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Katsuya casts his umbrella aside the same day that he realises that it has been a shackle for him. In his first act of defiance it breaks, the fabric burning up in the force of Touichirou’s cold dismissal, and he takes that as a sign: it had never been intended to protect him. The bent frame is left in the rubble, and when Shigeo repairs the city Katsuya has no idea what becomes of it, but he hopes it has been destroyed. For a minute he entertains the idea that someone might be able to use it for its intended purpose, but he abandons the idea when he wakes up from a nightmare of blue light and bored eyes, of an unspeakable evil transferred onto another innocent soul in order to gain his own freedom.
The umbrella is gone, and that is for the best. That’s the only truth that Katsuya can allow himself to consider in the dawn light that fills Reigen’s office, when he wakes up from that nightmare soaked through and instinctively reaches for the familiar handle. His hands close around thin air, and then instead pull the soiled blanket more tightly around him when he hears the key turn in the lock. There is nowhere to hide the evidence of his shame.
Reigen gives a sharp yelp of surprise when he sees Katsuya - perhaps he had forgotten that he had offered his office as a temporary home - but recovers himself in the time it takes to return his key to his pocket. He looks impeccable in his suit as he takes Katsuya in, hunched with his hands fisted between his legs as if it might hide what he has done. His mouth forms a small ‘o’, but when Katsuya cringes it quickly settles into a flat line. When he has the courage to meet Reigen’s gaze he sees no judgement there; only the haze that comes with early mornings and a neutrality that holds so much more warmth than Touichirou’s bored stare had ever offered him. Katsuya clings to that warmth even though he knows he probably shouldn’t, and something tightens in his chest as he lowers his head to his knees.
“I’m sorry,” he begins, and jolts out of his skin when Reigen’s hand moves in jagged, enthusiastic dismissal.
“What for?” he asks, as if he can’t see. Reigen had taken Katsuya in from his toes to his hair. There is no way he didn’t notice. Reigen walks towards him at a rapid pace and Katsuya flinches, but his hand skims right past him, picking up the blanket by a clean corner and flicking it away from Katsuya in a fluid motion.
“There’s a laundromat next door. We should probably get breakfast, too, since - woah, shit.”
Looking up from his shorts, Katsuya sees that Reigen’s eyes are wide and alert, but he’s looking above Katsuya, not at him. He follows the line of his sight to see the content of the bookshelf spilled across the ceiling and pointed in sharp angles towards Reigen, outlined in fuschia and quivering. Reigen’s finger lifts, pointing upwards, and Katsuya folds in on himself, bracing for the reaction.
“Are you okay?”
“Uhm,” Serizawa doesn’t know how to answer that question. Most of the time he is being told by someone else, rather than asked. He looks around, but there is only Reigen, and he probably wouldn’t have said anything if he knew. “I’m not used to being touched.”
“I didn’t--” Reigen begins, but then he stops short as Katsuya peers at him. He purses his lips, pinching the lower one between his fingers as he thinks.
Reigen is so expressive. Even when doing something as simple as raising his hand, he takes up more space than Katsuya has ever allowed himself; more than his bedroom, and more than his umbrella and his place at Touichirou’s side. Spiritually he has no presence, but still somehow he manages to be enormous, and even though Katsuya knows he is bigger physically he still fears he might be crushed. He presses himself further back into the couch, feeling exposed without the blanket, now folded over Reigen’s arm, and hopes he might be able to disappear.
Reigen frowns; Katsuya swallows. He wants to explain himself.
“I don’t have my umbrella,” he stumbles, and Reigen only looks more confused. Katsuya realises, panic building, that he had not been there for his conversation with Shigeo, and knows very little about him. Why then, did he let Katsuya stay? “It kept me from losing control of my powers. Not really, though. It was a trick.”
“Do you need another one, then?” Katsuya’s expression darkens. “Woah, okay, that’s a no. You’re right, it would only be a band aid anyway. I think what you need is practice.”
Reigen comes towards him again and Katsuya brings his hands to cover his face, sending the books swirling dizzily around them. Between his fingers, Katsuya watches Reigen deftly select a book from the air, holding it by the spine and placing it between them as he sits down on the couch.
“How’s that?” Reigen asks. Katsuya feels as if he has become one with his skeleton. His nerves are on fire, making his fingers twitch involuntarily against his eyelids, and he lowers his hands again to grip his knees, trying to still them. He is sweating, but he feels cold, and the damp curls that cling to his forehead feel like knives. He knows that he is sitting in sodden shorts and a dirty undershirt next to a well-dressed man that Shigeo, the boy who saved him from himself, deeply admires.
But Reigen’s voice is calm, confident and patient, and there’s that warmth behind it again. It lacks expectations, but it is kind, and the back of the book is cool against his bare thigh but doesn’t make him shiver. It’s like a glass of water, he thinks, or a tutorial in a video game.
Hesitantly, Katsuya nods.
“This is fine.”
“Good. We can sit like this for a while, and then you should probably get changed and we should definitely go for breakfast. I only brought a protein bar for myself and, you know, I don’t want to live like that. If you’re sticking around we can try some similar things throughout the day - I’m guessing you’re sticking around, right?”
Katsuya doesn’t know what else he could do, and Reigen talks as if he has every answer hidden in his suit pockets. He nods, and Reigen exhales - Katsuya can’t tell if it’s a laugh or a sigh, but he is too desperate for direction to offer Reigen the chance to change his mind.
“Alright, well, you’re gonna make yourself useful then. After breakfast.”
Reigen starts to carry a clipboard around with him, and he hits Katsuya with it frequently. At first, he thinks it’s a test of endurance, and he bears it with his eyes closed and fists clenched. If he flinches, Reigen will surely fire him, and Katsuya knows that there is very little else he can do. Each successful non-reaction is met with a gentle smile from Reigen, but instead of praising Katsuya he simply tells him:
“I told you so!”
Katsuya is used to not understanding people, so he nods along, attached to Reigen’s coattails as he has become accustomed, and Reigen seems satisfied with his lip service. If there is one thing that Katsuya has never lacked, it’s enthusiasm, even when it’s for something he doesn’t understand.
You need to be more careful.
It takes a long time for Katsuya to realise that the clipboard isn’t a test at all. They are with Shigeo, and Reigen places a hand on his shoulder at the exact same syllable that he had hit Katsuya with three days before.
(“It’s im- per- ative that you take this on board, Mob, if you want to succeed as an adult.”)
Perhaps there should have been another clue; something more plain that had passed Katsuya by, but it’s the squeeze of Reigen’s fingers on Shigeo’s uniform and the pop of his ‘p’ , so natural it sounds rehearsed that makes things click. It’s something like a jigsaw, but Katsuya has never had all of the pieces, so he draws his own, and eventually they fit together to show him a new part of the world.
“It’s more of that, isn’t it? Practice.”
Reigen only looks at him questioningly when Katsuya brings it up, and he suddenly thinks that he ought to have waited for a more appropriate time - perhaps after he had used the clipboard, or maybe if he’d explained beforehand… He laughs nervously and scratches his chin, dry and red now that he has to shave it himself.
“The clipboard, I mean… It’s like the book from the first - or second - day we met. Right? A barrier…”
He tails off. Truthfully he hadn’t understood the logic behind the book either; only that it had worked, and Reigen hadn’t said anything about it once they’d left the office, and nothing more since. He hadn’t touched Katsuya either, except for with the clipboard -and once, in an emergency, when he had shrugged off his suit jacket and used it to bundle him up before shoving him out of the way.
Reigen is considerate, even though he calls himself selfish. Maybe he learned that from Shigeo, or maybe he’s always been that way. For a man who talks so much, Katsuya knows very little about him; it's like he can only touch the frayed edges of his personality, the ones he lets show without thinking. Katsuya is used to people hiding things from him, but not to the kindness that accompanies Reigen's distance. Nor is he accustomed to the way Reigen looks when he skirts around his past or his abilities (his lack thereof, Katsuya thinks, but it's more complicated than that, because Reigen is also the most powerful person Katsuya knows). It's a look Katsuya has only really seen in the mirror before - one of shame.
“Of course it is. What, did you think I was wielding a clipboard at you for no reason?”
“I thought maybe - a test…”
Reigen's face falls at that, and Katsuya's heart drops with it. He hadn't meant to upset him.
“Shit, I'm sorry. I'm not needlessly violent, you know? I had a plan to get you used to spontaneous contact. It's my responsibility as your teacher of, you know, ‘life skills’.”
He makes air quotes around the words, fingertips dancing in midair, and Katsuya is caught in the motion, staring. He means to demean the value, to soften the blow of the fact that Katsuya needs to learn ‘life skills’ at 30 years old, but Katsuya is not stupid. It isn't Reigen's responsibility to do anything for him, it never has been, and this is just one more gratitude that Katsuya has no idea how to express.
“It's not your responsibility,” he mumbles after a moment. Reigen watches him carefully. “I'm fine not being touched. I think it's better that way.”
“It's not better!” Reigen speaks his opinions as if they are facts, and even though Katsuya so firmly believes he is wrong, he finds his own will bending regardless. He has never been stubborn, and even less so when he is desperate for approval. Reigen doesn’t approve of his thoughts. “It’s sad. Look, no offence, but wanting friends has taken you to some pretty awful places in the past, right? Now we’re friends, but if we can’t touch , and it’s not because you don’t like it but because you’re scared, then we’re going to be missing a fundamental connection, and you might never feel like you have friends.”
“Okay.”
“What?” Reigen stops in the middle of an inhalation, the next part of his argument already half-formed on his lips. “Okay? You change your mind too fast, Serizawa. You shouldn’t just agree with me because you think you have to -”
“I didn’t realise you wanted to.”
The words come out in a rush, and it’s only when he’s finished speaking them that Katsuya realises he interrupted Reigen, putting his hands to his mouth in shock and apology. When Reigen doesn’t say anything though, he continues.
“I didn’t realise you wanted to touch me. If you want it… Then it’s okay. I’d like to practice.”
Reigen coughs, and for once he seems at a loss for words. Katsuya wants to capture this expression: the slight pinkness of his cheeks, his averted eyes, the way he rubs his jaw.
“When you put it that way…” he starts, and Katsuya thinks for one frozen moment that he might take it back. Reigen shakes his head, squares his shoulders, and claps his hands. “No, no, you’re right. I - uh, well, I want to. And if knowing that helps you, saying it is a good thing, right?”
“Right,” Katsuya says slowly. He’s not sure who is being persuaded anymore.
Reigen claps again and Katsuya is pulled from himself to see him offering the clipboard like a hand. When Katsuya spreads his palm across the other side he knows that it is ridiculous, but he is still comforted by the strange gesture. Reigen is an innovator, and above all, he cares enough to innovate. Katsuya imagines he can feel the heat of Reigen's palm from behind the plastic, and the projected warmth spreads up his forearm until he shivers.
“Ah, sorry, it’s probably cold,” Reigen says, and he bobs the clipboard once before withdrawing it. Katsuya’s hand feels empty, now, and he flexes his fingers, staring at them as if he might by sheer force of will make them more capable of holding someone. “You did good though; now you know about it, we’ll be able to make real progress.”
Katsuya nods because it seems like the right thing to do, and he’s rewarded with another smile from Reigen. Sometimes Reigen smiles at him the same way that he smiles at Shigeo, and he thinks that that should insult him, but he remembers the way Reigen spoke about him, not as if he was a child but as if he was more than an equal, and something precious, and the smile seems gentle, so he doesn’t really mind.
Katsuya has college in the evenings, and he has never been good at keeping track of time and tasks, so he spends a lot of his time at work rushing through assignments he has forgotten about. He feels terrible, but Reigen waves him off, telling him that he was the same in high school. Katsuya struggles to imagine having any qualities in common with Reigen, but when his teachers scold him he feels a strange surge of warmth that almost frightens him. It isn’t coming from his powers, though - it’s the feeling of having made a connection, smaller than the rush of loyalty that Touichirou had inspired in him but somehow stronger. Whilst his bond to Touichirou had been a thin elastic, snapping the day he revealed he had never considered Katsuya a friend, Katsuya and Reigen are both disorganised, and the fact is a tether of teflon, thin and unbreakable between his fingers.
Whilst Katsuya works Reigen sits behind him, and a medley of books passes between them. The volumes get smaller each time; Katsuya has no idea where Reigen got the book he begins with, a volume so heavy Katsuya has to assist him with his powers in carrying it, with obscure text and a dusty, moth-eaten cover. It smells like his old room, and he would feel uncomfortable if the scent of Reigen’s aftershave didn’t overpower it. That book only lasts three days, anyway, before Reigen grows tired of hefting it to the couch and picks something smaller.
“The barrier between us gets thinner, but it feels just the same,” he says, but Katsuya disagrees. Each book feels different: though they are all hardbacks they are in various states of wear, and depending on Reigen’s stress levels they press with more or less force against Katsuya’s thighs. Some bend against his shape and others dig into the soft flesh of his thighs, even softer now that Reigen has started checking in on his eating habits. As they get smaller, Katsuya feels as if his powers extend to being able to count the pages without flipping through them. He is aware of every strip of paper between himself and Reigen; of the hard binding and the expired library receipt, folded at the corner enough that it should count as another layer. His paper sits half-written in his lap, and Katsuya’s gaze slides over the words and onto Reigen’s knees no matter how many times he forces it back. There’s nothing exciting about them - at least, Katsuya doesn’t think so, he hasn’t seen Reigen in shorts and his suit, though tailored, does not cling to his form in any revealing way - but he stares all the same, at the way both of Reigen’s legs are angled towards his to keep the book in place; how the triangular way they are sitting means that they are closer than the width of the book between them, even if they’re not touching. It’s silly to fixate on, he knows, because he played enough otome games during his years and a shut in and has been mocked enough to know that they are nothing like reality, but he is one nervous twitch away from contact, and he is prone to nervous twitching - unless, it seems, he is hoping for it.
He’s doing good. That’s what Reigen tells him, and even though he is manipulative (and Katsuya knows that, despite what those around him might say, he is not being taken advantage of again, or if he is, it’s by choice, more or less) Reigen doesn’t lavish unnecessary praise on anyone but himself, so Katsuya believes him. It’s still terrifying when Reigen announces their next step - hand holding, or something like it.
The air conditioner in the office is breaking down. It stutters, spitting out as much dust as it does cool air, but the sound of the fan as it churns is comforting, a sputtering click that is quicker than Katsuya’s heart as he faces Reigen, his hands outstretched and palms turned up. He is hunched over to avoid their knees touching, and Reigen tucks his legs between Katsuya’s, moving with deftness and precision. Katsuya had trembled too much when the barrier had been a thin sheet of paper, knocking it from his hands with too-loud apologies, so this time Reigen drops a children’s book onto his palms. It can’t be more than ten pages, but the binding is solid enough that it doesn’t float away even with Katsuya’s shaking. Reigen hadn’t commented on it, and Katsuya is grateful for that - he knows he shouldn’t be by now.
Reigen places his hands so delicately on top of the book that Katsuya can barely feel the change in weight; there is a slight pressure on the pads of his fingertips, and that’s all. It’s strange from someone who uses so much force in his day-to-day activities, even for things as simple as typing, or throwing salt, and it’s then that Katsuya realises just how hard Reigen has been working for his sake. He didn’t ask for Reigen’s help and had thought himself little more than a way to pass the time, an act of charity to balance out his karma. Now though, when he tries to meet Reigen’s eyes he sees his frown of concentration, and the intense gaze fixed upon his own hands as he tries not to rest all of his weight on Katsuya’s palms.
“...It’s fine,” Katsuya says after a long moment of deliberation. “We’re doing this now, and your hands are small, so…”
Reigen clicks his tongue at that, but he won’t hear Katsuya’s apologies. He didn’t mean to offend, and he has chewed the inside of his cheek raw before Reigen looks at him again and smiles the same smile that tells Katsuya to stop thinking about things. There isn’t much that can stop Katsuya from thinking, but Reigen’s smile is close. He thinks with time he might be able to find the reassurance Reigen wants him to see in it.
“When was the last time you touched someone, anyway?” Reigen asks. “Before we started all of this, I mean. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want!”
The last part is just a courtesy, tacked onto the end because Reigen somehow knows all the rules, and the rules say he needs to give Katsuya an out. Katsuya doesn't know any of the rules, other than to keep his elbows off the dinner table and say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ and if you're not sure just say ‘sorry’, but he hears the rushed words and knows they aren't sincere. He's spent enough time with Reigen now to recognise his sincerity; a mean feat, considering that he spent three years with Touichirou and never once considered that they might not be friends.
“The five touched me all the time,” he says, and then stammers at Reigen’s dark look. He doesn’t know what Reigen is thinking, but he still has - not fondness, but attachment to the people he entered the world with, and no matter how feeble he has to give them some defence. “They didn’t realise it made me uncomfortable, I think, because everything was so...Everything made me uncomfortable. So they’d grab me by the elbow, lean over me, touch my shoulder, things like that.”
They didn’t notice because they didn’t care , Reigen’s silence tells him. He doesn’t believe that, mostly because he doesn’t want to. They defended him in the end, after all, and well, Shimazaki is the type to do something that made you uncomfortable because he cares about you. The others were as dysfunctional as him, Katsuya knows, but they knew the rules and had decided to break them. Katsuya thought that he was learning them.
Reigen’s face is sallow, his eyes dark from lack of sleep and too much time staring at a screen. Maybe he was attractive once, but he works too hard to make an easy living, and the stress that comes with being around Shigeo - being around Katsuya - takes a toll on mortal men. Right now, his lips are set in a grim line, and it highlights the wear on his features; but when Reigen is smiling, he is more beautiful than anyone Katsuya has ever seen.
Katsuya’s fingers twitch beneath the book.
“When was the last good time, then? Or were you always uncomfortable with it, maybe?”
Katsuya shakes his head. “No, my mother...she would touch me all the time, and I liked that. I guess most people do? She would brush my hair a lot, and she taught me to shave -” he hesitates. The memory is vivid and painful: his mother coming towards him with a blade, her smile encouraging and gentle, and his fear...he had flung his hands up and she hit the wall, and he never let her touch him again. Even more painful than the blood on her cheek had been the look of dismay in her eyes when he turned away from her the next day. “I was fourteen, so, uhm. Thirteen years later I held the president’s hand...well, through the umbrella anyway. And then the five, and now, uh, this.”
“Your mother sounds nice.”
“She is. She never complained, not once, even though she bore a great burden.”
Reigen laughs at this, a sad kind of laugh that tugs at Katsuya’s chest. “Sometimes I think that’s what mothers want - to bear great burdens. We have that in common.”
Katsuya’s expression must be an open book to Reigen, because when he looks up, eyes wide and mouth open, Reigen screws up his nose, lifting his shoulders and rolling them back before he starts to speak again, his gaze now fixed on the wall.
“Since you’ve been so open...my mother’s always trying to solve my problems. She’s been doing it since high school, you know, and I never ask her too, and most of the time I never listen. She keeps trying, though. Wants me to get a real job. It’s a pain...but she never complains either, even when I caused a lot of trouble for her. I was on TV. Not for anything good,” Reigen explains hastily. “I forgot that you wouldn’t have seen it.”
“It’s a shame she can’t know how much you’ve done for people.”
“Ah, she’s seen my website. I’m not sure if she believes my customer reviews are real.”
There is little point in telling Reigen that Katsuya didn’t mean his customers, and even if there was Katsuya wouldn’t be able to explain himself anyway. He learned to say thank you, not to explain why, and Shigeo is a more complicated entity than he could ever begin to describe; Reigen’s role in shaping him even more so. He doesn’t know the details and he probably won’t ever get them, but there is so much of Reigen inside Shigeo’s power that Katsuya knows he is responsible for at least some of his goodness.
Katsuya wants that for himself, too. He sees his own power when he looks in the mirror, which is why they’re always covered. He sees it in his periphery, if he forgets not to look. He wants to be able to see Reigen in there some day; to be shaped by him and maybe shape him in turn, if he has anything good to offer.
The book clatters to the floor as everything else around them rises into the air. Katsuya watches it fall, and when he follows the line of his arm that had been supporting the book he sees his own hand on Reigen’s shoulder.
Reigen’s eyes are wide, his lips parted. He is clutching his chair for dear life and Katsuya realises that he has lifted them both a foot off the ground. He pulls his arm back and they both sink to the ground with a thud; Katsuya hasn’t learned how to fall slowly.
“What was that?” Reigen asks, rubbing his jarred elbow. He doesn’t celebrate Katsuya’s touch, but there’s something in his eyes that he’s holding back. Katsuya can’t decipher it for the blur of his overwhelming embarrassment. He toys with his fingers.
“I don’t know, I just - suddenly I wanted to hug you - I’m sorry-”
“Hey, it’s okay.”
Katsuya looks at Reigen, and it really is okay. He’s smiling, the most beautiful man Katsuya has ever seen, and his arms are open. He stands up, and Katsuya mimics him.
“I have that effect on people. You can hug me if you want.”
Katsuya’s feet are like lead, and he can’t lift them to move closer, so he shuffles instead. Reigen guides his arms through gesture, lifting his own to make Katsuya follow him, and then lowering them when he moves forward so that they can slot together.
They hug.
The first winter of Katsuya’s employment at Spirits and Such is ending. Katsuya is going to miss hot chocolates after work with Reigen and Shigeo. They’re all bundled into one booth at the restaurant, and Reigen didn’t order any food but he keeps stealing from Katsuya’s bowl. He doesn’t really mind but he elbows him anyway, because they’ve been talking about boundaries a lot and Katsuya wants to show he understands.
“What?” Reigen says, and Katsuya looks where he is looking. Shigeo stares between them both looking far older than he should.
“Nothing. I was just thinking you two seem close now, that’s all. Serizawa-san doesn’t twitch as much around you anymore.”
Reigen scoffs, and then sputters, and then runs a hand through his hair, looking smug. Katsuya watches him and then turns back to Shigeo with a shrug.
“I’ve acclimatised to him, I suppose.”
Shigeo smiles the tiniest of smiles, a gesture that Katsuya has only just learned to recognise, and his spirit lifts when he responds.
“I’m glad.”