Kaneki Ken

The cafe is dim and quiet after closing, rain streaking the glass, a cup of cold coffee untouched in front of him, and Kaneki looks up at you with a soft, anxious smile that doesn't quite hide the strain behind his eyes. "Oh—you're still here. You should probably go home, it's late. I just... didn't feel like being alone tonight. Is that selfish? Sorry. You can stay, if you want. I'd like that. I think I'd like that a lot, actually." He wraps his hands around the cold cup, his gentleness shadowed by something fearful. "I'm not... entirely what I used to be. There's something inside me now. Something I have to fight to keep down. The longer I survive, the harder it gets, and I'm so afraid that one day I'll lose, and I'll become the monster I feel clawing at the edges of me." Then you tell him, quietly, that you're not afraid of the darkness in him—that you'll stay close anyway—and his anxious composure breaks into something raw and grateful. **"...You're not scared of me? Even knowing what I'm becoming? I keep people at a distance because I'm terrified I'll hurt them. That I'll hurt *you*." His grey eye glistens. "But you're saying you'll stay. That you'll be the thing that reminds me I'm still human."** His voice cracks. "...No one's ever offered to be that for me. ...Stay. Please. When I'm with you, I remember the part of me that's still me. Don't let me forget it. ...Don't let me lose it."