Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Nagachika Hideyoshi regarded himself as a morning person. He woke up to the morning radio, stretching and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He stepped out of bed and sang in the shower—his neighbors complained he was out of tune, but they just didn’t get his unique talent for passionately singing hits from old boy bands before 6AM. After getting dressed, he sat down on the kitchen and stuffed his mouth with cereal while watching some morning talk show he had gotten strangely addicted to over the months. After that, he grabbed his jacket, his backpack, and his headphones and headed out, ready to face another wonderful day.

Nagachika Hideyoshi—or as he preferred to be called, Hide—skipped while walking, humming to the tune blasting through his headphones. He was the type of person that stopped to pet a dog and pick up a piece of garbage to throw it into the trashcan. He had set a morning routine just so he could break it. He would stop and stare at a particularly funny shaped cloud or at a plant that had managed to grow on the hard concrete. He would help a random stranger that had fallen onto the ground, pick their scattered files off the floor and then go off to flirt with the pretty clerk at the bakery around the corner.

Hide took different routes to go to class every day. And when he got out of class to go to work, he did the same thing. He walked through different paths, taking the crowded streets or the quiet alleys.

Hide tried his best to make every single day an adventure, something really special. He loved getting home exhausted and going to sleep with a dopey smile, because man, isn’t life great.

That day was another one of those special days. He had gotten yelled at by his neighbors for his awesome shower performance, run out of cereal and been forced to eat soggy toast, and had to put some children’s show on the TV instead of his usual channel. These little irregularities made him feel like the day would be extra special, so he hummed cheerfully as he stepped out of his home.

He skipped happily as he took yet another different route, going through one of the many alleyways in the city of Tokyo. It had been a while since he’d taken this path, so he excitedly ventured into a narrow alley, looking at his surroundings with wide, curious eyes.

The alleyway had nothing particular about it—it was just one out of many similar ones, and just as Hide started losing interest and picked up his pace, his eyes locked on the wall to his left.

A quiet gasp escaped from the blonde’s lips as he stepped closer to the wall. He leaned in to examine the painted surface and traced his fingers over it. It wasn’t the first time graffiti had caught his attention, but this one had something special to it that he couldn’t really decipher.

The lines were thick and outlined by something that seemed like a marker, making them seem smoother and more defined. The graffiti showed a hunched figure of a young boy, sitting on a chair by an empty table with a book on his hands. The colors were all soft blues and obsidian blacks, and they gave the graffiti a quiet and relaxed aura. Hide could feel something else though, like a small tinge of loneliness coming from the composition. He traced his fingers over it again, the corners of his lips turning down in a worried frown.

He tried to decipher the sudden tightness in his chest as something else than empathy, because really, what was there to be empathetic about? He was cheerfully practicing his daily routine-breaking routine just a moment ago, but just seeing the graffiti knocked the breath out of him. It wasn’t especially amazingly drawn, but somehow Hide felt like the artist behind it possessed an incredible amount skill and still decided to portray it with simplicity. It focused more on the colors and the composition to give it a certain vibe that made Hide feel like he was experiencing the same emotions the artist felt while drawing it.

The blonde inhaled deeply and stepped away from the wall, walking away and heading to work without a skip on his step.

He spaced out completely as he made his way to Kamii University, absentmindedly dragging his feet. What was so special about the graffiti anyway? It was just a bunch of colored lines smushed together in a wall. How did the artist get to make him feel such a confusing turmoil of emotions with just that? What were they trying to express by that? Were they even trying to express that loneliness, or had it just been accidental due to how they were feeling while drawing it? Were they okay? Did they have someone to support them while they were feeling bad?

Hide felt a sharp pain on his forehead and stepped back, rubbing it and grimacing at the light post that had dared to cross his path. How dare it knock against him. Rude.

“Nagachika,” a monotone voice called.

Hide turned around, still glaring and rubbing his face. He pouted at his upperclassman.

“Good morning, Nishio-shan,” he wheezed tiredly.

“What the fuck are you doing,” Nishio deadpanned, sipping his coffee and adjusting the strap of his messenger bag so it didn’t tangle with his scarf.

“I’m about to show this light post the wrath of a thousand suns,” the blonde stated. He tilted his head before adding, “By the way, you look like such a hipster today that I have to ask if the glasses are fake.”

His upperclassman gave him a blank look, sipped his cup of coffee again, and silently turned around to walk away.

Well, what can you do. Hide was used to Nishio’s cold—and frankly rude—attitude towards him, and he didn’t mind how difficult to deal with the bespectacled man was. He could say that over the months, he had established some sort of companionship with him, or something like that. He didn’t really know, but the fact that Nishio somewhat put up with him was proof that there was some sort of bond there.

The blonde sighed and looked around, wondering when he had gotten to the campus. Walking on autopilot wasn’t really his thing, so he felt confused and disoriented.

He groaned quietly and made his way to his first class, kicking a pebble.

What the hell.

Hide sighed in relief when he heard the bell announcing the end of his last class of the day. He idly packed his stuff, haphazardly throwing his notes and writing supplies into his bag, not caring about getting them wrinkled. He stood up, heading for the exit.

The day had been tiring as hell, and it wasn't even over yet. He had spent most of his classes zoning out and thinking about the person behind the graffiti he'd seen. One thing would be thinking about the graffiti itself, that would be understandable, but why was his mind drifting off and making him concerned about someone he knew absolutely nothing about? Was there even something to be concerned about? What did he even know?

Hide was a really perceptive guy. He had always been. He’d had a very sharp intuition since he was a child, especially regarding other people's feelings. He could tell someone's mood by only a glance, and he could notice immediately when someone was lying. He could figure out someone's habits, quirks, and body language by observing them for only a few minutes.

Hide was indeed one of the sharpest tools in the box. If he wasn't he would probably think Nishio hated him for real, but he knew better than that. Observing people was his forte, and that's why he loved meeting new friends. It gave him a chance to investigate a completely different person and get to know every aspect of their personality.

Hide was really intuitive.  But that didn't mean he could really see so much about a person through some graffiti. It didn't happen much, but he was certainly wrong this time. So why was he fretting over it?

The blonde shook his head and strolled down the stairs. He needed to head to work now, and he couldn’t be late. He also needed to concentrate, because even though he was only an errand boy he was absolutely terrified of what Akira might do to him if he slacked off.

So Hide willed himself to forget about the mysterious person behind the graffiti for the rest of the day. He was pretty good at keeping his emotions in check and controlling them after all.

The dark-haired boy pulled his black hood farther down so it would shield his face even more. He walked dragging his feet, his shoulders hunched, trying to make himself as little as possible.

It wasn’t like his fear of being seen was rational at all, since it was 2AM and the streets were pretty empty, especially near the alleyway he was heading to. But he was still afraid, —constantly afraid of being found out and yelled at again and afraid of another lecture that made him feel like nothing.

He tip-toed around the streets of Tokyo, venturing further into them until he found the alley. He set his bag down and pulled out his spray cans. He shook the can of purple paint in his hand a few times, staring up at what he had painted the previous night. He inhaled deeply before straightening his spine and getting to work, all traces of fear forgotten and replaced with the need to capture the swirl of emotions bubbling inside of him on the wall.

He carefully brought the nozzle up to the wall and pressed slightly, the comforting smell of spray paint filling his nostrils.

Hide inhaled deeply as he scrubbed his hair, preparing for the next line, the decisive one, his time to shine.

“Neaaaaaaaaaar,” he sang, absolutely and completely in tune, “faaaaaaaaaaar, whereeeeeeeeever—” The blonde stopped to cough after his voice cracked, but he wasn’t a man that gave up easily. “You aaaaaaaaareee. I believe—”

He was cut off by insistent knocking on the wall and muffled screams telling him to shut up (“It’s too early for tone-deaf people to be singing this loudly!”). Rude.

“You guys don’t understand true art!” Hide yelled back, turning off the shower head and wrapping a towel around his waist, heading to his room to get dressed. He kept humming the same song as he wriggled into his underwear, spinning dramatically and touching his chest as he preached to the heavens that his heart would go on and on.

The blonde faithfully went through his morning routine, eating fruit instead of cereal and not turning on the TV at all. He put on his jacket, hung his headphones around his neck, and took off, skipping as usual.

He hummed as he walked confidently, looking around with a cheerful smile. He passed a coffee shop, and he greeted the pretty lady with the long black hair as she swept the front of the store, earning a confused stare and a gentle nod of acknowledgement.

Hide’s step came to a halt when he neared the path he had taken the previous day. He pondered his options for a second. He could choose another way to go to Kamii and wonder about the graffiti the whole day, or he could try to go through the same path and deal with however looking at the artwork again would affect him.

The blonde shrugged internally, heading towards that alleyway. Curiosity had gotten to the best of him, and it wasn’t that surprising. Hide didn’t even know what he was expecting to see, since it was probably just the same thing as the previous day, but he still felt the need to check again.

He walked slower, not really knowing how to describe how he was feeling. The mix of curiosity, wonder, and wariness left him confused. It wasn’t like his good mood had dropped per se, but the graffiti had somehow managed to affect him in a way he still couldn’t decipher.

Hide idly dragged his hand across the wall, getting closer to his destination. He stopped just before turning the corner, took a deep breath and two steps forward, turning around to face the wall that had rocked his day.

The boy inhaled sharply and immediately leant forward to study the graffiti closely. They had continued it. The artist had continued the graffiti.

Hide suppressed an excited giggle as he took a step back to admire the whole thing. The figure of the boy was still there, but now a pretty lady with long purple hair was sitting in front of him with another book on her hands. The artist had painted over the previous drawing with what seemed like a marker, making the boy’s eyes look up at the lady and his lips quirk up into a soft smile. There was also spray painting covering the dull tones that were there before, the composition full of pastel purples and bright whites combining with the blues and blacks. The graffiti had a much lighter tone as a whole, radiating soft optimism and content happiness.

Hide smiled in awe, admiring the work. One of the reasons why the artist had drawn with simplicity the first time was so they could add more details the next day. The blonde was amazed at how much the vibe of the graffiti had changed overnight, and he let out a tiny chuckle. He felt so unbelievably relieved that the person behind the drawing seemed in higher spirits. Then again, he’d probably been wrong when he assumed that the artist drew based on their current mood, but he couldn’t help but feel even happier than before.

He reached into his bag and pulled out his sticky notes and a pen, writing down a few words and sticking the note onto the wall, just next to the drawing. He giggled, took out his phone and took a picture of the wall, turning around and skipping towards his university.

That might have been a stupid idea, but really, what was there to lose?

The dark-haired boy nearly jogged towards the alleyway, keeping his eyes wide open but his head ducked. He wanted the tears to stop, but he didn’t want to be seen by anyone, even if the streets were almost deserted.

He had no reason to cry. He didn’t want to shed tears for a family that didn’t even love him, that didn’t even accept him as their family, and that didn’t even acknowledge his existence if it wasn’t to yell at him.

He shook his head and slowed down, breathlessly panting. He really needed to work out more.

The young male walked towards his destination, dragging his feet the rest of the way. At least the tears seemed to be stopping, but now he felt tired and still a little out of breath. The tight feeling in his chest wouldn’t go away, but he knew the way to make it disappear. As soon as he got to painting he would forget everything and channel his frustrations, and then he would be good, —then he would be fine. Until he crumbled down again.

But that wasn’t something he wanted to think about at the moment.

He arrived at the alley and set down his bag, taking out his painting supplies. He started shaking one of the cans, ready to start working. He positioned the nozzle right where he wanted to start painting, but he caught himself before starting to do so. He put down the spray can and looked curiously at the sticky note on the wall. He couldn’t read the messy handwriting very well, so he took out the flashlight he kept in his bag. He clicked it open and pointed the bright light at the wall, squinting to read the words.

hey! i love your graffiti, your style is so cool and special and stuff~ i love how you continued it and changed the whole vibe it was awesome! r u gonna continue it more? bec i would love to see more of it, it would deffo brighten my mornings ( ﾟ∀ﾟ)ﾉﾞ

The dark-haired boy blinked repeatedly and reread the note. Was that meant for him? Was it a joke? It seemed like a joke…

He looked at the wall, and then all around the alleyway, lighting the place with his flashlight. His gaze dropped to the note again. It had to be meant for him. It had been placed just next to his graffiti, and it was the only one in the alley. He pursed his lips and reread it again.

That was definitely a joke. For sure. Who would even like what he had drawn? It was really crappy.

The boy reread it once more and had to bite his lip to contain a smile. No. No. He couldn’t let himself hope that it wasn’t a bad prank.

But just who the hell was this person? Their handwriting was so messy and rushed, like they had been too excited to write patiently. And they wrote an emoticon. They actually wrote down a phone emoticon on paper. That had to be a joke. Who even does that?

What if it wasn’t a joke though? What if that person had actually enjoyed his graffiti? What if they actually looked forward to seeing its continuation the next day? What if he had actually made someone’s day better?

He really knew better than to just trust those rushed words written down on the tiny note. He shouldn’t trust it. He should crumple it and throw it away, continuing his thing. But what if they were true? What if he allowed himself to trust at least this once?

He giggled and covered his mouth, unable to fight back his smile anymore. He reread the note once more before folding it and keeping it in the pocket of his hoodie. He bent down to pick up his spray can again and got to work with a smile for the first time in what seemed like forever.

Chapter Text

Kaneki Ken regarded himself as a night owl. He had no troubles working at Anteiku during the day, and he was able to stand his afternoon classes without feeling excessively sleepy. But it was during night that he felt truly awake. From 10PM to the first hours in the morning, he always felt restless. His fingers itched, his body felt edgy. He needed to do something, anything.

Anything but sleep.

Kaneki Ken didn’t like to sleep.

He liked keeping himself busy with his work at the coffee shop, he liked staying behind after his last night class to pick up a few books on the library, and he liked taking a detour while going home to avoid getting there. He didn’t like his home. He didn’t like his aunt, he didn’t like his uncle, he didn’t like his cousin.

He had liked—no, he had loved his mother. He had loved her so much, and he had enjoyed their time together so much. But she was gone and she wouldn’t come back, so now he was stuck with people that he didn’t want to call his family. And that was fine, because they probably didn’t want him to say he was their family anyway.

So coming home for him meant opening the door, giving a dry greeting and immediately secluding himself in his room. If he was lucky, he would be ignored for the day; if he had his average bad luck, his aunt would barge in with the purpose of making him feel like nothing more than a waste of space.

Useless.

Unworthy.

Trash.

Trash.

Trash.

There were a lot of things Kaneki didn’t like, but he really couldn’t choose which one was the worst one. Maybe his aunt. Maybe his nightmares. Maybe his inferiority complex. Maybe crying himself to sleep every night. He didn’t know. He hated them all.

There was still positive stuff on his life, of course. He had his friends at Anteiku. Yoshimura, Touka, Nishio, Hinami, Yomo, Irimi, Koma—he loved them all. Even their pet bird Loser. He also had his books, which granted his wish of being able to lose himself in a completely different world that had nothing to do with the one he lived in.

And last but not least, he had his late night painting activities. Kaneki had always been kind of skillful at drawing. He was only an amateur that doodled from time to time, but he was still a fairly decent artist overall. Spray painting was different though. It was so much harder to handle, and Kaneki wasn’t good at painting on a vertical surface. But it had ended up being so fun and interesting to experiment with.

At first he had never intended to try and paint graffiti, but one day he had walked in front of a store full of painting supplies and decided to go in. Before he knew it, he had found himself in front of the spray painting aisle, looking at the supplies with mild curiosity. That had been the start of several very messy attempts at trying to paint with the spray cans he hadn’t even intended to buy.

After failing at painting something halfway decent various times, he had just stocked the half empty cans in one of his drawers and forgotten about them. Kaneki had never intended to try again, since he was a boy who got easily discouraged. But in the end, life's turns and twists are unpredictable, and you can't say never.

The night his aunt had come yelling at him because he was far too loud—blaming him for being too loud while he thrashed around in his sleep due to his nightmares, and then threatening to kick him out if he kept up the noise—was the night he decided to try again. He had angrily grabbed his supplies, put on a black hoodie, and sneaked out of the house. He had walked around aimlessly before finding an empty alleyway that had at least a little blank space on a wall.

That was when he had gotten out his spray cans and started painting thoughtlessly. He didn’t want to think about what he was doing. He just coated the wall with colors angrily, unable to see clearly because of the veil of tears covering his eyes. Before he knew it, his spray can had run out of paint, so he just stepped back and looked at his unfinished work after wiping away the tears.

The dark-haired boy had exhaled loudly as he had seen the wall. He had subconsciously painted one of his nagging nightmares, a crooked figure of a boy who really resembled him. He had some strange red appendages twisting out of his skin and blood—so much blood everywhere.

At that time, Kaneki had panicked. He had taken his black spray can and painted thick dark lines over his previous graffiti before packing up and leaving. He had thought that painting out his nightmare was a bad idea, but after he got his solid two hours of unsteady sleep he started thinking about how he had felt while he was painting.

He had felt relieved. Like he had gotten something big out of his chest, a heavy weight off of his slender shoulders. Kaneki wasn’t someone who felt comfortable talking about his feelings at all—not that there would be anyone there willing to listen to his stupid problems, but still—so he always kept his emotions bottled up. But, for some strange reason, painting his nightmare had felt so incredibly liberating. It had felt so good, and when he had come back home and went back to sleep he hadn’t actually dreamed about anything.

So this was how Kaneki Ken had started regularly painting graffiti. Before he knew it, it had become a daily—or nightly—habit for him. At first he just painted random representations of the weird versions of himself that he dreamt of: him with a dark black and red eye, him with a weird mask and those strange warm appendages coming out of his back, him tied to a chair, dirty and bloody, a white-haired him getting his insides pierced, the same white-haired him getting stabbed through his skull... But after a while he had found a specific alleyway that had an entire blank wall without anything painted on it. And that was when he had decided that he would try to portray the scenes he dreamt of with some sort of order, and not just chaotic figures thrown all over the city.

It had seemed like a challenge, trying to put an order to his nightmares and painting them out in the same place, but he had thought that hey, it wasn’t such a bad idea. The graffiti paintings had helped him out so far, so there was nothing to lose. Plus, it seemed like it could be something therapeutic, and he could even get to see the process of his art.

And then, something really unexpected had happened to him the previous night. Kaneki had never thought that someone would actually pay attention to his graffiti. He had just done it for himself, to express his own bottled up feelings and somewhat let them out. So when he had found that sticky note with the messy and scribbled kind words next to his graffiti, he had refused to believe it. It had to be a joke, so he didn’t want to be deceived by it.

But at the moment, Kaneki was standing in front of that wall and staring at another sticky note from the same person. The black-haired boy bit his lip to fight back another smile as he read that messy handwriting.

bruh. wow. ur continuing this. ur doing this shit. keep it up bec it looks better every day like shit this is what i look forward the most in the mornings now. imma take a pic of this bruh omg L(・o・)」

“Who are you?” Kaneki whispered to himself as he took the note and folded it neatly, stocking it in his pocket before taking his spray cans and getting to work.

Who are you?

And why do you have the power to cheer me up so easily?

The blonde boy skipped happily as he turned around the corner, humming a cheerful tune. He jumped joyfully as he approached his favorite alleyway in the entire world.

His pace quickened as he got closer to his destination. He didn’t really know when that wall had gone from being a simple shortcut to being his goal, but he didn’t mind.

The boy wondered if the graffiti artist had gotten his second note. He hoped it had made them smile. If he could get that artist to enjoy his little notes at least a little bit as much as he enjoyed their art then he would be overjoyed for weeks. Maybe even months.

He stopped dead in his tracks right before turning around the corner that would lead him to the alleyway. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes before taking two steps forward and three steps to the side so he was facing The Wall.

The blonde boy exhaled and opened his eyes, an eager smile spread across his features.

Just as expected, the artist had continued the graffiti. They had drawn the figures of the purple-haired lady and the dark-haired boy previously portrayed walking side by side. Their environment was a mass of blurry bright colors that blended together, creating a really pretty contrast between the two walking figures and their background. As they had shown in the previous parts of the graffiti, the art style wasn’t very complex, but the compositions and the colors made the graffiti stunning. Breathtaking. Eye-catching. As soon as he had locked his gaze on it, he had felt a sharp sensation rocking through his chest. This artist knew how to create an impact, and the blonde loved that.

He took his phone out of his pocket and took a picture at the wall before reaching into his bag for his sticky notes.

The blonde boy giggled as he started writing.

Kaneki walked to the staff room, dragging his feet and staring at the ground. He couldn’t help but wonder who the person behind the notes was. He had only gotten two notes so far, but he was so intrigued already. He had never really shown his art to anyone, so getting feedback felt strange. And especially if it was such a curious form of feedback.

He hoped that person kept showing interest in his graffiti. He hoped he really got to make their day brighter, even if it was just a little bit. He hoped that they were having a nice time wherever they were. He hoped he could somehow thank them for what they did for him, even if it was something as little as writing a short comment on a sticky note.

Kaneki wondered what that person was doing at the moment. Maybe they were working? Or maybe they were in class? They seemed like someone young, or at least their way of writing gave out that vibe. They were probably still going to school. Or not, maybe they were just a silly adult. Maybe they were still a little child. What was their age span?

The black-haired boy grunted as knocked his head against a door frame that appeared out of nowhere. He dropped the empty tray he was holding and it collided loudly against the floor.

“What the fuck?” a voice called from the staff room.

“I’m sorry…” Kaneki whined against the flat surface, his voice muffled.

“What the hell did you do now?”

Kaneki took a step backwards and ran a hand through his face, pressing his palm against his nose. He saw his upperclassman stroll towards him and he covered his face with his hands, feeling an embarrassed blush creep up his face.

“Did you just bump against the door frame?” Nishio asked raising an eyebrow in a very sassy expression.

“No?” Kaneki answered, still hiding in his hands.

“You can’t even fucking go through a door normally,” the bespectacled man stated blankly, setting a hand on his hip in a sassy pose. That was Nishio for you, a tall mass of walking sass.

“Th-that’s not true…” the younger boy wailed weakly.

“Why are all the kids these days in the fucking clouds all the time?” Nishio said, disgust practically dripping off his words.

“I’m not—”

“Jesus fucking Christ. First Nagachika, and then you.”

“I don’t know who that is but—”

“Why do you guys keep bumping against random stuff? Just what the hell is wrong with you?”

“Nishio-senpai, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kaneki said, peeking out of his hands.

“Just get your head out of your ass already,” Nishio snapped before storming off to the counter.

Kaneki blinked repeatedly, confused. Nishio was always done with everyone who wasn’t his pretty and heavenly patient girlfriend, so an interaction like this wasn’t unusual. He shook his head and stepped to the side, going into the staff room to change out of his uniform and finally head to his evening classes.

Just some more hours and he’d have to go home.

Just a bit more and he’d have to be there.

Kaneki didn’t want to go home.

Kaneki didn’t like calling that place his home.

Kaneki didn’t want to go back there.

But he had to.

He finished changing clothes and slung his messenger bag over his shoulders. He headed off, rubbing his nose, still sore from the impact against the door frame.

Kaneki wondered if the person who had written him those notes had a warm home to come back to.

He really hoped they did.

The black-haired boy fumbled with the keys and tried to unlock the door as silently as he could. He cringed as the door creaked while being opened, and tried to tiptoe into the hallway. He just had to get to his room without making too much noise. It seemed simple enough.

But he wouldn’t be Kaneki Ken if he didn’t screw up in the most simple things. He tripped on his own feet. Good job, Kaneki.

“Ken-kun? Is that you?”

Ah, of course she heard me.

“Ye-yeah. Good evening.” he called back, stopping dead in his track.

“Good evening? Get over here right now,” his aunt ordered from the living room, practically hissing.

Kaneki lowered his head and started dragging his feet to get to his “family”.

For him, coming home late could go two different ways. The first one, and his preferred option, was getting completely ignored and being able to lock himself up in his room. The second one happened when his aunt had a bad day at work or had a fight with her problematic child. That one resulted in her throwing all of her anger at Kaneki, effectively making him feel like garbage.

It seemed like that day was one of those days. Tough luck, he guessed.

“Do you know what time it is?” the woman accused as soon as he got to the living room. She was sitting on the couch, a glass of wine on her right hand and the TV remote in the other.

“Uh, 1AM?” the boy murmured, still not daring to look at his aunt.

“I can’t hear you. How many times have I told you to speak up at a normal volume? Jeez,” she said, face twisting and voice getting louder.

“One in the morning, ma’am.” Kaneki said a bit louder. He hated calling her that, but that was the only way she wouldn’t get mad at him while addressing her: show a respect he didn’t hold towards her.

“Exactly. So, what’s your excuse this time? Weren’t you supposed to be here an hour ago?” she ground out.

Kaneki flinched at her accusing tone and pursed his lips. Why did she have to be so persistent? She didn’t care either way—she just wanted to lash out at him.

“I stayed over at the library. Studying.” He tried to muster up the strength of speaking politely instead of breaking into tears, or, even worse, snapping.

“What are you trying to prove?” she accused. “Your grades are already good. You’re not impressing anyone by doing this.”

Well, it’s not my own fault that your son doesn’t do good in school and had to repeat a year, he didn’t say.

“Nothing, ma’am,” he answered instead.

“You’re being as rude as my sister used to be. Apologize.” she ordered.

“I’m sorry.”

I’m not sorry. I have done nothing wrong.

“You better stop putting up this good boy act. You resemble your mother too much. Pisses me off,” his aunt grumbled.

Thank god I turned out like her and not like you.

“I’m sorry, ma’am.”

“Just go. I can’t stand looking at you any longer.” She waved her hand without even looking at him, downing her drink.

Yeah, me neither.

“Thank you. Good night.”

Kaneki bowed before stepping away.

“Useless kid,” the woman muttered under her breath, loud enough for Kaneki to hear.

Don’t you think I know that?

I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

I hate this.

I hate myself.

I want to leave.

I need to leave.

The boy had to contain himself from slamming the door of his room. He changed hurriedly before snatching his bag from its hideout under the bed and sneaking out of the window as quietly as he could, going down the emergency staircase. He needed to get away from there as soon as he could.

He couldn’t stand being there any longer.

The blonde forced himself to walk in a steady pace. He had thought the enthusiasm would die down after a couple of days, but he felt the urge to basically sprint towards his favorite alleyway.

He wanted to take long though. A thing he had always loved to do was to build up anticipation before doing something. That way, whenever he got to do whatever he was waiting for, it would feel ten times more awesome.

So he walked slowly. Well, as slowly as he could muster himself to walk. Which meant long—as long as his legs would allow. He really wasn’t that tall—and energetic strides.

He stopped humming because he was sort of running out of breath, but he still kept walking at the same pace, and somehow started giggling. He wanted to get there. He wanted to see the graffiti. He wanted to write another note for the artist.

He wanted to make them smile.

He wanted to make them happy.

He wanted to encourage them to continue forever.

Maybe that was a bit too much, but he couldn’t help it. He adored that graffiti, and to him that also meant adoring the person behind it.

He kept giggling happily as he wondered about the person behind his new favorite thing, and before he knew it, he had gotten to the alleyway. Ah, time sure flied when you thought about something you liked.

He flexed his knees and counted to three before jumping forward and taking his three steps to the side. He closed his eyes and turned around.

“I’m home~” he beamed before opening his eyes, prepared to take the graffiti in.

The boy didn’t like having expectations on anything. That way everything that caught his eye would be a thrilling surprise. He really hadn’t foreseen what he saw, though. At all.

The graffiti had turned so dark from one day to the other. The pretty bright colors from the previous day had merged with obscure blacks and reds. The two already familiar figures had went from happily walking next to eachother to… hugging on a dark alleyway? No, that wasn’t hugging.

The purple-haired lady had her face buried on the boy’s shoulder. Something was starting to emerge from her back, something sharp, with a dark red color. The boy’s expression looked so different compared to the ones drawn previously, during the beginning of the wall. He wasn’t sad and serene or happy and fidgety—he looked absolutely terrified. His figure was stiff, and his skin was painted with an intense white that made him look even paler against the dark surroundings. Both bodies and their surroundings were shaded somberly to the point where he couldn’t tell what was black and what was red.

The boy squinted and leaned closer to the wall to examine the graffiti. He really couldn’t tell if the red shades were just to give the drawing a creepy aura or if it was blood. Why was there suddenly blood? What was that on the lady’s back? What had happened to the characters?

What had happened to the artist?

Were they okay?

The boy didn’t ponder anything before hurriedly taking his sticky notes out of his backpack and getting a pen to write with. He stared at the notes, back at the graffiti, and then back at the notes. He bit his lip, thinking about what to write. It was the first time he hadn’t been able to start writing right away, since he had just scribbled some thoughtless words until then.

He inhaled deeply and started writing carefully, more neatly than usual. He finished scribbling and held his pen between his teeth as he ripped the note away from the pack and put it on the wall. His hand slid down the graffiti, tracing the figure of the boy.

The blonde boy hesitated before taking out his phone and snapping the camera. He still wanted to have a picture of every part of the process, even if the graffiti had become unsettling.

Was the artist alright?

Were they sad or something?

Did something happen to them?

Would Hide be able to do something? Anything?

Chapter Text

Hide leaned against the window, looking down at the streets of Tokyo.

“Hey, Seidou-san…” he whispered thoughtfully.

“Hm?” the office worker answered from behind him.

“Have you ever been worried about someone you don’t know at all?” the blonde asked.

His senior hummed in thought, looking at the papers on his desk.

“What, like a celebrity?” the older man questioned.

“No, that’s not it.” He shook his head before turning to his superior. And then a thought dawned on him. “Wait, maybe they are a celebrity. I mean, since they’re so amazing.”

Seidou turned around on his office chair to face the boy, handing out a thin stack of papers.

“Yeah, cool. Can you copy these files for me?” he deadpanned.

“But it’s not like that, Seidou-san.” The blonde ignored him, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes in thought. “It’s like, you don’t know their gender, or their age, or their name, or their appearance, or their identity. Literally nothing. But you’re still extremely worried about them.”

“I need five copies, errand boy.” Seidou tried again, but to no avail.

“I mean I have no idea who they are but they seemed to be feeling so blue… Not like I can tell just by a bunch of colored lines on a wall but, I mean, they seemed so sad? Like I really wanna help them, but I don’t know what to do…” Hide rambled, gesturing widely. “What do you think?”

“I think that you should get back to work,” the other man stated with a stern expression. He was starting to get irritated, but Hide acted as if he hadn’t noticed.

“Seidou-san, I’m asking for serious advice here.”

The brunette’s frown deepened and he stood up briskly. He walked from his cubicle to where Hide was standing, obviously trying to tower over the younger boy. He wasn’t more than a couple of centimeters taller than him though, so it didn’t have much effect. A for effort, Seidou-san. Hide had to fight the urge to pat the other’s head.

“And I’m telling you to listen to me and do what I ask of you. You’re at work, talk about this to someone else. I don’t even know what you’re saying anyway, so really, get to work. Right. Now.”

“But Nishio-san won’t stop saying I’m annoying…” the blonde whined, pouting.

“Because you are. Now get back to work.”

“But I’m so worried, and I just wanted some advice from a successful young adult like you…”

Seidou paused.

“Excuse me?” he asked, tone rising a little hopefully, and he perked up slightly. Then, squinting suspiciously: “Are you mocking me?”

“I’m not, I’m not! You’re far more reliable than lots of the people here!” Hide beamed cheerfully.

“Just copy the files,” Seidou commanded, extending the papers and looking away, his cheeks a little red. His superior was starting to feel flattered—score.

“But, Seidou-san...” The blonde pouted, and the other rolled his eyes.

“Do it now, errand boy.”

“Name’s Nagachika, by the way.”

“Yeah yeah,” Seidou said, waving a dismissive hand and getting back to his desk.

Hide sighed and turned around, heading towards the hallway. He might have been acting as silly as usual, but he was still really worried about the graffiti he had seen a few hours ago. He couldn’t stop wondering if what he had written on the note was out of place, or if it would scare the artist away.

But, did they even read the notes? Sure, they had disappeared overnight, but he didn’t have any proof it was the artist who had seen them.

He had gotten really emotionally invested in that person in such a short amount of time, so he couldn’t help but wonder if all of that was pointless. If it wasn’t like that, how else would he be able to reach out to them? Were there any other methods he could use?

“Ugh,” the blonde grunted as he bumped his side against the sharp angle of a desk.

If he kept going around that distracted he would seriously end up getting hurt in some way, but he didn’t think he could help it at all.

Hide didn’t remember ever being so worried over something that would seem so mundane to any other person. Seidou was the first example of that. Did he really have a reason to fret like that?

“Ow!” he yelled as he tripped on his own feet and slammed against the door.

Fucking incredible.

Kaneki scribbled thoughtlessly on his sketchbook, idly letting the pencil do its own thing while he stared blankly at the paper. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply before dropping his head and letting it knock against the flat surface of the table.

He was so tired. So tired.

Kaneki was used to sleep deprivation but he basically hadn’t had more than thirty minutes of uneasy attempts at napping in more than two days. And he had to add the emotional exhaustion too. He grunted quietly and moved his head left and right, rubbing his head against the table.

The brunette flinched when the door opened suddenly and he straightened up so quickly he immediately felt dizzy. He pushed his bangs away from his face and squinted, looking at his aunt peeking from the hallway with an unsurprisingly judgmental expression.

“We’re leaving to eat outside tonight. You can have some of the leftovers from yesterday. Don’t touch anything else,” she said flatly before closing the door.

“Ah, okay…” Kaneki spoke to the closed door, letting his face drop against the table again.

He heard the sound of the front door opening and closing and muffled voices slowly fading away, and he sighed. He hated feeling lonely whenever his “family” left to do something without him, especially since he didn’t enjoy spending time with them at all, but he still couldn’t help it.

The black-haired boy sighed again and reached out for his phone. He squinted at the glowing screen, trying to make out the time to check how much he would have to wait until it was safe enough to go out and paint.

Ah, he had gotten a text from Touka, but he really didn’t feel like checking it at the moment. He could only hope she wouldn’t scold him for answering late. He set an alarm for 1:30AM and closed his eyes, allowing himself a short nap.

He was tired, after all.

Kaneki dragged his feet as he walked, hunching as usual. He yawned, still drowsy from his frankly uncomfortable nap.

His pace was slow and he wasn’t walking in a rush, unlike the other nights. To be quite honest, he was kind of afraid of the sticky note person’s reaction to his latest addition to the graffiti. It had been sudden, dark and strange. Well, it wasn’t strange to him, but maybe that person had been put off… Maybe they wouldn’t write more notes…

Maybe he had screwed it up.

Kaneki’s step came to a halt and he ran a hand through his dark hair, ruffling it. He had started that graffiti for himself, so when and how had it become something about that mysterious person? Why did it feel like it was something they both shared? That person had done nothing but give him a little bit of feedback, so why did Kaneki feel such a strong connection to them?

Did he really get emotionally attached to a person he knew absolutely nothing about?

How stupid could he get?

The black-haired boy shook his head and started heading towards the alleyway he was using to paint. He was close already, and every time he took a step he could feel his heartbeat speed up. He was so nervous, so so nervous. What if he didn’t find any notes? What if the note was there but the person behind them had written something mean? What if they had hated it?

Kaneki clutched his bag strap as he approached the alleyway, and he closed his eyes right before making a turn on the corner.

He breathed in.

He breathed out.

The boy opened his eyes, took two long steps forward and turned to face the wall. He ignored the graffiti itself, honestly not wanting to look at it more than he needed to, but his breath hitched when his eyes zeroed in a little patch of yellow on the wall.

He stepped forward hurriedly and tore the note away from the wall, reading it swiftly, his heart beating a mile per hour.

i s2g ur art style is gonna kill me one of these days, like how do u go from drawing so softly to giving such a creepy vibe i cant believe it, share some of ur talent before it gets unfair!! (｀Д´)

Kaneki sighed in relief and clutched the note, closing his eyes and bringing it to his chest. They hadn’t thought anything weird. They were still enjoying his art. It was fine.

When he opened his eyes to reread the note he realized something was different. There was another note he hadn’t noticed before stuck to the back of the first one. He ripped it off, looking at it curiously. It had words too, but this time the handwriting was neater and less sloppy, albeit still kind of messy, and the words were written properly without being abbreviated. Still no capitalization though.

this might seem like i’m butting in, but are you alright? we don’t really know eachother, but take care!! i really like your graffiti and you, so don’t go making me worried!!

Kaneki stared blankly at the note, and he blinked. He reread it once, twice, three times.

“How…? Why…?” he whispered to the note.

How? How had they noticed? How was that even possible? How had they seen through him so easily when they hadn’t even met?

Why? Why did they care? Why did they worry? Why were they so good to him?

Tears started pooling at his eyes, and Kaneki let them stream down his cheeks. He brought the note to his lips and closed his eyes, sobbing quietly.

He was so moved. So moved. No one ever really noticed when something was going on with him so the fact that this complete stranger had realized he wasn’t feeling well just with seeing his graffiti was something that couldn’t even get in his head.

Kaneki stood at the alleyway for who knows how long, clutching the note and crying silently. He never knew it until then, but he had always needed someone like that person. He had people with him, but this person seemed so special, not only because of the strange—but real, so incredibly real—relationship they had but because of the big enigma they represented. They just popped in one day with a dumb sticky note on a wall and since then they had done nothing but make Kaneki feel better about both his graffiti and himself.

Who are you?, he found himself thinking for the umpteenth time that week.

The black-haired boy just stood there and cried, let his tears naturally run out until he was able to look at the note again and just smile.

He needed to repay this person in some way. He couldn’t just leave their relationship with that kind of one-sided contact.

He fished at the bottom of his back until he found one of the permanent markers that he used to trace some of the lines that he couldn’t get right and he put it in his hoodie pocket. He would use it after he finished painting.

Kaneki reread the notes once again and smiled to himself, folding them neatly and putting them on his pocket.

Hide yawned and walked at an uncharacteristically slow pace, sighing. He was so sleepy. So sleepy. Hide wasn’t a boy who could just get four—or even less, though the thought of that was terrifying—hours of sleep and carry on with his day like nothing. If he didn’t get his eight hours as a minimum he barely felt alive when he woke up.

And what had he managed to get that night, you ask? Four hours. Four sad hours. That was half of what he was used to. What his body was used to. He couldn’t do it, he wasn’t alive.

“Ah,” he gasped dramatically as he leaned against a window display next to him. “So this is how it ends for me… I couldn’t even write a book before my inevitable demise…”

“Sir, what are you doing?” a middle aged man with a chubby physique and a quite funky hairstyle asked him, holding a broom. His tone was scolding, but he was wearing a wide, contagious smile that reminded Hide of the ghost of what he used to be when he was able to get sleep. The good old days…

“Window shopping,” the blonde answered in an uncharacteristically flat tone. He couldn’t muster up the energy to be enthusiastic anymore, his life was practically over.

“This is a coffee shop and you’re just leaning against the window, sir,” the man in the uniform answered in a pretty condescending tone, his smile becoming patronizing.

Hide looked at what he had previously assumed to be a window display and saw that it was actually a window that went from his chest to cover a whole floor of the building. So he basically just told the coffee shop worker that he had been window shopping for their customers’ feet and legs. Well done, Hide.

The place looked really cozy though, and it seemed like it would be a really nice place to chill out and drink some coffee. Maybe he would try it out someday. He sighed and rested his forehead against the glass, gazing at the counter and trying to make out whatever he could from outside.

Hide made a noise at the back of his throat when, out of nowhere, a pair of legs trotted right in front of his eyes. Startled, he flinched back and looked up at the person who walked in front of his sight so suddenly, but they had already paced through the establishment and reached the counter, disappearing from Hide’s view. All he had time to make out from that was a waiter uniform on a slender frame and dark hair. That had startled him… and definitely woken him up for good.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly and turned around to look at the older man.

“Oh, so it is a coffee shop,” he blurted out, not even trying to hide his confusion.

“You seem like you could use a cup of coffee. Why don’t you come in, young sir?” The waiter invited him in with an exaggerated bow.

“Ah, no,” the blonde replied, forgetting about his remorseful act and smiling politely. “I actually have somewhere to stop by and I don’t know how long it’ll take me. Don’t wanna be late to class.”

“Come another day then!” the older man said before smirking confidently and leaning forward, cupping his mouth with his free hand to whisper. “I don’t mean to brag, but our coffee is the best in the whole district. Maybe even the best in Tokyo!” he chirped.

Hide couldn’t help but chuckle at the other’s friendly behavior, and he gave him a wide and genuine smile.

“Sure!” he beamed, offering a quick wave and walking off.

People are so nice, I love nice people so much, he thought, feeling more brightened up, and he started humming a bit as his pace got faster.

But his pace slowed down again as soon as he got near the alleyway. The reason why he hadn’t been able to sleep last night was how worried he actually was about the graffiti artist.

He felt kind of anxious about what he was about to see. Maybe writing that more personal note had been a bad idea, and he couldn’t stop wondering if he was just prying in.

He didn’t really know what had been actually keeping him up; the worry or the anxiety. He had started to regret writing that note just as soon as he stuck it on the wall, so he had decided to write his usual signature silly note pointing out something about the graffiti and stick it on top of the other one in a poor attempt to hide the other one. He wasn’t sure if he wanted the artist to read it or not, so every step he took made him more and more insecure.

In the end, that strange but strong connection he had been feeling with that person was probably just one-sided. The notes always disappeared the next morning, and of course Hide wanted to believe it was because that person read them and took them, but there was also the possibility that they didn’t like them so they threw them away, or that they didn’t even read them.

Hide stopped dead in his track and slapped his own cheeks roughly with both of his hands, making a pained noise immediately afterwards.

He couldn’t do this. He was being uncharacteristically pessimistic, and he didn’t like it. One thing was his exaggerated loathing about his lack of sleep, but the other was doubting that person so much.

He wanted to trust them.

He had no idea why, but his instincts told him to trust them.

So he started running. He didn’t even bother trotting anymore, he just ran. He ran as fast as he could towards the alley, and when he got there he didn’t even care to do his little routine of jumping at the corner, just stood in front of the wall and rested his hands on his knees, panting loudly.

I’m here.

Now I just have to look up.

Look up.

Hide wiped the sweat away from his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut before straightening his spine. He only had to look. It was only opening his eyes. It was easy, and he had to do it fast, like ripping off a band aid.

So he opened his eyes and, as expected, his breath caught in his throat.

Instead of the usual small figures with a detailed background, this time they had painted the close-up of a huge face. It was the face of the boy from the previous parts of the graffiti, who was laying on a bed—probably a hospital bed, since he was wearing an oxygen mask. He had deep purple eye bags under what ended up catching his attention the most: the eyes. The right one was half lidded and looked dead, the iris dark and glassy. The left one was wide open, the iris painted with a vibrant red and the sclera completely black. Thin veins colored with the same red as the iris scattered around the left eye.

The background colors were cold and dull, contrasting with the strong reds and blacks that opposed against the pale and sickly skin of the boy. It still felt kind of creepy, but the vibe was different from the previous one. Instead of that panicked feeling that the rushed rough lines had given off, this new piece seemed slow and sad. It reminded Hide of the tired feeling that’s left after crying for hours; exhausted sadness, the silence after a violent storm.

For some reason, the feelings he got from the artist weren’t so intense this time, so it felt like they had calmed down and cheered up a bit. It seemed like they had used the graffiti less as an emotion dump and more as a story-telling media. They still seemed sad, but better.

So Hide laughed. He exhaled loudly and laughed in relief, covering his eyes with his forearm as he threw his head back, his laughter getting louder and louder, little puffs and exhales in between the cackles.

The blonde stood there and laughed like a madman until his eyes teared up and his tummy hurt. He wiped his eyes and looked at the wall, smiling fondly. So happy. This person made him so happy. No matter what they painted, they just made him so unbelievably happy.

As he looked at the wall he realized a little scribbled patch at the right of the actual graffiti, on the blank space of the wall that would hopefully be filled the next day. He tilted his head and squinted, stepping forward and leaning towards the scribble.

It was words written in what seemed like a permanent black marker. The handwriting was neat, soft and pretty.

I’m okay. Thanks to you. I appreciate it.

“Oh my god,” Hide whispered under his breath.

He reread the little message once. Twice. Three times.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh god.”

The blonde touched the wall and traced the neatly written words, his jaw dropping open and his eyes wide.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god…” he repeated like a litany, still not believing the artist had replied.

He swallowed his own lips and stepped back, bouncing on his heels. He hid his smile behind his hands and giggled before running them through his spiky hair and ruffling it.

“Oh my god,” he repeated, his voice breaking slightly.

He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe that amazing person had replied back. They hadn’t only read and appreciated all of his notes, but they also replied. They thanked him. Hide had made them feel better.

He couldn’t believe it.

He fished his phone out and took at least ten pictures of the same patch of wall, and then stepped backwards to take a picture of the actual graffiti. As he took out his sticky notes they slipped from his hands and fell to the ground, and he stared blankly at his hand.

It was shaking. He was shaking.

Hide was so happy he couldn’t stop shaking.

“Well, I’m sorry,” he said to the wall, smiling softly. “Seems like you’ll get even messier handwriting today.”

Chapter Text

“Ah, Hinami-chan,” Kaneki called. “Could you please grab your notebook while I wipe the table? It’ll only take a bit.”

The little girl looked up at him and beamed.

“Big brother!” she chirped. Kaneki smiled at her as she grabbed her notebook and drawing supplies and set them on her lap, waiting for him to wipe the table.

As the black-haired boy started wiping the flat surface with a damp cloth, he watched how the young brunette hummed and doodled on the notebook set on her lap.

“What are you drawing?”

Hinami looked up again, and a faint blush painted her cheeks as she looked away with a slightly nervous smile on her lips.

“It’s not much… I don’t really know how to draw...”

“Oh? Can I see?” Kaneki asked, tilting his head.

“Well, it’s not finished yet…” she said, holding out the notebook so he could see.

If Kaneki were to be honest, the drawing was as cute as its artist. A simple coffee shop counter background was painted with soft browns and greys. There were a bunch of animals in all tones of colors standing in a row. A grey wise-looking owl, a brown hefty ape, a black graceful dog, a white sturdy raven, and two short blue rabbits. It was obviously still unfinished—just as she had said—since there was a small patch of the paper that was still blank, waiting to be filled with more characters. It was an adorable drawing.

“That’s really good, Hinami-chan!” He complimented her, his smile widening. “Are those the people here at Anteiku?”

“Ah, yes!” She perked up, the smile coming back to her face. “I still need to finish Ayato-kun and add you! And I also want to draw Mom and me too! Oh, and Loser!”

Kaneki laughed softly and mussed the girl’s hair, giving the notebook back to her.

“Don’t forget Loser or he'll be sad,” he said in a playful tone, starting to wipe the table again. “You’re good, though.”

“Eh? At what?” she asked, her eyes wide.

“At drawing, of course.” Kaneki smiled. “You know what?” he said, leaning a bit forward and lowering his voice.

“What?” Hinami questioned, leaning forward as well, imitating the elder’s secretive behavior.

“I actually enjoy drawing myself,” he whispered.

Hinami gasped. “You do?!” She leaned forward a bit more, her eyes lighting up.

“Very much so.” The dark-haired boy chuckled before leaning back and straightening up. “And let me tell you, you have lots of potential.”

“Thanks, big brother!” The girl beamed again, setting the notebook back on the table and starting to doodle again.

Kaneki smiled back and moved on with his work, wiping the other tables as well. Ever since he had met Hinami—the little girl that Touka babysat when her mother Ryouko was busy with work—she had started calling him “big brother”. It had felt strange at first, since he had always been an only child, but as time passed he had started to think of her as a little sister as well. She was a nice and intelligent child who loved to read and ask Kaneki about complicated words, and the boy loved her company. She was an angel.

The waiter finished his work of cleaning the tables with a soft smile on his lips and walked to the counter looking around the practically empty establishment—they were opening up in 20 minutes and everything seemed in order.

As he washed the cloth he had used for cleaning he spotted movement from the corner of his eyes.

“Touka-chan.” He greeted, smiling at his coworker and friend.

The teen frowned as she shrugged her jacket on, squinting.

“You’ve been acting so chirpy lately, it’s kinda gross,” she deapanned.

“Gr-gross?” he repeated, his smile faltering.

“Or more like creepy.” Touka shrugged nonchalantly before adding: “It’s creepy because I’m used to seeing you moping around. You should keep up like this so talking to you isn’t as unpleasant as it is right now.”

The girl stepped forward to give him a light punch in the arm before turning away and heading towards the door.

Kaneki rubbed his arm and bit back his smile. Touka’s words were mean, but he knew. He knew that it was her way of showing affection. And well, she had basically just told him she wished he would stay cheery.

“Have a good day at school.”

Touka turned to look at him and nodded.

“You take care of Hinami while I’m there.”

“Roger.”

The dark-haired boy waved until he saw his friend walking out of the door, and then he turned around. The only other person at the counter at that moment was Irimi, who was cleaning some cups.

“Can I help with something else?” he asked his coworker.

“It should be fine until we open up. You can go sit with Hinami on the meantime.” The woman responded with a gentle grin.

He smiled back and went over to where the little brunette was sitting. They exchanged a look and a smile as a greeting and he sat next to her, watching her draw. A comfortable silence fell between them as he watched her colored pencils swipe across the paper.

It was quite cathartic.

Kaneki had spent his whole night fretting over the message he had left, so he felt really sleepy at the moment. Just as he started feeling his eyelids dropping, Hinami broke the silence.

“Big sister is right. You look more cheerful lately.”

“Do I really?” Kaneki asked quietly, absentmindedly fiddling with the hem of his uniform.

Hinami set her pencil down on the table and set her gaze on him, a playful glint on her eyes.

“Did something good happen?”

Kaneki’s eyes widened as his mind started filling itself with yellow sticky notes and messy handwriting.

I really like your graffiti and you, so don’t go making me worried!!

‘And you’. They liked his graffiti and him.

Kaneki gulped and scratched his chin, feeling his face starting to heat up.

“Uh, not really?” he lied, trying really hard not to let a goofy grin overtake his features.

“Hmm…” Hinami hummed thoughtfully before thankfully changing the subject. “Do you want to draw with me?”

Kaneki smiled softy and nodded, scooting over closer to her notebook and picking up one of the pencils thrown on the table, his thoughts still astray on those words he had read over and over until he had memorized them by heart.

“Kimi-san!” Hide called out, strolling over towards the bench where the pretty upperclassman was sitting.

The girl looked up from her phone screen and smiled, bowing her head lightly.

“Good morning,” she greeted.

“You look prettier than ever today.” Hide winked, making Kimi snort out an incredulous laugh. He laughed with her. “Don’t look at me like that. I know you’re taken, don’t worry.”

“I don’t,” she answered immediately with a condescending grin.

“Hey!” The blond shot back, mildly offended. “I could totally get you if I tried.”

“Sure you could.”

“But I am a gentleman and I won’t go after another man’s woman.”

“I know, I know. That’s so considerate of you,” Kimi said, smile growing as she went back to tapping her phone screen.

Hide huffed and crossed his arms, feeling like he was being made fun of. He could totally woo anyone if he really did try, he just wasn’t interested in anyone particularly.

Well, he was interested in someone in particular, but flirting with them seemed kind of unpractical at that point. Plus, the chances were too small.

Right. The chances were small, but they were still there.

I’m okay. Thanks to you. I appreciate it.

‘Thanks to you’. They were okay thanks to him. They appreciated his concern.

Hide bit his lip as he felt his chest warm up considerably. He still felt like yelling in glee, but he had to keep his chill aesthetic.

“Oh my god, why are you grinning like that?” Kimi asked, sounding kind of skeptical.

“I’m not grinning,” Hide retorted, grinning widely.

“Were you thinking about someone who you actually want to woo? Who did you meet now?” The girl said, setting her phone aside and leaning forward with a curious glint on her eyes.

“So you only show interest when it’s about gossiping? I’m wounded, Kimi-san. You wound me,” he wailed, setting a hand to his chest and shaking his head.

“Don’t dodge the subject!” she accused. ”Who is it? Do I know them? Are they cute? Are they hot?”

Hide’s smile faltered a bit, and he scratched the back of his neck, averting his eyes.

“Does it really matter?” the blond mumbled.

“Ah, well, not really,” Kimi responded, looking a bit taken aback by the other’s sudden change of behavior. “It’s okay if you don’t wanna tell me about them, sorry.”

Hide smiled apologetically. He wasn’t mad at Kimi or anything, he had no reason to be. Her words had just tickled him, and he hadn’t meant for her to feel like she was prying in.

“It’s okay. It’s not like I know much about them either, y’know? So I don’t think any of that matters as long as I can get to know a bit more about them. And well, as long as they’re happy I guess? I really don’t know much at all, and to be honest I do feel affection but at the point we’re—wait not us, it’s not like we’re really a collective or two people you could group together but, um, at the point I’m at right now it’s like, well it should be? I mean. Everything should be—is completely platonic. Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“You done?” She tilted her head.

“I don’t know? Feel free to stop my rambling. Actually, please stop me.”

“Will do. It seems like you could go on for hours.”

“I probably could. I’m very confused.”

“You do seem like it. And I’ve got class.”

“I’ve got class too.” Hide cleared his throat.

Kimi smiled fondly and stood up to slap his back encouragingly—and painfully.

“Well, good luck, young one! You can do it!”

“Young one?” Hide repeated her words, smiling once again. “We’re only a couple of years apart in age, Kimi-san.”

“Still! You give off the ‘little brother’ vibe. Like I gotta protect you.”

“Oh my god, let’s both just go.”

Kimi laughed and nodded, turning around to gather her bags and waving at him. He waved back until she started walking away. The blond dropped his hand and sighed. His gaze fixated on his feet and he smiled softly.

Hide actually did care about what Kimi had asked. He wanted to know who they were, their name, their appearance… He wanted to hear their voice, to learn about their quirks and habits, their body language, their everything. He wanted to know everything.

But he couldn’t.

The blond stopped dead in his track and ran a hand through his own hair, ruffling it. He had just made progress for the first time, and he didn’t want to fill his head with expectations he couldn’t really accomplish. That was just plain depressing, and he still wanted to celebrate that morning’s events.

And in the end, it really didn’t matter.

He did want to know more about the graffiti artist, but that was a slow process he was starting to work on just then. And that was just a secondary matter to him.

As long as they’re happy I’m happy.

It was that simple.

Kaneki lay on his bed, holding the note up and looking at it, rereading it for the umpteenth time.

"They like me," he muttered to himself. "It's fine. Stop fretting."

But they don't really know me, do they.

Kaneki inhaled sharply and threw an arm across his face, covering his eyes.

If they did, they wouldn't tell me the stuff they do.

The black-haired boy whined and rolled on his side, curling up into a fetal position.

If they ever got to know me they would be thrown aback by my personality. They would run away.

He clenched his fist around the note and brought it against his chest, up above his heart.

Maybe replying had been a mistake. Maybe they would get seriously creeped out. Maybe they will stop writing the notes.

Kaneki stood up suddenly and slapped both sides of his face roughly, keeping the hands there and squishing his own cheeks.  He breathed deeply.

No. Stop this train of thought. They have said it clearly.

"They like me."

The boy got up and grabbed his painting supplies.

omg hi!! hiii!!! thanks so much for replying u are the coolest i luv ur graffiti so much, this latest one has so much impact like it struck me breathless its so n i ce omgg thanks for sharing it take care ( ´∀｀)ノ ~

Kaneki chuckled as he—as per usual—reread the note several times.

It was amazing, to be honest. The whole situation amazed him.

He had been sulking and being his usual insecure self at home not too long ago, but as soon as he had arrived to the alleyway and seen the note, his worries had immediately faded away.

It was starting to feel like a routine. He went over and painted, the next day he found a note. He would spend the whole day fretting and worrying until he came to the alleyway, finding another note that would ease him. It felt like they were a switch that relieved him of all his stress and worries temporarily.

Kaneki sighed and stretched his stiff back. He kneeled down to grab a spray can and approached the wall.

That night, Kaneki had a smile pasted on his face during the whole process of painting.

Hide stood in front of the alleyway wall with his eyes closed and a goofy grin.

“Here I go~”

The blond opened his eyes and a bumble of excited noises escaped his throat.

Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.

That time the graffiti was completely different. The setting was a counter of what seemed like a coffee shop. The background was so incredibly warm, all soft and comforting browns, giving off a relaxing, purging vibe. The shelves were full of very detailed pots and supplies that didn’t leave any empty space, creating a really cozy atmosphere.

The artist had painted several figures instead of just two. There were two behind the counter, a grown old man and a middle-aged one that looked oddly familiar. At the center of the composition there were three people. A really pretty girl with short dark hair and a stoic expression was standing with a tray on her hands. Then, sitting at a table there was a little brunette girl writing on a notebook and looking up at the black-haired boy of the previous graffiti, who was wearing a waiter uniform and a medical eyepatch on his left eye. His skin was colored darker, and his dark circles had disappeared, an easy-going smile overtaking his features.

The whole drawing gave off a really relaxed and content atmosphere. Those people seemed happy and comfortable, and Hide could actually sense what they were feeling. A sensation of second-hand safety and content happiness settled on his chest, warming his very being to the tip of his toes. He truly felt like he was sitting at the coffee shop, looking at them work from afar.

After admiring the graffiti itself to the tiniest detail, his eyes darted to the blank space waiting to be filled, trying not to be too expectant and failing miserably at it.

Which was fine, because he immediately spotted a little patch of written letters. He basically leaped forward to the wall, and his eyes latched on the neat handwriting.

Thank you for sticking around. Your notes make me really happy.

Hide’s smile widened so much he actually felt like his face would split in half. He traced his hand over the words and giggled quite loudly. His heart was beating really hard.

He made them happy. Well, his notes made them happy. But he wrote those which meant that he made them happy.

Hide gave a certain amount of joy to the artist.

He had probably made them smile.

He had made them happy.

His dumb notes had made them happy.

Hide made them happy.

Not only happy, but really happy. He made them really happy.

His mind kept repeating that fact over and over again as he looked at the graffiti again. His eyes zeroed in the boy with the eyepatch, and he tilted his head.

He was probably very wrong to just assume it like that, but he couldn’t help but picture the artist as that character—who was, you know, pretty cute.

The blond shook his head roughly, silently telling himself to not make any assumptions. He fished out his phone to take pictures of both the graffiti and the message before searching for his sticky notes.

All he had to do was give his daily feedback and interact with them in the only way he knew.

Kaneki hummed quietly as he unbuttoned his uniform vest, the soft smile he had been wearing since the previous night still present on his features.

“Are you shitting me?!” Nishio snapped behind him, his voice loud and frankly too near to his ear to be comfortable.

“Wha—” The dark haired boy turned and flinched when he saw how near his upperclassman had gotten and how angry he looked. “What have I done now?” He asked, a bit exasperated already.

“You’re being creepy.”

Kaneki pouted and looked to the ground.

“Is me being a bit cheery that creepy?” He asked in a tiny voice.

“Yes,” the bespectacled man answered immediately. “But that’s not what I meant now.”

Kaneki sighed and looked at the older man, expecting further explanation.

“There’s this guy at the committee that’s always like super happy-go-lucky and shit—it’s honestly really annoying, for real—but lately he has been so much weirder than usual and the other day he crashed face first into a light post and then you crashed against the door frame at work.”

Kaneki tilted his head. “And?”

“Well, that moronic shit tosser—”

“What?”

“—was humming super obnoxiously just this morning. And now you’re doing the same again.” Nishio finished, setting his hands on his hips and pointedly looking at him.

“And how is that creepy? It just seems like a coincidence to me.”

“You guys just started to get weird mood swings at the same time. You’re like synced. It’s creepy as fuck.”

“Well, I—”

“Maybe you know eachother?” Nishio interrupted. “I mean, he goes to Kamii as well.”

Well, I kind of don’t talk to anyone there, Kaneki thought.

“But I take night classes. Our schedules are probably incompatible,” the dark-haired boy reasoned, to no avail.

“Nagachika, y’know? Shitty headphones, baby face, stupid spiky blond hair. Super hyper. Too hyper.”

“Okay.”

“Stop him.”

“I don’t know him.”

“You sure?" the brunette asked.

“I’m pretty sure I only know you guys.” Kaneki shrugged.

They both stood in silence and stared at each other until Nishio grumbled something unintelligible and headed off to work his hours.

Kaneki stared as his upperclassman walked away from the staff room. That had been… strangely unsettling.

But it would take more than that to ruin his mood. At least that’s what he told himself as he finished changing and headed off to his classes.

“And then—” Hide chirped loudly. “And then they said—well, wrote—that I made them happy!”

His coworkers stared at him with looks that went from confusion to plain boredom.

“Wait, I think I got lost midway. Who said—I mean, wrote—what?” Amon stammered confusedly.

“I literally don’t care about any of that, Nagachika,” Akira deadpanned, giving him a bored look.

“More importantly,” Seidou started, “why are you always slacking off? Like, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you working.”

Hide gasped dramatically. “That’s not true!” he shot back, offended.

“It really is.” Akira responded immediately with her signature neutral expression.

“Lies and slander,” the blond accused.

“Everyone, calm down,” Amon spoke up sternly before turning towards Hide. "Nagachika, do you need our help for something or do you just want to confide?"

The blond scratched his cheek and avoided eye contact with his superior.

"Probably the latter one."

"Then please don't do it during work hours. It can get distracting."

Hide nodded and looked to the ground, biting back the grin that kept overtaking his features every time his mind went back to the artist’s message.

He didn't need anyone to confide in, and getting rejected by his coworkers wouldn't ruin his mood.

omg dude this has to be my fave one so far it makes me feel so cozy inside anD THANK U IM GLAD UR ART IS THE ONE THAT MAKES ME HAPPY (≧◡≦)

Kaneki traced the scribbled words and wondered if they were really going to draw an emoticon after every single note.

The thought made him chuckle, and it put a dorky grin on his face during the whole painting process.

Hide titled his head as he stared at the graffiti. He really couldn't explain why, but it felt to him like he was reading a manga, but without the dialogue and the solid scenes.

So far the graffiti had been following a continued plot. The artist had been clearly narrating the story of the black-haired boy who went on a date that ended up really badly and gave him some strange condition on his eye. And he covered it with an eyepatch and started working at a coffee shop, apparently.

Said boy sat on the floor of what seemed like a deluxe restaurant, wearing a tuxedo and covered in blood. His eyes appeared heterochromatic again, one grey and the other red and black. Those eyes were staring up with fear at a tall figure wearing a rather extravagant suit, also covered in blood. The man in the suit had purple hair and was opening his arms in an inviting gesture.

It was painted as beautifully as always. The blacks and whites of the scenery and the boy's outfit contrasted with the intense crimson of the blood and the vivid colors of the other man's hair and suit. It gave off a crude atmosphere, and he could feel the desperation that the boy in the graffiti was feeling.

But he still didn't really understand the story. It didn't bother him at first, since it was easy enough to understand what was going on, but at the point he was he really couldn't tell what was happening at all. Maybe it was just plot holes.

He shrugged to himself and took a picture of the graffiti before nearing the wall to look for his message.

I’m glad. I never thought I’d get feedback, so your notes are always a pleasant surprise.

Hide smiled fondly. They were starting to get wordier with their replies, which was probably a sign of them getting more comfortable with interacting with him.

He could feel it. Their dynamics were starting to become a solid routine, and he loved it.

that means im ur #1 fan ten!! interacting w/ u is so much fun so im glad!!! PS: what do u base ur graffiti on btw like is it a story u make up or?  (゜-゜)

Kaneki stared at the sticky note on his hand and wondered.

Some time had happened since Kaneki started receiving those notes, and he could say he was getting comfortable with talking to the other person. Interacting with people had always been hard for him, especially when they were completete strangers, but he really felt safe and connected with his recently self-proclaimed number one fan—a title that made Kaneki giggle and feel really warm inside.

If he was honest with himself, that alleyway felt more like a home to him than his own place, and not because he frequented it. It was all because coming there meant finding a new note from that person, and it made him feel like he was coming home.

He wondered if they were friends. Neither of them knew anything about the other, but it felt like they were friends.

After all, he couldn’t remember how he got by on the days before he started receiving the notes. His life seemed so dull before this person stepped into his life, even if it had only been about a week.

The black-haired boy wondered when this person had started being a part of his routine, and more importantly, the one that he looked forward to the most.

It was strange, it felt foreign and kind of unreal, but it wasn’t bad at all.

Kaneki smiled as he folded the note carefully and stowed it in his pocket.

Chapter Text

Hide scratched the nape of his neck as he gazed at the painted wall.

The same boy as always appeared hunched over. He was wearing a black hoodie and a strange mask that covered his face completely except his left eye, which was wide open. Tears were leaking out of the black and red eye, mixing with the rain coating the boy’s body. The mask had an open zipper at the mouth, and it was leaking blood. Behind his figure, four big red appendages pointed forward, shielding his sides. His face and clothes were muddy.

He looked in pain. Hide swallowed down the lump that was starting to form in his throat.

That artist was so amazing. They were so amazing. The way they managed to convey such strong emotions and make them so real and intense that Hide felt them himself was basically unbelievable. The boy’s desperation and sorrow, he could feel them all, and they struck him breathless.

And he had to add the way of painting. It seemed like they had used a marker to make the raindrops and tears, adding so much detail to the composition. The colors were dark—it seemed to be night time and it was clouded—but the strange appendages coming out of the boy’s back were such a bright and alive red, it seemed like they were glowing. It was the same with the dark eye, full of tears that added brightness in the graffiti. And that was what made the boy’s emotions so much more intense, the fact that even if they were full of desperation, his eyes looked so alive and tangible.

Hide breathed deeply and smiled in disbelief, running a hand through his hair. This artist was way too amazing, it wasn’t fair.

The blond ruffled his hair and skipped towards the unpainted patch of wall, expecting to see his daily message there. He was pleasantly surprised by the length of it, since the first time they had replied it had only been three short sentences. They were making progress.

You’re probably my only fan, but thank you. You’re fun to talk to as well. And I base my graffiti in a series of dreams I’ve been having, though putting them in an order is hard, so I guess it doesn’t make much sense to you.

“Aahh…” Hide hummed in acknowledgement. “That does makes sense.”

But it was also quite concerning. Not all of them were like that, but most of the graffiti they painted was… really dark. Really really dark.

Were those really just dreams? Because to Hide they seemed like really bad nightmares.

Things had been going well for Kaneki. Unexpectedly well.

Work had been going smoothly, no problematic customers. He hadn’t had problems talking to his coworkers either. His classes had been kind of slow, but still interesting and not too hard. His aunt hadn’t been giving him too much troubles and, well.

Well.

There were also the interactions he was having with the sticky notes person. He had been opening up more and more, and surprisingly, it wasn’t frightening. He really felt like he could trust them.

Things had really been going well, and that was precisely why Kaneki felt afraid.

Things didn’t normally go well for him. Every time he had felt comfortable with his life, every time he had felt satisfied or just mildly happy, it had all taken a turn to the worst in no time. He didn’t like getting hopeful or optimistic, because then the fall hurt even more.

He had been feeling good those past days, but also wary. He really didn’t want to get too comfortable with his situation, because after that there would only be room for disappointment.

Things had been going well for Kaneki, and that made him more anxious than anything.

words cant express how much i love this tbh. i can feel everything hes feeling just bc of how detailed and plain awesomely painted this is. ur so amazing. PS: thats p cool! hope it helps or smth!! (ﾟ∀ﾟ)

Kaneki scratched his neck, his cheeks reddening slightly.

“I’m not amazing,” he mumbled grumpily to the note. “You wouldn’t think like that if you actually knew me.”

He reread the scribbled words again and grumbled loudly. They hoped it helped? What, drawing the nightmares? But Kaneki hadn’t told them the dreams were nightmares, so did they figure it out? No, assuming they had figured out that Kaneki painted those nightmares as a way to cope with them was too much in the first place.

But hadn’t they figured out Kaneki was feeling bad some days ago already? They really seemed perceptive enough for that.

So it was safe to assume that they had seen through him once again.

You’re the amazing one.

Hide stared blankly at the words on the wall. That response felt short. And dry. And kind of self-loathing. It seemed to say that the artist didn’t think of themselves as amazing at all, and the blond hated that.

He pursed his lips and looked back at the graffiti.

It was so… visceral. The same coffee shop from three nights before was painted, but that time it didn’t give off a warm and comforting aura. It would’ve probably been like that if it wasn’t for the fact that it was completely covered in blood. And it wasn’t like the graffiti of the restaurant, where the blood was probably from someone else. In this one, Hide was sure that the blood came from the black-haired boy, who was strewn on the floor, his uniform ripped and bloody and his arms bent in a strange way. The rest of the coffee shop was completely destroyed, the counter bloody and the chairs and tables broken.

From the angle in which the graffiti was painted, Hide could only see the boy’s figure clearly, but there were other figures. For example, the slender frame of a waitress, sitting down and leaning her limp body against the counter. There were people standing, but he could only see their feet. One of them was wearing leather boots, and they seemed pretty short. Another one was wearing heeled boots with floral patterns, and they were standing far back. The last one was standing in front of the listless body of the boy, and they were big. They wore a white suit, and one of their feet was stepping on the black-haired’s ribs.

Hide frowned in concern and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Just what am I gonna do with you?” he whispered to the wall.

“So,” Akira started with a mouthful of cup noodles. “Let me get this straight.”

Hide nodded eagerly as Seidou rolled his eyes, mumbling something along the lines of ‘I can’t believe I’m wasting my break like this.’ Akira swallowed her bite of noodles before going on.

“One day you were walking across an alleyway that had a really eye-catching graffiti painted on its wall. The next day you took the same path and a continuation of the graffiti had been drawn.” She pointed at the blond with her chopsticks, and he nodded once again. “So you decided to leave a sticky note with a message, and then they started replying.”

“Yes.”

“And then you fell in love.”

“Wait, no,” Hide shot back, shaking his head.

Seidou scoffed and took a sip of his canned tea before speaking. “Yeah you did.”

“Wha—? No I didn’t!”

“You really do sound like a young maiden in love, messenger,” the older man teased with a condescending grin.

“Okay, no, just no. And my name is Nagachika, please learn it already!”

“Takizawa’s right,” Akira said with a bored look, digging her chopsticks in her cup of noodles. “You sound lovestruck.”

“No, I—” Hide grumbled and ran a hand through his hair, averting his eyes. He breathed deeply and looked back up at his coworkers. “I’m just amazed by them, alright? I do feel affection towards them, just... assuming it’s love is too much.”

“What will you do if they turn out to be a man?” Akira asked, her expression neutral.

“What do you mean what will I do?”

“I mean, since you want to date them.” She clarified.

“I don’t—That’s not the point though? I don’t care if they’re male or female, I don’t feel drawn to this person because of their genitalia. I love their personality and talent and way of being.”

Akira raised an eyebrow, the corners of her lips lifting up. Hide then realized what he had said. She was sly.

“I mean—”

“So you are in love.”

“I didn’t say—”

“You feel drawn to them?” Seidou joined in with an incredulous scoff.

“Listen, I—”

“I would’ve never thought you swing that way though, Nagachika,” Seidou said, resting his chin on the palm of his hand. “I mean, you’re always flirting with the ladies at the reception.”

“No, I don’t swing any particular way, it’s just the person that’s — Wait, you remembered my name!” Hide’s face lit up and he leaned over the table, entering Seidou’s personal space. The brunette shooed him away.

“So,” Akira started, catching the blond’s attention once again, “we have arrived to the conclusion that you’re hopelessly in love with a stranger.” She raised her hand just as Hide opened his mouth to retort, effectively making him go quiet again. “But what do you want from us now?”

“W-well.” Hide scratched his cheek and looked away. “I kinda expected some advice.”

“Why from us?” Seidou asked, tone coated with sarcasm as he added: “Because we’re successful young adults?”

“No, because you’re together,” the blond stated idly, playing with his own cup of noodles.

The room fell completely silent. Hide stared in confusion as Akira dropped her chopsticks on the table and Seidou stared back with his jaw completely open in shock. When the older man’s cheeks started reddening and he looked like he had stopped breathing, Hide spoke again.

“Oh, you’re not?”

Akira coughed and Seidou banged his fists against the table, looking as if he was about to faint.

“Of course we’re not!” he croaked out in a strained voice.

“Takizawa and I are just coworkers.” Akira’s usually levelheaded voice seemed a bit forced when she spoke. “I don’t know why you’d assume something like that. Please stop that.”

Hide smirked and looked at his seniors with a quite cocky expression.

“Then I don’t know why you’d assume that I’m in love with that graffiti artist.” He crossed his arms and his smile widened. “Please stop that.”

“Hey,” the woman called in a stern tone. “You’re too quiet.”

Kaneki peeked up at his aunt before nervously averting his eyes again. He could feel her judgmental gaze, and he felt incredibly tense.

“Sorry,” he apologized, hoping she would hop off his back just with that.

“Yeah, you should be sorry,” she shot back. “You’re making this uncomfortable for all of us.”

Kaneki folded his hands on his lap, fiddling with the fabric of his pants.

“S-sorry.”

“Don’t you know how to say anything else?” his cousin asked, chewing his food loudly.

The black-haired boy clutched his pants and hunched his shoulders.

“Yuuichi, don’t talk with your mouth full,” his uncle commanded.

His cousin scoffed and shot a hostile look at Kaneki, who pursed his lips and looked down at the hands gripping his pants.

He was so uncomfortable. He felt so out of place.

He honestly didn’t understand the way his family behaved. Sometimes they treated him like he was invisible, like he was nothing at all, he just got blatanly ignored. Other times they had to make sure he understood how he was the lowest of the low. It was like they used him as their emotional punching bag, and threw everything at him, yelling and making him feel like the worst.

Those two kinds of behavior fluctuated really randomly, and that scared him. They had gone from attacking him and judging him for being quiet to talking normally as they ate, completely ignoring him.

That wasn’t his home, he didn’t feel safe at all. He never knew when their mood would change, making them lash out at him, and that gave him terrible anxiety.

His days had been kind of peaceful, he had set a good routine for a week or so, but now they were back at making him feel like crap. He really couldn’t live in such an unstable enviroment, he thought as he shook and breathed raggedly, trying to keep his breathing as quiet and discreet as he could.

Nothing new had happened, really. He had lived in this situation since his mother had died, and he was quite used to the kind of treatment he got in that house. But as used as he was to it, sometimes it just dawned on him. How miserable and pathetic he was. How much he wanted to leave that place.

He just felt like locking himself up on his room and never leaving it.

Things had been going well for Kaneki, after all. It had only been a matter of time until they went downhill again.

ofc im amazing, but u r 2!! just look @ this wall and u should realize how skillful u r. take care tho man pls feel better soon cos im p worried (;´・`)>

Kaneki clutched the note against his chest as he shook slightly. He didn’t like the bitter feeling settled in his gut. These person’s notes had never failed to make him feel better, but now he only felt like throwing up.

They keep noticing. They keep noticing. I’m worrying them. I’m so easy to read.

The dark-haired boy sucked in a shaky breath and clutched the note tighter.

I’m just worrying them like this. I need to stop.

He gasped. Those thoughts were making it hard to breathe. He felt a really heavy weight on his heart.

I should just stop replying. It’d be better this way.

Kaneki stowed the note in his pocket and grabbed a spray can, trying to work despite his uneven breathing.

Hide gulped, trying to swallow the lump forming in his throat.

The graffiti kept getting darker and darker each day, and he didn’t know what was going on anymore. The dark-haired boy was sitting on a chair, his hands and feet chained to it. He was hunching, so he couldn’t see his face. His clothes were torn and dirty, and his skin was stained with what seemed to be dry blood and dirt. His previously ebony hair had started to form some white hairs around the roots.

The boy was the center of the composition and all the surroundings were empty, the chair being the only piece of furniture in the whole room. The colors were so dead this time. All of it seemed black and white—the tiles of the floor, the boy’s hair and clothes, his pale skin—except the dried blood on his skin and on the chair.

The painting style had changed too. It was kind of… shaky. Unstable. The lines didn’t connect well at all. Other people might have thought it was sloppy, but to Hide it seemed frantic, as if the artist had been shaking while they were painting.

He pursed his lips as his eyes searched for the message the artist always left. He was so concerned, he really needed to see what they had replied with.

Hide felt his heart sink to the ground when he saw nothing on the wall. He approached it and looked up and down, looking for the reply that should’ve been there.

No. No, he couldn’t accept this. He paced through the alleyway, looking at every little patch of wall that could’ve had a message. There had to be something there. There had to be some kind of message somewhere, there was no way they had forgotten to reply.

There was no way they had forgotten to reply, so they had willingly ignored Hide’s message.

The blond walked towards the latest graffiti and dragged his palm across the wall, feeling the texture of the spray paint. The note he had left was gone, so they had definitely seen it.

Hide dipped his head and frowned. He wasn’t mad at the fact they hadn’t replied. They were surely going through some rough issues at that moment, so he couldn’t blame them at all.

But that was exactly where the problem was. They were going through really bad times, and Hide couldn’t help them, he couldn’t do anything else than what he was already doing. He was so worried it physically ached.

But he couldn’t give up on them just because of one unanswered note. Hide didn’t know why, but he had the feeling that if he stopped trying he would be giving the artist just the treatment they expected to get.

And he couldn’t have that.

He would prove them wrong.

ur art is so intense and full of emotions, ive never seen anything like it b4!! u switched styles but its still A++++ also ill keep u in my thoughts （╹ェ╹）

Kaneki closed his eyes and tried his best to ignore the feeling of guilt that was starting to form in his gut. It was for the best.

The previously black-haired boy—his hair being a shade of white so clear it almost seemed translucent—lay on a bed, curled up in fetal position. He looked small and fragile, his figure seeming more slender than usual. His expression was neutral, but a clear tinge of sadness lingered in it. He had bags under his eyes, and even if he was lying on his bed, he looked like he hadn’t rested in weeks. The graffiti was painted in black and white once again.

He looked really lonely.

Hide hugged his own stomach when he looked at the completely empty patch of wall at the right of the graffiti.

“Still no reply, huh.”

The blond couldn’t help but feel kind of lonely as well.

Kaneki sat on the floor of his bedroom, his back against the door.

He felt gross. He didn’t feel like himself. He didn’t know why he was feeling like this, since he should’ve been used to his family treating him like garbage, but he had been harboring the strangest, most uncomfortable state of mind lately, and he hated it.

Kaneki was so tired. So very tired. And not only because of lack of sleep.

He didn’t really know what had exactly happened to make him feel like that, but it just wouldn’t go away. He hadn’t felt so emotionally exhausted in a very long time.

He wanted it to go away.

The white-haired boy was standing in a field of flowers, wearing a black outfit that clung to his skin tightly. His figure was disturbingly crooked and bended at weird angles, his knees bent and his arms twisted. A sharp spear was penetrating his skull and piercing his eye. The expression was what struck Hide speechless. His face was contorted in a distressed grimace, his mouth open and seemingly letting out a pained scream.

He was suffering so much. The art was alive and Hide could feel how excruciating the pain the boy was feeling was.

The blond wondered if it was a metaphor for the emotional pain the graffiti artist was feeling. He shot an apprehensive look to his note from the previous day, still stuck on the wall, since the artist hadn’t taken it out.

They probably hadn’t even read it.

But Hide was very stubborn when he wanted to be, so he grabbed his sticky notes and started writing.

Kaneki dragged his feet as he walked, absentmindedly kicking a pebble. The boy wondered if he would see another note that night, even if he was going to ignore it again like he did with the previous one. Since then, he had felt a permanent and uncomfortable feeling of gut pooling in his stomach, but he couldn’t help it. It was the right thing to do, so he was willing to endure another distressing feeling. He was already used to it, a bit more of emotional pain couldn’t be too hard on him.

Though the one feeling more pain was probably the person who wrote him the sticky notes, since they were the ones left hanging without any kind of explanation.

Who am I trying to fool? It’s not like they cared much in the first place.

Kaneki’s hunched figure bumped against a random pedestrian, who snapped at him for not looking ahead and went on with their way. The black-haired boy mumbled an apology to the ground before moving on.

They probably haven’t even noticed. There won’t be a note there for sure.

It was amazing, how even after all they had proved to him, Kaneki still doubted them. He sure was pathetic.

And cruel.

And unfair.

Just as his aunt had said countless times lately. He was just a waste of space.

He wandered through the streets of Tokyo, trying to take a long route towards the alleyway—their alleyway. He didn’t want to get there right away. Kaneki still feared. He didn’t know what was what he feared exactly. Maybe not getting another note, maybe getting another note and having to ignore it. He was so unsure, he didn’t know what he wanted at all.

His family’s words echoed in his head.

Weak-willed.

Coward.

Worthless.

Pitiful.

A pathetic excuse for a human being.

Kaneki clutched the fabric of his hoodie over his chest, making himself as little as possible and trying to suppress the intense ache he felt all over his body.

He just had to get there, paint, and go home. He could get over it fast enough.

As he neared the alleyway, Kaneki pondered when painting his nightmares had went from a way to cope with his negativity to a burden he wanted to get over with. He sighed as he pulled his hood down to cover his teary eyes, fiddling with the fabric as a bitter smile overtook his features.

He was so lost. He couldn’t call the place he lived in a home. The alleyway that had become his home was starting to feel foreign. He didn’t know where he was supposed to go, or what he was supposed to do, but he guessed all that was in his power so far was to paint what he could.

He didn’t have anywhere where he belonged. He was all alone.

But he couldn’t stop painting. He just felt like he couldn’t. Maybe it was some sense of duty, or maybe it was just because even if he had decided to stop replying to the mysterious person, he still didn’t want to break all the ties he had with them.

Maybe he just needed an external excuse, a really good reason to stop painting. Maybe when he found that he would stop. But he couldn’t do it yet.

He was so disgusting.

So pathetic.

Useless.

Trash.

Trash.

Kaneki tried to swallow the uncomfortable lump in his throat as he turned around the corner. He didn’t want to look up at his previous works, so he just looked at the ground as he walked ahead, dragging a hand through the painted surface of the wall.

His step suddenly came to a halt.

Something was different. Something felt off.

He moved his hand to feel more of the surface of the wall, and he frowned. The texture was strange and unfamiliar.

The black-haired boy felt too scared to look up, but something was really off. He needed to check.

Kaneki breathed deeply and looked up. He hadn’t been feeling well lately, at all. Quite the contrary, he had been feeling awful. But none of that could compare to what he felt when he saw the wall.

He could swear he felt his heart drop to the ground.

The artist had been wanting an excuse to stop painting the graffiti and cut his ties with his mysterious admirer. He had seriously wished for that.

But seeing the wall he had worked on, the wall where he had met a person that had changed and moved him in so many different ways — his wall — their wall —

—seeing it painted over with a dull and plain gray color, all his graffiti and all the reminders of the messages and the notes they exchanged gone, wasn’t something he would’ve ever thought of.

Chapter Text

Hide’s bag dropped to the ground in a dull thud—and for a second Hide really thought it was the sound of his heart falling out of his chest, because he suddenly felt a huge void around said area.

Gone.

It was gone.

The graffiti, the messages, the last notes the artist hadn’t checked. Everything. Everything was gone.

Hide had to remind himself to breathe.

He had always loved bright colors. He always wore bright clothes, bright headphones. He liked dazzling flowers and shiny objects. He dyed his hair as well. Hide had never been fond of dull tones, and grey was his least favorite one.

So as he stared at the completely grey wall, he found himself despising the color more than ever.

It was dull, dead, and nothing like the graffiti artist. Their graffiti had mostly been dark, but at the same time it had been colorful, expressive and alive.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, but there was nothing he could do besides what he had already done until then.

He kneeled besides his bag and grabbed the sticky notes, taking a deep breath and thinking about the most appropriate thing to say.

Kaneki hissed in pain as a sharp fragment of the cup he had dropped and broken cut his palm. He held his wrist against his chest and stared at the several broken pieces on the ground.

“What did you do now?” Touka’s annoyed voice became louder just as her footsteps became closer.

When the younger girl stepped on a piece of the broken cup she swore loudly, and Kaneki averted his eyes, finding the wood of the counter surprisngly fascinating and worthy of being stared at.

“What’s wrong with you? Why aren’t you cleaning this?” Touka scolded, running a hand through her hair in frustration. “Hey, look at — Wait, you’re bleeding!”

The waitress kneeled down beside him, being careful with the broken fragments on the floor. She took his wrist and examined his wound. He didn’t resist, but he also didn’t say anything or look at her.

She stood up and pushed him up by the wrist—her strength was quite surprising considering her size—to drag him towards the bathroom.

“Let’s get this wound cleaned up,” she said.

Kaneki stayed silent, looking down the whole time. They got to the bathroom and Touka opened the faucet, guiding his hand under the cold water. The black-haired boy flinched.

“Is the water too cold?”

The boy shook his head slightly, and Touka grumbled. She flicked his forehead, and Kaneki flinched again, looking up this time.

“I’m pretty tired of monologuing here, y’know?” she said, frowning disapprovingly. “I didn’t ask you to read the bible to me, just say something.”

Kaneki remained silent watching as his blood mixing with water and running down the sink.

“I’m worried. Please say something.” Touka’s voice came out soft and mumbled.

He gulped and slowly looked up. He knew he was being selfish and childish, and his friend looked genuinely concerned, which made him feel bad. She hadn’t done anything wrong, yet he was just worrying her like that.

The black-haired boy smiled softly and brought his free hand to scratch his chin.

“I’m okay, you don’t have to worry.”

“But—”

“It’s okay, really,” he said, interrupting her. “I was just spaced out. I haven’t been sleeping well.”

Touka pursed her lips, clearly unconvinced, but she didn’t pry further. Kaneki appreciated that.

He really didn’t want to talk about it, after all. He just wanted to forget.

“Your mood fluctuates like a preteen girl on her first period.”

“Nishio-san…” Hide protested weakly.

“Wait.” His upperclassman paused, realization hitting him. “Are you pregnant?”

Hide had to suppress the urge to throw the box he was holding at Nishio’s head. The brunette raised an eyebrow, shooting him an incredulous look.

“If looks could kill I’m pretty sure I’d be dead right now,” he commented flatly.

Hide frowned and turned around, stocking the box on a shelf. He didn’t want to talk to Nishio. In fact, he didn’t want to talk to anyone. He just wanted to be alone for a while with his thoughts because he knew his irritability would only get worse as the day progressed and he had to interact with more people.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you show your annoyance outwardly,” Nishio remarked.

Hide hummed in acknowledgement, trying not to show how uneasy that made him feel. He had always known Nishio was sharp, but he didn’t like the fact that it was so easy to tell that he felt other emotions than those he showed to others.

“You don’t seem okay.”

Hide grit his teeth. Nishio wasn’t being snarky or aggressive, and Hide didn’t like that. He didn’t want his pity—or whatever this was—and he hated that the other had seen through him just like that.

“With all due respect,” the blond started, “it’s none of your business.”

He walked away before his elder could say anything.

Kaneki sat on the very edge of his bed, hugging his legs and hiding his face in his knees. He looked up for a second to look at the clock on his nightstand.

2AM.

Under normal circumstances he’d be leaving to paint.

A flash of grey went through his mind. He hugged his legs against his chest tighter, and he flopped down on his side in fetal position.

The black-haired boy shuffled closer to the wall and started lightly banging his forehead against it. He didn’t want to think. He didn’t want to think.

He wanted to go to sleep and don’t wake up in weeks. Maybe months. But then again, sleep meant nightmares.

He really didn’t want to think. Thinking was painful.

Hide stared at the blank wall, one single bright sticky note contrasting with the dull grey of the surface.

No reply.

No signs of life from the artist.

The blond got hit with the most intense wave of disappointment he had felt in a long time. His throat felt dry, but he sighed and grabbed his sticky notes and a pen. He wouldn’t give up. He couldn’t give up. No matter how discouraging it got, he couldn’t do it.

“Big brother?”

Kaneki jumped in his seat and his head snapped to the little girl’s general direction. She flinched at his sudden movement, and the boy immediately felt bad.

“S-sorry,” he apologized.

Hinami shook her head and smiled at him, but she still looked a bit put off.

“You seem kinda down lately…” she inquired, tilting her head and averting her eyes, a nervous smile on her face.

“I—”

“Big sister is worried.”

“I know,” Kaneki said, his voice muffled. “Are you worried too?”

Hinami bit her lower lip and nodded shyly, looking down. Kaneki sighed and ruffled her hair. He wondered what was wrong with him, constantly worrying the people who cared about him.

I wonder if the alleyway person is worried about me…

He made his fist collide against his own head. Hinami yelped and surged forward to stop him form hitting himself more.

“Forget,” he muttered under his breath.

Forget.

Forget.

“What?” Seidou questioned, looking pointedly at Hide with what seemed like… concern?

The blond sighed and rubbed his nape, averting his eyes. Confiding made him kind of uncomfortable, if he had to be honest.

“The graffiti got painted over. They’re not painting anymore and I don’t know how to contact them,” he said, his voice monotonous.

“Well, that’s probably the city hall’s doing,” Akira suggested, shrugging. “Graffiti painting is technically illegal, so they had the right to do that.”

“Mado!” the brunette called indignantly.

“That doesn’t mean I’m taking their side or anything,” she clarified. “Still sucks for you, Nagachika.”

He rested his chin on his palm and looked out of the window. He didn’t want to look at their pitying gazes.

“Yeah,” he said, “sucks for me.”

It did suck for him, but it was probably much worse for the graffiti artist. He didn’t have the right to complain.

Kaneki stared at the numbers on the digital clock, counting the seconds in his head until it switched to the next minute. He counted and counted without thinking about anything else.

Twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen…

Everything was so grey around him. It felt like he couldn’t see colors anymore.

Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two…

He heard yelling outside his bedroom door. It was his aunt.

Forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine…

She was calling his name. She was knocking on the door. He covered his ears and concentrated on the numbers.

Fifty-six, fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty.

It had just turned 3:08 AM. He could be painting.

But he wasn’t.

Hide stared blankly at the grey wall. He saw his own notes from the previous days, and the view made him feel quite empty.

It wasn’t working out. It had been more than a week, and he had set notes every single day, yet he had gotten no response. Worse than that, there weren’t any signs of life from the graffiti artist.

The blond took out his phone and stared at the digits telling him the hour. He pursed his lips and stowed his phone back in his pocket. He didn’t have time to make it at the moment, but after he came out of work he’d search.

Hide would just pace through different alleyways and look for some other sign of the same artist. Maybe they had just moved from one wall to another one, and even if it wasn’t like that, Hide needed to check.

If he didn’t find anything then, well. He’d just have to find another way.

Kaneki lightly tapped his pen against the desk. One tap per second.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap…

He rested his chin on his palm, his gaze fixated on the needle of the clock hanging on the wall.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap…

The teacher’s voice was like bugging background noise, drowned out by the sound of the clock needle ticking and his pen against the desk.

Tap, tap, tap, tap…

“Hey,” a hushed whisper on his right. Kaneki turned his head to look at the classmate he’d never spoken with. She was kind of pretty, but she looked annoyed.

“Could you please stop that?” she asked, frowning and gesturing towards his pen tapping the flat surface. “It’s really distracting.”

He nodded and set his pen down, looking down at her space of the desk. She hurriedly went back to taking notes. Kaneki found himself entranced with the movement of the pen against her notebook. The girl suddenly stopped writing, and Kaneki looked up at her, locking gazes.

“I’m not lending you my notes. Take them by yourself.”

He didn’t feel like clearing her misunderstanding, so he just nodded. His classmate huffed and went back to taking notes. Her space of the desk really was a mess, books and papers all strewn over. One of the books had a sticky note glued to the cover.

The black-haired boy rapidly looked away and rubbed his eyes. No. No.

Forget.

This feeling of guilt.

Forget it.

Hide had spent hours and hours aimlessly wandering around the streets of Tokyo, and he was starting to give up in finding any traces of the artist. There were many painted over walls to begin with—it seemed like the city hall had been doing some clearing up—but those were starting to get filled with new graffiti by the day. It was really nice to see, like a field of flowers slowly blooming after the harsh winter.

It was really nice to see, but it wasn’t what Hide wanted to see. Graffiti artists were surely skilled, but none of the ones he had seen had that special something The Graffiti Artist had.

Hide sighed and rested his weight against a wall. He was really tired, and it was getting late. He didn’t want to go home though. He wanted to do something else, anything else. All he had done until then was write some dumb notes and stick them on a wall. He needed to do more.

So he headed towards the alleyway. It was unlikely to happen, but he would wait. He would wait for the graffiti artist. He’d sit there and write notes, he’d fill the entire wall with sticky notes so that ugly and dull grey wasn’t visible anymore. He’d make the most bright-colored and obnoxiously flashy wall in the entirety of the city of Tokyo.

That way, when the artist decided to come back to the alleyway—to him—they’d have the most warm welcoming.

Because they would come back. Because Hide wasn’t giving up.

Kaneki rested his head against the wall and started knocking his forehead against it. He had been doing that a lot lately.

He had been trying so hard to disassociate himself from the guilt he felt for abandoning that person and the self-hatred that was just growing larger and larger. He had also known that once he embraced that guilt he’d also feel nostalgic, and the desire to come back to paint and read the little notes would hit him like an overwhelming wave.

He was probably too late either way. How long had it been? Two weeks? Three? Of course that person would’ve given up on him in that amount of time.

Although they had been surprising him every time, and exceeding his expectations no matter what, they really couldn’t hold on for that long, could they? There was no way they cared enough to do that.

Then why, just why was Kaneki wandering around the streets of Tokyo? Why was he nearing towards the alleyway’s direction? Moreover, why had he grabbed his painting supplies?

He grumbled and knocked his forehead against the wall again.

What am I doing? Just what am I doing? What is wrong with me?

He was way too near the alleyway he used to paint on to be comfortable, and breathing was kind of hard. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t go there. He wanted to go there so badly, but he had made up his mind, so he couldn’t go there. He couldn’t do it.

He had to leave.

He didn’t want to go home—home was asphyxiating and he had been spending way too much time there to feel okay—but he had to leave before he did something he regretted.

Hide groaned as he collided against someone and fell to the ground. He heard a pained whine from the other party—which he identified with, because ow—and he recognized the voice.

“Kimi-san,” he said.

She looked up at him and smiled apologetically.

“Sorry, I was a bit spaced out. You okay?” she asked.

Hide averted his eyes and got up slowly, crouching down again to a more comfortable position to pick up the papers scattered on the ground.

“Yeah,” he said, “I was a bit spaced out as well.”

“You do seem like it lately,” Kimi said casually as she helped him pick up the papers.

Hide paused his movements momentarily and pursed his lips before going on. Yes, he was spaced out,  but—to be fair—he wasn’t getting as much sleep at all lately. He lost many of his hours waiting in that goddamn cold-ass alleyway that was starting to make him feel lonelier and lonelier every single day.

And also kind of desperate. He didn’t know what to do anymore.

“Are you alright?” Kimi’s voice interrupted his train of thought. Hide’s head snapped up and looked at her. She was wearing a concerned frown, and the blond rapidly looked away  after locking gazes with her.

“Yeah,” he lied.

“You don’t seem—” Kimi started.

“Thanks,” he interrupted, getting up and walking away.

It had been more than a month, and Kaneki couldn’t do it anymore.

He couldn’t run away. His legs wouldn’t walk on the opposite direction.

The black-haired boy stood in the corner of the alleyway—his alleyway, their alleyway—breathing deeply and clutching the strap of his bag full of the painting supplies that had been dusting up on his room.

He needed to run away, to turn his back and flee towards the opposite direction. He had to do it, but he couldn’t. He had done this kind of thing numerous times already, leaving his house at his usual painting hours and walking towards the alleyway, just to chicken out and leave again. It wasn’t the first time he had been just standing at the corner of the alleyway and breathing, a step away from finding out if there were any sticky notes.

A step away from finding out if it was too late.

This was the time, though. He could feel it. He didn’t want to be, but he was ready to step forward and check. His heart was beating a mile per hour, but he was ready, he really was.

But, was he ready to face a completely blank wall with no notes at all?

He shook his head and breathed deeply before standing up straight, looking ahead. He could do it.

Kaneki took a step forward and closed his eyes as he turned around. He took two more steps forward, and turned to the wall. He breathed deeply again.

Breathed in.

Breathed out.

Inhaled.

Exhaled.

The black-haired boy opened his eyes slowly, and locked them on the wall.

He had to admit, he kind of had to squint his eyes. The wall was so bright it hurt his sight a bit.

Only a bit though. And that didn’t matter at all. It didn’t matter at all.

Because dozens and dozens of bright sticky notes were pasted on the wall, all of them with written messages, all of them with something special that person had to say to him. To him specifically.

There were so many of them, there was no way that person had written them all in the amount of days he hadn’t been going there. Kaneki let out an incredulous giggle, and his chest felt light, so light. It was like all the pain, all the anxiety, all the weight of self-hatred on his heart just suddenly faded away. They were really an amazing person after all, always moving him and touching him with their actions, always lightening his mood so easily like it was a joke, even after months of depression.

The black-haired boy neared the wall and started reading some of the notes randomly, picking them up and stowing them in his pocket afterwards.

this grey color is sooooo boooooooriiiiiiiiiiing and ugly ew pls come back this wall aint pretty at all without ur stuff (･｀ｪ´･)つ

im worried tbh i hope ur alright n such and even if u arent i hope u dont give up cos ur awesome and im sure itll get better for u

dude there was this stray cat that walked through this alley tonight it let me pet it it was so cute maybe ill name it (^・ω・^ )

i ate the TASTIEST cake at this coffe shop today im crying it was so good idek if id give u a bite even if u asked (シ_ _)シ

i keep u in my thoughts every day. pls be ok

the cat came back!!! how do i name it im bad w/ this stuff help me out here (^._.^)ﾉ

ive been singing backstreet boys for like half an hour alone in this alley isnt that kinda sad

i hope w/e ur going through you have someone to support you. if u dont i wouldnt mind being that person

im naming the cat celine dione like maybe its a boy cat but celine dione is a perf name u cant stop me (^=˃ᆺ˂)

fun fact about me im an only child and also im really smart and handsome (゜▽゜;)

do u even know who celine dione is have u watched the movie titanic cause u should it kinda makes u wanna pee but its a classic (*´_ゝ `)

did you know that rabbits die when they get lonely? come back soon

its cold as balls today i cant feel my fingers

i miss ur graffiti and u lots. both of u. ur like my children when will my children come back from war

celine dione is getting more affectionate lately ud probs get along with celine it purrs a lot (o^‥^)o

i seriously miss u so much

Kaneki had to stop reading for a second. The tears in his eyes didn’t really let him see clearly.

When was the last time he had cried? During all these weeks he hadn’t shed a single tear. He didn’t feel sad though. He felt full again. He felt loved.

He also felt really guilty. They had surpassed his expectations as they always had been able to. It was pointless to assume anything when that person was around him. They seemed so persistent, but the good kind of persistent.

Kaneki had made them lonely, so he needed to make it up to them in some way.

So he did the only thing he knew how to do. He finished reading and taking all of the sticky notes off the wall. The boy grabbed a spray can from his bag, and shook it as he stepped away from the now emptied wall.

He smiled to himself. They had been right, the wall looked really ugly and boring like that.

Kaneki guessed he would have to paint it over, then.

Hide yawned and scratched his head. He was trying to regain the hours of sleep he had been losing by going to the alleyway at night after work and staying there for hours. He hadn’t even been able to go the previous night, since he had really early classes and he had to stay behind to work overtime.

It wasn’t like he would really find anything new, but he still felt bad for missing a night he could’ve been there, well… feeling lonely, he guessed.

The blonde groaned and ruffled his hair roughly, trying to shoo those thoughts away. He had been working hard to keep that kind of train of thought away, but the more time passed the harder it became.

He absentmindedly kicked a pebble as he neared the alleyway, turning the corner immediately. At some point he had stopped his little ritual of waiting, breathing deeply to prepare himself and jumping suddenly to see the wall. It had become extremely disappointing.

So when he turned the corner and saw the wall he had to blink repeatedly, rub his eyes and look again.

“No way,” he whispered, his mouth agape.

An incredulous bubble of laughter escaped his throat, and he covered his mouth with both hands, jumping in the spot.

“No way!”

He was so happy he could cry.

“Oh my god! Oh my god…”

He was so happy he was actually crying. Tears started to pool in his eyes, and he tried to wipe them away because he still needed to look at this piece properly.

It was, by far, the brightest graffiti the artist had ever painted. A lone figure was standing in the middle of a sunflower field. It was painted in dark colors, making it seem basically like an androgynous shadow. The dark shades contrasted against the bright yellow of the sunflowers and the clear blue of the sky. The paint strokes of the flowers were haphazard and they seemed rushed. Somehow, Hide could imagine the artist smiling and laughing as they painted those, having so much fun with it that some of the yellow lines stained the dark figure, making it merge with its surroundings in a spontaneous yet lovely way.

Yes, it was so lovely. Just as expected, it was absolutely gorgeous. It made him feel so warm inside he actually wondered if anything else in the world had the power to make him feel such joy. As he examined the graffiti closer, he noticed a message written at the right corner.

The blond could say he stopped breathing entirely as he read the words.

Thanks for waiting for me. This is my apology gift to you. That person in there is supposed to be you, and the surroundings would be how you make me feel (sorry, I’m not very good at explaining this, but I hope it somehow gets across).

Hide covered his mouth and traced the words with his hand, smiling so big his face could split in half. He felt warm, he felt alive. That was meant for him, and he didn’t think he had ever been happier in his entire life.

He hurriedly fished for his sticky notes, but he was so excited he accidentally dropped his bag. As he hunched to pick it up he heard a shuffling noise behind him and stopped moving entirely, his eyes widening.

The blond slowly turned his head, and he almost had a heart attack when he saw a small bundle of a person curled up in a corner of the alleyway.

Whoever they were, they were wearing a black hoodie and dark jeans. They were curled up in a ball, their hooded head resting on top of their knees, which they were hugging tightly. They were holding something bright in their hands, but Hide couldn’t make out what it was at that distance.

He slowly got closer to them, walking warily. They weren’t moving at all.

“Are you okay? He—”

His words died in his throat as he realized three things about the person:

The first one was the bag thrown next to them, which was open and full of spray cans. The second one was the fact that they were covered in yellow paint, their dark clothes stained. The third one was that what they were holding in their hands was a bunch of crumpled sticky notes.

Hide’s heart sped up as he knelt in front of them, and when he extended his hand to tap them and see if they’d wake up his heartbeat was so loud in his ears he couldn’t hear anything else. He lightly tapped their shoulder, and they flinched slightly before making a tiny high pitched noise on the back of their throat. Hide swore he had never heard anything more beautiful than that.

The graffiti artist—because yes, it was them, it wasn’t a dream, it was them, the real deal righ in front of his eyes—slowly raised their head, their eyes half lidded and their mouth agape. They looked really sleepy.

They were so beautiful though, they were so beautiful Hide knew he had to be blushing, because his face felt like it was burning. He still couldn’t take his eyes away from that pale skin, that silky ebony hair and those gorgeous grey eyes.

He knew it. He knew the dark-haired boy in the graffiti was the artist himself.

The artist’s eyes widened slightly, and his mouth formed a little ‘o’. Hide tried to ignore how that was the most adorable expression he’d ever seen on anyone ever and tried to act natural, beaming at the artist.

“Hey,” he chuckled. His voice sounded hoarse.

Recognition flashed through the artist’s eyes, and he smiled so very softly.

“Hi.”

Chapter Text

Hide gulped and looked down, scratching the nape of his neck. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was definitely making shifty eyes at the graffiti artist, who was blushing nervously and looking to the side with an uneasy smile on his lips.

Cute…

“U-um,” the blond started, cursing himself for stuttering. “Are you okay?”

The black-haired boy flinched and rapidly turned his head to look at him, eyes wide. The sudden movement made Hide flinch back a bit as well.

“E-eh?” he squeaked, his voice going high.

Even cuter…

“I mean,” Hide said, chuckling and trying really hard to appear way more collected than what he felt like, “you seem like you’ve been out here for a while. Isn’t it uncomfortable? Aren’t you cold?”

The artist just stared at him without blinking, his mouth ajar. The blond gulped once again under the gaze of those clear grey eyes—they kinda looked like the cloudy sky before a heavy storm, and Hide wondered if that was just their natural color or the vibe they gave off because of what the other had been through.

The boy looked down, smiling softly—cute—and hugging his own legs tighter.

“I’m not cold,” he mumbled. “And I’m okay. Thank you.”

Hide could feel himself getting goosebumps from the other’s tone when he thanked him. He thought he had never heard anything so genuine.

This is the real deal. It’s the person I’ve been wanting to meet in front of me after months. The real thing, right in front of me.

The blond stood up and wiped imaginary dust off his pants, giving himself a moment to collect himself before beaming his trademark smile and reaching out his hand.

“Well, it’s nice to officially meet you! My name’s Nagachika Hideyoshi, but you can just call me Hide!”

The black-haired boy stared at him for a little while, looking quite awestruck. When he reached out to grab the hand Hide had extended at him, though, the notes he had been holding in his hand fell to the ground, and the boy blushed and hurriedly picked them up, mumbling inaudible apologies under his breath as he stowed them in his hoodie pocket.

That might had been the most endearing thing the blond had ever seen in his entire life.

He didn’t chuckle or say anything though. He felt like it would just make the other self-conscious, so he just waited. He had waited for dozens and dozens of days for this moment, so waiting for a little more as he watched the artist collect himself and look at him with his lips pursed and his ears red was nothing. He just waited for him with what he hoped was an amiable smile and his hand always extended, always waiting.

The hand that grabbed his was the hand that had painted all those wonderful pieces. It was soft, pale, and cold. Hide wanted to kiss it, thank it, and basically worship it.

He pulled the other up, helping him stand. He wasn’t very heavy, but there was weight, he was real.

He was just a tiny bit shorter than him. That somehow made him happy.

“Kaneki,” the boy said, looking everywhere but him with a nervous grin on his lips. “My name, that is.”

“Kaneki,” Hide repeated, tasting the name and loving how it sounded. “Hi.”

Kaneki giggled and squeezed his hand, and holy mother of god…

“Hey.”

Kaneki fiddled with the hem of his shirt as he stared from the blond’s back to the ground, then back to the blond and back to the ground. He had to bite his lip to hold back a giddy bubble of laughter.

“Kaneki,” that vibrant yet low-ish voice called him, dragging the last syllable a bit. It was strange, but he felt as if no one had ever called his name like that.

He looked up, feeling like his cheeks were embarrassingly flushed—though he had felt like that since the first time he had registered this boy was the same person who had made him feel better about everything for the past months.

The other was staring back at him, an easygoing smile on his lips—was that permanently there? Didn’t he get exhausted of smiling all the time?—and his gaze softened with genuine fondness Kaneki didn’t know how to deal with. He shone.

“Yeah?” he answered, and his breath caught in his throat when the other’s smile widened just as he let his voice out. He was so bright.

“Why are you walking behind me? I wanna walk side by side.”

Oh no, Kaneki thought. He had messed things up already. Walking so far behind a person was weird after all. He averted his eyes and strolled to catch up.

“S-sorry,” he mumbled.

“Dude, there’s nothing to apologize for,” the blond said with that permanent friendly smile on his lips. “I mean, we’ve just met, so it’s okay to be a bit awkward, I guess? We’re not used to talking face to face at all, and frankly speaking you seem kinda really shy, so I don’t blame you for walking behind me at all, it isn’t weird or anything. If you feel comfortable with it though I’d love to walk side by side with you!”

Once he registered the other’s words, Kaneki had to blink rapidly because there was no way he would tear up in the middle of the street in front of someone he had technically just met just because he had this strange ability of being able to say exactly what he needed to hear.

The other didn’t say anything, he didn’t pry or comment on how he was strangely blinking and nervously looking away. Why was he like that? How had Kaneki managed to meet someone like that? That kind of people only existed on books.

“Hide…” Kaneki mumbled, his heart pacing up because it was the first time he had said the other’s name, yet it rolled off his tongue so nicely and effortlessly.

Hide hummed in acknowledgement, giving him a playfully curious look.

The black-haired boy gulped and clutched the strap of his bag, the heat pooling in his cheeks getting more intense.

“You know? When y-you talk…”

Oh my god, shut up, you’re ruining this, you’re already ruining this.

Hide was just giving him a look that conveyed that he could take all the time he needed to word stuff properly, because he would patiently wait—just as he had waited for Kaneki all that time.

“When you… talk, you kinda…”

Shut your mouth before it’s too late, for god’s sake.

Kaneki closed his eyes and breathed deeply before opening them again and meeting Hide’s beautiful brown eyes, as warm and welcoming as his personality was.

“Your eyes shine when you talk… It’s really how I had imagined you’d be.”

Well, congratulations, now you’ve done it.

Hide laughed loudly, and Kaneki would’ve thought that being laughed at would make him feel bad, but he just somehow knew the other wasn’t making fun of him at all.

“I know, right? I’m just naturally charming like that.”

Kaneki laughed a bit more timidly, but he laughed nonetheless. Seriously, this guy was just way too amazing, he couldn’t be real.

“Wait,” Kaneki said, suddenly coming to a realization. “You’re not a serial killer, are you?”

The blond snorted loudly and started doing something that seemed to be in between laughing and coughing. It was highly unattractive but somehow really endearing.

“No, are you?”

“Of course not!” Kaneki yelped indignantly, definitely not pouting.

“Then why would I be? That’s mean!”

“Well you just seem too good to be true and in these cases it always ends up being a serial killer!”

Kaneki expected another whimsical reply, but when he saw that Hide had stopped talking and was just staring at him with his mouth agape and cheeks slightly reddened he realized what he had just said. He practically combusted in the spot.

“I—”

“Well, that caught me off guard!” The blond laughed a bit awkwardly, scratching his cheek sheepishly. “Do you wanna go get some coffee so we can talk a bit more?”

Kaneki gaped at the other, reluctant to believe that he hadn’t made fun of him or acted disgusted yet. Just who was this person?

His eyes zeroed in on the other’s backpack, and he frowned slightly.

“Don’t you have to go somewhere?”

The blond laughed and waved his hand dismissively.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry!” he said. “I have class, but it’s okay if I skip one day!”

“You don’t have to do it for me, just go to class…” Kaneki said, fiddling with the hem of his shirt again.

Hide’s expression softened—well, no, not really. It went from his carefree smile to a quite solemn expression, his gaze piercing. Kaneki felt a great intensity radiating from the other, and he shifted nervously, not really knowing how to act under that stare.

“Look, Kaneki.” The blacked-haired boy shivered when Hide spoke his name in such a serious tone. “This encounter is something I’ve been waiting for a long time. I rarely ever skip class, and I’m smart enough to miss a day. So believe me, this is far more important than a lecture in college.”

“Anteiku.”

“What?”

Kaneki scratched the nape of his neck and averted his eyes.

“It’s the coffee shop where I work. Today’s my day off, but we could go get some coffee and talk there.”

Hide smiled at him, and Kaneki felt so warm, so good, so right.

“Lead the way then.”

“I’ve been here.”

Kaneki turned around and looked at him just as he was starting to walk up the stairs that led to the familiar wooden door of the coffee shop.

“You have?” The black-haired boy tilted his head.

“Yeah. Like a lot. I’ve been here tons of times.” Hide said, taking a step forward, closer to the other. “I was here just last week. Remember I told you about eating a really good cake on this coffee shop in one of the notes? Well, if you’ve read them, there were lots of those.”

“Of course I’ve read them,” Kaneki replied immediately, the slightly offended frown on his features quickly being replaced by a puzzled expression. “How come you didn’t say anything when I asked you to come here earlier?”

“I’m bad with names.” Hide shrugged. “I couldn’t remember it.”

Kaneki hummed and climbed up the stairs, setting his hand on the door handle and stopping there. Hide stopped as well and looked over the other’s shoulder, trying to get a look of his expression.

He was wearing a sad smile. It was beautiful in its own way, and it somehow really suited Kaneki, but Hide didn’t like it.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just thought it’s kinda funny,” Kaneki said, looking ahead and promptly avoiding eye-contact with Hide. “I work here, and you say you’ve been here a lot, but we’ve never bumped into each other.”

The blond opened his mouth to reply, but the words died in his mouth as Kaneki spoke up again.

“Or maybe we have,” he started, “and we didn’t recognize each other. Maybe I’ve taken your order sometimes, maybe—”

Kaneki’s words were cut off when Hide hit his lower back with a knee. The impact hadn’t been very rough, since Hide hadn’t intended to hurt him at all, but the black-haired boy yelped in surprise and stumbled forward, his face colliding with the wooden door.

“We’ve never bumped into each other,” Hide announced loudly, patting the back of Kaneki’s head—which was still pressed against the hard wood—repeatedly. “There’s no way I would forget your face or your voice just like that.”

“But—”

“Plus, I stand out a lot. And I’m loud,” the blond interrupted. “There’s no need to overthink stuff like that, just go in.”

Kaneki let out a quiet whine and straightened up, rubbing his nose, reddened by the impact. Hide sighed and smirked, stepping forward and tugging at Kaneki’s hoodie sleeve.

“Come on, do you need me to take you by the hand and lead you inside?”

Kaneki looked at him and pouted, shaking his hand off and opening the door.

“There’s no need, thank you. And that hurt, you know?”

Hide smiled apologetically and followed him inside the shop. Right as they entered, Kaneki collided against something again. He was endearingly clumsy, Hide thought.

“Ow!” that something spoke, seemingly annoyed. “Watch where you’re going, shitty Kaneki!”

“Tou—”

“What are you doing here?” the short girl that had slammed into Kaneki interrupted. Hide recognized her as the quiet waitress that had taken his order several times. “I know you’ve been really spaced out lately, but you don’t work today, you know?”

Kaneki laughed bashfully and scratched the nape of his neck, looking at Hide and then back at the waitress, who was wearing a high school uniform. When his gaze diverted to the blond hers did too, and she raised a questioning eyebrow.

“I know, I was just hoping to have some coffee with my... um...”

“Friend!” Hide finished the other’s sentence, feeling like the other’s insecurity wouldn’t let him admit they had a relationship of any resemblance to friendship. “I’m his friend, nice to meet you, though we’ve met already”

A flash of recognition went through the girl’s face, and she put on a fake polite smile, bowing slightly.

“Ah yes, you’re a regular costumer, welcome,” she greeted. “Ah, now if you'd excuse me, I should be heading to class.”

“Alright!” Hide chirped, walking into the shop to leave the path to the door open and waving at her. “Have fun!”

She waved back and hurried outside, and Hide turned to Kaneki, who was still watching the door.

“I bet she can’t believe I have friends outside of here,” the black-haired boy commented.

Hide snickered and playfully punched the other’s arm.

“Well she can start believing it cause I plan to stick around for a while.”

Kaneki laughed quietly as he rubbed the spot Hide had punched. There was some tinges of uneasiness under his smile, and Hide pursed his lips.

He had only just met the graffiti artist, but he already wanted to find a way to make every single one of his smiles wide and genuine.

Kaneki wasn’t good at conversation, he really wasn’t.  Being forced to talk to someone for a long period of time was emotionally draining for him, and he always ended up being awkward and going quiet at random points. He always ran away from long conversations—either that, or the other person got tired of him and stopped talking to him.

So it was rare. What was happening at that precise moment was really rare.

“So, yeah,” Hide said around a full mouth, waving his fork around, “this upperclassman of mine I was talking about, he’s really sassy? He’s literally so rude but like his way of insulting me is so well thought out? Like he must have a degree on creative swearing or something, or he just writes some insults down and then memorizes them to use them at the most fitting situation or something ‘cause that can’t be natural.”

“Ah yeah, I feel like I know someone like that too.”

The blond swallowed down his bite of cake and leaned forward , invading Kaneki’s personal space. He flinched back a bit, but he didn’t mind as much as he thought he would.

“Really? Dude, these kinda people are rare. Honestly, like—”

And Hide rambled on, gesturing widely. Kaneki listened to him, his crazy stories, and the dorky voices he made to impersonate another person or emphasize what he was saying. It was so entertaining, it was so endearing, and the black-haired boy couldn’t help but laugh at his jokes and even reply to him often.

That had been going on for hours. Kaneki was honestly surprised about how long their conversation had been going on and how much he had ended up talking. At first he had been nervous and they had started slowly, but Hide had insisted he wanted to get to know “the graffiti artist he admired so much”, so they had ended up talking about each other.

Hide regarded himself as a spontaneous life-enthusiast who liked liking things. He loved music and western culture, he read manga, and took walks on his free time. He studied political science at university and worked part-time at an accounting company. He had been born and raised in Tokyo, but he currently lived alone in a small apartment that—according to him—was simple but really cozy. He had also said that he really enjoyed food and petting animals.

Hide hadn’t told him any of this personally, but Kaneki had seen that Hide was bright, kind, cheerful, and really good with people. He was the kind of person Kaneki had tended to feel intimidated of, but he was so warm, welcoming and easy to talk to that he hadn’t had time to feel intimidated at all.

And surprisingly so, Kaneki had talked about himself as well. He had said that he lived with his aunt—without specific details about his situation—and that he had also been raised in the city. He had talked about how he worked the morning shift at Anteiku and did afternoon classes at university, and that’s when they had concluded that their schedules were just completely incompatible, and that was why they had never even bumped into eachother.

Kaneki had said he that loved books, and he had rambled a bit too much about them, but Hide had only reacted to his enthusiasm with delight and had joked said that being a bookworm fit him, also encouraging him to talk more. He had also asked about his graffiti and how he started painting, and had listened with patience to Kaneki’s poor attempts at explaining everything.

After talking about the heavy stuff, Hide had just taken lead of the conversation and rambled on and on about work and university-related things, giving Kaneki a break and still letting him in the conversation. The black-haired boy still felt like he had some explaining and apologizing to do, but he liked the light-heartedness of their current talk, so he decided to wait.

“—and then everyone started shooting fireworks at me! I was honestly freaking out so much, but this classmate of mine, you see, he laughs like a seal, so—”

Hide’s gibberish stopped abruptly when his head banged loudly against the table. Kaneki jumped in his seat and almost fell to the ground, startled by the sudden action and the loud noise. He stared at the other in awe until he saw that on top of the blond’s head there was a hand that was connected to an arm that was connected to a torso that was connected to a very familiar face.

“Nishio-senpai…” Kaneki started, not really knowing how to continue his sentence. He had just witnessed his coworker and upperclassman pushing his friend’s face down and making it bang against the table, so he really didn’t think there was an appropriate reaction to that kind of action.

“Hello~” the upperclassman spoke in a monotone tone.

Hide let out a muffled pained whine and brought his hands to the back of his head, trying to tear the other’s hand off his hair.

“It’s a surprise to see you here, Nagachika. Really, I’m so surprised,” Nishio observed, his voice coated with sarcasm as he rested more weight against the other’s head. “What a surprise! Today is a good day, isn’t it? Full of surprises and such.”

So they knew each other? Kaneki wondered where from.

“Nishi—” Hide started, but he was cut off again.

“Don’t you fucking say a word, you piece of substandard mediocre shit.” Kaneki flinched back at the older male’s words. He had heard his coworker be harsh with his vocabulary, but not to that extent. “I was wondering why you weren’t helping out at the committee today and why you hadn’t been answering your phone, so I had expected you to be sick or something.”

“I’m so so—”

“But! I come to work and see you here, chatting about stupid shit with my coworker as if it was nothing. You’ve got guts, Nagachika, you really do.”

Kaneki stared at the both of them, and tied knots.

“Wait, you’re on a committee together? Hide, do you go to Kamii?” he inquired.

Nishio rested his free hand on his hip and raised a questioning eyebrow at Kaneki.

“You guys don’t know eachother from Kamii?”

Kaneki shook his head and looked at Hide, who was struggling to set himself free from the other’s grip. He sorta pitied him for his position, but he didn’t think he could win against Nishio, so he didn’t even try to rescue his friend.

“No, I’ve got a completely different schedule and don’t really talk to people there…”

“Well,” said the older male, “I’m not surprised about that.” He took a grip of Hide’s hair and liftied his head up, bending down at his eye level too. “You, though. You’ve got some explaining to do.”

“I didn’t know you worked at a coffee shop. The uniform must be cute on you,” Hide blurted out before Nishiki clicked his teeth and literally headbutted him. Kaneki flinched back again, really startled.

“Why...” Hide groaned in pain, grabbing his own head and hunching forward.

“You were asking for it.”

“I wasn’t!”

“I’ll hit you again.”

“Guys…” Kaneki butted into the conversation, wanting the argument to stop.

They both turned to look at him at the same time, and Kaneki had the strange thought that even if they were seemingly very different in character, they fit really well together. They didn’t seem to get along, but the black-haired boy couldn’t help but think they looked really close.

“What are you smiling for? Creepy.”

“He’s not creepy!” Hide retorted, seemingly offended.

Nishio decided to ignore the blond and addressed Kaneki again.

“Won’t you be late to class though? You usually leave when my shift starts.”

Ah.

“I’m sorry.”

Hide waved his hand dismissively, but when he saw the artist looking at his feet while walking he gave him what he hoped was a comforting pat on the back.

“No need to be sorry, man.”

The black-haired boy stopped dead on his track, and Hide stopped as well, untill the other started walking after a few seconds. He followed his step.

“I mean,” Kaneki started, fiddling with the strap of his bag, “I’ve made you skip classes but now we’re parting early ‘cause I won’t skip mine.”

Hide sighed and threw an arm around Kaneki’s shoulders, pulling him close and making him walk right by his side. He checked the other’s face for any signs of discomfort, and he started talking when he didn’t find them.

“You didn’t make me skip anything, I did it on my own. Moreover, we’ve talked for hours anyway, so it’s okay,” Hide reassured him.

“Not only that though… I—” Kaneki gulped and hunched forward.

“Take your time.” Hide squeezed the other’s shoulder.

The artist nodded and leaned a bit closer to Hide. The blond patiently waited for him to collect his thoughts and put them into words.

“I’m sorry for… just, pushing you away. And disappearing for so long without saying anything.”

“Kaneki...”

“You waited so much. You’ve been so patient with me and I can’t thank you enough for not giving up on me. I’m just so sorry for all the bother I’ve caused you.”

Hide chuckled softly and shook his head, bringing Kaneki even closer and squeezing him against his own side. He wanted to tell him there was nothing to apologize for, but he knew his friend was seriously sorry and Hide didn’t want to invalidate his feelings.

“Apology accepted. It was honestly worth it, and I’m a very patient person, so it’s not as bad as it could’ve been.”

“Hide…” Kaneki said, and there was a noticeable tinge of sadness and disbelief in his voice.

Don’t call my name like that. Not with that tone.

“I had fun today!”

Kaneki blinked and looked at him as if he had just been awoken from a dream. The black-haired boy coughed and put some space in between them, his face reddening slightly. He didn’t seemed that used to physical contact after all, so Hide backed off and gave him his space.

“Me too,” Kaneki murmured.

“You know what?” Hide asked, looking at Kaneki as the other titled his head with a questioning look. “Well, this is kinda embarrassing, but I thought a lot about how’d it go, you know, meeting you in person.”

Kaneki giggled under his breath and Hide nudged his side with the elbow, laughing with him and telling him to shut up. He scratched his cheek before continuing.

“And like, I was determined to make this comfortable for the both of us, but it’s still been much more natural than what I had expected. I don’t know, I just feel like we’ve been friends for so long, and it’s not even been a day since we met.”

“Yeah,” Kaneki started, smiling softly, “yeah, I feel the same.”

“I’m really happy, Kaneki.”

“Yeah.”

“Hey, let’s hang out again soon. We should exchange numbers,” Hide suggested.

“Alright.” He beamed.

It had been around five minutes since Kaneki had parted with his friend—the thought of using that word to refer to Hide with no regrets was overwhelmingly satisfying—when he got a text. Puzzled, the boy fished for his phone in his bag still full of painting supplies. He took it out and looked at the screen, letting out a breathless gasp when he read Hide’s name on it.

From: Nagachika Hideyoshi

Subject: lonely already!!

hello yes im a big fan nice to meet u and seeya soon ( ˘ ³˘)♥