Whenever their eyes met, he looked like any other socially awkward boy she'd seen. Insecure. Interested in that basic, fanatical male way. Not one to do a thing about his craving.
In those passing glances, she fancied she might have him figured out. That there wasn't much to figure out. That he was very normal.
But there were moments she'd catch him off guard. Or maybe it was the other way around.
Outside, seated on a bench near the entrance to the grocery store, she enjoyed her lunch and let her mind wander to the manuscript she'd been neglecting in favor of a busy work schedule. His neat black hair glinted in the sun as he crossed the parking lot, drawing her away from her tangent thoughts. She paused chewing.
An older woman was closer to the door, fussing with her purse. It fell from her hands and spilled its contents on the pavement. The boy jogged up to her automatically and dipped down to scoop her things back into the bag.
He handed all of it over with nothing but simple kindness in his expression. In fact, it was as if he had no identity. He was only his kindness. Undiluted. Fundamental.
The woman thanked him profusely, and he dismissed these thanks, insisting that it was not even an inconvenience. He was happy to help. The girl on the bench didn't doubt his sincerity.
She noticed that, though his physique was distinctly unathletic, his movements were sure and dutiful and unselfconscious when he was helping another person.
The rice had turned to slimy glue in her mouth. She remembered it and swallowed in distaste. It went down with the lump in her throat.
She watched as he filed after the woman into the grocery store, but he never looked over. Perhaps he hadn't regained possession of his body yet. Perhaps it was still under the influence of that angel of servitude which had swooped in and made him so much more interesting. So much more complex and tantalizing.
Her eyes drifted down to the watch on her wrist. Her break would end in less than a minute, and she'd hardly touched her lunch. She rubbed the watch face with her thumb and recalled the boy's transformation. Oh well.
She gathered her things and wandered back inside, absently hoping he'd check out at her register.
She kept an eye out for him after that. It's hard to ignore a light so humble and so bright.
YOU ARE READING
The Dead, Our Bread (Ken Kaneki x OC)
FanfictionWhat if Ken Kaneki had been taken under the wing of an organization other than Anteiku after undergoing his transformation into a half-ghoul?
