Work Text:
Haise looks at his wrist. Counting the few red while pondering on the sole black tally. When did that little black tally appear? Obviously in his former life, obviously as Kaneki Ken. But when exactly did it come? When exactly did it turn black?
At some point the human named Kaneki Ken turned into a ghoul. So when did he find someone who loved him back? No matter what kind of person Kaneki was before he became a ghoul, Haise doubts that person could come to love a crazy, violent, unstable half ghoul. Whether that person was a ghoul or a human, how could they love such a man?
Kaneki Ken became insane.
Kaneki Ken was dangerous.
And he is the monster that remains.
How could anyone in their right mind possibly love that?
Yet, there was a small part of him that quietly wondered…
The person who had a black tally mark because of Kaneki Ken, were they still waiting for him to return to them? Would anyone ever love him like that? Would anyone accept him the way he is now?
Suddenly, he finds himself mesmerized, unable to take his eyes off her.
He sees her in all her grace and beauty. Her hair is colored like the sky and fluffy like clouds. Her skin is a beautiful creamy color mainly hidden underneath modest clothing. Her soft lips, the perfect shade of pink. She is more beautiful than he could ever expect a person to be and even that comment feels like an understatement.
But it is her eyes that truly captivates him. Her beautiful eyes tinged with the slightest traces of sadness. Eyes are an entrance into the soul. He sees a fragile soul, a soul that had to be pieced together time and time again (he doesn’t know why exactly he thinks that, it was just a feeling that he had). He wanted to ease her soul and make her know that he would be there. He wanted to be there for her if she needed him, whenever she needed him.
He wonders what her smile would be like if she smiled with all her heart instead of it being tainted by sorrow. She would probably look even more beautiful, surely.
Still, it feels like there’s something more that attracts him to her.
Her little coffee shop is soothing and warm, just like her presence. Being there, feels familiar, incredibly familiar (it feels like home) and yet it’s still distant. Home…He wonders if it’s ridiculous to consider this place a home. (It’s just so comfortable to be here that he hardly notices when the hours pass.)
Regardless of all else, he just wants to be closer to her…Is that a strange thing to want of someone he barely knows?
Yet no matter how much his infatuation grows, another mark doesn’t appear. He counts and counts, but there aren’t any changes. Perhaps one will never appear. Perhaps he doesn’t know what love is. Perhaps he will never find someone to love. And even if he did, the mark would never be black, he was sure of that.
“Sorry for the wait,” she said as she placed the white mug down in front of him.
“Thank you,” he said as their fingers brushed past each other. Not expecting the sudden contact, he quickly retracted his hand and apologized,” I’m sorry!”
“It’s alright,” she insisted with a timid looking smile. He almost couldn’t help but smile wider. Her fingers were soft and supple. He wanted to hold her hand. What would he have to do to get closer to her, he wondered as he picked up his mug, taking a sip of the fragrant coffee.
Ha!
Just listen to him. He acts like he does have a chance. Even just wondering was a beyond foolish thought. That woman only has one black mark gracing her wrist. Even if she didn’t have a lover, (who would dare leave her?) there’s already someone in her heart. He shouldn’t try to intervene (especially since he’ll just cause her more harm than good).
Why would he burden another person just because he wants to love them? And she, by no means, loves him (he doesn’t even have to ask to know that for sure).
“Sir?” she called out. “Is everything alright?”
He put his favorite mask on and rubbed his chin. “Of course! Your coffee is always delicious!”
Because honestly …
…Who could love a monster as hideous as him?
This woman deserves better than him.
He took another sip, finding that it tasted a little bitterer and a little saltier.