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Reigen thinks he should tell Serizawa before whatever blooming thing they have between them grows to develop into something more stable and steady.
He’s staring back at himself in the bathroom mirror with eyes of absolute vacancy. The window is open, he’s unsure why he’s too lazy to close it. It’s leaving a draft, frigidity making contact with his back in waves of chills that shoot up and down his spine. With every bite of the cold, more and more goosebumps appear on his body until he’s practically covered head to toe.
His body— this body. He finds his eyes drawing downward, up until they meet to glare at the chest reflected back at him. Blinking a few, he sighs, shoulders drooping as his lungs squeeze the last bit of air it has out.
Two double incision scars of a slightly different shade of his own skin tone reside under each pectoral. He’s gotten used to them, maybe he’d say he’s even quite proud of them. Plenty of times he has seen them; however, Serizawa has seen them an absolute total of zero times.
Which brings his brain back onto the train of thought: how would he react?
Serizawa always has this warm demeanor lingering around him— almost like a separate aura that was beside the one he already has, the one of which is a symbol of power stemming from his ESP. It made Reigen come to the belief that his comfort around Serizawa had peaked.
Though, he began to feel as if that thought wasn’t as true as he originally believed it to be. He couldn’t bond with him the way other couples could. Things such as sharing childhood photos, or telling stories from when he was young, couldn’t be done without the uncomfortable feeling of believing he was walking on eggshells of sorts.
And even more of these sort of avoidant habits bloomed when Serizawa started staying over for longer periods of time. Reigen would find himself keeping his shirt on while he slept, or tugging the towel over his chest whenever he finished a shower. They’re almost stupid, the things he does; they scare him to a corner.
The desperation of just blurting, “I’m transgender,” grows when Reigen is sure that simply saying each word would give him the ability to push himself out of a trapped state— eradicating every fear to dust. It’s something more than avoidance ever could.
A part of him— the majority— almost knows Serizawa would accept him wholeheartedly. When the anxiety of coming out poked at him while simply watching a movie, the full weight of Serizawa’s head rested on Reigen’s shoulder. When the fear of rejection buzzed in his skull, Serizawa would have the off chance of holding his hand, his thumb stroking every knuckle.
With every experience, Reigen grew even more fond— attracted— trusting of Serizawa. He thinks now that maybe Serizawa is too kind of a person to hate him for such a thing. Maybe he’d smile when Reigen would share childhood stories and show him pictures of himself when he was younger with long, stringy hair and frilly pink tops.
Though, he had also put trust into his mother before coming out to her. His hopeful train of thought comes to an abrupt halt as her face materializes within his skull. He remembers how confiding he was of her before he quickly learned, upon her words single handedly allowing him to regress any self-discovery, that trust is incredibly fragile.
Albeit, Serizawa is different. He’s certain of it.
Just beyond the bathroom door he hides behind, the person he cares for deeply resides in his bed, still waking up— stirring around. He’s heard a few of his endearing yawns, and he hears another one just now.
He can only place his palms atop his chest to at least attempt to stop his heart from beating out of his rib cage. But upon his eyes finally setting a glance to the door, his heart leaps to his throat, his breath hitching in surprise as eyelids flutter with urgent haste.
When bare feet hit the carpeting of his bedroom floor rather than the piercing cold of tiling, a pulse in his ears somehow picks up even more of an erratic rhythm, up until he finally lets himself drop onto the edge of his side of the bed— the right. Serizawa only shifts lightly with the newfound dip in the mattress.
He’s shaking absolutely everywhere as he scoots himself closer to Serizawa, knees to his chest as he lifts an arm.
Reigen knows he doesn’t have to tell him; he’s certainly not obligated to. But he wants to. He wants to finally show him reminiscent, nostalgic photos of his younger self where he’s gleefully smiling with his long hair dangling beyond his eyes, he wants the unrecognizable name plastered on the back of these photos he has to be left unquestioned, he wants to to no longer feel as if he’s obligated to walk on eggshells.
Eggshells.
The very word he hopes he’ll never have to think of again once he finally knows how Serizawa will react.
Serizawa’s back faces him while he finally gathers the courage to extend his wavering arm, placing a palm atop the other’s shoulder.
He musters the first name of Serizawa’s that still feels fresh on his tongue; though, not necessarily foreign. Just new. “Katsuya,” he says. He lightly shakes Serizawa’s shoulder. He’s pretty unsure why the hell he’s doing this now, but for how much he has tread so far, he’s already way too deep, surely. No one is ever awake and eager to talk at three 'o'clock AM unless they have something eating away at them like some sort of disease and spilling it is their only hope.
Reigen blinks for a moment as stillness falls upon both him and Serizawa, until Serizawa finally begins to stir once more, an awakeness now present in the way his limbs move in a less sluggish manner than before. He turns around to position himself on his side using one arm to prop himself, his other arm covering a single tired eye. The other one remains open, albeit quite bleary. He takes Reigen’s hand with another yawn. “Taka— is it morning?” His voice is incredibly low and hushed, a quietness present in each word he mumbles. “What time is it?”
Despite this swirling hurricane of anxiety forming mercilessly in his stomach, Reigen can’t fight back the urge to smile, just ever so slightly. He relishes the warmth he feels in his palm from the love of another hand. “It’s uh… early. Sorry. Three AM to be exact,” Reigen whispers, resting his chin on his knees. “I want to talk to you, that’s all. But if you want to go back to sleep, go ahead, we can talk later. I really— I really didn’t think this through.”
Serizawa shakes his head, lifting his hand from Reigen’s to slowly but surely bring himself up until his legs are crossed in front of him. He gestures his arms to yank the blanket from its resting place to embrace his shoulders, regardless of the warmth of the shirt he’s already wearing— a wrinkled, black shirt with an unidentifiable band logo plastered atop the center of it.
Once more, and hopefully the final time, a yawn groggily escapes his lips as his eyelids screw shut; though, when they open again, the attentiveness that fills them is indescribably ample.
“Is everything alright?”
Silence is present for only a moment before Reigen turns back to face Serizawa. “Yeah. Nothing’s wrong or anything— ah— I dunno. I just need to tell you something.” He reaches for the hem of his sweatpants, pinching the fabric with two fingers as he begins to fidget with it. “It’s important to me.”
With a quick nod, Serizawa reaches to grab Reigen’s hand once more, giving it a light squeeze as he whispers the words, “You can tell me anything.”
It’s something about the way he says it that makes Reigen practically melt, the same way candle wax liquefies when the wick stays lit for too long. It makes him believe that he does truly mean anything.
Reigen hopes that’s the case.
“Okay,” he sighs breathily, a light waver interfering with his attempt to stabilize his words. “Okay, okay. Uh—” He inhales just as shakily, his legs stationed and almost jellified as his arms tremble slightly with his hands.
Serizawa does that thing again— using his thumb to trace over a part of Reigen’s body. This time, it’s his palm, and he goes back and forth, eyes ever so attentive.
Reigen wonders once more what Serizawa will say— how he’ll react. It’s so, so predictable, yet some sick uncertainty looms above him, around him, within him— everywhere. It litters his brain and pollutes every thought. He can’t help but to fear for his life that Serizawa will get up with a blank slate of a face and walk right through the threshold of the door as soon as he musters the words…
“I’m uh— I’m transgender, Katsuya.”
The deafening silence that follows those words dizzies his head and enables him to almost feel as if he’s going to fall backwards and faint. Concrete fills his head, and his neck is suddenly burdened with much more. He observes each minuscule movement in Serizawa’s face while holding a large sum of air in petrified lungs.
He hates how unreadable the other’s expression is for a split moment. The way his eyes remain perfectly still alongside his lips— his eyebrows— his hands— it’s agonizing how he’s stuck only analyzing what’s at surface value.
And then to Reigen’s relief, Serizawa’s expression shifts, his eyes widening ever so slightly, slack jawed.
With every second the clock hand ticks, a new emotion displays on his face. Surprise— gratitude— happiness— something of an emotion that makes him seem as if he’s on the verge of tears.
He squeezes Reigen’s hand again, smiling lightly as he does so. “Alright,” he whispers. “Thank you, for telling me. I—” He lets out the last little bit of breath he had. He’s so, so breathless alongside Reigen, who didn’t even acknowledge he was holding another breath until he finally allowed his shoulders to slump as he exhaled.
Reigen finds a newfound sense of joy welling up inside of him; though, it’s accompanied by a slight tint of confusion that is expressed with the quirk of his brow. “You don’t have to thank me,” he starts, beginning to extend his arms until they finally wrap around Serizawa’s torso, enveloping him as he presses his palms against his back. “I should be thanking you, for not— for not getting upset.”
“Upset?” Serizawa echoes, letting out something of a dry laugh as he brings his arms up and around Reigen’s neck. “Why would I be upset, ‘Taka? I’m pretty sure that’d be both wrong and hypocritical of me.”
The same time Reigen stills in disbelief— as if he heard something wrong, Serizawa tightens the hug with stable, reliable arms.
“Katsuya,” Reigen whispers, his tone almost quizzical. His breaths go very shallow, his chest rises and falls almost barely with how lightly it maneuvers.
“I’m thanking you for sharing this with me for so, so many reasons.” The sincerity laced in each word he speaks hits Reigen’s skin— raw— like the bitter cold that had left goosebumps all over his body earlier, head to toe. “I’m thanking you for putting so much trust in me. It can be— is— scary… telling someone that.”
These words Reigen hears spilling out of Serizawa’s mouth almost feel like puzzle pieces.
Maybe Tetris.
Reigen supposes Tetris is like certain aspects of his life— where within it are moments where he sits there and watches as all the pieces finally come into place.
As he processes each word— each line of affirmation— he watches before him as the pieces finally fit together.
“I’m also… transgender. I’m sorry if I’m not making that clear,” Serizawa says. It’s almost a murmur.
That final piece of affirmation, and the confirmation of it all, falls in the perfect slot, painting and completing this beautiful picture of absolute honesty.
The waterline of Reigen’s eyes brim, glassy.
“You know,” Serizawa starts, pulling back ever so slightly, “I was actually planning on telling you, but at the last minute I always ended up just— not saying anything. I kept telling myself I could trust you and that you wouldn’t react negatively but I’d always get overwhelmed. I thought if I kept dwelling on it I’d explode something.” He chuckles. “I didn’t actually explode anything, don’t worry—”
He pulls back just a bit further, the last word falling off his tongue brought to a complete halt as he grins at Reigen. “I’m rambling.”
Reigen nods, laughing wetly as he wipes an eye. “Yeah.”
Serizawa’s lips thin as he lengthens the duration of his grin, clearing his throat shortly after. “Okay— what I'm trying to say here is that coming out to people is not always easy— nerve wracking, actually.”
A hum of agreement comes from Reigen as he nods once more.
“I’m… glad you felt comfortable enough to tell me.” A small light glistens in his eyes, the sclera now just a bit brighter than usual. “And— and, I’m glad I was able to tell you.”
A weight that could almost be described as a fifty pound bag of concrete is being lifted off of Reigen’s back, he can feel it in the way tension melts from his shoulders the same way the word ‘transgender’ will slip off his tongue with a new sense of ease.
His limbs proceed to soften— every finger curls in— the clench of his jaw begins to relax at a constant— his head becomes lenient as he brings himself forward to slump his forehead against Serizawa’s shoulder.
He lets his bangs flatten on it— leans his weight on it. He inhales and smells the comfort of Serizawa himself from the shirt, and never had he felt so much love swell in his heart before now.
Sighing, he deflates like a balloon freed of the fate of almost popping. “I’m glad you told me.” He shuts his eyes. “I just— now I wish I had done this sooner.”
Serizawa shifts slightly, resting his head gently atop Reigen’s as he processes the words just said into the open air of Reigen’s bedroom.
Reigen can feel his chest ache as he feels dark, curly hair contrasting against the bleached brown of his own.
Lifting his head momentarily, Serizawa kisses the top of Reigen’s head. “You can’t change the past,” he says, his head resuming to rest atop Reigen’s as each word he chooses is to be carefully picked, “or… how you wish it could’ve gone differently. You say that it would’ve been nice to have this conversation earlier— maybe— but the fact that we’re talking about this at all is because you took initiative and said something. The fact that we’re having this conversation at all is… nice.”
Very subtly, Reigen nods, careful not to rock Serizawa’s head too much. “Yeah.” He swallows. “It just took me long enough to tell you because of my mother.”
Serizawa lifts his head again, Reigen follows— regrettably— and he’s quick to hang his head to the side. If he can keep eyes away from eyes, he’s sure this inevitable conversation will be easier.
“Was she… not accepting?”
He then very, very quickly finds out it’s not any easier, because the words still get caught up in his throat, and the memories of rejection aren’t any easier to digest.
“It’s hard to say. It took her many years to call me by my name, and she has only ever used it through email. When I was younger, she never really took it seriously. I had uh— suppressed it, pretty much. Um, after an argument with her.” He clears his throat, a subtle haste in his tone as he looks down at the sheets, pinching the hem of his sweatpants again. He uses his free hand to waver it reassuringly, a desperate way to defend himself. “Don’t worry about it, though! I promise I’m doing much better—“
He’s interrupted by his hand being blanketed over by another set of hands, and that’s when he finally brings his eyes away from pointless space, craning his head to take in Serizawa’s face. There’s this very specific sorrow plastered on it, a type Reigen’s unsure he’s ever witnessed before. Serizawa’s eyebrows furrow deeper than they usually do— there’s a glint in his partly open eyes, alongside a very deep, sweet type of love and concern.
“I’m fine. Plus, barely anyone knows my deadname now, so that’s good. That’s a plus.”
That face remains unmoving, until Serizawa finally sucks in a breath. “You didn’t deserve that,” he blurts, “and I hope you know that.”
Reigen’s lips thin into a small smile. “Yeah, I know that now.”
Serizawa squeezes Reigen’s hand very lightly again. “No, ‘Taka. You didn’t deserve that.” He leans in ever so slightly. “A parent should never turn their kid down like that.”
“I know,” Reigen croaks. “I…”
“She should love you for you, ‘Taka. You’re you.”
Serizawa takes his hand and lifts it to cradle Reigen’s face, and he immediately melts into the touch. Serizawa’s hand is so warm against his cheek— grounding— promising.
“Yeah,” Reigen replies, so gratefully savoring the warmth, a type of warmth that makes him believe everything really will be okay, the same way Serizawa’s words do. “She… she really did turn me down, didn’t she…” Saying it aloud concocts this juxtaposition of sorrow and relief deep within him. His lips thin.
Mourning doves begin to cry outside the bedroom window; though, the sky is nowhere near close to shifting from a navy blue to a hazy orange.
Reigen drags his eyes to the pearly glare of a bright moon peeking through the dusty shutters. He opens his mouth as the thoughts in his head pour down to his vocal cords, only for it to be interrupted by an absolute beam of a grin filled to the brim with so, so much alleviation.
There’s a slight burning in his sinuses, he knows there’s tears welling up in his eyes as they begin to glisten. “I’m glad I’m not confused anymore.” He whispers it into Serizawa’s palm.
Serizawa feels the way Reigen melts further into the touch, and he reciprocates a smile with gleaming eyes and all. “And I’m glad for you, ‘Taka,” he says.
Reevaluating his thought process from the past hour, Reigen can only wonder how he ever felt so reluctant.
Of course, it’s easy to think that with the information he has now. Knowing that this loving boyfriend of his respects him all the same, all the while sharing this unique, thrilling experience of being transgender.
With another barrier once between them peeled away, Reigen would soon find out that Serizawa absolutely cannot stand testosterone injections and always went for gel.
Serizawa would soon find out that Reigen hates the feeling of sticky, uncomfortable sensations on his skin and much rather prefers the haste of injections.
They shared a casual conversation about it after eating takeout one night. The comfort of it all still swells Reigen’s heart tenfold.
“I don’t know how you like the gel, Katsuya,” Reigen voices, a tease in his tone as he watches Serizawa motion his gelled palm on his opposing upper arm. He had just finished with his injection.
Serizawa gives Reigen a glance as he stores the tube of gel in the medicine cabinet upon washing his hands.
“Likewise with the shots, ‘Taka.”
“Each to our own,” Reigen quips, thumb pointing at his chest as an expression of proudness forms onto his face.
Serizawa smiles at that gesture, and Reigen’s proud face quickly melts into a fond expression that reciprocates.
And later that night, after playful banter finally fell short and the light switches were flipped, Reigen truly appreciates the soft fabric of his comforter brushing up against his bare back, and the soft snores of his boyfriend as he holds him close.