Work Text:
There are days where Serizawa finds that life is almost easy. Where leaving the house doesn’t feel like the most terrifying thing in the world, where interacting with clients at work feels like nothing, where a smile comes easily and the itch for his umbrella is almost unnoticeable. Days where Serizawa feels like he could be normal, like the past eighteen years were nothing but a bad dream.
Today was not one of those days. Today, his suit felt like a prison. Every step into the gray, chilly weather made him almost wonder if carrying an umbrella again could be seen as being prepared for the rain, rather than a way to protect the world from himself. He flinches when someone comes too close to him on the train, almost afraid his powers will lash out despite having them under control for so long. He can’t bring himself to go into the store to grab breakfast, a nearly constant routine he’s made for himself.
On days like this, Serizawa wonders if he’s worth it. If all the work that Reigen and Mob and the others have put into him has been worth any of the trouble, if he still finds himself this close to falling apart more often than anyone should.
But on his first day of work, in the brief moment between Shigeo leaving the office and returning with dinner for the group, Reigen pulled him aside and made one simple request.
“I know this is probably difficult,” he said, placing a hand on Serizawa’s shoulder (and Serizawa is sure that Reigen can feel the trembling he hasn’t been able to control since he arrived), “But I hope you’ll keep trying. Even when it gets hard. Reintegrating into society isn’t a small thing, and showing up today was a huge step. Now you just gotta keep it up. Think you’re up for that?”
In the moment, all Serizawa could do was nod, hoping that would be enough. That, and show up to work the next day. And the day after that. Until the walk became less nauseating, and the sun stopped feeling like exposure and more like warmth, and the shaking turned to nothing but a slight jumpiness that could be remedied by a supportive word and a few deep breaths. Even with the bad days, it felt like progress.
Today, though, as he dragged himself up the stairs to the Spirits & Such office, he couldn’t help but think that for once it may have been better to stay at home. He squashes the thought instantly. He can’t go back to who he was, and if that meant a bit of discomfort, it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle, right?
Except he was pretty sure that Reigen could sense the anxiety radiating off of him from a mile away, even with his aura reigned in as tight as it would go (thought that was probably a sign in and of itself). If that wasn’t obvious enough, then the three broken tea cups in the trash should’ve been some indication that something was wrong. Despite that, Serizawa didn’t notice any difference in his boss’ demeanor. They didn’t have any in house appointments that day, so for the most part Serizawa spent the morning attempting and failing to focus on his homework while Reigen muttered to himself at his desk while attempting some “digital exorcisms”. They didn’t speak outside of the occasional reminder of the time, or a quiet note about the weather. Outside, the skies continued to darken, a sign of impending rain that would put a damper on their out of office appointment they had for the afternoon. Maybe his umbrella really would have come in handy. Or maybe it would’ve made things worse. It wasn’t like it was there to protect him from the rain, and he’d been caught outside without it plenty of times since he started living his own life, but today the idea of being soaked to the bone and trying to maintain some illusion of stability felt like an impossible task.
Nevertheless, when Reigen stood up and cracked his back, an announcement that it was time to head across town, Serizawa stood up from his work without comment and followed. At least going with Reigen meant the silence would be filled, and that as they traveled to their location in one of the rougher neighborhoods in Seasoning City, he wouldn’t be expected to do anything but nod along.
“Ugh, I really hope this goes quick,” Reigen mutters on the train, surprisingly empty for the middle of the day. “That office is NOT big enough to handle the humidity that two grown men drenched in rain brings, I’ll tell you that much.” His free hand gets to gesturing as he launches into a story about he and Mob leaving a window open on a particularly rainy weekend and coming back to mushrooms under his chair, and Serizawa watches the movement instead of Reigen’s face, counting the twirls of his hand and nodding along when he remembers to.
Sometimes, he wonders what it would be like to be Reigen. To be so unrestrained with your body, to speak without thinking, to exude a confidence unparalleled by anyone surrounding you. How does it come that easily to him? What kind of work would it take to achieve that level of social success? There’s a part of him that questions if it’s achievable at all. Though by his third time in the office Serizawa was fairly certain Reigen wasn’t an esper, he wasn’t entirely sold that the man didn’t have some other form of superhuman ability. What other explanation could there be for the way he’s able to change other’s lives with his actions and words alone? No other regular person Serizawa’d met after leaving Claw had the effect on him that Reigen had. Frankly, if it weren’t for him, he was sure that the disbandment of that terrorist organization would’ve led him to either prison or his childhood bedroom. Either option was a death sentence. Neither one was realized. All it took was a few words from a blond in an ill-fitting gray suit and the kindness of his middle school student to pull him from that hell and into a life more fulfilling than he could’ve ever imagined. That had to mean something, didn’t it?
And yet Serizawa took that kindness, that gift, and did nothing but continue to fail. He still slipped up. Even on good days, he said the wrong thing, slipped up with his powers, and managed to generally make a fool of himself. How could he come to work in a state like this and be proud of himself? How could he be proud of himself at all?
His spiraling thoughts never ceased. Not as he followed Reigen off of the train, eyes still following his hands as he continued a story Serizawa stopped listening to a while ago. Not as they walked along the cracked pavement of the faded neighborhood they found themselves in, somehow managing to avoid tripping in any of the larger holes. Even when they got there, Serizawa remained a silent presence as the older woman repeated the details of the exorcism she needed done (a ghost flickering the light in her bathroom, a problem solved with a simple changing of her lightbulb and a note that she should call an electrician to see if her wiring was still good).
It wasn’t until the first drops of rain began to fall that Serizawa was snapped out of his thoughts, the simultaneous splash of water on his forehead and groan from Reigen causing him to flinch harder than what seemed socially acceptable. The other didn’t notice, facing away from him as he covered his eyes with his hand, irritation clear in his voice as the rain rapidly began its onslaught.
“At this rate we’ll be soaked before we’re halfway to the train station,” He said with a sigh.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Serizawa said, not sure if he should be apologizing but unsure of what else to do.
“What? Why?” Reigen asked, before quickly brushing off the question. He slipped off his jacket and held it above his head in an attempt to keep his hair dry. “Actually? Nevermind. Come on.” And with that, he turned around, heading a completely new direction.
“Where are we going?” Serizawa asked, following en suite with his suit jacket as he followed closely behind.
“My place. I live pretty close by. We probably won’t get too many clients if it starts downpouring, so I figure we can wait it out there. That good with you?”
“Y-Your apartment? Reigen, I wouldn’t want to impo-” Serizawa started, only to be interrupted by a crack of thunder that seemed to mark the beginning of what would be a pretty fierce storm.
“Just come on,” Reigen said, continuing his trek ahead of the older man. Serizawa followed, if for no other reason than not wanting to argue with his employer.
Reigen wasn’t lying about his apartment being close. It takes them all of two minutes to arrive at his complex, though that’s just long enough for them to be soaked to the bone as they walk up the steps, wringing out jackets over the balcony.
“Guess that was a waste, huh,” Reigen muttered over, hardly heard over the volume of the rain. Serizawa shrugged, getting the majority of the water over his jacket before hanging it over his arm.
It’s odd, being here. Despite being on his own for more than a few months, having friends from night school, even just meeting people out and about, Serizawa has never visited another person’s apartment. It seemed like something a bit too intimate for any of the friendships he’s made outside of work. And though Reigen and Mob are two of his closest friends, there’s no good reason for him to visit a middle schooler’s house. As for Reigen, well…
If Serizawa looked through the facts of his relationship with his boss, he would at least say that they were friends. They joined each other for dinner after most shifts. They talked about things other than business in the office in a way that felt much friendlier than coworkers. When he gave himself a moment to really take in the actions of the other, he couldn’t help but notice the way Reigen’s shoulders relaxed when a client left the office, the way his customer service voice fell off into something a bit more friendly when they spoke. It didn’t have the same tone he brought to Mob, the tone of a mentor teaching his student valuable life lessons, almost like an older brother. Nor did it sound like the tone he took with Teru, who frequented the office more than he expected and who Reigen almost seemed to lecture like a son. The way Reigen spoke to Serizawa felt more like… If he had to be honest, the way that one adult would talk to another. Like they were equals, friends, two people who met under regular circumstances and could be easy together without worry. So, in theory, it made perfect sense that Reigen would be alright with Serizawa coming into his home despite there being no preparation. And still, the invitation felt more like an obligation on his employer’s behalf and less like something he should accept so easily.
“Reigen-san, you really don’t have to have me over,” he started, burying his hands in his jacket to hide their wringing. “I can head back to the office if you’d like. I’m already soaked as is, and I don’t want to-”
“Serizawa.” Reigen turns to him, frowning. “It’s rude to reject an invitation, especially from your boss. Besides, I’d rather have you getting my apartment wet than the office. Let’s just go inside before one of us catches a cold,” he says, before fishing his keys out of his pocket and unlocking the door. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s drenched in rainwater, or maybe it’s the fact that they’re coming off a pretty long week, but at this moment Reigen seems to lack his usual vigor. It’s odd. Not entirely unpleasant, but different. Despite his misgivings, he doesn’t push the issue any further. Instead, he follows Reigen as he opens the door and steps to the side, making room for the older man as he slips off his shoes.
Reigen’s apartment isn’t exactly what Serizawa expected. Though the office was pretty sparse in regards to decorations, it was understandable. With the volume of Reigen’s personality, it made sense that you’d want the space encasing it to be dimmer in order to make him stand out more. Not only that, but for clients who often came in running pretty high emotionally, the neutrality of the office provided them a bit of peace. Serizawa had to admit that when he first started coming in, the almost clinical yet spiritual energy it had put his mind at ease after years of living in odd, overstimulating and understimulating environments. He never anticipated that his boss’ apartment would follow that same style. Yet when he looked around the space, he found that there wasn’t much to take in. A small kitchenette with a two burner stovetop, a couch, a tv, his desk, a water cooler(?), and a bed. A few plants here and there, which seemed well taken care of, seemed to be the main decorations of the room. The smell of take out and stale cigarettes sat heavy in the room, not oppressive but notable. He didn’t remember ever seeing Reigen smoke. Maybe it was something leftover from the last tenant.
“Sorry about the mess,” Reigen said, lining up his shoes against the wall next to the door before walking further in, flicking on a lamp that cast the room in warm yellow glow. “Just make yourself comfortable alright? You want some tea? Something to eat?” Serizawa watches as Reigen snags a few empty cans of soda off of his coffee table, slipping a few magazines underneath before heading off to what must be the recycling bin. He turns back to Serizawa after a moment, who is frozen in the doorway, before walking back over and closing the door behind him. “Come on, don’t be shy!”
“R-Right,” He said, quickly taking off his shoes and setting them next to Reigen’s. He walked into the apartment as Reigen turned back to the kitchen, digging around before pulling out an electric kettle and a pan.
“Tea first, right? Damn, it’s chilly in here. Wanna crank the heat? Thermostat is right next to the door,” he asked as he filled the kettle. “We should probably change or something. I don’t know if I’d have anything that would fit you though… Just go sit down when you’re done and I’ll have a look.”
Serizawa lets his words wash over him as he looks around, zoning in on the thermostat and turning it up a couple notches before walking over to the living area. He pauses at the couch for a moment, then elects to sit on the floor rather than soak Reigen’s couch. The carpet isn’t the most comfortable, but it’s better than nothing, and as he lowers himself to the ground and leans the upholstery, he catches a sliver of the storming sky from behind Reigen’s curtains.
When Serizawa was in his room, he kept the blinds drawn at all times. At first, it was to be sure that no one his age would see him hiding out. As he grew more accustomed to the darkness, he found it more comfortable to keep them closed, rather than to readjust to the light. He’d lose track of the seasons, only keeping track of the date through video game releases and the availability of his online friends. It took a few years, but eventually he’d forgotten what the seasons felt like.
There were some days, though, when his curiosity got the better of him. More often than not, it came on days where the house shook with thunder, light flashing from the edge of his curtains, a reminder of a world outside that could become dark and violent if he let himself live freely. On days like that, he’d crack his curtain open and sit there for hours, watching as winds and rain tore branches off of trees, knocked over trash cans, wreaked havoc on people unlucky enough to be caught in the streets. He did not count himself lucky that he’d escaped the carnage. In fact, if he had it his way, he’d go outside and lay on the pavement, waiting for his turn to be struck by lightning. Maybe then he’d be shocked into being something regular. Or maybe he’d die, and the world wouldn’t have to worry about the consequences of his own internal storm. Those days he was grateful for the lock on his door, the solitude of his bedroom, the lack of companionship that other days left him aching for anything close to a hug.
Today, a storm means something different. Today, the rain marks a new experience. Today, instead of watching from the darkness of a bedroom he was sure he would never escape, he sits drying off on the floor of a friend. Warmth slowly seeps into his skin as the furnace does its job, and he reveals in the change of temperature that he hasn’t felt for so long. The glow of the lamp casts soft shadows around the room, cozy and gentle, marking spots where things were broken in, lived on. Irrelevant chatter fills every nook and cranny, the sound of someone alive and warm and breathing and near him, unafraid of the damage he could cause, of someone who chose to have him here.
The smell of takeout being warmed on the stove creates an entirely new sensation, and suddenly Serizawa is both there and home, and his mom was warming up dinner for him, and he’s just come home from a friend’s house where the rain started as he was getting on his bike. He’s eight years old and toweling off at the front door, and his mom is scolding him for signing himself up for a cold (only there’s a humor in her voice that betrays her amusement), and he’s about to put on his coziest sweater and demolish some leftovers before hoping on his game console and spending the rest of the night in. This hits him with a sense of melancholy that almost makes him cry, and while he’s able to blink back tears before they fall this doesn’t go unnoticed by Reigen, who is now walking over balancing two bowls of pork fried rice with fried eggs and two cups of tea.
“Here,” he says, handing Serizawa his share before plopping down on the floor next to him, leaning against the couch with a sigh. “Figured you might be hungry.” He doesn’t say anything else afterwards. Just digs into his food in that ridiculous way he always does, like he hasn’t eaten in a week. It’s better that way, or at least Serizawa thinks so. He isn’t sure he’s ready to talk about the emotions roiling just below the surface. He takes a bite of his own food instead, and even though they’re leftovers it may be the most delicious meal Serizawa has ever eaten. Maybe it’s just the chef.
“Thank you, Reigen-san,” He says softly, not looking over at the blond.
“You can call me Arataka, if you want,” Reigen says after a moment, not looking at Serizawa either. “We don’t need to be so formal. If that’s alright with you, that is.” And it’s a shock, of course. But somehow, just that offer loosens the last few knots in Serizawa’s chest, and he lets out a silent breath before sipping his tea and nodding.
“Then you can call me Katsuya, if you’d like.” He offers in a rare moment of confidence. He swears he hears Reigen choke on his rice, and if he looked close enough he could be convinced that a blush spread across Reigen’s face, though it could just be the lighting.
“Katsuya, then,” Reigen says after a moment, and it makes Serizawa’s heart skip a beat.
“Arataka,” he breathes, then buries his face in his rice. And the silence becomes comfortable. And though the melancholy of what could’ve been does not dissipate, the rain now is not the rain then. What a relief it is, to get drenched and know that he has people who will see to it that he dries, even when all he wants to do is drown.
(They do not return to the office that day, even though the rain clears after an hour. Serizawa discovers that Reigen has awful taste in movies, and Reigen discovers that Serizawa really does make the best tea in the office. They share dinners once a week from now on.)