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The ability to feel is nothing new to Mob. True, he doesn’t express himself as openly and flamboyantly as a certain conman in his life, but he can still experience emotions. It’s just that sometimes he can’t put a word or face to what emotions he’s feeling exactly.
When Tsubomi rejects him, Mob finds himself feeling nothing. Not happy, not sad, simply accepting. Tsubomi doesn’t like him like that. It’s simple. As he makes his way out the park and back towards Reigen, something bubbles in him and pushes to the surface. His voice cracks slightly as he explains how Tsubomi had turned him down and, eventually, that “something” presents itself in hot tears streaming down his face and quiet sobs. But even as he walks away with Reigen placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder, Mob is unsure on what he feels. Sadness, perhaps, and maybe relief. Maybe even a slight spark of happiness or optimism. He just knows not to fight it, and he gives himself the benefit of showing the world what he feels.
After confessing to Tsubomi, life seems so different yet very much the same. Mob’s friends still tell the same stupid jokes, his teachers still give him the same scoldings about his habit of sleeping in class, his days still pass by as normally as before. But each day seems so much more vivid than before.
Mob wipes his forehead and quietly sips from his water bottle before reaching for the school uniform in his bag. He pauses briefly and grabs his phone first, checks the time and sees that club activities had ended half an hour later than usual. Mob shrugs and changes clothes quickly before heading home, but not before bumping into a familiar face.
“Kageyama-kun? Is that you? I had something unexpected after school, I thought for sure I’d miss you,” Teru calls out cheerfully, school bag swinging underneath his arm and hands casually tucked into his trousers. Mob glows at the sight of him, and they wordlessly begin to walk home side by side. It doesn’t take long before Teru starts rambling about the latest drama in his school and how immature people can be sometimes, and eventually topic after topic flows between the two of them. The conversation is painfully stilted towards Teru, but that’s the way it’s always been. Teru is the type to talk, and Mob is the type to listen.
Mob doesn’t remember the context of the conversation, but something Teru says is so funny to him that he can’t help but laugh. He turns his head away (he doesn’t want Teru to think he’s laughing AT him) and it’s a quiet, unpracticed laugh: a little airy with no voice behind it, as though Mob was dusting away the years of disuse and gently working out the kinks within it. Mob turns back to Teru and realizes he’s staring with wide eyes, a smile playing at his lips. Mob can’t help but feel his face flush when he realizes he’s smiling too. It’s not a bad feeling.
“Kageyama-kun, was that what I think it was?” Teru playfully pokes at Mob’s side, and Mob laughs again, louder this time. Teru beams at him with warmth in his eyes, and Mob’s heart is full.
The rest of the way home is pleasant and full of banter and laughter, and Mob feels as though he’ll remember that day for as long as he’s alive.
Experiencing each day more vivid than before comes with its ups and downs. Just as how some days are joyful and exciting, some are painful and suffocating.
When he first experiences it, Mob is nestled in bed. His day had gone smoothly enough; nothing out of the ordinary had happened, except that he could keep up with the Body Improvement Club a whole minute more than usual. He turns to lie on his side, arm under his head, and is ready to sleep when he feels something deep inside him stir. He can’t put a name to it, and a part in the back of his brain doesn’t want to put one to it. Maybe if he ignores it, it’ll go away, Mob thinks to himself.
It doesn’t. Instead, it grows and gnaws away at him, leaves him on the verge of tears but at the same time empty and hollow inside. He’s not sure what he’s feeling. It feels like there’s a fog permeating through his mind. Anxious? Uneasy? He just wishes it would stop. It curls around him and paws at him, leaving goosebumps on his skin, and suddenly everything feels too constricting yet too loose at the same time.
He tosses a few times and wipes his palms against the futon—when had his hands gotten so sweaty?—all to no avail. Mob realizes his breaths are coming out short and shallow, and even under his blankets, he can’t help but shiver. He can’t think straight. Water, he thinks to himself. I need water. Mob shifts slowly out from under the covers and quietly shuffles downstairs, fills a glass, and sips it slowly and focuses on how cool it feels as it slides down his throat. He quickly thinks through his day and wonders why he feels the way he does. Nothing sticks out to him specifically, but suddenly he remembers the boxcutter that someone had playfully pointed at their friend in class and he remembers dreary skies, shaggy purple hair, and days full of loneliness and unfairness.
Ah, Mob thinks to himself. He wonders why it’s getting to him now.
As he makes his way back to his bedroom and climbs back under his covers, Mob wills himself to think only about the good around him, how the Spirits and Such Consultation Agency is bustling with life and how often he’s gotten to see Teru lately and how Ritsu’s been buying him a lot of snacks the past week. Again he feels tears pricking at the corner of his eyes, but he stops them from falling.
He eventually falls into an uneasy sleep full of nothing and everything at the same time.
Those nights are sparse and in between, but Mob is left drowning each time it happens.
This time when it happens, Mob doesn’t think to stay buried under his covers. Instead his mind goes straight to Ritsu, and without even realizing Mob finds himself in front of Ritsu’s room wrapped in his blanket. His throat tightens, and he reaches out and knocks on the door gently once, twice, and before he can knock a third time the door opens with a quiet creak.
“Nii-san?” Ritsu curls his sentence as if he’s asking a question, but with one glance at Mob and the unadulterated distress on his face, he doesn’t need an answer. He reaches out and pulls Mob into a tight hug, as if he’s trying to crush whatever’s inside of Mob that’s making him so sad.
“It’s okay, nii-san. Just let it out,” Ritsu rubs Mob’s back slowly but with a slight bit of pressure, just enough to push Mob forward and into the embrace. Tears begin to stain the blanket, and Mob sniffles heavily so that his snot doesn’t rub off on it too. He gags and ends up hiccuping, and he doesn’t know if it’s because of how tight his throat feels or because of how grateful he is for such a caring and understanding brother. He can’t put a specific name to the despair he’s feeling, as if every time he tries to pin it down it slides out again from underneath his fingertips.
They stand there for a few more minutes with the only sound coming from the quiet ticking of the clock in Ritsu’s room. Mob tries to think of what to say but he can’t. Instead, he slowly backs out of Ritsu’s hold and nods at his brother. Mob tries to smile and mumbles a quiet (yet sincere) thank you before heading back to his room. Ritsu watches Mob from his doorway, as though he’s afraid Mob would suddenly give out from underneath himself and fall apart.
When Mob’s back in bed, he lists all the possible things he could be feeling. Regret. Sadness. Melancholy. Ruefulness. None of the words perfectly fit the beast he hopes to describe. His mind wanders to the warm touch of his brother’s hand on his back, and Mob thanks whatever being is in the sky for having people by his side willing to anchor him in place. He falls into a heavy and dreamless sleep that night.
The next morning, Ritsu insists on walking with Mob to school. He usually heads out first due to student council duties, but the way Ritsu begs Mob leaves Mob unable to say no to him. The gentle breeze as they walk threatens to ruin Mob’s hair that he had so carefully combed down that morning, and by the time they reach the school gates, his hair is ruffled and his cowlick is sticking up again. Ritsu laughs and brushes it down again with his fingers before they part ways to head to class. This time, Mob knows what he’s feeling: gratitude. He mentally makes a note to himself to cut some fruit for Ritsu after school that day.
Mob finds himself fidgeting with his fingers as he sits at the edge of Teru’s bed. They had agreed to have a sleepover Friday night, but Mob can’t help but feel a little nervous (maybe even giddy) at the idea of it. After all, in his fourteen years of life, he had never been close enough to someone to really indulge in such privileges. He’s thankful that Teru was nice enough to casually suggest the idea himself so Mob doesn’t have to.
Teru comes walking back into the room with two bottles of soda (Mobtain Dew, Mob notes) and potato chips tucked under each arm. He also has his phone tucked under his chin, and Mob wishes he could take a picture of how ridiculous Teru looks. Teru lifts his chin and lets his phone fall on the bed before tossing some chips and a soda bottle to Mob, and soon Teru has a cheesy superhero movie going on his phone.
They sit side-by-side cross legged on the bed during the entire movie, and Mob swears that with each passing minute Teru is leaning down more and more until eventually his head is in Mob’s lap. The movie’s perfect, the soda slightly flat in the best way, but Mob’s mind isn’t focused on what’s happening around him. He feels himself choked up over nothing in general, and he slowly grabs a fistful of the blanket behind him, unclenching and clenching over and over again in an attempt to calm himself down. It’s nowhere near as intense or heavy as what he feels sometimes at night alone, but it’s unsettling all the same. He doesn’t want to ruin the night for Teru, so he stays quiet.
“Hey Kageyama-kun, we don’t have to watch this movie if you don’t want to.” Mob hadn’t noticed, but Teru’s sitting up again and looking at him with concern in his eyes. His hands are gently intertwined with Mob’s, and Mob focuses his eyes again to meet Teru’s gaze. Teru squeezes his hand, and Mob squeezes back. “You okay? You seem kind of… off.”
Mob lets out a shaky breath and shakes his head. Again, he’s run into a wall. What does he tell Teru? He was just feeling a little sad over nothing? Distressed? He wants to tell Teru something, wants to finally express all the emotions flowing through him eloquently and in words, but he can’t. Teru catches on, and from there it’s like a game of guess.
“Do you need to go home?” Mob shakes his head.
“Do you want to keep watching the movie?” Mob hesitates a bit, and shakes his head again.
“I guess it’s getting late, how about we head to sleep?”
Mob nods his head and quietly utters, “I’d like that. Sorry, I’m just a bit tense right now.” He can’t help but feel surprised at the fact he’s able to put a word to what he’s feeling. It’s not perfect. It doesn’t capture the full spectrum of emotions Mob is feeling, but he’s glad he said it as he watches Teru relax his shoulders.
The minutes they spend getting changed are spent in a comfortable silence, and by the time they’re both getting ready to brush their teeth, he’s already feeling better. Mob playfully squeezes the tube of toothpaste as Teru methodically portions a dollop on his brush, and toothpaste flies onto Teru’s hand. He giggles at the sight of pure shock on Teru’s face and accidentally snorts, and soon both of them are trying to hold in laughter. Mob is sure that the emotion he’s feeling right now is contentment.
Teru’s bed is big enough for the two of them, and they end up lying in it together. They mumble about whatever comes to mind, and Mob finds that it’s easier to react to the stories Teru tells. He smiles effortlessly at times and finds himself frowning and furrowing his brows at times when Teru mentions a particularly weird detail. Soon the conversation sputters out, and they both shift a bit to get comfortable and sleep. Teru closes his eyes in seconds, but Mob continues to look towards Teru through heavy eyes.
He looks at the pale hair touching the bridge of Teru’s nose, and Mob feels nothing but adoration for the boy lying next to him. His hand trembles as he tries to think of a way to express to Teru just how much he means to him, and Mob eventually settles on lightly grazing the tips of his fingers across Teru’s jawline before resting them in the hair that frames his face. Teru hums lightly in appreciation before moving out from underneath Mob’s fingers to cuddle closer towards him, burying his face into Mob’s chest and wrapping his arms around him. Mob swears he can hear Teru’s heartbeat beat alongside his own. He gently runs his fingers through Teru’s hair and catches a peek of dark brown roots, and he smiles to himself. Huh. It never occurred to Mob that Teru bleached his hair.
There’s still an undercurrent of the same uneasiness from before, but this time Mob knows what to call it. He lies there a bit longer and enjoys the scent of strawberries and vanilla that no doubt came from the expensive shampoo Teru uses.
As it turns out, Mob’s aim is better than he thought. The cake lands perfectly on Reigen’s face much to the amusement of everyone in the office, and Reigen swears that some of the whipped cream had somehow made its way into his nostrils. Mob wholeheartedly laughs at the sight of it, and Shou gets as many pictures as he can of Reigen with his phone. After meticulously scraping the cake off of Reigen’s face, Tome cuts a slice for everyone who’s still willing to eat it after all it’s been through. Mob finds himself with an especially misshapen slice, complete with a strawberry on top almost like a consolation prize.
Noise fills the office as people intermingle and chat with one another, and Mob eventually takes a seat on a lumpy couch that seems to hug his entire body. Ritsu has the spot next to him, and he’s caught in a riveting discussion with Teru about the latest drama on TV. Mob listens in occasionally—especially when Ritsu is heated on how stupid the protagonist acts sometimes—but mostly sits in silence and takes in the atmosphere. He tries to memorize every detail of the scene, from Reigen dramatically wiping the remaining bits of whipped cream off his face to Tome trying to beat Shou in an arm wrestle, and he packs them away in his heart to bud and grow into something beautiful.
The party ends as soon as Reigen realizes that a client is coming in fifteen minutes, and he begins to shoo people out the door. Reigen even starts to herd Mob out the door, claiming that today’s client was someone Serizawa could take care of (in reality, Mob just thinks Reigen wants to seize the chance to be alone with Serizawa). As he leaves the office, Mob catches sight of Teru and reaches out to take hold of his hand, which Teru welcomes warmly.
“Perfect timing,” Teru says, “I was just about to throw this away.” He holds out a strawberry towards Mob, and he wonders why Teru bothers washing his hair with strawberry shampoo if he doesn’t even like strawberries. Maybe it’s because he knows Mob likes them. Mob shrugs to himself and leans forward to take a bite.
When he does, Mob doesn’t think he’s ever tasted something so sweet.