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Time is a funny thing.
It can go slowly, or fast; sometimes you feel it, and sometimes you spend all of your time avoiding the feeling of it slipping away. Most people want more time, only the lonely want less. Some people are waiting for their time to be up, and some spend their time wishing that they'd used it more wisely. People use time as a word to describe things, like their lives, or their work, or their wants and desires. Years, months, weeks, days, minutes, seconds. They are what we use to let each other know how long it has been, how long we need to wait, how long we should wait, how long we have been waiting. In the end, time is not something we control. There is a set amount of time for everyone, and you cannot have more, or less, no matter how much you want it.
Hide isn't sure how much time he has left. He doesn't know how long he's been waiting, but he knows exactly what he's waiting for. But he also knows that his time is running out. He doesn't know how long he intends to wait here for him, or if he's even going to show up. He'll have his answer in a few minutes though, if the blood pooling at his waist is anything to go by. The mug he was holding lies on its side near his outstretched hand, coffee strewn in a brown puddle across the floor, slowly mingling with his blood.
He smiles ruefully.
It was never going to be as good as Kaneki's, but he wanted to have something for him when he arrived.
But would he arrive? Would he even come? If he did, would it be before or after Hide died? If he arrived before, Hide wouldn't be strong enough to do much except look at him. He would be able to see every emotion that passed across Kaneki's face, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to know how Kaneki felt about him without being able to tell him if he felt the same, or differently. If he arrived after, Hide would never know what Kaneki felt when he looked at his still body, but maybe that was for the best. Would he feel sadness? Remorse? Happiness? Hide quietly hoped to himself that it wasn't any of them. He half hoped Kanki would see him and look at him with complete indifference, like he'd forgotten about him. It was possible that he might not recognize him with his grown out hair, and his longer limbs, and the blood covering most of his face. Would he notice the age set in his skin? The bags under his eyes from nights spent watching and then re-watching news clips, reading articles online, aching for a glimpse of unrecognizable yet familiar white hair? If he held him, would he notice how thin he had become? If he looked at him, really looked at him, would he see how lonely he had grown without him beside him?
In the end, the only thing Hide wanted more than anything was for Kaneki to say that he loved him. That, even after the months they'd spent apart, Kaneki had remembered him, and the smiles they used to direct at each other. All of the secrets they told, and all of the laughter they shared. He wanted Kaneki to remember that he was still there, and he wanted kaneki to tell him that he remembered those things, like Hide did.
Hide wanted to be able to tell him that he remembered every kiss, every touch, every night they spent together. All the times they'd cried together, or apart, or for reasons completely unrelated to each other. He wanted to say that he remembered every single time that Kaneki had told him he loved him, and he wanted to hear it again.
He wanted to hear I love you just one more time before he could never hear it again.
Hide feels his legs go numb as he rests against the bar inside Anteiku. His eyes slide shut as his mind struggles to keep him alive; he barely registers the sound of a door opening somewhere in the distance, the faint sound of a bell accompanying it. There is the sound of sluggish feet, and then a warm hand is on his cheek.
He knows that it's Kaneki, can tell from one familiar touch. Kaneki has found him, and Kaneki hasn't forgotten him.
His mouth tries to twitch into a smile, and Kaneki must see it, because he feels himself being pressed against a hard chest, a warm breath ghosting across his ear.
"Hide?" Kaenki's voice is quiet, and all of Hide's questions and worries are answered in this single word.
I didn't forget you,
I remember,
I'm sorry.
Don't leave, Hide.
I still love you.
I didn't stop loving you.
I'm sorry I left you alone.
He wants to say something, to reassure him, to comfort him, but his lips refuse to form words.
Please, he thinks. Give me this, and I can go.
His eyes open for the last time and he smiles at the face looking down at him.
"Let's go home, Kaneki."
His eyes close, and his head slumps against Kaneki's shoulder. He spends his final moments in Kaneki's arms, listening to the sound of Kaneki saying his name over and over, and he knows that he can go now.
His heart stops, and he lays motionless.
Let's go home, Kaneki.