Archive of Our Own ^beta

Reigen's first impression of hell is a cold rush in his chest that flushes out through his limbs, startling him awake.

Not that he knows that's what this place will become to him; he simply assumes that it's a prank as he stares out the window, observing the crimson landscape and the twisting ashen trees. One orchestrated by Dimple, and put into motion by Mob.

His theory is quickly dispelled by Serizawa, who notes after waking that this must be the parallel world they'd come to investigate. Between the endlessly looping train cars, and the unexpected confirmation that this place actually exists, Reigen finds himself quickly growing uneasy.

Hopefully they'll be able to make it out quickly.

Serizawa, as he finds out, has a knack for disappearing.

The two of them split to investigate, and Reigen doesn't see him again for at least a day. He's not 100% sure; it's difficult to track the time here. It's… less than pleasant, being alone for so long, but he doesn't blame Serizawa. He only worries for him.

Then Serizawa returns—abrupt, entirely unruffled—and he kicks back with a magazine as he explains to Reigen where they are, how they got here.

Reigen's a bit jealous of his nonchalance, the way he's perfectly at ease right now. He doesn't think the fine tremor in his hands has let up since he realized they were stuck. Envy aside, at least one of them has kept their cool.

But then Serizawa stands back up, announcing that he's going to take a bath, and Reigen bites down on his tongue. Maybe Serizawa isn't as okay as he thought if he's talking such nonsense.

He'll have to keep an eye on him as this unfolds. Make sure he doesn't crack any further.

Serizawa doesn't come back after that.

Reigen is careful with his food, careful to portion it out as strategically as he can. He doesn't think he's been here for terribly long so far, waiting for Serizawa to show back up—hoping for Serizawa to show back up—but he'd rather be overly cautious than be left with nothing. There's no telling how much longer this could go on.

So he ignores the vicious, gnawing hunger in his gut that begs for more, and busies himself with walking down the looping train, reassessing details he already knows like the back of his hand until he's too exhausted to stand.

He starts tallying the days with a screwdriver, notching them into the wall in an attempt to keep himself sane.

It's not accurate, because he doesn't try to add up the time that's already passed, nor does he have any means of knowing for sure when it's been a full day because the sky never changes. It's always the same dark, evil red, and so he's left relying on his own circadian rhythm.

It's better than nothing.

In a fit of raging boredom he sets to counting every seat on the train, stabbing holes in them as he goes. Then he counts them again, and gets a total that's one off from before, leaving him with no option but to count them all a third time, hunting for his mistake.

He's not gone enough to delude himself into thinking this is any sort of useful, but it at least offers the short-lived relief of a distraction. If he's counting, then there's no space left to think about how truly stuck he is.

He flings the screwdriver down the car, and it clangs loudly on the far wall, echoing back and forth in his head, between his ears—the ringing of his death knell.

He takes his hair in his fists and yanks on it, cursing.

It's been one week, as far as he can tell, since Serizawa had gotten up and walked out, not to be found again no matter how long and hard Reigen had searched. All he's been able to do is worry and pace, worry and pace.

He knows he should be taking it easy, reserving what energy he has, but sitting still for too long just makes it all the more unbearable; leaves him with nothing to focus on but himself.

Leaves him as he is now, heaving under the force of his hysteria.

So he takes a deep breath, unknots his fingers from his head, and—ignoring the dark shapes that swim across his eyes—he sets forth walking once more.

He trips over the screwdriver the third time he passes it, and stays down.

He adds another notch to the wall.

Twenty four days. Three and a half weeks. Almost one month.

He wonders how much time has passed on the outside as he stands from his squat, huffing, head spinning. He hopes desperately that there's some kind of discrepancy, a misalignment between what he perceives and what's actually passed.

Because otherwise, he's been missing for a while.

Otherwise, no one's bothered to come for him.

Otherwise, he doesn't think anyone will.

So, he hopes.

Hopes that maybe, through some freakish stretch of time and space, that it's only been a handful of minutes. That this is one elaborate, vivid nightmare, and that maybe when he wakes up it'll all disperse, break apart. Hopes that he won't remember any of this once it's over.

He waits, and he hopes.

Two more marks in the wall. Two more days spent endlessly wandering to no avail.

He holds the windowsill in a white-knuckled grip; his last resort. He'd only considered it briefly, fleetingly at first, but as time had worn on and his patience had worn thin he found that the option had grown steadily more appealing.

So he climbs up and balances carefully on the edge, legs shaking from some combination of nerves and the mild exertion that his body struggles to handle. The tracks race by below.

This doesn't seem so bad, does it?

He takes one deep, rallying breath, and then flings himself out, shouting as he arcs untethered through the air. He hits the ground hard, rolls, and then pops up, his heart beating rapidly only to plummet when he realizes that he's landed right back on this long since forsaken, godless train.

Devastated and enraged at the same time, he throws his head back and screams.

All of his thoughts after that come in the form of a thick, black, syrupy tar.

He manages, at one point, to scrape together the remaining shreds of his coherency and scrawl out a will. It gives at least some sort of use to the itinerary he'd brought along. In it he leaves the office to Mob, though he has no clue if his student would actually want it. Jots down some words for his parents, to have at least said something in case this ever manages to make its way back to them.

Then the door at the end of the car opens. For one timeless, suspended moment, he fully believes that it's the reaper, coming to take him away. He finds himself relieved.

Then he looks up, and—

Serizawa.

He's on his feet and running as soon as he can will his body to move, unable to care even slightly about how unhinged he must look. He careens into his employee, clutching his shoulders—solid, real, breathing, alive—

Then they sit, and he eats. The basic plastic-wrapped rice balls are like ichor, and he gets them down at the speed of light, upset stomach be damned. He chokes briefly on them, and drinks, and then finally, they talk.

He learns that Serizawa had known how to leave this entire time, and hadn't told him.

Rage snaps him up so fast that he forgets to even breathe, and he has to remind himself through the sudden lightheadedness that Serizawa is new. New to Reigen, to this job, to all of life.

He can't yell. Serizawa thought he was doing what he was supposed to do. He won't yell.

He ends up reassuring him instead, because what is Reigen good for if not pulling advice out of his ass, even on death's doorstep? That's not to say he doesn't mean what he tells him. Serizawa does need to live for himself; he doesn't belong to anyone, and Reigen doesn't want an unthinking yesman. He may adore being told that he's right, but look where it's gotten him this time around.

Serizawa looks at him afterwards like he's just handed him the moon and all of the stars, which is frankly way too much for Reigen to handle right now.

So he sends him off again right after to retrieve Mob, even though all he wants to do is latch on and never let go, and then he's alone, in the empty train, with the scraggly landscape, for who knows how long, why didn't he think about that, alone, again—

In all, he's left waiting for about one hour more. He spends the entire time bodily wrestling his panic down, unbearably antsy now that escape is so tantalizingly close, yet still not his to have.

But then Serizawa's back—and all of the kids, too—and Reigen's shaking as he takes the sight of them in, faces that he thought he'd never see again. Then Ritsu's eyes track down and he realizes that the screwdriver is laying by his feet. Right next to where he'd deliriously carved his name onto the train floor, at… some point. He doesn't remember doing it very clearly.

He kicks the tool aside and sets his shoe firmly over the etching. It's pretty embarrassing, now that he knows this place won't actually be his grave. He already knows he'll be masking this overreaction until the day he dies.

That doesn't stop him from embarrassing himself just a little bit more, as they're all beginning to settle in for the night.

He knows he won't be able to sleep like he knows his own name; it's an inherent, unshakable fact. He'd already slept all day long (because that's all that his experience had surmounted to in the end, just one single day), and is far too wired to lay down and try for more.

So he proposes a pillow fight. Don't kids like pillow fights?

He's shut down immediately, of course, and Serizawa very earnestly rubs salt in the wound by asking if it's an order. At least he hadn't blindly agreed. Reigen doesn't want to know how awkward it would have been if Serizawa had forced himself.

It doesn't take long for everyone  to lay down after that, and—as expected—he remains awake all through the night.

They're fairly prompt in leaving the next morning, due in no small part to Reigen's readiness to get out of this place and never once look back.

He thinks he's holding it together pretty well, although it's kind of hard to tell through the fog of sleeplessness, and what might be shock—but no one's questioned him thus far, so he's counting it as a success.

Then they have to board the train again.

He'd known this was coming, obviously; he hadn't had anything to occupy him last night but his own mind, and he'd thought about this inevitability more than once. It'd given him at least some level of preparation for this moment.

But all of that preparedness shrivels in the face of how his joints lock up when the horrid thing pulls into the station, and the doors slide open. The doors that he now has to willingly walk through, placing himself inside. Closed in. At mercy.

The three boys board without much fanfare, though Mob does spare one thoughtful glance back before he steps in.

Right, that's right. He's going to have four espers with him. Even if this does go horribly, inescapably wrong, they'll be able to figure it out together. However… last time they had all been together, too. And last time he had still ended up without them. There's no way for him to be sure he's safe.

Serizawa's worried face ducks in front of him, blocking out the view. "Are you okay?" he asks.

All Reigen can do for a minute is stare through him.

"Um," Serizawa adds, seeming unsure of what else to say.

Reigen clears his throat in an attempt to pull himself together. He hopes he doesn't look too haunted, or upset. No need to stress anyone out. "Fine," he manages with only a slight rasp. "Let's go before we miss our train."

His body has an odd reaction to speaking the word out loud, like it's trying to ask him what in the ever loving fuck he thinks he's doing, going back on that death trap after only just making it out by the skin of his teeth last time—

And then Serizawa nods and turns hesitantly around, taking a few halting steps before stopping and checking if Reigen's following, and—right. He will actually miss his chance to board if he keeps standing around like this. They'll miss their chance. Serizawa doesn't look like he's going to continue without him.

He's not entirely sure how he does it, but he's able to get himself walking, one mechanical step at a time. Serizawa turns back around. Reigen's glad they're not side by side; if his movements look anything like they feel, then he's surely a sight to behold.

They're at the doors so much sooner than he's ready for, and he can't break stride, won't be able to keep moving if he breaks stride, don't break stride—

He thinks he whites out for a second, because the next thing he knows he's sitting down. The sudden return of clarity is disorienting.

Serizawa is in the seat next to him, very clearly trying to watch him without actually looking. Sometimes Reigen wishes he was less perceptive, so that he could be blind to things like that—but he's not, and Serizawa's still watching, so now he has to convince them both that he's fine.

Which he is. His heart is not pounding, his shirt is not stuck to his back with sweat, his hands are not trembling—none of him is. His breath isn't short, his sight isn't tunneled, and the walls are not closing in on him. He's fine.

It… sort of works. Marginally. He isn't outwardly hyperventilating or climbing up the sides of the car, so that's something of a success.

But then the train enters a passage, and darkness pummels its way inside, and his breath does not hitch, his heart does not palpitate in his throat, his head does not spin, he does not feel vaguely nauseous, he is fine.

He is fine, really, but he still stands—too abrupt, can't play that off now, just forget about it—and shuffles in a hurry to the bathroom, all while the shifting, sparking cloud of panic slowly creeps further in from the edges of his vision. He makes it to the tiny room and only just manages to sit on the floor before he collapses and splits his face open.

Okay Arataka, he thinks, and it's probably the most hysterical his own mind has ever sounded to him. Not the first time in your life you've been here. Head between your knees. Deep breath in. Hold it. Out. Again. In. Hold. Out. Keep—

There's a knock on the door and he jumps, rapping his head on the wall he's pressed against. An odd, strangled noise wrestles free from him. Under any other circumstance he would probably at least chuckle at himself, but his heart is still thudding in his throat, punching the air from his lungs, and it's cold and the train is rattling and he's forgotten to breathe—

And Serizawa's voice creeps softly through the door. "Reigen-san…?"

He opens his mouth, intending to say something reassuring that will send Serizawa back to his seat, but all he manages to do is gasp like the room has no oxygen. The world rocks particularly hard and he claws at the tiles, ears ringing. He's pretty sure he's choking back the panicked sounds that are trying to fight out of him well enough that the train is drowning the rest out, at least.

The train. That he is on. That he cannot leave until they get home.

He can't leave.

He tucks his head back between his knees, trying very hard not to pass out. Then the door shakes and he realizes Serizawa is still there, talking on the other side.

"—ease? You're worrying me." The knob twists. "I don't want to walk in on you, uh… using the bathroom. But if you don't say anything I… I'm going to come in."

That's the last thing Reigen wants to happen. It's the only thing Reigen wants to happen. It's the thing that already is happening, because he was too busy quaking apart on the floor to tell his brand new subordinate not to come in and witness his boss having the panic attack of his fucking life.

He hears the lock click itself open—fucking espers—and the door bumps gently against his hip. He chooses not to look up, and to instead keep breathing in the hopes that what hasn't been working for the past… how long…? will suddenly kick in, and he'll be able to tell Serizawa that he's fine and to go on his way.

But then his body is suddenly weightless, shifting to the side, and Serizawa opens the door the rest of the way before entering and pushing it shut again behind him. And then he's there, in the tiny cramped bathroom, with Reigen.

Fucking espers.

He takes a laughably shaky breath and looks up, trying to puff himself full of false bravado and praying that Serizawa won't see straight through his complete and utter bullshit. The attempt fails immediately when Serizawa kneels, joining him on the ground and placing his hands on Reigen's shoulders.

"Reigen…" he says, voice far away. It's more the fact that he's dropped the -san for once that's caught Reigen's attention, telling some basal, instinctual part of him that he should listen. "Can you talk to me?"

He tries—he really, honestly does—to claw himself together enough to say something, but he can't. It's all he can do to keep his unfocused gaze trained on Serizawa's stressed eyes.

Poor Serizawa, he thinks. Reigen had only wanted him to have fun and loosen up, and now he's here dealing with all of this. Serizawa's eyebrows pinch closer together, and—right, he hadn't answered the question. He shakes his head no.

Serizawa hesitates for a long minute after that, though that may just be Reigen's own perception drawing the seconds out. Maybe being locked in that other place had broken him, and each waking moment is going to be stretched into an eternity like this from now on—

Then one of Serizawa's hands pets from his shoulder down his arm, and he can't stop himself from shuddering and leaning into the decidedly real-time motion. It's a tether, something physical to cling to, and when it grabs and squeezes he finally manages to fully exhale.

Serizawa nods a little bit. It seems like it was mostly to himself. This can't be easy for him—Reigen needs to get it together and—

And he's being pulled into Serizawa's chest. What the hell, why not. This might as well happen.

Serizawa is moving very carefully, situating them comfortably. Reigen tries and fails to help with his uncoordinated legs while also trying to retrieve his voice again so that he can tell Serizawa this isn't necessary.

It's not that it isn't helping; it's actually very relieving to feel and be felt by another living, breathing person, something he hadn't had on the other side. It's just that he's supposed to be Serizawa's boss, has only been his boss for a very short amount of time now, and this really doesn't bode well for Reigen's standing as said boss.

Especially when, once they're settled, he finds himself essentially in Serizawa's lap.

But… it's too late to put a stop to it now. So maybe he'll just… he can be a little bit selfish for a minute, just until the worst of it passes… 

A hand pets down his back, which encourages him in reaching around Serizawa—slowly, because he doesn't want to just latch on with no warning—and when he doesn't back away, Reigen clutches hard at the bulk of him, not fully able to reign his desperation in. Because Serizawa's real, he's here, he's solid, and Reigen's not alone, can't be alone if he holds tight enough.

Of course, this also allows him to feel how tense Serizawa is. This can't be a very nice experience for him. Now that he's finally unwound enough to speak again, Reigen says into Serizawa's chest, "Sorry. This is—not… part of your job." He tries to tack a laugh on, and is disappointed by the anxious edge it holds.

Serizawa continues to stroke down his back. "It's okay. Breathe." He sounds a little bit scared.

Reigen shakes his head, unable to get it together enough to explain that Serizawa doesn't have to do this for him, that he's fine and doesn't need to be cradled. Of course, it would probably help to get that point across if he wasn't still hugging him. He relaxes his arms and sits back up a little bit, unable to look him in the eye.

"I—" his voice breaks, and he clears his throat and tries again, leaning away to put more space between them while he motions. "I'm fine. I was just… temporarily overwhelmed by a, uh… spiritual rebound. From the…" he trails off, his lies feeling more idiotic than normal.

"Are you… sure?" Serizawa asks, sounding skeptical now. He's not holding on to Reigen anymore, hands floating off to the side.

"Yes, I am. I—"

The train jolts again, barely enough to shift them to the side, and he startles into Serizawa, thumping against him—and then Serizawa gives a quiet oof, reminding Reigen of where they are and what they're doing, and that sends him startling back again, barking out one harried laugh and a, "Whoops!"

Serizawa just looks at him, unreadable, and Reigen realizes his hands are fisted in the front of Serizawa's suit. He can't bring himself to let go. He should, but he can't.

He doesn't really know what to say. Serizawa looks like he's having some kind of epiphany. Maybe he shouldn't interrupt that.

Then the train rattles again and a tremor races up his spine, ending in his hands where his fingers twist tighter. That expression of realization settles deeper on Serizawa's face, and then it crumples inwards into something very sad, and—

And there are hands holding Reigen's face now.

The sweaty skin cupping either side of him is an effective distraction. Very effective. His brain is shut down for an entirely different reason now as he waits, eyes wide and breath bated.

"Is this because—were you…" Serizawa stops, and Reigen feels a finger twitch against his temple. "How long…?"

"How… long…?" Reigen asks back, not fully processing the words. He blinks hard, letting Serizawa vanish momentarily, and then tugs back slightly. Serizawa's hands drop to his shoulders. "I mean, who? Long?" He clears his throat again. "How long what?"

"How long were you there?" Serizawa asks, and it's really not fair how close his shining, emotional eyes are.

Reigen had been hoping to avoid that question. "Hell if I know," he says, turning his head to the side. He's settled enough to slide a blank look over his face now, staring at the door. "A few days?"

"Reigen…" Serizawa says, both coaxing and weary at once, and it's a much different tune than he'd held before the trip as he'd clutched at his overfilled bag. "How long?" he presses.

Reigen continues to stare at the door. His advice to Serizawa is biting him in the ass now, it would seem. He stretches his brain for the best way to make this sound like he's unaffected, and ends up rolling with the same sort of feigned ignorance. "Maybe… maybe a few weeks?"

Serizawa squeezes his shoulders in immediate response, and that's when Reigen decides they've been doing this long enough. He stands, nearly bashing Serizawa in the face with his knee, and hastily pats himself down. "I'm fine. Let's get out of here. Who knows what those boys are up to without us."

Then he unlocks the door, staggering around Serizawa and out, leaving him no time to protest. He's still clammy, and his heart twists on every other beat, pulse beating under everything he hears—but it's manageable now. He can play this off; he'll simply have to keep his hands in his pockets, or flying through the air, so no one notices the slight shake. He just had to get out of there before the concern radiating from Serizawa started to choke him out more than the train was.

The kids look up as he approaches, three heads swiveling in sync, and they exchange a loaded look between themselves after. Reigen gets a pang of near-irritation. What gives them the right to act like they all know what's going on?

Serizawa reappears behind him—he can feel the air shift in that way it tends to do around espers, barely noticeable if he wasn't acclimated to it—and Teruki's eyebrows shoot up. He doesn't even try to hide it. Ritsu at least has the grace to school his reaction into something more vague.

He glances over his shoulder at Serizawa—suit crumpled on the front, still bearing darkened, sweat-upon prints from Reigen's fists—and tells himself resolutely that the boys know nothing, sitting back down.

Serizawa deposits himself neatly next to him, closer than before. This time Ritsu's eyebrows raise as well. Or, one of them, at least. That's still an entire eyebrow's worth of curiosity, though.

Whatever! He doesn't have to tell them anything.

But Mob is looking at him too, gaze heavy, and he's starting to sweat again. "Are you okay, Shishou?" he asks.

"Never been better. What are you three up to?" Reigen asks back, relieved when he sounds normal, if not a little tired.

"We were about to play a game," Mob says, and Teruki holds up a pack of cards he hadn't noticed. "Do you want to join?"

Distraction sounds like a good idea. "Deal me in," he says.

As exposing as that fiasco in the bathroom had been, he is admittedly more grounded in reality thanks to Serizawa's interception.

The card game helps too, keeping his mind off of other things in favor of wiping the floor with these middle schoolers. Any concern they may have held dissipates in the face of his ruthless playing—aside from Mob's, who continues to send cautious looks his way, like he's searching for some kind of leftover… something. Serizawa is back to watching him as well, doing a poor job of subtlety.

Reigen manages not to cause another scene, though, even with the ache in his chest that persists for the rest of the trip.

Exhaustion does, however, drag heavily at his heels by the time they finally pull into their stop, becoming much more obvious once he steps off and the last dredges of fight-or-flight drain from him. It takes all of his willpower not to fall over and pass out right there, and to instead drag himself and his increasingly-heavy luggage out of the station after saying goodbye and goodnight to the boys.

It feels strange to be back in the city, trudging along and numbly absorbing everything around him, another set of sights that he fully expected to never see again. So strange, in fact, that it takes him far longer than it should to realize that someone has been silently tailing him.

He stops short and turns around, and Serizawa jumps.

"What are you doing?" he asks, the words blunt and flat with his nonexistent energy.

Serizawa's mouth opens and closes again, and instead of answering he points down at Reigen's bag. "Would you like me to pull that for you?"

Reigen blinks at him once, twice, three times, and then decides fuck it. "Go for it," he says, letting go of it at an angle, leaving it to rock back and forth. Serizawa comes closer and takes the handle in his free hand, now toting both of their suitcases. Then he looks up at him again, like he's expecting something.

"Did you need anything?" Reigen asks.

"No, I just—can I—no," Serizawa argues with himself before shaking his head and starting over. "I want to walk you home."

"You—" Reigen pauses, trying to dissect Serizawa's body language. He's standing up straighter than usual, fists tight, and there's something distinctly upset behind his eyes. "You don't have to do that, you know," he says. "I know you're tired, you can go home."

Serizawa shakes his head again, and takes one tiny step closer. "I want to," he repeats himself. Then he shifts on his feet, eyes darting away and back. "Unless you don't… want me to? I just thought that… after…"

He won't even say it. Reigen feels his face draw tight, something unpleasantly bitter hooking into its edges before he can subdue it into apathy. The lack of control makes him angry. "I'm fine. Go home, go to sleep, I can handle myself."

Except he hadn't handled himself, he absolutely had not, not back in the bathroom where he'd hung off of Serizawa like his life had depended on it—

"Are you sure?" Serizawa asks, his voice suddenly soft and knowing, and Reigen really doesn't handle being known very well.

So he turns around, upset heat prickling over his neck and ears and the backs of his eyes, and flicks a hand dismissively over his shoulder. "Fine," he says, before Serizawa can ask that again. "You want to walk me home, then let's go."

He sets off much faster than he needs to, and the sound of wheels rolling and bumping over the sidewalk behind him is the only indication that Serizawa is following. He must have intimidated him into silence.

Great. Now he feels guilty. Way to be an asshole, huh?

Of course Serizawa is worried. He has a big, bleeding heart, just like Mob, and Reigen had just about snapped his hand off over it. In his own defense, he is extremely tired, and—if he's going to be honest with himself—likely some level of traumatized, though he knows that's no excuse. He sighs, and slows down. He needs to apologize before Serizawa decides he's better off not voicing his wants.

Then Serizawa beats him to it, saying, "I'm sorry."

His voice is solemn. Reigen stops fully and turns back around, and Serizawa doesn't notice at first, his head bowed. He nearly walks straight into him before realizing and taking a tiny hop back. "Don't apologize," Reigen says. "I shouldn't have snapped."

He means to say more, but it all gets stuck. Apologies have never really been his strong suit.

"No, not that," Serizawa says, "but thank you. I meant… about that other place." His head hangs again and he pulls his foot back like he's going to scuff his toes against the pavement, and then he seems to think better of scratching his shoes and sets it down again. "You… were there for a while."

Reigen waits, giving Serizawa the space to elaborate.

"More than you're willing to tell me," he says, looking up from his feet to make steady eye contact. So he hadn't bought that lie, then. He continues, speech sounding both like it's been rehearsed and is spilling uncontrollably out. "I left you there because I was more worried about making a good impression than watching out for danger and I—"

"Hey," Reigen interrupts him, throat finally unsticking. "Don't—that's not your fault. You did what you thought was right."

"I didn't notice," Serizawa says back, quiet and pained. He wears more sorrow than Reigen has ever been comfortable seeing directed at him, of all people. "You were there for so long and… I'm sorry."

He can feel his face twisting up again. He takes one too-large step closer to Serizawa and claps a hand firmly down on his shoulder. "Don't be. It wasn't your fault," he says again. Serizawa still looks too deeply conflicted for his liking, so Reigen adds, "I forgive you."

Serizawa nods slowly, like he's really letting that soak in. "Okay," he says, still a touch soft. Reigen releases him and steps away, and Serizawa looks him up and down. "Are you… going to be okay?"

"What do you mean?" Reigen asks.

He'd meant it as a deflection, an I'm-perfectly-fine-why-would-you-even-consider-otherwise, but Serizawa takes the question at face value. "I mean tonight. Are you going to be okay tonight?" he asks.

And, because he is allergic to all things honest, Reigen asks, "Why wouldn't I be?" He thinks his stiffening shoulders betray his poker face, the way Serizawa's concern doesn't waver.

"Well… you didn't sleep last night," he says, hands twisting over the luggage handles. "Was it because of bad dreams…?"

Reigen didn't know he'd noticed that. He's unreasonably relieved to have a genuine excuse this time. "It was because I slept all day," he says, giving a small smile and what he hopes is an amused-looking shrug.

"Oh," Serizawa says. "Well…"

He trails off, either pondering something or at a loss, so Reigen prompts, "Let's get going before we stand here all night. Are you still walking me home?"

"Yes," Serizawa says with surprising confidence, straightening up and approaching so they're side by side. "Of course."

Reigen turns around, and without another word, they resume the trek to his apartment.

He's immensely grateful in the end that he hadn't managed to turn Serizawa away. If it had been up to him to fight his bag to the second floor he's sure he would have fallen down the stairs, and it'd have really sucked to survive all that he did only to get home and snap his neck trying to make it inside.

He shakes out of the idle morbidity when they reach his apartment, turning to thank Serizawa—who he sees has carried both of their bags up. Reigen points down at them. "Why didn't you leave your stuff down there?"

"Um," Serizawa says, in suspicious lieu of an answer.

Luckily for him, Reigen is ready to drop and really doesn't feel like picking that apart. So he shrugs and unlocks his door, and then leans over to pull his bag from Serizawa. "Thanks for… everything," he says. "Get home safe?"

Instead of letting go of the bag, Serizawa moves forwards with it, stepping closer. "If it's not too much of me to ask, would it… be alright if I slept here?" he asks, eyes darting between Reigen and his now-open door.

Reigen doesn't fully register that at first, head swampy with the pull of sleep.

Serizawa takes the silence as inquisitive—which, to be fair, Reigen does stay silent in the form of a question fairly often—and continues, "I'm… tired. So it would be helping me if you let me in."

He's pretty clearly bluffing, bearing far too many tells for Reigen to miss the lie. He doesn't know how he feels about that; about Serizawa knowing he has to use some sort of guise for Reigen to let him help. He looks ready to implode with apprehension, though, and Reigen doesn't have it in him to put up a fight, so he says, "Alright. I guess you do have an overnight bag, so…"

He trails off, staring at said bag, and then decides not to finish the thought, turning and walking inside. He ditches his shoes and his own bag by the door, and finds he doesn't have it in him to care too much about hospitality, either, digging out something to sleep in without checking if Serizawa's come in.

"Sorry about—" He looks out and around, ready to wave over whatever mess there is, and remembers he'd cleaned the place before he left, wanting to return home to a neat apartment. It's habitual practice for him before a trip. He'd done it yesterday. "…Nevermind."

He straightens out and steps into the bathroom to change, still not looking at Serizawa. He doesn't want him to see the dazedness that's settled over him. It doesn't help anything when he closes himself in, and finds he can smell the glass cleaner he'd used on the mirror.

Only yesterday.

He shakes his head until it hurts, and then shucks out of his suit, into his pajamas. He forgoes a shower on the basis of not wanting to slip and die, which would leave Serizawa to find his dead, naked body, because he does not need Serizawa to find his dead and naked body. He does splash his face off, though, washing away the imaginary gunk that's clung to his skin since his otherworldly stay.

Then he comes back out, and Serizawa hasn't done anything aside from shutting the front door and standing next to it.

"Are you going to come in?" Reigen asks.

"Oh, yes," Serizawa says, taking only one step away from the entrance.

Reigen stares at him for a few seconds, sluggish cogs turning, and then decides Serizawa can just go ahead and do what he wants. "You can help yourself to a shower if you'd like. Towels are over there," he says, giving a halfhearted gesture that probably doesn't clarify much, "and the extra blankets are, uh…"

He blinks off into the air, having to think about that for far longer than he should need to. "Right. They're with the towels, you'll find them in the same spot. Goodnight."

He then crosses the room and collapses into bed. He hears a soft goodnight spoken back to him, and then finally passes out.

He wakes back up groggy and disoriented, and feeling like he hadn't slept for one second. He heaves a sigh and stretches before burrowing back into his pillow, throwing a leg out to get comfortable and then relaxing again.

He feels like he could sleep for a full day if he let himself, and he plans to do just that. It's been a while since he's had access to his own bed, even if all those nights hadn't been real, and he's going to enjoy it.

But then, after he's settled and the shifting blankets go quiet, he picks up on the sound of breathing across the room. He snaps fully awake and shoves himself up, and—right. Serizawa. He's really not accustomed to waking up with someone else nearby.

He stays there for a minute, taking in the sight. Serizawa looks like he's sleeping pretty peacefully, one arm off the side of the couch and the other laid across his stomach. It also looks like he'd found the blankets, though the one he has is halfway to the floor, only covering one of his legs. He looks warm anyways.

Reigen's eyes linger on his lax face, relaxed to a point he didn't know it could get, and then down to where his chest steadily rises and falls. Real, alive, and looking oddly exposed in just the t-shirt he'd chosen to sleep in.

He should stop staring now. Only so much can be written off as looking for reassurance. He lets his arms collapse under him, flopping back into the bed.

He's surprised he hadn't had any stressful, scrawling dreams. Maybe he shouldn't be, given how hard he'd crashed. Or maybe he'd had a freak stroke of luck, and won't have any at all, ever. That'd be pretty convenient.

Though, he does have to wonder what would've happened if he had had a nightmare. Would Serizawa have woken up? Would Reigen have been plastered against him again?

He huffs and paffs his face into his pillow. He's still embarrassed about what'd happened on the train, and yet here he is wanting it again. It's just delirium. Half-lucid delirium. That, and the innate human desire for contact, probably. When's the last time he'd been held like that?

Had he ever been?

He picks up his head and then drops it against the pillow again. Go to sleep, Arataka.

It takes longer than it should to put any thoughts of big, warm arms around him back out of his head, but he does manage to, and drifts off.

Then he dreams about them instead.

The second time he wakes up, he does so prepared to see Serizawa on his couch. He takes a minute to pop his back where he lays before turning his head to the side to check on how he's doing, and can't help the startled sound he makes.

Serizawa is sitting up, fully dressed and awake, staring at him.

It's… pretty unnerving. "Uh," Reigen says, froggy with sleep, "good morning."

"Good morning," Serizawa says back, with the same cadence he's used every morning they've had so far at the office. Not that there's been a ton of those, but enough for it to feel out of place to hear the greeting here. "I wanted to wait until you woke up to make sure you were okay," he explains.

And he's still staring.

Reigen flips the pillow out from under his head and covers his face. "I'm fine. You can go home."

There's a pause in which neither of them moves, and then Reigen remembers he's supposed to be a host. "Actually," he says, throwing the pillow aside, "you're probably hungry, huh? I can make breakfast."

He stands up to do that, and Serizawa says, "I don't really eat first thing in the morning. It takes an hour or two before I can, usually."

"Oh," Reigen says back, brief momentum dissipating. They look at each other, neither sure what exactly to say. It's usually up to Reigen to carry them through these lulls, but he doesn't have the energy to come up with anything, instead rolling Serizawa's words around in his head—until he comes to a realization, that is. "Wait, do you eat before work?"

Serizawa abruptly avoids his gaze. "Usually?"

Reigen clicks his tongue before he can help himself, and Serizawa looks at him again, seeming almost confused. "You need to eat something in the morning," Reigen says. "I don't mind if it has to happen in the office. I need my employees in tip top shape, you know."

Serizawa gives him a funny looking smile after that, tiny and pleased, and Reigen's not sure what to do with it. He ends up not having to think about it as the look dampens, and Serizawa asks, "So... you're okay?"

Just the topic he'd been trying to avoid. He turns around and starts straightening out his blanket, so that he doesn't have to look at Serizawa when he answers. "As okay as I can be," he says, and it sounds less reassuring than he'd meant it to.

Serizawa must really think about that, because there's a pointed silence before he hears the couch shift. "Okay. I don't want to overstep, but uh…" he trails off, and Reigen smooths out one last nonexistent wrinkle before turning around.

Serizawa, somehow, looks extremely unsure of himself and steadfastly confident at the same time. "Do you want to talk about it?" he finishes.

Reigen looks at him—this vast oxymoron of a man sitting on his couch—and he thinks he can say in all honesty that no, he does not. He'd really rather forget that anything ever happened. But simultaneously, everything he'd experienced is pushing on the back of his teeth, trying desperately to spill out and pool at the feet of whoever will bear witness to it—and he claps his hands loudly together, making Serizawa jump and putting a stop to that particularly dramatic thought.

"I'm fine," he says. "You don't need to hang around here, you can go home."

Serizawa takes another thoughtful pause in which he just keeps on looking and Reigen feels like he's being peeled open, and then he asks, "What exactly… happened while you were there?"

That's an easy answer, at least.

"Nothing," he says and shrugs. Serizawa's face shifts to something that could nearly be described as fed up—and, wow, that's a new one from him. "I'm serious," Reigen adds, joining him on the couch. He folds forwards to prop his chin in his hand, putting Serizawa back out of sight and hiding his own face. "Literally nothing. What else could have happened on an empty train?"

Serizawa doesn't say anything, and Reigen wonders if he should have been more delicate with his words.

"Look," he says, another attempt to dismiss him, "you can go. I really am okay." He's satisfied with how he'd kept his voice steady, not betraying that desperate push that's still trying to wrench itself up his throat that wants Serizawa to stay and listen. He doesn't need any pity, and Serizawa doesn't need to do any pitying.

"I think I'll take you up on breakfast," Serizawa says unexpectedly. "If the offer is still open…? And if you're willing to uh… wait a little bit, until I can eat."

There he goes again, handing Reigen excuses to keep him around. "Alright. As long as you're okay with plain eggs," he says.

Serizawa gives a cautious little laugh, like he doesn't know if he should. "That is what I usually have, so that's fine."

They slide back into silence after that, and Reigen wonders if this tense air is going to chase them around for the rest of the morning. He's getting sick of it pretty fast. He doesn't have it in him to fill the room with his usual flair, though; he still feels like he'd barely slept.

Serizawa ends up taking initiative. "What was it like?" he asks, his voice pitched low, like someone's asleep next to them and he's trying not to wake them up.

Reigen glances over his shoulder, and Serizawa still has those caring eyes trained directly on him.

"The… nothing, I mean," Serizawa adds. "What was it like…?"

Reigen turns back around to stare at the wall across from them.

Maddening would be one word to describe it. With nothing to do but watch, and wander, and absorb the same scenery he'd memorized on day one; with nothing to do but scrutinize the details within the details, searching for anything possibly new to see, to focus on that wasn't himself and the rattling cars and how doomed he was; with nothing to do but sit there and think, and think, and think, and think, and think, and think, and think—

"It was boring," Reigen says. "Really boring."

The pause before his answer must have communicated something that his words hadn't, because Serizawa says, "I think I understand," with much more gravity than boredom deserves. "I mean, it wasn't the same thing, but…"

He trails off, and realization dawns. "Your room," Reigen says quietly, having been drawn into the careful air that Serizawa's been emitting.

"Yeah," Serizawa says back. "My room was very… boring."

He must mean the same thing. There's no way he doesn't. Reigen's sure they each have their own personal brand of sickness knocking around their skulls, but the meaning is still loud and clear.

He doesn't say anything back to that, letting the connection drift between them. He doesn't think he has this conversation in him right now—even if he hasn't truly said anything yet. He doesn't have it in him to be seen the way that Serizawa is seeing.

The couch shifts then as Serizawa moves, his weight pressing the dip closer to Reigen. A knee comes into view—and there's a moment of hesitation, followed by a hand laying gently on his shoulder, like a cautious imitation of the enthusiastic claps Reigen likes to bestow upon him.

"I know it's not… the same thing, like I said," Serizawa says. The hand on his shoulder squeezes gently. "But if it ever… if you ever feel like you can't…" He stumbles over his words, and Reigen hears him give a little frustrated puff. "I'm sorry, I'm not very good at wording these kinds of things yet."

He shakes his head on near autopilot. "It's okay. Take your time."

"Thank you," Serizawa says, far too genuine. There's another pause after, and Reigen waits. "If you start to feel like you can't… trust what you see… or like it's slipping away—you think you're—well… you can call me. Or text." He audibly swallows. "If you want to."

The offer feels pretty stupid. Not because of Serizawa—but because Reigen had been through about one month of isolation, give or take, while Serizawa had gone through fifteen years. And Reigen's supposed to be his guidance right now; he's supposed to be helping him as he reacclimates to living a live that doesn't have anything to do with locking yourself up or joining a terrorist cult—

"Reigen?" Serizawa says.

And there's that lack of an honorific again, placing them on even footing. Reigen thinks he's been looking unfairly down on Serizawa. He may have abysmally low experience with day-to-day life, but he's still an adult, and he's still here seeing through Reigen in a way he hadn't even slightly expected.

"Are you… alright?" Serizawa asks.

He takes a deep, steadying breath. "Yes, I am, thank you. And I uh… I'll keep that in mind. I appreciate it." Of course, he has no intention of actually taking Serizawa up on his offer, but it's not a lie that he's grateful for it anyways.

"Of course," Serizawa says back, sounding like he really means it.

Then his hand drags away, and Reigen nearly grabs after it on instinct—but he manages to stop himself just in time, right after jolting up fast enough to make the room sway for a brief moment.

Which means he and Serizawa are level with each other now, making eye contact. He can see the sheerly worried curiosity burning through Serizawa. Since they're already doing this soul baring song and dance, Reigen figures he might as well ask, "What is it?"

Serizawa looks vaguely embarrassed at being caught out so easily. Reigen tries to feel satisfied by that—a taste of your own medicine, huh—but he can't quite manage it. "Well," Serizawa says, "I don't want to ask you something that… you don't want to talk about."

"How about I just won't answer if I don't like the question?" Reigen says back, knowing that he's toeing a dangerous line.

"Are you sure?" Serizawa asks, leaning barely in. "I don't want to upset you."

"Yes, I'm sure," Reigen says, a little bit exasperated. "You don't need to keep asking me that."

It's Serizawa who looks away this time, studying his hands on his own knees. "Okay. So, you never told me very specifically… what you know of how long…?"

This again. Reigen drops his chin back into his hand, but with his torso twisted to continue facing Serizawa. "The specifics don't really matter, do they?"

Serizawa looks back up, into his eyes. "Do they matter to you?"

"Maybe… at the time," Reigen relents, feeling a little bit pinned. "But I'm out now. So it doesn't matter anymore."

Serizawa is quiet, brow heavy like he doesn't agree but won't say it out loud.

Reigen turns away again. "I mean, how important to you is the specific timeframe you spent in your room?"

"Well," Serizawa starts readily, apparently finding this an easier topic to address, "it's something I avoided thinking about while I was actually inside. Then once I got out I didn't really… have to face it, while I was in claw. Because I wasn't really part of the real world there. I was still sheltered in a sense. And…"

He loses steam abruptly. Unseen, Reigen cringes at the wall.

But Serizawa continues, "It's important to… to process the amount of time I wasted in there. And you can't process something if you don't acknowledge it."

He wonders if Serizawa had read that somewhere, or if he'd just figured it out himself. Reigen doesn't know if he's ever felt more out of his element.

"I… think so, at least," Serizawa says, sounding more uneasy at being faced with silence. "I mean… I guess I'm not really that far removed from it yet but I—"

"You're right," Reigen says, interrupting him. "You're…" He stops to laugh lightly. "I thought I was supposed to be the wise one."

Serizawa sounds shy when he says, "It's just what I've experienced."

Reigen nods absently. "That makes sense…" He can hear a plane outside when he trails off, engine roaring far overhead. Then, unceremoniously, he says, "It was twenty eight days." A pause. "From the time that I actually started counting, anyways."

The plane is gone when he stops again. It makes the quiet heavy, heavier still when Serizawa doesn't say anything.

"It wasn't… it wasn't so bad," Reigen continues, not entirely sure which one of them he's speaking to. "It could have been a hell of a lot worse. It could've…"

He trails off, thinking about how many times he'd tried and failed to get comfortable enough to sleep on the seats. How many times he'd given up and settled for the cold, cold floor instead, how many times he'd fallen asleep wondering if that place would be his grave. How many times he'd fallen asleep wondering if anyone cared. How many times he'd fallen asleep weeping, because why bother holding back with no one around?

Then Serizawa's hand is on his shoulder again, tight, and he jumps back to the present where he realizes there's tears rolling hot from his eyes. He's tugged at anxiously, pulled back to where Serizawa can look into his face—when had he hunched so far over?—and Reigen turns his head the other way. He's snotty, and this is embarrassing, and he's not usually a cryer, is getting mad at himself now—

"Do you want a hug?" Serizawa asks.

Reigen huffs wetly and considers making some kind of joke about preferring a tissue. He decides to just grab a handful for himself instead, plucked free from the box on his coffee table, and wipes his face down. Then he closes his eyes and pictures himself body slamming his tear ducts shut, and the stupid mental image is just barely enough to get him to quit the waterworks.

"Okay," he says, choosing to pretend his voice hadn't shaken on the word.

He doesn't move, though, and Serizawa sounds confused when he asks, "Uh… okay to the hug…?"

"Yeah," Reigen says, still unmoving. He's being an asshole, but whatever. He is an asshole, it's just part of him. This is Serizawa's fault for trying to cheer up such a jerk.

"O… kay," Serizawa says. Then the couch shifts again, and there's arms around him. He keeps his eyes shut, and turns his head to lay on Serizawa's shoulder as he's held.

The embrace is making it difficult to maintain his white knuckled grip on the dramatic breakdown that's trying to commence. He sniffs grossly, and bites down the urge to apologize. If he apologizes then Serizawa will think something's wrong.

He already thinks something's wrong, you idiot, another part of Reigen snipes at him.

Following that, he waits for the count of ten, and then sits back up. Serizawa doesn't resist his pulling away. Why would Serizawa resist that? Reigen clears his throat, and it makes him sound a little bit wrecked. "Thanks," he says, flat and toneless.

"Any time," Serizawa says. "Really."

Reigen stands, taking a sharp inhale as he goes, trying to kick up some kind of energy inside of his dead-feeling chest. "Well!" he chirps, and it's way too enthusiastic, he sounds like a maniac doesn't he— "If I get started on those eggs now then you'll probably be ready to eat by the time they're done, right?"

"Yeah," Serizawa says back, perfectly conversational and devoid of any of the judgment Reigen deserves.

He putters into the kitchen, poking through cabinets for his one good skillet. "How do you like them done?"

"Oh, no preference," Serizawa answers, that flutter of familiar tentativeness coming back into his voice, like he's the problem here. Reigen supposes he hasn't been very receptive to his help, so it's probably his fault he feels like that. "You can make them however you'd like."

Reigen turns around to face him again, pan in hand. "Come on, how can you not have any preference?"

"I don't know," Serizawa says, looking sincerely confused. "I just don't."

It doesn't seem like he's bluffing. Reigen looks at the pan in his grip, thinking. Scrambled is the easier option, so… that means if he does fried eggs, then it's fancy. Right? Fancy enough that he never puts the effort in for himself, at least.

Serizawa is disconcertingly quiet as he sets some oil to start heating and pulls the eggs out. Reigen risks a glance over to see what has him distracted, and finds him doing the intense-staring thing again. He seems entirely unabashed at being caught. Reigen sniffs and turns back, cracking four eggs into the pan. Two of the yolks break open. These will have to be his, then, and he'll do better on the next round.

"So," Reigen starts, watching them sizzle. "Did you enjoy your vacation? Aside from—you know." He looks back up after he asks, and finds Serizawa looking guilty. It's kind of touching. "You can say yes even though I didn't have a good time," he adds, smiling in a way that is probably eons too soft. He'll blame it on the fatigue.

Serizawa gives him a faltering little smile back, eyes roaming over Reigen's face. "It… was pretty nice, to be honest. The snow was very pretty. And the hot springs were… they were relaxing."

Reigen nods and turns back to the task at hand, sliding a spatula from a drawer and poking at the eggs. They're not ready to flip yet, so he gets some seasonings on them. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. Means it wasn't a total waste," he says with a put-on 'ha!' at the end.

"Uh, yeah," Serizawa says back, sounding like he's not entirely sure of that.

Reigen tsks, turning and pointing at him with the spatula, other hand on his hip. "I know you feel bad, but I'm serious. I am glad you had a good time. It really would've sucked if I went through all of that and you didn't even like the hot springs."

Serizawa looks kind of startled. "Oh. Okay." Then he looks down at his lap. "I… do think I would've enjoyed it more if…"

He doesn't finish the thought. Reigen goes back to the eggs, which are now ready to be flipped. They're a little overdone on the bottom. He turns the heat down. "We'll just have to plan another company vacation sometime, then. Maybe we'll both enjoy ourselves next time."

"That sounds like a good idea," Serizawa says back.

Reigen nabs two plates and slides the eggs out onto one before cracking four more into the pan. He doesn't break any yolks this time—a success. These can be Serizawa's.

Watching them go white, he wonders idly when the last time he'd done this was. It's been a good while since he's had anyone over to cook something for. There was Teruki that one time, but other than that…

"Thank you," Serizawa says then, much to Reigen's confusion.

"Huh?" he asks, looking up. "Uh, the eggs aren't done yet."

"No," Serizawa says and shakes his head. "I mean—for everything."

Where is this coming from? Reigen tries not to look too bewildered. "What's this about?"

Serizawa's hands find his knees again. "I just… was thinking about what you said on the train. About living for myself, and making my own choices. And… you know, I just realized that… you were saying that even after I—"

"Hey," Reigen cuts him off with a near-snap, gesturing agitatedly. "I told you that wasn't your fault!" The spatula bangs against the hood over the stove, interrupting him momentarily as he glances over to check for damage. "How many times do I have to  repeat myself?" he asks, zeroing sternly back in on Serizawa.

Serizawa looks startled first, and then kind of amused second. "Still… thank you for taking my feelings into consideration. Even after that."

Reigen huffs and crosses his arms, almost whapping himself with the spatula this time. "It's what any boss should do."

Looking like he's trying not to appear too entertained, Serizawa says, "Okay."

Reigen turns back to the eggs, deciding he's made his point clear enough, and flips them. Then he realizes he hadn't seasoned them before that. Whatever. He can season them on the underside, Serizawa can deal. So he does—and, see? It's sticking to the oil, he's fine.

"Are you okay?" Serizawa asks for what must be the thousandth time.

Reigen looks up at him again. "What?"

"You look, uh… angry. At the eggs." Serizawa points across the room at the pan, like he has to clarify visually.

"...I'm not angry at the eggs," Reigen says back. "The eggs are fine."

Serizawa's hand goes back down very slowly to rest on his thigh. "Okay."

The eggs are fine, and so is Reigen. He slides them out onto the other plate and flips the stove off, and then looks around his small kitchen. "I can make toast if you want, but I don't think I have anything to put on it."

"I'll be okay," Serizawa says.

No toast, then. He carries the plates over. "Yours will probably still be hot, so be careful with that," he says.

"Thank you," Serizawa says back.

Reigen kind of wants to point out that he says thank you a lot, but it is pretty normal to thank someone for making you breakfast, so he bites his tongue. No need to make him self conscious.

He flips the TV on, so it's not just them and the sounds of eating, and settles against the back of the couch. Serizawa stays leaned forwards, looking like he's putting all of his concentration towards not dropping anything on Reigen's crappy rug.

It strikes him very unexpectedly just how glad he is that Serizawa had stayed, weathering through all of Reigen's half-hearted attempts to send him off. He thinks he'd be a lot worse off right now if he'd woken up alone, with no one around. With just himself.

He should really thank him back. But, Reigen decides, he is still an asshole, so he won't.

Nothing else is spoken until they're both done, and Reigen plucks Serizawa's empty plate from his hands and stands. "I won't keep you here all day," he says. "I—"

"—I'll help clean up," Serizawa interrupts. Reigen looks down at him—and then Serizawa stands as well, and Reigen looks up at him. "As a thank you, for having me over," he adds.

The two of them are crammed between the coffee table and the couch now; Reigen has to crane his neck to meet his eye from this close. "Right," he says. "Let's do that, then."

He slips out, and Serizawa dutifully follows him to the sink where he deposits the plates. Then he grabs a rag that's been abandoned in the corner—he's pretty sure he'd only used it to dry his hands—and shoves it at him. "I'll wash, you dry," Reigen directs.

Serizawa takes the rag and clutches it by his chest. "Okay," he accepts, hovering a touch closer than he probably needs to. Reigen doesn't really mind, though, so he doesn't mention it. They're going to be handing dishes off to each other, anyways; it's more convenient this way.

Predictably, it takes all of one minute to clean and dry just the two plates—and then another for the pan, which Reigen had forgotten about until Serizawa pulled it over. He turns around after and leans casually against the counter, ignoring the water that seeps into the back of his shirt.

Serizawa is still holding the rag. It's over his chest again, where he's wringing it around his fingers. Reigen reaches out and gives it a gentle tug, and Serizawa releases it, looking a little bit embarrassed. He must not have realized he was doing that. "Is all your stuff together?" Reigen asks.

"Yeah," Serizawa says, "it's all in my bag." He makes no move to get it.

Reigen wants to say he isn't sure what he's lingering for, but it's pretty obvious that Serizawa's worry isn't fully assuaged yet. He stands up off the counter so he can dry it with the confiscated rag instead of his shirt and says, "I'm okay, if that's what you're waiting for."

Serizawa shuffles in place. "I was wondering if you'll still be okay after I leave," he says. "I can stay if… if you don't want to be alone."

Reigen tosses the rag aside. It crumples up in the exact same corner he'd gotten it from. "I'll be fine. Besides, you said I could call you if I'm not, remember?"

"I—yeah," Serizawa says, looking somewhat surprised. Reigen hopes it's because he willingly brought it up, and not because it was only a superficial offer. It can't have been, with Serizawa's determination to keep sticking around. "Call, or text. Whatever works better."

"I will," he lies. Maybe if it gets really dire and he exhausts all other options he'll resort to it, but he's confident that it won't come to that. "Really, you can go."

"I guess I should," Serizawa says, finally going to grab his bag. "Thanks for breakfast, and for letting me stay the night."

Reigen passes him to the door, hand resting on the knob. "Don't mention it." Serizawa joins him, and he pulls it open, leaning against it.

Serizawa looks out, and then looks back at Reigen. "Bye?" he asks, like it's a question.

"Bye," Reigen says, and then aiming for subtle reassurance, "I'll see you on Monday."

Serizawa relaxes just enough for it to be visible. "Yeah. I'll see you then."

Then he steps out. Reigen closes the door behind him and turns around, surveying his empty apartment.

Well. He was going to have to face this moment sooner or later.

It's kind of difficult to tell what's draping over him right now. It's… nothing, but a lot of it. An overwhelming lack of anything. For all of his time at work spent coaching people through these things he really has no idea what to make of it.

He decides to just forget about it—nothing is better than a bad something, right?—and stands numbly for another moment in his still empty apartment. His going-to-stay-empty apartment. His sad, devoid of life apartment.

This is really going to suck, isn't it?

He wanders over to the window, tugging the curtain aside and impassively pushing it open. It's bright outside, the sky mercifully blue. He can hear birds chirping at each other, and in the distance a horn blares, angry and distinctly human.

He'll just… have to move forwards. That's really the only choice there is, isn't there? It's not like he's going to move backwards, he thinks with a sarcastic little laugh. That would put him back on the train.

He already has moved forwards, even. Everything happened the day before yesterday—it was only one day—and he shakes his head and smothers that line of thought.

He'll tackle that hangup another time. For now, mindlessly staring out the window shall suffice. He realizes he can hear Serizawa's suitcase bouncing down the stairs. It was nice of him to stick around until morning. It'll be nice to see him again, too, on Monday.

He leans his weight onto the windowsill, and then his chin on his folded hands, closing his eyes. The outside air drifts over his skin.

Maybe he should be more open minded towards Serizawa's offer, considering how the sensation of nothing had hit him like a sack of bricks the literal second the door had shut. How did Serizawa survive living in such a stasis for so long? He feels like he's losing his mind.

He sighs, and pushes himself away from the wall. He needs a nap. A nice, rewarding, ten-in-the-morning nap. He leaves the window open; unwise, but he doesn't really care right now. Getting robbed is preferable to severing his tether to the rest of the world. He needs to know that it exists.

He tugs the curtains mostly shut, at least. They sway lazily in the breeze, and he turns, heading for bed.

A single buzz from his phone stops him before he can lay down. He grabs it, thinking that this is awfully soon for Serizawa to be contacting him—but it's not Serizawa. It's Mob, asking how he's doing this morning. The chasm inside him lessens just a fraction.

He shoots a message back, saying that he's good and had slept well, and that he hopes Mob had a good time. Mob sends him one thumbs up back. That's that, then.

He casts the phone aside once more, and sinks onto his bed, splayed atop the covering. He's not sure what he did to earn such perceptive and compassionate people in his life, but he's definitely grateful for their presence.

And his bed. He is very grateful for his bed as he drifts back out on the tides of sleep.