kaneki ken. cuteness, simplicity, airheadedness. a latte on the house when his date with rize ends in disappointment. samples of various roasts in tiny cups with rabbit ears, and well-cracked book spines, and passages underlined in pencil. shy, flirting marginalia. hanging out all the time without realizing it, and also being the last people to realize that they’re dating, like, hide and anteiku and literally all the rest of the humans and ghouls in tokyo figure it out way before either of them.
kuroneki. cuteness, slightly less simplicity, “doing your best.” kaneki settling into his brand new scary half-ghoul life but realizing that with touka around, he feels…at home, more than he thought was possible before. fortresses of coffee cans columned in their manga cafe booth, and purikura stickers hidden in her order pad, and amusement park tickets used as bookmarks. roller coasters; touka clutching kaneki’s hand in terror and afterwards sitting and cradling her head while he pats her back. walking with pinkies linked when people aren’t looking, and kaneki trying to describe what burgers and french fries and parfaits tasted like.
shironeki. PAIN, pAIN, PAIN!! more hurt than comfort, and more bad days than good, for a long time. teeth-grit silence and wordless tears and loud, loud nightmares. kisses that are sometimes biting sharp and sometimes stab even more for their softness. tight embraces locked with nails. when things finally finally finally begin to even, it’s warm bodies pressed tight together beneath cold blankets. pluming breath. late, late mornings. staggering to the kitchen wrapped up together in the same blanket. the coffee machine rattling in time with the drumming of rain on the window and against the laundry outside.
haise. waiting, and impatience, and pining. invisible chasms, widening with every day skipped into them. the incredible strain of taking one’s own smile and crushing it into a palm. the way the tiniest things in an instant can hit like a wave, toppling, body-numbing. an overflowing coffee pot. the pinprick heat of a spilled droplet. steam condensing on his glasses. the flick of hair falling back into place immediately after being brushed away. the way the smell of coffee follows him home and into hazy dreams, and her desire to remove his hand from his chin so she can cradle his face and draw it close to hers.