Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Are…are you sure?”

“Yeah, yeah, I already paid for it over the phone, you just have to pick it up. Take Mob with you.”

“Um, ok.” Serizawa pulls at his collar and watches Mob across the room, blushing awkwardly under the croaky praise of an elderly client. You are such a handsome young man! she says, grabbing at his clothes and mentioning how sharp he looks. If she were about fifty years younger it’d probably be creepy. 

“It’s just a few blocks, I’ll text you the address.” 

Serizawa nods, training his gaze anywhere but on Reigen. He can do this. It’s not far, and it’s already paid for. He won’t even be alone, it’s fine. “Got it.”

“Mob!” Reigen motions for him to join Serizawa at the door. He quickly mentions to Serizawa that he’ll get this lady out before they come back, then rushes over to the client with an effusive apology at the ready. He feels the pressure where Reigen’s hand touched his elbow as they descend the stairs, gone again when they reach the street, biting early-spring air seizing all exposed skin. 

Serizawa gives the lowdown to Mob on the way. He’s not sure whether or not Mob really gets that Reigen was saving him from the old woman’s attention, but he seems relieved nonetheless. Serizawa tries to follow suit. Things like this shouldn’t be this hard, and they aren’t usually, not when he actually manages to pick up the phone, talk to the client, schedule the appointment and make the reservation. It’s just another person, he tells himself. This stuff isn’t a big deal anymore. But when it’s a place he’s never been, a food order he doesn’t know all the details of, a colleague he hasn’t seen in a few weeks… He’s just out of practice, that’s all. 

Despite being coworkers in a three-person office, he and Mob don’t actually spend much time together. Serizawa thinks Reigen might like it better that way, vaguely possessive and secretive when it comes to their plans outside the office. He gives Mob the window seat whenever they travel anywhere, keeps a stock of milk in the mini-fridge for him even though Mob’s only part-time-part-time right now. He’s like a parent trying to bribe their kid into picking them in the custody battle. It’s a little funny to Serizawa, and he’d tell Reigen that he isn’t anywhere close to being a threat to what they have—but he hasn’t found the right way to say it. There are a lot of things he finds hard to say to Reigen. 

Serizawa asks Mob about school for lack of much else in common between them, besides being ESPers. It’s actually sort of nice, being around someone who doesn’t treat his powers like a big deal because they aren’t, really. Not compared to Mob and not compared to anyone else. Like Reigen always says, everyone has their talents. He hasn’t hurt anyone with his in a long time. As far as he knows, Mob hasn’t either.

And perhaps because they’re so similar, the way Mob understands him so well also means he has an unnerving way of seeing right through Serizawa. Not unwelcoming, but not particularly fun if you don’t want to be seen. At least not to the core. Serizawa focuses on following the GPS route on his phone. It’s only four blocks, he’d have to be stupid to get lost. But, just in case. 

“I also beat my personal record on the 5k last weekend.” He’s beaming by Mob-standards, and Serizawa feels relief that Mob doesn’t seem to sense any of his anxiety.

“That’s great, M–Shigeo.” This is the third time Serizawa’s almost slipped up. In the beginning it was second nature to call Mob Shigeo—after all, he didn’t know the boy well enough to use a nickname, and a nickname like that no less… But over time, as Mob became less of a person they talked to and more of a person they talked about, Serizawa came into the unfortunate habit of picking up Reigen’s phrase. Shigeo, he mouths the name under his breath, the traffic at the stoplight hushing the sound as they approach the building. 

It’s poorly lit inside, and the hostess drags them into seats at the bar before they can get a word in about their pick-up order. She sets menus and appetizers, hot tea in small cups in front of them while she rattles on about the lunch special. She talks so quickly neither of them catch much of what she’s saying, umm-ing and ahh-ing while looking for an opening at such consistent intervals that they begin to sound like a religious chorus. 

“So two lunch specials? Yes?”

Mob stares at Serizawa with a panicked expression, eyes full and wobbling. Serizawa sputters out, “Uh, oh, well—”

“Two lunch specials. Sit, sit.” She calls back to the kitchen then disappears for the next twenty minutes. No other customers arrive to drag her attention back, and after his failure to capture it while she was literally standing in front of him, Serizawa decides it’ll be a surprise for Reigen tomorrow. And he won’t use the company card, either, he should have enough cash in his wallet. He’ll have to walk home instead of taking the train, but…

“Serizawa?”

“Hm? Oh, yes. I agree. Plain is definitely better.” Focus. It’s not even a hard conversation to follow. 

He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous, really. Mob was the first person to offer to be his friend. Not an employer, not a savior from his situation, just a friend, nothing more. When Serizawa sat in the wreckage of his former life, surrounded by said wreckers offering him another way, he never thought it would turn out like this. People had promised nice things before, they didn’t often come to pass. He accepted Mob’s friendship and Reigen’s employment with no expectation of longevity. Gratefulness settles the tension around his shoulders, and he sips his tea in tandem with Mob. It’s not backsliding, he’s just out of practice. He listens to Mob debate the merits of greek yogurt over regular yogurt, and his arguments are pretty sound. Must be something he picked up from Reigen. 

If Serizawa’s honest, it seemed more likely that between the two of them, Mob would have been the one he’d get close to. He never got along great with his peers. Reigen is exactly the kind of guy that made Serizawa feel like a speck when he was in school. Someone with effortless confidence that never ran dry, who had the looks and personality to back it all up. And worse, who wasn’t even mean, who would remember his name when they passed in the halls, a small nod of recognition. Too cool to even bother acknowledging how beneath him he was. After all, everyone is. The same type to never be around when he actually was being picked on, breezing through life without a way to hate him or bring him closer. 

Well, he was wrong about pretty much every single one of those assumptions. Reigen’s confidence isn’t effortless, and it does run dry. Serizawa thinks of it as a privilege to see the facade slip, though Reigen’s always embarrassed at being caught out. And Serizawa thinks it’s pretty great to see him like that, too. 

“Serizawa?”

Shit. Did he space out again? He just needs to get it out of his head. Nothing happened, really. It’s Reigen. Your boss, remember? Well, they’d already had the ‘we can be both friends and colleagues’ talk a while ago. We’re more like partners, anyway, Reigen had said. This line of thinking isn’t helping. And it was days ago, it didn’t mean anything. “Sorry, what’s up, Shigeo?”

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

Serizawa feels the sweat prickle under his suit. Maybe the kid is telepathic, after all. “Uh, ok?”

“How do you know when you’re in love with someone?”

Serizawa chokes on his tea, splatter landing on his sleeve. He pounds his chest and dabs the spot with a napkin. “Sorry—” He coughs harder, actually worried for a second before the liquid passes down his throat and he can breathe normally again. He was hoping maybe the violent coughing would distract Mob from his question, but the kid’s still staring at him unflinching, waiting for an answer. 

Serizawa tries for a smile, though it comes out more like a grimace. “Oh, I’m really not the best person to—”

“Please? Master Reigen’s advice didn’t help much. He said it’s because he’s terrible with women.”

Serizawa swallows down hope. He’s pretty terrible with women too, technically, though it probably has a lot to do with his lack of interest. He can’t assume it’s the same for Reigen.

Mob looks at him with such genuine patience and interest, even Serizawa’s anxiety is no match for its sincerity. He fiddles with his cuffs, rolling them up his arms as he fumbles through his words.

“Uh,” he clears his throat. “I think the ‘with’ part counts, as in, I don’t think you can really be in love with somebody unless you’re, you know. With them. And I’ve never been in a relationship before. But, I guess I have been in-love, just the regular kind.” Serizawa thanks the dimness now, he doesn’t want Mob to see him blush. He realizes this is the first time he’s ever said that out loud.

“How is it different than in-like?”

Serizawa smiles. As much as they’re alike, Mob never fails to surprise him with little insights and perspectives he never would have seen on his own. He understands why Reigen’s so fond. 

“Well, I think you’re probably still in-like, at the same time that you’re in-love.”

Mob casts his eyes down. “This is confusing.”

Serizawa huffs a soft chuckle. “I agree, if that makes it any better.”

“Not really.”

“Sorry…” Serizawa isn’t good with words, they’ve never been his thing. Actions aren’t really his thing either, or even thinking out ahead of time what to say or do. Mob’s too stoic to sigh audibly but Serizawa feels the disappointment anyway. He tries again. “But it is sort of different.”

“How?”

He takes a breath, blows on his tea even though it’s lukewarm by now. “They’re probably your favorite person. I mean, I guess they don’t have to be, but they probably are.” He thinks of the texture of Reigen’s tie, the times it’s slipped between his fingers when he’s had to pick Reigen up after various haywire exorcisms. The downside of getting the hang of things means fewer moments like those. It looks like it should be soft, silky, but it isn't. It’s scratchy, cheap, misspelled designer label on the back side. Serizawa bites down his smile.   

“You think about them all the time, but not just, you know, sitting there thinking of what they look like.” He dares a glance at Mob who watches back with a studied gaze. “It’s more like, the little parts of your everyday life start reminding you of them. Like when you get food you wonder if they’re hungry too. You might see an ad that you know they’d laugh at, so you take a picture to show them later. Or—you notice an ice cream shop serves their favorite flavor even if you don’t like it that much.”

“I see,” Mob says, his brow furrowing, though he doesn’t seem dismayed, thank god. Serizawa isn’t sure how much sense he’s making or if he’s starting to get too specific. Sweat cools around his neck as a draft comes through. Someone different—not the hostess—breezes through to drop their bowls in front of them and is gone just as quickly. Serizawa remembers that he’s starving and uses chugging half the broth in his bowl as an excuse to stop talking.

“But,” Mob picks around his noodles with his chopsticks. “I love my friends too, and the things I see every day remind me of them all the time.”

Serizawa sets his bowl down, grabs a piece of pork. “That makes sense. It’s not true for everybody, but I think that’s probably why it’s easier to fall in love with a friend. In lots of movies people tell the person they’re in love with that they’re best friends.”

Come on, Reigen teased. They’d barely had half a drink and he was already well past buzzed. Seriously? How am I not your best friend? Serizawa knew he was red, but to be fair so was Reigen. Lightweight. You’re my boss, Serizawa had said, looking at his hands. Reigen stood over him as he sat on the arm of the couch, no real room in Reigen’s kitchenette for a dining table. Reigen had mixed their drinks on the counter and reached back blindly for the bottle. 

That’s a formality, Reigen waved him off. He uncapped the bottle and Serizawa swiped it from his grasp, making to add more to his own drink. He held it instead, knowing Reigen would get distracted almost immediately and that’s all he was after, really. Reigen would likely be embarrassed about this in the morning—Serizawa felt compelled to save him from any more unnecessary self-flagellating. We’re literally drinking at my apartment, I think that counts as like, twenty different HR violations. Serizawa ducked his head to hide his smile.

Reigen was the first person Serizawa had ever canceled plans for. Mostly a byproduct of not having many social engagements overall, but still. He was only supposed to stop over for a few minutes then head out for dinner with his classmates, a movie afterward. With what money? Reigen had asked. I know how much you make, you know. It’s been a dry month. Probably another HR violation to even mention his income—Serizawa felt strangely flattered and insulted at the same time. It was obvious he didn’t want Serizawa to leave. 

Reigen negged the dinner spot and the movie multiple times, overpriced and underwhelming. It was almost mean, but Reigen’s lack of eye contact meant he was trying something, hoping it would work. When Reigen brought out the bottle—it’s a hell of a lot cheaper—Serizawa texted the group and said he had a headache. Two hours later Reigen seemed insistent on gloating.

Really though, who else would it even be? Sorry—that… that came out weird. I just mean—Whatever. No, I’m right, so I’m not sorry.

Serizawa laughed, he couldn’t bother to be offended. Reigen’s eyes swept over him for just a moment before he tipped back the rest of his glass. 

Am I your best friend? Serizawa asked, expecting him to bring up college or hometown friends he didn’t know about.

Reigen huffed. You see anyone else around here? Right then foam bubbled over the rim of the pot on the stove, Reigen swearing and lifting it up, burning himself, panicking until Serizawa lifted it with his powers and placed it in the sink. 

Reigen wiped his brow. That was a close one. Serizawa used his powers to nudge Reigen’s body toward the sink, turn on the cold tap and guide Reigen’s hand under the spray. Usually he’d fuss, but Serizawa guessed he was drunk enough not to care. Reigen leaned against the counter and faced him, talking quickly like he does when he’s embarrassed. Ever tell you about the time I almost burned down the house in high school? God, my mom lost it…

Oh, Serizawa thought, the realization dripping in slow drunken dollops into his chest that yes, Reigen is his best friend. Solidly, unequivocally, obviously. Reigen was right—who else would it be? He’s never had one of those before. It’s a special title, he knows that, but does it preclude add-ons? For how much Reigen lies casually, Serizawa constantly worries that he’s misleading Reigen somehow, letting him think everything is hunky dory when it’s not. Well, it is, but. He wants more than this.

“Um,” Serizawa chokes on a piece of scallion, beating his chest with a fist. “Not that movies are everything.”

“Master Reigen says romantic movies are unrealistic.”

Serizawa smirks, he’s heard the same line from Reigen before too. As if B-horror movies are any closer to reality. “I guess he’s right. But if we’re just, uh, talking about how it feels… to be in love—” Serizawa swallows, takes another sip of tea. There’s nothing technically caught in his throat anymore, but he tries to wash it down nonetheless. 

“I’m sorry for interrupting. Please continue.” Mob nods in a semi-bow of respect, and Serizawa takes too long dabbing his mouth with his napkin to tell him it’s not necessary.

The chill from earlier is gone, now he’s sweating over dried sweat, making his arms feel slimy inside his sleeves. “That’s all, I guess. Or—I don’t know. The cheesy stuff is sort of real. You know. How, um. A day wouldn’t be a day without talking to them, and a night wouldn’t be a night if you didn’t fall asleep thinking about them. That kind of thing. And you look out for each other without thinking about it too much. I think that’s the big difference. It’s pretty obvious when you’re in-like, but in-love is more like an instinct. You don’t know you did it until it’s done.”

I didn’t think before I saved Reigen the first time we met, I just…went with it, Serizawa thinks. On instinct. So does that… the whole time? No, I should clarify, Mob will get the wrong idea—

“Oh, I understand.” Mob finishes his tea and takes his first bite of ramen. After he swallows, he says, “You’re in love with Master Reigen.”

Panic. He’s hot then freezing in under a second, voice cracking and choking in his throat. Serizawa fumbles for words and in their absence, he eventually looks down at his half empty bowl, stomach twisting. It’s Mob, of course he’d figure it out. Of course he’d know right away. Another customer arrives, bell on the door jingling as the hostess returns from the back to hustle the couple over to the other side of the bar. 

At the same time that Serizawa blurts, “Please don’t tell Reigen!” Mob says, “I won’t tell Master Reigen.” After the courtesy silence passes, Mob takes the lead. 

“I won’t say anything if you don’t want me to. But I don’t think you have to worry so much.”

“W-what makes you say that?” When Serizawa risks a glance over, Mob’s expression is mostly blank, taking another bite of ramen.

Mob shrugs. “I don’t know if Master Reigen feels that way about you, but I know you’re very important to him.”

Serizawa’s fleeting hope evaporates like a too-thin bubble on the breeze. He muscles through.  “That’s nice of you to say, Shigeo. You’re important to him too.”

“I know. He tells me sometimes, these days.” 

“I’m glad.”

“He said you’re important to him too.”

“He did? When?” Serizawa wants to grab Mob by the shoulders, shake until the answers drop out of him like a piggy bank. He puts his hands in his lap, just in case. 

“The last time we got dinner.” Mob pauses between bites. “He said that the people in his life are very important to him. They keep him grounded.”

People, Serizawa notes. Multiple. Just one of many that mean something. That’s normal. That shouldn’t make him sad. He is Reigen’s ‘best friend,’ after all. It’s more than nothing. He wonders who else belongs in that group, if any of them are also living adults.

Mob looks like he wants to say something, but withers before he can say it and closes his mouth.

“What is it, Mob?” Serizawa doesn’t correct himself, and Mob doesn’t seem to notice.

“Well, I’m just not sure if I’m right. And it would be cruel to give you hope if there wasn’t actually a good reason to hope.”

Serizawa swallows. The blind leading the blind, but there’s safety in numbers, right?

“It’s ok, if you’re wrong. I’d like to hear it.”

Mob sighs. “Before Master Reigen told me the truth about his powers, he liked to show off a lot when I was around. He talked a lot about the things he could do and what he’d done in the past. It sounded really impressive. I think that was the main point. He wants to impress people.”

Serizawa nods. Yes, Reigen has a knack for that. He never told Serizawa outright that he doesn’t have powers, just started referring to his lack of them as if Serizawa already knew. Which was fine, because he did. But Reigen’s best impressions don’t have anything to do with psychic prowess. Sitting there thinking of Reigen while the person beside Serizawa knows that he’s thinking of Reigen makes him look at his lap, cheeks pinking. 

“But after he told me, he stopped showing off so much. Ritsu says it’s because he doesn’t have anything to prove anymore. He already knows that I like him just the way he is. But he still shows off for you, doesn’t he?”

“Uh, I mean—sort of. Just a little. Not all the time.” He thinks of last month, when Reigen surprised them with a late lunch reservation at a new high-end restaurant that just opened. Michelin stars, a maitre d, the works. Of course it was at 4pm, the only time he could actually secure a table without bribing the hostess, but still. He asked Serizawa no less than five times if it was pretty spectacular, or what?  

Mob nods. “That’s right. In my Biology class we learned about sexual dimorphism—”

“Oh, I—” Serizwa chokes. “No, I didn’t mean that—We don’t have to talk about—”

“It’s when the male of a species uses its appearance to court its partner for mating season. Birds especially do all kinds of dances and sing strange songs. I think it’s sort of like that. It’s not that he’s lying anymore, he’s just showing off.”

Serizawa can hear Reigen’s voice in his head, snippy at being compared to a squawking bird doing a mating dance. He bites on his smile until he frowns for real, suddenly Reigen’s actual voice is behind him.

“Hey! There you two are, where the hell did you go?” Reigen stands as a dark silhouette against the light pouring in from the door, brushing past the hostess stand and straight over to the bar. His hands clap down on both their shoulders, the grip firm and frantic. “It’s a pick-up order, it should have taken only five minutes—”

“Reigen!” The hostess appears behind the bar, flapping her hands. “Your order’s been waiting, how come you didn’t send—” 

Reigen makes a pinched face at the woman, gripping their shoulders and shaking them lightly. 

“Them?” She’s incredulous. “These are the two you said were picking up?” Her eyebrow quirks and her face changes to confusion, then suspicion—Serizawa gets the feeling there’s a silent conversation happening between Reigen and this woman using their facial expressions alone. At last she nods her head and puts her hands up in defense. “My mistake. Here’s your order. You two, lunch special’s fifty percent off, ok?”

Reigen hands his card over the counter before Serizawa can stop him. He glances down at Serizawa when he turns, waves him off. “It’s a business expense, it’s fine. I know what she’s like.”

On the way back to the office, Reigen walks ahead of them, facing backwards and gesturing. Mob and Serizawa crack a low tree branch and keep a car door closed respectively to save Reigen from injury.

“Seriously, not even a text? You were gone for almost an hour, what the hell am I supposed to think? And don’t even think about going union, ok? You guys get a fair wage and fair breaks and you know it. We’re a struggling small business. I do what I can.”

They always silence their phones when they’re in the office, both must have forgotten during the outing. Serizawa takes his out of his pocket to see nine missed calls from Reigen. They apologize I’m sorry (Master) Reigen in almost-unison. 

“Can’t have the two best ESPers in the city running off on me, can I?” Reigen shakes his head and faces forward, squinting against the wind. He fiddles with the buttons on his jacket, shoves his hands in his pockets, then repeats the cycle.

Serizawa should have noticed sooner. Reigen was actually worried. It wasn’t that long ago that Mob was almost kidnapped and killed. Claw is long dead, but Serizawa understands the way worry lingers even when you know it should have left. He does a half jog to catch up with Reigen, motions with his hand for Mob to keep back.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. He waits for Reigen to meet his eyes before continuing. “I’ll keep my ringer on from now on. I promise.”

Reigen waves him off. “It’s fine. I’m just being stupid.”

“It’s not stupid. I get it.” They glance back at Mob, who flicks his finger to send a leaf spiraling toward the ground back into the air. “I would have worried too. Worse probably. I might’ve lifted up the whole block if I was panicked enough.”

Reigen nudges him with an elbow. “You’re not like that anymore. And seriously, it’s fine. I just got paranoid. That old hag was skeeving me out.”

“What did she want?”

Reigen goes on to describe what sounds like some kind of inheritance scheme, a haunted heirloom she didn’t want to hand down to her grandchildren, but maybe Master Reigen would want it, maybe she could exchange it for something of value. “Did she flirt with you too? God, first Mob, then me—she’d have better luck with an actual ghost. She’s halfway there herself.”

Serizawa matches his pace to Reigen’s, watching his face and hands move like syncopated choreography. He wonders if maybe Reigen’s secretly good at dancing, if he’s ever been carefree enough to even try. Serizawa wouldn’t judge, he’s definitely no good. He thinks of stilling one of Reigen’s waving hands where it is in the air, slipping his fingers between Reigen’s and pulling him in, a hand on his waist. He’s not in high school for real, but sometimes it feels like he is, hitting all the same juvenile milestones he sees in movies. First job, first grown up friends, mastering his powers, math homework. At the end of high school movies there’s always a big dance, where the two leads finally lose themselves in a sea of students and face each other. Slow rocking back and forth—how small and solid Reigen’s ribcage would feel under his palm—

A car screeches to a halt inches from Serizawa’s right side. He and Reigen startle, Mob jogging up to them. “Please watch the road before you cross,” he says, a wild look of concern in his eyes. Serizawa has the decency to look apologetic—Reigen just gives a wave of his hand to the car and slings his other arm around Mob’s shoulder. Mob sets the car down from where it hovered a few inches off the ground. 

“Thanks, kid. Now what was that jog I saw just now? I thought you were beating records at school.”

“I am, I made the top 50 at the last 5k, and…”

Serizawa’s fine to play second fiddle when Mob’s around, Reigen devoting his attention entirely to him for the rest of the afternoon. Serizawa even handles a client all by himself, from greeting her at the door to listening to the issue and not even making much of a face at the spirit slobbering over her head. He takes her into Reigen’s massage room and lights some aromatherapy candles, does some vague humming and gestures over her head while he quickly exorcizes the actual spirit. It isn’t hard, and she thanks him so profusely and genuinely he feels a little touched. He tends to avoid client praise, and Reigen’s usually happy to soak it all up—he sort of understands why Reigen’s so greedy for it now.

They close up shop for the day, Reigen and Mob lingering by the door for a while as Reigen talks too much. He does this at the end of the day with Serizawa sometimes, and maybe Mob’s right, maybe it is for the same reason. You’re important to him. He realizes that Mob got a raw deal at lunch—he’d barely had any of his ramen and didn’t even get to talk about why he wanted to know what being in love felt like. As Mob reminds them that he really has to go now, Serizawa gives him a side hug and thanks him for his company earlier.

“Thanks for your advice,” Mob says with a small smile. “I’ll take what you said into consideration.”

Serizawa keeps his face hidden from Reigen, though he feels his eyes boring through the back of his head. “Of course. And uh, thanks to you too. I’ll do the same.”

Mob says his final goodbyes and Reigen affectionately tells him to get out of here, kid. He watches until Mob makes it out to the street, then turns around at the window. 

He levels Serizawa with a look: brow quirked, eyes slightly narrowed, something that’s supposed to be a smirk but looks a little too tense for that. “What was that all about?”

“Hm?” Serizawa plays dumb, shoving the rest of his homework into his book bag. 

“What ‘advice’ were you two giving each other?”

“Oh, uh, nothing really.”

Reigen wrinkles his nose. “Spit it out.”

“It’s… it’s personal, that’s all.” Serizawa looks around the room, pats his pockets like he doesn’t already know his stuff is all gathered.

“Personal.” Reigen says it like the word tastes bad and makes a half eye roll before turning away and grabbing his bag. “Whatever,” he murmurs under his breath and flips off the lights.

Reigen is trying very hard not to pry, to respect their privacy despite his deadly curiosity. Serizawa feels bad that they actually were talking about him this time, paranoia spot-on for once. But he’s not ready for that conversation yet, despite Mob’s encouragement. 

On the way to the train Reigen explains how he and the hostess from the ramen place know each other. He was a regular customer when they first opened and their prices were cheaper. He and the lady got to talking and they struck up a deal that he’d get half-off ramen if they got a customer who mentioned that ‘Reigen sent them.’ This was when Mob was only first starting, lean years, if you know what I mean. He pitched this place hard to every customer that walked in, even over the phone or in emails—if he didn’t get someone to bite then he might not be able to afford dinner that night. Eventually the ramen shop and Spirits & Such both managed a regular clientele so that they didn’t need the perks anymore. He still makes an effort to order from them at least once a month even though their prices are much higher now, if just to say hi to the hostess. “She’s pushy, but good people. I’ll make sure she doesn’t hustle you next time.” 

Serizawa chuckles, resisting the urge to drift closer to Reigen as they walk. “I think you’re too nice.”

Reigen looks at him like he sprouted a new head. “What planet are you on?”

“I’m serious!”

“Never been accused of that before,” Reigen snuffs, failing to conceal a blush.

“You are. You make an effort to support your community, even when it’s not the best thing for you.”

Reigen rolls his eyes. “We’re not broke yet, Serizawa.” 

“I know.” But they’re not doing great, either. Serizawa is well aware that paying his full wage means every month is a lean month for Reigen. He talks a lot about advertising campaigns, promotional offers that are supposed to boost them into the green that never really get off the ground. Serizawa understands. He’s exhausted enough between school and his bit (but vital) part in the exorcisms where he strolls in at the end and vanquishes the spirits. He can’t imagine the energy it would take to be the face of Spirits and Such, how much Reigen gives of himself to everyone around him without them even noticing. 

Reigen coughs. “Did you enjoy it at least?”

“Oh, of course, it was amazing. You always pick the good places.”

Reigen smiles. “Yeah, well, we’ll both have to bring our own lunches next week. I can make a big batch of my tonkotsu tomorrow, if you don’t mind having it again. And again, next week.”

“I don’t mind. Yours is better anyway.”

Reigen puts his whole palm over Serizawa’s face, gives a gentle but firm nudge. It’s something he picked up semi-recently, when Serizawa’s just said something that made Reigen feel nice but he wants to act mad about it. Serizawa’s usually too shocked to notice the details, but this time he’s able to feel how warm Reigen’s hand is, even if just in contrast to the cold air. 

They don’t live far from each other, but in opposite directions from the train stop. Reigen claps the middle of his back before stepping toward the train doors. He spins around and nods at Serizawa.

“We still on for tomorrow night?”

“Of course. Always,” Serizawa says. Usually Reigen doesn’t ask—it’s been more of a silent expectation these last few months—and he wonders if he should take it as a sign that he bothered. A sign of what, he has no idea. Since the last time that he canceled plans for Reigen—over a month ago now—Serizawa has decided keeping his Fridays free for Reigen is in everyone’s best interest.

It started out normal enough. Five months ago, they took on a job at another typical test of courage spot, rumors of a spirit at a burnt-out laundromat on the edge of town that stole the faces of anyone who entered. It wasn’t as bad as all that, but there was a spirit—a mean one—who thought it was very funny to toss Reigen into each wall before pinning him to the ceiling, hurling chunks of cement and rebar at him while it cackled. Serizawa threw a barrier over him as quickly as he could, but Reigen walked away with a cracked heel and a broken ankle. He wore a boot for two months, struggling with crutches because the scooter type couldn’t make it upstairs to his office or apartment. 

Serizawa was ashamed to admit he didn’t even think about all the help he’d need—not until Reigen complained about having to get groceries one Friday. He groaned and slumped in his chair so far Serizawa thought he was going to gloop into liquid on the floor. Why does every important place in this city have stairs? He explained that he hadn’t gone shopping in two weeks because he’d been avoiding the market. It’s hard enough hauling my own ass up the stairs, not to mention if I have a bunch of bags to carry. This is going to be such a pain. Serizawa took his cue and offered to help. Reigen made his perfunctory refusal—just once—then they headed to the market after work.

In truth, it was a relief to Serizawa to have an excuse to go. It’s not that he was living in filth, or that he couldn’t bear to face a cashier, but there were too many excuses not to go. Homework, school, cram session with his study group, a late night exorcism, dinner at his mom’s house which meant leftovers for the next week anyway—until the amount of things he needed to buy became truly large, and then it actually was a daunting task. He’d started a list but it got so long he couldn’t look at it anymore or he knew he’d never go. This outing with Reigen would mean he could pick up a few things for himself, put a dent in it like he’d been meaning to. 

Serizawa pushed the cart while Reigen pointed to the things he wanted. He hemmed and hawed a lot about which brands to buy, even going so far as to google reviews of a particular detergent in case their claims about 30% brighter whites! was a lie. It gave Serizawa time to discreetly add things to his own hand basket. He told himself not to go overboard—it would only cause more stress when he had to bring it all home and then, god, put it away too—but inevitably it got heavier and heavier until it hung off his fingertips. He could’ve used his powers to supplement the weight, but he wasn’t quite secure enough in his subtlety to try it.  

“Uh, you can just add your stuff to mine, if that’s getting heavy.” Reigen nodded at Serizawa’s basket, an eyebrow quirked.

“Oh, it’s fine, it’s not heavy. I’m all done, anyway. Just needed to pick up a few things.”

Reigen smirked. “Planning a dinner party I don’t know about?”

Serizawa tried that thing where people laugh instead of answering, and while Reigen gave him an odd look, he didn’t press. He wasn’t ‘all done’ in reality, but adding anything else would actually be too heavy, and putting his groceries next to Reigen’s felt… like something he didn’t want to think about right then. 

Out on the street Serizawa was less afraid of his powers backfiring, and ‘carried’ all fifteen of their bags with two hands. Around the block, up the stairs, even helping Reigen lift things onto the higher shelves. There were four bags left of his own groceries and when Reigen was all settled, he wished him a nice weekend and caught the train home. Reigen offered to make him dinner as payback, but Serizawa had homework and reminded Reigen he’d still need help the next time he got groceries. “Next time, for sure.”

Reigen made a face he wasn’t too familiar with yet, and said ok, next time. Serizawa’s chest thumped hard and that was odd, he was the one who suggested the next time, why would that make him feel—whatever this feeling was. He did his best to put it out of his mind and managed to finish the whole essay without fretting too much. When Saturday morning rolled around it was all he could think about. He burned off the energy by cleaning his whole apartment, finishing up some reading for class and reorganizing his fridge. More room for next week’s shopping. Next week. Less than that, only five days now. Serizawa’s chest thumped again and he decided to go to bed at 6pm—maybe he should try running, like Reigen suggested. It releases endorphins, you’ll feel great afterward. He set his alarm for 5am and didn’t manage to fall asleep until 2.

Reigen didn’t bring up their Friday plans all week so Serizawa didn’t either, deciding by Thursday morning that it probably wasn’t even happening anymore, he’d blown it way out of proportion. And had they even said next week or was it next time? Next time could be a month from now for all he knew, though it probably wouldn’t be more than two weeks since that’s how long it took Reigen to start complaining last time. He knew he was overthinking it, which made him try to think about anything but it, which was really just another way of thinking about it. Gnawing on the end of his pencil in class he finally asked himself what ‘it’ even meant to him. What about ‘it’ was so bad? Slowly pushing a shopping cart through the aisles? No, that didn’t really bother him, even when Reigen was being difficult. Carrying all those bags back, using his powers in public without anyone noticing? That wasn’t so bad either—in fact he’d done it a few times with his backpack when coming back from class that week, his shoulders sagging with the haul. Spending all that time with him in one day and then just leaving when it’s done. Oh, that’s it, he thought. It’s not the doing it that fills him with dread, it’s the fact that it will end and he’ll be back with himself again, trying to be a person. Reigen was more of a person than anyone he’d ever met, and sometimes he wanted to stop doing imitations and just watch the real thing. 

But in truth those things weren’t it either. Because when he plucks up the courage to actually look inside and see what’s sitting there so plainly, it’s that he doesn’t dread it at all. He’s more excited about it than he’s ever been. Watching Reigen’s mind work over something as simple and stupid as a box of cereal. How he loosens his tie after they’ve been there a minute, his gait going slack as his brain fuzzes with hunger. It’s different than when he rolls up his sleeves for an exorcism or a massage. It’s for his comfort only, and Serizawa feels all at once desperate to know what makes Reigen feel good. To see the inside of his home, a whole room that smells like him—not coffee or incense or massage oil. How he bunches his clothes in piles but with clear separation, socks in one corner, shirts in another. That big TV and imagining Reigen sitting in front of it, scaring himself half to death with some gore that pales in comparison to the real horrors he sees everyday, that he takes for granted as anything other than a day job. He’s so brave, god Serizawa would give anything to have even an ounce of—

Ooooh. Oh. Ok. That was when Serizawa really got it. And it shouldn’t surprise him that he managed to fuck up the rules this badly. Getting chummy with your boss was bad enough, but running past a crush and diving straight for damningly in love was the worst of the worst. How did he let this happen? How had he not even noticed? He’d admired other men before—Suzuki most notably, a relationship that tested and stretched his morals to their absolute limits, limits he was ashamed were so much farther than they should have been. Admiring confident men always led to trouble, but he hadn’t worried with Reigen. He knew Reigen was a good person. Probably the very first thing he ever knew, Reigen whizzing past him to save Mob with no defenses. That’s a good man. That’s a man I love.  

Dear god. Friday was the next day. How in the hell was he going to survive?

Ultimately he didn’t have any other choice. Life away from his room, away from Claw was different in that there was no expectation of doom. The stakes weren’t that high. He wasn’t in danger of hurting anyone just by feeling—he’d proven that much to himself over a couple dozen exorcisms and in-class presentations. There was no grand plan whose success weighed on his ability to fight anyone, subdue others for someone else’s purpose. If anything, Reigen expected success. He’d never been afraid of Serizawa’s powers—not even once—and since surrendering to Reigen’s expectations also happened to be the path of least resistance, he proceeded accordingly. 

When they gathered their bags and flicked off the light on Friday evening, Reigen turned to Serizawa and gestured with his crutch. “You all ready? That spirit earlier didn’t make you too tired to carry things, did it?” 

Serizawa chewed on his smile. “Not at all.”

It became a routine. Shopping with Reigen on Friday, help him down the office stairs using his powers as sneakily as possible, push the cart, pack up all the bags, carry them down the street to Reigen’s apartment, put it all away, talk with Reigen while he makes them dinner, float ingredients over to him so he doesn’t have to walk too much. Eat, and if he doesn’t have too much homework or a study session, let Reigen sucker him into watching some movie he’d never seen but you absolutely need to if you want to call yourself a proper member of society.  

There were a lot of firsts on those Friday nights. The first time Serizawa had ever made a smoothie, the first time he played Uno, watched the Saw series, the first time he made Reigen laugh until he cried, the first time Reigen made Serizawa laugh until he cried. Dropping formalities without thinking. When he finally used Reigen’s first name—as a joke—and Reigen groaned, said he hated it, that he only ever told people because the pun of his name was too good for business. His first Jägerbomb. They went to bars now and then but always quiet places where they’d sit in a booth and do pretty much the same thing they'd be doing at Reigen’s apartment, just paying for it. Serizawa got more of Reigen’s time than he had any right to, but Reigen never made him feel like he was intruding. Any time he voiced such a doubt Reigen was quick to contradict him with good-natured bullying. You always say you’re not a tough guy but you beat yourself up all day long. First time Serizawa openly rolled his eyes at Reigen, the first time he verbally called bullshit on one of Reigen’s exaggerations, the first time he watched him splutter through laughter to justify an absurd claim, jabbing his fingers into Serizawa’s sides as he swore him to secrecy. 

He’d never laughed this much in his life, not even when he was a kid before everything got bad. The familiarity of Fridays bled into their workplace interactions, which was more than welcome if not for the fact that it meant Serizawa got less homework done at the office. On a slow afternoon in February, Reigen suggested they take a long lunch and they caught a matinee-price showing of a superhero movie Serizawa had mentioned the week before. It was a good adaptation by Serizawa’s standards, though Reigen’s only comment was that knowing real-life ESPers made this kind of thing seem a little silly. And the graphics—none of it looks genuine. Guess I can’t blame them. They’ve never met the real deal. He winked, an actual unironic wink and Serizawa was startled enough to scoff and slap Reigen with his own tie using his powers. Not a hard slap, barely anything and he apologized the second after he’d done it. Reigen’s face shifted from blank to busting with laughter. You are so doing overtime this week, he patted Serizawa’s back once he reined himself in. They decided that if Serizawa was allowed the occasional psychic nudge then Reigen was allowed to shove his palm in his face. In hindsight, it was the best slip-up he ever made. 

Serizawa really was overthinking it, because hanging out with Reigen pre- and post-realization turned out to feel almost exactly the same. Maybe a touch more self-conscious—shaving religiously every morning, deodorant every day, cologne every other. The same one Reigen uses, and maybe that’s not the way to get his attention but he knows at least Reigen won’t disapprove. Loving Reigen came naturally, more so than other things. Agreeing with him could be difficult—he talked about himself like he was scum, maybe ‘lowlife’ was the term he used, and when he lost his patience he had a tendency to wish misfortune upon people that far outweighed their nuisance, especially himself. Complying with his demands—professional or not—could also prove challenging. He insisted they take on clients they had no chance of really helping, at least not in a psychic capacity. But Serizawa had put on more than one coverall to clean out someone’s attic, repair creaking pipes that sounded like moaning ghosts, stand behind someone who’s blindfolded and pretend to be the voice of an evil spirit fading away as Reigen works out the knots in their shoulders. He also put Serizawa in charge of ordering supplies for the office but micromanaged his selections so much he might as well have done it himself. He wasn’t a perfect boss, by any means. But an excellent partner, a very good person, and incredibly easy to love. 

Reigen’s 30th birthday still looms in the tangible near-future and as it encroaches, his restlessness grows. The Friday before Serizawa’s lunch with Mob, Reigen barely let them finish their homemade food before he declared that the night was young. Serizawa hazarded a guess—”Where to, the same bar as last time or did you have another in mind?” 

Reigen scoffed. “Forget a bar, let’s go to a club.”

“A club?” Serizawa noticed his shoelace start to hover away from the loops and swallowed. 

“Yeah, why not. Music, strobe lights, shots. You’re not too old for that stuff yet, are you?”

He was asking Serizawa, but Serizawa got the feeling Reigen was really asking himself. 

Serizawa looked at his shoes, double-knotted his laces so he’d have something to do with the energy. “I have no idea, I’ve never been to a club.”

Reigen smirked. “Take off your jacket, leave the rest to me.”

The walk to the train was freezing though Reigen assured him bringing jackets to the club was impractical. You’ll either lose it or get it sweaty and disgusting. Neither of us have the funds to be ruining work uniforms right now. Reigen, however, had the advantage of his full wardrobe at his disposal to change into. Nothing of Reigen’s would ever fit Serizawa, but in the end their outfits weren’t that different from each other. Reigen put on black pants that were nearly identical to the gray, with a black short sleeve button-up open to show his undershirt beneath. Serizawa almost swallowed his tongue when Reigen came out of the bathroom. The whole outing was nearly aborted when Serizawa got fussy over feeling underdressed, but in the end Reigen adjusted the tuck of the plain white tee he had under his button up, sat Serizawa on the toilet and ran wet fingers through the front of his hair until he was satisfied. Reigen made mention that he was due for another haircut soon, but in the meantime the slight wave of his curls returning suited him. 

The praise and attention was overwhelming enough that Serizawa hurried them out to the street—a thumping dark place with strangers was no scarier than fumbling his feelings and admitting something on accident. Only now he was freezing, and the club was still dark and scary. 

“This is a great idea,” Reigen said once they were on the train. They’d had one shot each before they left the apartment, to save money Reigen had said. It clearly had gone to work on Reigen already, loosening his tongue enough to brag this openly. “Honestly, I’m shocked we haven’t done this before. You haven’t really seen all of Seasoning City until you see the nightlife, am I right?”

Serizawa nodded and watched the streetlights whizz by underneath their reflection in the window. He hoped the drinks wouldn’t be too expensive, because he’d need a few as soon as they arrived. 

“Don’t let anyone tell you 30 is old,” Reigen said without prompting.

“Well, no one has—”

“It’s just a number. Maturity is what’s important. And a sense of fun. It’s not like your body disintegrates the second you leave your twenties.” He laughed with his eyes wide open, a disconcerting note of paranoia there. “Right? You’re 30, you’re as strong as ever. Stronger, probably.”

They’d hardly known each other when Serizawa turned 30, but Reigen bought him a Star Wars lego set, one of the expensive ones he never had the cash to buy himself or the courage to ask from his mother. Serizawa tried to refuse it outright, he’d only mentioned once or twice at Reigen’s prodding that he liked to build models, but this was really too much. Don’t worry, Reigen clapped him on the shoulder. If your paycheck’s a little light the next few cycles you know why. Later, when Serizawa had a better handle on the company’s accounting, he realized it did come from someone’s paycheck—namely Reigen’s, and not a small portion of it. One of Reigen’s sweeter quirks, he could be more giving than anyone you’d ever met so long as he had a way to mask the gift as a burden. How many dinners had Reigen made and paid for that got waved away with, don’t worry, you’ll just owe me big time, a debt he never came to collect. 

“This is a big deal for you, isn’t it?” Reigen leaned back to leer at Serizawa. “You don’t normally do this kind of thing.”

“I mean,” he pulled at his collar, sweating under Reigen’s gaze. “It’s not that I’m, uh, completely against it or anything, I just never got around to it. And I wouldn’t want to go alone, so…”

Reigen slung his arm around Serizawa’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure we do this right. Tonight will be hassle-free. You’re in good hands.”

Getting in was the first hassle. The bouncer let in several young women ahead of them but made them wait until some men had filed out. Then there was the cover charge that Reigen didn’t know about. 1600 yen just to get in so they could pay 2000 for a drink. Reigen was agitated and doing a bad job of hiding it. The place was louder than Serizawa thought possible, and he figured excessive alcohol must help drown out the noise. Serizawa didn’t recognize any of the songs and from Reigen’s complaining he guessed the same was true for him. He asked for a double at the bar, knowing it would be easier than trying to wrestle back up there for another drink later. He’d had to make a path with his powers at one point, smushing drunken bodies into each other without their notice. While he paid, a woman beside him with a false eyelash peeling off her eyelid touched his arm without warning, slurring hi there in his ear when he leaned down at her prompting. The bartender nodded at him and asked are you with her?, gesturing next to her bill on the counter. The woman’s hand drifted from his arm to his chest as she winked up at him. Serizawa untangled himself as politely as he could, assuring the bartender that no, he wasn’t with this woman, he’s with—

Reigen was at the other end of the bar, leaning conspiratorially toward another bartender as they gestured at the DJ on the far side of the club. Drunk Reigen moved his face even more than sober Reigen, obvious disapproval while the bartender chuckled, rolled her eyes and made his drink. Sweat tamped down the wisps along his hairline and a high blush ran across his cheeks from the crowded heat. The tendons in his neck stretched as he craned, bottom lip hanging open, jaw slack until he cracked a smile at the bartender’s response. God, he’s so— Serizawa’s drink floated out of his grasp, catching up to it from above and pinning it back to the bar. Reigen caught his gaze and nodded, Serizawa’s chest squeezing at being caught. Reigen paid the bill and when he wasn’t looking, Serizawa noticed the bartender take a second look, then a third before she slid him his receipt. Reigen grabbed onto Serizawa’s shoulders from behind and steered him out to the dance floor, shouting at his ear, we’ve gotta have a word with this DJ. 

She wasn’t the only woman to notice Reigen that night. Serizawa thought he might’ve seen a guy or two give Reigen the same look but he couldn’t be sure, he didn’t know what the signs were. Both a blessing and a curse of spending formative years away from his peers, was that Serizawa missed out on learning any stereotypes of queerness—good or bad. At most some gamers online might throw slurs around, but those were just words disconnected from anything. Serizawa was gay himself, and he couldn’t find any way he majorly differed from anyone besides the actual not-liking-women part. After Reigen finished shouting up at the indifferent DJ, he caught Serizawa by the elbow and dragged him to the middle of the dance floor. Reigen was visibly drunker than before and the middle of the overcrowded floor left hardly any room for movement at all, let alone dancing. A song that everyone else seemed to know—even Reigen—came on and the excited throng undulated so that Serizawa was separated from Reigen by at least eight people. Reigen spun in a tight circle looking for him, and Serizawa lifted a hand above the crowd. They tracked each other as Reigen attempted to swim through the mass, his teeth a strange purply-white as he smiled and winced under the blacklight. Serizawa’s powers came in handy yet again until Reigen was back beside him and they edged to the side of the floor.

Reigen let out a dramatic whew. “Almost drowned back there.” He clapped Serizawa’s shoulder. “Thanks for saving me.” His hand lowered, settling so his pinky grazed the top of Serizawa’s waistband and stayed there as he ushered them off the floor, into the bathroom, then drifted his hand back again like it’d never left to hit the bar once more. Serizawa knew Reigen didn’t need another drink and tried to tell this to the bartender who smirked while Reigen talked over him, covered his face with his palm and shushed him into submission. Reigen gave her an exaggerated bow as he thanked her, musing on his personal recipe for the lemon sour and how it differed from hers. Namely, that his was better.

It occurred to Serizawa that clubs were a popular place to meet people, single people especially, and maybe that was part of Reigen’s plan. Maybe he was expected to find someone for himself too, a thought that made him order another drink for courage. The alcohol didn’t feel like it was working—maybe he was sweating it all out before it could get to his blood. When Reigen finished paying, Serizawa reached out and hooked a finger into his belt loop, tugging him to the side. 

“Um, do you want me to go?”

Reigen shouted what? four times to confirm that’s what he’d really said. “Why the hell would I want that?”

“So you can, uh, you know.” Serizawa hated shouting this, his stomach pinching uncomfortably. “If you wanted to go home with someone else, that’s totally fine—”

Reigen’s scoff was muted by the sound but he rolled his eyes and made a face. “As if. We’re celebrating our youth tonight, not trying to settle down. Come on, let’s see if that DJ knows Cascada.”

His hand on Serizawa’s back again. Not the first time they touched in a way that made Serizawa blush. Reigen has fallen asleep on Serizawa on the train, during movies—anytime he’s not required to talk for more than a fifteen minute stretch lulls him to sleep. Serizawa started to worry that Reigen doesn’t sleep much to begin with, exhaustion overtaking him when there’s opportunity. But unconscious affection doesn’t count for much. The press of people and alcohol, a whirl of sound and bass beating at Serizawa made Reigen’s hand the easiest thing to focus on, warm through his t-shirt, nails sharp but clipped when he curled his fingers against his side. That was still his hand, wasn’t it? Serizawa didn’t imagine it, alcohol can’t make you hallucinate. Between the heat and the drinks he was glad Reigen wouldn’t be able to notice how happy this night made him, if just for this. The DJ said something back that made Reigen’s whole face contort in rage and he used Serizawa as a shield to push them across the floor, left to the back exit, and out onto the street.     

The sweat on Reigen’s neck shone as they hustled under streetlights, undershirt clinging to his skin. Serizawa’s back turned rigid and stiff as his own sweat-soaked shirt chilled his body in the night air. Reigen ranted nonstop about what a shithole the club was, that youth these days don’t know what real music is. How can anyone even dance to that? You might as well go hang out by a factory if you just want to hear repetitive sounds. And could you believe those drink prices? Out of their damn minds. 

He disparaged every conceivable aspect of the club and their evening until Serizawa bumped his shoulder with his own, squinting under the glare of a stoplight. 

“I had a good time,” Serizawa said, and Reigen clapped his mouth shut and blinked. 

“Oh,” he said, walking a few steps before bumping back. “Good. I’m glad.” He didn’t complain about the club anymore.

They didn’t know where they were going but neither wanted to go home yet. They made a point of not checking the time, something dumb and exciting about wandering around the city after dark. They realized they were starving and found a pita place that was still open, plopping down on the curb to scarf their food.

Reigen finished his wrap in under a minute, then picked at their shared fries as he sipped on a coke. He bit the straw between his teeth, tugging on it so it whistled against the lid. 

Reigen cleared his throat then kicked Serizawa’s shoe with his own. “Saw you getting some looks tonight, Serizawa. Looking real sharp.” 

Kebab caught in Serizawa’s throat and he struggled to respond with an awkward smile as he swallowed it down. Finally he said, “You too. Um, about the looks, I mean.” 

Reigen scoffed and smiled. “No way.”

“Yes way.”

“Look, I’m fine, I don’t need you to—”

“The bartender, she definitely liked you.” He wasn’t sure why he was saying this. Why was he saying this? Why remind him of other possibilities? Why ruin his own shot?

Reigen waved him off. “She deals with creeps all night, she’s just nice for tips.”

“I don’t think so,” Serizawa said. “I think she just liked you. Why’s that so surprising?”

Reigen laughed in a loud strange bark, mumbling or slurring something Serizawa couldn’t really put together. When Serizawa thought Reigen might say something for real, he instead shoved five fries in his mouth at once, groaning as he chewed.

“God I love fries,” he said, tipping his head back to the stars overhead. He looked perfect, Serizawa thought not for the first time that night. Distracted, rambling, animated and warm and making Serizawa laugh even if it’s not that funny. The tips of Reigen’s ears were pink, hidden by hair when he flopped his head over to Serizawa. “You had any of these yet?” 

Serizawa shook his head no and Reigen threw one at him, Serizawa opening his mouth a moment too late to catch. They tried again, and again, Serizawa floating the fries in the air before they hit the ground when he missed. 

“I love the city at night,” Reigen said at random, running his hands over his knees. “I love this city. You know? You love it, right?”

Serizawa nodded. “Uh huh.”

“It’s the best city, hands down. If there’s one good thing Claw did, it was get you down here.”

Serizawa looked up at the sky then, biting his lip to keep from crying because it didn’t make sense—he was happy, happier than he’d ever been maybe. Certainly. Nothing else even came close. Except maybe weekdays, when he first got into work and Reigen had already made coffee, now burning on the warmer. Or late night cab rides when they let the adrenaline of an exorcism burn off in the silence between them, opening the windows to the breeze if it’s warm enough. Or Friday afternoons when Reigen gets excited about whatever movie he’s going to show Serizawa for the first time, or when Reigen hardly lets him watch the movie because he’s rattling off trivia and making sure Serizawa agrees—it’s good, right? You like it? I said you would. I wasn’t worried, you’ve got good taste. Telling stories about Reigen to his classmates who say he sounds larger than life, and they’re right. Reigen is bigger than Serizawa can hold inside himself but he tries, like shoving the sun into a shoebox. He loves Reigen. Maybe that’s not a good thing, but it is his favorite thing about himself.  

When they finally pulled up the GPS on Serizawa’s phone, it turned out they weren’t far from his apartment. Close enough to walk, Reigen led the way without use of the map—Serizawa grabbed his wrist to tug him left when he turned right, straight when he started to stray. 

Reigen had never been to his apartment before. Not for lack of trying, Serizawa always said there’s nothing to see. Nothing except a messy apartment, a reflection of himself the way Reigen’s was a reflection of him. Their energy faded as they neared the building, feet dragging the last two blocks with exhaustion and inebriation. Serizawa was much drunker than he realized, the edges of light going fuzzy as his vision swayed. He tripped over nothing when they entered the parking lot, and Reigen revealed himself to be in as bad shape when he failed to haul Serizawa up off the floor. 

Serizawa groaned when he sat upright, Reigen’s hand flexing in his own.

“I’m too big,” he frowned down at his body, leaden and immovable. Reigen in the yellowy light concentrated on his grip, tugging hard enough to pull Serizwa’s shoulder from its socket. “Ow. Sorry…” He wasn’t certain his words were intelligible. “Too big. Heavy heavy hea—” 

“Stop that.” Reigen smacked the side of his face. Not hard, but enough to snap Serizawa’s vision into clearer focus. He tugged again until Serizawa whined. “You’re full of shit, ok?” He circled around Serizawa to push on his back. “You’re exactly the size I need you to be. Gotta kill all the monsters for me, right?”

Serizawa flopped his head back. “What?”

“Up!” Reigen shoved until Serizawa at last remembered his legs existed and tucked them under himself to stand. “Come on, you got it. Up! Up, Katshchka— ” 

That last part was supposed to be Serizawa’s first name, he thinks, but Reigen slurred it so badly he couldn’t be sure. It’d be ok if he wanted to use it, Serizawa would have to remind him in the morning. He was too heavy to lean on Reigen this much, but the latter managed to guide him up the stairs and into the hall, even helping put the keys in the door when Serizawa slumped against the frame. 

Serizawa laughed when he flipped on the lights—a full and tied trash bag rested against the already full trash bin, clothes piled onto his singular chair, lego pieces strewn across his tiny kitchen table and his bed in the corner unmade, the fitted sheet peeled off the front right. If Reigen didn’t think he was gross before, there was no avoiding it now. He was happy to be as drunk as he was, the more pressing need to be horizontal overriding the worry. He stumbled to the couch, tripping as he toed off his shoes. The couch caught his fall as he nudged the coffee table away with his powers. When he surfaced from the cushions, Reigen wasn’t in sight. He blinked against the dimness to see the bathroom light on under the door. 

“Reigen?” Serizawa called, and then the tap turned on. He told himself he’d get up and check on Reigen in thirty seconds—no, a minute. Two minutes. Just one more. Then an interminable time had passed and Serizawa hadn’t risen from the couch but Reigen hadn’t come back, either. He nearly rolled off the couch at the same moment Reigen opened the bathroom door, his face wet and the button-up balled in his hand.  

“Reigen,” Serizawa beamed and lolled his head to the side. “You’re back!”

Reigen tripped over a shoe walking to the couch, knees smacking against the floor when he reached Serizawa. 

“You’re back,” he said again and Reigen shushed him. Was he being loud? He couldn’t tell, he only felt joy that Reigen was back. “Where did you go?” 

“Go to sleep.”

“But you’re back, I can’t sleep now.”

“Sleep.” Reigen grabbed a pillow and propped it against the couch, added another after testing its bounce with his back. His hair tickled Serizawa’s cheek, nose practically buried in the back of Reigen’s head. 

“Are you ok?”

Reigen gave him a thumbs up without facing him, and Serizawa leaned up on an elbow to grab Reigen’s chin and wrench it around. Oh, he thought. Oh no. He’s very close to me. Close and he looks… bad.

Reigen’s face was pale and his eyes were hazy but he masked it with a tight smile, turning more fully to push Serizawa back. 

“Don’t worry, ‘m fine.”

“Do you need water or—” 

“Shh.” Reigen punctuated each word with a finger closing Serizawa’s eyelids— Go. To. Sleep . He nudged Serizawa’s chin for the last word so his mouth shut, the heat of Reigen’s body seeping through both their shirts, pressing, steady, warm. Serizawa lost consciousness at the same time Reigen settled back in, the scent of him close and calming.

…

He ignored the sounds at first, faint and scattered then louder, scuttling and shuffling. Someone sighing and hissing at intervals. He turned toward the wall and shuffled his legs in the sheets, body willing him to succumb to the pull of sleep just a little longer. He woke again later without opening his eyes, memory trickling back until he remembered this wasn’t where he fell asleep.

Another shuffling sound, soft footsteps on the floor. When had he moved to the bed? He cracked an eyelid just enough to see through his lashes, and caught sight of Reigen at the kitchen sink, wiping down the counter. Is he… cleaning?  

He turned around and Serizawa willed himself not to move. Reigen hadn’t noticed him yet, leaning against the counter and checking his phone. He sighed and tapped his socked toe against the floor, always moving, always buzzing. Even after last night—how the hell did he manage it?

Then Reigen was moving again, toward Serizawa and he quickly closed his eyes the rest of the way. Be still, he reminded himself. Be asleep. Be asleep. Be asleep.

He heard Reigen’s steps pause at the edge of the bed. A sigh, or maybe a soft laugh, Serizawa couldn’t be sure. Something soft and warm—skin, a knuckle—smoothing a bit of exposed skin between his sleeve and the sheet. Another pause, heat gone, then something brushed his hair and it took everything not to flinch, not out of fear, but surprise. He felt the slow graze of fingernails against his temple. Another pause. That sigh-laugh. 

Steps, faster then, rustling in the kitchen, a tiny click. Scratching on—paper?—another small click. Then there was the unmistakable sound of Reigen putting his shoes on, shuffling on his shirt, and the door creaking open and shut. 

Serizawa shot up, bright afternoon sun glaring into his eyes. He threw an arm over his face for the pain, each ray of light a nail behind his eyes. Once adjusted, he padded to the kitchen, squinting around. It was cleaner—much cleaner—dishes piled neatly in the sink and counters cleared. Serizawa’s schoolwork sat stacked by subject on the table, trash bag gone and bin emptied. On the fridge, a scrap paper with old math problems scrawled along the back was pinned with a magnet.

Sorry about the hangover. See you Monday.

And that evening-night-morning has run on a loop in Serizawa’s mind since it happened almost a week ago. The ramen he had with Mob earlier settles uneasily in his stomach. He only has a protein bar for dinner, class right after work and then reading to catch up on. It doesn’t matter much—he’s hardly had an appetite since their night out. Which is ridiculous, because nothing happened. Serizawa probably had something in his hair and Reigen was doing the polite thing and brushing it out. That’s the most logical conclusion, especially since Reigen was cool as a cucumber at the office on Monday. He’d made plans over the weekend for Mob to visit the office and the anticipation filled their conversation for days. Reigen didn’t mention the note, that they’d gone out at all, nothing. 

So it couldn’t have been meaningful. But Reigen had been odd, too. Quieter in their downtime, running errands alone that he usually sent Serizawa on or saved for the weekend. In fact, the palm in the face after lunch was probably the most touchy Reigen’s been all week. He feels a little creepy keeping tabs on every time Reigen does it, but it can’t be helped. He won’t let himself get carried away—their partnership is too important to him—so tallying these moments feels like the most logical way to determine if there’s hope. What’s more troubling is that even when the evidence seems thin, he finds himself hoping. He’s hoping right now, crammed between a mass of people standing on the train, that Reigen will respond to his text about watching Terminator tomorrow night. He could’ve just as easily said it in person tomorrow, but… But nothing. No good excuse aside from hoping Reigen will respond because he doesn’t mind, because maybe he’s thinking about him, or tomorrow, walking around in his pajamas and smiling at his phone when he sees it light up with Serizawa’s name—

Getting carried away again. Serizawa forces himself to focus on nothing but the lesson, taking notes, raising his hand to ask questions, and even keeping his goofy smile to a minimum when he checks his phone and sees Reigen texted back: sounds like a plan 👍There’s no point in overanalyzing everything now. Tomorrow night will make sense of things, he thinks. He’ll be able to ask Reigen more honestly what might be bothering him, and he even thought of a natural way to bring up their night out as a conversation topic. Serizawa just needs to talk things through and it’ll all be ok. 24 hours from now, everything will make sense.

Friday night changes nothing. Reigen’s just as odd and jumpy at the office and he doesn’t overthink his shopping selections, just throws things in the cart and moves them along. He decides to teach Serizawa how to make his tonkatsu, and while it’s nice to stand side-by-side at the counter and brush hands and bump hips, it means they don’t do much real talking to one another. 

Serizawa fumbles his conversation starter and Reigen doesn’t really take the bait. He was supposed to say, thanks for last Friday, I had a good time, but instead he ends up saying “So, um. Last Friday—” and promptly chokes on his bite.

Over Serizawa’s coughing, Reigen swallows and offers a fake smile. “Sorry about that. I think I was trying to prove something. The big 3-0 is starting to freak me out.”

“It’s fine,” Serizawa says, pausing to offer Reigen an opportunity to elaborate on his anxiety. When he takes another bite instead, Serizawa continues. “I had a good time, honestly.”

Reigen smirks. “And the hangover of the century, am I right?”

“Um. Well, yeah, that too.” A headache that wouldn’t go away all weekend and a sour stomach, but the latter could have been a side effect of replaying the night in his head obsessively. Reigen’s hand on his lower back, reaching for him across a sea of people, his smile under the blacklight. Worth every wave of nausea. “How come you didn’t get one?”

What he really means to ask is why did you leave that morning? How long were you awake before me? Were you always planning on leaving before I got up? Why didn’t you let me treat you to breakfast, you could’ve taken my bed, whatever you want, I’d give—

“I have my ways.” Reigen picks up his empty bowl and takes it to the sink, rinses it and puts away the leftovers while Serizawa watches the moment slip away. He wants to speak up, keep chipping at the wall, any tips for me? How drunk were you actually? If you’ve got a cure maybe next time you could stay and show me. Next time, next time, next time. Serizawa’s desperate to show that he wants a next time, wants anything that will push them to that place again where Reigen smiles while he touches him like it’s nothing and ignores bartenders and bad music to let Serizawa feel that tiny inch of youth he never got to have. 

He finishes his food and brings his bowl to the sink where Reigen takes it and asks him to set up the DVD. Serizawa will say it when Reigen comes to the couch, he’ll say it after this scene, or the next one, or when Reigen gets back from the bathroom, or maybe when the movie’s over. Except he remembers how Reigen used to chide him for this exact thing, holding onto a thought and blurting it out when the conversation has moved miles away from the topic. He doesn’t want to be annoying, or give Reigen any reason to think he’s still the clueless shut-in he was when they met. Reigen talks over the whole movie anyway like something bad will happen if he stops. When it’s over Reigen says he’s tired which is weird, because Serizawa’s always the one who says he has to go home and do schoolwork or chores he’s been putting off. He’s taken it for granted that those are their roles. Reigen asks him to stay, and Serizawa says he can’t. 

As he walks to the train, he plays with a theory that’s just come to him, strange inevitably driving his thoughts forward. Reigen asks, Serizawa says no. Or maybe sometimes yes, but never all yes. So he’ll be his coworker, but not his friend. Fine, his friend, but not his best friend. He can come over on Fridays but he can’t stay too long. He can go to Reigen’s but Reigen can’t come to his. Ok, drinks after work but he’ll pay for himself, it’s fine, honestly. Really, he shouldn’t, it’s ok, he shouldn’t. 

But who was it all for? Etiquette, mostly, an ingrained paranoia that Serizawa lives outside of the world of normalcy, so anything he really wants is probably something he shouldn’t have. He’s done everything how it should be done, for the most part. He’s kept his job this long and nobody’s died or even gotten that hurt. He’s been doing the right thing. Reigen dragged him along for the less kosher parts, and the feelings came naturally after that. But so what? Falling in love with your boss is bad, but falling for your subordinate is probably much worse, isn’t it? What if he’s got it all wrong this whole time? Serizawa feels sick, reviewing months of interactions where Serizawa turned Reigen down for one thing or another. Was that all he was asking? If he’s anything like Serizawa, half the time he says hello it’s code for I love you. Serizawa’s never been so bold as to invite Reigen anywhere, pull him into his interests, try to show him new things that will expand his tiny world. But Reigen’s never asked that one thing, the one Serizawa wishes Reigen would ask him already because the answer is yes, of course, always, since the beginning, yes—except Reigen can’t ask. Reigen is his boss. What’s allowed them to weave into each other’s lives also stands as a brick wall forcing them apart. Reigen can’t ask, but Serizawa could. 

Maybe he’s getting carried away again but it’s worth the risk. He’ll need to take some kind of extended vacation to lick his wounds in privacy if things don’t go his way. Reigen can get by for a few weeks with massages and the like, plus it’ll give him time to shake off the weirdness. But he won’t leave forever, even if he has to bear Reigen’s awkward pity or the total dissolution of their friendship. Serizawa knows this is where he belongs, even if it’s not in the way he wishes. He wouldn’t abandon Reigen for something as petty as a broken heart. 

He makes up his mind and asks Reigen on Monday morning if they can schedule a meeting for end of day Friday.

“Uh, sure,” Reigen says, glancing over the top of his computer. “What for?”

Serizawa rehearsed this. “I just want to talk about, um, work and my role here.” At the look on Reigen’s face, he says, “I’m not asking for a raise, I promise. I do the books too.” He laughs a little to lighten the mood but Reigen looks unwell, hiding it poorly.

“Why not talk about it now?”

“It’s nothing pressing, honestly. I’m only scheduling out time so we don’t double-book with a client.”

Reigen chews his cheek then narrows his eyes. “You’re being weird about this.”

“I’m not,” Serizawa smiles despite Reigen’s pronounced frown. “I promise. Nothing weird.” 

“Are you quitting?”

“Reigen.”

“Fine,” Reigen sighs, clicking and typing on his computer. Serizawa gets a ping moments later with an e-vite. “Friday, end of day. Are we going somewhere?”

“No, we can talk here.” Serizawa couldn’t bear another Friday at Reigen’s after a rejection, nor could he be normal for the rest of a workday if he got rejected on their lunch break. He planned this to a T over the weekend, every detail accounted for. He has to be meticulous because Reigen is the most unpredictable person he’s met, even after all this time, and while it’s part of why he loves him it also makes things tricky. But it’s a good plan, with contingencies for several different reactions. At his most hopeful, they go home to Reigen’s and Serizawa never leaves ever again—at his least Serizawa destroys the neighborhood and they both die in the quake. He’s hoping for the former. 

By chance they have a rush of appointments and walk-ins that week, which doesn’t leave as much room for savoring as Serizawa had hoped. He wants to remember what all this feels like before things change. Their synchronicity, how Serizawa knows when Reigen needs a caffeine boost and gets a cup ready, while Reigen knows the exact angle of head droop that means Serizawa needs a snack. They work without Reigen needing to direct him anymore—Serizawa takes clients at the door and knows already if they need his help or Reigen’s. When they go out to an exorcism they split up and rejoin to cover ground, swap intel, then vanish the spirit. Reigen knows his order at every place they get food, knows which side of the cab Serizawa likes and takes the other by default. It’s all still them, even if Serizawa pauses longer when handing Reigen something, lingers on the phone, or when Reigen overcomplicates things by insisting on paying for his commute expenses out of nowhere, rebalancing the budget to try and accommodate it only to announce that they’ll have to buy even cheaper coffee for the office to compensate. Serizawa takes in as much as he can, even if it’s not as normal as he’d hoped.

Reigen’s skittish behavior continues and Serizawa isn’t sure how to curb it. He should’ve waited longer to say anything about the meeting—he thought he’d go insane all week if he knew it was coming and didn’t say anything, but now it seems he only traded his own insecurity for Reigen’s.

On Wednesday, they’re both a little strange. Reigen invites him over for a movie after work, and Serizawa reminds him that he has class.

“Right, obviously.” Reigen shakes his head and pinches his brows, not quite smiling. “Never mind. No idea how I forgot that.” Reigen stands and turns toward the window, pretending to read a text. 

Serizawa clears his throat. “I can stop by after class, if you want.”

Reigen looks up, closes his phone and sits down again. “Don’t worry about it, what’s the rush anyway? There’s always Friday, right? Or–or next week or something. Plenty of time.” Forced smile, nervous triple-click of his mouse. “Right?”

“I don’t mind if you don’t mind. I’d like to see you tonight.” 

Reigen’s hand stills on his mouse, face completely obscured by the monitor.

“Ok,” he says finally. “But if you’re up late because of me it doesn’t mean you can come in late tomorrow. We’ve got that client coming early. No flaking.”

He hasn’t told any of his school friends how he feels about his boss, but even so they can tell something’s up. His friend Yui in particular tells him that he’s as jumpy as the first day she met him. He assures them nothing’s going on, he’s perfectly fine because by all standards he should be. He’s been to Reigen’s every week for months now, tonight is no different. He has a confession plan and this isn’t it. No need to be nervous.

He buys way too much bread on the way over. He was unsure what to bring that wouldn’t seem suggestive, so that ruled out most desserts and all alcohol. (They really do have an early appointment tomorrow.) He wasn’t sure what Reigen made for dinner and bread seemed neutral enough. But the woman at the bakery made faces at him when he tried to go for certain loaves, so he ended up with a baguette and two other kinds he can’t remember the names of. Reigen teases him after he opens the door and sees Serizawa with an armful of bread, but Serizawa doesn’t mind. He likes to see Reigen smile, and laughing at himself usually makes him feel better anyway.

They’re not drunk but he feels like he is. They were supposed to watch Terminator 2, but for the first time they let the movie play in the background, consumed instead with conversation. They haven’t been apart for longer than two days in almost a year so there’s not much to catch up on except their whole lives before they knew each other. Reigen boxes up the ramen he made for tomorrow’s lunch and they pass loaves back and forth, smoothing daubs of butter on each bite. Serizawa sits cross-legged on one end of the couch facing Reigen, who splays his legs out toward Serizawa’s knee and the coffee table. 

Reigen groans in satisfaction. Apparently bakery-lady’s suggestions were sound. “I haven’t eaten like this since college. Cup ramen and bread. Takes me back.”

“What was that like?”

“Hm? It’s cheap, mainly, pretty bad for your digestion though—”

“I mean college.”

Reigen laughs. “Right. Not much to say, to be honest. Got my degree in ‘communications’ which means nothing in the real world. Didn’t help me get a job, either. But it was ok. Not worth the debt.”

“Did you make a lot of friends?”

Reigen gives Serizawa a hard time for asking questions like this, but the intricacies of socializing are as wondrous to him as Serizawa’s powers are to a lay person. 

Reigen shrugs, glances at a car exploding on the screen. “I had a circle, I guess. Mostly people from my classes.”

“Do you think we would have been friends?”

Reigen smiles around a bite. “I don’t know. Never really befriended older people.” They level one another with a look and Reigen says so Serizawa doesn't, “Guess that’s still true.”

Serizawa huffs a laugh. “So what does that make me?”

“You don’t count.”

Serizawa nudges Reigen’s knee with his foot. “How’s that?”

“For one—” That terribly charming thing where Reigen puts something in his mouth right as he’s about to speak. “You’re barely older than me. And second, you had no social life for fifteen years. Maturity-wise we’re basically the same age.”

“Fine, fine.” Serizawa floats the butter knife over from Reigen’s hand, breaking into the baguette.  

They watch the screen for a few minutes, long enough to realize they really have no idea what’s going on. 

“Think you’ll ever go?” Reigen asks, eyes still on the screen.

Serizawa shrugs. “Maybe, I still have to finish night school.”

“How long you got left?”

“Just two months.” He’s been putting off thinking about it. On the one hand he’d like nothing more than to give more of his free time to Reigen, but long-term he’s seen the lonely effect the job can have on someone if they don’t have other outlets in life. “I never really thought I’d make it this far, to be honest. Sometimes I still hear that voice in the back of my head saying I’m just kidding myself, or that I’ll hurt someone on accident and everything will go back to how it was before.”

Reigen chews thoughtfully. “Well, you’d have to find another world-domination type organization for that. Those are pretty hard to come by. Very secretive. And you’re way too normal now, cults like that seek out the mentally weak to manipulate. You wouldn’t fall for that again.”

Serizawa knows this lecture is Reigen’s way of reassuring him, hands gesturing, brows raising, voice dipping and rising with emphasis all to make him feel better. It’s one of several points during the night where Serizawa wants to kiss Reigen so badly it hurts, but he doesn’t know how to kiss someone, and he’s sticking to the plan anyway. He doesn’t want Reigen to feel pressured at all, wants them both to have an easy out if things go south. And besides, he’d rather not know what it feels like to kiss Reigen if he’ll never get to do it again. 

“That’s nice of you to say, honestly, but I don’t think it was just being mentally weak.” He doesn’t talk about this part often, ducking out of questions that press too close to the truth. “It felt really good sometimes.” 

Reigen’s eyes meet his in the TV glow. That gravity, tugging him closer to Reigen but no, this is important. 

“I always saw my powers as a bad thing, you know. They only ever made things worse. Suzuki was the first person to say they were a gift.”

He explains how with Claw, strength was everyone’s greatest asset—viewed as objective fact. Serizawa’s strength—which had been labeled as violent, uncontrollable, frightening, unnatural—was now his saving grace. He was strong, and even if he didn’t feel like it, he had his umbrella to bring his room with him to the world. In truth Suzuki’s praise had been a godsend. Finally there was someone to absolve him for all he’d done when he was little, all he’d wasted inside his room. He craved it and caved to the pettiness of the upper echelon, the super five, flexing his strength so it’d be him to get the pat on the back after the building flattened. It was easy to ignore the bad parts, to shield himself from the consequences of his actions. Claw never stayed in one spot for very long anyway. He doesn’t mention how he hung on Suzuki’s every word, watched him in meetings and how his face heated when he leveled his eyes at him. Without him Serizawa might not yet know that part of himself. Shame burns in his chest and he watches his hands stretching the elastic on his socks. 

“He was just using all that to keep me there, but I don’t know. I guess I just hated myself so much I couldn’t stop ignoring the bad parts.”

Reigen half-smirked, sighed. “I know the feeling.”

“I’m—I’m a lot happier now. You’re right, I don’t think I’d actually fall for that again.” Serizawa watches Reigen’s face that’s drawn inward, an expression passing through as he pulls the mask back up. “Working for you is… It’s been great. Honestly.”

“Good,” Reigen says, and even though Serizawa knows he’s sincere, there’s something else.

“Does…” His tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth, throat dry and clicking. “Are you happy?”

Reigen snaps his head up like he was slapped. “Of course. Obviously. I mean, yeah. It’s great. High stress sometimes, and we don’t make a lot of money, not to mention the danger factor, and—”

“You can tell me if you’re ever not ok.”

Reigen rolls his eyes. “I’m fine, honestly. Just.” A flash of a smile, or maybe a grimace. “I get it, is all.”

Serizawa waits, nudges Reigen’s leg when he doesn’t continue. Reigen leans forward for his glass of water and sighs. “I’m sure you googled me at some point, right?”

Serizawa had, but the articles confused him more than anything. He gathered there was some kind of controversy, a botched TV appearance, a press conference. But he still had his business, still was Reigen Arataka—rising star of the paranormal world, so he figured it wasn’t all that bad. 

“It was ridiculous, honestly. I should never have agreed to be on that show. But with Mob gone, I got nervous about keeping things afloat and then I just… got carried away.” 

Serizawa offers a half-smile. “I know that feeling, too.”

Reigen quirks a brow. Serizawa breathes a little easier for the smile that follows, he hasn’t depressed Reigen yet.

“Do you now?”

“Well,” Serizawa huffs a laugh. “Kind of.”

“Ever been a meme before?”

“Wait, seriously?”

Reigen laughs. “Yep. It was pretty bad. My website was basically busted, I had to pay for a new domain and everything.”

Serizawa’s stomach sinks. “Really?”

“Oh yeah. Twitter, message boards, you name it.”

“But—you proved them wrong, didn’t you?”

“Well, that’s what they thought. It wasn’t actually me, obviously. Just…” Reigen swirls the single ice cube melting at the bottom of his glass. “Kind of weird to get a preview of what people would actually think if they knew the real you. Bad things, turns out.” He smiles as he says it, but Serizawa can’t pretend.

“Were you… ok?”

“Yeah, I mean. Not really. Kind of went to a dark place for a bit. When you keep waking up to emails from strangers telling you to kill yourself—”

“Reigen.” 

“Not like that, I don’t have the stomach for it. But you know, if enough people say it, you start to wonder if they’ve got a point.”

SNAP

Reigen whips his head around, hands braced over his head for protection. An empty juice carton on the counter lies on its side, twisted and crushed into an impossible shape. Serizawa unclenches his fist and exhales. He hadn’t realized he was even angry until it happened.  

“Sorry,” he says, fixed on the juice dribbling down the counter and over the cabinets. “I’m sorry, I really didn’t—”

“It’s ok,” Reigen says. “Seriously.” He turns back around, startled blinking face ready to reassure Serizawa. “I was gonna throw that away anyway, don’t worry.”

Serizawa should feel worse about this slip up but he still has to focus on not blowing anything else up. He sees it in his head plain as day, a short snide email open on Reigen’s screen— kill yourself thrown in carelessly with the rest of the words like it’s no worse than a ‘fuck you.’ His glass on the coffee table rattles against the wood, coasters skidding. He inhales deep through his nose and grabs onto his ankles, nails nicking the skin.

“Hey,” Reigen’s hand lands on Serizawa’s knee and the shaking stops. “You ok?”

Serizawa catches Reigen’s expression, not a flicker of fear. He’s looking at Serizawa like he’s the one who went through all of that. He’s too good, it’s not right, it’s not fair.

“I’m fine,” he says, stilling the water sloshing over the sides of his glass with a pointed finger. “I’m sorry I got upset, but…” He grinds his teeth together, quashing the flame of anger licking in his gut. “People who say horrible things without understanding the gravity of their words… I can’t stand it.”

Reigen chuckles, soft and breathy. “You should probably stay off the internet, then. There’s a lot of those guys out there.”

Serizawa shakes his head. “No one should ever have said that to you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s said it to me for no good reason.”

Serizawa lifts his eyes to Reigen, an odd face he’s never seen before. If fear could smile.

Reigen clears his throat. “Feels like you’ve got this idea that I’m some cool, popular guy but it’s just.” Huff of breath, not a laugh, not a sigh. “Not true. I’m not, never have been. Honestly, you’ve probably made more real friends in your life than I have.”

“Reigen.”

He smiles and rolls his eyes. “What?”

“You’re so hard on yourself.”

“I’m not trying to be, that’s just what it’s been like. I can only get so far until they realize it’s all bullshit. Probably my own fault for putting up all the bullshit to begin with. So.”  

Serizawa puzzles at Reigen’s demeanor, stiff and jittery. Something clicks. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, what do you mean? Is something wrong?”

“No, just—you look kind of… I don’t know. Scared.”

Serizawa could probably see the sweat beading on Reigen’s face if the light was on. He squirms in the dimness, huffing and tutting and moving his arms and legs without purpose. 

“Well, excuse me that the only person on Earth who thinks I’m cool just found out that I’m a total loser.”

Serizawa huffs, hoping it’ll communicate more to Reigen than he can say. “You’re still the coolest person I know.”

“No. Absolutely not, no way.”

Serizawa raises a brow. “No?” He can’t bite down his smile quick enough.

“Nope. You’re way cooler than me, for starters.”

“I’d have to disagree.”

“No, seriously, I mean, you’ve already been a top executive of a major corporation—yes it was evil, we’ll let that pass. Ah!” He puts a finger up to silence Serizawa’s protests. “In less than three years you went from being a lifelong shut-in to enrolling in school, making friends. You live on your own, keep house, have hobbies. You’ve landed a steady job that utilizes your skill set… Far as I can tell, the world’s your damn oyster. You’re going places.” Reigen crunches the last ice cube between his teeth, thunderstorm inside his mouth while he averts his gaze to the TV.

Serizawa doesn’t know what to say. Summed up like that, his life sounds pretty good, like the life of someone who knows what they’re doing. In reality it feels a lot more like endless false starts, half measures and near misses. He’s been trying hard. He glows under the praise, an unbearable urge to touch him softer than he’d even feel.

“Thanks, Reigen,” he says. “You’re going places, too.”

“Nah, I’m staying right here.” He smacks the side of the couch and clicks his tongue. “Getting big just means trouble. You wanna hit the bottom of the middle, that’s the real sweet spot.”

“For the record,” Serizawa shifts his leg, toe nudging Reigen’s calf. “You actually are the coolest person I know.”

“Nobody,” Reigen gestures at the TV, “is cooler than Sarah Connor, though, am I right?”

Serizawa knows he’s deflecting but lets it slide. He understands the instinct to hide, even from the good things. 

He stays until Reigen falls asleep on the couch. Reigen gave him a key a while back for emergency purposes so he locks up and texts him when he’s back home. See you bright and early, cool guy.

He wakes up the next morning to the response, not if i see you first

Nothing’s gone wrong, per se, but it’s not going to plan, either. Serizawa had hoped to gauge Reigen’s temperature on their relationship a bit more over the course of Thursday and Friday, but after the Thursday morning exorcism Reigen hustled them back to the office and holed himself up. Serizawa dealt with walk-ins, Reigen only emerging for massage appointments. He said he had client emails to deal with, a backlog of receipts to go through, standard stuff—but the light from the window glared his screen in a way that gave him a headache. Serizawa offered to switch desks but Reigen was adamant he would work better in the massage room.

“Just some peace and quiet will do the trick. Thanks, Serizawa.” He gave a small wave and shut the door behind him. Serizawa was left wondering if he’s normally too loud, watching himself as he did homework to make sure he wasn’t tapping his pencil or jiggling his legs too much. 

Friday morning is the same, Reigen takes a walk-in with that secret grimace only Serizawa knows to look for and then retreats with his laptop into the room. 

Serizawa brought homework but he can hardly look at it. He’d been banking on Reigen’s presence to calm his nerves—it’s hard to think of much else when Reigen’s in front of him, talking, moving, eyes bright—but left on his own the worry seizes him. 

What if he’s got this all wrong? He doesn’t even know if Reigen likes men for sure—well, he suspects, and Reigen’s all but said he doesn’t care about the attention of women—but he doesn’t know, and the not knowing presses him from all sides. It’s 10:47am and he makes himself a third cup of tea then leaves it on the counter to waste. 

What will he lose if he’s wrong? Reigen won’t bring him food anymore—it might seem like an advance, and Reigen won’t want to give Serizawa the wrong idea. He feels a literal pang in his chest at the thought. Maybe Reigen’s cooking isn’t groundbreaking but it’s good, familiar. From him. No more Friday nights, wedged inches from one another on the couch, limbs brushing as they reach across each other. No going to clubs or bars. None of Reigen’s easy touches, an arm slung around his shoulder, hand on his back, foot nudging his under the table. 

He’s a good person, he reminds himself. He won’t hate you, it’ll just be different. Serizawa gets the feeling that he’ll be different too after this, no matter the outcome. 

Reigen pops his head out at lunch time to ask Serizawa to pick up MobDonald’s—he’ll be working through the hour. Serizawa’s stomach sinks.

“Are you sure? We’re not that far behind, it can wait.”

“It’s fine, I’m paying, don’t worry about it.” Reigen keeps the door closed around his neck, only a strip of wall visible behind him. 

Serizawa chews his lip—he can’t tell whether he’s being selfish or selfless. 

“I’ll be done before the meeting today. Promise.” Reigen flashes him a quick smile and nod, something harried in his demeanor. “See you in a bit, ok?”

Serizawa tries not to take the door shutting in his face too harshly, setting out on his own. It occurs to him that Reigen might have figured out what this whole meeting is about, and is ignoring him to avoid the awkward lead up. Well. That’s ok. Rejection was always a possibility from the beginning. And if he doesn’t do it, he’ll have to make up another reason why he called a mysterious meeting. Much easier to stick to the plan.

Serizawa rehearses his speech on the walk over. He’s got it mostly memorized. He even posted it for feedback on an anonymous forum and the other users said it was decent. Short, to the point.

Reigen, I called this meeting so we could have some privacy. Working here has honestly been the most amazing experience of my life, but the best part was getting to know you. You’re my best friend and since I tell you pretty much everything anyway, I thought you should know. I love you. Yes, like that. I understand if you don’t feel the same way, but I wanted to be honest and open about it. I love you.

He waffles on the second I love you, and combs over his apologies if/when he gets rejected. He made tentative plans to stay with his mother for a few weeks if he needs, though the thought of staying in his old room makes him want to die just a little. He figures it won’t be the worst thing he’s feeling if he has to go in the first place. 

Why are you so eager to get your heart broken?

He passes by one of their posters on a telephone pole—Reigen had Mob put them up advertising their weekend specials, and surprisingly they were starting to yield real clients. That cheesy photo of Reigen, finger wagging in the air, his strange sneer that Serizawa rarely sees in real life. There’s so much of Reigen that is solely his to witness. Tired at the end of a long day, singing jumbled lyrics under his breath as he packs up his bag. When he pulls Mob behind him at an exorcism if something goes wrong, the real fear in his eyes when he thinks someone he loves is in danger. Finding new ways to annoy Dimple just to make Serizawa laugh. When he rushes into work ten minutes late, crust of toothpaste in the corner of his mouth. Asleep on Serizawa’s shoulder, eyes darting beneath the lids. 

Even if he doesn’t feel the same way, Reigen deserves to know that he is loved for exactly who he is. The real him, not the guy from the posters. Not the psychic or life coach or even Master, the version of himself he thinks Mob needs to see to be a good person. Serizawa already knows he’s good, without having to try. 

Reigen salutes Serizawa and grabs the bag of food at the door, then ducks back into the room. Serizawa reads past the assigned chapters of his textbook for something to focus on, pulling out vocabulary words and writing their definitions in his notebook. He makes a grocery list and tells himself he won’t be miserable if he does his shopping alone tonight. He emails his teacher about a question he missed on the last quiz, goes through his spam folder, takes out all the trash and cleans the toaster oven. He cleaned it just a few weeks ago so it doesn’t take as long as he hoped. In the end he whiles away the time by watching YouTube videos, the sound low enough that Reigen can’t hear through the door.

In the middle of a video essay on whale sharks, Reigen slams open the door, striding toward his desk. His voice booms. “Who’s ready for a meeting?”

Serizawa looks at the clock. There’s still fifteen minutes until the scheduled time.

“So?” Reigen says. “We haven’t had any walk-ins all day. You got somewhere else to be?”

Serizawa’s heart thumps so hard he thinks he might puke. “Can I use the bathroom first?”

Reigen nods and Serizawa darts inside. He checks himself over in the mirror. His hair’s getting too long—he should’ve asked Reigen to cut it. Too late. He checks his breath then feels stupid for being so hopeful. He gargles anyway just in case. He repeats his speech under his breath looking at the mirror but can’t get through it, so he closes his eyes and recites the words. It’s just Reigen, it’ll be fine. It’s Reigen, he thinks, stomach seizing. He goes back out before he can stop himself, flashing a pinched smile as he greets him.  

The dusky sun behind Reigen lights up his silhouette, gold and warm. Serizawa forgets to breathe for a second then exhales sharp and hard. Now or never. 

Reigen half-sits on his desk, suspicious smile on his face. So maybe he wasn’t avoiding him?

“Uh, Reigen, I wanted to call this meeting because—”

“Let me stop you,” Reigen says, reaching behind his desk. “Before you say anything else, I’m about to change your life.”

Serizawa blinks, words catching in his throat. “I–What?” 

Reigen pulls out a tri-fold poster board with the header: SPIRITS & SUCH: INCORPORATED!

“Serizawa, welcome aboard the new and improved Spirits & Such.” Reigen waggles his eyebrows, that leer from the posters.

“What… when did you do this?” 

“I, uh, didn’t go home last night. But it’s fine, listen. I know what you’re thinking: why would I invest in a company that barely pays me in the first place? But with our combined vision and capital, this agency could go far beyond the little operation we’ve got here. I’m talking even bigger than Seasoning City.”

Serizawa looks over the poster, the graphs and bullet points, a full business pitch. Why?  

“If we file as a corporation, we can get this amazing tax benefit that will give us some more wiggle room in terms of expansion. If we split the duties, I’ll take the coaching stuff, massages, beautification, you name it, and you handle the spirits—full time we could make this work. And if it works, we can bring in more people.”

“Reigen, I… I don’t even know what to say. I called the meeting because—”

“So you don’t want to do the spirit stuff anymore, I get it.” Reigen’s up and walking in circles, waving his hand around without ever looking at Serizawa directly. “But that’s fine, you can be behind the scenes. Or—or like a, uh, a silent partner if you want. If you’re worried about it making you look shady we can totally keep this under the radar. Just know you’ve got options, ok? I’m wide open for negotiation. Seriously, just name it.”

“Reigen—”

“We can change the name too, you can be the face if you want. I—” He chokes on a shaky laugh. “Just tell me what you want.”  

Serizawa stands, takes a step toward Reigen. Reigen stops where he is, brings a nervous hand up to his neck. 

“What?” he asks when Serizawa just stares, jaw slack.

“I don’t even know what to say. Where did this come from?”

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while anyway. It just makes sense. You can…” He hitches up a salesman smile over the fear budding on his face. “You can grow here. I promise.”

“This is…” Serizawa exhales. “Reigen, this is huge. I haven’t thought about this at all.”

Reigen swallows something down, looks at his feet. “Look, it’s not that big of a deal, I split everything 50/50 with you anyway. Might as well make it official, right?”

“I…” Serizawa hadn’t accounted for this. He practiced all kinds of things to handle Reigen’s possible responses but nothing to prepare for total derailment. How to get them back on track? What did he even have planned? His speech gets hazier by the second, Reigen’s palpable anxiety washing into his own. Serizawa opens his mouth but nothing comes out, and after a moment Reigen ekes out a smile that’s more like himself.

“You, uh, you can think about it, too.”

“Reigen, I…” Serizawa huffs a laugh. “I don’t need any of this.”

His face turns cold in under a second and Serizawa’s heart plummets at the sight. Reigen straightens up, looks to the side. “Ok. Fine.”

“Wait, it’s not—”

“I get it. You don’t want to buy in to some broke bullshit company. Should’ve figured.” He bends the board in half, cracks it down the center in a jagged snap. Serizawa feels it in his chest.

“Reigen, that’s not what I’m saying. It’s not the company—”

Reigen scoffs. “So it’s just me. Great. Got it.”

“Please listen. I have to tell you—”

Reigen shakes off Serizawa’s hand on his elbow, puts distance between them. “Look, pardon me if I don’t want to hear the ins and outs of why you don’t want to be here. I said I get it. You don’t have to come in anymore.”

“I…” Serizawa swallows. How did it get this bad so fast? Reigen won’t look at him, facing the door, arms crossed. “Is that an order? Are you firing me?”

“There’s no severance, if that’s what you’re thinking of.”

Serizawa’s throat pinches. “I’m not. I still—”

“Can you give me a few weeks at least?” He turns back, expression blank. “We’ve still got stuff on the books I need you for. After that… I’ll figure it out. I’ll be fine.” Reigen turns his face away the moment his voice catches. “I’ll be fine.

“Reigen, please look at me.” 

“I said I’m fine.” His fire is doused before it can catch. “You can go home now. I just need—”

Reigen. Serizawa hadn’t meant to use his powers but he’s not sorry he did. Reigen faces him now, his right arm fitted against Serizawa’s hand. They’ve never stood this close face to face without an umbrella. Reigen jitters under his palm like he barely notices their stance. Little tugs on his expression that he fights against, keeping up the mask even as his throat clicks and his cheeks blotch. Tears catch in the corners of his eyes but don’t fall, he gets the feeling Reigen won’t let them. 

Serizawa holds Reigen in place and lets instinct take over. His hand comes up to cradle the back of Reigen’s head. He’s done this in his mind so many times. He watches Reigen’s face register where they are, how they are, and his mouth falls open in surprise.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Serizawa says. “That’s all I wanted to say.” He rubs a small circle into Reigen’s neck, hair brushing between his fingertips.

Reigen swallows, voice small when he asks, “That’s all?” Fear, hope.

It’s much, much easier to be brave when Reigen’s scared. 

He dips his head to kiss Reigen and it’s as easy as it was in his head. He catches Reigen’s upper lip between his own and Reigen meets him halfway, soft, with a deep inhale. Serizawa presses forward and Reigen sighs into the kiss, inching a hand onto Serizawa’s chest. Finally, Serizawa thinks. He pulls back first, but just to get a look at him. Reigen’s eyes are hooded and dark, shadowy in their closeness. Another quick kiss that Reigen meets, then another. 

“Oh thank god,” Reigen whispers and pulls Serizawa down by the tie. 

Serizawa had hoped for a first kiss, but this was beyond even his second date dreams. He’s not sure why—it’s not like they’re actually in high school. They’re grown adults, they can make out like teenagers as soon as they feel like it. Reigen softens when Serizawa puts his hand on his waist and slings an arm over his shoulder. He is very good at this, Serizawa can tell without the experience for validation. A note of jealousy flickers in his gut when he thinks who Reigen might have practiced with before him, pulling him tighter against his chest with his powers. Reigen makes a sound—not an unhappy one—and pulls back with a soft laugh. Serizawa releases his aura and smiles back. 

Reigen coughs. “Let’s—let’s calm down a second. Get our heads straight.” 

“Ok.” Serizawa knocks his forehead against Reigen’s to rest it there. He should be serious, Reigen wants to be, but it’s hard when his face is this close.

“So, uh.” Reigen lifts a brow. “Was this what the meeting was about?”

Serizawa nods. “I’m in love with you, Reigen. That’s the truth. All of it.”

Reigen’s body relaxes in a liquid huff. “That’s good news—Hang on.” He pushes the hand on Serizawa’s chest to level him with a look. “Are you serious?

Serizawa isn’t sure if he should feel guilty. It’s already out now. “…Yes? Sorry if that’s—”

“Why?”

“…Why?”

“Yes, why.”

“Why do I love you?” Serizawa can’t help but laugh at him, his indignant face, scrunched nose. 

“You’re a nice guy, Serizawa,” Reigen flicks his chest. “How do I know you’re not just trying to spare my feelings?”

“I kissed you before I even said that.”

“Dodging the question.”

Serizawa rolls his eyes, snakes his aura around Reigen again. “Alright, well, I just do. I don’t have to think about it very hard. It’s like an instinct.” 

Reigen’s face colors. “So you’re saying you didn’t think this through?”

Serizawa huffs. “You can’t—you won’t stump me or talk me out of this. I can give you more reasons, if you want. I—um, I really like your smile, to start, and I—”

Reigen shakes his head as he leans in. “Never mind, this is more embarrassing. Come here.”

Serizawa knows he’ll have to come up with a real explanation eventually, Reigen’s just like that. It’s not that he minds, he just doesn’t know where to start. Not to mention he’ll have to kindly quash Reigen’s rebuttals to whatever praise he gives. He wants to tell Reigen that he impresses him but knows he’ll say it’s because he was a shut-in, he doesn’t know better. But Serizawa thinks that’s kind of the point. Reigen is impressive just by knowing everything he knows—there are so many average things Serizawa had no clue about until Reigen showed him for the first time. Will he ever be able to see fidget spinners or cat cafes or dehumidifiers without thinking of Reigen? So what if it’s only impressive to him. It’s his love, he can find it wherever he wants.

But right now, Reigen’s hands on his chest and neck, the scent of him as close as he’s always wanted, warm and soft and wow ok that was—He doesn’t need reasons to love Reigen. He’ll find a way to explain it when he’s less distracted. 

The kiss cuts short when their heads hit the ceiling.

“Shit,” Reigen brushes dust from his hair, latently realizing how far off the ground he is before clinging his arms around Serizawa’s neck. “Um, what’s—are you doing this?”

“Sorry,” Serizawa supports Reigen’s back with his powers, waits until he’s more steady to lower them down. “Guess I got distracted.”

When they’re on the ground, Reigen steps back and tuts. “Not that impressive.” He bends over and wraps his arms around Serizawa’s knees, heaves to lift him. No dice.

“Oh come on, you’re cheating.”

“I’m not!” Serizawa laughs. “I told you I’m too big.”

“You’re not too big, you’re just big-ger. It’s proportional.” 

“Hm…” Serizawa brushes hair out of Reigen’s eyes, savoring that he can do this at all. 

“It’s like I’m medium-sized and you’re… extra medium.”

“Extra-medium? I don’t think that’s real.”

“It is.” He jabs at Serizawa’s chest. “That’s what you are.” 

Serizawa chuckles. “Or maybe you’re just small.”

“Hey! I am not small.” His face is this close to actual offense.

“If I’m medium, then you have to be small.”

Reigen sighs. “I’m the medium, you’re the extra-medium. We went over this.”

“I’m pretty sure the only literal medium here is Serizawa,” Dimple appears over Reigen’s shoulder, wobbling in an invisible breeze.

Reigen startles and groans, finger pointed at the door. “Out. Now.” 

“What? You were the one who wanted me to hang around in case he dumped you—”

Reigen grabs a pen off the desk and throws it at him. As expected, it falls to the floor without effect. 

They bump elbows as they fill their hand baskets with groceries. Serizawa puts his milk next to Reigen’s in the fridge for the night, the sight of their things mingling makes his chest warm. They rented Terminator 3 and put it on but don’t watch it, which is lucky because they didn’t really watch the second one anyway. He discovers wonderful new ways to sit on a couch. Facing forward, leaning his body toward the middle to rest against Reigen’s that mirrors his. Resting against the arm while Reigen sits on it, thigh inches from his cheek he could easily rest it there. Lying out along the length with Reigen between his legs, hugged to his chest. That one’s his favorite. Reigen is close and has enough room to flip over, rest his weight on Serizawa’s chest while they kiss and miss shoot-outs and explosions and chase scenes. They don’t mind, they have time to rewatch, or they could stay up and start it over from the beginning. After all, as the new co-owner of a business, he can make his own hours.