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Reigen loved the taste of concrete.
It was best especially after he took a falling trip to the ground trying to impress Mob. That gave it one of its better tastes: shame and humility coursing through his body as he tried to laugh it off. Delicious with a gentle shake of salt and pepper. Oven baked at 350 degrees. Sweat trickled down his forehead.
A few days ago, Reigen, Mob, and Serizawa had ended up at a thrift store for one of their exorcisms (the job had been fine except for when Reigen broke, and the attempted to barter himself out of, a lamp that was far more expensive than it should have been). On the trip there, he had found an old, somewhat used skateboard that only had a few scrapes on its deck.
Reminiscing on his old memories learning how to skateboard in his youth compelled him to purchase the thing; maybe he could learn how to ride again like he used to. Any hobby that got him out of the office, since now there was too much company of Mob’s friends from school (and even Serizawa’s own friends from his school now sometimes, too), that all he needed was his own space. Practicing his skateboard riding gave him an excuse for that.
Now he had been battling with the skateboard for the few days Reigen had had it in his possession. It fought against him every time he tried to step on its back. Even if Reigen, with the grace of the gods, somehow managed to make it on, the skateboard wouldn’t budge. Its wheels wouldn’t roll him forward, and he was too nervous and unbalanced to consider pushing forward. Sometimes it would laugh at him, slipping forward until Reigen fell backwards with a yelp and ended up with more cracks on his bottom than the usual singular one.
Then it would beat him up like a gang ambush, wheels and trucks pulling left and right punches on Reigen until he could only put his hands together and pray for mercy. Even when he tried to display to Mob what he could remember from his younger days, the skateboard still wouldn’t cooperate. Mob was disinterested anyway—he much preferred the track team, or the fitness club, or running from the cops after discovering he was secretly a fraud, or whatever Mob was doing at school and preferred over Reigen’s nonexistent skateboard skills.
He was by himself in the parking lot behind the Spirit’s N Such building, watching the shadows move away from the sun’s harsh influence in the front of the building. Even in the shade, sweat streaked through his hair, dripping into his eyes. He had set his grey suit jacket on the top of the bike rack by the entrance to better cool himself off (“I won’t forget it this time,” he’d say to himself, forgetting it there for the hundredth time).
Muscle memory, c’mon, Reigen forced himself to get back up. It had to be down there, somewhere. It’s not like memory left the same brain in the same body it was inhabiting, unless you were the unlucky victim of Alzheimer’s (Ritsu wasn’t convinced Reigen didn’t have it). Perhaps the mundanity of office life had worn him down, dulled his senses. After all, if every day had been the same for years on end, there’d be no reason to remember useless things. No reason to remember a boring life like his.
In the middle of his thoughts, the door of the building opened. A broad man in a dark suit came out, peering out with uncertainty at first, before catching sight of Reigen and exited out fully as he breathed a sigh of relief.
Serizawa.
“There you are… Reigen!” Serizawa called out after him. Reigen had told him not to call him out of formalities when he was out of office—Serizawa must have supposed that being physically out of the office right behind its building had to count for that. Reigen wouldn’t fix that notion. “I was wondering where you were,” Serizawa continued with a slight smile.
Reigen froze. He didn’t want to explain himself: being caught in the middle of practicing his battle with the beast was far more embarrassing than showing off on purpose. Especially in front of Serizawa, with his dark eyes checking out the board beneath him.
”Any clients?” Reigen asked to distract him.
”None,” Serizawa replied. “What are you doing?”
”I’m practicing for championships,” Reigen stretched, pretending to be nonchalant. He gave a yawn, as though this broke no sweat off his back. Was that taking it too far?
”Championships…” Serizawa thought for a moment. “Is that true?”
”Eh… The practicing part is,” Reigen admitted. He had been trying to get better at telling the truth to the people he cared about, but it always felt like twisting out a particular tough bolt that was also far too rusty. He needed to practice in many more ways than one. “I’m not as good as I used to be… I’m no good at all,” he breathed sheepishly.
Serizawa stared at Reigen for a moment of silence, dark brown eyes gazing over him. Analyzing, as though he were the first specimen he had laid eyes on after being a shut-in for so long, and decided was his savior. But that was in the past, and it hadn’t been Reigen, of course. Reigen was just a man.
”I know. I saw you fall when you tried to show Mob,” Serizawa admitted himself, lifting his hands up to scratch nervously behind his ears. Reigen had told him that in professional settings, he needed to make sure to control his self-soothing behaviors, and only gesture a lot if he was trying to emphasize a point (or swindle a customer. Lots of movement made one‘s brain more overwhelmed and distract enough to make stupid choices). But here now, Reigen couldn’t help but feel warmth at the sight, and it wasn’t already from the warmth of the day.
Reigen shook his head, forcing those thoughts back into the caverns of his subconscious so he wouldn’t have to think about them. Serizawa was his employee and his friend. He’d think about things later.
Serizawa’s dark curls fell in front of his eyes. His hair had grown a hint longer since his last haircut, and Reigen knew he needed to cut it so Seri could maintain it properly on his own—but the curls of his hair framed his face quite nicely, and Reigen couldn’t help but feel fondness for that, too.
”You need help?” Seri asked, and stood closer to the spot where Reigen’s evil skateboard was. “Or,” Serizawa suddenly paused nervously, “Is this inappropriate behavior? Should I just watch, or—“
”This is outside of the office, Serizawa,” Reigen helpfully supplied, turning so he wouldn’t have to look in his eyes. “You can help in whatever way you want.”
Serizawa blinked. “Okay, that’s good. I’ll help you with balancing on it,” he decided, and outstretched a hand for Reigen to take.
Reigen, in all his nonchalance, took Serizawa’s hand and pretended it didn’t send a shiver of nerves all the way down to his stomach, swirling inside until he was certain there was a thunderstorm brewing in there. He swallowed, trying to pretend the being that was Serizawa wasn’t actually right next to him, and that he was just holding on to some ridges of a dumpster beside him.
A dumpster that smelled nicely of cologne that Reigen had bought for it once. A dumpster that wonderfully smiled in support beside him.
He looked down at the skateboard again. It was in a stillness before him, like the moment right before a breath was exhaled or before a wind picked up on yellow tallgrass. The dark baubles of the griptape glittered below him like magma spots, the back of the skateboard’s deck previously an enemy. Now, Reigen admired it below him, wishing to feel the smooth wheels roll on the concrete in old memory, imagining the organ machinery of bearings inside them, and deciding how sturdy the trucks would be as the board’s bones under his feet.
”You got this,” Serizawa whispered beside him in support. “I’ll hold you.”
Without looking, Reigen breathed, “Thank you,” and stepped his right foot forward on the nail beds where the trucks were embedded. He nearly slipped forward, but Serizawa’s firm hands stabilized him, and with a flush of heat, Reigen managed to put his other foot on the board.
His other foot. He was on the board!
Serizawa’s eyes widened in success. ”Do you want to go forward?” Serizawa asked eagerly, his excitement rising through. “I’ll hold you still.”
”Now, hold on a minute…” The skateboard was only behaving itself for now, but he was certain that any moment now it’d buck him off like a bull that saw the vibrant red of his hair. Yet, Serizawa began to walk forward, pulling Reigen by his hands and making it finally roll with him on it.
Reigen tried not to yelp at the sudden movement, tightening his grip on Serizawa's hands. “Watch it!” He said in a scold, but adrenaline coursed through him like a blazing inferno of hell, where Reigen would definitely be going after everybody he had scammed in his life. But Reigen let out a gleeful smile with an open mouth at the sensation of the skateboard going underneath him, feeling satisfied like he had finally conquered the beast terrorizing the town. With, of course, the help of Serizawa beside him.
The deck vibrated under the soles of his feet.
”Bend your knees a little, your position is off,” Serizawa advised, looking downward. “Put both of your feet sideways. Also, this isn’t good ground to skate on.”
Reigen tightened his grip with both of his hands in Serizawa’s own hands. “You’re a liar,” Reigen spat out with shock, ignoring the fact that Seri had never said anything about his history with skateboarding at all. “You’ve skateboarded before and didn’t tell me?!”
Serizawa shook his head sheepishly. “No, no, I’ve never skatedboarded… But I definitely learned a bit about it. I’ve played a skate game or two…”
“What other secrets do you have?” Reigen muttered, eyes still darted away from him. Serizawa seemed to stiffen beside him, as though he definitely still had some secrets in the depth of the recesses of his mind, and he certainly kept that door absolutely locked from Reigen’s intrusion. Reigen frowned. He was a prion, ready to scour and pick out half-truths from the mental shields that Serizawa put up in his mind.
“You didn’t secretly bake or host golf tournaments for that terrorist organization now did you—?”
And finally, like the crescendo of an orchestra, Mr Evil Skateboard betrayed him for a last time. Reigen lost balance, and the board slipped out backward from him as Reigen fell forward into Serizawa’s arms.
”Woah!” Serizawa jolted as he grabbed hold of him. “I got you! Um,” he swallowed, “You alright, Reigen?”
Serizawa’s sturdy, calloused hands were on both sides of Reigen’s torso, and Reigen’s brain couldn’t help but betray him now, too. He exhaled deeply as the adrenaline danced through his body like thousands of tiny gnats swarming under the sun. Reigen’s face was right in front of Serizawa’s chest too, the white button up shy under his suit jacket and tie. Reigen could smell hints of his cologne, and then his own natural smell there, too, layered underneath, like the husky smell of sawdust.
Serizawa Serizawa Serizawa.
Stupid idiot, Reigen thought, but he couldn’t tell if the thought was directed at Serizawa or himself. He needed to get out of Serizawa’s arms as quickly as possible… but his body would simply not move.
”I think that’s enough for the day,” Serizawa gave a huff alongside a smile. “You’re really tense now,” he said quietly, hands still placed on his body.
Betrayal of betrayals, his body was the ultimate contender for this battle if it and his skateboard were competing. Maybe Reigen was a parasite and his body was a host, and his host decided it wanted its own control back in the absolute worst timing possible.
But still, with the warmth of Serizawa’s palms cradling him, and the breath huffing on Reigen’s hair, Reigen felt…secure, like he was made up of the architectural structure of the metal bars in the walls of Spirits N Such. He wondered how someone, who was so wily and nervous and awkward all the time, could exhibit such stability, with firm hands that were both so strong and… gentle.
”Yeah, yeah, I hear ya,” Reigen finally managed to spurt out, jutting up his chin and jaw in the air like he didn’t care so much about the predicament as he did.
Serizawa—still with his damned hands on sides—tilted his head. “You alright? He asked again, still checking.
Reigen exhaled, as he finally regained control of his body again, back to his usual self. “You’re still holding on to me,” he pointed out suavely and nonchalantly. Maybe a voice crack slipped out or two. Maybe his voice also betrayed him as well. Whatever his mouth communicated now wasn’t his problem.
Then it was Serizawa’s turn to buffer as he realized where his hands lay. Then he was red in the face, swiftly pulling his hands back to himself. Now instead of the confident version of Serizawa, secure and checking up on his close friend with ease, his shoulders hunched forward in nervousness, withdrawn and awkward, giving a smile that expressed, ‘oh goodness I messed up didn’t I, oh shoot oh shoot oh—‘
“Don’t worry,” Reigen finally said, placing his hand on Serizawa’s shoulder. Someone had to have the confidence here, and Reigen was used to carrying that burden. “I’m not upset. Uh, it was—“ Nope, nope, he wasn’t going to say ‘lovely’, “—very helpful. Thanks for being there for me, Serizawa.”
It seemed to do the trick of easing up Seri’s nerves. His shoulders loosened, releasing his gripped fists at his side. Light shone in his eyes: pride in himself. Reigen smiled softly at that.
“You should help me out more again,” Reigen suggested, putting a finger to his chin as though it were just a random thought crossing through, when it was really all he wanted. Anything to get Serizawa to stay by his side.
Serizawa gave a small smile. “I’d love to help when I can,” he replied softly, looking at the skateboard, before looking back over into Reigen’s eyes again. It must have taken a great amount of strength to do so, because Serizawa absolutely hated to meet other people’s eyes. It made him overwhelmed, years of fear and anxiety outstretching behind him like clawing hands.
Reigen tilted his head, suddenly feeling generous. “You want to try?” He asked, jutting out his head to the skateboard.
Serizawa placed a hand behind his neck. “Maybe next time,” he said nervously. Maybe he, too, wanted to practice first without embarrassing himself in front of Reigen. Being an esper, his powers would also make it far easier for him to practice on his own. Didn’t Serizawa know that it was his shy uncertainty that made him the man Reigen felt fondness for? But, when Serizawa was serious and confident in his decisions, curses, he was attractive then, too. An attractive, caring man in his vicinity? It was no wonder Reigen could barely contain himself all the time.
The exit door of the building opened again. This time, it was Mob who came out, a small flat smile on his face. He seemed in a decent mood.
“There’s a client, Master,” Mob told the two of them. His bangs covered the top of his eyes, making it hard to discern his true expression all the time . Then again, showing off his forehead probably wouldn’t have helped either.
Serizawa must have jolted at being caught so close to Master, because the skateboard seemed to fly absolutely all the way to the other end of the parking lot.
Reigen sighed at Mob’s intrusion, but called out, “Alrighty, I’ll be there in a sec!”
Mob left, and Reigen looked far off miserably to the other end of the lot where the skateboard rested. It seemed to stick out its tongue, wiggling its wheels antagonistically as though making fun of him. He didn’t want to walk all the way over there just to pick it up again.
Seri seemed to notice. With a hue of hollow purple, the skateboard succumbed to him and flew back over to the both of them.
Watching the sight beside Serizawa, Reigen huffed, “It likes you better than me.” He watched it float back to the two of them. Seri had been getting more confident in using his powers, learning how to skillfully hone in on what he was doing. “Well, ready to go back inside?” Reigen asked him.
Serizawa looked around. “Where do I put this?”
Reigen hesitated, shrugging as he began to walk with a swagger back to the door. He grabbed his suit jacket again, trying not to look forgetful in front of Serizawa. “Usually I leave it out here and hope that no one puts it in the dumpster.”
Seri frowned, and gave it a long thought. “That’s no good,” he said quietly. Then, with a swift flick of his wrist, he pulled out his orange tie from his throat and with his esper powers, fasted the trucks to the bike rack beside the door.
“There,” he said with a satisfied hum. “I tied it down to the bike rack for you, so now no one’s going to consider throwing it away,“ he smiled at Reigen. Reigen didn’t have the heart to tell him that fabric wouldn’t serve as a proper lock, but he appreciated the sentiment.
“Thank you, Seri,” he said gently, placing a hand in his pocket so as to feel less sheepish. “You’re a very supportive man, Serizawa.”
Serizawa beamed. “Well… It’s all thanks to you,” he responded in earnest. “You’ve helped me come out of my shell a lot.”
“No need to get sappy now,” Reigen waggled a finger out and waved his hand dismissively, but he looked back behind him with a reassuring smile.
Serizawa smiled back. “I’m right behind you,” he said.
Reigen closed his eyes, turning to face the door.
I know you are.