Just a pointless one-shot (that might not be a one-shot, actually), because it happened to be in my mind and I wanted to write it. Well, that's about it. Takes place after chapters 73/74, you've been warned. Kaneki and Ayato belong to our beloved Sui Ishida.
Shudder.
It's not raining anymore, though he can still feel the tiny, tiny droplets of water taken down the leaves by the frosty wind of this october night. He has found himself a desert area, not wanting to deal with anybody, human or ghoul. He watches his hands, half-covered by fingerless gloves. They are like new ones – it's always this way, it's normal. He is a ghoul, he is used to recover. But... not this time. This time is different. It's like he can still feel the pain, like he has forgotten how to move his fingers properly. So he watches his hands, more precisely his right hand as if witnessing something unusual. Yeah, he can still feel the pain, and that's fucking unbearable, and shameful, and unnerving. His mind remembers, while his body has erased the memory.
Ah, "half-remembered" pain, right? That bastard.
He smells someone nearby, and decides to go seek refuge somewhere else. His footsteps lead him to a car park, which looks more like a wasteland at this time of night. He doesn't know – maybe he was not paying enough attention, or maybe some kind of terror has prevented him to process the information in time – but there's a familiar scent in the air, and he doesn't turn back. He doesn't want to know why he doesn't turn back.
A flash of white hair glimmers in the artifical light, and clear eyes slowly look up to meet his own – dark like pools of blood.
"What the hell?" is all he can say, really. He stands still, wants to run away, wants to punch the fucking face until he is able to stick an entire fist into the skull, wants to fall onto his knees and beg for something, anything – but he can't.
"Yeah, good evening to you too, Ayato."
I can't believe it, I can't believe it, I can't believe it, this must be a fucking nightmare, please, please, tell me I'm going to wake up, please, don't make me, don't, I can't belie-
"What are you doing here? Aren't you planning your next big thing with the rest of Aogiri?"
-ve it, no, that, can't be, please, I want to disappear, please, let me go, let me-
"Or have you come all this way to get your revenge, maybe?" Kaneki stands up, and Ayato remains still, unable to breathe, to think, to move. Sweat is sticking to his skin, as he watches in dread the white-haired boy walking towards him.
"Hello?" he says, tentatively, a few meters away from Ayato – who is still looking at the spot where Kaneki was in the first place, trembling.
"Don't. Don't you fucking move." Ayato mutters, but can't resolve to face him.
Go away, go away, go to hell, leave me alone, just fucking leave me alone, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I ate you, I ate you in my dreams, I stuffed myself with your disguting guts, I ate you, and then I threw you up, because you're disgusting, you're, I hate yo-
"Alright, I won't."
And he doesn't. He just stays there, quiet, and the air Ayato breathes is poisoned by his mere presence, flowing like burning acid inside his lungs, inside his veins. What is he thinking? Is it pity in his eyes? Or regret? Or satisfaction? Or nothing? Ayato can't decide, and he can't look at Kaneki's face – doesn't want to. So, instead, he asks: "What are you thinking?" and that's about all.
"I'm sorry." comes the answer, and Ayato thinks he can't cry – no, he won't cry, he won't permit it, so why are there tears running down his cheeks? He feels nauseous, his nails digging into his palms and teeth gritting. Everything is spinning around him, and there is no way he is strong enough to make it stop. Why is he sorry? How dares he? He's just making it worse, because there shouldn't be place for regret when you act like a monster – if there is, then what does it make you?
"You fucking psycho. You're just a fucking monster, you..." suddenly, he's shouting with all his might. "You knew what I was doing! You knew what I was doing and yet you fucking attacked me like I was the monster! You said I was protecting my sister and you crushed me, while her body was still laying next to me! You had no reason, no fucking reason, you hear me? No. Fucking. Reason. You wanna be a hero? Wanna protect the good and the weak? Wanna fight the evil and the strong? You fucking do what you want! I'm not! I... -"
The rest is swallowed by strangled cries, and he has to spit before he is able to talk again. His eyes are now black, stained with bloody red.
"I just wanna protect her, I... I don't give a shit if you don't like it. This is not your fucking problem, freak. You can't judge me, you can't, you can't."
He is still screaming these words when his kagune is released and throwing deadly darts all around them, filling the air with concrete dust until his vision is totally concealed. When the fog clears up, Kaneki hasn't moved an inch – and it's sadness that Ayato sees in his eyes. Fucker. His biggest desire, right now, is to tear said fucker's throat apart, and then force him to speak, just to hear him gurgle and suffocate in his own blood. But his body betrays him and his knees give in, letting him fall on the ground.
He watches, powerless, as Kaneki gets closer and squats next to him. He reaches out a hand, an Ayato catches it, but only to twist the half-ghoul's wrist until he hears the bones crack and his nails dig in deep enough to draw blood.
"I said: don't you fucking move, you bastard."
"Do you fear me?" is Kaneki's response, and although Ayato doesn't say anything, his look speaks for him.
"I don't... want to hurt you, now."
Don't make me laugh is what the ghoul wants to reply, but the words that leave his contorted mouth are: "You are."
"Disappear." he adds, and Kaneki does.