Work Text:
The day was slow.
Reigen leaned back far enough in his chair that he could look up at the clouds lazily floating outside the office window. It was windy enough that they were making decent time across the sky, which was, he could admit, a weird ass thought.
The pen in his mouth was chewed to hell, but he had been trying to quit smoking since the kid came around about a month ago. He had seen his eyes linger a bit too long on his full ashtray, curious with a question on his tongue no doubt, and Reigen had quickly shuffled him out the door for some ice cream.
He had been delighted by his simple vanilla cone, being careful not to spill any as Reigen walked him home. That was also kind of weird because what kid liked plain vanilla? Reigen himself had scarfed down a triple-decker banana split sundae and was feeling the effects as his stomach gurgled sadly.
Mob had held his hand as they crossed the street. His fingers were sticky.
Once he had waved him off, Reigen had returned to the office and dumped out every tray he had stashed away. He’d tried quitting cold turkey before, but last time he didn’t have a tiny shadow with big innocent eyes following his every move. Maybe this time would be different.
His hands were still sticky as he tied off the bag and headed down to the dumpster. It felt like something someone else would do.
If the kid ever noticed the missing trays, he never said anything. He also never mentioned the way the pens on Reigen’s desk were looking a bit worse for wear these days, but hey, a man was allowed one vice. It was healthy! It was chicken soup for the fucking soul.
Reigen sighed and slumped further down into his chair.
His last appointment of the day had called to cancel, and he debated texting Mob that he could stay home. He had been chattering about some new game he and his brother wanted to play, so maybe he could enjoy his afternoon. Reigen could either sit here and continue to melt into his office chair or go home and watch TV until he fell asleep on the couch, only to wake up at 3:00 am by rolling off and falling onto his floor. Wouldn’t be the first time.
There was the sound of the door opening, and Reigen immediately straightened, tucking the pen back into its cup and pulling on his customer service smile.
“Ah, hello! Welcome to Spirits and Such, how—oh. Hey Mob.”
Reigen came back to himself as the kid peaked out from behind the wall, shy maybe? He could only grasp at his reasons. The boy was an enigma.
“Hello Master.”
“You’re here a little early. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, it was grandparents day at school.”
“Ah, yes of course!” Reigen had no idea what the fuck that meant. “Well, our last customer is sick, so you’re actually free to go!”
“Oh…” he almost sounded disappointed. He fidgeted at his spot by the wall. Reigen frowned.
“…Did you…want to stay?” This felt concerning. Should he be concerned? He felt concerned. God, children were so difficult. “You can if you want, you know. I still have your coloring book on the shelf.”
“Oh! Thank you, Master…but I, um, have something for you.”
“Something for me?”
As he spoke, Mob seemed to gather his courage and approached his desk, hands tucked behind his back. He stood silent at his side for a moment, eyes huge in his tiny face, before handing him a large piece of rolled up paper.
“Open it.”
Reigen did. It was a child’s drawing, no doubt from Mob himself. In it were two stick people in crayon, one taller with pointy orange hair, the other smaller with a bowl cut. They were both smiling and holding hands. The small one held a tiny ice cream cone, and the larger had a boat-like monstrosity that could only be the kid’s vision of Reigen’s ice cream nightmare last month. The grass was a green line along the bottom, the sky a blue line across the top. There was a smiling sun in the corner. In the empty space in the center was the shaky scrawl of a child carefully spelling out, “Happy birthday Master Reigen!”
“Do you like it, Master?”
Reigen opened his mouth then closed it. He cleared his throat and opened it again. “I love it, Mob,” he warbled out. Strangely enough, the picture seemed to be getting a little blurry. How odd.
“How–” he cleared his throat again, “–how did you know it was my birthday?” He took a quick glance at his laptop screen. October the 10th, the kid was spot on. Reigen himself hadn’t even realized. He hadn’t had reason to celebrate in years.
“Oh, you mentioned it during ice cream a while ago. You were really excited about yours though, so maybe you forgot.”
“Yeah, I’m sure that’s it,” he said, trying to discreetly rub his eyes. “Hey Mob, are you hungry? Wanna get a special birthday dinner? We can get cake too, my treat.”
Mob looked at him in awe. “And the candles, too?”
Reigen hated the candles. “Absolutely. C’mon, lemme grab my coat.”
The dinner was hell on Reigen’s wallet, but it was worth it. Even when Mob asked the waiter for candles in their two cupcakes and sang happy birthday in his tiny voice, Reigen didn’t hate it at all. His vision blurred a little again though, so maybe he would schedule an eye appointment next week. He was getting older after all.
He walked Mob back to his house. He held his hand all the way there.
On the way home, he stopped at a tiny hobby store. The frame he found buried in the clearance bin was nicked in places, but the colorful stripes of paint were still bright.
It was perfect.
Reigen was far from perfect.
He’d floated through life. He’d built a business on lies. He still craved a cigarette every morning and was destroying his writing utensils by attempting to hold back.
But when he saw Mob’s face light up the next day after school when he noticed his framed drawing on the wall, Reigen thought maybe there was hope for him after all.
Slow progress, but progress nonetheless. Slow was healthy! Chicken soup and all that, you know.