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The burn in his lungs counteracted the chill in the air as he buried himself up to his nose in a scarf some client had left in his office. Reigen surfaced long enough to exhale and take another slow drag, staring out at the skyline, waiting for the ache in his stomach to fade into something he could ignore. He was on the last hole in his belt, probably not a good sign. It was cold but he'd taken to smoking on the roof when he couldn't hold out any longer, usually in the mornings to help hold him over until dinner. Down to his last pack, he found himself rationing by halves, as if things weren't stressful enough, and he had to deal with cravings throughout the afternoon. Reigen finished, flicked ash into the cool breeze and after putting it carefully out, slipped the remaining half back into the pack, counting the cigarettes he had left. Always too few. Even if he had a good week he couldn't justify the cost. He would just have to deal with it when the time came.
But at least he wasn't hungry anymore.
The withdrawal he put himself through every night gave him insomnia. He was restless, unable to keep still long enough to even try to sleep as his traitorous body demanded its vice by turns. Reigen used the extra time to work, putting together material that would hopefully cast psychics in a good light, trying to undo some of the stigma that was taking his business. It hadn't worked so far, but if he didn't do something he would end up stressing himself out with numbers that never seemed to favor him. Which is where he found himself tonight, desperately trying not to think of the hunger gnawing a hole in his stomach, how he couldn't really afford to eat this week, or how his fingers twitched desperately for want of a smoke. If time passed any slower he was sure he'd go insane and he lurched to his feet, a wave of dizziness following behind.
“I’m going on a walk.” Said to no one, but hearing a voice in the dark silence helped ground him, even if it was his own. Wandering the streets at night became a common occurrence. The cold kept his mind off of the overwhelming need for a cigarette and the activity exhausted him enough so he could sleep at least a little.
He balanced the chronic exhaustion with coffee, too much if he was being honest, but it was always easier not to be. It was relatively cheap and without it he'd be asleep at his desk. Pushing a shaky hand through sweaty hair, Reigen cursed his last cup; his pulse was hammering in his throat and it felt like his heart was skipping beats. He closed his eyes against the rolling of his stomach, he needed to eat something, he just didn't have anything, probably wouldn't for a few more days. Water, maybe that would help. He stood too fast and the room spun wildly. Reigen struck out, blindly reaching for anything to prevent his inevitable descent, snapping out of it as his hand collided with something soft, horrified.
“I’m so sorry Mob,” still woozy, untethered, “I forgot to eat lunch today.” Reigen checked the kid’s face, tilting it back and forth to make sure there was no mark, patting him on the shoulder when he determined there was no real damage done. “Too much coffee.”
“I’m okay, Shishou. Accidents happen.” He looked worried in the way only Mob could. “You should eat.” Serizawa came to stand next to them, cupping Reigen’s face in one palm and narrowing his eyes.
“You look tired,” a frown placed a crease in between his brows. “Really tired, have you been sleeping?” The heart palpitations were back in force and he felt the blood rush to his face as he staggered, suddenly faint, Serizawa’s hands on his shoulders the only thing keeping him on his feet. “Sit down, head between your knees.” Reigen followed the clipped directions and closed his eyes, trying to calm his racing pulse. “Shigeo,” the muted clink of yen, “can you run to the corner store and get some crackers or something?”
“M’okay.” Reigen looked up, intending to stop him, and immediately regretted it, dropping his head back down with a groan. If he kept moving like that, he was going to be sick. He heard the door open and close, the only indication Mob had left. It was quiet as he focused very hard on not passing out. That wouldn't look good to his employees.
“What's going on?” Serizawa sat next to him, “you look really bad.”
“Tol’ you, forgot to eat lunch, too much coffee.” He swallowed thickly, “was stupid.” Reigen could feel that the man wasn't buying it. He'd have to give him something else and he sighed, irritated. “M’trying to quit smoking, haven't been sleeping well.” A half truth, but was it enough?
“That's good, but you need to remember to eat.” Successfully redirected, but the victory felt hollow. He wrestled with wanting to tell them and not letting them worry, they didn't deserve this burden. And he couldn't stand the thought of them leaving. No, he would keep this to himself. Things would pick up. A warm hand on his back and he almost couldn't take it. Serizawa was somehow too close and not close enough. “Think you can lay down? Shigeo will be back soon.” Reigen nodded, sitting up slowly and laying back on the cushions, the back of one hand over his eyes, counting measured breaths, Serizawa’s palm a warm, centering weight on his chest.
The crackers helped.
“Shishou, I brought some takoyaki to share.” Mob set the takeout container on the small table, hopefully unaware of the way Reigen’s stomach growled at the smell. “Have some.” It was the third time in a week. But Reigen supposed getting smacked in the face by your Shishou because he forgot to eat would give anyone a good excuse to buy take out. He’d started drinking tea instead. The cigarettes were gone, replaced by a headache, anxiety and a cough. But he'd manage. Like everything else, it would pass.
“Ah,” As always, Reigen was touched by the gesture, it further dissolved some of the tension in his chest, and he turned his hands loose to distract himself from the guilt. “Thank you, Mob. Serizawa, come join us.” They spent the rest of the afternoon coming up with plans to improve business, laughing as they rehashed old jobs and told stories. Reigen felt light, the food helped anchor him in the moment; things couldn't be all bad if he still had this.
That night he used his letter opener and a shoe to add a hole to his belt.