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“Hey, Mob!”
Their morning run had started out misty. It was cool and damp and gave Mob and Musashi the motivation to keep moving. They never talked much when they ran, simply focusing on breathing and keep up with each other. Musashi tended to run ahead of Mob, but only by a little bit, making sure to keep an eye on him. Mob was always determined to stay close behind or by his side. Looking back at their middle school days, it was kind of silly to think about all those times Mob had passed out on their runs. He was much more fit now, even if he still had a few pounds on him. Musashi assured him that was healthy.
Usually, morning runs lasted for an hour, and on the way back they’d walk the last quarter mile home. Today was a little different. Mob had been on the recovery from a cold, and had been having a hard time breathing. They walked the rest of the way home, though Mob made sure to make it a brisk walk (which he usually had to do to keep up with Musashi anyway).
“Mob?”
The mist was gone now. The sun was shining through clouds. Today would be good for working around the farm. Perhaps someone from town would ask Mob to come in to help with a spirit problem. He doubted it, but he was glad to help where he could.
He blinked in the light of the sky and the dark of the road.
He blinked again.
He needed to feed the cats today. Kenta and Yuki and Geri and all the others needed it, especially after a storm. He’d been relieved when he finally managed to find all of the cats again after all that rain and lightning. It had taken a few days to check off his mental list of them. His finger twitched involuntarily. He remembered Musashi play-scolding him when he caught Mob giving them some sardines as a treat once.
“ You’re only encouraging them to break into our house!” He’d said. “ Soon enough our farm is going to turn into a cat farm.” He’d laughed.
Mob liked Musashi’s laugh.
At first his laugh had always caught him off-guard. It was so loud and sudden and full of energy and strength. Now it enveloped him, encouraged him, made him smile a good smile.
Musashi wasn’t laughing right now.
Musashi was looking back at him. They were on the road. Something…
Something smelled bad.
“...Mob?”
The road was blurry and gray and… right across the road from him…
His finger twitched again.
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No. Wait. No? This wasn’t right. He needed to go home. With Musashi. He needed to help him around the farm today. He needed to go. He needed to feed the cats. He needed to water the garden. He needed to feed the animals. He needed to call Ritsu. He needed to be there. He needed to help. He needed to go home. Home. With. Musashi. With… Musashi? Blink. No. No.
He needed to feed the cats. And stop staring at the road.
“Mob.”
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Twitch-twitch. His finger wouldn’t stop twitching. Why did it feel like he was under water? It was sunny and slowly heating up. Why would he be under water? It didn’t make sense. His legs were stuck in place, heavy, heavy . What was the noise? That constant thrum in his ears? Why were there drums out here? Who was drumming so fast? And why did it feel like his throat was burning?
He blinked. It was unmistakeable. The fur. The… form.
Wrong. No. Stop.
There was a hand on his arm. A big hand. The world seemed to hiccup around him.
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No.
No. Not again. He couldn’t do this again.
A shrill noise followed a softer one. The cat was gone. Everything was screaming at him. The world, the road, the sky, the shadow, the light, the sound, the smell, the touch–
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“Mob. It’s okay.” The touch was speaking to him, a distant, soft, low voice. “ It’s okay. It’s me, Musashi, everything’s going to be alright.”
Blink once. Twice.
“ Breathe, Mob. I’m here. You’re safe. Shh…”
A shaky breath. He smelled sweat. Another breath. It burned to breathe. He smelled flowers and hay and something familiar. Gravity seemed to be increasing and he let it take him. He didn’t have any strength for some reason. All he saw was the sky. It was bright and warm and the clouds were sparse. He took a breath, short and shallow.
0%
Sometimes Musashi forgot. Forgot about the whole… psychic thing. Mob didn’t rely on them and only used them when he needed to. Musashi was grateful for the countless times Mob had prevented minor injuries around the farm using his powers. He was fascinated by the way it felt to suddenly not have to obey gravity anymore. All that said, to him, Mob was just a regular guy. For the most part.
So, when Shigeo had stopped walking, he hadn’t thought anything of it. He was getting over a cold and pushing himself. He could respect that. Of course he’d need to pause for breath. But when he looked closer, when Mob wasn’t responding to him, he realized that… he wasn’t breathing. All he as doing was staring. Staring and standing and staring.
Fresh roadkill. Looked like a possum. But to Mob…?
The air was electric and a spike of fear stabbed Musashi’s heart. Rubble wobbled in the air around Mob’s feet. A power beyond Musashi’s comprehension seemed to be throbbing in the air, muting all sound and sensation. Musashi took a few steps forward, trying to stay in Mob’s line of sight. He wasn’t looking at him and he wasn’t breathing. He wasn’t. Breathing. He knew panicking was the last thing he should do, but he was getting pretty close. He had to help. He had to do something. But what could he do?
More rubble picked up and Mob’s feet weren’t on the road anymore. The road was, for lack of a better word, dissolving around the animal corpse.
This wasn’t right. This wasn’t Mob. Not the Mob he knew.
Closer. He had to get closer to him. He had to… he had to… uh… what the hell was he supposed to do? He couldn’t just tell him to stop. Obviously Mob couldn’t (wouldn’t?) hear him. He had to bring him back. He had to remind him where he was. He didn’t know how or why that was what he was supposed to do, but it made sense at the time.
He reached out to him. He felt helpless, weightless, scared, terrified. His heart was pumping in his ears. His hand missed Mob’s shoulder. Again. Again. He kept drifting out of reach, an energy pushing against him like the opposite of a magnet.
Everything flipped upside down when his hand made contact. He wouldn’t let go. He couldn’t let go. He pulled with all his might, drawing the still not breathing being closer. He barely heard his own words leaving his throat. He tasted copper in the air, felt rubble hitting his back.
And then it was over. He was holding Mob close to his chest. Tears were streaming down his face– when had that happened? Breathing. Mob was breathing again. His eyes were wide open, staring at the sky, mouth slightly agape. Musashi couldn’t stop saying his name, trying to soothe and comfort but to himself he sounded like he was holding onto dear life.
The walk home was more of a run.
An empty room… no, it wasn’t empty. It was his room. Mob’s room. A humble living space that needed to be tidied up soon. When was the last time they’d cleaned the house? Musashi… where was Musashi? Mob blinked. Why was he so afraid to look around? Mob blinked again. But wait… the room wasn’t empty. He could hear quiet breathing nearby. There was a warmth in the air that felt good. He let out a shaky breath.
Tired. And thirsty. He needed some water.
His legs hung over the edge of the bed. Sitting now. What time was it? Sun rippled through the open window, casting a golden shine on everything it touched. He stared at his hand for a second, the sun reflecting off of it in strange ways.
Right. Water. He had a goal.
He glanced at Musashi, asleep in bed, before leaving to the kitchen. He didn’t want to disturb him, so he tried to be as quiet as possible.
His glass was full when he remembered just why he was so tired, and why he was in bed and why he was so thirsty. He stared at his glass for a long time, not really sure what to think. Mostly, he felt… embarrassed? It felt like rocks were forming in his gut and he really hoped he wasn’t about to puke. He took a deep breath. A sip of water too.
There are things Musashi didn’t know about Mob. Sure, they knew a lot about each other, and they would never dream of lying to each other. They’ve shared deep, intimate conversations about their pasts and their dreams and their fears and their thoughts. Mob remembered comforting Musashi after he confessed that, yeah, he deals with body image, he’s insecure about how he looks and how he acts. Mob remembered telling him through broken sobs that he’s afraid of being hurt, afraid of hurting others, afraid of his powers. But they’ve always helped each other through their difficulties and their issues, even if they weren’t fixed in the end.
All that said, Mob never brought up those silent, secret, secluded six months.
For one, he thought he was over it. It was a long time ago. It wasn’t real– it hadn’t happened. The only people who knew about it were Reigen, Dimple, and Ritsu. He hadn’t even told his own parents after the fact. He didn’t want them to worry. He didn’t want anyone to worry about him. He was fine.
But now, standing in the kitchen, staring at his wobbly reflection in the water, he thought that maybe… maybe he wasn’t fine. Maybe he would never be ‘fine’ again.
That thought scared him. Really, really scared him. But he pushed that down, taking another sip of water.
There was a rustle and movement in the house and a few moment later Musashi rushed in, looking a little panicked. Oh. Musashi was worried about him. Mob forced a small smile on his lips, hoping to show him that he shouldn’t be worried about him. It felt like a more pained expression, though Mob wasn’t really sure how it was coming off.
“Um. Hi–”
Oh. Musashi had him in a big bear hug, Mob nearly dropping his glass in surprise.
“Oh thank god you’re alright. Y–” He pulled back a little to look at him. “You are alright, right?” His hand was on his cheek now. “I wasn’t sure what to do with you when you fainted so I-I just brought you back here and called Ritsu, he, uh, what did he say again? He said you needed to rest, that you would be awake again soon and– oh my god I was so worried you weren’t going to wake up again …” He was looking at him with those fiery eyes of his, tears pooling and shiny.
“I’m…” Mob wasn’t fine. “...sorry.”
He wasn’t crying, but Musashi held him close as if he was, his chin on Mob’s head. Mob hugged him back, holding him tight as if he were a lifeline. Musashi was telling him there was nothing to be sorry for, that some things were beyond either of their control… and that he was there if he wanted to talk about it. Mob didn’t want to talk about it, but he knew he should. He didn’t know how to start. He felt the bandages on Musashi’s back and felt like he was going to be sick. He had done this. He had hurt Musashi.
“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry…”
Musashi listened. He listened to every word Mob said, every detail that crushed his heart and made him fume and made him want to cry again. He listened to Mob’s heart, listened to how he breathed, listened to his words. He listened . Every time Mob’s voice trailed off, he waited and watched as Mob looked out the window, searching for the right words.
Finally, Mob was done talking, staring down at his hands.
It was silent between them for a very long time.
Musashi was still trying to process all of this. Six months. Six months of hell.
Mob was stronger than he thought, but that didn’t make it right.
He took Mob’s hands in his own, wondering what on earth he could say, what he could do to make everything better. He furrowed his brow, staring at their hands. There was a sudden clarity in Musashi’s mind all of a sudden.
“Thank you.”
“...Eh?”
Musashi held his hands tighter, smiling a sad little smile at Mob. “Thank you for telling me. Thank you for trusting me. With this.” He took a deep breath. “I’m not sure if or how or… I don’t know. I want to help you. Whatever happens, just… know I’ll be there for you. Okay?”
Mob nodded.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”