disclaimer: i own nothing.

a/n: kimi disappeared after the trash tsukiyama's arc. unfair, i say.

a/n2: another piece of work typed after one am. i really need coffee for this kind of stuff. (and uh, here's some more nishiki/kimi, guys).

. . .

"Hey, Nishiki-kun,"

He grunts in reply—like always, she thinks, at least he listens.

(She's glad though because that means everything is going back to how it's supposed to be and nothing, nothing had changed between them even if she now knew that he's actually a—

…but she accepts him, didn't she? Human or ghoul—does it really matter in the end? Nishiki-kun is still Nishiki-kun, with her knowing or not.)

"I just realized that if you're a ghoul—" she had stayed with him long enough to see him flinching at the term, "then, that means you can't eat human food right?"

"Yeah, so?" He drawls with nonchalance wrapped and taped around his words but it's so obviously strained and tense and simply not him at all.

(Is he worried? Scared? Of her?

For her?)

"I've always given you my homemade cooking…"

He stiffens and she confirms that he knows what issue she is referring to exactly.

She states the question—no use in asking anymore, "You vomited them all out."

"W-Well—" He's cursing inwardly at his blunder now, she notices.

(When he stutters, she admits it's very unusual, impossible even, but it makes him much more human—real—than what a ghoul is said to be—mere monsters who slaughters and devours mindlessly like unsatisfied animals who hunts, hunts and hunts without a pause because blood and flesh is the only thing that drives them forward.)

She gives him a pointed look, something like a glare though not quite.

It may just be her imagination, but a squeak, high-pitched and barely noticeable, escapes from the depths of his throat.

She chuckles, darkly, and draws out each syllable of his name, "Ni~shi~ki~kun~"

"K-K-Kimi, you understand, right?" He backs away from her. A step. Two steps. "I can't exactly eat them so—"

"Do you know how much money I spent in buying those ingredients?" Her voice is deadly and stoic with a thin underlining of murderous intent.

And she thinks he is gulping in fear.

(It's absolutely hilarious but she's never going to tell him how much she feels, at that moment, like rolling on the floor, pointing at his face, guffawing because she's unsure if she's going to survive through that if it ever happens.)

"I'll pay you back then? Okay? C-Calm down, Kimi—"

Suddenly, the oppressing air of her wrath is gone—vanishing into nothing, which he is extremely grateful for—as she sighs and plops back down to where she previously sat, leaving him confused, dumbfounded and wide-eyed.

(Self-restraint, Kimi. Don't. Laugh.)

"That's… not exactly the problem though." She pouts, bottom lip jutting out and cheeks puffy, and he couldn't help but think that she's cute with her face like that, "It means that you lied to me when you say my cooking is good. They must taste pretty much like rubbish then…" she trails off. Disappointment tastes bitter on her tongue and is hard to swallow.

He relaxes, tension melting, and then, he's back to the Nishiki-kun she knows again, "Now that you know, I won't lie. It does taste like shit." The words are like punches to the gut and a slap across her cheek, "But honestly, it will taste pretty much the same to any other ghoul."

(Nishiki-kun does not know how to comfort a woman, she concludes.)

"On the other hand, you—" he turns to her, smirking, as he looks at her dead in the eye, "—are delicious."

This time, she squeaks and blushes herself crimson.

(She takes her conclusion back.)

He won't be able to taste her homemade dishes anymore, but well, she thinks that she can forgive him this time.

. . .

—end—

. . .

a/n3: ooohhh, nishiki/kimi's child will be a half right. hmmm, ehehehe.