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He smells of summer and sandalwood, of bright sunshine and familiar roads, and Kaneki wants to fill himself with the scent of him until the mere thought can bring forth the rush of warmth and comfort. The man smells like safety and familiarity, like the home every ghoul yearns for but will never know. The man is enticing –a ripe fruit that must never be plucked.
“The coffee is delicious,” the man says smiling, head tilting to the side, and Kaneki thinks of slotting his nose behind that secret place behind the man’s ears, of breathing the entirety of the human in. Of sampling this exotic treat, of digging teeth through flesh and savoring the sweetness of him.
“Thank you. I’m sure the master will be glad to hear I’ve improved.”
The blonde laughs, bright and full-bellied, hand slapping Kaneki’s arm in friendly exuberance. “A plus-plus-plus. Would come again. Ten out of five stars, would recommend to all my friends.”
Kaneki smiles despite himself, grins so widely he uses muscles he has no memory of ever using, “Please do come again.”
--
Kaneki dreams of the man.
He tastes the blond in his dreams, gorges himself, savors the flavors that dance across his tongue, feels his heart race as he feasts. He crouches over the body and takes what he wants –picks warm heart from its cage, plucks dark red kidneys from their hiding spot, licks the dark, sticky trail down his hands, his arms. Consumes every last bit of the human until, finally only the head remains.
He takes in the chapped lips, the slope of the nose, the blindfolded eyes.
Because those eyes -those pools of amber always make him hesitate.
And Kaneki always wakes from those dreams, unsatiated and heart pounding, terror filling him as those eyes flood his thoughts.
--
The man becomes a regular. He comes in every Friday after his university classes and casually stakes his claim over the table near the windows with the best sunlight. He sips his cappuccino, eyes fixed on the world beyond the glass.
“I like to people watch,” the man had said once. “People are fascinating, you know? Like they’re so many and every one of them is so different and unique. No matter how long you watch them, or how thoroughly, what you know, what you see, is only a small part.”
“That’s interesting. Are you a philosophy major? Or perhaps a psychology or sociology major…” Kaneki drew out the last word, looked toward the blond expectantly, silently urging for a name to pair with that smile, those eyes.
“Nagachika Hideyoshi. But call me Hide, everyone does! And no, I’m not.” He took another sip of his coffee and Kaneki’s gaze was glued to the way the blond’s adam’s apple bobbed. “I’m an International Studies major.”
“Sounds complicated. What is it about?”
Hide laughed, “Honestly, I have no idea.”
“That’s terrible.”
“Honestly, I only decided to go into college because I didn’t know what else to do.” Hide leaned on his open palm and grinned lopsidedly at Kaneki. “I guess I hoped I’d figure it out in college. Who I am and what I want to be.”
Kaneki swallowed, tried to tamp down the swell of emotions under his ribcage. “I understand that feeling.”
“We can do it,” Hide promised. “I’ll be your personal cheerleader until you do.”
--
The sun.
For his entire childhood, Kaneki had dreamed of life in the sunlight. He imagined walking in the world humans occupied, imagined life out of the shadows, living without shame. Freedom was what lied under the sun, freedom to be whatever he wanted, to be whoever he wished. He wouldn’t be tied down by what he was, by the blood on his hands.
--
Kaneki bumps into Hide on a Sunday morning.
The ghoul is leaving his favorite bookstore, signed novel clutched in his greedy hands, when he crashes into someone. He jerks his head up from his seat on the chilly asphalt when he sees the eyes he sees every time he closes his. The blond is hastily fumbling with his lurid orange headset, a light dusting of pink across his high cheekbones and the tips of his ears and Kaneki’s indignation fades as he accepts the helping hand.
“I’m so sorry! I was having some trouble with my phone and I really wasn’t paying attention and –”
“It’s fine, really.” Kaneki absently brushes off the seat of his pants, breathes deeply, inhales the scent that sets his blood aflame.
“Let me treat you to lunch as an apology. Please.”
And the refusal is on the tip of his tongue, but it dies when their eyes lock and Hide shrugs sheepishly, head tilting to the side in embarrassment. He trips over his tongue in his haste to reply. “Sure. But how about coffee instead? I had an early lunch.”
“Only if you don’t mind watching me eat? I’m starving.”
--
Hide makes a thoroughly satisfied noise as he takes another bite out of his chocolate cheesecake.
“You’re really enjoying that,” Kaneki muses, lips quirking.
“And you are missing out,” Hide croons. “Not that I’ll share, of course. If you hadn’t turned down lunch, you would be enjoying some of this perfection too.”
Kaneki raises an eyebrow. “Oh really? And if I just…” He appropriates the plate before the blond can react and raises it to his eyes, inspects the partially eaten sweet. “I do believe I could have a bite myself…”
“Unhand the cake, you fiend!” Hide lurches forward, trying to reclaim his treat. “Kaneki this is cruel and unusual punishment. I want my cake.”
Once again, Kaneki is distracted by Hide’s lips, the plush curve of them, the color of them, the taste. It isn’t until that he does taste them –and the bitter-rust tang of the chocolate –that Kaneki realizes that he is kissing the blond. He pulls back, points to the cake and tries to crush the rising embarrassment. “How about I relinquish my hostage in exchange for a promise?”
“I do not negotiate with terrorists,” Hide says, face flushed, eyes crinkling.
“You promise to meet me at say…. 9:30 next Sunday morning in front of the zoo and I’ll return this decadent morsel to your custody.”
“I do not negotiate with terrorists,” the blond asserts, reclaiming his cake. “But I guess I can date them.”
--
“Dammit,” Kaneki hisses, clutching his gaping side. “That fucking Dove.” He tears off one of the dead man's arms, rends flesh from bone, consumes, as he tries to mend, to heal.
There are footsteps and Kaneki can see the shadows of quinque as Doves rush toward him. He needs time. More time. He can feel flesh knitting together, but they will converge on him too soon.
“Come here,” someone whispers. “Kaneki.”
He follows the voice, finds a grate and a familiar face staring up at him from past it. “Hide?”
“Hurry up, you idiot.” Hide is already descending the ladder. “I’m not dating a dead man.”
Kaneki pulls out the grate, tosses the mangled steel aside and jumps down the hole. “How…?”
How long have you known?
“I said hurry.” The blond hisses as he disappears down the twisting tunnels. “Stick close or you’re going to pop up somewhere in the middle of the city.”
“And how do you know how to navigate this rat maze?”
Hide shoots an embarrassed look over his shoulder. “Sometimes I like to play detective.” The human ducks into a smaller duct, calling, “Watch your head.”
--
“Sorry, sorry, sorry!”
Warm hands soothe his side as wet cloth dabs at his wound. “No alcohol, really? It won’t get infected?”
“We aren’t as fragile as humans.”
The once-tender hands tug more tightly than needed at the bandages. “You’re such an ass.”
Kaneki covers the unsteady hands with one hand, says softly, “Hide, we have to talk.”
“You’re hurt.”
“Hide.”
The blond finally looks up to meet his gaze, “Kaneki…”
“How long have you known.”
“Always.” Hide looks at their intertwined hands, teeth absentmindedly worrying chapped lips. “You’re not a very good actor.”
“Why…” The ghoul ghosts his fingers against the inside of the human’s wrist, feels the steady thrum of the blond’s heart beating. “Why are you still here.”
“Why do you think?” Hide breathes, leaning forward. Gently, he drops a kiss on the ghoul’s cheek.
Slowly, Kaneki wraps himself around the other man, finally allows himself to burrow his nose into the crook of the blond’s neck, to breathe in deep as the scent that first lured him to this human, his human. He licks the salt from sun-kissed skin, scrapes teeth against yielding flesh before gently biting down. Hide gasps and Kaneki cannot handle being the cause of those tears, cannot forgive himself for causing them to well.
“You undo me,” Kaneki confesses, cupping the face of the man who has invaded him, who has slipped through every chink in his defenses and filled every hidden, secret part like poured water. Reverently, he wipes away the pearls that are caught in dark lashes. He can see pieces of himself reflected in liquid amber. “I am undone.”
“We can work with that," Hide whispers, arms encircling the ghoul’s shoulders. “We can remake the broken pieces of ourselves until we fit."