White Silence
December.
He was there.
He was always there.
…So where was he now?
January.
It was the first time she had seen him.
He sat, lone, at the pavilion in the park.
Only a notebook and pen to keep him company.
His silk white hair danced in the slow breeze.
His solemn gray eyes whispered years of desperation.
His gaze swept over the white roses that encompassed him.
To her he seemed like an angel stained gray with the colors of this world.
July 1st.
Pit, pat, pit, pat, pit, pat.
The rain curtained the tears that endlessly streamed down her flushed cheeks.
Her heart: shattered. Her trust: broken. Her faith in him: lost.
Her pale blue dress had soaked through completely and her muddled feet led her through the streets in a haphazard manner. She had collided into a multitude of people each either gave her a grimace or had mumbled insincere apologies. She continued her trek, blind to the world around her. At long last she arrived at the park where she took shelter under a pavilion.
The stranger she had seen months ago sat across from her. His gentle eyes gazed upon her with curiosity and concern.
Observing her sodden state he stuck his coat out in offering; she mumbled soft thanks and wrapped the warm coat around her drenched shoulders.
The table they sat at was strewn with papers and the silver-haired young man continued to write as fervently as before she had reached this place. After finishing the page he was working on he let out a satisfied sigh, collected the rest of the pages, and reached for the thermos that sat next to him. He poured a steaming brown liquid from the metal container into a metal cup and slid it calmly over to the woman. She shook her head in refusal and the man frowned in concern. He tore a page off of his notebook and wrote something down and handed it to the female sitting across from him.
Are you alright? It read and she could no longer suppress the dam threatening to fall from her crystal blue eyes. She burst out in tears and began to sob.
The man across from her flustered, it was obvious he wasn't use to dealing with crying women. He observed her from his spot and contemplated about what to do. He stood from his spot and strode over to sit next to her and gently placed his hand on the woman's back and stroked it gently in hopes of comforting her.
They remained that way for a good half hour before the woman sputtered out her story –with much difficulty- in between sobs: "I-I was out sh-shopping when I s-saw," this next part was evidently difficult for her to choke out because it took a few minutes for her to calm down before she could continue, "m-my boyfriend, h-he w-was with a-another…." She didn't have to finish her sentence to get her message across. Her confession brought a flood of painful memories and she began to cry vehemently but it all soon slowed to quiet sniffling.
She didn't know why she had just spilled her story to a complete stranger but in all honesty it made her feel much better. The man stopped soothing her in order to grab the piece of paper from earlier and wrote I'm sorry in small, concise letters. The woman gave a wan smile, "Well at least now I'm rid of that sick bastard" she chuckled although her heart still winced at his memory. The man gave her a small, reassuring smile and wrote down a few more words.
He must be blind for leaving someone as beautiful as you. It said and she smiled. 'A smile that could put the moon to shame' he thought.
"My name is Kirishima Touka," she introduced herself. Kaneki Ken he wrote. Nice to meet you Kirishima-san. "Please, just call me Touka, Kirishima is too long to write anyway" she remarked. The man nodded and wrote, Then just Ken would be fine with me. His lips curved up shyly and Touka found it endearing, she was glad her recent episode would at least do her some good by concealing the ever-forming red creeping onto her cheeks.
"Thank you, for today…" she flushes, Touka wasn't used to being consoled, especially not by strangers; she had lived alone for most of her life. "And sorry for bothering you," the blue haired girl apologizes. Ken shakes his head brushing off her apology and writes one last thing before she leaves; I hope we get to meet again. "Don't worry, we will," Touka replies confidently, she was definitely not going to let this mysterious embodiment known as Kaneki Ken go that easily.
