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“For the last time, Serizawa and I are not dating,” Reigen stresses.
He doesn’t bother to lift his head to where Dimple’s puttering around the client’s apartment. Partly due to his pounding headache, having spent the past hour or so in the cramped, stuffy quarters, no more enlightened to the source of the man’s woes than he’d been at the start. Partly because Dimple’s been no help at all so far and doesn’t seem likely to contribute much more in the near future, beyond taking cracks at Reigen’s love life.
“You sure?” Dimple drawls, dangling the syllable off his tongue with a cheeky lilt. “Because from where I’m looking, it sure seems like you two are doing all the usual couple shit. Going out on dinner dates–”
“As if you haven’t seen me treating Mob out plenty of times before–”
“–heading out to haunted locations, just the two of you–”
“–don’t go around misconstruing the duties of our job, Dimple, and aren’t you doing the same thing right now–”
“–hell, I could even make a case that you’re already raising kids together!”
“Would you shut up and let me work in peace already!”
Dimple does. He backs off more than verbally, too, the tiniest dimming of green in Reigen’s peripheral vision telling him that the spirit’s decided to keep his distance.
Shit. Reigen hadn’t meant to be that forceful, but he just – he just doesn’t have the patience to deal with Dimple’s ‘jokes’ right now. Not with the headache, and the heat that his client’s cranked up past burning, and the reminder that he’s too much of a coward to risk what he’s got with Serizawa on the slim chance that Serizawa’s ever going to like him back–
Reigen lets out a breath. “Sorry. Just. You’re sure there’s no spirit, right?”
Dimple takes the olive branch for what it is. “Yeah. Whatever’s bothering your guy, it’s not here right now, if it ever was. Can’t sense any traces of the supernatural in this place.”
Exactly what he’d told Reigen at the start of the job. “Okay. Then, can you leave me alone for a bit? I need to focus on my work right now.”
He doesn’t get a response, but the last traces of green winking out of his sight tell him that, for better or worse, he’s on his own now.
Reigen rubs at his temples, trying to shake off the persistent throbbing behind his eyes that’s been plaguing him for a while now. It doesn’t take. Great. He thinks he might have a cold, and doesn’t that just put the cherry on today’s ever-so-delightful cake?
He looks around the apartment and groans.
Piles of used clothing tossed aside. Textbooks strewn haphazardly on the floor. Old, crusty dishes mixed in with the rest of the sticky mess he’s been tasked with navigating.
There’s a sense of unease he feels, not knowing what might be tucked away in the shadows of the clutter, but it’s easy to dismiss the filth as an explanation for his client’s claims of paranoia and strange memory issues; for one thing, it’s the most stereotypical portrayal of college life he’s ever seen – but also, the chaos is on par with the state of the client’s hotel room, which they claim to have found perfectly spook-free. Despite his misgivings about the general untidiness of the living space, it’s not what’s driven his client out to the hotel they’ve been camping out in over the weekend, until Reigen could come out to fix the problem.
And he will! As soon as he figures out what the problem even is.
An hour in, and he’s got nothing but a pounding head to show for his troubles. The onset of nervous agitation he’s experiencing along with it only confirms in his mind that he’s definitely coming down with a cold. But the job’s not going to get done if all he does is sit here whining about it. So reluctantly Reigen sets back to work, intent on getting at least something done here, and if he’s feeling sick and lonely in the silence he’s created, it’s his own damn fault.
At some point his headache turns to nausea; every pulse of his heartbeat behind his eyes scrambles both his thoughts and his stomach. He’s not normally one to give up on an assignment, but he’s not going to get anything done until this cold lets up. He’ll think of some excuse later, offer his client a discount equal to the cost of living in a hotel room for another day. He just needs to get out now.
He’s midway through his sullen march back to the entrance when the unmistakable, deliberate sound of shuffling pages stops him in his tracks.
He turns to face the clutter, and starts at the sight of the textbooks now stacked neatly in the corner, the clean dishes drying on the counter – and now he knows he’s being watched. That he’s been watched since the moment he and Dimple first walked in. His panic surges at the realization and spikes when, just behind his ear, some thing gives an animalistic growl, hot and wet across the hackles of his neck. The now rapid beat of his heart pounds a single idea into his mind: if he does not leave now, he will die.
No hesitation. He scrambles for the door. He has to – he’s got to leave this place, he’s got to get out of here – get out, get out, right now–
He’s in the bathroom? Reigen doesn’t quite remember walking into the bathroom, or how he’s entered this huddling position with his arms over his head in the bathtub, but the headache’s made him a little fuzzy on details. Why would he come here? He’s trying to get out. He manages to grab the doorknob despite his swimming vision, to pry the door open and walk into…
He’s in the bathroom again. Someone’s been sick in the toilet. Hell, it might’ve been him. He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t remember where he even is. He doesn’t remember how he got here, or when or why his heart’s started racing a marathon in his chest. He gulps for air, heaving breaths that contribute to nothing but his growing panic. He needs to get out.
He stumbles when he crosses the threshold, and then he’s on his hands and knees and this time there’s no mistaking the fact that it’s his gross sick all over the floor – and that’s when he remembers that there’s something behind him, something vile, and he needs to get out, he needs someone to help get him out of this place–
Dimple. He needs Dimple, but he’s sent him away, he doesn’t know where the spirit’s gone. He needs help, but there’s no one here to help him–
It takes too long for his mind to circle over to Serizawa, waiting on standby at the office. Reigen doesn’t consider, as he pulls out his cell phone with hands that won’t stop trembling, that Serizawa’s a twenty-minute train ride away at least, that whatever’s got him shivering and puking his guts on the floor, prowling around the edges of his peripheral vision in slow circles, like a vulture waiting for its next meal to fall, won’t need even half that time. That his eyesight’s too hazy now to make out the numbers on his phone, that the fingers he puts to the buttons anyways can’t muster up the pressure to make the call.
He keeps trying, because if only his fingers will cooperate, then surely Serizawa will come for him. He’ll fix whatever this is. Then Reigen can let himself pass out and come to in the office, and he’ll get to yell at Dimple for not noticing the spirit that got him, and get yelled at for sending Dimple away himself…
His phone comes to a clatter against the bathroom tiles. He barely notices over the room pulsing in and out around him, his lungs and heart whispering in tiny, desperate gasps within his chest.
It’s important, it’s a bad thing that it’s no longer in his hands, he knows, but he can’t for the life of him think of why. He thinks it might have something to do with the sound of nails scraping the floor behind him, but he’s too tired to tell for sure.
Shortly after that… he’s not very much able to think of anything at all.
*
There’s a spirit at the door. Serizawa can sense its presence from his seat at Reigen’s desk, where he’s taken up the position of temporary head of office.
It’s been sort of… lingering, just behind the entrance. He’s not sure what he’s going to do about the situation. It’s not hurting anyone; he’d feel bad exorcising it when it’s not even physically present in the office. But no matter how oddly familiar the spirit’s aura feels to his senses, surely having a ghost at the door would look bad to their clients, right?
Unless the spirit is the client? This is a spirit consultation office. Maybe this time it’s a spirit who needs consulting?
If so, he’d better be ready to handle its issues, as the acting head. It’s a role he’s had to take up in the past, and every time he’d really rather not. Even if he’s used to it by now, and even if he’s been working on his public presence, Serizawa still finds he’d rather defer to Reigen’s judgment when possible.
…That sounds bad, taken at face value. Too much like how he’d been with Suzuki, back in the bad old days of Claw.
Serizawa frowns. Takes the time to reflect critically on his relationship to his employer, a tack he never would have dreamed of taking back then, for fear of losing his only hope of seeing a life outside his bedroom walls. In itself, that’s a point to consider, right there. Unlike Suzuki, Reigen’s always supported Serizawa making his own decisions, paving his own way through life. Adjusted Serizawa’s work schedule around his schooling, gave him tips on how to file taxes, life advice over bowls of ramen…
He can’t imagine where he’d be without Reigen’s support. But he’s able to stand on his own feet now because of it. And that’s why he listens to the man, Serizawa concludes his introspective reflection. Not out of dependence, but out of trust in Reigen’s kindhearted nature.
Too bad his internal enlightenment hasn’t brought him any closer to dealing with his current predicament. The spirit’s still there.
And it’s making its move.
Serizawa straightens his back as the spirit heads toward the door, grasping at the knob unsuccessfully before giving up and floating through the wood. He opens his mouth, about to start the well-rehearsed welcome speech… And then he glimpses, for the first time – but not at all the first, is it – the spirit in question.
The words wither on his tongue.
No.
No, no, no, this isn’t real. It can’t be – he can’t be–
“Hey, Serizawa,” says the softly glowing form before him. He’s smiling, but it’s so, so forced. His hands are clasped in front of him, a show of contrition but also a ploy to keep his arms steady, so the tremors that Serizawa can see wracking his hands won’t show too badly.
It’s too much like Reigen, to try to hide the pain of his own death.
That’s the thought that brings Serizawa crashing out of his denial and surging up and out of his seat. The papers on his desk don’t survive the whirling storm of emotions working its way through his aura, but Serizawa can’t mind them right now, because Reigen’s – Reigen’s…
Reigen’s pasted-on smile fades into a genuine grimace. “Looks like there’s no need for me to explain the situation, huh. Kinda odd I’d wake up here, after, but…” He kicks a translucent foot against the ground. It sinks through like the floor is nothing more than thin air underneath him, and he quickly pulls it back up with a queasy look on his face.
Serizawa’s can’t be faring much better. Trying to distract himself as much as Reigen, he asks, “How?” And then, because he isn’t sure he can bear hearing the answer, “Wasn’t Dimple supposed to be there with you? Why didn’t he…?”
Reigen sighs. “I sent him away.” At Serizawa’s appalled stare, he defends himself with, “I didn’t know there was a spirit! Neither did he! We thought – we thought…” He trails off. Brings up a hand to cover his face. “I guess it doesn’t matter what we thought,” he chuckles darkly. “Since this is the result.”
Serizawa doesn’t know what to say. He steps away from the desk, Reaches out, timidly – because as a spirit Reigen’s so weak, so fragile, Serizawa’s never been so afraid of the wellspring of power thrumming at his fingertips – until he’s brushing at Reigen’s sleeve.
And then Reigen’s falling against him with a shuddering, wet gasp, and there’s no room to maneuver through the labyrinth that is Serizawa’s mental hang-ups, not when Reigen needs him there to hold him close and murmur through the horror seizing up his mind, “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s going to be okay…”
It’s not.
Serizawa can’t even begin to convince himself it is, not when Reigen’s so insubstantial in his arms, feather-light and ice-cold, made tangible only through the interaction of spirit and aura, not the contact of their skin.
He’s daydreamed, in the past, of hugging Reigen. When hands brush casually on their way out of the office, when a pat on the back comes his way for a job well done, when one lanky arm snakes its way across his shoulders and sits like it belongs there, and it truly feels like it does… Serizawa’s often wondered what it would be like, moving from those small intimacies to a full embrace.
Not like this, he’s sure. He never wanted to hold Reigen like this.
But if not the hug, then at least the soothing mantra of his words is enough to calm Reigen down, bring back his usual unflappable composure. He pulls himself together and out from Serizawa’s grasp, and Serizawa struggles to tamp down the fear of Reigen slipping out of his hands, retreating further away than he’s already gone.
“I can’t call myself your employer after… this. I can’t tell you what to do,” Reigen admits, refusing to meet Serizawa’s worried gaze. “But… can I make a request? Could you come with me, to the client’s place – make sure no one gets hurt?”
No one else, Serizawa reads between the lines. Aloud, he answers, “Of course.”
Such a small request; it doesn’t feel like nearly enough. Even so, it’s all he can do.
*
Reigen stares out at the cityscape as it passes them by, the routine bumps and bangs of the metro made unfamiliar by his total inability to feel them in his current form. He never knew he’d miss them, back when he was…
He bites his lip. Peeks over to Serizawa seated silently on the seat next to him. Takes a deep breath as if that means anything to him anymore.
It’s time to face the facts. He’s dead. Deceased. Perished. Shuffled off the mortal coil. …None of the descriptions he tries make the situation feel any more real than the phantom sensation of the train rumbling beneath his feet.
But expecting Serizawa to make the first move about it would be far too cruel.
He reaches out to nudge one slumped shoulder to catch Serizawa’s attention, masking his wince at how brushing up against such an immense aura prickles at his fingers. “I need to say something to you. Pull out your cell phone, and don’t turn this way,” Reigen instructs him, the first he’s spoken during the long and awkward trip back to where he… where he died. “So you don’t look like a lunatic talking to yourself on the train.”
Serizawa eyes him warily, but complies nonetheless. He stares straight ahead with the phone held to his ear, looking for all the world like a man taking a routine call.
Good. That’s good, that Serizawa’s not looking at him. It makes it easier to say the words, “We need to talk about my will.”
Serizawa nearly fumbles the phone. Reigen continues, “I don’t remember the last time I updated it. I think it was after you started working here, I know Mob’s on there, but I don’t know if I put you in it or not. You’d probably have a case for getting your name in, too, if you aren’t already mentioned, and I can’t think of anyone who’d be better for running the business–”
“What are you talking about?” Serizawa cuts in, still forcing his stare straight ahead. Yet his agitation is clear, in his words that come out too clipped and hurried to come across as casual, in his eyes that dart from side to side and never quite settle on a target. “You’re the one–”
“–who’s a bit too dead to be running anything,” Reigen finishes. He winces from the bluntness of the word – an action echoed by Serizawa beside him – but it’s true, and there’s little benefit to sugarcoating the truth at this point.
“I–I don’t want to be talking about this right now,” Serizawa says instead of arguing. “Can’t it wait, at least until the job’s over?”
He sounds terribly distraught. Reigen’s truly sorry he has to do this. “It’s better we talk about this now,” he tells Serizawa gently. “Because I’m pretty sure you’re going to have to be the one to report the body, and then we might not have any privacy for this conversation.”
Serizawa pales. It’s obvious he hasn’t considered that until now, the fact that what’s waiting for him in that faraway apartment building is nothing he’s going to like seeing.
Reigen takes the opportunity to start back up where he left off. “So. My will. Funeral arrangements, too, but my mom’s probably going to take care of that. I know I said you’d be the best choice for heading the office, but if you don’t want to, I’ll understand.”
“Reigen…”
“Oh, but keep in contact with Mob, will you? He’s probably not going to take this very well.”
“Reigen?”
“And all the other kids, especially Teru, I want you to make sure that kid’s taken care of…”
“Reigen!” He snaps to attention like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Why… why are you talking like that?”
“Like what?” he tries to dodge, as though he isn’t perfectly aware of what Serizawa’s talking about.
Serizawa shuts his eyes and draws a deep breath. His hand is clamped down tight around the phone case, knuckles white. “Like you’re not going to be there to take care of them yourself.”
And any excuses Reigen’s readied to roll off his lips – that he’s just looking out for them, that he’s only relying on Serizawa to handle the pesky physical details – they’re wiped away with the guilt of watching the corners of Serizawa’s eyes glisten with unshed moisture, the shivering hunch of his broad shoulders folded too small in his seat, all but begging for Reigen to soothe his worries with those sweetened lies.
Instead, he settles for the truth. “I don’t plan to be.”
He expects the sharp intake of breath beside him. The counter-argument that follows, as well. “Why not? Dimple’s a spirit, too, you’ve never had any problems with him staying around.”
“Dimple’s… Dimple.” Wow. That’s the shittiest explanation he’s ever heard. Serizawa deserves better. So he tries again. “I’m not – I don’t think I could handle it, hanging around the way he does,” he admits. Watching life moving on without him – Serizawa moving on, because he’s a living, breathing person and the last thing he needs is to be tied down to a long-dead conman who never deserved him anyways – it sounds like Reigen’s worst nightmare. “Besides, eating evil spirits to stay healthy would get old, fast. It’d be best for everyone if I just… go on ahead. Strike out for distant horizons, and all that. I don’t want to be a bother.”
“You would never be a bother to me,” Serizawa vows. There’s not a trace of doubt in his quiet declaration. “Never.”
It’s very nice of him to say.
Reigen changes the subject rather than responding, because well-intentioned promises that can’t be kept aren’t enough to change his mind, and he’d rather not get into a fight. Not right now.
“You know, I… If I’d only known this would happen, I wouldn’t have bothered paying rent on my apartment this month. Could’ve splurged on last night’s ramen.” He laughs. Strangled, paltry little huffs that quickly devolve into quiet sobs he hopes Serizawa can’t see from there. Judging by the set of Serizawa’s jaw, more strained than ever, Reigen’s hopes – each and every one of them, all the hopes and dreams he’s ever harbored in his entire life – are in vain.
And oh, it turns out moving the topic like this was a terrible idea, because now he finds he can’t be bothered to stop the rest from spilling out, too. “I haven’t called my mom this week. Haven’t treated Mob to dinner in ages. And I never… I never got to tell you…”
“Tell me what?” Serizawa whispers. He’s set down the phone now, one hand hovering over Reigen’s arm where he’s doubled over from the ache of loss, tossed aside the pretense of separation in favor of meeting Reigen’s regrets with his own gentle sympathy.
Reigen’s pathetically glad, both for Serizawa’s presence and the fact he’s not closing in for another suffocating hug; Reigen wouldn’t be able to take that discomfiting crackle of aura so close, not now when he’s already too overwhelmed by the magnitude of everything. It’s a secret he’ll take to his grave – and it won’t be long before that idiom becomes depressingly apt – how just-shy-of-painful it is to be pressed against that sheer power, like struggling to draw breath next to a roaring waterfall.
But for all their lack of physical proximity, Serizawa’s close in another way, his gaze open, vulnerable. Inviting.
And even though Reigen’s going to hate himself for this, for revealing his hidden thoughts that even if by some miracle they’re reciprocated, will be coming too fucking late to matter – he’s about to say it anyways. “That I…”
Fortunately – unfortunately – that’s when the train rumbles to a halt at their stop, the cheery station announcement over the PA cutting him off before the damning words can slip out.
“Never mind,” he says instead. He turns his eyes down and away from Serizawa’s, forcibly snaps the connection between them. “It’s not going to make a difference.”
He takes the lead as they make their way out of the station in nearly the same uneasy silence as when they’d entered. The walk to the client’s place from there is no less uncomfortable.
Yet somehow the atmosphere grows even more impossibly tense as the two-story building enters eyeshot.
“You didn’t call the police before we got here, did you?” Reigen mutters to Serizawa, fully aware the man had done no such thing.
Serizawa shakes his head minutely, the barest response to Reigen’s words. The rest of his attention seems fully absorbed by the lights flashing at the curbside, the police vehicles on which they’re mounted parked all around the complex. There’s a small crowd gathered outside, evidently apartment residents ousted from their homes by the authorities.
It’s been a while, he supposes. Dimple must have found him, called for emergency services. He’ll have to thank the spirit later for sparing Serizawa the need to call. The helpless, hopeless look on Serizawa’s frozen face at the scene in front of him is already far more distressing than Reigen’s ever wanted to see.
There don’t seem to be any medical services in the vicinity – no ambulances parked nearby, no guys with fancy equipment rushing onto the scene. Presumably the initial call’s been cleaned up already, and what they’ve stumbled into is the leftovers of the big event.
“I’m going to go take a look up close,” he tells Serizawa. He needs to know what’s been left behind, to prepare Serizawa for what he might see before he performs the exorcism.
He’s floating over to the building before Serizawa’s collected enough wits together to stop him. Maneuvers around the people gathered there, meeting no resistance to his passage – of course there wouldn’t be anyone to stop him from going in, he’s a ghost, they can’t even see him, just like he wouldn’t have been able to, not so long ago.
It’s not long before he’s looped around the back, about to climb up the stairs to the second story, where the apartment’s located, and then… he stops. Shivers.
How strange, that Reigen’s come out here for Serizawa’s sake, but forgot to give his own its fair share of consideration. He’s not sure he’s ready to head up those steps. No, he is sure; he’s sure he never wants to even come near the place again, not after what those last moments had been like. The confusion, the nausea, the eerie, all-encompassing awareness of the monster creeping around the edges of his vision…
He’d been so afraid. He’s still afraid. What if it’s still there? If it’s waiting to devour his spirit along with whatever it’s done to his body?
God, he can’t even remember how he died. Whether he passed out before it happened or he’s successfully blocked it from his memory, he’s not sure. He has no idea what he’s about to see in there.
There’s only one way to find out. Slowly, reluctantly, he makes his way to the client’s apartment door.
And what he sees there is…
“You idiot!”
*
It takes time to come to grips with the situation.
Not only the police presence around the otherwise innocuous-seeming apartment, what it means for Serizawa’s future and Reigen’s lack of one, but also, just. All of it. From the moment Reigen pulled his self-assured façade back together at the office, Serizawa’s been struggling to stay afloat, clinging to Reigen’s tenuous confidence as his lifeline, as if the man had any better idea than Serizawa of how to handle this.
He doesn’t. Now that Reigen’s gone ahead, now that Serizawa’s had a moment to breathe at this quiet street corner leading to the apartment, to process events in the office and on the train, he’s able to see that.
Reigen’s as scared and confused and uncertain as he is. Even more so, probably. And as much as Serizawa’s relied on the other man in the past… it’s his turn to be there for Reigen now. As much as Serizawa fears the thought of Reigen slipping away from under his fingers, he knows that in truth, it would only be because he’d let Reigen go.
He’s not ready for that just yet. Not when they have so much left to say to one another. So he follows.
He assures the officers at the gate that he doesn’t live here, but he’s only come to see a friend. No, he’s not affiliated with the local news station. Yes, he’ll agree not to enter any of the apartments under investigation.
Each whispered conversation among the crowd he overhears as he passes, each worried murmur of, “I can’t believe nobody knew about this”, “it could have been our baby”, “when are they going to finish the investigation and let us back in?” – they only serve to harden his determination, his resolve to see this through to the end and bring Reigen back home for a nice, long talk of their own.
And if, when all’s said and done, Reigen still chooses to leave them behind, leave him behind… then Serizawa will have to accept his decision. No matter how much the very thought of it hurts.
As he mounts the stairs at the back of the complex, however, that pained resolve fades into utter bafflement.
Serizawa blinks. Again. For a moment, he thinks he’s seeing double; there’s a Reigen floating in the air and a Reigen sitting on the ground. And they’re… arguing?
“…any idea how hard it is to argue with the paramedics?” the seated Reigen’s griping as Serizawa enters the scene. “Especially when you’ve got vomit stains all over your suit?”
The other Reigen rolls his eyes. “You could have just gone with them if you wanted.”
“And then what? You waltz on back here with that sad-sack attitude you had going on, and you don’t even get my wonderful company to tell you to knock it off? Uh-huh. Real great plan.”
Serizawa is incredibly lost. “Um…”
“Serizawa!” the airborne Reigen yelps, nearly landing a backflip in his shock and inexperience with his ghostly form. He recovers adroitly, puts a hand behind his head and turns a sheepish smile in Serizawa’s direction. It’s genuine, too, the curve of his smile matched perfectly to his eyes.
It’s the expression he dons when Serizawa calls him out on a particularly egregious tall tale over dinners. Serizawa almost never expected to see that smile again. Its appearance here, now… he’s not entirely sure what it means, what that smile and that grounded Reigen snorting at his doppelganger’s antics could possibly imply. His heart’s turning circles in his chest, he almost doesn’t dare to breathe and break the spell, and then – then Reigen informs him, that same silly grin still beaming on his face, “It seems there’s been a bit of a misunderstanding.”
He’s never been happier to hear those words.
“I can’t believe you dragged Serizawa all the way over here,” the other Reigen grumbles. He turns to Serizawa, exposing bright red cheeks on a healthy, living body – Reigen’s living body. “Are you seeing this, Serizawa? I go to all the trouble of hauling his unconscious ass out of there, and it turns out he ditched to go hang out with his boyfriend. Who even does that?”
“Serizawa is not my boyfriend!” the spirit Reigen squawks. “And it’s not like it’s been fun and games, we honestly believed I was dead – you can’t blame me for getting backup!”
“About that,” Serizawa feels compelled to ask, “What exactly happened? Did you take down the spirit, Dimple?”
The spirit in Reigen’s body shrugs. “Long story short, there was no spirit. After we got the cops and medical guys here, they figured out there was some kind of gas leak. Carbon monoxide, from the heater or something. Dunno. They’re still looking into it.” He gives Reigen a light poke to the leg, as the easiest limb for him to reach from his position. “From what I gather, it’s this guy who got himself all wound up and started hallucinating spooks out to get him.”
Serizawa expects Reigen to retort back with a jab of his own, but instead he turns away. Looks down, shuffles his feet. Softly mutters, “…It felt real, okay? I really thought…”
Dimple has the look of a ghost who wishes he could eat his words. He sighs. “Well. It wasn’t. So there, you’re fine, it’s fine, we’re all. Just. Fine.”
And they are, aren’t they? The worst case scenario… isn’t, anymore.
Serizawa could bask for an eternity in the glow of that knowledge.
But first…
“…So can I get my body back now?” Reigen inquires. Serizawa nods along, because he too is deeply invested in seeing that happen.
“Well, I don’t know, you sure haven’t been taking good care of it recently.” Dimple whistles mischievously. “I’m sure it won’t mind if I take it out for a spin for a little while longer, don’t you? Might even come out healthier than you’ve been treating it!”
“Dimple, why you–” Reigen tackles the sitting spirit, obviously attempting to bodily push his way back in.
He gets nothing for his troubles except a stuck-out tongue and a sing-song, “Finders keepers!”
“Dimple,” Serizawa chides. His tone is stern, but he’s sure the fond grin on his face betrays his amusement.
“Tch. Spoil my fun, will you?” Dimple glides out of Reigen’s body at the moment Reigen makes another go at getting back in, resulting in a rather humorous crash as Reigen fails to account for the sudden shift in muscle control and lunges down to the floor.
It becomes rather less amusing as he fails to pick himself back up, groaning miserably where he’s fallen. “Ow…”
Serizawa’s there in an instant to support Reigen back into a seated position, earning himself a grateful look from his toppled boss. But his real reward is the solid weight of the man in his embrace, the steady beat of a second pulse against his, the warmth that floods his arms and flushes his whole body with an exultant joy.
“Yeah, the docs said you’d be feeling the effects of the gas for another several hours. Took me ages to get them off my case and let me hang around here,” explains Dimple from above their heads.
“Thank you for doing that, Dimple,” Serizawa says. Reigen offers an unintelligible grumble that could vaguely be interpreted as agreement. “I can take him from here. Can you meet us back at the office?” Or possibly the hospital, if he can convince Reigen to check himself in.
“Sure, sure,” Dimple agrees easily. “I’ll let you two lovebirds have some alone time.” He’s off before either of them can formulate any sort of protest.
It’s just the two of them now, alone with each other.
Reigen’s cradled in Serizawa’s arms, head resting on Serizawa’s left shoulder, and though Serizawa thinks he could probably sit up straight on his own, if he were propped up on the wall… Serizawa simply doesn’t want to let go.
And on that note: “There’s something I have to say to you,” he confesses, a tender murmur into Reigen’s hair. Something he should have made clear a long time ago.
Reigen hums inquisitively, leaning in to Serizawa’s hands rubbing gentle circles on his back. His lids loll sluggishly downward with each calming stroke. “Wha’s’t?”
“I love you.”
A tremor runs from Reigen through his arms, sudden and violent. Weary eyes fly open to meet his.
“Not fair,” Reigen pouts. He puts a hand to Serizawa’s cheek, reverently brushes the line of his jaw with his thumb. His eyes are muddy and tired and glazed with tears, and yet they gleam brighter than any star Serizawa’s ever seen. “Was goin’ to tell you.”
And then they’re laughing, giggling, shaking in each other’s arms from relief and from wonder and from love.
They try for a kiss. ‘Try’ being the operative word, because Reigen’s still wobbly from the poisoning scare and they end up bumping noses instead, and that sets them off on another laughing fit that lasts until Reigen’s far too tuckered out to make a second go-around.
It’s okay; they’ll have time to try again.
Time for the two of them to find their bearings in the altered equilibrium of their relationship. To explore kisses, and hugs, and all the realms of affection that exist out there.
Time to admire all the myriad facets of this new horizon they’ve discovered right in front of their eyes. Together.