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Reigen gets a call in the middle of the night.
He must have forgotten to silence his phone, which happens—his body’s been pushing him to sleep earlier and earlier these days as the years wear on, which makes him feel leagues older than he is but it is what it is. He fumbles for his phone in the dark and squints at it.
Incoming Call: Shigeo (Mob)
It’s two in the morning and Shigeo is calling him. Worryingly out of character.
Wide awake, Reigen picks up. “Mob?”
“R-Reigen?”
Shigeo’s voice trembles. He sounds sick and sad and the heavy emotion in his voice gouges the sleep out of Reigen’s brain and sets him on alert.
“Hey, what’s up? Did something happen?”
“I—I’m at a party,” Shigeo croaks. “But I want to—… Can you pick me up?”
“Yeah.” Not what Reigen wants to be doing at two in the morning, but if Shigeo needs him then he’s gonna be there. “Yeah, sure, one second.”
“M’kay.”
Reigen gets his shoes on and grabs his coat and keys. Shigeo never asks anything of Reigen and there’s gotta be a reason why he didn’t call his parents first.
“Sorry,” Shigeo goes on. Slurs? Is he slurring? “B-But no one else will take me back to the dorm a-and…”
“Are you drunk?”
“Mm. I—I think so. Everything’s… warm. But in a bad way. I—I don’t wanna be here anymore, Shishou.”
“Yeah, I getcha. Wanna shoot me the address? I’ll be right there.”
Shigeo texts him.
It’s a house party a ways from the college campus, which checks out, especially if Reigen’s remembering right and the students are on winter break. He splurged a couple years ago on a car for Spirits and Such—he can write it off on taxes and everything. Whatever he can get out of being self-employed, he will. He’s never been more grateful for the car than he is now.
The house is in a pretty quiet area. Whoever owns it has an acre of land and doesn’t seem to be making much use of it. Shigeo is on the curb at the end of the driveway, tracing shapes into the sidewalk while a wobbly barrier umbrellas him from the snow. It’d better be well-insulated and heated in there; it’s too cold to be sitting outside in a hoodie and jeans.
Shigeo’s head comes up when Reigen pulls in. He stands. Reigen reaches over and throws open the passenger door, gritting his teeth against the gush of cold air. Shigeo shuts the door behind him with his aura before Reigen can ask.
“You’ve still got the barrier up,” Reigen says, cranking up the heat.
Shigeo drops it with a shiver. He doesn’t say anything and maybe it should be concerning, but the kid’s out of it, not harmed.
“How much did you drink?” Reigen volleys.
Shigeo shrugs.
Reigen puts the car in reverse and rolls out of the driveway. “Got an estimate? I’m not mad, but it’d be nice to know what I’m dealing with here.”
Shigeo doesn’t say anything.
“Were you doing shots?”
Shigeo nods with a sniffle, small, and the iridescent shimmer of his barrier reappears between him and Reigen. “It—It was stronger than they said it was.”
Ah. Thankfully they’re already on the road; Reigen doesn’t know what he’d do if he were still in a position to march up to that front door. Getting Shigeo somewhere quiet and still is first priority.
“I’ll try and take it easy,” he says, putting the car in drive. “But give me a warning if you think you’re gonna throw up, alright?”
Shigeo nods against the window, shutting his eyes.
“You can take my couch,” Reigen says, cutting the engine and popping the door open. Shigeo, for his part, didn’t throw up on his upholstery, which he appreciates. “Don’t get out yet.”
Shigeo nods, dozing against the window. Maybe Reigen’s making assumptions about just how trustworthy Shigeo’s dormmates are, but none of it seems unfair when he’s got Shigeo like this in his passenger seat, and so he made the executive decision to let him crash in his apartment for the night. It’s the same dingy place Reigen has had since moving out, but it gets the job done.
He pops the passenger door open and bumps into Shigeo’s barrier. He doesn’t like that the kid keeps putting it up subconsciously; then again, maybe it’s just his own psychic powers being protective of him. If that’s the case and it’s nothing more than a drunk self-defense method rather than something personal, then he’s glad for it.
Reigen taps the side of the barrier. Shigeo jolts out of his daze and swivels to stare at him, wide-eyed and tearful. Reigen makes an old-timey roll-down-the-window gesture and Shigeo carefully drops the barrier.
“Doing okay there?” Reigen asks, offering Shigeo his hand. Shigeo nods but doesn’t say anything, mutely accepting the help as he stumbles out of the car. He nearly brains himself on the door, but Reigen is able to steady him in time, expecting it. “Careful. You’re alright.”
Shigeo keeps nodding. He also keeps clinging to Reigen’s sleeves, knees buckled and tennis shoes caught on the curb. Reigen pulls him onto the sidewalk and kicks the passenger door shut. The barrier is around both of them now and it gnaws at Reigen’s ankles a little, pins and needles, but Reigen can think of several less manageable ways Shigeo’s psychic powers could misfire when he’s out of his right mind. This is fine.
He manages to steer Shigeo up the steps to his apartment. Getting his keys is like navigating a jungle gym, but he gets the place unlocked in good enough time and flicks the least intrusive light on as they step inside. Shigeo can keep his feet underneath him, but his fingers stay screwed in Reigen’s sleeve and he doesn’t attempt to walk on his own. Barrier’s still up.
“Alright, then,” Reigen says, locking the door behind them. “Get your shoes off—sit down first, though, just in case. I’ll be back in just a second.”
Shigeo nods. He’s doing too much of that. Reigen lets him go but keeps his hand close, withdrawing only when Shigeo doesn’t topple over. He ducks out of Shigeo’s barrier and pulls his closet open for blankets, fills a cup of water and shakes a couple Tylenols out of a pill bottle. By the time he’s more or less set up the couch, Shigeo’s sitting by the genkan with his shoes off and his legs folded underneath him, hugging himself.
Reigen steps closer. The barrier keeps him at arm’s length and he knocks on it again to get Shigeo’s attention. “Come on. The best thing you can do right now is sleep some of this off.”
Shigeo nods, shaky, and releases the barrier to let Reigen get close. Reigen helps him to his feet, steadying him when he teeters too far to one side, and walks him over to the couch. Shigeo wraps himself in blankets and curls into a tight ball against the arm of the couch, and then the barrier’s back up before Reigen can ask if he needs something.
He doesn’t like that the barrier keeps coming back—he hoped Shigeo would feel safe enough to keep it down once they were inside—but he actually pays attention to Shigeo’s face, the red around his glassy eyes and the way he hides himself in the blankets and the attempt to appear as small as possible. He doesn’t even look embarrassed, just… ashamed. Sad.
Maybe Reigen should give him space.
“There’s water and Tylenol if you wake up and your head’s killing you,” Reigen says, maintaining a steady and casual tone. “Use as many blankets as you want. I’ll be around if you need me.”
Shigeo nods, curling tighter, and Reigen leaves him alone.
It’s the middle of the night when Reigen stirs to the sound of Shigeo throwing up in the bathroom.
Reigen doesn’t let himself fall back asleep, shoving up onto an elbow and groping for his phone. 3:04am. Yikes. He thinks about going after Shigeo, but he doesn’t want to embarrass the kid anymore than he already is. He’s not really in the mood to hang around to watch someone vomit, either.
He waits. The sick noises stop, but Shigeo doesn’t come back. And keeps not coming back. Reigen flicks through his phone, more concerned the longer he waits. After ten minutes pass, he hauls himself out of bed. Shigeo might be embarrassed, but it’s better than him choking on the bathroom floor.
The sliding door is halfway open, but Reigen knocks anyway. “Hey, you good?”
There’s no response. Reigen tries not to worry, but.
“I’m gonna come in.”
He hopes to god the kid’s decent and then slides the door open the rest of the way.
Shigeo’s curled up on the floor in front of the toilet, his arms smushed against his chest at awkward angles. His cheeks are flushed with thin strands of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, glassy eyes blinking ahead at nothing. It looks like he’s been crying, or is frighteningly close to. Reigen expected that but it aches all the same.
Reigen flushes the toilet and takes a knee by Shigeo’s head. No barrier. “Heya.”
Shigeo keeps blinking out into space, his arms curling tighter against his heart. He’s twenty two years old and definitely not a kid anymore, but he seems unsettlingly small like this.
“You doing okay?” The tiled floor is starting to bruise his knee, so he aims to sit instead, crossing his legs. “If you’re done throwing up we should head back. I wouldn’t trust the cleanliness of this floor.”
Shigeo blinks up at him this time, then back down as he wipes his face with his sleeve, sniffling. The sniffling jerks into a silent sob and tears run over the bridge of his nose.
“I miss my family,” Shigeo croaks.
Ah. Shit. Reigen scoots closer, presses his hand against Shigeo’s back while he trembles. His sobs are quiet and his tears soak into his sleeve.
“We were supposed to go somewhere together for winter break,” Shigeo gasps. He brings his fist against his mouth to brace himself, muffling his voice. “But my professor was sick last week and finals got pushed back, a-and—they, they already had tickets s-so I told them to go ahead without me. But I—I wanted to go, and it’s been hard to make friends, and—I miss them.”
Reigen nods, absentmindedly rubbing Shigeo’s back. He’ll make himself throw up again at this rate, but, whatever. Reigen isn’t going anywhere.
“I-I knew they were taking advantage of me when they invited me to that party,” Shigeo sniffles, “but, I… I almost didn’t care. I just didn’t wanna be alone all break, and I thought if I made some friends… Now I’ve done something stupid.”
Reigen sighs. The fact that loneliness drew Shigeo to this point hits too close to home. “It happens. God knows I did a lot of stupid shit in college.”
Shigeo’s shoulders fold inward. His face is flushed from crying and he’s definitely gonna feel it in the morning, but, it’s a simple matter. Reigen pats his back.
“Let’s get out of the bathroom, ‘kay?”
Shigeo sleeps the rest of the night, and Reigen makes sure his blinds are closed before sunup. The first time he staggered home drunk out of his braincells, his sister woke him up with thrown-open windows and an air horn that she’d apparently been “saving for a moment like this” and Shigeo deserves a gentler place to land.
“This is awful,” says Shigeo. “It isn’t as awful as being hit by a car but it’s awful.”
Reigen wishes he wouldn’t bring that up, but Shigeo’s tone is lighthearted if nothing else and so naturally Reigen matches it. “Yeah, I remember my first hangover,” he says, pushing a mug of green tea into Shigeo’s hands. “Except I hung out on the bathroom floor the whole time. Wouldn’t recommend that one.”
Shigeo takes the mug, setting the homemade icepack aside. The Tylenol doesn’t seem to have kicked in yet—how do psychic powers interact with over the counter drugs? Reigen never thought to ask but it probably won’t make a difference.
“Did you go to a lot of college parties when you were my age?” Shigeo asks.
Reigen sighs, dropping onto the opposite end of the couch and kicking his feet up. He takes a sip from his own mug. “A couple, but it was never my thing. I only went when I didn’t have anything else to do.” He pauses, swirls his cup and recites the promise he made to himself about never lying to Shigeo again. “I’d go when I was lonely, too, sometimes. That’s usually when I ended up on the bathroom floor.”
Shigeo is staring at him.
“I’m honestly pretty shocked your family went ahead without you,” Reigen digresses, leaning forward. “Your brother, too?”
Shigeo glances away, thumbing at the handle of the mug. “It was a lot of money,” he says. “Besides, it wouldn’t have been fair of me to ask them to give it up just because I couldn’t go. I never could have asked that of them.”
“They didn’t put up a fight about it?”
“They did,” Shigeo says, “but I did, too. I wanted them to have fun, and Ritsu’s been working so hard this semester and he’s been stressed.”
Sure, but Reigen isn’t wholly satisfied with that, so he lets the silence stretch and Shigeo fidgets some more with his mug.
“I really thought I’d be okay,” Shigeo says quietly. “There were a couple students talking about their families and none of them seemed to miss theirs, and… I know it isn’t wrong to miss people, but I wanted to be okay with it.”
Reigen sits forward, sighing. “Everyone misses people differently,” he says. “You’ve always been close with your family, and of course you’d be disappointed to miss out on doing something with them. Besides, just because someone doesn’t seem to miss their family doesn’t mean they don’t.”
“… Do you ever miss your family?”
He promised. “Not often, no, but sometimes. I’ve been on my own for a whopping fifteen years, though, and I was never as close to my family as you are to yours. It gets easier, but missing people isn’t a linear feeling.”
Shigeo sips his tea, processing. “That makes sense.”
Reigen turns to him more fully. “What I really wanna know is what the hell you meant when you said the shots were ‘stronger than they told you.’”
“Did I say that?” Shigeo says, alarmed. Reigen nods and Shigeo looks off into space again. “… It’s a little fuzzy, but, that about sums it up. They told me it was diluted, and…” He pauses. “They aren’t bad people, really, they just went too far.”
Reigen nods, stifling his anger for now. “I get what you’re trying to say, but you don’t mess with someone else’s alcohol. And you don’t lie to them about how much they’re drinking.”
Shigeo nods, stiff, sipping more of his tea.
“You should go for drinks with someone you trust,” Reigen says. “I bet Teruki would be down, and I know for sure Tome is. Ritsu’s twenty one now, too, isn’t he? He’d probably go.”
Reigen would volunteer himself, but he’d feel a little uncomfortable going to drinks with kids he’s known since they were middle schoolers, even if they’re all adults now. Best to leave this with Shigeo’s peers.
“Ritsu’s talked a bit about it,” Shigeo says. “I’ll see if he and the others want to sometime.”
“As long as you’re safe about it and get an Uber home or something, I say have fun. Oh, and make sure you’ve got something to eat while you’re drinking, too, that’s important. And if a drink gets left unattended then it’s dead to you.”
“Shishou will always be Shishou,” Shigeo says. The unabashed fondness in his voice catches Reigen off guard. “Thank you. And thanks for coming when I called, too. I’m sorry it was so late.”
Reigen waves a hand at him. “Don’t be, I’m glad you called when you did. I’ll always be around.”
“You got a company car.”
“Yep. Wait, did you not know about that? Seriously?”
“I know about it now, but it surprised me.”
“Well—”
Shigeo’s phone rings, cutting Reigen off. Shigeo swipes it off the coffee table.
“It’s Ritsu,” Shigeo says, stunned.
Reigen gets to his feet. “You can take it, I’ll get some more ice.”
Shigeo nods and answers just as Reigen steps toward the kitchen.
“Hello? Ritsu? —No, I’m alright. Finals are over, now. … Mm. Yeah. I hope you’re all having fun—what?—”
Reigen doesn’t listen in on purpose, but when the fridge and kitchen is three feet away from the living room there's only so much control he has over how much he hears.
“—Ritsu, no, I would never— … I’m okay, really. —No, I was the one who said you all should go… Don’t be, please, it’s okay.”
Reigen tosses the half-melted homemade ice pack into the freezer and pops a fresh round of ice cubes into a ziplock bag.
“… Are you sure? Mom and Dad— But—… Really? I would love to, but—” There's a long drag of silence. “… Only if you’re sure. Honestly, I’ve… I’ve really missed you guys. … Mm. Okay. Then I’ll see you tonight? —Sounds good. Bye, Ritsu.”
Reigen re-enters as Shigeo hangs up. “Tonight?”
Shigeo nods. “He and mom and dad decided to come home after all. They felt bad leaving me behind, but they also knew I’d be upset if they didn’t do anything on the trip, so they went to dinner and got a couple souvenirs. They’ll be back this afternoon.”
That checks out. Reigen thought it was pretty out of character for his family to leave him behind all winter break. “Glad to hear it, then. Want a ride back to your dorm?”
Shigeo thinks about it, running his thumb along the handle of his mug. “If you don’t mind, would it be okay if I stayed here a while longer?”
“Sure thing. I’ve got a job here in a couple hours, but as far as I’m concerned you can hang around until your family’s back in town.”
Shigeo nods, the tension leaking out of his shoulders. Reigen would be lying if he said he wasn’t hoping the kid would stick around; they don’t get a chance to catch up much these days.
“Thank you,” Shigeo says.
Reigen ruffles his hair.