#utaneki

It does. Get better, thatis.

The moment his eyes openand meet the purely unnecessary and frankly rude glare of the morningsun, reminding him tenfold why mornings suck as a general rule, hisstomach lurches and he’s suddenly bent over a toilet, completelynude.

The air is cold on his assand, more importantly, his flushed face and helps to tame the rage inhis stomach. He throws up one more time and wonders if his liver justgave up on processing all that ale and then the sake after thatseemed like a really good idea but obviously wasn’t. His mouth feelsand tastes worse now than it did ten minutes ago and he’s really gotto pee, but moving is problematic. It makes him feel like he’s diedand been brought back, his limbs heavy and uncooperative, borderingpainful.

He’s sure of two things,sitting on the chilly tile of some random man’s bathroom, and thoseare that he hates Ayato for even talking him into going out – helikes books over clubs for a reason, this situation being a greatfucking example – and also that the sex the night before had beenphenomenal. Five stars, two thumbs way up, ten out of ten rating. Hedoesn’t actually remember the specifics but the story his body tellsis clear in the smattering of puffy scratch marks and purplingbruises that parade across his otherwise blemish free skin, trailingthe definition in his collar and the slope of his neck and throat.That and well, his ass hurts.

Kaneki hears the tell-talesigns of waking up in the room over, hears a soft and masculine huffthat turns into a groan of agony that makes him twinge in sympathy.Hangovers are a cruel bitch created by the most evil of beings; baddecisions.

Rationally, he thinks thatmaybe the better way of re-introducing himself to this man wouldprobably not be hugging his toilet without a single stitch ofclothing and the remnants of yesterday’s food and last night’smistakes swirling in the water. Still, this hasn’t exactly been thebest days in way of luck as Kaneki hadn’t really intended to staylong enough to once again meet – what the hell was his name?Something with a U, maybe. It isn’t much to go on though and his headreally does hurt so he gives up trying to sift through alcohol soakedmemories.

U-whoever is up andwalking around now, Kaneki can tell by the faint sound of feetshuffling along worn hardwood flooring. Kaneki manages to at leastlift his head up and flush the goddamn toilet before the fatefulmeeting transpires.

It’s a matter of sevenseconds by Kaneki’s count before he sees feet shuffle into hisdowncast line of sight. His eyes travel lazily, slowly up and rakeover every bit of the man standing in front him. He’s inked up to alarge degree, he notes with interest, and there’s an array ofpiercings decorating a handsome face that, on one side, is framed bythe purest black hair Kaneki’s seen while the other side is shornaway and he can make out the sharp angle of a cheekbone that’sslightly inflamed. The sight of him tugs at Kaneki’s unreliablememory, a series of incomplete images that haven’t been fullydeveloped.

“Oh.” It’s said on abreath, pushed out of lungs and spread through the air between them.He doesn’t sound surprised, which is good in Kaneki’s opinion, butthere’s nothing else all that detectable in one syllable.

The man disappears fromthe doorway and is back before Kaneki can even truly wonder wherehe’s rushed off to with what are very much Kaneki’s pants. He tossesthem to Kaneki and they’re tugged up his slender legs appreciatively,granting him the peace of mind that comes with covering up one’s assand privates. There isn’t anything else said between them whileKaneki finally finds his way to his feet and navigates how to usethem again, complete with pins and needles making him want tosimultaneously laugh and cry.

He’s given a sparetoothbrush and accepts it with a mumbled thanks before setting to thegruelling challenge of fending off the dragon breath of a morningafter. Uta, is the man’s name, Kaneki learned before the other duckedout with the claim of seriously needing coffee if they were going toactually converse. Kaneki shrugged, took the offered dentalinstrument, and watched Uta’s bum sway on his way out.

With his teeth clean andtongue no longer fuzzy, Kaneki sets out to the kitchen after stoppingto grab his shirt from the night before. He’s running his handsthrough his hair, trying to make more sense of the white mess it’sbecome when he finds Uta again. He’s standing in the kitchen, facingthe sink and looking out the window with a much more serene look thanthe wide-eyed half asleep and hungover as hell expression he woreearlier. He’s sipping what looks and smells like the divine holinesscalled coffee and it makes Kaneki’s mouth water, his stomach giving apitiful gurgle.

The sound catches Uta’sattention and he turns to look at Kaneki for a moment before he handshim another cup, their fingers connecting over heated ceramic with acharge. He thanks him again, lifting the cup to inhale the rich andearthy scent before taking his first drink. It’s wonderful, not likewhat they make at the coffee shop Kaneki works in, but good in a waythat Kaneki thinks is probably unique to Uta. He may not know much,if anything, about the quiet man but he could tell that he had hisown way of doing things.

Again, they don’t say muchaside from the formalities. It’s odd for Kaneki who usually feels theneed to fill the silence, but he’s honestly still too fucked up fromthe night before to chance propriety and besides having a drunkenone-off with an unknown man isn’t entirely proper to begin with. Allin all, Kaneki thinks they’re both giving each other a pass.

His eyes turn to the leftto peer at Uta, his curiosity beginning to rear its head again nowthat his temples have stopped throbbing with the help of wondrouscaffeine. He’s hard to read, something Kaneki hasn’t had much issuewith in his life and finds he doesn’t dislike it as much as he mighthave assumed. Uta’s something, someone, Kaneki’s never been facedwith; attractive and a mystery.

It’s almost a shame thatKaneki has a weakness for such things, apparently.

“Um,” he starts andpauses to clear his throat and rid himself of any awkward tension.This situation could get a lot more disastrous, after all. He doesn’teven know what he wants to say or what he thinks he’s trying achieveby saying anything in the first place, but his mouth has seeminglysupplied him with a number of things to thoughtlessly talk about.“You have a lot of interesting pieces on display. Are you an artistor something?” Kaneki can’t fathom when he took the time to lookaround the dingy flat but sure enough, there’s a variety of colourfilled canvases ranging in size littering the walls and even on astand in the corner of the den and along those are what Kaneki thinksmight be masks each as different from the next.

Uta shifts next to him andKaneki’s eyes are glued to the way the ink of his skin looks fluid asthe muscles beneath roll and manoeuvre around joint and bone. It’sendlessly captivating in a way he can’t explain. “My shop isdownstairs, we passed through last night but your mind was on otherthings.” Uta’s voice is smooth and low and flows over every wordlike a caress. “I craft masks and, on occasion, supply customerswith more specific needs.”

The answer seems a bitvague and the first part has a slight plume of red highlightingKaneki’s cheeks to hear about their endeavours so carelessly andcasually, like this is an occasion that presents itself daily. Andmaybe it did, Kaneki doesn’t know. He accepts it for what it is,biting back the snippy retort that rises to his mouth – Ayato’sinfluence over him has no bounds it would seem – and takes anotherdrink of his coffee. “Sounds more interesting than working at acoffee house and being an undetermined college student,” heremarks, side-eyeing Uta to see if he can catch a glimpse of reactionat being made aware of the obvious gap in their age. Kaneki didn’texactly care and Uta really wasn’t that much older from the looks ofthings, but any sort of indication of what Uta thought about it mighthelp quell the knowledge thirsty wasps in his stomach.

To his disappointment,Uta’s apparently very talented with masks indeed because there isn’ta trace of reaction to be found when he says, “It makes me happy,at the very least.”

Uta asks if he’s hungry inthe next minute and Kaneki really can’t refuse the temptation of foodand let’s Uta make them both breakfast.  It’s a simple meal of riceand toast but it’s more than enough to help curb Kaneki’s hangoverwhen paired with the coffee and Uta’s not at all unpleasant companyso he doesn’t complain, but thanks Uta and clears the table whenthey’re finished.

Kaneki’s drying off thelast plate when arms are suddenly wrapping around his waist andplayful hands and artist’s fingers are slipping under his shirt andmapping nonsensical lines in his skin. Warm breath is at his neck,tickling the shell of his ear as Uta leans in and plants a teasingkiss along his pulse point. “Kaneki-kun, do you want to have ashower with me?” he asks, boldly swiping his hand lower on Kanekiand furthering the gathering frenzy between them.

It’s the sound of glass breaking andthe telling patter of feet that wakes Uta. The headache he had whenhe’d fallen asleep thunders back to life, hammering into the back ofhis skull with every step he takes towards the intrusion. His naturaldefencive instincts flare up as well his territorial ones, cautionlacing every one of his actions as he creeps down the stairs thatconnect studio to loft.

It’s not unusual, he presumes, forrobbery to occur in this neighbourhood but he is a ghoul and thatdoesn’t always bode well in such situations, or ever. His senses aresharp, heightening under the pressure and with presence of someoneelse, someone his gut tells him is another ghoul or half thereof.

Uta’s lungs deflate when their eyesfind each other’s. One amber grey eye and the endless black and rubyhue of kakugan peer at Uta from the shadows, familiar slight frame asolid black silhouette in the unobstructed light of the moonstreaming in through the window he’s broken, milk white hair visibleand indicative.  Kaneki Ken is standing in front of him, havingbroken into his home and business, and Uta has no idea quite what todo other than stare in bewilderment with his heart in his throat.

Silence carries between them in thickwaves that make breathing a chore for Uta, his eyes never leaving theyoung man in front of him even as he nears Kaneki, approaching him ashe might a wounded animal fearful of him skittering off into the hushof the night. As Uta passes the first doorway that veers off into asmall washroom, he runs a hand along the wall and feels for thelightswitch, flipping it and flooding the room with the harsh glareof industrial lighting. His gaze flickers from Kaneki for a meremoment to adjust but it’s enough time to allow the half-ghoul toclose in on his personal space.

He’s in front of Uta, not touching him,but close enough that Uta can feel how chilled he really is and theshivers that seize his muscles every other minute. Uta catcheshimself and steadies before reaching out and carefully laying hishand in the middle of Kaneki’s shoulders, licking his lips withconcentration as he keeps the pressure light and nonthreatening,silently inviting Kaneki further inside.

Uta gets him up the stairs and lights acandle, deciding the softer glow would better suit them both whencompared with the bitter bite of artificial lighting at this time ofnight. He then grabs the blanket thrown over the back of the sofa anddrapes it over Kaneki’s trembling shoulders in an attempt to warmhim, comfort him, and gestures for him to take a seat wherever helikes. Uta then goes to his kitchen and rummages a bit to find twotins of ready-made coffee, pours them into respective mugs and thenwarms them in the microwave. He presses one between Kaneki’s coldfingers, firm in his silent demand for him to drink.

Then, Uta waits.

He hasn’t known where Kaneki’s been forsome time now, no one has and most have written him off as dead. Utarationalised that was logical – the path Kaneki had chosen wasperilous and had taken him to the ends of his own wit and back andthen some, a path streaked with crimson and wrought with death –and allowed himself to buy into the lie, denying his heart any realtime to bud with hope. Yet, here he was, studying that very sameperson over the rim of his poor excuse of coffee and hospitality,anxiety balling up between his ribs and beneath his sternum, pressingdown with a heavy anchoring weight on his lungs and heart.

Kaneki moves, taking quick furtivesteps toward the edge of Uta’s bed and perching upon the corner. Hiseyes are cast down, kakugan gone and replaced with slate, looking athis reflection in the dark of the coffee in his cup which he hascradled between his hands. Uta thinks he looks lost and it twistssomething inside of him.

“Kaneki-kun,” he allows, his voicethick with sleep and disuse and loud in the silence between them. Thesounds of city life can be heard beyond the walls of the loft,drunken hollering and the pulsing hum of bass from nearby clubs butit doesn’t stir either of them, both focused only words neither canquite find.

Kaneki blinks, his eyelids slippingclosed for a long moment before fluttering open once more and hiseyes cast towards the mask maker. “No one knows I’m here.” It’sall he can make himself say, his thoughts hazy and scattered amongstthe pain he’s feeling and the sheer exhaustion that’s settling deepin his bones. His grip on the coffee mug tightens.

Uta nods, taking a sip of his coffee.He’d figured as much the moment he saw him downstairs, saw in thelines of his face that even he was surprised he’d come there. Itmakes Uta wonder what’s happened to Kaneki, what he could have beenput through to leave him so disorganised and out of tune withhimself. Then, he thinks that perhaps he doesn’t want to know at all.

There’s an underlying message in thewords as well that Uta picks up on; no one knows he’s here and so noone will. Uta takes another sip of the coffee and studies Kaneki abit further. He looks the same but altogether different in a way nottangible enough to be put in words. He’s gained muscle and bulk, haslet his hair get longer and has even grown just the faintest bittaller, but there’s still something he can’t place about this versionof Kaneki Ken. Something feels edgier, more feral in him than thelast time they’d been together, something Uta doesn’t know what tomake of without more information that he’s unwilling to ask for.

It’s his eyes, Uta decides whiledrinking in the last bit of coffee in his cup. They give away thechange in Kaneki clear enough to anyone with the talent of readingthem, of reading him. He’s battle-worn. Tired in a way sleep can’tfix and scarred in a manner beyond physicality. It’s sad to him whenUta thinks back on how hopeful and naive Kaneki had been the firsttime he blundered into this studio hidden behind Touka. Kaneki isn’tdoe-eyed and wondrous anymore and that breaks Uta’s heart the fairestbit.

Uta moves across the room to sit closerto Kaneki, again placing his hand on that same spot on Kaneki’s upperback  to dispel the tension built up and knotted there. Kaneki leansinto the gentle touch and finally raises the cup of now roomtemperature coffee to his lips, gulping it down in such haste thatUta worries when he last drank anything. “Why are you here?” Utaat last asks, calm and casual. He asks as though he isn’t all thatinterested in the answer, asks in a way that won’t pressure Kaneki ormake him feel under observation.

Beneath his hand Uta can feel Kanekistiffen, muscle becoming taut with agitation and based on the suddentwitch Kaneki developed in his leg Uta could guess he was pressinginto territory that the other would rather run away from than talkabout.

He sighed, resigning himself to hisquestions going unanswered as he pushed away from the bed and wentinto the bathroom, turning on the tap to the tub and setting it tofill with hot water and a bit of jasmine oil to froth and addcomfort. Uta pulled his tank top off with ease, dropping it to thefloor between the door of the bathroom and the walk to his bed. Hetugged the blanket away from Kaneki, pausing to take the cup from hishands and set it on the bedside table to be dealt with later. He thenset to the task of slowly and methodically ridding Kaneki of hisclothing. Uta begins with the zipper at the nape of his neck,dragging it down, down Kaneki’s spine and loosening up the cling oflatex and lycra and pulls away his shirt. Uta takes note of someplaces along that expanse of firm chest were places where Kaneki hadseemingly been injured and hadn’t been allowed to fully heal beforeinfection set it, his RC cells then knitting himself back togetherbut with the briefest of scars left behind. He says nothing despitethe boiling of worry in his gut and carries on with his task, settinghis sights on Kaneki’s shorts.

He tugs them off and all but peels theleg wear from Kaneki’s legs, leaving him naked on the bed as Uta goesto check the bath. After shutting off the water, he returns andushers Kaneki to the bathroom with little protest, Kaneki’s sore anddesperate body hungry for the warmth and cleansing of the water. Hedips his toes in and wiggles them around before plopping down intothe tub altogether, water sloshing over the edge to slap against thehardwood. A moan of satisfaction slips between chapped lips.

Kaneki hardly notices when Uta joinshim, only taking note of the movement in the water and the tangle oftheir legs as the other settles behind him, adjusting the pair ofthem so that Kaneki’s head is cradled in the nook of Uta’s shoulder,strands of his long hair tickling and teasing at his neck. Uta’s armslock around Kaneki’s middle, hands splaying flat against his hips andsmoothing down to trail over thighs.

They stay like this for anindeterminable amount of time, they stay until Uta thinks that Kanekimay have fallen asleep against him. He shakes him, gentle and woefulof reaping away the relaxation of sleep and the obscure fortitude ofdreaming, but he doesn’t want to let the water get cold before eitherhave properly been rinsed.

Uta reaches for his bar of shampoo,dipping it beneath the water and passing it between his hands in theopen air until suds cover him and the scent of cinnamon tickles hisnose. His hands are soft as they part and slip between shockedstrands of white, washing away the filth and ruin. When he dipsKaneki’s head under the water, pushing down and bracing him with asecure arm around his shoulders while the other rinses out soap. Theoil in the water has worked to coat both their hairs and Uta’s justabout pull the drain and forgo his own washing in lieu of rest whenhe feels warm, water-pruned fingers close around his wrist and restagainst his pulse.

He turns, finds Kaneki looking at himwith an almost fearful look, pleading shining in his murky eyes andbattling weariness for dominance in the wear of his shoulders. “I’dlike to wash you, if that’s okay?” He asks, voice clear despite theconfusion displayed in every other aspect of himself, and Uta findshe can’t resists him. He sinks back into the fading heat of the bath,waiting, and sighs when he finally feels those soft yet capable handscaressing through his hair.

Bitten and ragged nails dig at hisscalp and Uta’s pulse races, letting Kaneki sort out his own patternand feel for things. It isn’t long until cinnamon again cracklesthrough the air around them and those fingers are delving into acurtain of wet ink, smooth in their curious mapping of the shorn areaof Uta’s unorthodox haircut. Kaneki takes care in washing all thebubbles out, pulling the chain of the plug when he’s finished andstanding to wait for Uta to fetch towels.

Once they’re both dry and Uta’sfinished wringing out his hair, he sets to finding them both a freshchange of clothing. He tugs on a pair of briefs and tosses the soddentowel on the back of his desk chair before rooting through hisdressers. He tosses a black tank top and a pair of loose grey pantsat Kaneki that would have once been a tad too big and loose on himbut now fit better to the muscle he’s amassed. Uta catches himselfstaring and shakes his head, forcing himself to remember that heneeds to be more on guard than to let such musings flutter by, evenif this is Kaneki and every part of him yearns for the days offamiliarity and easy caresses. Uta dresses himself in a pair ofcharcoal sweats and plain white t-shirt, crawling onto the bed andsinking into his usual nest of blankets, sheets, and pillows. Kanekiswitches the light off and follows suit, snuggling up to Uta’s sideunder a flannel blanket and going so far as to press a light butlingering kiss to the hollow of his throat, just beneath the thicklettering of ink there.

“I’ve missed you, Uta-san,” Kanekiwhispers before settling further into the joint warmth of the blanketand Uta. Uta smiles, running his hand through wet hair and down afirm arm, tucking it into the fold of Kaneki’s waistband and holdinghim more firmly to him. Uta doesn’t no what Kaneki’s been up to orwhat brought him here, but he’s glad for it all the same. Glad toonce more feel the weight of him saddled along his side, breathfanning out evenly and teasing the skin of his shoulder and neck.

When he wakes the next morning,Kaneki’s side of the bed is cold and Uta isn’t surprised. He doesn’thave to check to know the half-ghoul is gone, once more nothing but amemory in Uta’s heart and a whisper the wind clings to.

…