57Back.
Hope you all like.
Damage
Brain Damage
Psychology
Psychologic damage
The tapping of a keyboard fills the living room. Hide sits at his desk, and has been for a long while now. He started with hope and a little desperation, but this has diminished considerably with each unproductive search on Google. He is growing more and more miserable at his lack of findings.
Hide had decided to not go the collage today. Well, he had only woken up fairly recently, and it's well into the afternoon. His decision to stay home is mostly due to circumstance. But, Hide knows, he doesn't want to leave Kaneki if he doesn't have to, and he can simply find a classmate who would be willing to catch him up another day.
Hide groans at his computer screen, and weakens to rest his head on his good hand. He stares at his screen with a dissatisfied frown.
He only turns away when he hears a stir from behind. Kaneki must be waking up. Hide takes a look over his shoulder and sees him move on the couch, unsure, before sitting up slowly. He looks like he still hasn't gotten enough sleep. He has only had about ten hours, Hide thinks with humour.
"Afternoon~," He says with a smile. Kaneki is still. His greetings are never returned. He suddenly feels slightly sick then, as he sits in front of a long history list of sites that strongly suggest he never will again.
Hide watches the quilt steadily slide from Kaneki's shoulders, revealing a dirty t-shirt. He then remembers the shirt hasn't been changed since he had taken his last bath.
Hide gets up from his computer. His fruitless research will have to wait, he supposes.
On his way across the living room and toward his bedroom he also makes a mental note to make some coffee for the freshly (half)awake man.
His room is dark with the blinds drawn, and he doesn't bother to turn the lights on for what is to be a quick trip to his dresser. And it is; he grabs a nice, clean shirt for Kaneki in a few decisive seconds, but he stalls on his way out. He sees the bookshelf, dark and slim, at the corner of his vision.
He walks to it, not exactly knowing why. With a blue shirt loose in his bad hand that still harshly aches, he brings his other to touch and read the spines of the many various books. Hide ponders the possibility of finding something here that might help Kaneki, like they used to, but he knows very well this possibility is slim to none.
This is the very bookshelf from Kaneki's apartment. It was one of the few things he fought to obtain when he heard Kaneki's things were to be forcibly moved away with a lack of rent pay. He insisted Kaneki would be back at first, and back then, he believed it. That had been four months ago.
Although the bookshelf was secured for Kaneki's benefit, it's presence had an effect on Hide as well. He somehow slept better with it in his room. He felt hopeful when looking at the titles, and remembering the times he had seen them in his friend's hands. Like he had one half of a happy picture, and he only needs to find the other. Hide had even attempted to read one, once, but it sits on his bedside dresser still; a bookmark only a few pages in, accompanied by a tear stain.
Hide walks from his bedroom, a shirt in one hand and a book in the other.
He puts the book on the now up-right coffee table, needing two hands. Well, one and a half, he thinks.
"Ok 'Neki, about time we change your shirt, right?" He says as upbeat as he can manage.
Hide remembers just how he got Kaneki to cooperate the first time, and he shows an almost mischievous smile. The quilt is fully removed, though Kaneki shows no sign of caring, nor noticing.
"Are you going to lift your arms up, or do I have to tickle you again?"
Kaneki dose nothing.
Hide lifts Kaneki's shirt as far as his ribs, and proceeds to lightly brush them with his fingers. In return, he gets a sound from the back of his friend's throat. Almost a snort. He gives more slow touches and Kaneki's shoulders rise away. It isn't long at all before Kaneki is sounding an awkward laugh and his arms are in the air to get the tickles to stop. Then Hide does stop, and quickly tugs the shirt over his head and drops it to the ground.
Getting the new shirt on is simple, and Hide hopes this make him more comfortable. But he won't know either way. It's a fact that brings stress and unease constantly. Hide is forever second-guessing his decisions. His decisions effect Kaneki, and he doesn't have the ability to speak about it at the moment.
Coffee, Hide remembers.
He walks to the kitchen. The kettle is full and steaming in minutes, in which Hide doesn't have much of a thought. He pours the drinks slowly, one mug and one plastic cup, and even waits for them to cool a little before attempting to bring them into the living room. He brings Kaneki's in first. His hand is still too weak. It may be hurting more than yesterday, in fact. Hide doesn't dwell on the thought for long. He wears a smile when sitting back down with Kaneki.
"Ready for some coffee?"
Like the time before, helping Kaneki drink goes fairly smoothly. In fact, Hide thinks Kaneki is even eager to drink, unlike twice before. His throat moves as he gulps and gulps. He finishes in a minute.
Hide doesn't comment on this to Kaneki, and simply puts the finished bottle on the coffee table. He's glad Kaneki appears to like the coffee.
The bottle sits next to the book. Hide frowns, hesitates, and picks it up.
He leans back into the couch more, and reads the cover. He moves it around in his hands; textured, thin, yet oddly heavy.
"Hey, Kaneki," Hide voices, leaning the book towards him, "I saved all your books, you know. Even the shelf. It was kind of a pain to get it up the stairs, though," He finishes with a small laugh, as if remembering the struggle in a different light. It's insincere.
The book stays slanted toward Kaneki, as if waiting for him to take. But perhaps that's exactly what Hide wants him to do. Take the book. Hide has been waiting for him to take the books for months, and now he's here. Hide has the other half.
Kaneki might have turned his head away, or maybe not. Either way, he doesn't look to the book. Until he suddenly does.
Kaneki turns his head, and his eyes land on the very close book propped in Hide's hand. Hide stills, unsure what the sudden motivation is. He hopes it's the book. Perhaps he did find one that helps, by some miracle. Maybe Kaneki knows it, recognises it like he did him.
Hide moves the book closer, subtly urging him to take. It takes control to be subtly, however, when he is desperate for Kaneki to do so.
Take the book,
Open it,
Thank him for it,
Smile at him over the cover again,
Kaneki, please just-
Hide's thoughts stall at a sudden drip, and he looks to the book. There is a damp circle on the cover now. Then another on Hide's fingers, coming from the head above. Hide can't see his face past the curtain of hair. Drip.
Tears?
"Kaneki?" Hide brings the book away slowly, "You ok..?"
Kaneki's gaze, from what Hide can see, follows the book as Hide moves it.
"Do you," Hide dares, "Do you remember it?" He puts the novel softly on the coffee table, and brings his hand to his lap.
Kaneki's head moves, but this time away from the cover, and Hide realises. Not the book- his hand.
Another movement from Kaneki, and Hide can see his face now. No tears. Drool, training from his lips down his chin. A drop falls on the couch, and Hide's blood runs a little colder.
Hide considers his options carefully, and surprisingly, he had a few. Number one option to get food for Kaneki was Anteiku, that little coffee shop run by ghouls. They must have ways of getting meat, or better yet storing it on the property. The thought of having dined in a place that may or may not be hording human meat unnerved Hide just a little.
There are problems with this though- some that will inevitably put him in harm's way. Hide isn't supposed to know about them at all. In fact, he suspects Kaneki's reluctance to tell Hide anything about being a ghoul is linked the their influence. Humans are a threat.
And god forbid they find out he works with the CCG.
It's too risky. He can't get hurt, or risk death. He needs to be here for Kaneki.
The second option was also Anteiku- stealing from them. But this, of course, would be just as risky. Even if he were to know where (or if) they horde meat, a ghoul's senses are superior. He may wake somebody up with the mere shift of a mug. Or something. He isn't sure how superior.
So, with a sickening stomach, Hide concludes with his third option- and his google searches got a lot less PG.
Suicides in Tokyo
Where are the most suicides in Tokyo
His searches are to the point he wants to get to. Blunt. His hands and heart feel heavier with each word he types, and his throat is dry as he scrolls. His body is strapped to his chair.
Kaneki is sitting on the floor, in front of the couch, behind him. Hide doesn't know if he's still staring. He hopes he isn't.
After skimming a few articles, and deleting his history twice, Hide leaves his computer with a muddled plan. A backpack is packed, and it's in a sort of sick trance that Hide finds himself at his door.
He glances to Kaneki.
"I'll be back soon," He says, quietly. He opens the door and walks into the dark.
He won't come back the same.
Hide wouldn't have seen it without his flashlight. The thought of tripping over it sparks memories of horror movie senses he used to love to watch, but this is very real. That fact holds no comfort.
His light shines on a crumpled body of a woman. Considering she got here from falling, or, Hide guesses, jumping off a cliff, her condition is less ghastly than he imagined. Her black hair is tossed over her face, something Hide is grateful for. He severely doubts a good night's rest tonight as it is, but to see to lifeless eyes staring through him as he stands in darkness. That may push him too far.
For a long while, Hide simply stands and gazes. It's with great force does he take a step forward. Sticks snap under his feet.
When he deems he is close enough, he kneels and places his backpack on the ground. It's large, perfect for the deed. Inside is a knife, the biggest one hide owns, clothes, a towel, and a lot of plastic bags.
Hide's breath shakes as he takes the knife out. He looks at it- clean, shinning. It's was made for cutting carrots and lettuce and beef perhaps. Tonight it will become stained.
The flashlight is on the ground, casting stage shadows over the body already at unhealthy angles.
Hide wishes no more harm upon this person. That's what this is- a person. Bent, dead, thoughtless, but a person. Her death is proof enough of the harm she may have already endured through life. Hide doesn't want to add to it. He looks to the ground, and wonders what her name might have been.
But he doesn't know her, and never will. Kaneki is hungry. He needs food, and he needs Hide to get it. He needs Hide. Hide can't let him down, can't let him suffer or hurt. Not again.
After a few more breathes, deep, slow breaths, Hide reaches his shacking hand to the cold one.
He stretches her arm from next to her torso out over the grass and leaves. After deeming it in the right place, and debating a good place to aim, he lifts the knife over his head.
He wants to say he's sorry, but if it gets Kaneki food, than he can't say he truly is.
He closes his eyes as the knife comes down on her elbow. The sounds of skin ripping like thin leather, of blood spitting, and of bone crunching not unlike the twigs under Hide's feet only a few minutes ago invade Hide's ears abruptly; and will do so for many day and nights to come.
Without looking, hide knows the blood has reached his hands. He can feel it. He's disgusted by it.
He looks to his doing, the knife still deep in her arm. His heart beats too fast, his breath shallow. And it's just begun.
He grips her upper arm, and with force he tugs the knife downward, ripping the skin and mussel and cartilage of the elbow. This makes the elbow only half attached, and the knife is free.
This time Hide looks as does this, and he gags. Blood is leaking onto the ground. He can see the inside of her arm- the ball of the bone especially.
He need to cover his mouth and look away. A few more breaths, and he can continue.
The arm is in half. Then he cuts the hand off. He puts them into plastic bags, ties the handles, raps them up, then puts them in his backpack. Only when he starts on the shoulder does he notice the tear down his face.
The shoulder is hard, and he resorts to pulling it off when he can. Blood mixes with the tears on his cheeks, and he needs to retreat to gag over the roots of a tree.
The next arm is easier, and Hide is self-conscience about that fact. This should never be considered easier, in any sense.
He's sweating now as he cuts half the arm from the shoulder. His hands are so coated with red he can't see his skin.
He tries a leg next. He cuts, and he sobs. He relives the leg of the knee, and then the foot from that.
It's then, bloodied clothes and hands, saliva pooled in his mouth from gaging, that Hide concludes he can handle no more. The bag is almost full.
He knows his clothes are beyond hiding or repair, and begins to strip to his underwear to change. He wipes himself down with the towel before putting clothes back on. He trembles throughout the procedure. He feels sick, and he's certain this will not change for a long time.
He wipes the knife clean last, and packs everything into his bag again. He can't afford to leave anything behind. This is a quiet thought and the back of his mind, however. His mind is in raging turmoil.
His trip back to his apartment is quicker than his way to the cliff. He doesn't stop for a break, and he doesn't feel the need to. He locks his bike in practised movements, as opposed to concentrating on what it is he is doing. He walks up the stairs in a trance, like his body is here, but his mind is still struggling at the bottom of the cliff.
It takes five tries to unlock his door correctly, and he steps inside.
The apartment is dark, but Hide only bothers to turn the kitchen light on when he gets there. His heavy bag is placed onto the island counter.
Hide takes a breath.
He doesn't quite know what to do as of now, not fully. He doesn't know how to feel. He doesn't feel relived at all, or accomplished. If he did, the hollowness in his stomach and the weight on his mind might expand.
Kaneki stands at the threshold of the kitchen and the living room. His eyes, predictably, are trained to the bag.
"Just, just give me a minute, Kaneki." Hide says softly, and still doesn't make to move an inch towards the bag. Kaneki, thankfully, stay still as well.
Hide take a minute to look at the man; white, messy hair, dark eyes, pale skin, sickly skinny body. He doesn't speak nor move much at all.
Then he does; Kaneki starts walking towards the counter, arm outstretched. Hide whips around the counter to block the path just in time. He holds Kaneki's shoulders tightly.
Kaneki looks past him, even as Hide tries to lock their gazes to talk. He pushes the words out as calmly as he can, but everything about the situation has become so seriously wrong. Hide feels dirty, and confused, and tired beyond thought.
"J-just a second 'K-Ken," Hide says, "I'll g-get you something to e-eat."
Hide turns to the bag, blocking Kaneki with his back. He reaches for the zip, and draws it open. He's met with a bloodied towel and clothes first, and then deeper, tightly wrapped plastic bags.
The nausea comes back in an instant. Hide feels Kaneki at his back, and pushes on. He takes out on package and puts it on the counter.
Should he just…give it to Kaneki? Should he cut it up more? Hide want's nothing more to do with it, wants to cut away the very memories instead, but he also doesn't wish to throw it to the ground like Kaneki is some sort of an animal.
Hide begins to un-rap it. He finds it's the upper-arm. The first arm he cut- he sees the rip he made down the elbow-
Hide steps away from the counter, suddenly in favour of the kitchen sick instead. He heaves and gags over it, even coughs. Nothing comes out.
By the time he turns, Kaneki is on the floor. Eating. Cold blood are on his lips and hands already. Hide only glimpses this before looking away quickly and covering his mouth.
Felling weak, he by some shred of lasting composer thinks to pile the rest of the meat in the freezer, and then, with duck-tape from an upper shelf, seals it tight.
He stumbles to his bedroom in the dark, and closes the door behind him.
Hide sits with his back to the door. Distantly, he hears Kaneki reach the bones.
Snap.
Crunch.
Hide sobs, and then cries on the floor. It's all too much. Never in his life has he felt so weak, so unsure, so disgusted and horrified at himself. He cries so hard he can barely breath. His eyes sting from the hot tears, and his jaw and chest hurt from the forceful sobbing.
Kaneki isn't getting better, Hide thinks, and sobs once more at the horrible fact. Hide doesn't even know what's wrong with him to begin with. His vague research only hours ago was proof enough. He was hoping it was brain damage- then it would only be a matter of time before Kaneki's regeneration would fix the problem. But now he's not so sure.
Will he ever speak again? Will he ever be stable enough to walk down the street? To make a smile?
Hide grips his hair in frustration. He grits his teeth.
He's doing everything he can. He can't do anymore, he realises. Is anything helping? Has he even done anything to help? He recollects the purchasing of a fucking sippy cup, and the tears become angry.
He's so useless.
The bookshelf observes from the corner. Hide glares at it. No longer does it bring comfort. It feels more like a taunting; of someone dangling Hide's hopes and wishes on a string just out of reach.
He has a restless night of nightmares with cold sweat.
I know there are a few mistakes, but the file with them fixed is on my other computer. It's dead and i left the charger at another place. I will fix them one day!
Please tell me what you think. That would be awesome.