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He had done bad things, but he was not a bad man. He had done bad things, but he was not a bad man.
The thoughts that kept Serizawa company on particularly insomniatic nights echoed perpetually like feedback between two microphones. They skipped over each other like a record at the end of its track, like this was the very last thing he had to comprehend before flipping over.
He turned over, facing the wall.
Done bad things, but not a bad man. Love the sinner, but hate the sin. Bad things, bad man.
Bad man.
Serizawa had known a disproportionately lot of bad men in his limited experience of the world. He’d been blessed ( had he been? ) with an absent father from when he was four or so. Old enough to remember having one, to be attached to one, young enough to not be able to recall his face with clarity.
Cruel.
Maybe there was a difference to be noted between bad men and cruel men. Maybe it was okay to be bad, just not cruel. What constituted bad anyway?
If he looked too far into that, it would become clear to him that he most certainly fit the bill. In that case, so would Reigen.
Oh, Reigen. Reigen.
Serizawa turned his head enough to peer over at the blond’s sleeping form. There wasn’t much to see, with him face down in his pillow and blanket pulled up to the nape of his neck. That shock of yellow hair stood visible, as it always, always did.
Serizawa loved him.
( Was that bad too? )
He extricated himself from bed as quietly and slowly as possible, taking great care to not disturb Reigen. He stepped down onto the floor with a practiced lightness, one learned through so many steps over a too-creaky floor belonging to a room he should have been free to make noise in.
(But no, that was too much even for him. Evidence of his own existence in the room disgusted him so deeply that each footstep it took to cross the floor replayed in his mind over and over and over, until each shrill, reproduced creak rattled against the next in a cacophony. So he learned to walk silently.)
Tonight was a bad night.
He found himself on the balcony, gripping the railing with the tightness with one gripped to the railing edging the bough of a great, swaying ship.
Tonight was a bad night.
“Ekubo,” he spoke into the air without thinking. There was a fizzle-POP of energy as the spirit materialized, summoned with little effort on either of their parts. He hadn’t actually meant to call out to the spirit, and certainly hadn’t meant to call him here.
But here they were.
They regarded each other for a beat of silence. In it, Serizawa realized his breathing was unsteady, coming fast and labored. With an audience, he became aware of himself, and locked his jaw tight, forcing himself to take deep breaths through his nose.
Ekubo didn’t say anything for awhile, and his gaze wasn’t judgemental. After a moment under his silent observation, Serizawa had control of his breathing again, and he finally broke eye contact, dropping it again to the street below.
“Bad night?” Ekubo asked quietly, and despite himself, Serizawa chuckled, humorless and dry.
“Yeah,” he admitted. He wanted to add more, felt like he had to add more.
But there was nothing to say.
“Let’s go for a walk,” Ekubo said.
“No,” he replied automatically, with a twitch of his head.
“It wasn’t a suggestion. Go get dressed.”
Serizawa looked up at the spirit, scowling at him. Ekubo scowled back.
It didn’t take long for him to break, though he did so with a sharp exhale through his nose, almost a snort as he turned and stepped back into the apartment.
The ritual of getting dressed was a silent affair, one he did in the dark. Again he was struck with the familiarity of it all. (Not nostalgia, never nostalgia.)
In less time than he wanted, he was stepping out the front door, hardly dressed further than pajamas in his sweats and puffy jacket. He’d also snagged a face mask just in case they encountered someone. It’d look weird if Serizawa was visibly talking to nothing, and he didn’t want to look weird.
He pulled the door closed behind him silently, taking a moment to breathe as he locked up. Leaving the house when he was like this was still something that had to be forced. Old habits die hard. The sinner loves the sin more than himself.
“Where are we going?” he asked, turning towards the spirit and pocketing his hands.
“Crazy,” Ekubo replied with a grin that only received a blank stare in response.
“I hate that joke.”
“That’s why I tell it.”
Serizawa didn’t say anything to that, just turned away from the ghost and barely suppressed a little smirk. His footsteps seemed louder right now than they ever had in his entire life. In his mind, he saw moving in a public space like trying to move through molasses with bits of glass in it. He shook his head, tossing the thought around inside of it, like an animal shaking something dead.
He began descending the stairs of his level.
“Do you want me to walk you?” Ekubo asked from above him.
On the one hand, it’d certainly make communicating easier. On the other, it wasn’t like he wanted to be doing much of that right now. He shook his head, wanting to be alone with his thoughts for awhile longer.
“No. Thanks,” he said, stepping down onto the landing they’d arrived at.
“You’re sure? I could do a couple flips or something. Get the adrenaline pumping…”
“Last time we did that, you pulled something in my back and I was bedridden for three days,” he replied bitterly, to which Ekubo just laughed goodnaturedly.
“It was fun, though.”
Serizawa sighed heavily, in through his nose and out through his mouth, shaking his head minutely. His stubbornness was one of the only things he’d maintained all this time. His appearance was so different that it was always, always commented on when he presented his identification, but his obstinate nature remained so unwavering that anyone from back then would know him from just one conversation.
He wasn’t changing. He was just in a changed environment.
Wasn’t that cruel?
“Yeah,” he said. “It was.”
He stepped off the last step, stopping there, hands in the pockets of his coat. He looked up at Ekubo, furrowing his brows.
“Where now?” he asked.
“Wherever you want.”
Serizawa just looked at him blankly, before turning, fully intent on climbing right back up the stairs.
There was a pressure against his aura, a halting psychic touch that stopped him in his tracks, made him close his eyes and freeze there.
“Don’t do that,” he muttered.
“You need to relax,” Ekubo said above him.
“I can do that inside.”
“Sure you can. But it won’t help.”
Serizawa opened his eyes and looked up at the spirit.
“Let me take you for a walk,” he pressed. Serizawa knit his jaw, flexing the muscles in it as he ground his teeth. It was still so hard not to lash out, and that alone made him much more upset with himself than anyone else.
“Fine,” he finally said.
“You’re going to have to relax,” Ekubo said. Serizawa took a deep breath in through his nose, closing his eyes and letting it out through his mouth.
He counted backwards from twenty-five, timing his breath with every other number. This was the only thing that ever worked, and he cursed the specialist that suggested it every time he used the method.
Possession was uncomfortable for normal people. It was on the edge of unbearable for Serizawa. At first, at least. It wasn’t often anything got past that first, because the feeling of dulled reality was so overwhelming he usually exorcized whatever was trying to get that close.
Forcing calm was easier when he had someone else doing it for him. His perception was hued in green and fizzled at the edges, not unlike seltzer. It had the acrid taste to it too, sharp and strong and disarming.
It was refreshing.
“You’re tense,” he noted with his voice, but not his tone, not his cadence. Serizawa still had the agency to close his eyes, to shake his head minutely.
“I’m always tense.”
“Not like this,” Ekubo replied. “Did you talk to Reigen?”
“Nope,” he said. “I’ll call my therapist in the morning.”
“I’m in your head. I know when a lie’s a lie.”
Serizawa smiled mirthlessly, letting out a chuckle. He let himself be turned back around. Someone else being in control for the time being was actually surprisingly grounding. As much as he didn’t want to be out of the house, walking down the road, it was almost as though he wasn’t. Getting a filtered experience was always easier, and for that it was preferred.
He watched a lot of travel documentaries back then. He’d go on binges, blog entry after blog entry, descriptions of the most life-changing breakfast sandwich to order in whichever failing coffee shop tucked into the twisting streets of Paris. He’d followed one creator that exclusively produced point-of-view no commentary vlogs, walking through streets, sitting on docks, eating at restaurants. It was like being a passenger in life, just for a while.
And that’s exactly what he needed sometimes.
He could feel himself relaxing, even if it was with reluctance.
“You’re a good person,” he said. Feeling his mouth form the words and simultaneously being on the receiving end was bizarre.
“Okay,” Serizawa replied. They were looking down at his feet, watching as they avoided the cracks in the sidewalk. “Thank you.”
“You should tell yourself that more often. Positive reinforcement is good for you.”
“I’m not a dog.”
“Animals are animals.”
“I think I understand now why you and Reigen are always arguing,” he said, lifting his head to look at the black, starless sky.
Ekubo laughed. Feeling someone else’s laughter form in his chest, his throat, the way it spilled from his mouth, made him smile. It was so intimate. No one Serizawa had ever met had experienced this before.
Well, except Reigen.
But Reigen was always going to be unlike anyone he’d ever met.
They walked for a while longer, Ekubo occasionally raising his hand to drag his fingertips along brick walls and through shrubbery. Serizawa lived in a quiet neighborhood. Cars passed occasionally, but the only other night walker they’d encountered was a black and white cat that seemed wholly uninterested in them.
They came to the small bridge that separated this neighborhood from the business district. Serizawa watched his Crocs climb the stairs, a small smile on his face.
“You know those things are ugly, right?” Ekubo mused, and Serizawa chuckled.
“I like them,” he replied, unbristled. Just months ago a comment like that would stick in his brain for days, a new point of obsession. Did he value his own happiness over the opinions of others? The answer was so often no.
He’d made a lot of progress.
They came to a stop in the middle of the bridge. Ekubo perched his elbows on the side of the railing, and looked down at the water below. It was a small creek now, but in a few months, it would fill the entire canal the bridge stretched over.
“You’re not a bad person, Katsuya.”
Serizawa sighed, closing his eyes as he listened to the water below. It was cooler here, and he could feel goosebumps rising on his arms beneath his jacket.
“I know,” he finally admitted, voice a little hoarse under the strain of the words.
“Good,” Ekubo replied simply.
A car passed behind them, briefly washing the scene in light.
“Ready for those flips now?”
Serizawa laughed.