The Rose and the Centipede

Forgetting is Null

She could feel pressure against her shoulder along with a sharp stinging of disinfectant against her skin. Why would she need it there...?

Images of the altercation in the alleyway slowly drifted back into her mind and Hanami barely suppressed a soft moan. That's right. I was attacked by a ghoul and then...

A silver-haired figure dressed in black saved her life.

Hanami forced her eyes to flutter open and the pressure at her shoulder paused. She slowly turned her head toward where the pressure was coming from, only to shoot upright with a gasp.

The silver-haired figure was there, a mask over their face that seemed so close to what she thought Frankenstein would look like, with a lipless mouth unveiling gnashing teeth and bolts on either side of the neck. The shock overtook the pain and Hanami doubled over, pressing a hand to the bandages that covered her shoulder.

The figure remained still as a stone as Hanami took in her surroundings. The light blue walls with photo strips tacked onto their surface, the desk with papers and notebooks strewn upon it; it was her apartment. How did this person even get them inside? Hanami's inner question was answered when she caught the gleam of her keys on her desk. He must have got them from her pocket while she was unconscious.

Hanami's eyes shot to the figure when she felt a hand press against the bandage carefully, the ice cold focus on making sure it was in place sending waves of chills down her spine.

"Were you the one who was watching me?" asked Hanami softly, dropping her hand from her shoulder. "There was no way anyone was close enough to hear me..."

She was about to avert her gaze, but a gloved hand pressed against the curve of her cheek, the pressure having her turn her eyes back to the masked stranger. She could see the unveiled eye much more closely now, the grey iris fixated on hers. It was cold, but there was something akin to a softness that was familiar.

Hanami had seen that kind of gaze before.

Their thumb slowly stroked her cheek, the glove surprising soft against her skin and Hanami kept her eyes fixed on the stranger. Her heart galloped wildly in her chest and she was afraid that if she blinked, if she broke this moment, this stranger would disappear.

The stranger spoke then. "Your eyes are still so pretty."

Hanami's heart froze in her chest, her eyes widening. She recognized that voice; it was much deeper, colder than she remembered, but she'd recognize it anywhere.

Her mind went back to that day when he first said that to her, with an embarrassed blush on his cheeks during one of their conversation. It was when he really looked into her eyes.

"Your eyes are really pretty."

The hand slowly left her face as he retreated from her, the touch still warm on her skin, before Hanami found herself trying to get to her feet, only to stop herself when she saw the splint of her ankle. "Wait," she called, her eyes on his retreating back.

He stopped, but didn't face her. Hanami's heart kicked back up again, hope blossoming in her chest, as she placed a hand against her bandaged shoulder. The silence was total, but he was waiting for her to say what she needed to. She could tell that much.

"It's you, isn't it?" murmured Hanami, feeling tears prick at her eyes. Her voice rose an octave, shaking from the inevitable torrent of tears blurring her vision. When turned back only slightly, Hanami couldn't see his eye from where she sat on her bed, but she had to know.

"It's you, right, Kaneki?"

He didn't move for the barest of heartbeats, each second dragging on its own eternity. Then, he raised a hand to his mask, tugging at the mouth before she could faintly hear a zipper being opened. Hanami was about to get to her feet, her uninjured foot touching the cold floor, before he spoke again.