Work Text:
Friday, April 10, 2015 — 17:07 | Pan-Caked Up Dessert Bar | 94 Days Left
It’s a perfect, juicy strawberry, ruby red and glistening under its thorough coating of sugar and whipped cream. Delectable. Divine. Flawless. It’s less perfect when it slips off the end of Reigen’s trembling fork and plops onto his pant leg.
And, Reigen thinks glumly, that might as well happen. An extra laundromat visit is the extra sprig of garnish atop his burgeoning shit pile of a day.
When he resolved to quit smoking cold turkey yesterday, he started off strong, just as he had the previous three attempts. He tossed his pack of Lucky Strikes in the dumpster (on trash pickup morning — a valiant display of intent, thank you very much). He didn’t spare a thought for nicotine for a full twelve hours. It wasn’t until he got home last evening that he itched for a smoke at all.
Instead of caving immediately, he opened the rickety window beside his desk — trading in his usual smoking spot to instead relish the fresh air. He took in the stunning view of the downtown sewage treatment facility’s intake valves. He shut the window carefully, so as not to aggravate the first twinges of a brewing migraine. This morning, he woke up, and it felt as though someone was inside his head, chewing on his brain stem like a corn cob. It took everything in his power to tolerate the waft of essential oils through three massage appointments, to sift through a haystack of spam emails for the few monetizable needles, to juggle the inane complaints from a traveling circus of walk-in clients. “Reigen-sensei, help! My sink won’t drain. No, it has nothing to do with the egregious pile of beard trimmings. I must be cursed!”
He helped them all, because even with his skull under a jackhammer, he takes pride in his work helping others, especially the ones stuck in their ways. Some people are so trapped in a deep pit of their own bullshit that they can’t climb out and see the light without an extra hand.
And speaking of hands — Serizawa had come to his side right on cue with the highly-spiritual, extra-long plastic, drain snake. He was getting good at reading a room, their clients, Reigen himself.
“See, sir? You just fit that end down the drain. You put it in all the way, so you get as much pipe debris—”
“Evil spirit,” Reigen corrected.
“Evil spirit,” Serizawa agreed. “You get as much evil spirit as possible. And then when you pull it out, the teeth will capture everything and unclog—”
“Exorcize,” Reigen corrected.
“Exorcize the drain,” Serizawa concluded. “And if that doesn’t work, I can recommend a trustworthy plumber—”
“Spiritual plumber,” Reigen corrected.
“Right. And maybe a, um, spiritual drain catch too.”
They’d keeping working on that.
Money doesn’t buy happiness. Reigen’s always assured his clients of this, especially when they take out their wallets. In fact, having too much money might make you an asshole. All the same, Reigen’s never been unhappy to stuff new funds into the cash drawer, but the clatter of coins over the metal made him want to stick his head in the tiny, broken freezer compartment of the office mini fridge. With gritted teeth, he stayed strong, as strong as he could until a client walked in with a “haunted tuba” — and only then, did Reigen admit he was human and close the office a few hours early.
Serizawa asked what he should do. Reigen flapped around a hand, muttered something about extra time to study his “quadrastic formula homework — or whatever they’re calling it nowadays,” and tossed him the keys to lock up. Serizawa stared at him. Reigen couldn’t read his expression — not for lack of trying, but the way his head pulsed, looking at Serizawa felt like looking directly into someone’s brights on an empty country road. He regarded his creased loafers instead.
“Rei— Arataka, I wanted to see if you could—”
“No, no. Don’t worry about it, big guy. It’s not a big deal. I have to…take care of a thing.”
It’s technically not a lie — he needed to go home, chug a can of coffee, and bury his head under his pillow until the worst of discomfort passed. That’s definitely a thing to take care of.
Reigen spared a reassuring shoulder pat as he slipped by Serizawa and made for the staircase. The sooner he got away from the bustle of downtown and temptation of its many cigarette vending machines, the better. “Enjoy your time off, alright? Study hard! Start that new game you’ve been talking about. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Are…you alright?”
Reigen gave a short salute, a smile that was mostly a sweaty grimace, and the firm declaration: “Never better!”
…And twenty minutes later, Serizawa had found his sorry ass huffing secondhand smoke from a pair of greasy businessmen behind a plastic smoking divider. Not his best moment.
“I dropped my contact lens,” Reigen had insisted. “That was why I was kneeling on the ground.” And Serizawa, who had slept over at his apartment every weekend for the past year straight and never once seen a drop of contact solution cross the threshold, said flatly, “I’m glad you have a new hobby, Reigen-san.”
Reigen wonders now if the tuba might have been more tolerable than the embarrassment.
It’s not that Reigen’s actively avoiding Serizawa. It’s that he’s not not doing it either. It’s…complicated. After weeks and weeks of smooth sailing, their relationship changed last week. Drastically. And worse yet, Reigen walked right into the trap. While Reigen was occupied with stuffing a whole conveyor belt’s worth of tuna nigiri down his gullet, Serizawa set down his chopsticks, locked Reigen into his unshakeable viewfinder, and pulled the trigger. The m-word. The scary one. Not “malfeasance.” Not this time. Scarier.
“Marriage.”
It wasn’t the first time, and Reigen was sure it wouldn’t be the last. Serizawa had unsubtly hinted at his intentions for their relationship for a while. Ever since Reigen had encouraged him to chase after his life goals with vigor, Serizawa’s confidence had grown — a fact that Reigen found equal parts sexy and utterly terrifying. And in the wake of this newest development, someone — unfortunately, Reigen’s the only viable candidate here — has to step in and set more realistic expectations.
For instance, Serizawa can’t marry a smoker! He deserves someone with good, healthy habits. Someone who eats well and exercises often and has a respectable job with a clean, televised-humiliation-free past. Someone who’s never turned their socks inside out to extend their life between wash days. Someone he’d be proud to stand beside in public.
Obviously, this has to be nipped in the bud quickly before things escalate further. Reigen can't let Serizawa do something he’ll regret. He cares for him far too much. And if he waits too long, time will tempt Reigen’s lips away from the shape of the word “no.”
In the present, Reigen and Serizawa sit side-by-side in a quilted, half-moon booth in the corner of a trendy cafe. The table is covered in lacy doilies and there’s a pendant lamp hanging overhead in the shape of a heart. Serizawa dresses his stack of strawberry banana souffle pancakes with a drizzle of Nutella. His elbow bumps Reigen’s. Reigen watches the sauce jiggle the contents of the plate, melt the whipped cream into rivulets over the expansive side of a fresh pancake, pooling under the curve of an uncut banana.
“I hope it’s okay that it’s so busy here,” Serizawa says, tucking his tie into his chest pocket, mirroring Reigen. “I didn’t realize this place would be so popular! My classmates said it’s a good spot for couples. I’m glad we could get a table.”
Reigen finds his resolve. Head still pounding, he sets his fork down beside his own mountain of pancakes. He dips the corner of his napkin into his water glass and dabs away at the worn threads of his polyester suit. Below him, the remnants of the offending berry lay smushed on the floor tile beside his foot.
“There’s something important we have to discuss,” Reigen begins. “Something that’s been on my mind recently. I don’t think it’s something we can take lightly either. This is serious.”
Serizawa turns his head in surprise. “How did you know?”
Eh?
“I didn’t know my secret was out!" Serizawa says. "But if you already know about it, then I suppose this conversation will be a lot easier!”
Was Serizawa already on the same page? It would explain Serizawa’s earlier unease. And taking someone out to a nice restaurant to distract away from the brutal confrontation? Clearly, he was learning the ways of the trade! Yes, that was exactly what was happening. Reigen couldn’t believe his luck.
Further, this development was perfect. Serizawa could be the one to take the reins! And Reigen didn’t have to be the only one setting up speed humps and stop signs and quicksand pits to slow the progression of their relationship. He didn’t have to be the bad guy for once. Most importantly, he didn’t have to wrangle free his tangled-up knot of emotions.
Tension falls out of Reigen’s shoulders. He reequips his fork, saws off a bit of pancake, eats, and swallows. It’s delicious. He chuckles.
“Of course I know your secret! I’m not a gifted spiritualist for nothing. This is a good opportunity, isn’t it? You said you want to take more initiative in your relationships, Katsuya. Why don’t you start the conversation?” Reigen knocks his knee into Serizawa’s thigh. “Tell me whatever’s on your mind. It’ll be easy, since we’re both in on this. You don’t have to sweat it. You can tell me anything.”
“I suppose that’s true,” Serizawa says, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck. His butter knife floats. He gently guides it back to its setting beside his plate. “I just wasn’t sure… Did I really come off so nervous about this? It was obvious?” Serizawa sets down the other floating condiments. “I still have to work on that… No. But you’re exactly right! I need to be more confident! I need to ask for the things I want!”
“Exactly! Let ‘er rip, big guy! This is your moment! Guide me through your thoughts. Take me on a word journey. I can handle anything you throw at me.”
“I—uh.” Serizawa removes his hand, pleased to watch the coffee creamer stay inert. “Is it really okay for me to do this?”
“I’m sure it is.”
“Okay, okay. You’re right. It’s just… Wow! This is a big leap for me.”
“I’m sure it is.”
“I-I’ll do my best!”
“I’m sure you will.”
Serizawa squeezes his eyes shut. He blurts the next line at outdoor concert volume:
“I want to move in together!”
Reigen’s dropped fork splatters whipped cream over the other pant leg.
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the parachute candidate
extra: joint resolution
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Great Real Estate Management & Landlord Information Network, GK
1 Jerk (Seasoning) Lane, Seasoning City, Japan
DATE: April 9, 2015
SUBJECT: URGENT: IMMINENT TERMINATION
Dear valued tenant,
We are writing to inform you of imminent termination of your existing lease in 30 days, as required by Seasoning City Tenant Protection Law. This unexpected termination comes after a months-long legal settlement with the Seasoning City Health Board. After much testimony, examination, and live culture collection, the city has moved forward to condemn the building.
Your belongings and person must remove themselves from the property by 8am on May 10, 2015 if they do not wish to meet the side of a wrecking ball.
Thank you for your understanding and patience during this emerging situation. We cannot emphasize enough that lease termination was not our choice. If the city hadn’t required hazmat suits for inspection of the HVAC system, we’d have happily continued to rent your apartment to you.
Respectfully,
Your loving friends at G.R.E.M.L.I.N., GK
[logo.png] [alt text: The logo looks a lot like ‘Saturn Devouring His Son’ but it’s an anthropomorphic nightmare house and it’s toothy front door is scarfing down the legal tender entrails from a cartoon sack of money labeled with the yen sign — like the kind you see in 1800s bank robbery movies.]
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Friday, April 10, 2015 — 17:27 | Pan-Caked Up Dessert Bar | 94 Days Left
“Mind your business.”
Reigen glares right back at his nosy table neighbors, because — the same as earlier — this might as well happen to him. He waits until their rubber necks rebound back to their shoulders before he grabs Serizawa’s napkin without permission and swipes the mess of his other pant leg.
“So,” Serizawa says, making painstaking efforts to clamp down the wavering in his voice. “Um. What do you think?”
“I think I need a stain remover.”
"No. I mean about what I asked."
Reigen pauses mid-dab.
What does he think? What does Reigen think? This is a bigger mess than his pants! He can’t let this fly! Moving in together? Is Serizawa out of his mind? First, he puts marriage on his bucket list. Then, this…thing. What’s next? Joint bank accounts? Life insurance? Monogrammed towels?
What the f—
He’s gotta get out of here. His leg muscles twitch. There’s sweat behind his knees. The emergency exit is so neon and inviting. Alarm may sound. That might be a problem. And he’s barely eaten his pancakes. If his stomach wasn’t turning a full-1080, he’d have inhaled them already, and maybe a bite or two from Serizawa’s plate when Serizawa’s head was turned.
He might have to address this here and now and in the humiliating company of all these teenagers on first dates.
And Serizawa’s watching him so expectantly.
“I thought this wasn’t a surprise,” Serizawa tells him, eyebrows raised. “You said you knew about my lease situation. Could it be that you were actually thinking about—?”
“No, this is exactly what I was thinking about!” Reigen says. “The signs were there! But I thought about it…differently.”
“Differently,” Serizawa repeats. His face falls, and Reigen’s stomach with it. “Because I have to find somewhere new to live soon, I thought maybe… This made sense to me. Do you think it’s too soon?”
“Of course it’s too soon!” Reigen slaps a hand over the table, jostling the teetering stack of butter packets into shambles beside the adjacent sticky syrup dispenser. “It’s way too soon! It’s only been—”
He counts the months on his fingers. April, May… He runs out of fingers quickly. A year. And then some change. February, March. It’s April. It’s well into April. Almost—
“Two years…?” Reigen mumbles in disbelief.
The cafe whirls into a blur around him. Huh? Two years? How has it been two years already? He plays it all back in his head. Two years since the Rusty incident. Two years of working in constant proximity. Two years of shared subway rides and bus routes and rental cars and bumping hands while walking synchronized in step to grab lunch cartons from the takoyaki stand. Two years of falling asleep to the even rhythm of Serizawa’s breathing and waking up smushed tight against his chest in a too-small bed creaking under their weight. Two years spent in such comfort, time that used to pass so slowly suddenly flew by at a blistering pace.
“Two years on Monday technically,” Serizawa assures him. “Oh, but you don’t have to get me anything! It’s okay if you forgot. It’s just a date. It’s not that important.”
Reigen’s indignant reply comes immediately. “I didn’t forget! We’re… We’re getting dinner!”
He’ll make sure of it. And he’d be making mobile reservations under the table if Serizawa weren’t sitting in plain view of his lap. He’ll do it later in the privacy of his own home.
“I did a lot of reading online,” Serizawa continues. “I read about the timeline that, um, adult relationships usually take and—”
“You can’t listen to other people about your own relationship!” Reigen cries. “What did I tell you about thinking for yourself?”
The corner of Serizawa’s mouth twitches. “Earlier today, you told the couple to fix their ‘cursed’ relationship by ‘being candid about their feelings.’ Isn’t that the same?”
“Everyone knows curses like liars!”
“There wasn’t a trace of evil spirit on them. I checked.”
Reigen waves a flippant hand. “Small curses like that are—”
“Too small for you to notice?” Serizawa completes.
Reigen’s wrist halts mid-wave. “Oi.”
Serizawa’s resisting a smile at his expense — Reigen can tell. It’s unbearably annoying, unbearably endearing. Reigen wants to kiss it off his stupid, handsome face. Instead, he stabs a fork tine through a blueberry. He waves the utensil — impaled fruit along for the ride — as he speaks. It’s the pointing stick for an impending lecture.
“Those two were hopeless! Why else would they have come to us? We’re—you and I are completely different. You can’t trust any person on the internet with important life milestones! All of this…” The blueberry makes a 360-degree revolution in emphatic accompaniment. “This has to be something that comes from within! It has to be some deep, unwavering truth that you feel in your soul! It’s not something you can decide at the drop of a hat. It’s definitely not a decision you make after listening to random commenters on Mobbit!”
“But I’m not listening to them! Not exactly.”
The blueberry makes another accusatory jab. “You just said—”
“I wanted to read about the reasons people live together,” Serizawa says. “People online brought up a lot of interesting points. Saving train money. Affording a nicer place. Sharing meals and government benefits. But I didn’t finish reading, because I realized something. None of that actually mattered to me.”
Reigen squints at him. “So… What does matter?”
“I’ve spent a long time alone. More than a person should. Lately, I want to spend more time together.”
Reigen’s cheeks redden against his will. “Not so loud, would you?”
“Sorry,” Serizawa says in the least apologetic manner possible. He assumes his fork and gets to work clearing away the threat of leftovers from his plate, leaving Reigen to simmer unattended over this new development.
So Serizawa spent a lot of time thinking about it. So what? Serizawa spends just as much time thinking about biology homework and manga spoilers and whether a cat would wear two- or four-legged pants. Still, Reigen wonders what Serizawa imagines when he considers their potential shared abode. Surely, it’s some idealized picture of domesticity. He scoffs internally. How cute. How unrealistic. Leave it to his innocent deputy director to envision something so impossibly wholesome.
Feeling smug, Reigen tries it himself. Since floor plans and specifications are far too boring, he pictures a scene.
Reigen wears an apron. Classic music plays from a record player on the living room kotatsu. The balcony door is open, wafting in fresh spring air — outside smells of falling cherry blossoms and the faint smoke from a wood stove, and it mingles together with the savory aromas marinating over the cooktop. Reigen uncorks a bottle of cooking wine, trading sips and glugs into his stock pot over the stove. In short order, he fixes a supper complete with vegetables and other essential nutrition, a recreation of that one recipe from that one cookbook he’s been meaning to try. Clad in oven mitts, he sets it steaming over a cork trivet on a table set with matching dinnerware down to the chopstick rests.
“Honey, I’m home,” calls a familiar voice. “It smells wonderful!”
Serizawa sets down his briefcase full of shapes homework. He hangs his hat on a hook over the genkan and pads across the polished hardwood floor to the expansive, candlelit dining table. He finds his seat and presses his lips to the apple of Reigen’s cheek and —
Okay. Maybe he gets the appeal.
“Don’t look at me like that!” Reigen says, catching Serizawa’s curious stare. “I’m just…thinking about various things of incredible importance.”
“Sure.”
In an unexpected but no-less-delightful plot twist to the original vision, Reigen imagines Serizawa in the apron and nothing else. “Kiss the cook,” reads the fabric stretched across Serizawa’s broad chest.
Reigen wouldn’t mind that.
Serizawa fixes dinner — a task he’s improved at rapidly in this particular vision. He sets a tray in front of Reigen, and Reigen’s gaze catches on the peek of chest hair poking out over the top of the apron. There’s no utensil on the table; instead, Serizawa offers him a spoonful of cream of mushroom soup.
“Open wide.”
He does as he’s told, sticks his tongue out, and takes everything Serizawa gives him. And this soup — it’s rich, salty, a bit bitter, but most of all, there’s so much of it, enough that it dribbles out of the corner of his mouth while Serizawa holds his chin in place with a tight grip, muttering adoring compliments, how good Reigen is, how good he looks like this, how much he’d like to see Reigen swallow it down and —
“Anything I can help with?” Serizawa says.
Reigen’s blush deepens. “Absolutely not.”
This should have been an easy, instant no. Right? But in his head, it all seems so…
It’s a risk, Reigen reminds himself. Every fling he ever involved himself in fell apart eventually. His track record is flimsier than tissue paper. Statistically, signing himself into a lease is a fool’s errand. Give him a few more months and he’ll find a way to wreck things. He’ll get bored and walk away on a whim. He’ll cave in a fit of anxiety and cancel the whole affair. Worse, he’ll tell some spur-of-the-moment, utterly indefensible lie and then claw his way out of the relationship before he can get revealed for who he truly is. He’ll tell Serizawa about some nonexistent cousin who’s a celebrity, the dog he never had as a kid, any cockamamie story his brain drops to make him more than the boring man he is. And then he’ll run like hell.
He has to navigate the ship around the inevitable iceberg — even if that means he anchors in the same stubborn patch of ocean forever. It’s his responsibility, especially before Serizawa settles down too comfortably into this rapidly-evolving relationship. It’s only prudent! He doesn’t even have to flee. He can…languish. He’ll play it safe, offer his romantic entanglement the warmth and comfort the set of metal bird spikes adoring the downtown bank awning gives a city pigeon.
But then —
Serizawa.
When Reigen left those other people behind, he didn’t feel an ounce of remorse for what he did. Maybe that made him a bad person. Every move he made was thoughtless, emotionless, mechanical. It was the pursuit of the relationship society insisted he wanted, one that he regarded with the same enthusiasm he paid his annual tax forms.
There’s something about Serizawa… Something he can’t place.
He watches Serizawa set down his fork, chewing blissfully on the last bite of pancake. He wipes his mouth with the lacy napkin from his lap. He misses a spot of cream over the stubble on his jaw. He reaches for his coffee, meeting Reigen’s conflicted gaze as he brings the mug to his lips. The crows' feet at the corners of his eyes crinkle. Reigen feels a vice tighten around his heart.
Because Serizawa is different, he makes Reigen’s every wrong choice that more agonizing. Reigen can’t give him the kind of commitment he deserves — and if the man he’s always been is any indication, he never will. He’s someone who won’t ever change.
And yet…
Reigen wants to reach out, rub away that dollop of cream — here in public, with a napkin; in the privacy of their bedrooms, with his tongue. He does neither. It melts, drips once onto the table until Serizawa’s napkin makes its pass. It's a shame, he thinks, to spend so long mulling it over that the opportunity disappears entirely.
Serizawa catches him staring again.
“You have thirty days, yeah?” Reigen says finally.
Serizawa checks his phone. “Twenty nine. Or… Now it’s twenty eight and a half.”
“Then give me a few of them to think it over.”
Serizawa beams. Reigen flinches under its harsh brilliance.
“Hey! That’s not a ‘yes.’ Don’t act like it is!”
The beam only intensifies. It’s unbearably bright, like staring into the sun’s unbridled corona. The vein in Reigen’s temple pulses.
“That’s a ‘maybe’ at best! Got it? It’s a ‘maybe’ that has plenty of chance of being a ‘no’! It might be a ‘no’ already!”
“Reigen-san…”
“Are you even listening to me? Geez! I just said—”
“Arataka.”
Serizawa’s voice is soft. Kind. Egregiously affectionate over the syllables of his given name. It’s the kind of tone that primes Reigen to bend over backwards — and Serizawa knows. A knock-out punch made of kryptonite. Reigen tosses the fork over the patterned tablecloth and rolls his eyes. He folds his arms over his chest and affixes a petulant glare over his partner.
“What.”
“If it might help, we could think over it together.” A faint blush dusts over Serizawa’s cheeks. He sets a hand over Reigen’s knee under the cover of the table. “At my apartment.”
And, Reigen thinks, squeezing his crossed legs together while the suggestion pools heat low in his gut, this might as well happen too.
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mobbit.
r/relationships — posted by u/gunpla_collector_1982 — 1 day ago
Looking for advice: I (33M) want to ask my boyfriend (30M) to move in with me.
Hi Mobbit! :D
The title says it all. I have to move in the next thirty days for various reasons. I care about my boyfriend a lot. I’d like to take this opportunity to level up our relationship. Unfortunately, I don’t have a lot of experience points in romance and other adult matters, so I’m not sure what to say.
I don’t want to stress him out. I’ve noticed that he’s often anxious about change. He doesn’t want to get a new tea set for the office, even though the cracked cup cut his lip once. Most worryingly, I asked him to move his Sim into my Sim’s house once, and he jumped off the couch and tried to climb out the fire escape. He almost fell off the fire escape. It was his apartment’s fire escape.
Anyway, there’s time pressure here. I’d like to avoid putting him in a difficult situation. Any advice you can offer is much appreciated! :D
EDIT: I think some people in the comments are being unfair. He tries everyday to be a good person. He looks out for me and the other people in our lives. He helps people with their ailments. What I admire most about him is how hard he works, even at things he isn’t good at. He’s demonstrably terrible at math, but he always tries to help me with homework. He inspires me to fail at things. In fact, I think society would be a lot better if we depended on more people who don’t know what they’re doing! We could even put more of them in charge. Just a thought.
EDIT2: Some people asked about the status of our relationship. It’s a good question! I think we’re doing well! We spend a lot of time together. We get meals, play video games, and watch movies. He helps me study for class, and I helped him prepare for his court appointment to contest a pair of parking tickets. I’ve gotten rejected both times I’ve brought up marriage to him, but… I’m happy! People keep asking how I’m doing with that for some reason. I’m not upset at all! I’m doing great! Really, really, really great! :DDD
all 56 comments - sorted by: top
u/student_treasury — 1 day ago
I’m reporting this to the moderators as a fake story. Nice try, but there’s no way your “boyfriend” is a real adult.
u/number_one_psychic — 1 day ago
This guy sucks!!!! You should find someone better!!! Someone like Seasoning City’s superstar spiritualist (TM) Roshuuto Dozen! That guy is really cool. And sexy. Really, really sexy.
u/number_one_psychic — 5 hours ago
Commenting to bump this. You obviously must have missed it, since you didn’t reply earlier. Luckily, I’m more on top of things. I wouldn’t want you to miss my terrific free advice!
u/strikingly_blessed — 12 hours ago
Wow! This sounds like a situation my friend had once, but from the other side! I know your boyfriend’s type exactly! Because he’s just like my friend, I mean. Here’s what you have to do:
1) Find your boyfriend (important!)
2) Sit him down (maybe a nice restaurant? I’ve also heard psychic offices can be of big help for a very minor fee!)
3) Tell him you want to live together (be specific!)
4) There you go. How could he not say “yes”?
Make sure you read all of that ^ It’s absolutely crucial. I know what I’m talking about when it comes to this…because of my friend, of course!
But the tl;dr is this: If you love him, be patient. He’ll come around.
EDIT: What the hell is with all the downvotes????
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Friday, April 10, 2015 — 19:02 | 100 Capsicum Corner, Apt 114 | 94 Days Left
There are obvious cons to all of this. Obviously! And Reigen can enumerate all of them to-order. But, the more he thinks about it, there might be some pros to cohabitation.
They hadn’t occurred to him immediately. They become more apparent to Reigen when he’s pressed up against the alley behind the pancake shop, the stall of the single-occupant train bathroom, and the wall of the concrete stairwell in Serizawa’s apartment building. And finally, when his back meets the inside of the door of the apartment, the pros might even outweigh the cons. For instance —
“Everything you said about cost is true,” Reigen tells Serizawa, as Serizawa’s mouth trails hot kisses down the column of his neck. It’s getting harder to concentrate but he manages, even as Serizawa pulls the tie loose from his neck. “We could pool our money together. Find something nice.”
“Mm?”
“M-month-to-month rent, so…there’s no big commitment.”
Serizawa’s fingers pause over Reigen’s collar for a brief second, then resume. “I see…”
Serizawa pushes Reigen’s suit jacket off his shoulders. It gathers into a pile at their sock feet, while Serizawa works on Reigen’s buttons. His teeth meet the sensitive junction of Reigen’s neck and shoulder, and Reigen shudders. It nearly derails his racing train of thought. Luckily, he powers through.
“A-and if the commute’s shorter, then we can work even more. Really build out our savings! They say people in their early 30s don’t save quite enough…”
Reigen’s shirt hangs open. Serizawa’s hands run along his exposed sides, over the fabric of his binder. “I’ve heard that.”
“There’s more,” Reigen says, grabbing handfuls of Serizawa’s suit jacket as Serizawa sucks a bruise just below his collarbone. “I-it’s just practical… It lowers our carbon footprint. It’s good for the environment. If one of us falls down the stairs, the other one can call an ambulance. And see? If the business fails and we can’t make rent, there’s only one eviction. How useful is that?”
“Very useful,” Serizawa says. His hands settle at the base of Reigen’s skull, pulling him into a searing kiss. Reigen’s thoughts spiral on, even as Serizawa licks into his mouth and fits their hips together.
He pulls away to add, “No overnight bags. I’d only need one toothbrush.”
Serizawa pulls him back into the kiss.
Reigen pulls away to add, “Did you know I can fix basic issues? Leaks and such. I own a drill! I bet you didn’t know that. And then if I can’t do it, I can out-argue any super. Trust me.”
“I thought you wanted to talk about this later. I… I didn’t want to bother you with this.”
Serizawa’s teeth worry over his bottom lip.
“Right, right. Later.”
Serizawa pulls him back into the kiss. Reigen accepts. Serizawa sighs into the kiss, breathes Reigen like air, slotting their lips together and pulling up the bottom seam of Reigen’s binder against the sheen of sweat over his skin. And Reigen’s still thinking, but it’s good, it’s great, it’s wonderful. He can feel how hard Serizawa is through the fabric of his trousers, rubbing blissfully against Reigen’s stained thigh, and he’s still thinking, but Serizawa’s tongue is hot in his mouth, and Serizawa’s hand is on his neck, pressing them together closer and closer, and Reigen’s still thinking thoughts like —
“God. Katsuya. Sorry, I just… Living together. You’d take care of all the roaches, wouldn’t you?”
Serizawa leans back and regards him bemusedly. “Is that all?”
“Yes,” Reigen says breathlessly. “Ye-No. No, actually, I can think of more. Like, if we lived together, we could do this every day.”
“Um. You don’t need to convince me. But does this mean you’re saying—”
“No. Yes. No. I don’t know!” Reigen feels a hot breeze over his face. It must be a draft from the window — except then he remembers that Serizawa’s basement apartment doesn’t have windows. It must be the shitty HVAC. “I just wanted to — no, here, let’s do this. You’ve spent time in the world. What’s your ideal apartment?”
Serizawa loosens his own tie. “I’d like good lighting. Lots of shelves would be good. A nice TV and a chair. Maybe two chairs? And space for BluRays and models and books and games and… Good temperature and humidity control and earthquake retrofitting. Um. That might be too much.”
Reigen flattens his hands against Serizawa’s chest. “No, no. That sounds great.”
“...You think so?”
Truthfully, Serizawa’s ideal apartment sounds less like Reigen’s domestic vision and more like the otaku section of Marjoram Mall — but Reigen’s lived in far worse spaces. As long as there’s enough space for a comfortable bed. Speaking of which —
Reigen reaches out for Serizawa’s tie and yanks him back into a kiss. He pulls them even firmer together, finding satisfaction in the grind of his clit into the top of Serizawa’s thigh. Serizawa groans at the friction. His fingers squish divots over Reigen’s exposed waist. He unbuckles Reigen’s belt and fumbles the button loose in succession until Reigen’s pants too fall to the floor, a matched set with the discarded jacket.
Serizawa drops to his knees, pressing a kiss to Reigen’s hip over his boxers. His fingers hover over the elastic. He looks up, face flushed and sweaty and beautiful, despite the incredibly dim, incredibly haunted basement apartment lighting.
“Tell me about your ideal apartment, Arataka.”
It’s already hard to concentrate — what with the intensity of that and the hysteria about the whole situation bubbling somewhere behind his sternum. Serizawa mouths at his cock over the fabric of his underwear, tongue dragging over the growing wet spot — and it gets much, much harder.
“I-I don’t really know. I, uh, haven’t really spent time thinking— Don’t quote me on any of this!”
Serizawa, dragging Reigen’s boxers down his legs, is in no position to take his usual notes — rather, he’s in position to nudge Reigen’s thighs apart while Reigen surrenders most of his weight to the support of the bedroom wall. Serizawa holds him open and presses soft, teasing kisses starting at the seam of his thighs and inward, until he’s hovering right where Reigen wants him. He pauses there.
“Take your time,” Serizawa says. Reigen can feel his hot breath over his cock, and it’s driving him crazy.
Reigen presses over Serizawa’s head. It’s like moving a wall.
He grumbles, “Are you really going to make me do this?”
“You had a lot of important thoughts a moment ago. I’d like to be accommodating. I wouldn’t want you to forget them.”
Serizawa’s lips are so close to Reigen, he almost imagines that they’re on him. One of Serizawa’s fingers rubs against his entrance, wet and warm and insistent. It dips in, but not enough to do anything but frustrate him. His thighs quake in Serizawa’s grip. He’s sure Serizawa can feel his reaction. He’s sure Serizawa’s feeling pretty satisfied about it.
Reigen’s jaw tightens. “Something simple then. Something in a nice neighborhood and—”
He chokes off a moan when Serizawa’s tongue finally drags along the side of his clit. In tandem, Serizawa’s thick finger slides deliciously inside him. Serizawa had hardly needed the extra lube when Reigen was already so wet. He twists the finger just right. He knows exactly what Reigen wants, has for nearly two years of doing this exact thing, but still leaves Reigen trembling with anticipation and need every time.
Except his finger stills and his tongue retracts —
“I’d like to hear more.”
— and Reigen unleashes an indignant throaty noise. He squeezes around Serizawa’s digit, desperate for friction, pressure, anything. None arrives.
“Are you kidding me! I already said something—”
“I said way more than that,” Serizawa tells him. “I like listening to you. Usually, you don’t have trouble coming up with things to say.”
“Is this really the time for this?”
“I have lots of time. No school tonight.”
Serizawa presses a kiss just above the hood of his clit, just out of reach. Reigen could curse him.
Serizawa’s grown confident over the course of their two-year relationship here too. The first time they’d fumbled around on Reigen’s bed, Serizawa came seconds after Reigen touched his dick for the first time with a heartfelt apology. Since then, he’d built up technique — and more importantly, stamina — with experience. He knows how Reigen works, and he wields that knowledge the way he wields his business-card katana: with deadly precision.
Reigen wonders if he’s created a monster.
“We can stop if you’d rather not—”
“Kitchen!” Reigen blurts. “With a stove and decent counter space and a coffee maker and — ah!”
Payment fully processed, Serizawa fingers him in earnest, tongue laving around the hood of Reigen’s cock. Reigen grips tight around his head, pulling him closer, relishing the drag of Serizawa’s bottom lip over his clit, the insistent press of his finger against his g-spot, the burn from Serizawa’s hint of evening stubble, and the constant thrum of psychic energy. Reigen can’t see it — but he can feel the way it gathers like static through his hair and feels so familiar and warm. Like he’s at home.
“I even thought… What if we had more space? You want a quiet place to do homework. So what if… T-two bedrooms!”
Serizawa adds a second finger and ups the pace. Reigen swallows down a whimper. His knees threaten to buckle entirely.
“Aah. If… Shit, that’s good. If a two bedroom is too hard to find… A loft?”
Reigen gasps when his feet leave the floor.
Serizawa hefts his legs over his shoulders, lifting Reigen off the ground and pinning him to the wall like a painting. The cold of the plaster seeps against his sweaty back, raising goosebumps where his binder ends and only the thin fabric of his wrinkled dress shirt hangs over his bare skin. Reigen marvels at Serizawa’s strength, the sturdy foundation he is, physically, spiritually, emotionally, even if there’s a psychic assist — until Serizawa fits his lips around Reigen’s cock and sucks, and Reigen sees stars.
“Lots of space,” he manages, bucking his hips, grinding himself into Serizawa’s perfect mouth. “To stretch out. A home theater. F-fireplace. Fuck, that’s so— A-a huge bath we could share! Like a hotel. Sure it comes at a — hah — premium but… I don’t know! We could live in a fucking castle! …Hey, don’t stop! Wh—hey! Wait…”
Serizawa looks up, and Reigen’s eyes feverishly follow the trail of spit from Serizawa’s chin back to Reigen. His fingers are wet enough to glisten, even in the limited light. Reigen mourns their loss, clenching around nothing. His heels dig into Serizawa’s back, like he could tilt his hips and dip right back in, but Serizawa holds him immobile.
“Shouldn’t we be more…realistic about this? It’s not really about the space we live in. It’s about…the other stuff, I think. Oh. And when I first looked for this place, you told me not to get attached to places out of budget.”
“You’re really gonna make me think about math, right now? I can’t think about a damn thing!”
“I’m just proposing that—”
“It’s all purely hypothetical,” Reigen barks. “It’s not like I’ve signed a lease! Can’t I have some imagination?”
“Right. Of course.”
And, Reigen reminds himself, it’s crucial that it remains hypothetical. He’s supposed to be saying no, after all. Something about being responsible. Something about being focused.
Reigen’s eyes widen when he watches Serizawa suck his own fingers into his mouth, tasting Reigen on them, sliding his tongue into the gaps — and all thoughts of caution or restraint promptly vault out the back of Reigen’s head.
“Please help me imagine something we could hypothetically afford.”
“Fine.”
He’s more than pleased when Serizawa returns to his post. Heat gathers low in his abdomen as Serizawa’s fingers press into him just right, churning furiously when Serizawa pulls back the foreskin over his clit and dives right in like a man starved. Reigen sighs, clutching Serizawa closer. His nails scratch over Serizawa’s scalp. He can’t feel his headache at all.
“They always say your rent,” Reigen manages against all odds, “should…be a third of your income. Max.”
“Oh. Thirds. I see.”
Serizawa adds a third finger and Reigen nearly folds in half over Serizawa’s shoulder. It punches the breath out of his lungs — how unbearably good it feels to be this full, stretched around the width of Serizawa’s fingers when they press mercilessly. Serizawa plays him so well, he could cry.
“Queen bed,” he sputters. “At least! Big—ah!— big enough for both of us!”
“Yes. Keep going.”
“Easy commute. …Ride the train.”
“I think I’d like that too. What else?”
“Shit! I don’t know. A-a balcony! A view. More plants. And— God.”
“And?”
Reigen’s legs shake against Serizawa’s shoulders, toes curled into the stiff fibers of the suit jacket pulled taut over Serizawa’s broad back. His fingers knit into Serizawa’s curls with the urgency of a man looking over the drop of a roller coaster. He’s so wet — the way Serizawa worked him up, he’s a total wreck, chasing after the pleasure building hot and unbearable inside him, messy enough to drip over the strawberry-stained pile of clothes heaped below.
“And… ah, fuck, ‘Tsuya, I can’t —”
Serizawa’s fingers curl relentlessly into him, complementing the way his lips bob around the length of Reigen’s dick. The filthy noises Serizawa makes over him burn into Reigen’s brain. His hair stands on end. His head falls back against the plaster wall with a clunk, while his stomach twists into a white-hot knot, tighter and tighter, like he could explode at any second.
“Hmm.”
Serizawa’s murmur of consideration vibrates over his cock and rattles Reigen’s very core. Even the wall seems to shudder against him.
“How about in-unit laundry?”
With a shaky, choked-off sob, Reigen comes so hard over Serizawa’s tongue that his ears ring.
.
Refreshing feed…
mobtter — @serizawa_k
For you | Following
The Yodeler @YuzuPepperHSYodeler • 30 mins ago
Breaking: Yuzu Pepper Student Council announces total ban on “sports,” citing the collateral danger of “sports balls.” This is a developing story: https://…
└The Yodeler @YuzuPepperHSYodeler • 18 mins ago
@YuzuPepperHSYodeler "A circle of panic": The Badminton and rugby teams wait with bated breath as council rounds off deliberation over exact definition of "sports balls."
└The Yodeler @YuzuPepperHSYodeler • 12 mins ago
@YuzuPepperHSYodeler Update: The council has rolled back the legislation after hearing complaints from the tennis team actively competing in the spring InterHigh.
“This is really stupid,” said team captain Takenaka Momozou. “Whoever wrote this must have run out of better ideas.”
└The Yodeler @YuzuPepperHSYodeler • 3 mins ago
@YuzuPepperHSYodeler Additionally, we can neither confirm nor deny allegations that the student council treasurer was the architect of this most recent piece of failed student legislation. Rumor has it, someone in his family was hit in the face with a soccer ball recently.
└Yuzu Pepper HS Student Council @YPSeitokai • just now
@YuzuPepperHSYodeler We deny the allegations and would also like to deny your urgent request for “council room wire-tapping” budget if the Yodeler continues spreading seditious lies that threaten to unravel the sanctity of our “democratically-elected” student council.
👽 @xx_iwanttobelieve_xx • 2 hours ago
today i watched a completely-true documentary where this group goes looking for witchcraft murder stuff in the woods and films the whole thing. i told my boss what a great idea that would be for us! and he said absolutely not!
└ 👽 @xx_iwanttobelieve_xx • 2 hours ago
@xx_iwanttobelieve_xx can you believe that?? ugh! these guys are hopeless. yeah. sure. so the group all went missing at the end. but that wouldn’t happen to us!!!! if my boss wants to get our office’s name out there, he needs to listen to his employees! no one ever does my ideas
└ lore lover @ohoshida • 1 hour ago
@xx_iwanttobelieve_xx i’ll do your ideas!! <3
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s.k. @serizawa_k • 2 hours ago
Just visited the Pan-Caked-Up Dessert Bar. I recommend this dessert set. It’s called the Fruity Cream Pie! It’s really good. Look how much Reigen-san liked it!
[img.jpg][alt text: A candid shot of a very grumpy-looking Reigen trying to stuff an entire banana in his mouth at once. The banana is dripping whipped cream back onto the plate. In the background, a middle-aged businessman gawks at both the banana’s unusual girth and Reigen’s audacity.]
└ Educated. Sensible. Punctual. @shinrabanshomaru • 33 mins ago
@serizawa_k …guys.
.
Friday, April 10, 2015 — 19:41 | 100 Capsicum Corner, Apt B1 | 94 Days Left
Once Serizawa gently returns Reigen’s legs from their vice around his neck to the linoleum floor, gravity drags Reigen down the wall and settles him into a boneless heap. Reigen gazes up at Serizawa through half-lidded eyes while he catches his breath.
Serizawa wipes his chin, watching Reigen curiously. “Did I do alright? That wasn’t too much?”
“S’okay,” comes Reigen’s wasted reply.
“Um… Then. I wanted to ask, because now I’m not sure. About that conversation we just had…”
“Mm. Later.”
“Right. Okay. Sure.”
He slides off his jacket and tie. His powers drape them over the chair at his desk. He gets up, rolls up his shirt sleeves, and trods the short distance to his sink for a glass of water. He faces the kitchen, back to Reigen.
As coherence trickles back into Reigen’s brain, his gaze sweeps over the width of Serizawa’s apartment. It takes about two seconds to inventory the space. The place is miniscule, even compared to Reigen’s shoebox. It’s far too small for a guy as big as Serizawa. No idea how he’s lived here as long as he has. Reigen chews the inside of his cheek. The guy’s taller than his shower head and he has to squat to see his face in the mirror. If he were an inch or two taller, he’d have to hunch over just to walk around.
In his fanatical vision, Reigen has imagined a place big enough that Serizawa could extend to full wingspan without fear of knocking over a lamp. There’d be room for Reigen to fit comfortably too. It doesn’t have to be giant. No one wants to sweep so much flooring. Reigen hates cleaning, period. As long as it holds all their possessions, their dreams and aspirations, that would be enough, wouldn’t it?
It occurs to Reigen, as his breathing evens out and his headache returns, that he would hate it if their new place smelled like smoke.
Their place…
The thought rattles around in Reigen’s chest like a pair of sneakers in a front loader.
It reactivates the panic from its brief period of orgasmic dormancy.
What the hell is he doing? Reigen’s supposed to be the one with his act together! And yet, here he is, fumbling around on the bases with home plate in sight. He’s the one who’s been out in the world. He’s got the college degree and the driver’s license and the web design certification from a link he found one day on Mobbit! He should be the one leading them around! And yet, Serizawa speeds on right by him, like he hadn’t failed the driver’s test for leaving the parking brake engaged and also floating the car!
Shit, Reigen thinks. Shit, shit, shit.
He can't breathe. He wriggles himself out of his sweaty binder, tosses it aside, and he still can't breathe.
What good is he otherwise, if not for this?
He can’t be dead weight in his own relationships! Won’t Serizawa notice? Won’t Serizawa resent him? Useless as a boss, useless as a partner. The only thing worse than running away is Serizawa realizing just how good he might have it with someone immeasurably better.
No, he has to keep up. He can’t just tread water. He has to keep pace. He has to stay even. Serizawa just blew his mind like it was nothing.
So what can Reigen do?
Across the room, Serizawa drinks his glass from the dripping tap. Too fast, Reigen thinks. He always advises his massage clients to take small sips after strenuous activity. Serizawa’s gulping like a fish. He drinks it so fast that some of it dribbles down. Water, Reigen thinks. Droplets caught in his stubble. The coffee staining his upper lip. Whipped cream on his chin, mushroom soup from a can, or the wet spit and slick on his lips when he watched Reigen slip down the wall into a puddle at his knees.
Reigen knows exactly what he can do.
“Hey,” he calls out in the voice he reserves for following up on outstanding invoices, telling off paranormal-agnostic spouses, or enforcing the bathroom cleaning duty rotation. You know. Boss stuff. “Come sit down for me.”
He interrupts Serizawa mid-sip. Some of the water goes down the wrong pipe. Serizawa coughs twice. He sets the glass down. He coughs some more. He points to himself.
Reigen nods.
Leaving the glass half-empty on the counter, Serizawa wanders to the side of his twin (XL)-sized mattress, red at the tops of his ears.
“Let me suck you off? Please?” Reigen says, kneeling between Serizawa’s legs. He sets his hands over Serizawa’s belt. He gazes up expectantly. “I really want to.”
His pinky grazes over the growing bulge in Serizawa’s slacks — and yeah, he really does.
“I—sure, yes! But, uh, shouldn’t we talk about the whole apartment thing we just—?”
“No time!” Reigen’s hands work in a flash over the belt. It flies into the room and lands against the wall. They both flinch at the noise. “Later.”
Serizawa quizzically checks his watch. “Right. Okay.”
Reigen unzips and pulls Serizawa’s cock from his fly. Serizawa hisses when it hits the cold air and then again when it meets the hot stroke of Reigen’s tongue. Serizawa rests a hand over Reigen’s head. Too gentle. Reigen makes a pass over the length, wetting the length along the way. He rolls his tongue in a circuit around the head, where it peeks free from the foreskin, and then, without further preamble, wraps his lips around the entirety, grabs Serizawa’s hips over his pants, and descends.
“Oh,” Serizawa breathes. “God, ‘Taka, your mouth…”
Serizawa’s thighs twitch under Reigen’s grip. Eager. Serizawa is always so ready lately. Maybe he’s too ready. A man who’s just picked himself up from a roll in the dirt, eager to take the bull by the horns a second time. Reigen’s always the holdout.
Reigen forces himself further down Serizawa’s cock. He could choke on it if it would make Serizawa wear the same expression Reigen wore when he came on Serizawa’s tongue. He’ll relax. Reigen will erase the crease biting deep into Serizawa’s forehead like a fresh coating of spackle. He’ll make Serizawa the happiest man alive. Hold and care for him enough that Serizawa forgets to see the rest of the picture.
Serizawa grips behind Reigen’s ears, digs in tight to Reigen’s skull. Reigen can feel the hard press of each strong finger against the pulse of his headache. He stretches his jaw wider, feeds himself more and more, motivated even more by Serizawa’s emphatic gasp at the attention. More. He tongues insistently against the frenulum; he knows how sensitive he can be. Reigen wants to hear the confirmation in his soul. He wants to feel the deep rumbling groan vibrate over him.
Serizawa murmurs breathlessly, “...G-god. Aah, but you don’t seem like your usual—”
Serizawa’s fingers are tight in his hair. It makes Reigen salivate. His spit soaks into the fabric of Serizawa’s pants. Rougher. It’s good. He can do even more, be more. He strokes over Serizawa’s cock in tandem with the long path of his lips, slick with spit and precum and stretched wide around Serizawa’s girth. He runs his tongue in zigzags on every pass of his mouth over the length, forcing himself lower and lower, until Serizawa’s cock hits the back of his throat and tears prick at his eyes.
“‘Taka, I-I — ah! — close. But um… Are you really okay with—?”
Serizawa doesn’t sound quite as impressed as Reigen hoped. His nose wrinkles. He pushes his bangs away from his face. They’re sticky with sweat. More, he thinks. He can do that. Keep giving and giving, until they’re finally even.
Reigen valiantly fights a losing battle with his gag reflex, face flushing, eyes cloudy. His throat spasms. He wonders if Serizawa can feel it. If it feels good to him. He read once that if he squeezed his thumb tight in his fist, he could suppress the urge but he’s squeezing his thumb as hard as he can, and he’s still got tears streaming down his face.
He’s enough? He’s good, isn’t he? He’s doing his best.
He gags again.
Serizawa can see that, can’t he?
More.
Serizawa goes rigid, silent, and the air feels empty. Void. Maybe he’s simply focused. Maybe he’s blocked the rest out. A one-track mind. Fine. But Reigen wants to hear him say that he’s doing well. That he’s doing enough. He wants to throw him over the edge, hear Serizawa cry out his name, and then press his face into Serizawa’s chest until his racing heartbeat levels out. He wants to look up and see Serizawa’s blissed-out face and be pleased that he can make up for everything else about himself somehow. He swallows against the lump in his throat, and —
“A-arataka, hang on! Stop, stop, stop!”
Before he can even react, Reigen’s wrenched off and away by an unseen force. He falls on his bare ass to the floorboards behind him. After the initial shock of the outburst, he gazes dazedly up. Serizawa — chest heaving, bright red in the face, hair fluttering in the psychic breeze — clamps a hand urgently around the base of his cock. His eyes are wide, pupils blown, a sparking wire in a room full of dry kindling.
“Sorry!” Serizawa sputters. “Reigen-san, I’m sorry. I’m so...”
“Katsuya…”
“I didn’t mean— I was just— I didn’t want it to be over! So soon. And I kept thinking and thinking… The way things have been going, what you said earlier. Everything— A-and the way you looked just now, I didn’t think—” Serizawa covers his mouth with his fist. “You didn’t seem okay. I thought, not like this. I worried about you and then…”
“Huh?” Reigen rasps. “About me? Wait, hold on a sec—”
“No. No… I need a moment,” Serizawa mutters. “Sorry.”
Reigen lifts himself from his recline over his elbows. When he rises, his head clunks on something. It sounds metallic. He tilts his head back.
It’s Serizawa’s non-stick frying pan.
Weird, he thinks deliriously. That’s not where a frying pan goes.
Reigen turns his head, finds the entirety of Serizawa’s tiny kitchen cabinet floating in mid-air. Mismatched sets of pots and pans, instant beef noodles, strawberry snack cakes, a collection of disposable chopsticks and soy sauce packets from the convenience store, the bowl he used for breakfast natto rice and the soapy water it soaked in in the wash basin. Serizawa’s other possessions scatter around the apartment in revolving clusters, shiny with their coating of psychic aura. Model kits, clothes from the closet, a shelf of light novels, and both their toothbrushes from the cup in the bathroom. By the wall, Reigen’s pile of dirty clothes jumble together into a wrinkled, stained ball.
Reigen grabs at the frying pan. It doesn’t budge, like it’s stuck in stone. And with that, he marinates over how best to handle this.
Sure, that blow job wasn’t Reigen’s best showing. It wasn’t his worst either. Two years ago, Serizawa was patient and incredibly kind when he informed Reigen that, even if he did technically finish every time, he didn’t prefer that amount of teeth on his dick.
Reigen wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. Serizawa’s shoulders shake under tension. His toes are curled against the floor, barely visible under the edges of his zipped-up suit pants. He’s knotted up worse than his most “cursed” massage clients. Altogether, Reigen suspects this whole thing runs deeper than some bad head.
Reigen yanks harder at the frying pan. He jiggles the handle. He blows on it. He yanks it again — and finally, it dislodges out of its psychic hold. He sets it on the floor beside him.
Reigen recognizes this pan.
Serizawa got it as a housewarming gift from his mother when he found his first apartment. He had been so eager to prove himself then. Reigen drilled him on customer service over and over. He marveled at the way Serizawa quickly improved. Then, it was on to night school, and even though that took up so much of his time, he was still so hungry for more. Reorganize the client invoices. Learn massage. Get in better shape. Cook for himself. As much as Reigen wanted to teach him, Serizawa too wanted to stand on his own. He had to do it. It’s the least he could do to make up for the lost past.
Reigen made eggs on the pan once. It was months and months ago, the first time he’d ever spent the night. Frying eggs is one of his special moves — where whoever he slept with remembers him fondly for how perfect the yolk was, and it overshadows everything else that might be lacking.
This pan looks brand new, as if Serizawa just took it out of the box. Not a scratch on it — unlike all the rest of Serizawa’s possessions floating around them. Lived-in. Serizawa doesn’t own much; still, Reigen knows so much of it fondly — the arrangement of his prized possessions, the smell of the room down to the fibers of Serizawa’s sweatshirt, and the familiar and gentle psychic wind through his hair.
Home.
“You can talk to me,” Reigen says, pushing himself up to sit cross-legged on the floor. “I told you already. I can, uh… I can take anything you throw at me! You know that.”
Serizawa gives him a very tired look.
“I mean it this time!”
“I think…” Serizawa begins, looking conflicted. “I think I would like it more if I could make my own decisions.”
“About…?” Reigen looks down Serizawa’s body. He looks back up. “About this? Or—?”
“You just decide things! About us. Or me! And you do it without me.”
Reigen blinks. “Eh?”
“I liked it! I always like it when you—” Serizawa looks down. He looks back up. “I like it a lot! It’s usually what I want, because it feels the best! But sometimes, I want other stuff! I want to see you! What if I didn’t want it to end like this? What if I wanted it another way? Like… A different way! Where we did things together and we talked about—” Serizawa looks down and up again. “And we were both on board! And—”
Utterly rapt, Reigen leans forward. His voice lowers. “Just to clarify so I understand. Uh. What are we talking about? Because if it’s what you want, we can totally fuck—”
“It isn’t!” Serizawa cries. Then blushes. “I mean, it is! I want to have sex with you. Of course I do! But that’s not… That’s not what I…”
His face falls into his hands, elbows braced over his knees. His web of psychic hold over the room releases, sending his possessions to the floor. Reigen suppresses his cringe as a metal spatula clatters into the nonstick frying pan.
“I have no idea what I’m doing,” Serizawa says. “I tried to figure it all out and… I didn’t want to scare you. Now I’m even less sure of myself. I-I don’t want to make mistakes I can’t take back. Not again.”
Reigen would give Serizawa’s dick a lot of names over the course of their relationship — but one thing he would not call it is a mistake.
No. That’s confirmation enough. This is about something else. And Reigen has a sneaking suspicion he might know exactly what it is.
He might have to be the bad guy.
“I like it when you tell me what’s on your mind,” Reigen says. “There’s a reason my job is listening to people talk. And you… I never have to wonder what you’re thinking about.”
“That’s not true.”
“It’s about moving in.”
Serizawa hesitates.
“...I suppose.”
“I guess I’m surprised it bothered you this much. You’re the one who’s always worried about rushing into things, you know?”
Serizawa says nothing. Reigen takes the lack of response as permission to dig himself deeper.
“See! That exact thing is why I count on you. You see the problems before they happen! I’d like to be more like that. I’m looking out for both of us. Just like you!” Reigen nudges him with an elbow. “It’s not a problem, is it? It’s good to be proactive! Like…hey — you’re always the one to say ‘let’s all be more careful’!”
“You know I meant that about curses!” Serizawa snaps. Reigen hears the bed rattle against the wall. “Be careful around spirits! Be more cautious around what you don’t know. I didn’t mean it about living together or any of this! I definitely didn’t mean for you to be so extra cautious around my feelings! It’s not like people have done that to me my entire life.”
Serizawa flinches at his own outburst, the way his lips vaulted three steps ahead of his brain. He smothers a hand over his mouth, as if more might spill out if he’s not careful. Reigen watches his shoulders rise as he sucks in a deep breath. In the kitchen, his belongings clamor back into their spots. First the shelves, then the liners, then the contents, one-by-one in queue. The doors open and shut. The drawers close flush. One of the cupboards under the counter doesn’t actually attach to hinges. Reigen had never noticed that before. The hinges are missing, even though there are holes where the hinges should be. Serizawa’s powers leave it neatly leaning against the interior shelving. Close enough.
“How long have you been holding that in?”
“...I’m not sure.”
When Serizawa lowers his hand, he doesn’t look upset. He’s not angry. He isn’t annoyed or exhausted or ready to walk out the door and be finished with this entirely. It’s not that at all.
Reigen’s heart plops like a strawberry onto the floor.
Serizawa’s afraid. And —
Oh.
— Reigen’s looking into a mirror.
Reigen climbs the side of the bed. It sinks under his weight when he sits on the edge next to Serizawa, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his leg, not close enough to touch. They’re both silent for a while. Reigen stares at his own feet planted on the floor. He lost a sock somewhere along the way. Not a clue where. Surely, it’ll turn up in Serizawa’s laundry hamper eventually.
Serizawa’s shoulders finally lower from his ears; his fingers, knotted into fists over his knees, gradually loosen. The static pressure around Reigen’s head fades into nothing. Outside the paper thin walls, Reigen can hear the bus on the adjacent street. The rumble of the evening monorail through the tunnel by the riverwalk. Softer — muted conversations in the next apartment, a slow drip in the sink.
“Sorry,” Serizawa murmurs. “I didn’t mean all of that.”
“No. I think you did.”
“Yeah… I think I did too.”
“Honestly, I think we might both be idiots.”
“...You sound like Dimple.”
“Don’t say his name,” Reigen advises. “You might summon him.”
One more click — Serizawa reattaches the head of a Gunpla kit back to its body. He sets it back right-side up on the shelf with his powers.
“I’m proud of you, you know?” Reigen tells him. It’s a small voice, barely more than the hum of the refrigerator. Reigen wraps his arms around his legs, hugs his knees to his chest. He feels sturdier that way. “You’re doing all the things you set out to do. You’re really going for it! Sometimes, I forget where you started and— Look at where you are now! Standing up to someone like me…” He chuckles softly. “How could I be anything but proud?”
Serizawa’s breath stills in his throat. “I…”
“You’re sprinting out of the gate so fast.” Reigen leans into him, lets his head fall on Serizawa’s shoulder. “I don’t always know where I’m going and… Don’t leave me in the dust. Okay?”
“I’m not going anywhere without you. Because—”
“You still need me to sign your paychecks,” Reigen finishes. “And teach you how to drive properly. And remind you that the nice lady at the department store returns counter doesn’t hate you just because your pants don’t fit.”
Serizawa snorts, shakes his head. “No, because—”
“See?” Reigen pokes into the meat of his shoulder. “Even if I’m…behind, I’m still plenty useful, aren’t I? Useful enough to keep me around.”
“It’s because I love you, Arataka.”
“You—”
It knocks into Reigen like a truck. He thought he had a clear picture of the way forward, but no. He’s been stuck in his own pit of bullshit, so deep he couldn’t even see the light filtering from above. Sometimes, you don’t know how lost you are until someone’s kind enough to tell you. To lend a hand.
Serizawa loves him.
It had been so complicated. It could have simply been.
His eyes swim when it all clicks together. He sniffs. Twice.
Serizawa shouldn’t live in a place with so much dust. No wonder they condemned the place. It’s the toxins! The dust mites! The dusty minerals in the hard water or a loose hair in this throat! Their next place will be much more hypoallergenic. He needs an allergy pill. A vacuum cleaner. And maybe a drink.
“Geez,” Reigen mutters, rubbing over a watery eye. “You’re so loud.”
Cheeks burning, he reaches out to the far side of Serizawa’s face, palm over his clenched jaw, and drags him down into a kiss.
He closes his eyes.
There are things he can’t say, things he can hardly listen to, things he can hardly admit even to himself, even in the privacy of his mind. Too many of those things are the things that matter.
But Serizawa’s tension melts into relaxation as their lips move together. When Serizawa’s hand meets the dip of Reigen’s waist, Serizawa hums with something more desperate too. A psychic static in the air around them. A halo.
Serizawa loves him.
And, Reigen thinks as he settles into Serizawa’s lap, it’s better like this too. Even when Reigen doesn’t speak, Serizawa seems to hear him all the same.
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mobslist
seasoning city > community > rants & raves
posted about an hour ago
I HATE MY NEIGHBOR!!!!!!!
i am at the END of my ROPE with my nextdoor neighbor! he’s usually quiet, but every time he brings a date home, it is CHAOS and ruins my dinner, my evening, and my sleep.
last night, he brought someone home. i couldn’t tell if it was another man or a yowling cat based on the noise alone!! mind you, i can hear them THROUGH MY NOISE-CANCELING HEADPHONES. FOR AGES. and then finally, when i think i’m free, they REARRANGE THE WHOLE KITCHEN. and then they go at it again!! are you kidding me???
i knocked on the guy’s door. he had the audacity to answer in an apron and tell me he was “learning how to make soup” and that he’d be “more mindful of the noise in the future.”
I AM FILLED WITH DOUBT AND RAGE!!!!!!!
we get it, alright? you’re happy!! fuck off. go get a room together. a DIFFERENT room. one far away from me so i don’t have to listen to you two blubber over each other all night!!
and i can hear their conversations too. “hey ‘tsuya, what if i cut your hair on the balcony?” what if i THREW UP?
do you even listen to yourselves? i couldn’t sleep through all the cringing. i wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy!!!
i’m GLAD my building’s getting torn down! i’ve had ENOUGH
(reply?)
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Friday, April 11, 2015 — 23:23 | 100 Capsicum Corner, Apt B1 | 94 Days Left
Reigen’s usually out like a light after a night like this. But this time, it’s Serizawa who’s passed out on his face, hair mussed, cheek smushed over the pillow, bare legs splayed over the covers, snoring away.
Powers, Reigen thinks. He’s totally knocked out.
And, he adds, rubbing the bruise blooming on his shoulder in the shape of Serizawa’s dental palate, maybe the other stuff too.
Objectively, Serizawa’s kind of ugly when he sleeps, but Reigen finds it endearing. He left little room on the twin bed for Reigen to slot himself in. Reigen squirms into the space underneath and in between his heavy limbs anyway, until Serizawa’s chest hair tickles his nose. The movement doesn’t rouse him. Serizawa lets out a soft sigh, pulls Reigen closer in. He’s sweaty. It’s too warm for this.
Reigen doesn’t mind.
He’ll tell Serizawa in the morning. Or maybe he’ll star a few listings in the morning paper and leave it draped over Serizawa’s desk.
They’ll look for a place. Reigen can picture it. Serizawa will scrutinize the thermostat and the seal on the windows. Reigen will talk the broker’s ear off until he offers a discount just to get him to stop. Serizawa will walk the broker down the stairs and return to Reigen with another inexplicable discount too.
Beneath the spike of anxiety that pricks him at the mere consideration of the future, there’s something else. A nicotine headache, definitely. But underneath that too.
Hope?
Moving all their shit is going to suck though.
For tonight, Reigen relishes the moment here with the edge of the frayed quilt under his chin and Serizawa’s heavy arm tucked tight around his chest. The quiet of it. The peace. He’ll figure out how to tell Serizawa all of this eventually. He’ll find the right words to describe his feelings. He’ll fight the fear, if not for himself, then for someone as worth the fight as Serizawa. Because, he knows, if every moment was like this, he could do a month, a year, maybe the rest of his life.
He could go on and on and —
Oh fuck, he remembers, scrambling out of the bed for his phone, the dinner reservations.
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THE YUZU PEPPER HIGH SCHOOL YODELER
“Squeeze the news into your day”
April 11, 2015 // Print Edition // Volume 42, Issue #143
Reel of Real Estate: This Week’s Rental Round-Up
compiled by Mezato Ichi, Investigative reporter
Despite the Asagiri empire’s aggressive entrance into the real estate market, rental prices in Seasoning City have largely maintained their historic lows, which experts have attributed to inexplicable weather, seismic activity, and vegetable-related disasters in recent civic memory.
Here are some of the hottest rentals on the market this week:
Home 1:
[img.jpg][alt text: A luxury home in the Herbes de Provence Heights neighborhood. It’s several stories tall. It’s a modern Japanese home but also has a castle turret addition for some reason. On the front door, there’s a pasted fee collection notice from the HDP homeowner’s association and a flier advertising the ‘Roshuuto Dozen for Sexiest Psychic Alive 2015’ voting campaign.]
address: 13 Sea Salt Way
features: 5 bedroom, 3 bathroom, beach view, marble countertops, luxury appliances, stainless steel fixtures. Kitchen comes complete with three sinks and a built-in nut warming drawer.
description: Tenant responsible for all utilities, gardening, repairs, cleaning, and HOA fee. If you have to ask for the rent, you cannot afford this. Serious inquiries only! (I mean it)
Home 2:
[img.jpg][alt text: The front of a boarded-up building. The door is white. The handles and deadbolt and peephole on the front door have also been painted over with cheap, latex-y white paint. A roach waves from the door frame. He lives there too — very comfortably with his extended family and several close acquaintances. If you squint at the area beside the dirty vinyl siding, you can spot a rusty barrel with a bright yellow hazard sticker that reads: “Danger! Toxic Waste!”]
address: 2000 Mace Avenue #01
features: none
description: Ignore the reviews!!!! I did not “foster a toxic, untenable environment.” I did nothing wrong. A little mold never hurt anyone. Renters these days are so entitled. Next they’ll be asking for “fire alarms” and “proper ventilation” and “windows that exist.” It’s a lovely unit.
Home 3:
[img.jpg][alt text: The front door of a modest, second-story garden apartment. The listing has been circled several times in red pen.]
address: 123 Anise Lane, Apt 2B
features: 1-bedroom, 1-bathroom corner apartment with kitchenette and downtown-facing balcony. Walking distance to shops, parks, and Fennel Station. Mostly working lights. In-unit washer.
description: Great for couples. It might not look like much, but it’s worth the risk.