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It’s… subtle. And that might be the thing that disjoints him the most about it.
Serizawa and Shigeo are manning the office today while Reigen meets with a client for consultation. Something about a “haunted house with a mysterious background.” Reigen threw it around so flippantly that it was clear he wasn’t concerned with anything coming out of it. He was more concerned with leaving the office unattended during one of their busiest days of the week.
Which is why Serizawa and Shigeo are here, Reigen is not, and the office is quiet. With an hour to go ‘till closing time, Serizawa needlessly straightens things on the desk, stacking papers, organizing pencil cups. Shigeo had fallen asleep on the couch about ten minutes ago; with entrance exams coming up, it’s clear he hasn’t been getting enough sleep, and Serizawa doesn’t mind closing up on his own. Besides, Reigen should be back soon.
Serizawa has busied himself with the rest of the office so thoroughly that it takes him a while to notice a slight something in the atmosphere. It isn’t a very substantial change. It isn’t even a worrying one. Like a slight draft, or a change of light as the sun dips deeper. He doesn’t think twice.
It isn’t until Serizawa is leaving the storage room and passing by the couch that he realizes just what the problem is.
Shigeo, curled on his side on the couch with his knees close to his chest, has tears running down his cheeks.
Serizawa’s heart is thrown for a loop. His mind comes to a screeching standstill before moving again, slowly, trying to click things into place. Shigeo is crying? In his sleep? He isn’t awake… should he wake him? Or should he just let him sleep and pretend he didn’t see anything?
The thought doesn’t last long. He can’t do that. Already, there’s something in his gut that knows what this is about, and even though he hopes he’s wrong, he can’t ignore that. It seems wrong to leave Shigeo on his own like this.
“... Hey. Kageyama.”
Serizawa reaches out, hesitates, then sets his hand on Shigeo’s shoulder and shakes him gently.
“Kageyama. Shigeo. Wake up.”
It doesn’t take more than that. Shigeo’s eyes snap open and he sits upright, shaking Serizawa’s hand off whether he means to or not. He blinks up at him with wide, still teary eyes, before recognition settles in and he brings his hands up to brush away his tears.
That split second of panic was enough. Serizawa knows that look. Second-handedly, through memories, but still. He knows that look.
“Sorry,” Shigeo says quietly, dropping his hands down into his lap. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep…”
That’s not the issue here, and they both know it. Serizawa draws a breath and tries gathering up what little social skills he’s gained since working here, which isn’t as much as he needs but maybe, just maybe, it’s enough. Shigeo sits still, and Serizawa lowers himself onto the couch beside him slowly.
“... Shigeo, was it…?”
Shigeo swallows. Nods. Neither of them speak, and the quiet stretches.
“... Reigen doesn’t know, does he?”
Silence falls. It runs its course.
“... No.” Shigeo’s breath shakes a little on the way out. “No, he doesn’t.”
“Have you—” Serizawa pauses, tries finding the words. “Have you ever—thought about telling him? I know it happened a long time ago, and I know you don’t want to think about it, but—if it’s still affecting you like this, Shigeo, then… you shouldn’t keep it to yourself like that.”
Shigeo falls quiet for a time, hands clenched tight in his lap. “... I know. You’re right. I just—” He hunches in on himself, shoulders curled. His hands are shaking now. “H-How am I supposed to tell him, Serizawa? It’s been so long. He doesn’t have to know.”
“Is that what you really think?”
Shigeo swallows, but says nothing. Serizawa pauses for a long, long while, struggling to come up with something worth saying, something that’ll help and not hinder.
“Listen, Shigeo.” Serizawa turns toward him, trying to meet his eyes. “Please.”
Shigeo glances at him and holds his gaze, but says nothing. Serizawa takes this as his opportunity to move on.
“Reigen, he… he cares about you so much. Probably a lot more than you realize. He brags about you all the time, you know? Like a proud dad or something. He could never be disappointed in you, especially not over something like this. You don’t have to be afraid to tell him anything.”
Shigeo swallows thickly, eyes shimmering, breaths leaving with a rasp. “I-I know that,” he manages, voice strangled and choked, “I know he won’t be disappointed, I-I know that, I just don’t want—” He gets stuck, draws in a shaky breath. “I don’t want him to—to blame himself. It wasn’t his fault, but if—i-if he knew what really happened, there, I… he’d… he wouldn’t forgive himself.”
“Don’t you think he’d feel worse if he just… found out someday?”
“He doesn’t have to find out.”
“Secrets don’t last forever, Shigeo. You can’t make them.”
Shigeo doesn’t say anything.
Serizawa hesitates, but. This is something he can do. Even if Shigeo doesn’t want to hear it, he can’t just leave the boy with all of this and pretend he didn’t see anything. There’s no kicking this under the rug.
“Shigeo, Reigen loves you. He’s so proud of you for everything you’ve done, the person you’ve worked to become. And I know you love him, too, and… I know it’s hard, and I know you’d rather pretend it never happened, but… you can’t keep it locked away like that. No matter how hard you try… all you’ll end up doing is hurting yourself. Even if you don’t tell him everything, I... I think you should tell him something.”
He knows he’s bad at this. He doesn’t know how to give advice, or if the advice he’s giving now is good, but Shigeo lowers his head with a tired, resigned sigh, and with the smallest of nods, he murmurs, “... Okay. O-Okay, I’ll… I-I’ll try.”
When Serizawa settles an arm around his shoulders (loosely, in case he wants to pull away), Shigeo leans into him, and they stay there until they hear the thud of footsteps and the rattle of keys by the office door.
“R-Reigen, c-c... can I talk to you about something?”
“Of course you can, Mob, what’s up?”
Serizawa was this close to entering the office when he heard the voices, quiet but unmistakable in the silence. His hand freezes over the door handle and he retracts his steps, leaning against the wall with his heart in his throat.
That, that was close. Chances are if he’d walked in then, the conversation would’ve never happened.
He stays there, relieved that Shigeo is talking to him, but still nervous for the outcome. He knows everything he said yesterday held some truth to it, but he can’t help the anxiety. He has a bad habit of overthinking things and now is no exception.
With a wall in between them, Serizawa can’t hear the conversation; only muffled somethings of words that he couldn’t make out even if he did try. He doesn’t want to intrude; he has no right to; and he’s more than content to stay here for as long as he needs to. For as long as they talk.
An indeterminable amount of time passes before he hears something slightly different. Something like quick, heavy footsteps, then an abrupt silence that’d come out of nowhere. Serizawa’s hands, which he’d been subconsciously wringing together, go still. His heart skips a beat.
Carefully, slowly, to avoid being seen, he peaks around the corner and through the crack in the door.
He only sees a sliver of the office, but it’s enough. Reigen and Shigeo are both on their feet, arms wound around each other tightly. Reigen is still saying something, but his words are too quiet for Serizawa to make out from here. Whatever they are, Shigeo responds by hugging him tighter, and Reigen returns it.
Serizawa backs up again with a small smile to himself.
They’ll go on jobs soon, and Serizawa won’t mention the red in the corners of their eyes. He won’t ask what’s got a spring in Shigeo’s step. He won’t ask why Reigen sticks particularly close to his side. He doesn’t need to.
When it boils down to it, as long as Shigeo has someone to talk to, and as long as Reigen is there, they’ll be okay. That’s enough.