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Nothing could sooth Haise’s raging headaches like a warm carefully brewed cup of coffee. Except it was nearly ten o’clock at night, and nobody in their right mind would be serving coffee at this hour because nobody in their right mind would be drinking coffee at this hour.
Well, Haise had never been in his right mind anyway. If the identity issues weren’t already a tall tale sign of that. But disregarding the elephant in the room, he left the house where he and the quinx resided, and set out to buy more coffee grounds.
The night air was cold, and nipped away at his exposed skin causing Haise to wrap his scarf around himself just the slightest bit more. He could have sworn he saw the start of snowflakes beginning to dance around him, but he was too focused on staying warm to care.
He wondered if ghouls ever got cold. Half ghouls certainly did.
He quickly shook his head, scolding himself for asking such a juvenile question. Who cares if ghouls get cold or not. He certainly didn’t.
Right?
Haise hated himself for it, but too often he caught himself attempting to humanize the flesh eating creatures. Probably as a desperate attempt to find some form of humanity within himself. For the sake of his squad, his co workers, and heck, even for the sake of himself.
He dreaded simply thinking about how tense the house had been ever since word got out. Ever since Haise had lost control and Akira had to tranquilize him. He shuddered, but whether it was from the cold or the memory of searing pain blossoming from in between his eyes, he didn’t know.
What he did know, though, was that the people who he so lovingly mentored and trained no longer regarded him as human. Some were more subtle than others, but that didn’t prevent Haise from catching onto Shirazu’s newfound caution towards him, or the way Mutsuki would flinch twice as much around him, or how Saiko practically hid from him, or even how Urie no longer looked him in the eye.
Haise wanted to crawl into a hole and never come back out. But be it that he had no access to any, coffee would have to be the next best thing.
He found himself walking along a familiar street, looking at all the stores that were beginning to close as he passed them. All of them were plagued by darkness and a “CLOSED” sign hanging in the window.
Until one quickly caught his eye. It was much like a beacon of sorts amidst the dark neighboring shops. Inside a warm light still glowed, and the sign still read “OPEN”. And to Haise’s luck, it was a coffee shop.
The sign read :RE.
Suddenly the idea of enjoying a cup of coffee away from the house sounded like a much more pleasant endeavor. Anything to escape his awaiting demons at home.
So Haise grounded himself and entered the coffee shop with a gentle jingle of the bell attached to the door.
Upon entering he found that no one was occupying the space, not even any servers. He looked around, perhaps they really were closed and someone had forgotten to flip the sign.
Haise sighed, disappointed, and turned around preparing to leave.
When out of nowhere hurried steps from behind the counter were heard and a guy’s voice called out,
“Hold up! Don’t you want some coffee before you go?”
Haise turned around quickly to see a young barista, most likely around his own age, with bleached blonde hair and a bright smile as warm as the surrounding lights in the cafe.
Something about the curve of his smile seemed hauntingly familiar, and Haise was overcome with a wave of nausea. Though in hindsight it was probably just his body begging for the sustenance of coffee.
He hesitated before cautiously walking over to the counter,
“Are you sure you guys aren’t closed? I don’t want to impose.”
The barista only laughed,
“How could you be imposing when it’s my job to make people coffee?” he grabbed a discarded towel to dry his noticeably wet hands, “I was just out back washing my hands, sorry.”
Haise quickly shook his head, still apologetic,
“Oh no no, please don’t apologize.”
The barista smiled,
“Alright then, I won’t.” And then he began to work, grabbing a cup and readying the coffee grounds. Haise observed the young man complete his task, noting how gingerly he went about doing it. As if each individual bean were something to be treasured. There was a certain beauty to it. Making coffee. And Haise was delighted to see that this barista seemed to understand that.
“So what brings you here this late, my fellow wayward soul?” The barista asked, smirking, “After all, no one in their right mind would be up this late drinking coffee.”
Haise fought the urge to sputter, embarrassed. He instead rubbed the back of his neck, laughing nervously,
“Well, nothing much.” But there was much left unsaid. Like how when he sipped coffee for a moment, the warmth and comfort would overtake him and he could remember things that he had always thought were long forgotten. He was allowed to float in a peaceful cloud, reminiscing of warm smiles that once existed in his life in a timeline that was left unknown to him.
Then he would open his eyes, and his cup would be empty, and he was just as alone as when he began.
“If it makes you feel any better,” the barista interrupted his spiral, “no one in their right mind would be up this late making coffee either. So you’re not the only weirdo.”
For once Haise’s smile felt genuine,
“Thank you.” he said, truly meaning it. And he wasn’t sure if it was the relaxing atmosphere, or the smell of freshly brewing coffee, or the understanding gaze the barista offered him that was filled with a warmth no person should be capable of emitting.
But Haise broke down.
It started slow, as he fought his best to prevent the tears from overflowing down his cheeks, but that only ended in him succumbing to a trembling mess. He clenched his hands, and squeezed his eyes shut.
How pathetic.
“I-I don’t know, what I’m supposed to do.” He gasped, wincing at the way his voice cracked, “I don’t even know who I am. And now it’s like I’m being watched under this insistent microscope every minute of the day, and it’s waiting for me to mess up. It’s waiting for me to slip, and fall, and then I’ll be gone.”
He didn’t want to leave. Not yet. Not when he was trying so desperately hard to get his feet underneath him. Not when he was just starting to understand himself, even by just a hare. Because everything he’s done, everything he was would amount to absolutely nothing.
He would be nothing.
Haise’s shoulders shook just the slightest bit more.
And yet, a new weight appeared on one of them, prompting Haise to look up. He was met with pools of brown filled to the brim with concern. The barista was no longer smiling, instead he looked at Haise with an earnest gaze of understanding.
“Your actions don’t amount to nothing, Haise.” and Haise didn’t even bother to wonder how the barista knew his name, “Your life. Your struggles. They have a purpose. They have meaning. If no one else, than to yourself. Every character in a book has their doubts, right? If there’s no conflict, then there’s no story. So that just means that your story is in the midst of being written.”
Haise found himself beginning to calm down, grounded by the barista’s words.
“You read?” Haise sniffed. The barista laughed loudly, returning to his coffee making,
“Absolutely not.” his gaze turned thoughtful for a moment, as if he were remembering something of great meaning, “But I had a friend who did.”
“Could have fooled me. That was very poetic.” said Haise. The barista shrugged,
“The guy kind of rubbed off on me. Guess that’s a good thing though.” he smiled, “He used to be obsessed with this one author, Takatsuki Sen.”
Haise hummed, finally starting to calm down upon the shift in topics,
“She’s an exceptional novelist. But all her stories end in tragedy, I could never get through any of them.”
The barista sighed, still smiling,
“Yeah that sounds like Kaneki. Guy could never catch a break.”
Haise hesitated before asking,
“This friend, what happened to him if I may ask?” He found himself invested, especially with the barista frequently using the past tense to refer to his friend. But mostly because the name he used sounded hauntingly familiar.
The barista’s mood dropped, but was carefully masked with another one of his smiles, if a bit mellowed. If Haise had blinked he would have missed it.
“I don’t really know,” said the barista.
“You lost touch?”
“Guess you could say that.” he sighed, “Truth is, I’ve been searching for the guy for years.”
Haise’s eyes widened,
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
The barista continued to smile, and laughed,
“I’m pretty sure he’s fine where he’s at. Busy finding himself probably.” Then once again his smile lost a bit of its shine, “But a selfish part of me just wants him to come home already.”
Haise found it only right to stop prodding the guy, understanding he had rubbed a sore spot that was not yet quite healed. Haise understood perfectly what it was like to have those internal wounds picked at, and it never felt good.
His were reopened every time he looked in a mirror.
Without warning a steaming cup of coffee was placed right below his nose, and Haise could see his shocked expression in the reflection of the warm drink. He then realized he had never even technically ordered a drink from the barista.
Haise gingerly picked up the cup, touching the rim to his lips and taking a sip of the most heavenly cup of coffee he had ever tasted. It was exactly how he liked it. To the letter.
And he hadn’t even spoken a word to this man about coffee.
Haise finished his long and enjoyable sip, and looked at the barista, both shocked and amazed.
The barista only wore his notorious grin, knowing something Haise may or may not be aware of.
“Whatcha think?”
“Are you a psychic?” Haise asked, baffled. The barista erupted in bright laughter, and Haise couldn’t help but compare the image to that of the sun’s jovial rays.
“Nope.” he laughed, “Just a barista.”
It was then that Haise realized that he had never even asked for the man’s name.
“Even baristas have names. So what’s yours?”
The barista replied,
“Hideyoshi Nagachika. But please, just Hide. The rest is a mouthful.”
Haise tried it out on his tongue, and it was as if the name had already belonged there long before Haise had ever said it.
“Hide?”
And Haise could have sworn he saw a certain wet gleam appear in Hide’s eyes.
“What’s up man?”
“Thank you. For everything.” He said, “And for what it’s worth, I hope your friend finds himself and comes back.”
Hide nodded his head,
“Yeah, me too.”
And Haise had a feeling he would.