Chapter Text
albatross
i/ii
"Oi, Mob, this really isn't fair. You've got to stop growing."
Mob started at the sound of his voice, whirled towards him. He seemed startled, caught off-guard.
"Y-you're early!"
"The train made good time." Reigen tilted his head at him. "You seem... disappointed."
"I... wanted to get you a coffee or something," Mob mumbled. He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets.
Reigen smiled; how like Mob, how unchanged he was. He'd probably rehearsed this in his head over and over, planned out every detail, meant to meet him at the station with open arms and a cup of coffee just how he liked it. Of course he was disappointed that Reigen had got here ten minutes early and, ah, ruined everything. He was certainly too tall these days, a good head over everyone else, and his shoulders broad, his legs long, his face matured and handsome – but at the heart of it all, he was still that same awkward kid Reigen had known all these years. He missed him so much.
"Well, I'll still let you buy me a coffee, if you're offering." He clapped him on the arm. "Shall we go?"
"Yeah." Mob shook his disappointment off, smiling at last. He seemed genuinely happy to see him. "It's this way."
Reigen hitched up his overnight bag and followed Mob out of the station. It was a bright crisp morning, early October, and the pavement crunched underfoot with caramel-coloured leaves. The air was fresh, a little bitter, and the walk uphill to Mob's university campus was pleasant. They were in contact almost every day by phone or text but still they had no shortage of things to talk about, Mob moaning about a class he was finding difficult, Reigen regaling him with tales of cases that might have gone horribly wrong if not for Serizawa.
"Honestly, it astounds me that I was ever able to run psychic agency without actual psychic powers," he admitted. "I should probably give him a pay rise so he doesn't leave. I'd be fucked without him."
"I'll be home for winter break soon," Mob reminded him. "I can help you out then."
Reigen smiled. "I'm looking forward to it."
Mob glanced away. His face was a little bit pink, unusual. "...Me too."
(Of course, home meant Spice City, it meant the office, it meant Reigen's apartment. They'd spoken so much since then that he'd almost forgotten that that was the last time he'd seen him: 5am, wearing his clothes, half-dazed from the night before. The night before.)
Mob's campus was pretty typical, a nest of modern brick buildings and neat lawns and manicured trees. Reigen had graduated ten years ago from a completely different university at the other end of Japan but a pang of familiarity hit him all the same because, really, they were all the same. It was Saturday morning so the place was pretty quiet, with just a few groups of more studious kids gathered on the grass with their books and laptops, and Reigen was glad because he was conscious of how young they all were. He'd dressed down, forgoing his business suit for something more casual, jeans and a plain shirt and a jacket. He made joking threats about the drunk jailbird uncle act from time to time but he didn't really want to embarrass Mob in front of his new friends. He hoped it wouldn't be immediately obvious how much older he was, that people wouldn't think he was a creep, that Mob was a weirdo. Not that they were “official”, exactly, and Reigen knew, if pressed, that he would deny it for both their sakes. Mob found it hard to make friends, he didn't want to give people an excuse to ostracise him. Really he knew he shouldn't have come here at all, he should have waited until Mob came home, but Mob had all but pleaded and he couldn't put him off any longer. So. Here he was, wolf in sheep's clothing, led by a lamb.
"There's a good coffee shop in here," Mob said, beckoning. Reigen followed.
"You like coffee now, Mob?"
"No," Mob admitted. "I'm still on the milk."
Reigen laughed. "Better than on the hard liquour."
"I don't like alcohol very much."
"Good boy. Stay away from it and focus on your studies."
Mob squinted at him. "No offence, Shishou, but that doesn't mean a whole lot coming from you."
"Doesn't it?" Reigen was amused.
"Not when you can't take three mouthfuls of sake without getting tipsy, no."
This was true, of course, and Reigen huffed.
"I'll have you know my absurd lightweightiness was legendary when I was at university. Besides, at least it'll be a cheap habit if I ever turn to alcoholism."
"Sure." Mob steered him towards a table in the corner. "I'll be right back." He practically pushed him into the seat and was gone.
Disgruntled, Reigen dropped his bag next to the chair and straightened his lapels. Nobody dared manhandle him the way Mob did – and even Mob had only started to do it recently. He was a lot more confident in himself of late, which Reigen was glad of. He admitted he'd worried about him sometimes. He saw a lot of himself in him.
Mob came back with a large glass of milk and a mug piled high with whipped cream and cinnamon.
"Pumpkin Spice Latte," he said, putting it in front of Reigen, who tried to calculate the calories in the topping alone and quickly gave up. "Since it's Halloween soon."
"It's almost a month away," Reigen grumbled, watching him sink into the seat opposite.
"It's still close." Mob looked right at him. "I guess it's your birthday first, though."
"Ugh, don't remind me." Reigen looked at the ceiling. "Thirty-two, what the hell."
"Thirty-two isn't old."
"I don't want to hear that from an eighteen year old."
Mob shrugged, sipping at his milk. "We should celebrate, since you're here."
"God, spare me." Reigen scooped off the summit of the cream and put it in his mouth, sucking on the spoon. "I'm hoping Serizawa's forgotten."
"I'll text him."
"Don't you dare."
"Why not?"
"Because he'll feel obliged to bring in a cake or something and it'll be awkward and Dimple will give me shit about being old even though he's a fucking ghost so god only knows how old he is." Another spoonful of cream. "No, I'm going to act oblivious, go home and eat a whole cake by myself in front of the TV and then wish I hadn't."
"We always do something," Mob said. "Even if it's just some takoyaki or ramen."
"Well, you're different, aren't you."
Mob jolted, his shoulders rising, his cheeks pinking, his hair lifting a little. He dropped his gaze.
"I-I guess so," he mumbled.
Alarmed, Reigen leaned across the table. "That's not what I meant!" he hissed.
Mob looked up at him again through his eyelashes. "It's true, though," he said.
"E-even if it is, I just meant... well, that you're... I mean, I've known you since you were a kid, for a long time you were... pretty much the only friend I had." Painful to admit as it was. Reigen searched his face. "You understand what I'm saying, don't you?"
"Yes," Mob said.
Good, Reigen thought, because he had no idea. How precious and important Mob was to him... that was something even he couldn't really put into words. God, how he missed him. He didn't want to turn thirty-two, to watch them come further and further apart. Mob was so young, so ready for the world, and Reigen knew he didn't belong here, not with him, not really. He coughed, went back to his coffee, tried not to put any more nails in the coffin.
"Has Ritsu come to visit you yet?" he asked, stirring the cream into the orangeish drink.
"Five times," Mob replied.
"You've only been here three months."
"I know." Mob shrugged. "It's good to see him, though. I miss him a lot. He said he wants to come here next year."
"What a surprise."
"Yeah, he said we could live together. That would be nice." Mob paused. "...I think he could do better, though. This university is fine but there are better ones. Ritsu's smart, he could easily get into Toho or somewhere."
"Did you tell him that?"
"Yes – but he said he wants to come here all the same. He's pretty stubborn."
"Hm." Reigen was still stirring his coffee. It was too hot for him, he knew he'd burn his tongue otherwise. It was only just recovering from a cup of tea from Serizawa three days ago. "Must run in the family."
"Do you think I'm stubborn, Shishou?"
"About some things." Reigen raised his eyebrows. "That, for example."
"What?"
"Calling me 'Shishou'."
"Sorry, it's a habit," Mob said. "I called you nothing else for years, I just do it without thinking." He straightened, looked at him unblinkingly. "You're right, though. I have to get used to calling you 'Arataka'. It would be weird to call you 'Shishou' for the rest of our lives."
He said this with a startling sense of permanence that made Reigen wonder – uneasily – what sort of future he was envisioning in which this was likely to be an issue.
"Well," he conceded, "I suppose you can call me 'Shishou' if you really want. I do still call you 'Mob', after all. Would you prefer Shigeo?"
"Not from you. Mob is fine."
"What do your friends here call you?"
"Kageyama. I guess we're not that close yet. A lot of people that go here live locally so I don't see much of them outside class."
"I'm surprised you don't come home at the weekends," Reigen said – then wished he hadn't.
"I haven't had much chance yet," Mob replied. "Ritsu's visited so many times, so has Hanazawa-kun. I've also had a lot of work to do." He looked a bit shy now. "And, well... we talk a lot so that helps me to not be so homesick."
Reigen smiled. "I'm glad."
"I really miss you," Mob went on, quieter. "I miss coming to work after school. I miss Serizawa and Dimple."
"Jeez, I'll tell Dimple and maybe he'll come up here and bother you instead. He hangs around my apartment at night telling me I shouldn't eat a whole can of Pringles in one go."
"You shouldn't."
"Right, I'm sending him up. I hope you'll be very happy together. Maybe I'll eat two cans of Pringles."
"...Do you miss me?"
So much I could die. But Reigen knew he couldn't say that, it was too desperate, too guilt-inducing, too heavy. He'd say that and Mob, he was the type, he'd pack in his studies and come home and Reigen didn't want that at all. He missed him but he would live because he wanted Mob to live, too.
"Of course I do," he said carefully, curated, "but I'm happy knowing you're here having a great time. I'm... well, we're all so proud of you."
But Mob looked down again, his wedge of jet black hair hiding his eyes. "I don't think I'm doing so well," he said. "I'm really struggling with some of it. Ritsu had to help me last time he visited."
"There's no shame in that, Mob. I'll help you too if you need it. But the most important thing you can do is just do your best. That's all that matters."
Mob sighed, looked up, smiled weakly. "I knew you'd say something like that."
"Am I predictable?"
"A little bit." Mob paused. "Maybe reliable is a better word."
"I think you might be the first person to ever call me reliable," Reigen said thoughtfully. He finally dared to take an experimental sip of his coffee, sickly sweet, synthetically seasonal, still a little too hot.
"Is it good?" Mob asked.
"Honest," Reigen said. "Is that a word you'd apply to me, Mob?"
"Not really," Mob replied.
"Then it's great. Best coffee I've ever tasted. It's definitely not eighty per cent sugar-based flavouring."
Mob smiled serenely at him.
"You're welcome, Shishou," he said.
The world spun in strange ways, stretching shadows, overturning earth – and there were things underneath that squirmed pale with blisters of eyes and too many legs. They were lulling in a limbo, an in-between realm picked clean of flesh, of solid lines. He didn't know what to think of Shigeo Kageyama anymore.
They went to Mob's student dorm room first, briefly, so Reigen could drop off his bag and here, for the first time, he got a glimpse of how Mob lived, how he kept himself. He'd known him so long and never realised that he liked to sleep on the floor. He looked at him, at his clean minimal room, and was suddenly aware of how little he really knew him. He didn't come into being only at the door of Reigen's office, a meal-ticket in a school uniform calling him 'Shishou'.
"What do you want to do today?" Mob asked.
"I don't mind," Reigen said, noticing that he had some plants on the windowsill. "You know this place. I'm easy."
"There's a town nearby with some nice shops. Ritsu and I go there when he visits. Hanazawa-kun, too."
"Okay."
But it was strange. As they sat on the bus, he could pretend this was normal, that they were going out on a job – because being alone with Mob wasn't alien at all, he wasn't uncomfortable with him, it wasn't that. It was just... well, when they got off the bus and headed down the bustling street, they were scouring shop windows, not abandoned buildings, and he realised that aside from eating, they had never really spent any sort of casual quality time together before now. Was that odd? No, he thought, not really. He and Mob were friends but not in the capacity of Teruki Hanazawa, for example. Mob being his friend was secondary to him being his employee, his student, his secret weapon. Except now none of those things were true and he was standing in a clothing store way too young for him with a teenager fourteen years his junior. Even the sales assistants were years younger than him and god, the music – a sign of old age, perhaps, but proof that this place definitely wasn't for him. Not that Mob's youth gave him much in the way of fashion sense; he was rifling through a rack of T-shirts Reigen thought would be better off having a match put to.
"Do you like this?" Mob asked him, holding up a garish pink-and-green number.
Reigen fought to keep his face neutral. "Are you serious?"
"Oh." Mob lowered it. "Hanazawa-kun likes this sort of thing."
"Hanazawa looks like he lost a fight with a Christmas tree."
Mob put the T-shirt back. "You're not enjoying this."
At least he was getting better at reading body language. Reigen unfolded his arms. "Neither are you."
Mob frowned. "It's fun with Hanazawa-kun."
Reigen didn't think he intended this to be hurtful – it was just an offhand observation – but it stung all the same.
"I'm sure it is," he said, "but Hanazawa's your age, after all. Besides, you know I'm not much into fashion. I have six suits the exact same shade of grey."
"Do you want to go to a different store?"
Reigen shrugged. "Let's just wander. We don't have to do anything in particular."
Which is how they ended up on a park bench eating dango from a kiosk, a much better way of spending a Saturday afternoon, in Reigen's opinion – but he stole a look at Mob and noted that he seemed happier, too. It was a warm day for the season and the sky was cloudless and sunny, poured like honey over the reds and golds and oranges scattered on the grass. Reigen crossed one ankle over the other and leaned back against the wood, exhaling. If only he could keep this moment forever – with Mob here, bigger than he used to be, but before he outgrew him completely.
"I was worried you wouldn't come," Mob said out of the blue.
"I said I would, didn't I?"
"I know – but you're dishonest. I know sometimes you say things just to make me happy."
Reigen examined his dango – pink and green left. "Do you think I said yes that night just to make you happy?"
Mob stiffened beside him. He was still far too easy to read.
"I... I feel like I bullied you into it," he said quietly. "...That night, I mean."
"Nobody bullies me into anything. You know that."
"But I'm not nobody." Mob's hand clenched on his knee.
"No," Reigen sighed. "I suppose you're not." He glanced at him. "But, you know... that makes it even less likely that I'd have... well, if I didn't want to."
Mob frowned, opened his mouth–
And then his phone started ringing. He fumbled to fish it out, flipping it open. Reigen glanced idly at it and saw Ritsu's name, resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
"Hey, Ritsu. Yeah, I'm good, you? Yeah, I... mmm... I-I can't really talk right now, Shishou came to visit me. ...Yeah, he's here right next to... I did tell you, Ritsu. Yeah... yeah, I will. Okay. Okay. Talk to you tomorrow. Bye." Mob snapped the phone shut. "Sorry."
"It's fine, it's just your brother."
"I did tell him you were visiting me. It's not like him to be so forgetful."
Reigen looked at him. "I doubt he forgot."
"Well..."
"He knows, doesn't he?"
Mob went pink again. "I-I don't know. He's never said anything but... I mean, he let me in that morning and he knew I was with you."
"You were wearing my clothes, too."
"Yeah." Mob was studying his dango very hard. "But he's never... you know, said anything."
"I doubt he's very pleased."
"Well, I mean, it's not really his business, is it?"
"He might not see it like that, given the... circumstances."
"I'm a consenting adult."
"Yes, now. You weren't always. I did tell you it wouldn't look very good from the outside."
"Ritsu won't tell anyone. I trust him."
"And if he asks you about it? Will you tell him?"
Mob frowned. "Of course. It happened. I'm not ashamed of it."
Reigen groaned. "You're too honest, you idiot."
"Would you deny it?"
Reigen's heart squeezed. He didn't look at him. "T-to your brother, yes. Things being... well, what they are.”
“Then why did you say yes? You say you wanted to but...”
“Well,” Reigen sighed, “I suppose I convinced myself there wouldn't be consequences. I was wrong.”
“Ritsu wouldn't do anything to you.”
“I'm sure he'd suggest you might have picked a little more wisely."
"That would be rich coming from him given that he's dating the guy who burned our house down."
"Suzuki? Still?"
"Yeah, I'm surprised too. All they do is argue."
"Mob, I'm pretty sure the only person Ritsu doesn't argue with is you."
"Maybe we'll argue about this," Mob sighed. "But I don't see what it matters in the end. So what if you're older than me?"
"There are lots of people who'd have plenty to say about it, especially as you were my student for years."
"But that's how I know," Mob explained. "Nobody understands me the way you do, nobody's helped me the way you have. I'm the way I am because of you."
"Maybe," Reigen replied, non-committal. It came out like a rebuff, maybe, but it was all he could muster. Mob's gentle honesty flayed him alive because it was true and because the same was true for him. He missed him because he needed him, because he barely remembered his own shape without him.
"But you're still young." He forced himself to say it. "There are lots of other people in this world that you haven't met yet. They will change you, too."
"Maybe." Mob threw it back at him. "But nobody's like you."
Reigen let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. He couldn't bring himself to look at him – nor to move away his hand when he felt Mob's cool shy fingers close around it. He could feel his pulse under his nails, knew he'd probably rehearsed this, too, agonised over it. He understood what it took for Mob, even now, to be open with his feelings, to say what he really wanted. He felt him lean his head against his shoulder, let out a sigh.
"Arataka," he said softly.
A beat.
"Yeah?"
"Nothing." Mob stretched out his legs, scuffed at Reigen's neat shoes with his own worn hi-tops. "Just... getting used to saying it. It's still weird."
Reigen exhaled again, his dango idle in his lap. He didn't really want it anymore.
"Call me 'Shishou' if you really want," he said.
And maybe that would be best. Perhaps this was his fault, that final night, laying out his name like an offering, a burning of incense. He should have known better, knowing Mob, knowing what he did.
"It's okay," Mob said. "...I want things to change between us."
"Things have changed, Mob." Reigen almost wanted to laugh, this seemed so ludicrous, so–
"Yeah, I guess so." Mob straightened up again, sudden. He gave Reigen's hand a final squeeze and let go. "We should go back, anyway."
"Go back where?"
"To the shops."
"Really? I thought we decided we weren't having fun finding things Hanazawa would wear."
"How about a music store? A book shop? Somewhere that sells plants?"
"Why?" Reigen decided to finish his dango after all because it was something to do.
"Because you like those things."
"I don't want any of them right now, though." Reigen nudged him. "You don't have to think of things to please me, you know."
Mob frowned, looking at his lap. "...I wanted to buy you a birthday present."
"Oh, god, Mob, there's no need for that. You never have before, I don't expect it because I'm not your boss anymore."
"I know," Mob mumbled, "but I wanted to. I thought it would be easier if you were here. I tried to get something before but... well, I realised I don't know what you really like."
An observation that went both ways. On some level they were practically strangers, startling, agonising. Reigen didn't know what sort of music Mob listened to, what kind of books he read. He'd never asked – and Mob had never asked him.
"It's really not necessary," he said. "I told you, I just want to forget about it anyway."
"But that's too sad," Mob said. "For no-one to know or give you a present or even wish you happy birthday."
"You can send me a text. I'll be happy with that."
Mob didn't seem very pleased with this arrangement but he let it drop. "If you don't want to go back to the town then what shall we do? There's a cinema Ritsu and I go to sometimes. We could see a movie."
"It's too nice out for that. Let's just go for a walk, see where it takes us."
"This park goes off into the woods, I think."
"Perfect." Reigen stood up. "And it's free."
"I see you're still a cheapskate, Shishou."
Reigen nodded sagely. "Always, Mob."
The path did soon veer off into woodland, dense and golden underfoot, the sun coming gossamer-fine through the thick overhang. It smelt sweet and earthy, the beginnings of decay, and the sound of traffic was distant beyond the clusters of trees. It was pleasant, just the two of them, barely talking – although perhaps that was because Mob was several paces ahead in more suitable footwear. Reigen was, of course, wearing sensible shoes that weren't all that sensible for this sort of venture, leaving him lagging, making Mob wait.
"Sorry." He navigated a tree root, catching him up.
"It's okay." Mob looked up, squinting against the sun. His black hair shone like lacquer. "Ritsu and I used to do this; we'd go bug-hunting or we'd collect random stuff."
"Me too," Reigen said. "The collecting stuff, I mean. Not the bugs, I can't stand them."
"What did you collect?"
"Oh, stones, seeds, that sort of thing. Once I found a bullet casing, though. That was my prized possession for years. I liked to think maybe a Yakuza had fired it."
Mob actually laughed a little. "You're weird, Shishou."
"Oh yeah? What's the best thing you ever found?"
"Oh, I never found anything good. Ritsu found a fox skull once. We weren't allowed to keep it, though."
"That's a good find," Reigen agreed. "Alright, you're on, Mob. Let's see who can find the best thing."
Mob smiled. For the first time today he seemed to relax completely, his shoulders easing. "Okay, sounds fun."
"And the loser buys dinner."
Now Mob tilted his head. He seemed amused by this game. "And what's the criteria, exactly?"
"I don't know. You just have to find something unusual and beautiful."
"And how do we decide the winner?"
"Well, I agree it would be better to have a more impartial judge," Reigen said, tapping his chin, "but I suppose we're mature enough to decide between ourselves. The winner will be obvious, I'm sure."
Mob nodded. "Okay." He turned away, casting his gaze downwards as he started to walk, scouting.
Reigen paused, watching him go, the sun streaming over his long slender body, his broad shoulders, his raven-feather hair. His heart ached.
There's no contest. I win.
Mob was declared the winner without much argument – he'd found an empty snail shell with a tiny perfect spiderweb spun across the opening, against which a handful of seeds and stones, however pretty, couldn't compare. They ate at a tucked-away ramen shop that Mob had found in his first week, homing in on places that reminded him of home, and Reigen was glad he'd lost because really he'd had no intention of letting Mob pay for dinner. Mob, of course, was still very literal, very serious about that sort of thing – he would have argued and Reigen really didn't enjoy squabbling with him, even over something so minor. It had been so long since he'd enjoyed his company and he wanted every moment of it to be pleasant, for everything to be as it was.
"Sake?"
Mob raised his head. "What?"
"Shall we get some sake?" Reigen repeated, stirring his broth with his chopsticks. "I recall I promised you some good stuff."
"No thanks, I didn't like it." Mob looked at him, his eyes dark and unreadable. "Besides, I don't want to have to carry you back to the dorm."
Reigen laughed. "Fair enough."
Mob went quiet again – now he was the one to play with his food, concentrating. Reigen recognised that look, knew he was thinking very deeply.
"What's up, Mob?"
"Oh, nothing." Mob frowned at his donburi. "Just... about the dorm. I, um... only have that one futon."
Reigen shrugged. "I don't mind sharing with you."
"Oh, okay." Mob seemed relieved. "Good."
"What happened to the bed? I saw one in the first photos you sent me."
"I had them take it out. I prefer sleeping on the floor. I guess now I'm just used to it but when I was little I had to because I used to make things... well, float." He dipped his head again, sudden, embarrassed. "You, uh... you know that."
Reigen nodded, saying nothing. Yes he certainly did. He was still finding things in the wrong place all these months later. To make a fuss about sharing a futon after, well, that...
It was getting late by the time they left the restaurant. Dusk had long since fallen and the streets were dark and quiet. Reigen couldn't help but linger on it, like watching it from between his fingers, that this was a reversal of that night: the night he'd taken Mob home with him. Now he was the one going home with Mob, to that single futon. Not that he expected anything was going to happen. That night had been different, special, suspended in a realm beyond this, existing in its own reality. Sometimes he dreamed about it, sometimes he felt like he'd imagined it, sometimes he pretended to himself that it hadn't happened. He knew he shouldn't have, they shouldn't have. He wondered from time to time if Mob regretted it, realised he didn't want to know. Selfish.
"Shishou," Mob said reproachfully, watching him light up.
"What?" Reigen breathed out a mouthful of smoke. "You wish I wouldn't?"
"I don't want you to get sick."
"I've cut down a lot. I haven't smoked in the office since you left, I promise. Serizawa hates me doing it, too."
"...It's not that I hate you doing it," Mob muttered. "Honestly, I... always kind of liked watching you." He nodded at the cigarette, embarrassed. "I mean, the way you hold it, it's sort of..."
"Do I look cool?" Reigen asked flatly. Mob admitting he'd always found the way he smoked something of a turn-on was another thing he didn't want to know about.
"I guess so." Mob, thankfully, took the exit strategy. "E-even so, I don't want you to be ill."
"I know." Reigen glanced at him. "Thank you."
"You're still going to do it."
"It's only a couple of times a week. I've got to have some vices. Besides, I guess I'm as stubborn as you."
"Hm." Mob smiled calmly. "We're well-matched."
Reigen sighed out on his cigarette, looking up at the streetlamp overhead. "I suppose so."
Mob made a funny little sound, maybe something along the lines of disappointment – he'd wanted more than that, perhaps – but Reigen didn't really know what he wanted him to say. He didn't believe in soul-mates or that sort of thing and Mob, esper though he was, was too pragmatic for that nonsense, too. He knew he had been too hasty, too stupid, that night, admitting that he loved him. He should have been sensible, selfless, he should have kept his mouth shut. He didn't think they had a future together, no matter how much both of them wanted it. 'Arataka' was something he never should have shot down and placed in his hands.
'Shishou' was fine.
Mob shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked along, which was new and also very clearly copied behaviour. Reigen wanted to tell him not to because it made him slouch but he wasn't in a position to because his free hand was jammed into his own pocket. At least it meant they were out of trouble, not trying to hang onto his. That last morning, with Mob's pulse hot against his own... He'd remembered how young he really was.
"You seem unhappy," Mob said softly, not looking at him.
"I'm not," Reigen assured him. "Just... thinking." A pause. "You're getting much better at reading people, though."
"I got that from you. Eventually."
"Oh? I'm glad you got something useful from me, at least."
This was a joke, of course, self-deprecating, but Mob frowned. "I've learnt plenty of useful things from you."
"Mob, I know, I was just teasing."
"I wish you wouldn't," Mob said. He sighed. "I wish you'd take me more seriously."
Reigen was a little taken aback. "I do take you seriously."
"Yeah, my powers," Mob agreed. "And my worries, my problems, I don't feel like you've ever belittled me or acted like my problems weren't legitimate, even when I was a kid. I always felt like I could talk to you about anything and you'd listen. I'm grateful for that."
"Well, of course–"
"But now you don't want to listen anymore," Mob interrupted. "Even when I'm being honest about my feelings. Even... even after that night."
Reigen exhaled deeply, pluming smoke through his nose. "It's... not that I don't want to listen," he said.
"I want to talk about it," Mob said. "When... when we get back."
Reigen really didn't want to. He wanted to crawl under the futon and forget about the whole thing. He shouldn't have agreed to stay over, then he'd have an excuse, he'd check his watch, he'd have to dash to catch the train. Still, the number one rule of being a maybe-sort-of-con-artist was to know when you couldn't talk your way out of something.
"Okay," he conceded. "We can talk about it."
Mob gave a stiff nod of thanks and that was that. They didn't say another word the rest of the way back, Reigen eyeing fences to size up the ones that were jumpable. Mob would catch him, though, if he tried to leg it – he was younger and fitter and had telekinetic powers and probably didn't eat a whole can of Pringles in one go. Reigen admitted, much as he didn't want to, that he'd put on weight recently, something that wasn't really Mob's fault but was a direct result of his absence. He didn't have anyone to eat dinner with anymore so instead of walking into the city to get a proper meal, he'd go straight home and eat junk in front of the TV. Sometimes Dimple followed him home but he wasn't much company and he wasn't even useful insomuch as he could share the food. He didn't come often, besides, calling Reigen a bore (amongst other things), which was unkind but not necessarily untrue. He hadn't realised quite how much his life had revolved around Mob until he was gone. The best part of his day had been those dinners with him, he'd enjoyed Mondays because he knew he would see him, he was unbearably lonely without him. The phone calls, the texts, they were fine but it wasn't the same, nothing would ever be the same again. Those seven years had left a hole in his life, irreparable, irreplaceable; those fourteen years had left a whole generation between their lives, irregular, irrefutable.
He didn't believe in soul-mates, it was stupid, but still he looked at Mob and thought why did it have to be you?
The room seemed smaller. Reigen didn't know why he felt so nervous all of a sudden but he was starting to sweat, he could feel it clammy beneath his shirt collar. He pried off his shoes and shrugged off his jacket and edged his way around the futon to the bathroom to splash some water on his face. Mob apparently wasn't letting him out of his sight, however; when he raised his face, dripping, he saw him in the mirror. It made him jump and he gripped the sink, breathing out.
"Are you thirsty?" Mob asked. "I can get you some water from the kitchen."
"I'm fine, I..." Wait. "Actually, yes, that would be... Would you mind?"
He saw Mob frown a little, then nod. "Okay, I'll be right back." He paused for a long moment before shuffling out of sight. Reigen heard the click of the door and couldn't help but feel relieved. He was certain Mob hadn't meant anything by it but standing in the bathroom doorway had been blocking him in, backing him up, and that was not how Reigen wanted to have this inevitable conversation. He had his own set of rules regarding how he discussed things with people, be they customers or lovesick former students, and the first thing was to not put yourself at a disadvantage. Sitting down was best, with a desk or a table or something between the two parties – not an option in this tiny dorm room – and with a drink, tea, coffee, water, something to do with your hands, to fill up white noise. He hoped Mob would bring a glass for himself, too.
He went back out into the room and quickly scoped it. There was only one chair and the desk was pushed against the back wall, not ideal. No bed, of course, either. The only place they could be level was the futon. He thought briefly about lying down, trying to make it as casual as possible, but that was too submissive. He wanted Mob to realise that he was taking this very seriously.
Mob came back and praise the gods for his predictability: two glasses, water and milk. He obediently sat opposite Reigen on the futon, crossing his legs, and handed him the glass.
"It's not very cold," he said.
"That's fine. Thank you." Reigen took a sip of it – he actually was kind of thirsty, come to think of it – aware of Mob watching him. He'd noticed that at dinner, in the coffee shop, that Mob seemed to fixate on his mouth. It was a little unnerving, if only because he'd thought the kid had finally grown out of that creepy stare. Apparently not.
"Well," he said, wiping his mouth on his wrist. "I'm listening."
Mob dropped his gaze, staring at his milk. He said nothing, his thumbs sliding up and down the glass. Somehow Reigen wasn't too surprised. Well, he wasn't going to push. He took another mouthful of water, observing Mob go into his pockets and start to take out their finds, lining them up one by one between them. He had deeper pockets so he'd been the one to carry them, wrapping the snail shell in a tissue to keep the spiderweb intact. There were eleven things in all, stones and seeds and a twig curled into a spiral. Reigen liked another of Mob's finds best, a pure black seed as glossy as jet. He'd never seen a seed like it before and wondered what it was from, what it would grow into. He reached for it and Mob grabbed his hand, sudden. His fingers were cold.
"I swear you're trying to give me a heart attack," Reigen exhaled, his heart thudding.
"Sorry," Mob said, his grip tightening. Reigen looked down at his white spidery fingers clinging grim-death to his hand.
"I thought you wanted to talk."
"I'm not good at talking," Mob said. "You know that. And we both know you'll just talk circles around me. I thought about it when I went to get the water. I knew you sent me on purpose, I knew you'd be sitting on the futon when I came back. I was right." He lifted his dark eyes again, piercing. "I know you, Arataka."
"Don't," Reigen said, rattled, wrong-footed.
"Don't what?"
"Don't call me 'Arataka'."
Mob blinked. "Why? You said I could."
"I know," Reigen groaned, "but I shouldn't have. I'm sorry, Mob, it's not your fault, it's mine. It was just... I don't know, I didn't think about it, I didn't–"
"I was happy," Mob interrupted. "That you said I could, I mean. I know I don't use it much, I forget because I'm not used to it, but–"
"That's fine," Reigen said desperately. "Forget it. Forget everything I said that night."
Mob let go of his hand. "Everything?"
"Yes. I was stupid, I was a bit drunk, I... I knew I was going to miss you, I just–"
"You said you loved me." Mob put his glass aside. "Do you want me to forget that?"
Reigen closed his eyes. "You know me," he said softly. "I say things to make you happy."
"Yeah," Mob agreed. His voice was unnervingly calm. "But I also know when you're lying. You weren't lying then."
Reigen opened his eyes again. He sighed deeply. He had nothing to say.
"I think about that night all the time," Mob went on. He wasn't blushing or looking away, his pale face was completely neutral, clinical. "Maybe it was different for me because I'd wanted it for so long, maybe I overanalyse it too much, but the way you looked at me, the way you touched me, the way you said my name... I'm so glad it was you."
"I understand, Mob, I do," Reigen said. His voice was shaking. "And that night, it... happened and it was wonderful and I'm happy I could give you what you wanted but... you know, realistically we can't... we..." He took a breath, pulled himself together. "We haven't got a future together. It's dishonest to pretend otherwise."
"I don't see why not," Mob said.
"Because I'm too old for you," Reigen said, exasperated. "I'll be thirty-two next week, you're still a teenager, it's ridiculous."
"You said you loved me," Mob repeated.
"I do love you," Reigen replied, putting his head in his hands. "And that's why I don't want that for you."
"But that's what I want," Mob said. "I have to live for myself – you're the one who's always told me that. I've made up my mind, I know what I want."
"I refuse," Reigen said, standing up, changing tack. He went to sit in the swivel chair at the desk, elevating himself. He crossed one leg over the other, he folded his arms, he stared Mob down. "You're eighteen years old, you've been away from home barely three months. You're hardly qualified to make that sort of decision. It would be irresponsible of me to agree with you."
"So you suggest that I go and find someone else that I don't like?" Borderline-sarcastic.
"At least your family would be happier with that," Reigen said. "What about Hanazawa? He's your age, he's an esper–"
"I'm not interested in dating Hanazawa-kun." Mob seemed annoyed now. "Why do you care more about how my family feels than how I do?"
"Because I'm not letting you tell your parents you're going to spend your life with that old fraud you used to work for. Will you please have some forethought?"
"So we should both be miserable," Mob said. "That's your advice."
"Mob, you won't be miserable. You think I'm being unfair but you'll thank me. I know you probably can't imagine it right now but you will."
"You're miserable," Mob said.
"How presumptuous," Reigen snapped.
"I'm not presuming. I can sense your emotions."
Reigen inhaled, startled. He squinted at him. "Is that new?"
Mob shrugged. "I guess."
"So you're cheating. You haven't learnt to read people at all."
"I can tell you're sad. You look it. It's different, it's not like you."
"I've admitted I miss you like hell," Reigen said. "But I'll survive. Ritsu obviously misses you, too – but he'll survive. That's life, Mob. Things change."
"Yes." Mob studied their spoils carefully curated before him. He touched the snail shell, made it rock. "I wish you could sense my emotions. Then maybe you'd understand."
Reigen leaned back in the chair, looking up at the ceiling, a habit that wasn't good for his neck. There was a dead moth inside the lampshade.
"You've definitely learnt that from me," he said. "I'm doing the decent thing, not tying you down to me, stealing your youth, and somehow you've turned me into the bad guy. I honestly feel guilty, Mob."
"I suppose there's a first time for everything, right?" Mob said.
"Don't do that." Reigen hunched his shoulders, defensive. Only Mob could get under his skin like this. "Don't act like I'm only doing this for me. Do you want people to say that about you, the weird kid dating some gross old dude? I don't want people to laugh at you–"
"I don't care what other people think anymore," Mob said calmly. He stood up. "I spent too long doing that, wanting to be popular, wanting Tsubomi to be impressed. I don't want to be like that. It doesn't matter, does it?"
He came to him and Reigen raised his foot, putting it out like a barrier to keep him at bay. Mob let it press against his belly and he was so solid, so immovable. Reigen didn't have the strength in any sense to kick him away but still, he'd never done this before, never felt the need to physically ward him off.
"But you," Mob went on. "You still live like that. You care what people think of you. You want to be liked."
"That's because I'm not socially-impaired," Reigen said nastily – immediately regretting it. Mob barely blinked, however.
"You're trying to reject me because of what other people will think," he said. "I know you're thinking about both of us. I know it won't be easy but I don't care. I love you. I don't see why we have to be unhappy because of other people." He reached down and put his hand against Reigen's calf, easily pushing it aside. He took a step closer and Reigen sprang up, putting them level again because he couldn't bear Mob towering over him, so tall and so... so so so–
"You're being short-sighted," he said, savage, desperate. Mob backed him against the desk. "You're being stupid–"
"So are you."
"I'm doing the right thing. Maybe you can't see it but..."
Crying. Shit, he was crying. He'd never let Mob see him upset before, not like this, and god he was too old for it. He wiped fiercely at his face, furious with himself – and then Mob gently pushed his hand away, pressing both palms to his damp cheeks. His hands were cool, his pulse was slow, he looked the same but so different, transmuted, alchemised.
"Arataka," he said, "you're the one who's going to suffer in the end."