Work Text:
“Do you want this apple, Captain?”
“You’re not going to eat it?”
“No, I’m full. But I wouldn’t want it to go to waste.”
“Ok, I’ll take it.” Gouda reached across the table and took the apple Mob offered him. “Thanks. I never feel like these school lunches have quite big enough portions, honestly. Are you sure you’ve had enough?”
“I’m sure. You’re a lot bigger than me though, Captain.”
“I guess that’s true.”
Mob had taken to eating lunch in the club room recently. He hadn’t really said why, and Gouda hadn’t asked. He wasn’t going to press Mob about it if he didn’t feel like sharing.
But he assumed that it was because Mob didn’t really fit in at any of the established lunch tables in the cafeteria. The lunch tables in public school cafeterias are like small, independent societies in and of themselves. And if you don’t fit in to any of those mini societies, there’s not much you can do to change that.
Funnily enough, that was exactly the reason Gouda didn’t eat lunch in the cafeteria anymore.
But none of that mattered, really. What mattered was that Mob ate lunch with him now, in the club room. He was happy for the company. And the extra apples.
“You know, you don’t have to call me Captain outside of club time.”
Mob blinked at him across the table, cocking his head a little to the side the way he did sometimes when he was thinking. Like a puppy, Gouda thought.
“What should I call you, then?”
“I don’t mind if you use my first name. All the rest of the club members do, anyway.”
“Ok, then, I’ll call you ‘Musashi-san’.” He smiled. A small, eyes-closed, chin-up, uniquely Mob smile. Exactly like a puppy.
Gouda smiled back. He tried to give as much positive reinforcement and reassurance as he could.
“Then, is it ok if I just call you ‘Mob’?”
“Yes, of course it is. It was very polite of you to ask though, thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Want some of this granola bar? It’s got almonds and vanilla yogurt in it.”
“Are you sure it’s ok to give me some?”
“Sure I am. It’s thanks for the apple.” Gouda broke the bar in two and held half of it out to Mob. “Here, take it! A growing boy like you should be eating more than just what they give you in one of these school lunches, anyway.”
“Ok.” Mob took the bit of granola bar and took a bite. “Thank you, Musashi-san.”
“You’re welcome.”
Gouda had never really had anyone to share food with before. It felt good. It somehow lent an entirely different atmosphere to the lonely club room, even having just one other person there with him. Perhaps it was because, by the simple virtue of there being two of them there now, they had the beginnings of their own small, unique lunch table society.
But Gouda didn’t know anything about any of that. He was just happy for the company.
“What did you get for number 9?”
“I got 24. Why, what did you get?”
“I got negative 12…”
Mob frowned, scratching his head. “Well, I think one of us went wrong somewhere.”
The two of them were at the library, sitting in two of those armchairs with attached rotating desks that all libraries seem to have. Various textbooks and notebooks were spread out around them as they struggled through a particularly difficult math assignment.
“Let me see your work,” Gouda said, sticking his pencil behind his ear and reaching over to grab Mob’s worksheet. “I thought I was right, but now I’m not sure...for all I know I could be totally off…”
“It’s probably me that’s wrong, Musashi-san.”
“Well, we’ll just have to compare notes until we find out for sure, won’t we?”
“Alright.”
Gouda had found Mob here nearly two hours ago, apparently having had the same study plans. And Mob was really glad he had, because if he had had to spend another minute staring at the incredibly unhelpful pages of the textbook all by himself, he would have lost his mind.
In truth, Mob’s math situation was not great right now. Well, he was struggling in all his classes, but math was particularly troublesome. He spent all his time after school either with his club or at his part time job, which meant he got home late and couldn’t really properly focus on his homework. Staying up late meant that he was often too tired to pay attention properly in class, and so he hadn’t learned very much recently.
His grades were starting to drop dangerously low. As in, fail-the-grade-and-do-it-all-over-again low. But it was sort of comforting to know that Gouda, someone he greatly admired, was in the same boat as him.
“I still don’t really understand how or when to use this formula.”
“Me neither. This book is terrible, isn’t it? Maybe we can ask the teacher before class tomorrow morning.”
“Maybe I should ask my brother...”
“Isn’t he a year younger?”
“Yes, but he’s much smarter than I am.”
Gouda shook his head. “No, you know what? We don’t need him. We can do this, Mob! We might not have the best track record, but we’re putting that behind us, starting now. There is no way we’re going to fail this test on Friday!”
“Hey, quiet in the library!” admonished a man in a suit,sticking his head around the end of a bookshelf nearby.
“Oh, sorry, sir! But,” he resumed in a whisper, “I meant it. If we work together, we can definitely pass this test. Are you with me?”
“I’m with you, Musashi-san!” Mob whispered back. He was always so envious of Gouda’s endless optimism, and the way he drew people to him so well. Mob hoped to be able to do that one day.
“That’s the spirit! By the way, I think I found where we split on number 9.”
“Oh, good.”
Gouda held up their papers side by side for comparison, and Mob leaned over to get a better look.
“Wait, so...which one of us was right?”
“I’m not sure, but I think we were both wrong? It seems like you had the right idea about this part, but you didn’t do this thing that I did.”
“Ohhh.”
“So the correct answer...where’s my pencil?”
“It’s behind your ear, Musashi-san.”
“Ah! Thanks, Mob. So if we do it this way...the correct answer is positive 12!” He grinned at Mob. “See? I told you we could do it if we worked together!”
“Hey!”
“Oh, sorry, sir! It really won’t happen again, I promise. Sorry. Come on, Mob, let’s see what we get for number 10…”
“I’m sorry, Musashi-san.”
“You don’t have to keep apologizing, Mob, seriously!”
“But you had to stay late after club just to look after me. Again.”
“It’s ok, really. How’s the bleeding now?”
“I think it’s stopped.”
They were in the boys locker room in the school gym. Everyone else had already left, so they were alone.
There had been some early snow this year, which had forced the body improvement club to take their afternoon runs inside the gym. Which was fine. As long as you didn’t trip and fall and smack your face into the hard floor, giving yourself a nosebleed.
“Your parents are going to think we’re bullying you.”
“No, they won’t. I’ll explain to them what happened.” Mob gingerly pulled a blood-stained tissue away from his face. “I think I’ll be ok now. Thank you for your help, Musashi-san.”
“Anytime, Mob. Ready to go home?”
“Yes.”
“Alright then, let’s get out of here. Hey, what did you make on the math test last week?”
“I got a 64, which is better, but still not where I’d like to be.”
“Still though, what an improvement! I got a 57. And I just know I got the last question wrong…”
They gathered their things and left the locker room, heading for the exit, talking idly about school and friends and nothing in particular. It wasn’t until they were practically at the door that Gouda realized that Mob was only wearing his school uniform.
“Hey, Mob, where’s your coat? Did you leave it in the locker room?”
Mob sighed exasperatedly. “No. Apparently one of my friends borrowed it yesterday and forgot to give it back.”
“So you don’t have anything?”
“Not right now. But don’t worry, I’ll see him later and I’ll get it back then.”
“What are you saying? It’s snowing out there, Mob! You can’t go out in the snow like that! Here, take my coat-”
“No, Musashi-san, I couldn’t do that-”
“I insist,” Gouda said firmly, shrugging off his winter coat and pressing it into Mob’s arms. “You’ve got to dress properly, or you’ll get sick, you know!”
“But if I take your coat, you’ll be the one who gets sick.”
“Don’t worry about me- I’ll just jog home. Keep the blood moving, and get home before I feel the cold. I live like, half a mile away, I’ll be fine.”
“But-”
“No more buts! C’mon, Mob, please? I can’t have any of my club members catching a cold, now, can I?”
Mob still looked uneasy, but after a moment’s hesitation, he put the coat on. It was way, way too big for him, of course; the sleeves hung down almost to his knees, and the hood covered half his face. He looked like a little boy trying on his dad’s clothes. It was adorable.
“Musashi-san, you always do so much for me. I don’t know how to repay you,” he said, peering out from under the hood.
“It’s ok,” Gouda said, trying hard not to burst into laughter while Mob was trying to be sincere. “You don’t need to do anything. Just, take care of yourself, and make sure you get your coat back, alright?”
“Alright. Thank you. You take care of yourself, too.”
It took Gouda seven minutes to get home, tired as he already was from their earlier workout and his feet numbed by the layer of snow on the sidewalk. When he finally got himself inside, his fingers and his ears were so cold that it hurt. But it had all been worth it to see Mob wearing his coat, he decided.
“Hi, Shishou.”
“Hi, Mob. Wait, what are you wearing?”
“Hanazawa-kun stole my coat, so Musashi-san lent me his. My club president,” he added, seeing Reigen struggling to place the name.
“Oh. Well, that was nice of him. Make sure you wash it before you give it back.”
“Yes, Shishou.” Mob didn’t want to take off Gouda’s coat. It was the warmest, softest, most comfortable thing he had ever worn in his life, he was pretty sure. But he also didn’t want to keep wearing it, since it wasn’t his. So he took it off and hung it neatly on the coat rack near the door.
“So, you gonna tell my why you were late today?” Reigen asked, his tone half accusatory, half actually concerned.
“Ah...Sorry, Shishou. I fell down and gave myself a nosebleed. Musashi-san helped me, though, so I’m fine now.”
Reigen scowled at Mob over the top of the newspaper he was reading. “Jeez, Mob, I can’t take my eyes off you for a minute, can I. You sure you’re ok?”
“Yes, I’m ok.”
“Alright. This club president of yours seems like a good kid.”
“He’s always taking care of me,” Mob said, sitting down in the chair opposite Reigen. “I’m very thankful for his help, and I like being friends with him. But I feel like I’m kind of a burden to him.”
“Listen, Mob,” Reigen said, lowering the paper so he could look his student in the eye. “Friendships aren’t built on keeping score. If he’s still hanging out with you after everything, then he probably just wants to hang out with you! So, all you have to do is be there, and keep being his friend.”
“Oh. Ok.” Mob smiled. He hadn’t thought about it that way. But it made sense, and it was a relief to think about it that way now. “Thank you, Shishou.”
“You’re welcome. Now, get to work, will you? Advice don’t come free.”
“Yes, Shishou.”
The snow cleared up after a few days, but the weather remained bitterly cold and windy. But the club room was warm and cozy, so Gouda and Mob continued their lunchtime routine. Gouda began to really look forward to his time spent with Mob, trading food from their lunches while the wind howled outside. It was a nice change of pace.
“Did you hear the news? They’re going to be holding a school dance in a few weeks, in the gym.”
“Oh, I did hear something about that. All the girls were talking about it in homeroom. It sounds like something out of an American movie.”
“You’re right, that’s exactly what it sounds like. But, who knows? It might be fun.”
“Maybe. But, aren’t you supposed to bring someone?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think you have to, but, maybe you should?”
“I don’t know either.”
Gouda shrugged, reaching for his water bottle. But he misjudged, or something, and sent the bottle toppling over the edge of the table by accident.
Quickly, he jerked his leg out of the way, anticipating a huge splash when it hit the ground...but it never did. The bottle froze in midair, and just hung there for a moment. Then, it suddenly reversed direction and flew upwards, over the lip of the table and into Mob’s hand.
Gouda blinked. “Uh….”
Mob’s eyes widened, as if he’d only just realized what had happened. “Oh, no,” he said very quietly.
“Did you...did you just do that?”
“Yes.”
“With your mind???”
“Yes.”
“Uh-huh…” Gouda looked back and forth from the water bottle to Mob’s anxious face. “Have you always been able to do that?”
Mob nodded. “I have psychic powers,” he said, as if it really were just that simple.
“Oh. Ok. Alright. Psychic powers. Ok then.”
“I try not to use them at school,” Mob explained, holding the water bottle out to Gouda. “Sorry, Musashi-san. I know it kinda freaks some people out.”
“No, no, no...I was just surprised, that’s all.” Gouda took back the water bottle. It looked completely normal. “But if it’s a normal thing for you then, it’s nothing to worry about. You’re really sure it’s nothing to worry about, right?”
“Yes. It’s normal. Are you...really sure you’re not worried about it?”
“Nope. Not me. I’m cool. If you’re cool, I’m cool.” He put the bottle down, as far from the table edge as he could. “It’s cool.”
“Oh. Ok then.”
“......Really though, the whole time?”
“Yes, really.”
“Wow. Ok. Cool.”
“...sashi. Musashi. Musashi!”
“Huh?”
“Are you ok? You were like, super zoned out there for a minute.”
“I’m fine.”
Yamamura raised one eyebrow like he didn’t quite believe him. “Well, if you say so.”
“What were you saying?”
“I was going to ask if you had made a decision about that second year girl who asked you to the dance, but from the look on your face I’d guess you’re still thinking about it.”
“Oh.” That wasn’t what Gouda had been thinking about. He’d been belatedly realizing that Mob had already had his psychic powers when he first joined their club, and that there was really no real reason for him to push himself as hard as he did, but that he did it anyway.
“Well, if you want my opinion, I think you should go for it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. She’s cute, and she seems nice. Besides, I think you’re the only one in our class who doesn’t already have a date.”
“Oh. Maybe you’re right.”
“I mean, unless you don’t want to go. But it seems like it’ll be fun.”
“Mmm.” Gouda rested his chin in his palm. “I guess you’re right.”
“So you’ll do it then?”
“Sure. Why not. It’ll be fun.”
The school dance really did turn out to be just like something out of an American movie. Probably because that was the reference point all of them used to prepare for it, but still. It was quite the sight to see.
The gym had been decorated with multicolored balloons and hand-painted banners. There was a table with several bowls of punch on it, and cups all laid out for the students to use. There was a dj playing popular songs from his station in the corner. The students all wore freshly pressed suits or sparkly sequined dresses. The chaperones all patrolled the edge of the dance floor, watching the dancers closely.
Mob wasn’t having very much fun. He had showed up even though he hadn’t managed to get a date, because his parents had said he should, and Reigen had promised there would be plenty of girls waiting for someone to ask them to dance. But everyone who wasn’t dancing was hovering around the edges of the gym in groups, talking and laughing and generally looking very uninviting.
Well...almost everyone.
“Hi, Musashi-san.”
Gouda, sitting alone in the middle of the bleachers, looked up as Mob approached. “Oh, hi Mob. What are you doing up here?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“Hmph. My date ditched me. She said I was boring.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. But don’t let me spoil your fun, Mob, go on and enjoy yourself.”
“I didn’t come with anyone,” Mob said, sitting down next to Gouda on the bench. “Besides, I think I’d rather stay here with you.”
Gouda smiled at him. His suit was too short for him, Mob noticed. “Thanks. That means a lot.”
“Of course.”
They stayed up there for a while. Mob lost track of the time. Around them groups of friends and happy young couples came and went, but they just sat there, talking and laughing just like they always did.
“Hey,” Gouda said suddenly, leaning in a little closer. “Hey, uh...do you want to dance?”
“Wh- me?”
“Yes, you. That’s what we came here to do, after all, and...I don’t know, I just suddenly felt that it would be a waste not to.”
“But, I-I don’t know how to dance…”
“Me neither. How hard can it be though?” Gouda shrugged. Even in the low light Mob could see a bashful blush coloring his cheeks. “But, if you don’t want to, then, just forget-”
“No, you’re right. We should try it at least once. Right?”
“Right. Right, yeah. Ok, let’s do this.”
Gouda stood up and grabbed Mob’s hand, heading down the bleachers and towards the dance floor. Mob let himself be dragged along, smiling. For some reason he was suddenly nervous- maybe because he really didn’t know how to dance, or because he was afraid of embarrassing himself, or because he was slowly realizing that Gouda was the only person he could think of that he really wanted to dance with, anyway- but he couldn’t seem to wipe the smile from his face.
They made their way down and out onto the dance floor. Mob didn’t recognize the song playing, but it was upbeat and catchy. Lots of other couples were out on the floor, clearly enjoying themselves.
Gouda turned around, still holding Mob’s hand. He was smiling, too. He held out his other hand, and Mob put his own free hand into it, and they smiled at each other.
Their dance was awkward, both of them stumbling over their own feet and trying not to run into each other and then laughing about it when they did.
“I think people are staring at us,” Mob said quietly.
“Let them,” Gouda said. He didn’t look around. He just looked at Mob.
And Mob looked at him.
And they danced.