Work Text:
Et comme tu vois c'est bien la fin
Je dois traverser l'océan demain matin
De tes bras, je m'arracherai tout doucement
Et c'est la réalité qui m'attend.
"Little Mouse," Tsukiyama answered his phone.
"Do you have the painting yet?" The girl, Chie, lashed him out.
"Nope. And I don't think I'll have it soon."
"What?"
It was a beautiful evening in the Place de la République, Paris. Tsukiyama put the phone down and sighed deeply, ignoring Chie. The sun slipped through his eyelashes, hurting his pupils. He closed his eyes for a while, and when he opened them again, a sight much more beautiful than Paris in the evening was waiting for him.
He totally looked out of place. Silky, black hair. A map and his phone in one hand and a book from a Japanese author in the other. He really did look out of place, a total foreign. And he was lost, for what he could appreciate in those few minutes.
Tsukiyama watched him trying to talk to the people passing there, asking for directions in a bad French. It was when the sun was almost disappearing on the other side of the city, that Tsukiyama decided to help him out.
"Where do you need to go?" Tsukiyama talked to him in Japanese, softly, as if not wanting to scare him.
The boy turned and looked at him, relieved.
"I kinda got lost..."
"I can see that."
"And I need to go back to my hotel room or my friend is going to worry..."
"Alright. What's your hotel's name?"
"I don't know how to pronounce it, so it's ok if I write it?"
"Fine."
Luckily, the boy's hotel wasn't really far from the Place de la République, so Tsukiyama walked him there. By the little chat they had while walking, Tsukiyama became aware of two things: first, the name of this boy was Kaneki Ken, a major in Literature back in Japan; second: Tsukiyama couldn't take his eyes off of him.
It was strange for him to say goodbye to Kaneki without wanting to go with him. Kaneki took the elevator to his room and Tsukiyama stood there, in the middle of the lobby, trying to figure out what just happened.
Maybe, he calmed down, it was just another delirium, intensified by the sun in Paris.
But it was not another delirium, as he came back to the Place de la République, hoping to find him again.
Tsukiyama called himself a fool, a dumb man. He tried to dismiss himself in order to not let his hopes grow. What was he doing there, waiting for someone he met yesterday?
But just when he was about to give up, Kaneki Ken appeared.
"Tsukiyama-san!"
"Uh... Kaneki-kun? What are you doing here?" Tsukiyama asked, happily surprised.
"I wanted to give you my thanks for yesterday, but when I realized I didn't have your contact info, I thought that you might be here," Kaneki explained, with that silky black hair getting disheleved by the wind.
This is bad, that's what Tsukiyama thought before Kaneki continued.
"So, to thank you for helping me out yesterday, do you want to go for coffee?" He offered.
"With pleasure."
That, certainly, was bad. But maybe Tsukiyama wasn't fully aware of the slight touch of his hand with Kaneki's when they walked side by side, and definitely didn't know that he was starting to crave more.
"How's the paiting going?" Chie called.
"It looks better now. Almost finished," Tsukiyama answered.
"I hope so. Your deadline is in one week, and then you'll have to flight to Japan."
"Understood."
Chie kept silent for a while.
"What made you paint so suddenly? I mean, four days ago you wouldn't even touch a brush without making a fuss," Chie asked and she sounded worried.
"Maybe, you know, coming to Paris was a good idea."
Everyday, without miss, they met at the same place at the Place de la République.
Tsukiyama usually arrived there first, but when Kaneki didn't have his tour around the city, he would wait for Tsukiyama two hours earlier, reading a book.
Aside from his name and his major, Tsukiyama didn't know anything else. But it didn't really matter in this city. Because this wasn't his homeland and he was a stranger for everyone. He didn't belong in Paris and that's what he loved so much about meeting Kaneki everyday: they both were total strangers in a city much more stranger that them.
"Tsukiyama-san," Kaneki said in a soft voice.
"Humm?"
The sun was disapearing in the Place de la Républic. Soon, the only light they'll have would be the one from the street lamp. Just when the sky turned purple, Kaneki took Tsukiyama's hand. And, finally, when the sky was completely black and there was no one on the streets, Kaneki said something unthinkable. "I like you, Tsukiyama-san."
All the emotions and feelings that didn't hold a shape became one solid form and came to take Tsukiyama's breath away.
Silky, black hair. A coffee after midday. A book from certain Japanese author. Bad French lessons. A painting missing someone in it. That uncertainty after meeting Kaneki for the first time.
But that wasn't uncertainty: that was love at first sight.
Tsukiyama didn't need a long answer.
"This wine is good, taste it," Tsukiyama moved the wine closer to Kaneki.
"No, it's ok, really..."
"Don't be shy. Drink it."
Kaneki took the wineglass reluctantly but still drank it.
After a while, Tsukiyama chuckled and said, "You aren't used to drink alcohol, are you?"
"I'm barely 20," Kaneki defended himself.
"Oh, I guess that makes me your senior. I'm 23."
"You don't look like it," Kaneki drank more wine.
"Are you saying I'm look a lot more handsome than that?" Tsukiyama joked but when Kaneki's face became red he knew he was stepping in a dangerous zone.
"Anyway," almost shouted Kaneki, trying to change the conversation. "What are you doing here in Paris?"
Tsukiyama thought his answer a while. He just couldn't say he was there to finish a paiting he didn't want to finish. And he wasn't saying he was there to run away from a reality waiting for him in Japan, either.
"I don't know. But you know? This situation is like an elopement," Tsukiyama said in English, half-joking, half-hoping Kaneki wouldn't know the last word.
However, Kaneki's face flushed and almost dropped his wineglass.
"You do know the word," Tsukiyama was embarrassed as well.
"I know a bit of English," Kaneki whispered.
Both avoided meeting their eyes for a while. They were too embarrassed to talk again and made the atmosphere awkward.
"I have to go," said Kaneki past midnight.
He was tipsy and his cheeks were slightly pink from the alcohol.
Tsukiyama was in the same state as Kaneki, or that's was what he made himself believe, as he took Kaneki's hand and didn't let him leave.
"Stay. I want to show you something."
Kaneki, almost drunk, accepted and let Tsukiyama led him to his room.
In the middle of the room there was a big canvas covered by a white sheet. Tsukiyama took the sheet off, revealing a beautiful, yet surrealist, scenary.
"I haven't finished it," confessed Tsukiyama. "So... That's why I wanted to show it to you. It's missing you."
"Huh?"
"Can I paint you?" Tsukiyama asked.
The first thing Tsukiyama touched that night wasn't the painting, but Kaneki.
When he saw Kaneki taking off his clothes, everything became blurry. Tsukiyama made him stop because now he was taking Kaneki's clothes himself. He touched every inch of skin and made sure to remember everything. All the moles, the scars, the soft skin, the bones, the goosebumps his fingers left on Kaneki's arm.
Everything descended quickly into mayhem.
Ah, Tsukiyama thought, finally a place where I can belong.
They buried themselves under the sheets and Tsukiyama made sure to make love to Kaneki tenderly, as if he was someting so fragile that even touching him would make Kaneki disappear into the air. At the distance, they could see the light from the Eiffel Tower.
Kaneki lied on the bed, sleeping. After all that chaos, Tsukiyama got up and started paiting.
He painted Kaneki in the same position he was sleeping, with such a blissful face. Without lying, that was the most beautiful image he had ever seen in all his life.
Tsukiyama painted with frenzy. With the dim light from his lamp, Tsukiyama painted and painted until Kaneki woke up.
"Tsukiyama-san," Kaneki called for him.
"Don't move. I'm paiting you."
Kaneki obeyed and stayed silence.
"I have to go back to Japan in a few hours," said Kaneki, in a comforting voice, soft and sweet.
The words Tsukiyama wanted to say didn't come out. Don't go, don't leave this city. Don't leave me now that I have found you. But he just kept painting.
If he begged him not to go, would Kaneki stay?
Tsukiyama looked at Kaneki, in his bed, with that blissful expression of love and tender. His gaze intensified and he ended up looking at Kaneki as if he was the brink of the world: unable to look at anything else.
"You know where's your hotel, right?" Tsukiyama asked.
"Yes."
"Please, don't get lost again."
"Hopefully, not."
They were again at the Place de la République. The morning was about to come and Kaneki had to go, no matter how many times Tsukiyama would take his hand.
Tsukiyama let his hand go.
"I'm sorry. I would have really liked see that painting finished."
"It's ok. Maybe I can show it to you someday."
"Thank you."
And with a goodbye kiss, Kaneki Ken went away before the morning could arrive to the Place de la République.
"Is the painting finished?" asked Chie.
"It is."
"Then come back to Japan."
"I think I want to stay here a bit more."
"Why?"
"I am waiting for someone."
Before Chie could answer, Tsukiyama turned off his phone.
Then he closed his eyes and waited. If he could heard that voice again, just once...
The sun slipped through his eyelids. He hoped for Kaneki to be lost again at the Place de la République.