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There’s this cafe, a little sandwich shop, nestled in between a bookstore and a ramen place, that Mob passes every day on his way to and from school. He’s stopped at most of the storefronts at one time or another but he’s particularly fond of Olive Grove because of their milkshakes. If he has enough pocket money he’ll sometimes get an order of fries too and dip them in the sweet strawberry goodness.
The day is overcast and threatening rain when Mob pops in, hoping to wait out said rain. A waitress calls a greeting and tells him to sit wherever and Mob ducks his head, bee-lining for the spot furthest from everyone else, a seat at the end of the bar.
The kitchen here is open, just on the other side of the bar, but Mob has found most of the line cooks have zero interest in speaking to him, which is nice. He knows most of them in passing anyways since he’s been here often enough, and today when he sits he realizes that the guy working right in front of him is new. Blond, plain, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he works. He’s got this little crease between his eyebrows like he’s trying to focus that Mob finds rather endearing.
The same waitress from before comes by to take Mob’s order -strawberry milkshake, side of fries, his usual- and when Mob looks away from her he finds the new guy staring at him. The man gives Mob a big smile, lopsided and kind of goofy and Mob can’t help giving a small smile in return.
“You must be a regular if she likes you!” the guy says, nodding at the waitress, now attending a different table. “I’ve only ever seen her smile at regulars. What’s up, I’m Reigen!”
Mob gives his own name, much softer than Reigen’s near-booming voice. “But people usually call me Mob. And sort of? I come by sometimes after school.”
“Oh, where do you go? I can’t say I’ve paid enough attention to the uniforms to tell them apart from each other.”
Mob lets himself get pulled into the conversation, a little taken aback by it. Reigen is loud and enthusiastic and keeps talking even while he’s working, looking up regularly to make direct eye contact. Mob’s never had someone speak to him so…eagerly. It makes him squirm in his seat a little, his fingers ripping and balling up the paper wrapper from his straw when his order comes in.
“Fries dipped in a milkshake? You have excellent taste, Mob,” Reigen says with an approving nod. Mob finds himself smiling again.
The rain comes down in buckets and Mob sits and listens to Reigen ramble for hours until it finally ends. He finds himself relaxing the longer he’s there, enjoying Reigen’s boisterous personality and the stupid things he boasts about, the way he’s more than happy to lead the conversation yet still stops and lets Mob have room to speak. It’s nice, and Mob wonders if this is how normal people make friends. Just chat and chat until you like each other.
It becomes something of a tradition after that. Mob swings by the cafe after school a few times a week, orders his milkshake, and chats with Reigen. After a while of this Reigen even starts updating Mob about his schedule so Mob knows which days are the best to stop by.
Before long, Mob is staying right up until close just to get to spend more time with Reigen. He’s not really sure what it is about the man that draws him in. Maybe it’s how unabashedly himself Reigen is. He’s not afraid to be silly or loud or even make himself look completely ridiculous in order to get Mob to laugh. His voice rings out so loudly across the cafe that he even gets scolded at times, though he never seems upset by it, just grins conspiratorially at Mob and gives him a little wink. Like they’re in on something that nobody else knows about.
It’s all very refreshing to Mob, honestly. His usual anxieties about what people are thinking or how they perceive him all seem to fade away when he’s around Reigen. He feels almost giddy, or at least as giddy as he figures he’s capable of being. Little bright sparks of laughter and happiness sit in his chest and bring out smiles he’s never smiled before. And under all of that some kind of fluttering feeling he’s not quite sure what to name.
Eventually the rest of the staff at the cafe know Mob so well that they let him linger after close, so long as he stays out of their way. Reigen is delighted about this. His fellow line cooks seem a little dubious but Reigen proves to be just as capable of closing down his station while talking as he is at running it, so they don’t make a fuss.
Mob sits at the bar and kicks his feet while he finishes up the dregs of his milkshake, and then Reigen walks him home once he’s done.
It’s nice. Mob’s never walked home with anyone before. Reigen is tall and bright beside him, and though he still talks a lot he also falls silent sometimes and that’s nice too. Just having his warm presence right there, close enough to touch, feels really special to Mob.
One particularly humid night it’s into a moment of silence that Mob asks, “Why’d you become a line cook?”
Reigen looks down at him and grins. “To meet cute boys like you, obviously,” he says, and purposefully bumps into Mob. “Honestly I just kind of fell into it by chance, and it’s a hell of a lot more interesting than office work so I’ve stuck with it. You’re just a bonus.”
And that’s…well, something clicks into place for Mob right then.
“Are you flirting with me?” he asks, his tone much more flat than what he’s actually feeling. Though, naming the emotions swirling through him right then is nigh-impossible.
Reigen misses a step and stumbles, eyes going wide, and Mob pauses to wait for him. The man seems to fumble for a moment, gaze flicking everywhere that isn’t Mob before he finally scratches at the back of his neck and says, sheepishly, “Uh, yeah, I guess so. I mean, if it makes you uncomfortable or anything I can definitely stop. I just…” The statement goes unfinished and Mob wonders what Reigen ‘just’s.
“It’s fine,” Mob responds. “I’m not uncomfortable I don’t think.”
“Oh. Okay. That’s good then. But…you should think on it, if you’re uncomfortable or not I mean.”
“Sure,” Mob agrees, and then they fall back into step together, the only sound their shoes scraping against pavement.
They’re standing in front of Mob’s house when Mob finally asks, “Do you want to date me?”
Reigen shifts his weight, hands stuffed in his pockets, head tipped back to stare at the sky. The light pollution obscures the stars and turns inky darkness into washed out navy. “Yeah,” he finally says. “I shouldn’t, but I do. Does that make you uncomfortable?”
“I don’t know,” Mob says honestly. “But I’ll think about that too.”
“Good.”
That night in bed Mob does think about it. How does he feel about Reigen flirting with him? Reigen is an adult man after all, and Mob is in middle school. Logically Mob knows there’s something wrong with that picture. But in the grand scheme of things he’s not sure he cares about that aspect.
The next morning Mob continues to think about it on his walk to school. Then during school as well. During lunch. During gym. He’s still thinking about it when he walks to Olive Grove in the afternoon.
Reigen is clearly nervous when Mob sits down in his usual seat. He’s talking even louder than usual, and far too quickly. He pauses more often than normal and the tension between them stretches long and taught and uncomfortable. Whatever still serenity he’d found the night before, staring up at the night sky, is long gone.
And yet…Mob still feels kind of fluttery. Soft. He looks at Reigen and his slightly panicked movements and he wants to reassure the man. To make him smile and laugh, look at Mob with that fond expression he gets sometimes. Like Mob means so much to him and he’s not quite sure what to do about it.
Oh, Mob thinks. I see.
And that’s that. Now the only question is how to actually tell Reigen. As much as Mob wants to reassure him, doing it where other people might overhear them probably isn’t the best move. Underage and all that. But even that aside, Mob doesn’t know what to say or how to say it.
Does he go the childish, ‘I like like you’ route? Or something a little more formal, ‘I want to be with you’?
Even if he finds the perfect words, will Mob even be able to say them? Everything sounds so embarrassing in his mind. No wonder Reigen had tripped over his own feet and stuttered out his confession. Mob’s never considered exactly how difficult it is to tell someone you like them until now.
For nearly an hour Mob stews on the issue, his mind drifting away from Reigen no matter how hard he tries to pay attention. Reigen doesn’t seem to notice at least, lost in his own anxieties.
Closing time has just rolled around when Mob finally comes up with the perfect solution. Nobody ever said he had to confess verbally. So Mob orders a second milkshake, much to the amusement of his waitress, and bides his time.
Cleaning commences, a controlled flurry of movement around Mob. He barely notices it, instead engrossed in tapping two straws, still in their wrappers, against the countertop. They’re not exactly interesting in and of themselves, but what they mean certainly is.
How exactly does one date someone twice their age? What happens if they’re found out? Will doing this put Reigen at risk of being arrested?
But then, if Reigen didn’t think they were capable of being discrete he wouldn’t have been flirting in the first place, right? Mob certainly thinks he's capable of it. His friends are few and far between and he’s always been pretty quiet, even at home. Reigen will just be another on a long list of things he doesn’t talk about.
Reigen clearing his throat draws Mob out of his thoughts and he glances up, taking in the awkward way Reigen isn’t quite looking at him, the way he’s shifting his weight from one foot to another.
“I’m all done here!” he says, forcefully cheerful. “You ready to hit the road?”
“Not quite,” Mob replies, the fluttering in his stomach that he’d managed to quiet starting up anew.
“Oh yeah, finish your milkshake first, of course,” Reigen says.
This is it. His moment. Mob takes a deep breath and then starts unwrapping both straws. “Do you…wanna share?”
“What?” Reigen looks down at Mob for the first time, watching as Mob sticks both straws into the shake on opposite sides of the glass. Exactly like Mob has seen in all kinds of romantic movies and art. Two lovers sharing a single milkshake and staring into each others eyes while they do it. Or something. Maybe this was silly…
“Do you wanna share?” Mob asks again, pushing onwards but unsure how to get across exactly what he means by the offer. Do you still want to be with me? Did you mean what you said?
Reigen continues to stare at him, expression oddly blank. Then he gets that little furrow between his brows, the one that makes Mob want to laugh at him and maybe smooth it away with his thumbs. “Are you…?”
“Yes,” Mob says.
“You’re really offering…?”
“Yes,” Mob says again because he’s pretty sure they’re on the same page now.
“Oh. Okay.” Reigen sounds gobsmacked, a little breathy. His eyes are wide even as he leans across the counter, slowly, like he thinks Mob might bolt if he moves too quickly.
Mob moves to meet him, taking the straw closest to him between his lips. Strawberry sweetness bursts on his tongue at the same time Reigen takes his own straw. His lips purse, and he makes eye contact for the first time today.
At a brief glance Reigen’s eyes appear so dark as to be black. But this close, enough he can hear Reigen breathing through his nose, can feel the heat of his skin, Mob notices that his eyes are actually a deep, dark brown. Like mahogany or coffee.
It’s a little awkward, if Mob is honest. Sitting there staring into each other’s eyes. But it’s intimate in a way he’s never experienced too, and he thinks distantly that he’s forever going to associate the taste of strawberry with Reigen now. That he’ll see that messy blond hair and bright, goofy smile and taste summer sweetness on his tongue.
Mob is the first to pull back, and he can feel how flushed his face is. Reigen follows suit, looking just as flustered. He clears his throat loudly, then winces. “So. I’m reading this right, right? You like me back?”
“I think I have since we met,” Mob admits quietly. Because he’d felt that fluttery feeling the very first day, low and thrumming warmly in his stomach. “I just didn’t realize it until now.”
He’s startled from his thoughts of that first day when Reigen crows, “Yes!” and pumps his fist in the air. “I knew my amazingly good looks would pay off someday!”
Mob laughs despite himself, and Reigen turns that huge, lovely grin on him, making Mob squirm with sudden affection. “I think it’s more personality, but I guess you’re pretty handsome.”
“I’ll take it!” Reigen declares, still grinning. “And you’re not so bad yourself. So cute I wanna eat you up and I love that little smile you give me sometimes. Yes, that one right there! Adorable!”
Mob can feel himself flush even hotter and he swivels on his stool, shoulders hunching. He’s never been called cute before. It should probably feel emasculating or something but instead he’s just pleased.
“Aw, don’t be like that, babe,” Reigen coos, throwing an arm around Mob’s shoulders. “I speak only truth.” Then he pauses and says more seriously, “If I’m coming off too strong, let me know.”
“I will,” Mob assures him. “You’re fine. Can you walk me home now though? It’s getting late.”
Reigen pulls back, putting both hands on Mob’s shoulders and twisting him back around to face Reigen. “Sure! But first things first.” He bends at the waist, leaning in so close that Mob can feel warm breath against his lips. “Is this okay?”
Mob’s heart is pounding in his chest and his breath catches. Then he gives a tiny little nod, barely there.
Reigen tastes like strawberries. His lips are warm and slow and his hands heavy where they rest on Mob’s shoulders. It’s Mob’s first kiss and he doesn’t think it could be any better even if he had a thousand years to try.