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Eyes open, Kaneki could see nothing. His captor had made sure to keep him in the dark when he was alone. It had been weeks and Kaneki was barely starting to understand what what had put him here. A twisted, blackened romance had moved his jailer to cage him in an escape proof room. The wretched, possessive flame his captor held was unknown to him until he woke up after having gone to bed one night in his apartment. The white smooth ceiling he was expecting was nowhere in sight when he awoke and by his count it had been weeks since he’d last lay eyes on it.
At first all the man wanted was to converse with him but in his anger at being kidnapped Kaneki had adamantly refused. He spit out curses every time the door had spilled in a drop of light and refused to stop until he was once again alone. However as the days passed he found himself losing words and the will to keep screaming. His refusal of the captor’s presence also prevented Kaneki from getting any food or water. In the end the lack of sustenance left Kaneki unable to stop his jailer from coming in an 8th time. He’d let out a distressed sound upon seeing Kaneki unmoving. He had placed Kaneki’s head on his lap and slowly poured water into his mouth. Kaneki couldn’t tell how long his captor stayed with him but the entire time he pet Kaneki’s hair. That became a regular occurrence as Kaneki left behind his will to fight.
His captor slowly increased their physical contact as the days wore on. He would rub his thumb behind Kaneki’s ear and move on to caress the rest of his face. Sometimes when Kaneki was feeling especially hopeless he would allow himself to be pulled into his captor’s lap. It didn’t go unnoticed that his captor’s heartbeat sped up every time this happened. And although Kaneki took note of this he was left unsure of what to do with the information. There was no one to try to garner sympathy from besides his captor, who barely let out any sound. He would shush and hum occasionally but Kaneki was left virtually oblivious to what he sounded like. His begging to be freed reaped no response besides being held tighter and an occasional kiss on the head.
Oh, Kaneki knew he was being played but he felt that his fall into Stockholm Syndrome was apparent. What could he do to stop it? There was nothing in the room to use. The bed was bolted, ventilation shaft foo far up to reach and his captor never left any utensils behind. The toilet and sink had nothing he could loosen. And it’s not like he could fight. Kaneki was not built to say in the least and considering how easily his jailer picked him up a physical altercation was not something he’d win. He knew a losing battle when he saw one so he let himself go. He could be in worse situations, Kaneki surmised. Letting himself smile crookedly, he accepted his situation. Moving so his head was hanging off the bed, he faced the door until his captor came.
“Hello captor-san.”
“Hide is fine, Kaneki-kun.”