For the hurt/comfort prompt: how would reigen react when mob tells him about being stuck in the reality mogami made?
(thank you for the prompt !!! This was a bit hard to write so I’m sorry if it’s out of character, but I did my best !! Thank you! <3)
“… Six months?”
He can barely speak the words, and once they’re out he wishes he could snatch them right back. He wishes he could trade them in for something else, anything else, something that might be more encouraging. Something that might be more comforting. Anything.
But the words are out there and Mob shifts a little in his seat, fiddling with his hands in his lap, shoulders rounded and posture tight as a bowstring drawn back too far.
He nods stiffly. And Reigen’s world falls to pieces.
“Mob, I–” The words get stuck in his throat this time, guilt and horror forming a lump there that he can’t swallow down or ignore. Now that he knows, it all makes sense. Why Mob never wanted to talk about what happened when he was inside Asagiri’s head. Why he was so quiet on the train ride back home. Why he’d asked for the day off.
In hindsight, it makes sense. Too much sense, actually.
“Mob, I–why didn’t you tell me befo–” His voice breaks when he doesn’t want it to. He takes a breath, steadies himself. Reminds himself that this isn’t about him. “Mob–I’m–”
Mob gets to his feet unexpectedly, stool scraping the floor as he pushes it back. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice wavering. “I’ve upset you, I–I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything, I shouldn’t–I’ll–I-I’ll go now, I’m sorry–”
When it comes to Mob, “subtle” is the norm. But right now, he’s anything but subtle. His hands noticeably shake, there’s no hiding the tremble in his voice or in his shoulders, and he won’t look Reigen in the eyes, not even after he’s bowed stiffly and turned to show himself out.
Turned to show himself–
“Mob, no, don’t.”
Reigen leaps to his feet in a body that doesn’t feel like his own, and before he knows what he’s doing he’s rounded his desk and is across the room. Mob hasn’t moved a step since Reigen called his name, but he doesn’t turn around.
Reigen forces himself to take a breath and lets it out slowly, forcing himself to remain calm. He’ll have time to deal with himself later. Right now, what really matters…
“Mob–Shigeo–please. Look at me.”
Mob doesn’t move for the longest of moments, but then he does, turning slowly to face him without raising his head. When Reigen reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder, Mob flinches reflexively, and the lump in his throat begins to choke him.
One day would have been enough. One hour would have been enough. Hell, even one minute would have been enough. Too much.
But six months. Six months.
“Don’t apologize for what happened to you,” Reigen says, squeezing Mob’s shoulder. “Don’t apologize for telling me. I’m not upset with you, I promise. I’m glad you told me, I’m–” There’s that feeling again, that inadequacy. Because he can’t do more. “God, Shigeo, I–”
Mob makes a small, quiet sound in the back of his throat. A choked, strangled something, and that’s the last straw. Reigen tugs him carefully, and when he doesn’t flinch or pull away, he draws Mob to him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and holding him close. Mob’s response is immediate, and his arms around Reigen are tight. Desperate Like there’s nothing else that matters more than holding on and never letting go.
Truth be told, Reigen feels the same way.
When Mob begins to cry, Reigen holds him closer and squeezes his eyes shut in a last attempt to compose himself. He can sort through his own jumbled thoughts and feelings later; right now, Mob comes first.
wanted to write a lil something so here’s some fluffy queerplatonic serirei!!
(Read on AO3)
Sometimes it’s as simple as being tired after a long day and coming home knowing he won't be spending the evening alone on the couch, mindlessly watching TV, or better yet, hour after hour on social media, chasing away whatever thought he could and then some. It made for an exhausting night and he never went to bed or woke up fulfilled.
Things are different, now.
He walks through the door of the apartment, sighing in relief as he kicks off his shoes and tosses his coat at the hanger by the entryway. He misses quite appallingly and has to bend down and hang it up properly, but it's only a minor inconvenience.
“Arataka? That you?”
“Yeah,” Reigen calls back, starting into the living room. He can hear Serizawa bustling about in the kitchen. “I'm gonna shower real quick, I'll catch up with you after.”
“Alright!” Serizawa answers chipperly. His enthusiasm isn't annoying, it never is; if anything, it comes as a breath of relief after a long, painstaking day. It helps Reigen keep his head up.
He grabs a T-shirt and pair of sweats from the closet before heading into the hall bathroom to shower. There's no doubt in his mind that dinner will be ready soon. He should hurry.
Reigen knows how to cook, but very rarely can he find the time in his busy schedule to actually prepare anything. He knows he's better off grabbing something cheap from a restaurant on his way to work; he doesn't have to worry about groceries rotting in the fridge that way, either.
Serizawa didn't know how to cook until Reigen taught him. It was a fun day; they wound up in a food war of sorts, except they'd been baking and their ammunition was limited to flour, sugar, and most noticeably, a few unfortunate eggs. They drew the line after three eggs were Tragically lost to the war, but nothing else was sacred. They went through an entire bag of flour as well as the entirety of their hot water through several failed showers that never completely got the job done.
Anyway.
Reigen sighs and flops facedown on the couch, relieved to be off his feet. He doesn't think he's ever ached this badly before in his entire life. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this spent, either. God, what a day. He really could just sink into the couch cushions and stay there forever.
He didn't realize just how close he'd come to falling asleep until the cool, gentle touch of a familiar hand to the back of his neck pulls him out of it. He murmurs a quiet something--he's not even sure what it was supposed to be himself--but somehow Serizawa understands, like he always does. He laughs softly.
“Long day, huh.”
Reigen nods stiffly, eyes shut, relishing in Serizawa's gentle touch as his hand drifts from his neck to his back, applying careful, measured pressure there.
“Wanna talk about it?”
Reigen groans. “Not particularly. Just a lot of inconveniences. Lotta running around. Lotta backtracking. Lotta questioning my sanity.”
Serizawa laughs again and Reigen feels pride in being the one to draw that out of him. “Sorry, ‘taka. Sounds rough.”
“Oh you shoulda met the clients, you would've hated them. They were so self-righteous. It was like they hired me just so they could lecture me about my business and how I was doing it wrong. Pretty intent on showing off their silverware collection, too. Who brags about forks? Oh my god.”
Serizawa sits on the edge of the couch with him, hand never leaving his back. “‘Higher than thou’ kind of people?”
“Hnng, somethin' like that. I’m tired, I dunno. But they were jerks, you wouldn’t believe it. And then the busses never went as far as the clients’ houses, so there was a lot of walking, and then...”
Whether or not he’d meant to, he’s rambling now, and Serizawa sits with him patiently and listens to every word.
Reigen didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until he wakes up in bed with no memory of how he got there, the room dark and Serizawa’s hand still tracing his spine, only this time they’re both lying down with a blanket over them and Serizawa’s chin rests atop his head.
He recalls, faintly, that they hadn’t eaten dinner (unless Serizawa did and he just doesn’t know), but honestly, he’s more tired than he is hungry, and he definitely isn’t hungry enough to disturb this comfort. He’s never had something like this before meeting Serizawa and he isn’t going to screw it up.
Whether or not Serizawa knows he’s awake goes unanswered, and in the end, Reigen is quick to fall asleep again.
Evenings will typically go something like this. Talking about their days, eating dinner, going to bed content. It’d seem like such a small thing, perhaps, to those “higher than thou” folk earlier who bashed Reigen for the kind of business he ran, for his “shabby attire,” for his personality.
But in a way it’s kinda sad, because people like that will never find such joy and rest and peace in quiet moments like this, so small but, in the scheme of things, so precious. It really is just as simple as having someone to talk to who will listen. It really is just as simple as coming home with the knowledge that he won’t be alone. And he loves Serizawa, and Serizawa loves him back, and together they make up for each other’s missing pieces. It's more than Reigen could ever ask for. More than enough.
And he wouldn't trade a single moment of it for the world.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Shigeo and Ritsu have been on the run for most of their lives, and Claw has never failed to be right behind them. For as long as they can remember, running is all they've ever known. It's all they've ever done.
But then, they stumble into the life of Reigen Arataka, and maybe, just maybe, the time has finally come for them to stop running.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Reigen didn’t know what happened after Mob entered Asagiri’s body to chase out the spirit from within, but he knew nothing good happened there. And he knew it was only a matter of time before Mob couldn't shoulder it on his own anymore.
