Chapter Text
You couldn’t believe you were seriously doing this.
It had been months since your last breakdown, but this one didn’t show you any less mercy. Chopping your hair off back into the blunt bob you grew out a decade ago went better than expected, and buying an entire closet of new clothes was sort of cool if it weren’t for your need for money to pay for rent and food and basic necessities.
But getting on a train back to your hometown? That wasn’t one of your smarter ideas, especially since buying a return ticket completely slipped your mind, and you were now suffering the consequences of your excessive spending. The only thing you could do now was wait and hope that there would still be a train going back to Tokyo soon.
There wasn’t.
You had nowhere to go in Seasoning City. Your relatives all lived in the same area as you (not that they checked on you often) and you lost contact with your childhood friends back at the strangely-named city. That was expected, though. It had been more than ten years since you graduated from your highschool and left the place for good, and it was highly unlikely that anyone would remember your face.
Purely out of habit, you ran your hands through your hair, feeling the soft locks detangle between your fingers and bounce back up at the end by the bottom of your chin. Using your phone as a mirror, you scrutinised your new (and old) haircut, sighing as you remembered the last time you sported the cut. With each strand at almost half its original length, you felt lighter.
It didn’t change anything, though, since you suddenly felt a heavier weight on your shoulders thanks to your spending spree. Although you didn’t want to admit it, you were starting to run low on cash— a situation you encountered way more than the healthy amount, by the way. Your parents often expressed their disapproval of you carrying large bills in your wallet, but you did it anyway. You liked feeling in control.
You had to admit, for a twenty-six year old who graduated as salutatorian, you could be pretty stupid sometimes.
Paying for a hotel was out of the question as your common sense was slowly returning. The cheaper side of you considered a motel, since that was the next best option, but your germaphobe-side almost threw up from thinking about sleeping in a probably-filthy-and-jizz-covered bed.
Were you about to just lay down a jacket on the cold floor and call it a night? Maybe. But you still clung onto the hope that at least one of your childhood friends (a) still lived in Seasoning City, and (b) were willing to let you stay at their place until you could get a ticket back. It was both a good and bad thing that you brought almost all of your belongings in a suitcase, since even though it was a pain to lug along, having clothes and other essentials made you feel more at home in the city you used to know. Additionally, you didn’t need to worry about borrowing any other items to add onto the burden of your host.
You exited the train station and felt the cold, humid air on your skin before walking around and taking in your surroundings. There was an empty bench still slightly wet from the evening rain you just missed on the two-hour train ride. Sitting on the driest part you could find, you pulled out your phone and opened Friendbook. Just as you guessed, you were still friends with a large majority of your class, which made it much easier to contact people who still lived in the city.
You composed a simple message:
‘Hello, I’m visiting the city for a while and I was wondering if—’
Then you deleted it. It sounded stupid and pathetic and you were too tired to continue a message sounding that formal.
‘Hey! This is—’
Still no, you thought as your finger rapidly pressed the backspace button. It wouldn’t matter how you made it sound like, the situation you were stuck in was too moronic to even sound remotely normal, and you weren’t even close to those people anymore.
But was there even anyone else to go to?
…
…
Oh fuck.
You groaned aloud, scrolling through your phone contacts as your eyes darted between names, searching for the one that reeked of nostalgia. A gut feeling told you he was still residing in Seasoning City, but maybe that was just because you couldn’t imagine him anywhere else. You didn’t want to imagine him anywhere else.
There was also a brewing hope that by some miracle he would let you stay, but as you thought harder, you realized that it wasn’t such a farfetched outcome. After all, as far as you concerned, you were both on good terms, not to mention how much of a gentleman he was. You were certain he couldn’t turn you down.
Sucking a breath in, your finger hovered over the name in your contact list: Reigen Arataka.
From friends, to lovers, to strangers. What a time to begin again.
You knew it was weird. Normal people wouldn’t ask if they could sleep over at their ex’s house after years of no contact. Normal people wouldn’t even talk to the other anymore. But then again, normal people wouldn’t screw themselves over and only regain their common sense when it’s already too late.
“Screw it,” you mumbled aloud, clicking the green ‘call’ button that taunted you for too long.
As soon as the screen changed, you put the phone to your ear. It began to ring. Once, twice, then a voice called out.
“Hello?” He picked up, sounding confused, but there was a tinge of hope in his tone, as if hoping this wasn’t just a butt dial. You felt like crying, but you couldn’t decipher the emotions that were resurfacing in you. You just missed the sound of his voice.
“Uhh, h-hey. You’re probably wondering why I’m calling you after so long but—”
“I don’t mind,” he suddenly said calmly, cutting you off. He was lucky you still had a soft spot for him.
“I’m in Seasoning City right now. Could I stay over for one night so I don’t have to sleep on the streets?”
There was a short silence, then Reigen laughed a bit. You really missed the sound of his voice.
“Sure, where are you? You need a pickup?”
He said yes. You slapped your head both out of shock and to make sure this wasn’t all a fever dream. Why were you even surprised? Reigen had always been the generous type… well, at least to you. You frowned a bit, silently praying that things wouldn’t become awkward during your stay. Reigen was already being nice enough to offer his home; you didn’t want to give him the stress of dealing with you.
“Oh my gosh, thank you so much. I’m by the train station, and I don’t know where you live anymore— yeah, I guess I need to be picked up.” This time, you cut yourself off before you could continue rambling.
“Alright, I’ll be there in 5 mins.”
‘Shit,’ you thought. ‘I hope I don’t regret this.’
The five minutes passed fairly quickly after scrolling through your feed on social media and shaking your leg to deal with the nerves. Soon enough, you heard a voice call out your name.
“Hey! It’s been a while.” Reigen Arataka was there in the flesh, smiling at you with a dangerously charming grin. He still had those stupid uneven bangs from highschool, but he seemed to have grown into them— not that they ever looked bad on him to begin with. After giving a friendly wave, he placed his hands in the pockets of the grey suit that fit him all too perfectly.
“H-hi,” you stuttered loudly, caught off-guard by how attractive he looked. Had he always looked so handsome? “Thanks again for letting me crash at your place, Ara-err-Reigen-san, you’re a lifesaver.” You had to be more careful, or else you’d end up calling him by his first name, and you didn’t really deserve that anymore.
But while you were reminiscing, you didn’t catch the cringe on his face after you uttered his surname. How close were you now?
As you stood up to leave, you noticed the lack of a vehicle next to him and frowned.
“Wait, did you walk here?”
“Yep,” he replied. “I thought it would be nice to walk with you. And I don’t have a car.” Classic Arataka, you thought silently.
Reigen leaned to the side, observing something.
“D’you need me to carry that?” he asked, point to your suitcase with at least ten other unnecessary hand gestures. What a gentleman, you mused.
“No, but thanks for the offer.” You forced a smile at him, trying to look genuine. He smiled back, but his smile reached his eyes.
The trip to his house was uneventful, aside from some half-assed small talk about where you lived now and your current occupation. He had a sympathetic look when you talked about how you quit your last job after—oh right— your previous mental breakdown, and you could have sworn his hand was purposely brushing against yours as you walked side-by-side.
“How about you? What do you do?” Judging from the outfit (and his charisma), you would have guessed he’d either be the CEO of some company about to take over the world or be one of those unemployed and well-dressed punks. From previous experience, the latter was more likely.
“Oh, I’m a psychic consultant.” Well, that wasn’t remotely close.
“Sorry, what?”
“I do exorcisms, y’know, deal with ghost problems,” he explained casually, as if passing it off as another salaryman’s job. Maybe you were just sleep-deprived, but he looked kind of cute at that moment.
“Huh, that’s cool. You gotta show me how that works sometime.”
He nodded in reply, putting his hand on his chin as if in thought. Neither of you had anything to say afterwards, and instinctively avoided eye-contact to prevent things from getting awkward.
The silence carried on for no longer than ten seconds when, suddenly, Reigen stopped by a small apartment. He scanned his keycard by the entrance, and lead you inside. It took a quick second for your eyes to adjust to the light. There was no lobby, only a small space with a single elevator which was surprisingly large considering the size of the rest of the area. Your host pressed a button for floor 8, and after drowsing off due to the calming silence inside, a high-pitched ‘ding’ woke you back up and you trailed Reigen into the apartment.
It was almost pitch-black inside, but after a few clicks of switches, the room was illuminated by a warm orange glow overhead, revealing the simple yet modern furniture Reigen owned. For the first time in a while, you felt at home.
“Woah.” You couldn’t help expressing your awe. “Your apartment looks nice, Reigen-san.” He winced again.
“Thanks. You can drop the honorifics, though, you know? We’re not complete strangers.”
“Ah.” It would have been a lie to say that the last sentence didn’t hurt you a bit. “Okay, Reigen.” The name was so familiar to your lips, and saying it again was like picking at a scab that was just about to heal. Reigen also looked uncomfortable, failing to cover the nervous smile on his face. But knowing him, he was probably just flustered.
“Umm, where should I sleep?”
“The sofa’s available...” he trailed off, “but since I’m such a gentleman I’ll let you sleep on the bed.” Again, his hands swiveled in a hundred different directions before pointing at you. You could have sworn his eyes were sparkling as he said this.
Being too tired to argue at this point, you gave in to his generosity and thanked him.
“You can kick me off the bed if you want it back,” you half-heartedly muttered, and collapsed onto the soft mattress.
“Goodnight,” Reigen half-whispered, but you passed out on the bed before you could utter any reply.
---
The next morning, Reigen woke up to the sound of a car obnoxiously honking outside. Unable to fall back asleep, he slowly sat upright, rubbing his eyes and fixing the long sleeves of his pajama shirt. The sky was still a lovely tint of orange and purple, almost turning into yellow from the warm licks of the sun, but it was freezing. Goosebumps were littered all over his skin, and he now regretted forgetting to turn on the heater. Not even thick pajamas could combat the merciless chilly weather.
Still out of it, he turned his head around and stared at the half-opened door to the bedroom, expecting to hear some movement on your part. Only the quiet hum of the street life below entered his ears; you must have still been asleep. Reigen felt his face begin to flush. He dropped his head onto his hands, sighing, and wondering why he let you stay. Maybe he was feeling charitable that day. After all, that was the most money he had made that month.
Or maybe, he thought, clutching the fabric over his chest. Maybe the voice in his heart was right. Maybe he missed you.
He remembered how you felt in his arms all those years back, how you were so delicate and precious and warm. Oh God, he missed the warmth of your embrace the most.
You looked almost the same, albeit more mature now, but your hairstyle was identical and your eyes were as pretty as ever, which didn’t help ease Reigen’s pain at all. It was a mistake to accept your feelings all those years ago; he should have stayed silent and enjoyed your fleeting company. You were each other's first love, after all. It was bound to end.
With a newfound pain in his chest, Reigen groggily made his way towards the balcony, picking up his flip phone and a pack of cigarettes near the ashtray outside. It was way too early to be feeling down. He checked the date. It was a Thursday, still a weekday, and he had clients to satisfy.
He didn’t know how long he stood there over the ledge with an unlit cigarette in hand and thoughts swarming around his head. He didn’t bother checking his watch, either, and instead let his mind drift off into peaceful nothingness, freezing on the balcony like some sort of introspective man going through a midlife crisis— which, to be fair, wasn’t so far from the truth.
At some point, he heard sounds behind him and turned around to see what, or rather who, it was, though the answer was obvious from the start. Blinking back into reality, he slapped on his business-smile and greeted you.
“Glad you see you up and rested.” He hated how fake he sounded. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about you, he genuinely did, but he didn’t want to sound desperate.
“Morning,” you returned, voice still raw and raspy. You were still wearing the clothes from last night, but a thin blanket was draped over your shoulders. It acted more as mental protection than as actual physical protection from the cold, evident by your slight shivering.
As you approached closer, Reigen saw your bed hair and almost laughed out loud, but successfully masked it with a cough. Subconsciously, he fixed his own light brown locks simultaneously. If only he knew how those little actions made you blush.
Your makeup was still on, now a bit smudged, but he thought it actually suited you (in a good way, of course)— not that he would say that out loud. You yawned. There was a silence that followed, partially due to your own social awkwardness and partially due to both of your drowsy states.
“Nice pajamas,” you blurted out before retreating back into the room. “‘M gonna change now, so don’t even think about peeping.”
Reigen deadpanned. What the hell did you think of him?
He let out a sigh and loitered by the door, waiting for your cue that it was okay to enter again.
Within five minutes, you came out wearing one of your new outfits: a simple turtleneck shirt and skinny jeans, paired with a red windbreaker that was already half-crumpled from being carelessly shoved into a suitcase.
“You look nice,” Reigen pointed out as nonchalantly as he could, but his excessive sweating probably gave his nervousness away.
“Thanks.” There was an unreadable expression on your face as you zoned out and pulled out your phone to fidget. It was another one of your anxious tics that appeared whenever you were uncomfortable or embarrassed, but you never really felt the need to try and get rid of it early on.
“Uhh, your jacket still has the tag on.” Reigen moved closer, offering to remove it. You remained still, only giving him a brief nod of acknowledgement.
He made his way behind you, footsteps silent on the wooden floor. The only sound in the room was the shifting of fabric as he moved your jacket to grip the tag properly. In the process, his knuckles brushed the back of your neck ever so gently.
With a slight pull, the tag snapped, and Reigen quickly skittered to toss it away. It was weird how even a small interaction made the both of you so jittery.
“I’m going to work soon. Do you wanna come?”
“Sorry, but I should go back home soon. I only needed to stay for a night… unfortunately.”
“Come on, I haven’t seen you in so long! It’s not everyday you meet the greatest psychic of the 21st century!” He was desperate, and it was obvious.
“Fine,” you groaned, dragging out the word in a playful way. “But if there’s an evil spirit inside of me, I better get a free exorcism.”
Reigen just replied with his classic, cheap smile and a thumbs up before hurrying to change.
Please let things go back to how they were.