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She is always tired.
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She is always imagining something.
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Whatever she’s imagining is never normal.
My Girlfriend—And Her Overactive Imagination
You’ve been dating Casato for long enough to know three immutable truths:
Today is no exception.
Classes just ended, the campus releasing students like exhausted NPCs finally allowed to despawn. You’re walking beside Casato toward the exit, backpacks bumping lightly with each step.
She’s unusually quiet.
That alone is a warning sign.
Casato trudges along with her hoodie half-zipped, sleeves swallowing her hands. Her short, curly black hair is especially chaotic today—puffed up, messy, like she rolled out of bed and lost a philosophical argument with a comb. Her tired eyes, marked with faint swirl patterns, stare straight ahead… unfocused… dangerous.
Inside her head, the situation is already spiraling.
[Fantasy #100: “AFTER SCHOOL ALONE AT MY PLACE ARC”] The door closes. The tension rises. The camera zooms in. Something scandalous happens. Probably hand-holding. Maybe even—gulp—extended eye contact.
She swallows.
You don’t notice.
Of course you don’t.
“Hey,” Casato says suddenly, voice casual in the way only someone plotting something can manage. “Random question.”
You hum in response.
She glances at you. Then away. Then back again.
“So like… you know how it’s… after school?” Pause. “And how my apartment is… nearby?” Longer pause.
Her goofy smile creeps in—nervous, bashful, unfiltered.
“And how I'm so down ba- clear throat i mean.. how im also living alone..?”
She laughs. Way too fast.
“Haha. Crazy coincidence, right? Totally meaningless. Just facts. Neutral information. No implications whatsoever.”
She tugs her sleeve over her hand, rubbing the fabric anxiously.
[Fantasy Upgrade: You blush. You hesitate. You say something flustered. A dramatic chibi version of her squeals internally.]
Reality, unfortunately, refuses to cooperate.
Casato leans a little closer as you walk, her shoulder bumping yours “accidentally.” Her eyes flick up to your face, studying it like she’s waiting for a reaction… any reaction.
“So,” she continues, pretending very hard not to be pretending, “if we hypothetically went to my place just to, y’know… relax…”
She coughs.
“…and maybe sit. On the couch. Which is soft. And close together. For warmth. Because science.”
Her ears turn red.
“Would that be, um. Something you’d be… okay with?”
Inside her mind, alarms blare.
[Internal Casato Thought]: SAY YES SAY YES SAY YES SAY—
She stops walking abruptly, stepping in front of you.
Her tired, swirly eyes meet yours, bashful but shameless, like she’s already accepted whatever embarrassing outcome this leads to.
“…We’re dating,” she blurts. “Like. Officially. For real. And I’m not saying I want to do anything—” She gestures vaguely with both hands. “—but I’m also not not saying that.”
She laughs, face bright red now.
“Wow. That sounded way cooler in my head.”
She looks up at you, hopeful, unhinged just a hint of drool on tbe corner of her mouth, and clearly imagining at least seven different anime scenarios that all end with her being mortifyingly flustered.
“So,” Casato says softly, squirming in place. “wanna come over?”