention that fucker's name again.'" I... ... "After that, she started to change. She was just a little bit more angry about everything. A little bit more annoyed. A little bit more quiet. I don't know how else to put it, but it was worse than before. About a week later, I heard Naser and his girlfriend breaking up, and then Naser stopped trying to talk to Lucy completely. I have a hunch that she might have had something to do with the breakup." "And guess what? She failed, and I made sure she fucking knew it." Oh. Ah fuck. "...If only I wasn't such a stupid ass about it back then..." "It wouldn't have mattered." "..." "No matter how much of a loser you are, she did this to herself." "...She- I should have come back and-" "Yeah, and I would've caved a hole into your skull if you showed yourself around us again after what you did." "I could've been a better person. I could have apologized." He sighs. "Maybe you did apologize back then. What after that? How long would you have put up with it? Would you have fixed whatever that's wrong with her? Don't think you can do that today either, going off by what you're saying." I... At least we could have left on better terms... Right? "Maybe there was a time and place for it..." He glances at the clipboard and then to me, "...Anon, but life has to go on. She's got problems, all of us know that, but there's only so much we can do for her before we have to make the tough choices. We can give her all the help she wants, but our patience isn't infinite. She has to take responsibility for her actions. You? You were just a blimp on our radars that disappeared without a trace." ... He's right. We'd known each other only for a few months before we broke up. Even during the time leading up to it I barely knew anything about her, except for maybe her taste in music. "What did she like eating besides pizza and Dino nuggets?" "How long have Reed and Trish known Fang?" "Had she been in a relationship before?" "Where did she like hanging out besides Little Troodon?" "Why did she hate Naser so much?"... And all the other questions I never bothered asking. Maybe I was right in not bringing up some of those... but asking them now is only going to get tougher with each passing day. Even to this day, I still barely know her as a person. Back then, I suppose I was just happy to have a girlfriend for the first time. Just the idea of having someone love me was more than enough to not care for anything else. Now, It's... I'm with her because of... Atonement? I don't know what I'm doing. ... ...Is he staring at me? Only now do I realize that there has been an unnatural pause in his speech... ... I said all of that out loud. Yep. Why wouldn't I? ... ...For a second, he furrows his brow. Then he looks away and continues. "Time went by and Naser goes off to med school, and she got into college for a music degree. Fat chance of her doing anything other than fast food when she gets out, I thought, but she'd always had a good ear just like her Grandma. Maybe she would've made it somewhere. In her first year there it looked like she was doing alright. She'd calmed down quite a bit and it felt like things were finally piping down, but then that trigger she went to college with dropped out." "...Trish?" "Yeah, that kid she used to play with. There was another one..." "Reed." "Right. He got written up by us a few times for selling dope. Spent a few months in jail and never saw him after that. Maybe he moved his business out of town." Guess I'll never see him again either. "Well, we got to know about it when the Dean phoned to tell us she's suspended for a week for getting into a 'physical altercation' with a fellow student on college campus grounds. She didn't tell us much about it either when we asked, except that she's a 'backstabbing bitch'." "..." "It only got worse after that. Sometimes she would disappear for days doing God knows what, and she only got more aggressive with us when we asked about it. Occasionally I would wake up to see her having a new tattoo on her shoulder or her arm or have her hair dyed in rainbow colors. All of it came with the same ungrateful attitude she showed us every single day, and none of it seemed to make her a single bit happier. By that point, I'd just about given up on her doing anything in life. The only reason I hadn't kicked her out yet was because of her mother. We decided to suggest her to see a therapist. I don't trust any of that stuff myself, but we didn't have many options left. All it did was make her yell at us more and double down. A few more months go by, and I come home one day to see Samantha doing something I hadn't seen her do in more than a decade: get angry. The shouting matches between them were already getting louder by the day. She only barely scolded our kids when they were growing up. Well, the stars didn't align for us that night and magically make our daughter better. What it did achieve, however, was have a toaster hurled at her." ... His fists curl up into a ball. "... She hit her mother. That was the last straw." His attempt at a dry tone was laced with the utmost bitterness. "Maybe we haven't been good parents, Samantha and I, but I can tell you that we meant well. We haven't seen Naser in years. He doesn't come back for breaks from Med School. We don't talk to him except for the occasional phone call. I've never seen her mother smile since that day. And here I am, a coward who can't face his daughter, trying to put his family back together again, and all I can do is wonder why everything went so wrong while my daughter destroys herself." ... I imagined it would've been something like this, but hearing the whole story directly from his mouth just... The fact that everyone ended up miserable despite... "Not all of it was your fault. I have a feeling that things might've ended up like this anyhow." "I just... I just feel awful about everything that's happened up till now." He sighs. "So, why are you sticking around?" "What?" "Why are you staying with her? Is it that 'atonement' thing you were talking about?" "I... uh..." I wince at my words. Hearing them out loud makes me realize how moronic it sounds. I don't know how else to word my actions. I care for her, that much I can say without hesitation, but it's been long over between us. Whatever that was there, started and ended during high school. I haven't ever let myself think otherwise. ...I suppose it's just a want to make things right. "...Well, you owe her an apology, but I suppose you've already got that covered by now. Can't say much about it besides that. I haven't known my own daughter for years." "Atonement is a... part of it. I guess I just... want things to change for us, more than anything. That's the reason." "Change how?" "Well... out of Skin Row, for starters." He lets out a faint snort, and then a heavy sigh. "..." I look up to the now-dark sky. Amongst the thick smog and barely working street lamps, it showed no signs of life except for a crescent moon. "What's your name again?" I turn my head to him. "...Anon." "Ripley." I nod. "...Take my number. Call me if it's important." I punch in the number into my phone as he dictates it, and I save it. "...I'm sorry, Anon. I've failed my family and I've... failed my daughter. The first time I saw you with her after all those years, I just wanted to get rid of you as soon as I could. But seeing you help her out and be with her this past month... It made me realize you do are really planning on staying with her for good. I know I shouldn't be trusting you like this. It's completely ridiculous to for me to even consider it, but... I'm asking you to do me a favour. Please don't give up on her. Don't end up a coward like me. If she asks, please tell her that we still love our daughter despite everything that's happened, and we will help her out in any way we can." "... I won't give up. Thanks." ... "And, uh, sorry for hitting you." ... There goes the car. ...I wonder if he'll come back after this. ... I look at my watch... It's about quarter-past nine... How long had we been talking? I start making my way back to the apartment. That conversation relieved an insurmountable weight from my mind. It makes me feel like there is a shining beacon of hope in front of me. Fang might be able to reconnect with her family and get the help she needs. Maybe things will finally take a turn for the better. Reinvigorated with confidence, I start thinking of ways to bring this up with Fang. Revealing it immediately may be a bad idea-... ...I start hearing faint sounds as I ascend the stairwell. ... Is that the ceiling fan? I should've thrown it out by now. Did she do it? But-... ...The door's open. My ears finally pick up the faint sobbing and dry heaves coming from my apartment room. ... Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. I rush inside. ... ... ...Oh God, she's preening again. ... Fang turns to me. In a split second, her dreary, bloodshot eyes turn wide open. "No... No... NO!!!" ARGH In a split second, I find myself tightly, desperately constricted by her arms. Her claws attempt to dig into my back, yet they seem powerless to do so. "No. Don't kill yourself. Please don't kill yourself. Please don't kill yourself. Please don't kill yourself..." "Fan- Fang. What happened?" "Where were you? You tried to kill yourself again, didn't you? DIDN'T YOU?" "What? No! I didn't-" "DON'T LIE TO ME!" ...Fang's sobs turn into violent cries. "No, Fang, It's alright. I just got held up by something at work today." A shaky arm reaches for my head and starts frantically caressing me, trying to wipe off something. "Why is there blood on your face?" "I..." No. I can't mention him... "I..." "You did it again, didn't you? You did it... I know you-... you tried to... do it earlier too. It's all because of me... All because of my stupid fucking..." "No, Fang. Please. I-... Look-" ...Fang's arms constrict me harder. Her head fiercely presses against my shoulder and head. "....Please don't leave me...Please...You're the only one I have. I won't preen again. I won't be difficult to you. I won't ever do this again. You can call me Fang... Lucy... whatever you want. Please... Just please don't leave me... ...I love you. Don't leave me. Please..." "It's alright Fang, I won't-" "...I love you. Please don't leave me... Please... Please..." ... It all comes crashing down. The brilliant woman I once knew and loved is prostrating herself to me, completely devastated by life. Utterly broken. And it was me, the genius, who thought it was a great, excellent idea to leave her alone after her having a mental breakdown in the morning. She's clinging for dear life, and to whom? The guy who betrayed her trust in him to fix things, abandoning her in the time She needed him the most. Why did... She's... ...God. What have I done? I haven't been a good friend. Why did I even think... I... ... I couldn't help but have the question cross my mind: "...I love you." She loves me? Does she believe her own words? ... ...God dammit. ... ... It's been a few months. We're still living in the apartment. She's still working retail, and I'm working on my IT certifications. I'm looking forward to quitting my retail job as soon as I start getting calls from wherever I applied for an interview. With a bit of financial assistance from her dad, she's started going to therapy. It seems to be helping her. Her panic attacks have mostly subsided in the past few weeks. She's doing better than ever. Yet, I fail to see any light in her eyes. No matter how much I try to deny it or try to look past it, deep down I simply can't help but think how she is completely unrecognizable from the person that I used to know. A shell of her former self. Maybe someday, it will get better. Maybe someday, she will find happiness and start living for herself. I can only hope. Suggestions of meeting up and reconnecting her with her family have mostly been met by apprehension from her. I know that it's still a sore topic, but I hope she will accept it someday. I'll support her as long as she wants me to. She's alive today, and that's more than enough for now. Even if she's someone I still barely know, I'll at least die knowing that I've been worth something to someone. As for me, well... I know what it feels like to make myself the only person in the world. The one I chose to put myself in by disregarding everything else. As long as you don't care, it doesn't matter. To be truly unneeded by everyone else, to be of no one else's concern, to have all of your actions and words be of no consequence or influence, or to be doomed to rot in a dingy apartment till the day you die, all of those thoughts wash away like water off an umbrella, because after all, why should you give a shit about any of that. You become numb to life, and the days start to blend in with each other. Then one day, suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere. the realization of it all hits you at once. The countless hours that I poured into rationalizing and convincing myself that it was all okay to stay like this came undone in the course of just a few days. A roof, food, smokes, and a computer with an internet connection are all I've ever needed, and I already know that I'll probably welcome the sweet release of death before I turn thirty. And before you know it, I was tying rope around my neck, just like I'd imagined. And yet... ... There are a million things that I wish I could have done differently, and no matter how much I want to, I can't go back in time to fix them. Hell, I don't think I'd be able to fix anything even if I could. ... 'Maybe I can become a better person now. For both of us.' I've said those words to myself countless times before. ...Maybe this time will be different. I can change, right? [NOTES] Oh, did I say this one would take a week? I meant a few months. Well, that's it. That's the story. This has been the first written work I've done that wasn't a school or college assignment. It came out... passable, I guess? I haven't had the life experiences or enough cultural knowledge that would allow me to do an accurate portrayal of these characters, so this was mostly me putting myself in their shoes and extrapolating my existing life and cultural know-how to write the story. There were more than a few ways to continue this story for a couple of more chapters, but there's no way I have enough motivation to get another chapter out. If there are plot inconsistencies or any similarities in plot with other E2 stuff, I apologize in advance. I haven't kept up with the fics pouring in for quite a while now. I feel like I botched the big police car reveal. I don't think I was able to find the right balance for the subtlety. The hints in the previous chapters of the story may either be inadequate or too vague to actually mean something, or you'd know what's going on right away. The total word count of this entire thing feels pretty low when compared to a lot of the other fics here. I don't know what to say about it. After I'm done writing some portion of the story and read it back, it feels like I've conveyed everything that was there to convey for the portion and there's nothing else to add or elaborate on, but the finished work ends up feeling unsatisfyingly terse anyway. It ends up feeling like a string of ideas held together with words as glue rather than something that meshes all its elements together naturally. Maybe I'm just too quick to post the chapters out (big words coming from me, I know), maybe I'm not re-reading or sitting on it enough, or maybe it's the inexperience and years-long lack of exposure to any sort of properly written literature. Who knows, there are many factors are playing into this. I hope this situation has improved slightly with these last two chapters. Reading back on the previous chapters... well almost all of them now feel pretty awkward to go through, especially with the poorly executed and half-baked ideas that sounded good in my mind, weird pacing because I'm writing only in short, spaced-out bursts that make me lose track of the story's 'current time,' as well as the glaring grammar mistakes and otherwise. I'd like to redo all of them or even redo the story entirely, but I don't have the motivation or the skills to go about doing that. Using an actual word processor instead of Notepad would've been a big fucking help for starters. Grammarly too. One or two rounds of proofreading never seem enough for me, and I'm less than motivated to do more than that for this sort of pseudonymous "throw-away" work (and stretched out over NINE fucking months holy shit) when I have other stuff to do besides it. Do I feel accomplished at the end of the day? Eh. The whole process consisted of little amounts of intermittent work stretched over a long period of time, and after it's all said and done all I'm left with is a subpar piece of work. But hey, at least it's finished. That's a good thing, right? Right? It's better than writing nothing at all, I guess, but I still can't help but feel that I've wasted my time on nothing sometimes. But at least one good thing came out of all of this: I've started reading books! Right now, I'm reading Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky, and so far it's been a pretty interesting read. In a few years (or months) maybe I'll start banging my head against the wall for "letting my autism get the better of me" and make me ever consider writing fanfiction, much less for a fringe le ebil 4chinz furry scaly dinosaur dating simulator. Nonetheless, actually sitting down and going through the process of writing a story from start to finish has most definitely been a good experience for me and I've learned many things from it, and if snoot has been the one powerful enough motivator to make me do that, then so be it. Anyways, Thank you for reading. I'm glad to have gotten it over with, and I'm extremely thankful to all the people who decided to give this story a try or left kudos and comments on it, which is well over 1600 now. That's quite a lot for this mess, distinct views or otherwise. Don't think I've ever had more than 10-20 people ever look at my stuff. I hope I'll be able to write better stories someday and be able to put a more dedicated, passionate effort into them. PS. Forgot that it's Yousnoot and not Youtube in-universe. How embarrassing. Didn't catch that Anon first gets out of the apartment (post the 4-year skip) in the evening, not the afternoon. Didn't really take into account Anon joining the same namefag anime forum as Stella.