Work Text:
firsts / a big confession / bookstore date
“Takatsuki Sen again?”
Haise lifts his head, the round frame of his glasses nearly slipping off his nose. After a brief pause, he pushes them up and glances over at the blonde sitting by the cash register, who stares back at him with a grin. His smile, while sincere, is also somewhat hesitant, as if he’d debated speaking up several times before he’d opened his mouth and called out to him from across the book store.
“I mean,” the blonde says, clearing his throat. He looks a little embarrassed now, and still, Haise says nothing. “You read a lot of her works--I think, for the past few weeks since you’ve been coming?"
Haise reddens a little himself, slipping the book he’d been browsing through back into its spot on the shelf. “You noticed?”
“I don’t get many customers,” the other man admits with a half-shrug, scratching his cheek absentmindedly. He gestures around him and Haise’s eyes scan the rest of the store, indeed finding himself the only one pouring over shelves upon shelves of books. Otherwise, it was relatively empty. Come to think of it, he hadn’t really noticed a time when the shop was ever crowded with people. “Much less regular ones,” the blonde continues. “It wasn’t hard remembering your face--especially when you come by every week.”
Haise observes him pause, probably wondering if his next question was bordering on a little too personal for a customer and a hired bookstore employee. “You usually come by on Tuesdays. Day off?”
“I go when I have time after work.” Haise hadn’t really noticed he’d made coming into the store a habit until it had been pointed out to him--often enough to be considered a regular, even.
“Oh,” the other responds, and then, all too abruptly, the conversation falls silent again. Haise had been half expecting him to ask what his occupation was, and is slightly relieved when he doesn’t. Ordinary civilians weren’t one to converse so casually with investigators--much less those that were half-ghoul, although there was no plausible way the other would have known about that. Haise shifts his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably at the thought, hastily picking out a random Takatsuki book he hadn’t read yet (he vaguely takes note of the title--Arima-san had recommended him this before; he’d have to tell him what he thought about it later).
Haise discovers the man’s name when he comes up to the front desk to pay for his book, squinting at the nameplate pinned to his collared, somewhat wrinkled work shirt. Nagachika. He’d been coming by for weeks now, but this is the first time he’s ever spoken to the blonde before. “Thank you,” he says as his book is placed into a plastic shopping bag. “Um, Nagachika-san, right?”
The man looks startled for a moment (Haise worries--that was how it was read, wasn’t it?) before his shoulders lose their tension, and he shakes his head lightly. “Hide,” he corrects him, his smile inching just a little wider. “Just Hide is fine.”
He can feel his throat tightening without warning, painfully dry. “Hide, got it,” Haise says finally, when he finds his voice again, and wonders why he feels as if his heart is jumping straight out of his chest, why that name tastes so familiar on his tongue.
Over the next couple of weeks, Haise learns several things about Nagachika Hideyoshi (his first name, he’d told him, when asked--though he’d much rather be called Hide). He learns he’s only been working at the book shop a year and a couple of months, to appease a friend of his who’d practically handed off the business to him. At twenty two years old and jobless, Hide had only been too happy to accept. (“Besides,” Hide had said cheerily. “I like that old book smell, y’know? Kinda nostalgic.”)
Haise also learns that Hide doesn’t actually like reading all that much for someone working at a bookstore--at least, not the types of books he’s into. The blonde’s interests change sporadically, and nearly every week he has something new to tell Haise about. Last week was a book on murder mysteries that Hide had all but solved within the first few pages, and this week is a foreign band whose name Haise forgets almost as soon as Hide declares it excitedly. He can’t make sense of the lyrics anyway, but he supposes the tune is catchy enough, though it’s mostly entertaining just to see Hide belt out off-tune notes in accented English (which he’s taken to learning, or so he’s told him).
For all the knowledge he’s been given, Haise shares some in return. He’s never outright told Hide what his job was, although with all the complaining he does about his subordinates and higher ups, Hide’s probably gotten a good idea already. That’s another thing he’s noticed about the blonde--that he’s eerily good at piecing things together. Observant, Haise notes, from the way he distinctly avoids asking certain questions, like he knows he won’t be given an answer to them anyway. Haise isn’t obligated at all to spill every aspect about his life to someone he’s only known a few weeks, but he can’t help feeling guilty, as if Hide, of all people, had every right to know.
But there are times when he’ll come into the shop on Tuesdays at half past five in the afternoon, and he’ll see Hide with an open book on his face (almost always a detective novel), snoring away at the front desk, orange headphones fitted snugly over his ears. It’s a hard pang that hits his chest, painful and nostalgic, like this is a scene he’s come across countless times before, a long time ago. Maybe in a past life. But then he remembers the Quinx, Arima-san, his place in the CCG--and he puts that feeling away, contending himself with the latest Takatsuki novel to pass the time until Hide wakes up.
Before he knows it, once a week becomes twice a week, and then twice a week becomes thrice a week, and suddenly Haise’s visiting the shop nearly every day. It’s probably thanks to the lighter workload they’ve gotten now; investigation on the Nutcracker case is going slow, and he feels slightly guilty at the extra time he should’ve used to work on the case. He considers bringing his files with him to read up on while at the shop, but quickly rids himself of the idea--despite how close he and the blonde had gotten over the last couple of weeks, classified documents weren’t meant to be seen by the public eye. If word got out that Haise had let some citizen take a look at investigator files, no matter how much he thought Hide’s insight would help in the investigation, he’d definitely be demoted--maybe worse. The thought of Shimoguchi’s bloated lips curling into a sneer at his Rank 1 title being taken away makes Haise discard the idea entirely.
Or well, almost entirely.
The shop is mostly empty, as per usual, and Hide is taking the initiative to draw in more customers by setting up a book display by the front window. It’s an idea he’s enthusiastic about until it comes to the actual assemblage, and Haise has to stifle a laugh at the sound of muffled yelps when Hide drops a book on his foot every so often. He’d offered to help, but Hide had adamantly refused; he was a customer, how could Hide ask that of him? Besides, the blonde had assured him, this was his shop, and if he couldn’t do something so simple as to attract customers, then he really oughtn’t be working here at all.
After half an hour in the freezing weather though, Hide had relented somewhat, letting Haise sketch out a design for the display for him. Hide wasn’t much of an artist, judging from the lopsided tower of books threatening to topple over at any second. Haise’s intervention had resulted in a much needed improvement, which Hide had begrudgingly admitted was far better in comparison.
“Say,” Haise begins, his cheek resting on an upturned palm, elbow propped up on the table as he idly watches Hide’s efforts at lodging a book into a thin space between two others. Hide’s nose is beginning to turn red in the cold, and he rubs at it every so often, brows furrowed. Haise catches himself thinking it’s a cute habit, and has to will away the sudden heat flooding his cheeks. Thankfully, Hide hasn’t noticed, too absorbed in setting up the book display to pay attention to Haise’s internal crisis.
“Hm?” he hums distractedly, and when Haise stops talking, peers over the edge of a stack of books he’d only begun arranging. “What’d you say?”
“Nothing,” Haise says sheepishly, and then shakes his head. “I mean. Yes, I was--well. Say, hypothetically--if you were a ghoul, not that you are, I just meant. Hypothetically.” He silently berates himself in his head for that, but Hide only smiles, gently prompting him to keep on talking. “If you were a ghoul. And for some reason, well--you have a thing for crushing the testicles of men, and then drinking that--” Hide visibly cringes, and Haise does too. “What would be your motive?”
“That’s a little random,” Hide comments, but if he’s catching on to what Haise is implying, he doesn’t say anything. “It could be a personal belief, I guess--hatred for men in general. Possibly due to past trauma? Some form of abuse maybe… A family member? Past lover?” Hide looks contemplative. “You’d need more information to pin down a ghoul like that. Hypothetically, I mean.”
“Hypothetically,” he repeats, and nods, mostly to himself. In the end Hide had only confirmed ideas already circulating in his own mind.
“What’s with that topic, though?” Hide says lightly; his head is hidden by several stacks of books, and Haise can’t make out his expression. “You better not be getting yourself into trouble. A man’s only got one set of balls, you know.”
“It’s nothing, I was just curious.” Haise laughs a little, rubbing his chin and hoping Hide would let it go. He couldn’t let him know about this case--the thought is strangely familiar. Like he’s no stranger to hiding things from him before.
Thankfully, Hide only hums noncommittally, before straightening up and brushing off the dust on his pants. “There! Done. Looks pretty great, huh?” He grins, before tugging a stumbling Haise out onto the street to see the display in all its entirety. They stand there, all huddled up in the cold, staring at the small book display outside Hide’s book store. It’s not much, but he can tell Hide is excited at the thought of more customers coming in, delighted at the prospect that this could potentially liven up his store a tad bit. Haise himself feels a little wistful; he won’t have this bookstore all to himself anymore. He won’t have Hide all to himself anymore. The idea is somewhat disconcerting, and he doesn’t want to think about it.
Haise realizes Hide’s still waiting for him to give his opinion on it, so he does. “Better than your first one, I’ll give you that.” Haise’s grin mirrors the one on Hide’s face, breath coming out in wisps and shoulders shivering a little due to the sudden cold.
“Harsh. I already said thank you, didn’t I?” Hide pouts, playfully nudging Haise’s side. “C’mon, I’ll even put up a little plaque with your name on it--designed by Kaneki Ken, in nice, bold characters.”
Haise’s world stops. “W-What?” he rasps, chest heaving as he struggles to breathe. “What did you…” His mind is closing in on him now, and he can feel the voice of his former self plaguing his thoughts, mocking him slyly.
Give me my body back.
Hide is quick on the uptake, immediately realizing something is wrong. “Shit. Ka--Sasaki? I’m sorry, god, I--are you alright? What’s happening?” But Haise can’t hear him. The voice is getting louder and louder, more persistent, refusing to let him go. I won’t give in to you, he thinks, struggles so hard to believe. I won’t. Leave me alone.
“Sasaki.” He can feel Hide grabbing a hold of his shoulders, leading him to sit down on a stool somewhere inside the shop. Haise wants to tell him to leave, that he doesn’t want to hurt him, can’t afford hurting him, not Hide, anyone but Hide-- “Sasaki. Sasaki. Haise.” Hide’s voice sounds like it’s miles away and then some, like he’s all the way up on the surface while Haise is falling and drowning and struggling to breathe, water in his nose and in his ears, and he can’t, he can’t--
Not Hide, can’t let Hide know, he’ll think I’m a monster, he’ll hate me, not Hide, anyone but Hide--
“Kaneki.”
Haise looks up with wide eyes as Hide cradles his face in his hands, his face as pale as Haise felt his own was.
“Hey,” he says softly, looking him straight in the eyes. Haise can’t speak. “It’s okay. It’ll be alright. Breathe slowly for me, try and calm down a bit, yeah?”
Slowly, he can feel himself regaining control of his surroundings. The voice in his mind sinks into the darker recesses of his brain, lessens until only the echoes resound in his ears, and then nothing at all--but Hide’s voice is soothing and soft, lulling him into a sense of calm. For how long they stay like that, he doesn’t know, can’t keep track of time as it passes. Haise can’t comprehend how Hide’s able to do this, when he can’t even control himself.
“I have to go,” he says when his mind clears up enough that he can think straight, getting to his feet and stumbling a little. Hide reaches out to steady him, but Haise beelines straight for the door, only stopping once to glance over his shoulder to see Hide’s face, pale and stricken, watching him as he leaves. Haise feels as if this isn’t the first time.
He hasn’t been to the shop in a month.
Hide’s face the last time he’d seen it still leaves a bitter aftertaste in his mouth--he’s growing restless, and even his squad is beginning to notice.
It’s Mutsuki who approaches him first one night, with a mug of coffee and brows knotted in concern. “Sensei?”
Haise looks up at him with a grateful, exhausted smile, rubbing his temples. The smell of java beans relaxes him somewhat, but not by much. “Oh, coffee. Thanks.”
Mutsuki leaves the mug on his desk, careful to avoid the stacks of folders and strewn paper here and there. “You seem a lot more tired lately,” he comments softly. “You don’t think you’re working a bit too hard?”
In his defence, he had been rather preoccupied with work lately as well--he couldn’t attribute his lack of visits to the bookshop because he wanted to avoid Hide, although that was primarily the reason. The Nutcracker case was finally beginning to pick up, but the more leads they got, the more it seemed like they were going nowhere. The higher ups were demanding a status report and with Suzuya’s squad thirteen barely making any more progress than his own, he couldn’t afford to keep dawdling like this.
“Maybe a bit,” Haise admits. “It’s nothing though, I just need a little sleep and I’ll be fine.” Honestly, what kind of mentor was he, having his subordinates worry about him?
“Akira-san will scold you.”
Haise chuckles. “She probably will.”
Mutsuki gives him a look. “You know, sensei. If there’s anything bothering you…”
“You’re kind, Mutsuki-kun,” Haise says, placing a hand on Mutsuki’s head fondly. “But it’s nothing a little sleep won’t fix.”
“I shouldn’t have gotten you that coffee, then,” the younger boy mutters, eyes glancing at the mug sitting on his desk.
“I appreciate it all the same,” Haise makes sure to tell him, before giving his head one last pat. “You should probably go to sleep though. It’s late.”
“Really, sensei--”
“That’s an order from your superior,” Haise says jokingly, before nudging him in the direction of the door. “Go on. We’ll be up early tomorrow to collect info on Nutcracker. Get as much sleep as you can.”
Mutsuki glances one last time over his shoulder at him, reluctant, before nodding and returning to his room. As the door shuts behind him, Haise sighs, taking off his glasses and rubbing his temples again.
As if he didn’t have enough on his mind as it was; he’d have to get this Hide situation sorted out soon.
Soon turns out to be several weeks later; the Nutcracker case is at a standstill with absolutely no leads to go on. Casualties are increasing, almost to a concerning degree, but information is sparse, and Haise can’t seem to make the connection with what evidence they do have.
On top of that, the dreams come almost every night now, leaving him gasping awake in the early hours of the morning and unable to sleep. The dreams are different from the usual for once, since meeting Hide: they’re mostly wispy, blurry recollections of playground slides and soggy french fries, other times fast food restaurants with pretty waitresses and burgers that he can’t remember the taste of--until they transition into dark, damp sewers, flowers blossoming into dead bodies, and a hand that weighs heavy on his shoulder, so very, very warm.
It’s like looking into direct sunlight. Blinding.
I already knew.
Who cares about that?
Let’s go home.
For some reason, it’s from these dreams that Haise wakes up to discover he’s been crying in his sleep. He’s always a little disoriented after that, and it takes longer to get back into the swing of things. His squad--Shirazu and Mutsuki, mostly--is growing steadily more concerned. Even Akira has noticed he’s been out of sorts the past few weeks, and more than once had ordered him to go home and for god’s sake, take a nap. It’s only due to Arima’s busy schedule that Haise hasn’t met up with him yet, and he’s somewhat thankful for that; he couldn’t imagine the sort of reaction his state of mind right now would garner from the CCG’s top investigator.
Even as he’s sent home, however, he can’t fall asleep. Restlessness causes him to get out of the house, despite Akira’s sure disapproval when she finds out, and wander about the streets of Tokyo in the cold weather.
He swears he doesn’t mean to--it’s unconsciously that his feet take on that familiar route to Hide’s bookstore, until he comes to a stop outside the place itself, uncertain whether or not he should go in. It wasn’t as if he’d prepared anything to say--and even if he did, what could he say? Sorry I had a breakdown right in front of you? Sorry I avoided confronting you for months? Sorry I’m not the me that you remember?
In the end, it’s the weather that decides for him. It comes down to the fact that it’s late November and utterly freezing outside, and going inside simply means more warmth. Haise’s fingers are nearly frostbitten before he makes the decision, pushing open the door to the shop unsteadily. The door chime above him signals his entrance, but for once, Hide is preoccupied with another customer, rather than a detective novel, or an interesting manga, or snoozing while on the job.
Haise lingers by the doorway a second longer than he means to, but comes in anyway, slightly at a loss for what to do, before retreating to the new arrivals section of the store while he waits for Hide to finish.
It doesn’t take long for the customer to take care of their business, and soon enough the only living beings in the store are him and Hide. Haise realizes now is probably the time to say whatever it is he’d wanted to say, but he can’t seem to find the words.
There’s a long string of silence before Hide figures Haise isn’t going to be the one to break it. “Long time no see,” he says, a slightly strained smile on his face.
“I… I was busy,” Haise replies, voice hoarse. He clears it, embarrassed. “I…”
“Takatsuki came out with a new novel last week.”
Haise blinks. “Huh?”
“You weren’t coming around, so…” Hide slides a book across the counter in his direction. “I took the liberty of saving you a copy. It sold out pretty fast.”
“Oh. Um. Thank you.” Haise blinks again, owlishly, reaching out so his fingers brush over the cover. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yeah, well,” Hide rubs his nose sheepishly, eyes not meeting his. “Figured I’d have to. As an apology for last time.”
Haise’s eyes drop to the ground. “That wasn’t your fault, I--”
“I shouldn’t have said what I did. It was a slip on my part, I’m sorry. I can--let’s just forget about that. If you don’t want to talk about it, then we don’t have to.”
“No,” Haise blurts out before he can stop himself. Hide’s head turns to stare at him, bemused. “I mean… I don’t. I don’t want to not talk about it.”
Hide says nothing, so Haise takes this as a cue to continue. “I can’t remember the past twenty years of my life. I’ve only recently begun to build up a new one as the me now--so it’s… it’s a little scary, I guess. Honestly, I’d rather not remember.”
The blonde’s face shifts slightly, eyebrows furrowing.
“But recently, I’ve been having dreams. And I think, well, you’re in them--those dreams.”
“I’m flattered,” Hide says wryly; Haise shoots him a look.
“The thing is--I’m still scared. I’m not really sure I want to remember. But I like hanging out with you. And I don’t want to stop hanging out with you. I don’t really know why that is--”
The words stop there, and Haise can’t seem to figure out what else to say, so he presses his mouth into a tight line, hand curling anxiously against his side.
Hide breathes out, like he’s half-exasperated, half-fond. “So then. What do you want to do now?”
“What do I…?”
“About this,” Hide gestures between them.
“Well… I... “
“If you ask me, I want to keep being friends with you, too. But I don’t want whatever happened last time to happen again, so you’ll have to tell me when you’re not comfortable with something. Because honestly, I don’t think it’ll be so easy for me, separating you from… you,” Hide admits. “For me, it’s all or nothing, I guess.”
Haise breathes. “We can compromise.”
“We’ll take it slow.”
“Yeah.”
Hide’s eyes squint as his lips curve into a smile. “Guess that means I’m just gonna have to relearn you all over again. I can’t say I mind all that much, to be honest.”
Haise’s heart beats incredibly loud in his chest. He has to admit he doesn’t mind all that much either.
“Still though, took you long enough,” Hide says a few hours later, when they’re both settled down, Haise with a new book in his hands, Hide restocking one of the shelves of manga, occasionally peering into the ones with series he follows. “Thought you’d never come over and I’d have to go out and look for you. Again.”
“It probably wouldn’t be that hard,” Haise says, thinking about all the rumors circulating about the half-ghoul investigator and his troublemaking team. “I’m kind of famous where I work. Not to brag.”
“You’d be surprised,” Hide says knowingly. “Pass me that book over there, would you?”
Haise hands it over. “I’m still… I’m sorry about that.”
“You should be,” Hide says accusingly. “Ra--”
“Rabbits die when they get lonely.” Haise peers at him from behind his book. “Right?”
Hide blinks, before letting out a short laugh. “Right,” he says, voice warm with affection. “That’s right.”