Chapter Text
“You look horrible.”
Serizawa shot Reigen an exhausted glare. The blond threw his hands up in defense.
“Sorry! But it’s the truth. Didn’t get much sleep?”
Serizawa gave an affirming grunt, slumping forward until his face was smushed against the pleasant cool of his desk. To say Serizawa had slept poorly would be an understatement; tossing and turning all throughout the night only to wake up choking, his chest heaving short hiccups that made it hard to breathe. hiccups interrupting every attempt to breathe.
The claustrophobic walls of his old room was filling up with water, an inky black that was cut through by the jarring blue light of his monitor screen. With flailing limbs, he swam for the surface—but the surface seemed to grow further and further away. His strength waned as his arms struggled against the pull.
It was hard to resist, especially when a sharp tug at his ankle brought attention to a dark coil wrapped tightly around his right leg. What purpose did he have in continuing to struggle? He became a shut-in to protect the world from himself. Would it not be beneficial to leave? To remove himself entirely would mean less of a burden to his mother, and isn’t she the only one who cared?
A voice whispers in the back of his head, familiar in cadence. Masculine. They’re calling his name. What was it again?
“Serizawa!”
Right. He was Serizawa. But who was calling him?
Before he could find out, black spots began to dot the edge of his vision as the last of the air in his chest deflated. His struggle died down to a final swat in the depths, eyes fluttering shut as his heart pulsed sluggishly.
A cup of steaming hot tea slid under his nose, the gentle aroma jolting Serizawa from his thoughts long enough to stare up blearily. Reigen looked worried, which was an uncommon enough expression that made Serizawa sit upright in an instant. Somehow his eyes flashed with more concern, and Reigen placed a gentle hand on Serizawa’s shoulder.
“Relax. You don’t have to be so tense.” Serizawa let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and looked Reigen directly in the eyes. His hand had stayed a comforting presence on his shoulder, but the eye contact seemed to startle him as the blond suddenly yanked his hand away to laugh nervously.
“Besides! I can’t have you zoning out or falling asleep on us while we have clients. You know—workplace courtesy. We have a coffee machine for a reason!” Upon Serizawa’s continued stare, Reigen shifted uneasily. “Should we start a coffee shop? We can rebrand, tack on some cheesy one liner like ‘Start the day with caffeine to keep your homes nice and spirit-free!’ Ugh, but that doesn’t rhyme, does it? C’mon, Serizawa! Don’t leave me hanging!”
A small huff escaped Serizawa, which seemed to be a validating enough noise to Reigen. He crossed his arms mock-indignantly, but the edges of a smile were perking up the edges of Reigen’s lips. Warmth pooled in Serizawa’s stomach.
He felt better already.
“Let’s get through the first few exorcisms of the day before we get to that client, yeah?” Reigen walked back to his desk, slumping onto his cheap bargain bin office chair with a soft “fwoop.” He rocked back and forth subconsciously as he turned to peer at the wall calendar. Every appointment would typically be written with the same black ink Serizawa knew Reigen preferred, but it seems the ones for today had been listed in a glittery green. Clearly, Tome had gotten to writing them down before Reigen did.
Tome hadn’t been by in a while. Typically, the animated high schooler would spend her after-school hours at the office. But an impromptu visit from her relatives forced her homebound, much to her loud protests at the office a few days prior. With guilt, Serizawa felt glad for her absence. As much as he appreciated Tome and her ability to light up the room with her quick wit that matched (and even outpaced) Reigen’s, he didn’t want her to see him like this. Mopey, tired, and reliving a past that was starting to bleed into reality.
The early appointments rushed by in no time at all. For the final client of the morning, Serizawa waved his hand half-heartedly as the spirit was “exorcised” from an innocuous looking pot. The client oohed and ahhed, paying with a bright smile and a thank you as they left the office with their unchanged pottery.
“There may not have been a spirit, but that guy seriously needs to take better care of his fine china.” Reigen slipped his coat on with a shudder. “I don’t even want to think about how expensive it must be… Ready to head over now, Serizawa?”
Imperceptibly, Serizawa stiffened.
It felt too soon. To see someone else drowning in the same misery that he had all those years ago made ants crawl across his skin, vague sensations of suffocation halting his breathing.
But then Serizawa thought of how the client must feel. He hadn’t been trapped in his room with the intention to stay like Serizawa had. Even if it was for a significantly shorter amount of time, to see other people bear the same burden that he had made his chest weigh heavy with empathy.
So with a self-reassuring inhale, Serizawa nodded his head in agreement.
Reigen went for the door without noticing Serizawa’s internal turmoil, clapping his shoulder in passing as he started to lock up the office. Grabbing a plastic bag filled with various supplies, Reigen ushered Serizawa through the doorway and into the stairwell. The door locked with little fanfare.
The client’s house wasn’t too far, but it did require taking the train. Upon entry, Reigen huffed at the fee—“500 yen for a single ride? What a scam. They’re practically forcing you to purchase a transit card—” and if Serizawa subtly tapped his card against the reader twice as Reigen fumbled with his wallet, the latter was happy to ignore it as they took their seats in the sparsely populated car.
Serizawa’s thoughts drifted again as the train bumped through the city, pedestrians and buildings a blur as the low murmur of people could be heard over the soft rumbling of the wheels passing over tracks. Contemplatively, he wrung his hands together. Was it too personal to ask Reigen about how he spends his time off work? They were co-owners, no longer employer and employee—and friends for much longer. But Serizawa still hesitated on reaching out first when it comes to their interactions, too scared of the inevitable rejection to ever consider asking Reigen out for lunch, or to a bar, or… on a date—
Serizawa coughed loudly, face burning red hot as Reigen glanced over.
The next stop couldn’t come fast enough.
If Serizawa’s pace seemed faster than normal as they stepped off the platform, Reigen didn’t comment on it as they began the short walk to their destination. The client’s house was supposed to be at the end of the block, and Serizawa looked around once or twice before realizing the drab structure of wood was the location. It looked desolate and nothing like how it was described earlier that week, cracked stone gating in an overgrown lawn permeated with a negative energy, occasional pulses causing Serizawa to wince. It took Reigen three tries to realize the doorbell was broken before resorting to pounding knocks that seemed to rattle the house to its core.
Scuffling footsteps rewarded their fraying patience, and Serizawa blinked as the door clicked open to the client, looking scruffier than before. His weary eye bags were enough cause for concern when accompanied by his sullen pallor. Serizawa found himself and Reigen quickly dragged inside as the door slammed into the frame with a rattling bang, bouncing back open with a creak. The client didn’t move to close it again.
Somehow, the interior put the exterior to shame, the smell hitting Serizawa first. It was dark, the lights off and curtains drawn shut so that the only sources of light were from a small retro TV across the room and sunlight peeping through gaps in the front door. The TV buzzed a static noise that made Serizawa bite the inside of his cheek to resist flicking it off with his powers. He looked over to see how Reigen was doing, who didn’t seem to be faring much better, either. He watched as Reigen rubbed the inside of his palm with a can of roach-repellent he’d pulled from the plastic bag he brought. The energy was suffocating.
“Sorry, didn’t get a chance to clean up.” The client looked relatively unapologetic about it. His face was a little roughed up from razor bumps, and appeared to be significantly more disheveled than the last time they’d seen him.
“It’s… fine,” Reigen frowned, turning slowly to the client. His eyes were shut in that familiar I’m a professional look, clasping his hands together around the roach spray.
“Thank you for hosting us, Yoshida-san. As we discussed earlier this week, the exorcisms can sometimes take much longer than expected, especially with spiritual presences as… deeply rooted… into your home as this one.” He side-eyed a trash bag spilling its innards out over the couch.
“Our work can get a little crazy, so would you do us the favor of stepping outside of your home for a bit? We may have to do some extra psychic deep-cleaning.”
Yoshida-san nodded enthusiastically, “Anything to get away from this dump for a bit. I’ll be back in three—”
—and left with another resounding bang from the door. This time, it stayed shut.
“Good grief,” Reigen grumbled, before brandishing the spray in front of him. “Let’s get started. I don’t want to spend any longer in this shitty house than I need to. Then, we can go grab some ramen.”
Serizawa obediently began to pick up some of the items blocking the path forward, namely, the empty takeout boxes and the various dubiously-smelling garbage bags. He covered his face with his hands as he telekinetically tossed it out the door and into the dumpster parked right outside the overgrown lawn, the light from the outside a reprieve from the never ending dark of the house. He could hear cursing from the other room, a loud “Begone, spirit!” from Reigen, accenting every syllable with a spritz of spray and rustling of bags. Serizawa decidedly ignored him as he faced the dilemma of the bathroom.
The client had described his problem as “low-maintenance,” uncaring and completely unperturbed about his entire situation the week before. He hadn’t been sporting the disheveled appearance he had before he slammed the door shut, and most definitely hadn’t mentioned or revealed to either him or Reigen about the abysmal state of his home. Something was off—and Serizawa started to feel that familiar sinking feeling as he poked around the dingy bathroom.
The blood in the sink was the first sign. A razor’s edge, blunt but deadly, greeted Serizawa before the cracks in the mirror and the sudden spike of spiritual presence that suspiciously dissipated before Serizawa could grasp its source.
With a frown, Serizawa peered around the room. He had initially thought there wasn’t a spirit, just a bit of spiritual residue due to the state of the client when they’d first met. But after the display a few minutes prior and the filth of the house, it seemed as though there was still a lingering presence. He couldn’t exactly exorcise it without regard for property damage. Warily, Serizawa held out his palm, scanning the area with his aura to see if he could sense anything amiss.
His aura curled around hair products, fallen washcloths and soap bottles, and poked at every corner of the shower before looping back toward the sink. As Serizawa approached the mirror, he felt a light tingling at the back of his head, and instinctively ducked as a razor flew across the room, the blade hitting the far wall with a loud crack and clattering to the ground as it split in two.
The spirit—no, essence?—bolted from the mirror, mucky black trailing its half-transparent form as Serizawa gave chase. How peculiar, for something so weak-looking and malformed to have such a massive impact on Yoshida-san’s home.
Serizawa’s thoughts scattered as his aura spiked, snapping at the not-spirit’s heels. He leapt over trash bags, ducked beneath tables, and nearly ran headfirst into Reigen as the blob turned the corner.
“Hey, Serizawa! There you are—”
“Sorry, Reigen-san!” He sidestepped him to duck into the extensively roach-proofed living room, missing where the tail ends of the wispy shade fled to as the area buzzed with energy. Serizawa huffed, lifting a hand and scanning the area carefully, keeping a close eye on the exits.
“What? Is it here?” Reigen had swapped the can in favor of a spray bottle, approaching Serizawa from behind as he held it like a gun. Serizawa had half the mind to tell Reigen to stay away, but his attention was brought to an odd staticky noise that made Serizawa’s hair stand on end. Redirecting his energy to the television, Serizawa threw his hand out as the essence, realizing its error, attempted to flee.
Purple aura shot across the room as the essence dodged every attempted zap, and after a lamp exploded from a miscalculated shot, Serizawa knew he needed to switch strategies. Expending a chunk of his powers into a large bubble, the essence rammed head-first into the border just before it attempted to phase out through the ceiling. It turned, blurry eye-like shapes tilted in fury, and bolted straight for Serizawa. He leaned to the side, anticipating the essence to make a head-on attack—
Only for it to dart past him and make a direct beeline to Reigen’s unprotected form.
Shit.
“Reigen-san!” Serizawa yelled, and the blond startled just enough to twist his shoulder out of the way. A pained cry choked itself from Reigen’s throat as he landed on his side, the essence veering around to try the possession again.
But Serizawa had had enough. Rage made his vision dot black, the phantoms of a meter ticking higher and higher roaring in his ears as he dropped his barrier to focus on a precise shot.
The spirit could mess with him all it wanted. But to hurt Reigen was a problem that Serizawa absolutely could not allow.
A brilliant purple blasted the room with a crackling bang, static filling the air as the essence writhed in agony. The shockwave was intense, billowing Serizawa’s suit jacket as the shattering of glass went unheard through his determination to get the exorcism done right.
A spasm, then two, and the spirit vaporized with nothing but a faint hiss, the room returning to the dingy color it was before.
Immediately, Serizawa turned to look for Reigen, only to catch him with his mouth wide open, jaw unhinged in a completely dumbfounded look. The silence was broken by the clatter of the spray bottle hitting the wood tiles, devoid of water and blown outward as though a hole had been punched through the plastic. Speaking of which, a lot of things seemed to have a hole punched through them , trash bags that the client had left behind torn open to let stray bits of trash scatter around the perimeter.
“What the hell was that?”
Serizawa quailed immediately. “I—I’m sorry, Reigen-san!”
He made to approach Reigen, but froze as Reigen hobbled backwards, legs twisting over themselves as he frantically tried to maintain his balance. It took a few tries, but Reigen managed to keep himself up as his left leg hovered over the ground awkwardly, giving Serizawa an unconvincing smile.
“It’s alright. It’s only a sprain.”
Serizawa’s breath quickened. Reigen truly was lucky, to have encountered such a violent entity and escaped with only a sprain, but just how likely was it that Reigen could have also twisted his arm? Or his entire leg? What if he was thrown across the room, or stabbed by a flying piece of glass?
What if he had been possessed?
The essence—clearly corporeal enough to have a consciousness and pick up objects—could have just as easily taken control of Reigen’s body. Serizawa would have to exorcise it, of course—but what if it fought back? Contorting Reigen’s face into a chilling sneer, his body twisting unnaturally. If Reigen had aimed to kill, would Serizawa have let him?
Could Serizawa have killed
him
?
Unknowingly, the room filled with Serizawa’s aura once again, and a surprised yelp from Reigen went unheard as his hair stood on end, several items lifting off the floor. The house creaked, and Reigen struggled toward Serizawa as his thoughts became more and more dangerous.
How long would he go on for, before he’s lost all control of his powers again? When he’s another accident too deep, and left with Reigen’s blood on his hands? Would Serizawa desperately grab something— anything that reminded him of his umbrella, shackled once again to the shadow of the president? How much had he changed, really?
Arms slid across his chest and wrapped around his back, pulling Serizawa into a tight hug.
They fit like a puzzle.
Serizawa froze, shocked out of his trance. With trepidation, he quickly glanced down, only to be met with eyes staring right back at him. Reigen was afraid, but his expression told of only steely determination.
“Breathe with me, Katsuya. In. Out.”
Katsuya. That was new. Serizawa’s breath caught in his throat jaggedly in a sharp inhale, fluttering his eyes shut as he counted to three.
In. Two, three.
Hold.
Out. Two, three.
Reigen gave an affirming pat after several reps of this, Serizawa loosening his hold to let Reigen step back. He leaned on his good leg to make a deceptively casual slouch, but Serizawa caught the slight pinch in Reigen’s face as he accidentally brushed his ankle against the overturned couch.
Serizawa’s mouth was dry when he spoke, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve before composing himself. “I’m sorry for the sprain. And the… outburst. Both of them, I mean.”
“You don’t have to apologize for that, Serizawa. Mob’s had similar destructive episodes like that, so it’s not the first or last time this will probably happen. Next time, just talk to me, alright?” At Serizawa’s eager nod, Reigen finally relaxed into a loopy smile. “Let’s finish up here. The client will be back soon.”
Serizawa floundered at the lack of chastising. “You’re not mad?
Reigen frowned. “No. Like I said, you can’t control your outbursts—and you’ve exorcised the spirit. At the end of the day, that’s really the only thing that matters. Happy client, happy wallet, right?” At this, a ceiling light crashed into the wood tile, scattering small bits of glass all across the floor. The door creaked in the wind, having been blasted open by Serizawa’s outburst, and the various trash bags around the room loomed over them judgingly. Reigen swallowed nervously.
“...Don’t worry too much about it, Serizawa. We’ll clean up, and worst case scenario, we’ll just point out the fine text in the contract and make a break for it. Okay?”
With a surprised laugh, Serizawa nodded, satisfied with Reigen’s answer.
It was slow going. Picking up the pieces, throwing them outside, bagging it, and spraying the house top to bottom with roach repellent and air fresheners. But hard work paid off, as the client returned with significantly lifted spirits and with uncharacteristic positive attitude as thank you’s were exchanged like spare change.
“As per the contract you signed, you will not sue us for damages done to any personal belongings,” Reigen topped off with a sleazy grin, Yoshida only nodding enthusiastically as he bade them farewell. Serizawa wondered how long it would take for him to notice the imploded TV with a glaring lack of a screen before Reigen started to speed walk toward the station.
It was well into the afternoon, the sun edging closer to the horizon as the two of them exited the fray. The train would arrive at any moment, and Serizawa was relaxed enough that he almost missed the fleeting pulse of energy as the train pulled up to the station. He turned, looking out to the neighborhood, before sensing it flare again. There it was—the same familiar dark spot of negative energy that Serizawa had first sensed over the client’s house, before it cut off abruptly. Serizawa frowned, but before he could investigate, Reigen tugged insistently on his sleeve and dragged him onto the metro before it could leave without them.
The ride back was silent, and several blocks came and went by the window before Serizawa glanced over. Reigen was dead asleep, lightly snoring as his head bobbed up and down with the motion of the train. He was content to let him be, until a light brush of hair brushed against his shoulder, Reigen leaning his weight against Serizawa’s side.
He stiffened, glancing over in a panic to be met with the same serene face, eyelashes light against Reigen’s skin. He looked younger now that the semi-permanent wrinkle between his brows were absent, breath coming out in warm huffs against Serizawa’s skin.
Nobody else was in the train car. The low rumble and slight bumps on the road gave no indication of stopping, and they were well over fifteen minutes to their destination. It doesn’t hurt to have Reigen take a nap for a little bit. He may need it, especially with how overworked he is. Deep breaths, right?
…Would Reigen be mortified if he woke up realizing he fell asleep on Serizawa’s shoulder? Could Reigen fire him for not waking him up earlier? No… Reigen wasn’t that outlandish… but he did threaten exorcism when Dimple would irritate him often enough. Did Serizawa irritate Reigen?! It’s… very likely, and the very idea of Serizawa having let Reigen down one way or another made his stomach crawl uncomfortably. Yet, if Reigen really was irritated by Serizawa, then wouldn’t he—?
A brief snort cut Serizawa’s internal ramble short as Reigen nuzzled his cheek against his suit jacket, muttering under his breath as he dozed oblivious to the bright red face of his impromptu pillow. His thoughts scattered to the wind. Serizawa stiffened as another bump in the road made Reigen lean further into Serizawa’s side.
It was a long way home.