A Budding Rose

Alone Time

Ken sat on the edge of his bed. Touka and Ichika had gone to the zoo with Hinami and Yoriko hours ago.

They didn't part ways with violent words-- the opposite in fact. Touka had kissed him goodbye, Yoriko hugged his leg and begged Ken to come with.

Yet the farewell felt turbulent, but it was a feeling only present to Kaneki.

He had spent these few hours alone hunched over a never-ending pile of United Front paperwork.

The words slowly began to blur before him. He could see the letters-- even make out some words, but sentences seemed to fade into dead ends. He couldn't find the point.

He couldn't find the point in the words he was trying to read.

He couldn't find the point in the work he was doing.

He couldn't find the point in why he was sitting there.

He couldn't find the purpose to why he was breathing.

Which is why he was now sitting on his bed, pressing his palms into his eyes.

His left eye throbbed with blinding pain. The entire room dissolved in the torment.

He could see Rise.

He could hear Jason laughing.

He could feel his limbs tearing from his body.

His chest was collapsing into him. No, his lungs were filling with a river of blood and guts. He scratched at his through to find the air again.

And as quickly as it started,

Everything faded.

He was sitting on his bed in an empty house.

He could see the dresser in front of him.

He could feel the soft sheets supporting him.

He could feel blood burning down his neck, down to his chest.

Everything was normal.

Wait--.

He put too fingers to his hot neck and brought it to his eye. It was red.

He felt the wound closing from the gashes he made, but the blood still stained it's skin as it made its way down his body.

He let out a long breath.

He wanted the pain to come back. Wished these attacks would come more. Because without the pain all he was left with was static.

Everything seemed undersaturated. Reading was difficult-- thinking was arduous.

He was an empty vessel.

A shell mascuretting as a man.

He wondered how much different this could possibly be from the realized grip of death.

He imagined it couldn't feel different than this hollowness.

'I wish I had died,' he thought. 'Beacause then I wouldn't miss the way the blade kissed my wrist, I wouldn't miss the sinkhole in my stomach when I stopped eating. I wish I couldn't talk about self-harm like it was a love poem from a lovesick teen.'

But wishing for things has never made anything actually happen.

So Ken got up, and washed the blood off his body. He put on clean clothes and found his way back to his work on the dining room table.

He had barely started to find the meaning inside the sentences scrawled on his page when the door opened.

"Daddy." Ichika ran into Ken's arms "Daddy, Daddy! I saw an elephant. It was really big. And a graph that was so big it could squish me."

"Do you mean a giraffe?" Ken asked.

"Graf?"

"Gir-affe." He said slowly.

"Giraffe!"

"Exactly."

Touka scooped their daughter in her arms and said "Did you get a lot done."

Ken rubbed his newly held neck.

"Yeah."