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Serizawa’s aura is spiking with nervous energy. Mob notices it immediately after Reigen has stepped outside, how it flares and curls around him. Serizawa himself doesn’t seem to notice it, however, and so Mob doesn’t mention it.
Minutes tick away in the quiet office, only Serizawa’s restless shifting breaking it every now and then. Mob wonders if it has something to do with the fact that Reigen is away, but then again – they’ve been in the office without their boss many times before this. And Serizawa is an adult man, he doesn’t need anyone to look after him.
(Those words Mob had heard specifically from Serizawa’s own mouth a week ago.)
So it has to be something else.
Mob still isn’t going to ask, because Serizawa will talk to him if he wants to. Instead, he pulls out a comic from his backpack and focuses on it.
The silence isn’t uncomfortable, not at all. There’s something oddly comfortable about Serizawa’s presence; Mob likes having him around. It’s just that, well, the nervous energy that’s filling the office starts to get more and more intense by the second, and Mob can almost hear Serizawa’s aura crackling.
After fifteen minutes, Mob puts the comic down.
“Do you want some tea?” he asks, because he isn’t sure how else he should approach the topic. Serizawa looks up from the computer in front of him with wide eyes.
“Oh, you don’t have to. I can get us both something if you’re hungry,” he stammers, and Mob shakes his head.
“Your aura,” he says then. Serizawa flinches slightly, only now realising that his aura has, indeed, filled almost the whole office. The look in his eyes is apologetic, and soon the pressure has subsided.
“T-tea would be nice,” Serizawa says then. Mob nods once and makes his way to the tiny kitchen.
When he comes back, Serizawa has settled on the sofa, looking significantly less like he’s going to pass out. Mob gives him the other cup, and he thanks him quietly.
They sit on there for a while, in silence, before Serizawa clears his throat awkwardly.
“Kageyama-senpai,” he starts, “can I ask you something?”
Mob blinks.
“In the tower, I– I could see all your memories,” Serizawa says, turning the cup in his hands. Mob thinks back and yes, he remembers it clearly. He tries to guess where the conversation is going, but only succeeds to get his hands a bit sweaty from thinking too hard.
“Does Reigen-san know?”
Serizawa’s mouth is drawn into a tight line. Mob doesn’t quite understand what he means.
“I did mention our fight to him–”
“That you were stabbed.”
Now, Serizawa isn’t one to interrupt others – that’s impolite, after all. But right now he has his mind set on something, Mob can see it in his eyes. The determination.
The sentence hangs in the air. Mob swallows.
The answer is no. No, he hasn’t talked about that to Reigen. No, he hasn’t done it because there isn’t any reason to do so. It wasn’t even real, so it doesn’t matter that much.
(It doesn’t matter that he sometimes still can’t sleep, or that his hands start shaking when he sees those stray cats lounging outside of their house.
Some nights he raises the hem of his shirt and sees only smooth, pale skin and the reality feels surreal.)
“I wasn’t stabbed,” he says automatically. Technically, it’s the truth. But to him? Not really.
“Nobody knows.” Serizawa’s voice takes an almost fatherly tone, something Mob hasn’t heard before. It doesn’t suit his character, but then again, with his whole presence being so gentle, it kind of does.
The thing is, Mob had wanted to tell Reigen. It happened right after leaving the Asagiri manor when he looked at the blood and scrapes on Reigen’s face, and guilt washed over him. Suffocating and heavy, and Mob just forced the words down his throat.
Reigen squeezed his shoulder, fingers gripping Mob’s shirt in a slightly desperate way. “Thank God you came back alright,” he muttered. “Don’t know what I would’ve done otherwise.”
And Mob had decided that Reigen wouldn’t need to know the truth.
“It’s okay,” he reassures, even though his knuckles are white from squeezing the teacup in his hands. Hands that are still sweating profusely.
“I think–” Serizawa says, gulping, because being free to express his opinions is still such a new thing to him, “that Reigen-san would like to know. And… And it would be good for you too. You have a good boss.” He keeps his eyes on his hands, and after a painfully long moment sips his tea.
Mob thinks.
He thinks about the time he spent in Mogami’s dreamland, Asagiri Minori, the cat. The milk and the cat and the hung body of Mogami. He thinks about Reigen and Serizawa and his family.
“He would like to know?”
Serizawa looks away. “W–well... of course– Of course it’s your own decision. But he cares about you a lot.”
Mob tilts his head. “My parents and Ritsu care about me a lot, too.”
Nodding, Serizawa says: “Yes, but Reigen-san was there when it happened, so maybe he could… Help?”
A genuinely good guy . Yes, Reigen would want to help. In fact, there are a lot of people who would be ready to help him. Who care about him. There are many options besides Reigen if Mob wants to “talk to someone,” though he kind of does understand where Serizawa is coming from. He’s about to say this, but then Serizawa speaks again.
“And it’s not nice. The is– isolation, I mean. It’s easier when you’re… When you’re not bearing it alone.” His voice gets quieter at the end of the sentence, and Mob knows he’s speaking from experience.
And it’s weird how similar they are. Mob realised it for the first time in the tower, where Serizawa’s power had hit him with full force, or when he had heard the tremble in his voice for the first time he spoke. And Mob had known Serizawa deserved much better.
(Maybe it’s him; maybe Serizawa wants to be able to talk to Reigen like that, openly. After all, it’s easy to put two and two together when you see how he acts around their boss.)
Mob doesn’t know what to say. In general, he isn’t very good at this type of talk, or to be exact, good at talking about himself, so he settles on not saying anything, just brings the teacup to his lips.
Serizawa takes a deep breath, sounding suddenly very sure. “And I would like to help you too. I have seen it and it’s not… It’s tough.”
Mob has learned to be better at controlling his emotions. A lot better, actually. But right now something is twisting in his stomach, something that makes the cup in his hands shake. He swallows once, twice, feels a weird lump in his throat.
But he doesn’t cry, because he isn’t sad.
He’s just grateful.
“Thank you,” Mob says quietly, and Serizawa’s mouth curls into a tiny, gentle smile.
A loud thump from the door makes them both jump, and a second after that they hear Reigen yell:
“Mob? Serizawa? I forgot my keys, please open the door?”
(It makes them both sigh.)