I'm not Yours, I'm Mine

He refused to turn on the lights and instead packed with in pitch black, even keeping his curtains closed from the streetlights. None were to know just what he was about to do, at least not for a few hours. Just a few hours - he needed just a few hours.

He couldn't be a pet any longer.

The only light came from the digital clock that read 4:00am. It was midnight when first woke with ragged breath and hot tears. A pulse thumped and demanded his attention, drowning out his own breaths. His skin still gleamed with sweat, he noticed when he dragged the back of his hand against his forehead. Choked on the lump in his throat, he ran sick to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before retching. And the pulsing wouldn't end. It came in waves. When he thought they would ease, moments later they intensified tenfold.

And he couldn't stop crying.

Even now, they blurred his vision as he mused on just how much he would lose. Would the kids ever forgive him? Mutsuki would, or so the ghoul hoped - he could never hold a grudge. Urie was a lost cause. Nothing could change his mind, except maybe Shirazu. . . But Shirazu would never forgive him. And Saiko - he hoped she would forget about him. He could imagine her eyes, a storm of emotions, innocent and teary-eyed, nothing like his own dull, glaze gaze as tears dripped. He would miss them.

Akira, he thought, would at least understand. After all, she gave him the final piece to reclaim his memories.

In the long hours of the night, he avoided thinking of Arima at all cost. But as soon as he set forth his plan, the man's hard glare came to mind in the silence of the pulses. Each pulses was like another memory - his mother's smile, then dad's books, Touka swatting him across the back of his head, and then a pulse of building sand castles with Hide.

Hide. That's why he was doing this: for Hide. And himself, of course. He deserved to have his body back.

But his heart ached where his fingers couldn't grasp deep in his chest. Would Arima feel the same once told Haise took off in the night with no explanation? Would the pain in his chest follow the same rapid beat of his own heart, dreading the worst and being unable to do anything about? Or would there be nothing? And when they finally met again, would those be the same eyes that he had come to know?

He touched his cheek, ghosting the patch where Arima's hands had been only the day before, a little too rough, caressing dry skin then ruffling his hair. "A little more time." But then he remembered the grip at his shoulders with nails that ripped through skin. And then the man was gone without explanation, a ghost. A Shinigami. One touch is enough like a shot of fire whiskey, but that didn't mean people were smart enough to stop at one. Arima wrapped him in security, whispering sweet nothings of the days that would never come. "Just a little more time," he hummed on his love's skin. He had the means to caress, but then came the day Arima snapped. When weak the Shinigami left anything in his path a mess, and he tore down the people who loved him the most.

He worked faster, placing folded shirts and toiletries in his pack. His cheeks were hot, and exhaustion showed in his sloppy movements, but he refused to stop. Enough was enough. He wasn't for someone else to undress and pull apart for their own means.

"A little more time." Lies. So many sweet little lies sung at the shell of his ear of better days. But nothing changed. In fact, everything reverted back. The death god remained as the death god. And Haise - . . . Haise wasn't there anymore. Instead stood Kaneki, hair still two-toned, but eyes much duller than Haise's. His hands were softer, less calloused, than before, but that will be fixed quick once on his own again. Still his body, he thought. Now to finish taking it back.

Zipping the pack closed, he bore the backpack over his shoulder and took each step down the stairs with care so as to not wake his team. The Quinx wouldn't understand, he knew, why he could never stay, why looking at Arima again would break his already fragile mind. If they knew, it would destroy them, and they would realize what he was planning to do and stop him in their emotional turmoil. Kaneki couldn't deal with that, not now.

And so he tousled his hair, dragging back the strands the fell in front of his eyes. If anyone was close enough to see, they would notice the shine, the dullness in his eyes and simple gleam of threatening tears. But of course, Kaneki stood alone at the door to his home for three years. Or prison, he thought morbidly. A part of him wanted to turn around, to make noise so the Quinx would stop him, maybe to confront Arima about that night in V14 instead of running. But at the same time, he knew he would never get this chance again. They - no, Arima, would never let him leave once he suspected. He'd play his cards just the right way like he always did, threaten anyone who touched what was his, and Kaneki would owned for the rest of his life. No, he could never stay.

"I'm not yours. I'm mine."

Kaneki opened the door and didn't look back.

Inspiration from "Slacks" by St. South. Those who head read "Amnesiac" by me will know I've compared Haise to an animal before. I wrote this mostly because I'm in a bad mood and just thought writing this would help. I made this Arisasa so as to make the song fit a bit better, however I don't ship it all that much.