Archive of Our Own ^beta

The first time she leaves Teruki alone in the apartment it's almost an accident. Almost.

She stands beside his toddler bed for what feels like years. Her stomach is a cold stone in her body, sinking lower the longer she waits. She takes in his pink cheeks, his messy bed-head hair, and the steady rise and fall of his chest. He’s been asleep for over an hour. All the other parents she talks to rave about how nice it must be that he still takes such long naps.

She can’t stand it.

Teruki is a light sleeper. The apartment needs to be dark. Quiet. She can’t- She isn’t able to do anything, lest he wake up and goodness, this boy. He’s a bit of a monster when he hasn’t slept enough. She wants to watch TV. She wants to put music on. She wants to open the curtains and open the window, she’s suffocating. She wants and she can’t have because Teruki is sleeping.

There is something welling up in her, something sick and unwelcome.

Her son isn’t a baby anymore. He’s two and a half and already shooting up, thinning out a little quicker than the other kids she sees at the park. He’s always talking, demanding her attention every second of the day, watch me, Mama! See? Look I do it! My turn! ME! She never has a moment to herself anymore. Not like when he was smaller and she could put him in the rocker and take ten minutes to breathe. He’s too big for that kind of thing now and wouldn’t stay still for long anyway. He’s going to preschool in the spring and that’s not soon enough. The thought makes her clench her fists, in self disgust or impatience, she doesn’t want to know.

At the same time she dreads it. Preschool leads to kindergarten and elementary school and homework and clubs and parent teacher conferences and concerts and plays and that’s so much she has to take time for. Sixteen more years of him.

This child was forever.

And that thought shouldn’t chill her to the bone. Her own mother’s voice echoes in her static filled mind.

“Babies don’t stay babies forever, you made a person and you deal with the consequences.” The words were scathing, and they had scorched something in her heart. Rattled something loose in her that couldn’t be wedged back into place.

Teruki shuffles on the bed, one little hand opening and closing, his mouth puckering at nothing. When had he stopped sucking his thumb? He really isn’t a baby anymore.

She takes a step back from him, the irrational worry that he can hear the things she is thinking forcing her to put a stop to them if just for now. The sick, unwanted thing bubbles higher. It’s choking her. She can’t breathe. She needs to get out of here.

Her feet are moving before any rational thoughts can push their way through the static.

It's almost an accident.

But it isn’t.

“Just a minute,” she gasps to herself. She just needs a moment of fresh air, that’s all. Just a minute. “Just out on the front balcony.” Her feet take her down the stairwell instead.

She’s a street away when she jerks to a stop in the middle of the road. She turns abruptly and is nearly clipped by a man on a delivery bicycle. You left your toddler alone, is the thought that should be fueling her desperate sprint back to the apartment. Instead it’s: What if he cries and someone hears? Hears no one there consoling him? What if they call the police?

She's sweating as she looms over him once more, but he hasn’t moved. Still asleep. Still quiet. He didn’t notice, and he never has to know.

She doesn’t like the manic relief that cuts the band constricting her lungs.

I won’t do that again. It won’t become a habit, she tells herself.

She tries.

She doesn’t try hard enough.

It's not a habit.

It's not.

Teru really needs to go potty.

The hallway is dark.

It’s a monumental dilemma. He is four years old and there is a nightlight in the bathroom… and maybe if he runs the monsters can’t get him. He can run really fast, after all. Probably too fast for monsters to catch him.

Sliding over the side of his bed, Teru puts his toes on the floor as quietly as possible. He waits, heart loud in his ears. Nothing moves. Small fingers let go of the blankets and he trains wide eyes on the doorway.

Ready? Ready…go!

It’s a mad dash, but he makes it, laughing to himself proudly. No monsters can catch him. He’s the fastest. Mama told him and of course she is right. She wasn’t really looking at him when she said it, but mamas know everything. Daddy would probably say so too if he was home enough to see Teru run like that.

When he is done, he wants a glass of water. Running made him thirsty, so he pads to the kitchen and uses the little red step stool to fill a paper cup in the sink. Or he would, but he can’t, because the lights are all off and he can’t see where the stepstool is. Mama didn’t turn the kitchen nightlight on. Maybe she turned it off when she went to bed? It's too dark to see the clock but Teru doesn’t quite know how to tell time yet anyway.

A little nervous, he creeps around the table and peeks into the living room. It's as dark and quiet as the kitchen. He tugs at the hem of his pajama top, the floor cold under his bare feet.

The apartment is very, very quiet.

It’s kind of scary, and even if Teru is a big boy and is super brave… He turns and slips down the hallway, heading for his parent’s room. His mama doesn’t like being woken up, but maybe just seeing her will make him feel better and then he can get a sip of water from the bathroom sink. His belly hurts as he pushes the door open. It's just as dark inside but he can see enough.

The bed is empty.

Teru’s breath stutters and a whimper slips out.

He crosses the room. Looks under the covers. Looks under the bed. Opens the closet. Runs back down the hall and looks in his own closet. His belly really, really hurts. He checks the bathroom. Behind the shower curtain. Back to the kitchen. He turns on the big lights and they blind him, but he blinks against it because this is more important. The room is empty. He can see into the living room and that’s empty too.

Teru is brave but he is not that brave, and he can’t stop himself from starting to cry. This is scary. This is more scary than monsters, because Mama and his teacher at school tell him monsters aren’t real, and they’re probably right. This is scary because Mama is gone and Teru doesn’t know where she is or what to do.

He’s alone.

“Mama?” The shout is too loud for nighttime. High pitched and panicky. “Mama!?”

There’s no answer and he’s flying towards the front door, clawing uselessly at the bulky child proof doorknob cover. He can’t get out. He can’t go find her. His chest is heaving, and tears are dripping off his chin and getting the collar of his shirt all wet. His fingers can’t reach all the way around the cap to press both sides of the lock down. He knows how the child lock works but he can’t get his hands to do it.

Smacking his hands flat on the door does nothing but make his palms hurt.

Isn’t he supposed to do something when he needs help? Isn’t he supposed to find someone in charge? Can he do that? Can he call the police to come get him and find Mama? He knows how to call 119. Daddy showed him last time he was home.

Teru scrambles to where the house phone sits on the wall and wants to scream.

It’s too high to reach.

His young heart can’t take the stress. He could push one of the kitchen chairs over, but the thought doesn’t occur to him. He's too frightened for that. There is something building inside him, much too big to be held in his body. He needs to let it out. He needs to scream.

So he does, long and loud, and all the coasters on the coffee table flip up into the air. There’s a neon yellow glow around them and Teru has no idea what is going on. He screams again and the couch cushions stick themselves to the ceiling. His third scream is the loudest and longest and lasts right up until the microwave lets out a pop and a flash and there are noises beyond the front door.

Throat sore and heart hammering, Teru stares as the front door swings in and his mother bursts in. Her hair is windswept and there’s something on her face that looks almost like fear. There are words coming out of her mouth, but they are not directed at him.

“-verything’s fine! Thank you for your concern, I’ve got it handled. No, no, I’m sure he just saw a bug, he’s been terrified of them lately. Yes, goodnight!” She is half in the apartment, her head sticking out into the hall to talk to someone Teru can’t see. Maybe a neighbor.

His mother pulls herself in, snaps the door shut, and then rounds on him.

“What on earth are you doing?” she hisses. “Why are you awake, it's almost ten o’clock! What were you screaming about, everyone on the whole floor could hear you!”

Teru can’t answer. He can’t understand why she is angry with him, and he doesn’t really care. All he knows is that he’s magic. He yelled and made things float. Made things glow. He wanted his mama back and here she is. He did that.

“You need to go back to bed.” A shaking hand grips his arm and tugs him towards his bedroom. “For heaven’s sake I was outside for two seconds and you make this giant scene.”

Teru isn’t sure that’s right. Mama wouldn’t lie to him, but she holds his arm in one hand and her other holds tight to a bunch of bags from that loud place she calls the mall.

Teru doesn’t fall back to sleep for a long, long time.

At six years old Teru’s mother lets him stay home alone for a little while every Saturday. She says ‘lets’ because other little boys aren’t allowed to do that. They aren’t special like him. They need their mommies and daddies to do things for them, but Teruki has powers and can do all those things on his own. She isn’t ever gone more than an hour and doesn’t go out at night. Not anymore.

He nods when she tells him to use his powers for anything he likes when she is out. She says she would rather he float something down off a high shelf than have him scratching the floor up by pushing chairs around. Teru can do that on command now. He doesn’t even have to be crying.

She gives him a strange looking smile when he tells her to come back soon. He doesn’t really know what to make of it, but it makes his toes want to curl in the carpet. He doesn’t let them. He stands straight, shoulders back, and tries to look every inch the responsible, grown up boy she tells him he is.

If his chin trembles for a moment every time she walks out the door, who would know?

The summer after Teru turns eight, his father comes home from the longest business trip he has ever been on. Three and a half months. Teru doesn’t quite get what his father does that needs to be done so far away, but he feels the tiniest bit guilty that he doesn’t miss him all that much. Him being home feels almost weird. It's like his father can never remember that he’s a big kid now and he doesn’t need help thank you very much. Or at least that is what his mother says when his father “babies” him. Teru isn’t sure he would mind getting coddled a little bit here and there. He isn’t sure because it never happens.

“We’re heading out, Teruki. We should be back for dinner, okay? Be good,” his mother calls over her shoulder on her way out the door. She drags her husband along, ignoring the slightly confused, hesitant expression marring his face.

“Shouldn’t we wait for the babysitter? I thought you said you called Mrs. Ida?” he whispers.

“I did, she’ll come check in with him in a little bit. Now, we really need to go, these spa tickets are only for today.”

Teru waves and closes the door once they are outside. His cheerful smile turns into something less pleasant. He wishes it was a smirk. It's probably a grimace.

His mother lies a lot. It's almost nice to know she isn’t lying to just him. Mrs. Ida moved away months ago and there is certainly no one coming to check on him. And that’s just the way he likes it. He does.

With a flick of his fingers he snags a family sized bag of chips from the pantry. The lights dim and his TV and game console blink to life. With an aggressive shove, he pushes all his blankets down to the floor to make a nest.

With the chips and a new videogame to try out, Teru is content to spend all day like this. He is.

He isn’t lonely at all. He’s fine.

Saturdays are Teru’s favorite day of the week. Why wouldn’t they be? He can eat whatever he wants and do whatever he wants, and no one is there to tell him not to. He can play games on his new phone for hours. Use his powers to shoot paper balls into the trashcan from across the apartment. As long as he sticks to the bigger crowds, he can go out to the park without anyone asking where his parents are. He makes occasional trips to the comic book store and get the newest released manga. The money is his mother's, snuck out of the stash she keeps under the socks in the top right drawer.

It probably isn’t a good thing to be doing, taking her money like that. It feels wrong and sometimes he chickens out and puts it back. The thing that keeps him going back for more is that she has never once actually told him not to do it. She rarely tells him he isn’t allowed to do anything. If she knows he is doing it she either doesn’t care, or…Teru doesn’t know what. She doesn’t know or she doesn’t care. Maybe he wants her to catch him.

The only things he is not allowed to do are thus:

One, get into trouble. Whatever that really meant. Trouble with who? Her? His teachers? The law?

And two, make a scene. His mother detests being embarrassed. She does not tolerate any behavior she deems to be less than his absolute best.

So he takes her money and smiles his most polite smile and greets everyone like the perfect gentleman he is. His manners are impeccable, his laughter is innocent, and no one suspects a thing.

Teru does not get into trouble. Trouble finds him when he is nine and three quarters. That’s important because he missed the cut off date and he is going to be the first in his class to turn ten. Ten is a big deal and he gets to do it first. He can’t wait to see the surprise on everyone’s faces.

Trouble finds him when he is at home and minding his own business, taking a wet, slushy Saturday to try to beat his old best score in his game and daydream about what kind of birthday cake he can bring in to class in just a few months. He wants fun-fetti. Everyone likes fun-fetti. It isn’t his favorite, exactly, but Himari brought fun-fetti cupcakes in last week and it seemed like the whole class hounded her all day for the recipe her mom used.

He doesn’t really understand that trouble has found him though. Not for a little while.

What he does understand is that for the first time ever, he is home alone and there is someone knocking at the door.

It's loud and jarring and more than a little unsettling.

Teru pauses his game and stays very still, like the person on the other side would be able to see him if he moved. Nothing happens. He side-eyes his bedroom door, bites his lip, and then ever so carefully sneaks to peer out into the hall.

The knocking happens again.

It could be a delivery service. Or a neighbor coming to talk with his mother. Or someone from school, and while that would be welcome, it’s very unlikely. There is really no reason for his aura to start coiling under his skin the way it is. Is there?

He waits, and something beyond the door swells. Teru doesn’t know what it is, but it doesn’t feel good. It feels a little like his own aura, and that in itself is startling. He’s the only psychic in his school. He’s heard that some others exist, but so few that half the people he meets shrug it off as a weird rumor or urban legend until he levitates something right in front of them. The energy beyond the door doesn’t quite match though, weak and wavering, whereas his is strong and clear and bright.

And then it’s gone. No one knocks again.

Teru stands in the hall for another ten minutes.

Someone knocks on the door every Saturday for the next three weeks.

It's creepy, yes, but nothing happens. They come at different times each week. Noon. Morning. Late afternoon. The same knocking. The same crappy aura. If anything, it's just annoying. It’s the fact that they only come when his mother is out that keeps making his palms sweat.

On the fifth Saturday, Teru can’t take it anymore. He’s frustrated, and annoyed, and it's almost his birthday and this guy is driving him crazy. With electric yellow leaking out over his hands, he stomps through the living room and jerks the door open.

“Can I help you?” he spits, hoping his mother doesn’t hear of this lapse in politeness.

The man on his doorstep is tall and lanky and has weird-ass eyebrows, and Teru instantly hates him. Without a word he steps into the apartment and hey, wow no, not okay.

“Hanazawa Teruki? It's wonderful to finally meet you in person. I’m here as a representative for a growing group of extraordinary individuals such as yourself.” He turns on his heel and holds his hands out, gesturing to Teru grandly.

“I didn’t say you could come in-“

“You’re not like everyone else. You’re above these ordinary people. Different. An esper.”

Teru squints. This man knows his name. Knows he is a psychic. Is potentially also a psychic. And has been what, stalking him? All kinds of red flags are going off in his brain. He needs to get this man out of his house.

The man with awful eyebrows continues like he is reading from a script, “I’m sure you have always known you didn’t belong with the common folk. They can never understand you. You belong with others with powers like yours. You belong with Claw, where we can teach you to hone your powers and make your mark on this world.”

The young esper withholds a flinch. He doesn’t belong with… No, that sounds all kinds of wrong. Maybe he isn’t close with his classmates and yeah, maybe he feels like it would be cool to have other psychics to talk to sometimes, but this man is seriously creepy. Teru’s fingers are getting itchy from reigning in his aura. The door is still open behind him. He could make a break for it, but there’s no guarantee the man won’t just hang out and wait for him to come back. Or follow him. Teru needs to do something himself.

“Ah, thanks, but I don’t think I’m interested in joining your club.” The words don’t come out as strong as he wants. “Could you please leave?” Why are they waiting until his mother is out to talk to him about this? It can’t be anything she would approve of. What on earth does he mean by ‘make your mark on the world’?

“Oh, why that’s too bad. You see, normally I would, however you’re a little bit of a special case.“ The man’s voice finally changes into something less monotone. He eyes Teru with bitterness. There’s jealousy there, and an anger Teru does not understand. “Claw has a special interest in you. A natural, huh? So young but with impressive control, you’re undeniably talented. I’m not supposed to come back empty handed.”

Teru has exactly one second to process, if I am a natural, are there unnatural espers? Can you make psychics? before the man whips a hand out, and Teru is wrapped in red energy. It shocks a yelp out of him. He’s never had anything but his own aura surround him and man, this one feels disgusting.

It's gross, but it's weak. It hardly takes any effort to shred it with his own vivid yellow. The man recoils, stumbling back into the coffee table.

Teru doesn’t know if he can grab people the same way he grabs inanimate objects, but he tries anyway. His aura responds immediately, energy enveloping the unwanted guest head to toe. He looks startled, his giant eyebrows flying up and making his forehead wrinkle.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you that no means no?” Teru says with a voice like honey. “I asked you to leave.”

He steps to the side and with a push the man’s shoes skid across the polished floor and right out of the apartment. Teru rushes forward and slams the door shut, locking it and only releasing his hold on the man outside once everything has clicked into place. Then he shifts his energy from the creep to the door, just in case the man tries to break back in.

There’s some muffled noise outside, and Teru pours more energy into keeping the door in place.

A minute later everything falls silent.

With the threat gone, Teru slowly sits down right there against the doorframe. Did someone just-? A group-? An organization just try to kidnap him?

It's then that his heart speeds up, throat tightening. When he looks down to where his hands are clenched around his knees, they’re shaking. He used his powers to force someone to do something. He could feel the man struggling against him. It didn’t feel good, but it saved him, right? That made it okay. It was to protect himself. That was self-defense and he hadn’t hurt the man or anything. He just. Put him somewhere else. Away from himself.

A shudder ripples through him at the sensation of being held by an unfamiliar aura.

There were other espers. Other psychics. Bad ones. And they waited until he was alone. He doesn’t want to be alone anymore. What if they come back?

Trembling fingers dig his phone out of his pocket. He only has a few contacts, and he doesn’t hesitate to click the top one. He curls over his knees and counts the rings. Twists his free hand into the fabric of his pants. Please, please, please answer. Please come home.

The tone stalls and lets out a beep, an automated voice instructing him to leave a message. He doesn’t. He doesn’t hang up either. The phone sits silent in his frozen hand until the message times out and the screen turns black.

Teru spends the fifth Saturday with his back to the door, reactivating his aura every time he hears footsteps.

Barriers, he thinks at some point in the early evening. I should learn barriers.

Teru doesn’t answer the door again, but it doesn’t matter because Claw stops knocking.

He learns barriers. He learns how to imbed his energy so deeply into an object it can’t be broken. He learns how to push his energy into his legs and move faster than anyone can track.

The door is replaced twice. His mother tells him that if he is going to have friends over, they need to be less rowdy. Teru bites back the retort on his tongue that he has never had a friend over in his life. That sounds too pathetic even in his own head. Instead he explains over and over what these Claw recruiters (Psychics. Kidnappers. Criminals.) keep spewing at him. She grounds him for lying to her.

She doesn’t believe him until he learns from online videos how to wrap burns. Then she is finally listening.

He is relieved until he realizes that his mother is both frightened and furious, and asks what he did to get on their radar. She talks about moving. The neighbors are gossiping. She re-wraps his arm with shaky hands and sends him to his room. He lays in bed and listens to her argue with his father over the phone.

They don’t move.

Claw doesn’t stop.

Teru feels safer at school than he does at home these days. Logically, he thinks, it would be much easier for Claw to grab him off the street on the way to or from school. But they don’t. They wait until he is home to come for him each time.

They wait until there is no one around to see. No one to help.

Teru joins the soccer team. He doesn’t have any love for the sport, but practice keeps him late most nights and weekend games keep him away from the house for hours. For a while the attacks slow. His schedule can be erratic on the weekends, practices more frequent around tournaments with fewer around holidays.

They catch him one Sunday morning when he is microwaving leftovers. Three of them this time. The leftovers are never eaten. The coffee table is broken. His bedroom (he tried to get away out the window) is a disaster.

He learns how to fight when surrounded. He learns how to break someone’s nose. He learns what a concussion feels like.

His mother is terrified.

She spends another two hours on the phone with his father. It’s a little while later that Teru’s cell phone pings with a message.

7:48pm
Are you alright?

Teru stares.

When was the last time his father actually talked to him? The screen swims and the light is abrasive, and Teru presses his face into his pillow to block it out. What should he say? He is… He doesn’t know what he is, but he wants help. He wants his father, his mother, anyone, to come fix this. He wants to stop looking over his shoulder every two seconds. He wants someone at school to notice the increasing amounts of bandages. But he apparently is not going to get that, so he needs to settle for second best. Should he say he’s fine and hope his father is proud of him, or say he isn’t and go for pity?

Either would be acceptable at this point.

He falls asleep before he can answer.

The next day he flunks a history test because the room is tilting and his eyes don’t want to focus. Somewhere near the end of the period he wonders why his mother didn’t take him to the hospital. It’s a fleeting thought though, because the more pressing issue is the fact that he left more than half of the questions blank on his paper and he isn’t allowed to get bad grades.

Teru tosses and turns all night, waking bleary and sweating in the early morning light. He has a fever. In a strange show of parental care, (she doesn’t know about the test yet) his mother tells him to stay home from school and get some rest. It would be heartwarming if it didn’t send dread creeping up his spine.

As soon as the door closes Teru is up and dressed, backpack haphazardly thrown over his shoulder. The walk to school feels like miles, but he is surrounded by other students. By other people. He isn’t alone. They can’t get him.

He spends the day curled in the nurse’s office. Teru politely declines the woman’s offer to call his mother and have him taken home.

“No, thank you. She is in a very important meeting today, and I don’t want to bother her. I’ll just rest here.”

It should bother him that it’s here that his muscles finally relax. With the harsh lights and the sterile smell and the periodic bells, he should be awake and miserable. Instead, Teru snuggles into the thin mattress and drops into the deepest sleep he’s had in weeks.

It’s an accident.

It’s Claw’s fault. They screwed up. They shouldn’t have been this sloppy. They should have known his mother was sick. They were stalking him, right? How in the world had they not known that she was home in bed all weekend?

“Hello? Yes, I need an ambulance-“

His mother’s body is crumpled on the floor beside him, her eyes closed but pulse steady. There’s purple and red starting to blossom on the skin around her knee and her temple. Her hair, up in a sloppy ponytail, is flared out behind her. There’s wood scraps tangled in the dark brown. Teru has never seen her this disheveled. She always looks impeccable. Immaculate. It's unsettling how human she seems like this. His throat is tight.

He hadn’t meant to do this, he had only meant to hit the Claw guy with the books, he hadn’t meant for his mother to come flying out of her bedroom and he hadn’t meant to panic and throw the whole bookshelf instead.

“-no, she’s unconscious. Yeah, I can stay with her-“

His aura is pinning the intruder to the floorboards with a crushing pressure. He isn’t sure what he is going to do with him. He’s out cold as well. Should he bring him to the police? Teru’s heart is beating so loudly in his ears he has to hold his breath to make out what the 119 operator tells him.

“We’re moving?”

His mother doesn’t look up from the box she is packing.

“Yes, isn’t that great? A fresh start just in time for you to go to middle school. It's perfect. Your father pulled some strings and got you in at Black Vinegar, isn’t that wonderful? It's got such a good reputation. Excellent instructors and a very impressive campus, you will just love it-“

Sometimes Teru wonders how she can say things with a smile and still make him feel so wrong. She isn’t looking at him. She hasn’t looked at him since she came home from the hospital with a knee brace and a grin that stretched her cheeks too far. It’s been weeks.

Teru watches her pack the kitchen plates too quickly. They clank against each other. No buffers between the glasses. She keeps talking. Meaningless words stream from her mouth without pause. She does not look up. She does not stop moving.

Teru backs into his bedroom and texts his father.

There is no reply.

Something is wrong.

Something is so very wrong.

The apartment is too small. There’s only one bedroom. One bedroom and a tiny kitchenette attached to one side. An equally tiny bathroom on the other.

His mother doesn’t bring any of her things up. They stay with the movers. All that comes up is his backpack and duffle bag. His one box of manga and another with his games and console. A single box of plates and bowls. Some towels. The box of non-perishable food from the pantry.

Teru stands in the doorway to the bedroom and struggles not to throw up. He does not know what is going on, but this is bad. This is wrong. He’s shaking but his throat has closed up and he can’t get any words out.

What’s happening?

“I have to help your father with some work stuff, okay? School starts next week, so you’ll need to get your new uniform from the cleaners. I left the ticket on the kitchen counter, okay? There's a whole packet for you. Don’t worry about the landlord, he’s very nice. All his emails will come to me, but you’re cc-ed in them so you can stay in the loop. Be good, all right? I’ll see you in a bit.”

His mother’s hand reaches out to pat his cheek. Her skin barely touches his, but he feels like he’s been slapped.

This is so wrong this is so wrong this is so wrongwrongwrongwrong-

The door closes with a very final sounding click and he is alone.

For three and a half days he does everything perfectly.

He unpacks the boxes. He picks up his uniform. He reads the packet. It’s full of new bank account information, more money than he has ever seen. He didn’t know his father made this much. He goes to bed at a reasonable hour and eats the soup at dinnertime.

Every night he calls his parents. First his mother and then his father. Then he texts them. Then he texts them again.

The fourth night he’s shaking too much to make the instant noodles. He can’t eat. He can’t- Where did they go? What did he do? Why is this happening? When are they- when is she coming back? How soon is soon?

What about Claw?

There are hysterical tears pouring down his cheeks before he can understand that the horrid noise he can hear is coming from his own mouth. His powers flare and the ramen explodes all over the table, dry noodle hunks clattering to the tile.

She’s going to come back, right? She has to. Isn’t this, like, illegal or something?

His eyes are wide, hands numb, and his heart is beating so fast- too fast- somebody help him. Somebody come get him, please.

Books come tumbling down off their place on the shelf. His blankets snarl into knots and his pillow shreds, feathers floating gently to the floor like snow.

It worked once. The memory vague and twisted and childish. He was probably wrong about what happened but he thought- he knew back then that he’d- he’d brought his mother home-

Teru screams, even louder and longer than his four-year-old self ever could have.

Pounding on the wall answers him.

“Shut up, its late!”

Teru slams a foot into the wall, the impact jarring his shin.

“You shut up!”

There’s no reply, and Teru gasps, chest heaving. There is still panic thrumming in his veins but it's turning cold. No one is coming.

He’s alone.

The first thing Teru does with the money his parents left him is dye his hair bleach blond.

He always thought it would look good on him, especially with his blue eyes. His mother would never have allowed it. It attracted too much attention. Made him stand out in a crowd. It wasn’t allowed in school and wasn’t proper.

He does it out of spite.

Look at what I did. Come yell at me. I did something you told me not to, come back and ground me, I dare you.

The walk to school is longer than his old one. It's not a good thing or a bad thing, it just is.

He walks the halls, whispers rising up around him. Good. His hair is attracting attention already. He looks handsome and he knows it, smiling at everyone and winking at the tallest girl in the hall. She blushes and he feels victorious. He blows her a kiss and she covers her face in her hands and her friends all laugh. They run off in a giggling cluster.

Causing a stir on his first day of middle school? That’s breaking one of the only rules his mother ever enforced. Come back and stop me, he challenges.

Teru charms his teachers, flatters his classmates, and gains somewhat of a reputation in less than a day. He’s always been good with manners and his smiles sparkle. He is off to a terrific start.

“What a Teru-fic day,” he says with a wiggle of his eyebrows. The group of students surrounding his desk chuckle and snort. Everybody loves a good pun.

The day ends and Teru changes his shoes and heads back towards his new apartment. He doesn’t get very far. A beefy hand reaches out from nowhere and fists in his jacket, swinging him around to smash his back against the stone wall of the school.

It doesn’t hurt. His reflexes are too good for that. There was a barrier an inch from his skin before the hand had even gotten a hold of him.

It's not Claw looming over him now, it’s a group of tough looking students. Second and third years if he had to guess. Their uniforms are all tastefully unkempt, sleeves rolled up and ties loose. One of them has a bandage on his cheek, but it's probably for show. Teru hasn’t heard of any fights happening around the school yet and he socialized with every person he laid eyes on.

He’s not impressed.

“All right, listen you little shit. I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but this is our school. No shrimpy little pretty-boy first year is going to screw that up, got it? You stay the fuck away from Rin. She’s mine.”

Teru pries the hand away from his jacket, doing his best to appear as bored as possible. It isn’t hard.

“You don’t know who I am? That’s fine. You will, though. I’m going to do as I please and you will not get in my way, got it?” These thugs are certainly not going to be his friends and it is better to have enemies than to have nothing. Plus there is something satisfying about the outrage and shock on their faces.

“You’re going to regret that.” One of them winds up dramatically for a punch.

Teru doesn’t let the bored expression fall from his face. He doesn’t move until the very last second, ducking the blow and striking out with one flat palm, his aura strengthening his shoulder, his elbow, his wrist. He hits dead center, the taller boy flying backward a meter or so before going down in a puff of dry dirt.

Two more of the gang members try to attack and end up dazed on the ground as well.

“Are you done?” he quips, putting his hands in his pockets. “I’ve got places to be.”

A few of them look like they want to throttle him.

It’s the black haired kid in the back that catches Teru’s eye. There's something in his expression that Teru isn't sure has even been directed at him before. It makes Teru's mouth go dry. It's respect.

“Now hold on, fellas. This kid just might be useful.”

Teru is two weeks from turning thirteen when he learns what a shadow leader is.

At first hurting other kids bothers him. They aren’t espers. They can’t really hurt him. He doesn’t like the twist of skin under his knuckles or the sound they make when he knocks the wind out of them. It hits a little too close to home. A little too much of a reminder that Teru knows what being hurt feels like. Claw seems to have taken a break now that he has moved, but he doesn’t expect it to last.

There is, however, a certain gratification in seeing others hurting on the outside as much as he hurts on the inside. It’s growing every day, and if he uses a barrier over his hands he can’t feel the skin, and if he talks over the wheezing he doesn’t have to hear it. He minds it less and less.

Teru goes to school, is a star student, becomes the best player on the soccer team, leads the toughest middle school gang in the city, and does everything he can to never be home. He ups his flirting and starts taking girls on dates. There is always enough money in his account and no girl has ever said no.

If he’s not home Claw can’t get him.

If he’s not home he won’t feel like he’s as empty as his apartment.

Sometimes Teru dreams of an empty planet. Of no people and no movement and nothing but abandoned buildings and silence so loud his ears ring for an hour after waking up in a cold sweat.

Claw finds him three months after his mother abandons him.

The man is violent, more erratic than the others they have sent. A little more vindictive.

Teru responds by hitting a little harder. Twisting a little more. There is a snarl on his face that feels so wrong, but it won’t go away and neither will the fury and frustration searing his insides.

It's after the threat has been taken care of that Teru curls into the mattress and realizes he wanted to hurt him. It wasn’t just that he didn’t mind it so much. He enjoyed it. It makes him feel sick and wrong, but feeling bad doesn’t make it not true.

There isn’t a single part of this that Teru likes, but stopping isn’t an option.

Six months after school starts Teru gives up calling his parents. He used to call every day. Then every three or four. Then every other week. He’d text or call and leave a message, pretending that they were just busy and that they honestly just couldn’t get to the phone. That they cared about whatever project he was working on in science.

Denial tastes like too-sweet candy. Cloying and thick. It is going to kill him.

So, he stops.

He stops calling. He stops texting. He stops emailing. He takes both phone numbers out of his emergency contacts. He doesn’t have any now.

He’s on his own.

Teru is halfway through his birthday breakfast (an apple and a fun-fetti cupcake) when his phone buzzes beside him on the table.

He blinks. That can’t be right.

His phone has been blowing up all morning. Half the numbers aren’t even programmed into his phone, but he knows they’re students. Gang members he can’t remember the names of. Less popular kids on the soccer team. Girls he took out for ice cream.

But he isn’t staring because he doesn’t know the number. He’s staring because the text notification says it's his father.

Teru doesn’t… Teru doesn’t know how to feel. He doesn’t know what to call the mix of hope and irritation and betrayal that's making him grit his teeth. Making his toes curl tight in his socks, pressing against the floor so hard it's starting to hurt.

It takes him a full minute to collect himself enough to open the text.

8:02am
Happy birthday kid. The big 13, huh? Congratulations!

This has to be some kind of sick joke.

He is fourteen.

The chair shrieks against the floor as he launches to his feet. The phone is out of his hand and whipping towards the wall, and it’s pure instinct that makes him snap his fingers to reinforce the device an inch before it makes contact. His cell phone doesn’t shatter, but it does put a dent in the wall.

Teru is seething.

Grabbing his school things with a vicious energy, he stomps out of the apartment. His cell phone flickers yellow and zips into his pocket. The slam of the door closing echoes down the hall.

Someone is going to pay for this, and if it can’t be his parents, he’ll find someone else.

Hanazawa Teruki stares at himself in the mirror.

And stares.

And breathes.

And stares.

He runs a trembling hand over his scalp. Gone. He should take a shower. Get the loose hair out of his gym clothes. He is starting to feel feverish already. A shower would help.

What has he been doing?

Teru slips down to sit on the cold tile floor of the bathroom. He feels like someone scooped his insides out and scrambled them together with his brain. He almost killed someone. Kageyama. He almost strangled Kageyama.

And he… he hadn’t even fought back. It hadn’t felt good to hurt someone who refused to fight. It wasn’t satisfying. It didn’t release any of the pressure boiling inside him. It had been horrible, and sickening, and why hadn’t he been able to stop himself? He just wanted to provoke Kageyama. How did it go so far?

Teru presses his forehead into his knees. When he blinks he can see the sun. An expanse of blue and white. He is nothing in the face of it. It should have been scary, flying above the clouds like that, but instead he’d been filled with an unfamiliar sense of peace. It was beautiful. Amazing. Maybe Kageyama hadn’t meant to do it, but he’d shown Teru something bigger than himself.

Kageyama. He's amazing.

He had seen right through him. Seen through everything Teru spent the last few years building and just. Seen him. Seen Hanazawa Teruki, nothing special. Just a lonely nobody. A kid.

Oh god, he's just a kid. A kid with no real friends and no family and no talents. He has nothing and that's maybe the most frightening thing of all. Kageyama said they were the same, but at the end of the day he went away surrounded by people who cared about him. That Body Improvement Club at least. Teru… well. His gang had run away from the scene. Teru left the school, alone. He walked home, alone. Is sitting here on the bathroom floor.

Alone.

Nobody cares about Hanazawa Teruki. Maybe never has. Maybe never will. It’s the thought he never lets himself think and now that he does, it hurts.

There are tears welling in his eyes and it's like his mother has left him all over again. At the end of the day the only people who have any real interest in him belong to a criminal organization. It's frightening in a way he doesn’t have words for. All encompassing.

This isn’t what he wants.

He moves himself into the shower like a robot. His fever rises in the hot water. Everything feels hazy as he pulls on pajamas and crumples onto his bed with the lights on.

His sleep is filled with empty rooms and coasters and couch cushions on the ceiling. He wakes, gasping, his face wet with tears or sweat, he doesn’t know. He drifts back to sleep. Dreams of shattered bookshelves and phones ringing and energy ripping right through his barrier. Wakes. Rinse, cycle, repeat.

Teru doesn’t go to school. Who cares about his perfect attendance record? It doesn’t matter. He’s sick and he can’t bring himself to leave the apartment. If Claw comes for him now he’s toast, but they don’t, and Teru doesn’t have the energy to wonder why.

His fever burns through him for three days, an incredible failure.

When it finally recedes, he feels like he has sweat years of his life away. Literal gallons of past weight. His head feels clearer than it has in lord knows how long. He’s not angry.

Teru showers and stands in front of his dresser. He isn’t going to school today either, it's already nine thirty and the tardy isn’t worth it. He can wear what he wants, whatever that is. For the most part he wears what people will like him most in. The most flattering things. The clothes that match his eyes and his hair and his fake personality. It's been so long since he’s worn what he likes he isn’t really sure what that is anymore.

He pushes past almost everything in his closet, no, no, no, no-wait. His hands pause over something shoved towards the back. His mother never let him wear it. He can’t remember where it came from but it's there in his closet.

Teru tugs it off the hanger. A bright aqua t-shirt. There is an embroidered pineapple on the front pocket. It's soft between his fingers. It feels new. He doesn’t think he has ever worn it. He pulls it on now and a pair of his most worn jeans. He feels comfortable. More comfortable than he has been in a while, barring when he is wearing pajamas.

Looking in the mirror is surreal.

He looks different, and it isn’t just because the top of his head is shining. There’s something unsteady in the way he’s standing. The confident swagger is nowhere to be seen. He looks almost shy. It's baffling. There are bags under his eyes that he usually covers with makeup. His cheeks are blotchy from the shower. The person looking back at him is young. Raw.

That’s him.

There is a part of him that balks at it. That screams at the back of his mind to cover up the bright shirt and stand up straight.

There is another part of him that feels a little bit warm and a little bit wobbly.

But all of him agrees that the hair has to be fixed.

He pads to the kitchen, stomach growling. He’s barely had anything to eat for days. An orange sits innocently in his fruit bowl. That’s… that’s not a lot but it’s a start. He slides into a chair on the side of the table he normally avoids and peels the orange slowly. His laptop boots up beside him. Teru munches on the small breakfast and browses a wig website.

There are so many. And most of them would be okay. There are some that would be flattering, that would accent his face shape or match what his old hair looked like. He scrolls past those. As nice as that would be, they would only feed his ego and that- that isn’t what he wants. He doesn’t entirely know what he does want, but that feels like that’s not it.

Something in him jumps. It might be excitement. He hasn’t been excited about something in so long it feels foreign. A tiny smile tugs at his lips. It feels like the most genuine thing in years.

This wig is ridiculous.

He buys it immediately. Overnight shipping. He doesn’t even look at the price. It's his parent’s money anyway.

The sun crosses the sky above his apartment. He spends the day thinking. Thinking about what he wants. What he likes. What he should do now. It's uncomfortable. He’s alarmed at how many of those things he does not have an answer to. It's easier to think of things he does not want anymore.

Falsity.

He doesn’t want to be fake anymore. Kageyama had been real. Real and true and good. The first concrete thing he encountered in forever. Kageyama did not lie or flatter him. He was blunt and honest and Teru finds himself shocked by how badly he craves that. He doesn’t know how to do that himself but maybe he can try.

He can change himself into that. But how? He doesn’t have any role models. No one to ask advice of. Kageyama said he was trying to change too. Does he have someone to help him? He’s taking steps to change. Improving his body. Refusing to use his powers. Teru feels lost. He doesn’t need to improve his body. He doesn’t have anything against using his powers… though maybe he can tone down the showing off. That’s- that’s a start he guesses.

What does he want?

Friends.

The thought rocks him in its simplicity. He knows he doesn't want to be alone anymore and to do that he needs to have people that honestly care about him. He just doesn’t know how to find such people.

Kageyama had friends though. So…

Maybe if he is like Kageyama he can make friends? Kageyama is good. He didn’t want to hurt Teru even when he was (threatening him) being a colossal asshole. He is kind. Kageyama tried to apologize after putting the school back together. That wasn’t manners. That was genuine sorrow for causing Teru distress.

He was crying.

It twists something in Teru’s heart, the memory of Kageyama sobbing in the dirt. He caused that and he is ashamed. Teru promises to himself to never be the cause of that again. To make sure Kageyama will not experience that again if it’s in his power to stop it.

No one deserves to cry alone. He’s done it enough to know that.

School is weird when he goes back. Everyone talks about him, but it's because of the wig. He gets detention for having four unexcused absences. He tries to talk to the gang and explain that he doesn’t want to be their shadow leader anymore but half of them refuse to talk to him and the other half refuses his resignation. Where that leaves him, he isn’t sure.

Teru slips up more often than he would like to admit. He calls people commoners and uses his powers for petty things and cheats on his next test out of habit. But he feels bad about it after and maybe that’s something to be proud of.

It's progress.

Claw doesn’t show up for a long time until they do.

Teru sits cross-legged on his bed. It's three in the goddamn morning, he almost died multiple times tonight, he’s battered and exhausted and his wig is ruined, but he is smiling so widely it's bringing tears to his eyes.

His thumbs tap out a short message on his phone.

3:12am
I’m home, thank you for asking!

On some level he is aware that an adult making sure he got home safe shouldn’t move him the way this is. But it does. His chest is warm and his face is hot, and Kageyama’s shishou messages him back almost immediately.

3:13am
Good to hear it. Get some sleep, kid.

Shishou Reigen had offered to walk him back to his apartment if he could wait until the other two boys had been dropped off first. Teru had declined, not wanting to seem weak or needy in front of the most amazing, powerful, incredible person he’d ever met. (Not including Kageyama of course, he would always be the top of the top.) The man had seemed unsure about Teru’s decision and had asked if they could exchange phone numbers so he could ensure that Teru got home safely.

How could Teru have said no to that?

He has Reigen’s number. He has Kageyama’s number. The complete and utter defeat of the 7^th Division of Claw is just icing on the cake at this point.

Summer is here, hot and humid, and why doesn’t Teru have air conditioning? Why has he never bought an AC unit?

He lays on the floor and melts. Why does he live on the fourth floor? Who made that decision? Oh wait, he knows exactly who. Teru rolls onto his side, head pillowed on his arm and glares at the floor. His homework is done already. He’s bored. He’s…

He lets himself think it. He’s trying to be more honest.

Teru is lonely.

Summer break is so long. Six weeks. Forty days of nothing to do. He used to spend almost every waking minute out of the apartment so that Claw couldn’t track him. He didn’t really do anything, but he wandered and went to the park and watched the crowds. Sometimes he would buy himself ice cream or bring a manga with him.

Teru doesn’t want that this year. He pulls his cell phone out of his pocket and flips it open. His eyes slowly rove over Kageyama’s contact. It's been a few weeks since they saw each other. Since the 7^th Division. They exchanged numbers but Teru has been too nervous to say much. A ‘Hi! How are you?’ here and there, to which Kageyama would eventually reply, ‘I am good. Thank you.’

Teru hasn’t had the courage to say much more than that. To ask if he wants to hang out.

Summer might change that. Teru’s thumb hovers over the contact. What is he going to say? He doesn’t want to sound whiny. Maybe Kageyama goes away on vacation with his family? Is he being a baby for not wanting to be home alone? He used to do it so easily, why is it suddenly harder to bear this silence?

The phone flips shut and Teru eats a bowl of frozen yogurt, plays through his video game for the sixteenth time, and sweats a puddle on the floor.

Four days later he can’t take it anymore. He tried walking around downtown. He tried reading. He tried having music on. Nothing is helping. His apartment feels emptier than ever, he feels emptier than ever, and it's getting worse.

There's something inside of him that's always been there, but now it feels like it's truly awakened. It's stronger than ever and it's eating him alive. It’s a neediness he always thought was a cry for attention. For praise or flattery or an ego boost. Anything to make him feel important. Better.

Now he isn’t so sure, because he doesn’t want anyone to tell him his new wig looks nice, he just wants someone to say hi to him. To say, ‘Nice to see you!’ and actually mean it. He wants someone to see him like Kageyama did-

He wants to see Kageyama.

His feet take him to the Spirits and Such office. Honesty is pouring out of his mouth before he can stop and wonder if his words sound pathetic or not. Kageyama has that effect on him.

“I don’t really know what to do with myself.”

Before he knows it, he's in the back of a beat-up car with Ritsu. Kageyama is in the front because apparently he gets car-sick. Why does Teru find that endearing? Reigen is driving rather carelessly and waving his hands around while telling them that there's a giant cursed stag beetle they are supposed to exorcise.

“Keep your hands on the wheel, Shishou,” Kageyama keeps pointing out each time the car drifts a little too close to the edge of the road.

Ritsu looks like he swallowed a lemon.

Teru is very curious as to what exactly is going on. The middle seat is piled high with bug catching equipment, sunscreen, water bottles, and a whole bunch of wide brimmed hats. Where the hell did all this come from? A cursed beetle? Way out here in the country? Who would even care enough to call into the city for an exorcist? There is no way this is because Teru said he was lonely. There is absolutely no way. Reigen is nice to him and cares enough to text him here and there but this is a lot. Did he buy all this stuff when they were waiting for Ritsu to get to the office? Reigen said he needed to run to the store really quick but-

Teru swallows down the wave of wonder and the thrill of someone possibly caring enough to do this for him. It's probably for a case. Reigen wouldn’t lie to him. He crosses his arms and bites his lip and squashes his hopes. He and Ritsu are just here to help with a case. He shouldn’t get excited.

He doesn’t do a very good job of restraining his excitement once they get into the woods. It's breezy out here, the thick summer foliage smattering the grass in wavering shadows. It's beautiful and smells like dirt and salt and everything the city doesn’t.

Teru finds more bugs than any of them, eyes widening at all the different kinds. Their tiny legs tickle his palms and every time he shows Kageyama a new beetle Kageyama smiles at him. It makes him smile back, happiness unable to be contained. He feels freer here than he ever has. How did he never feel claustrophobic in his little apartment when the world was this open?

“Look, look, Reigen I found a giant stag beetle!” He thinks maybe he's being obnoxious, pushing his hands so close to the man’s face. But this one has fuzzy antennas and red and yellow stripes on its back and it's so shiny. It's so cool.

“Stag beetles have big pincers, Hanazawa,” Kageyama points out gently, coming to his side and peering at the bug.

“Oh.” He isn’t upset. Kageyama’s hair is shining in the sun and it looks very soft. It's awfully distracting, but he rips his attention away from Kageyama and searches the long grass. Another beetle crawls along a leaf near his knee and he cups his hands around it carefully, standing up and holding it out to Ritsu.

Kageyama's little brother has been doing nothing but watch Reigen with an unreadable look on his face this whole time.

“Hey look, I found a female rhinoceros beetle,” he says casually, like he has ever seen such a thing and could possibly recognize the difference between bug sexes.

It works.

“That’s a June Bug,” Ritsu deadpans, but there is a small quirk to his eyebrows like he might just be amused. He walks off to join his brother in hunting under a tree.

Teru watches Reigen point to what is very clearly a cicada and declare that it’s a Miyama Stag Beetle. Whatever the hell that is, if it even exists. He’s ignoring them for the most part, walking around importantly and loudly commenting on how crucial it is they find this cursed bug.

With his fingers twisting in the hem of his shirt, Teru lets himself think that maybe, just maybe, Reigen might be lying to them. It’s a thought that brings a lot of conflict to his heart. Lying isn’t good. His mother’s lies hurt. They were false happiness and fake smiles and acting like everything was fine when it so obviously wasn’t. They made him feel small and scared and sick.

Reigen is faking a case.

It should be a bad thing. It should make him want to leave. Teru is trying to change. Be good. Be honest. Lying isn’t something he wants to do or be around anymore.

Why is this potential lie making him feel warm and cared for? How is that possible?

He kicks the worry away a minute later when Reigen screams over a cockroach and Teru uses his powers to throw the offending creature off into the forest before Kageyama can get there. Liar or not, Teru is grateful that Reigen brought him out here and hell if he is going to let a bug torment him.

They leave the woods and Teru finds himself at the beach.

“-In the meantime, feel free to play around.” Reigen waves his hand around and gestures, well… everywhere.

Kageyama shoots off towards the ocean with a light in his eyes Teru is delighted to witness.

He lowers himself into the sun baked sand, leaning back and digging his fingers in. It's coarse and gritty and hot.

“Are you coming?” A shadow with huge, spikey hair looms over him, cutting out the sun.

Teru shakes his head. His wig shouldn’t get wet, especially with saltwater. That, and he is starting to feel a touch overwhelmed. Reigen is lying. Maybe for him.

“Suit yourself.”

With the slurred sound of footsteps retreating towards the water, Teru lays himself down in the sand and stares up at the sky. He thinks of flying over the clouds and the peace of being thrown up over the earth.

At some point, somewhere around the third roller coaster at the amusement park they visit after the beach, Teru forgets to worry about the lying. There's wind whipping his face and his stomach is flipping and this is way, way better than using his powers to fly around. Kageyama won’t ride the coasters, but encourages his little brother to go on as well so that Teru doesn’t ride alone. It's sweet and the look of begrudging enjoyment on Ritsu’s face is kind of hilarious. Teru cannot fathom why he is trying so hard to not have fun.

One of the only things that doesn’t make Kageyama nauseous, ironically, are the bumper cars.

“I think it’s because I'm driving and not Shishou,” he says as they wait in line. He pays no mind to the offended scoff from Reigen behind him. “Do you like them, Hanazawa?”

His voice is innocently curious and Teru can’t help but think that with wind ruffled hair and pink on his cheeks, Kageyama looks cute.

“Hanazawa?”

“Ah! Yes, um-“ Teru stops himself. He doesn’t want to sound pathetic. He really, really wants Kageyama to like him but he has to tell the truth. “I mean, I probably will. I haven’t actually been on them before.”

Kageyama just looks at him. There is something going on behind those dark eyes, but it isn’t judgement or pity.

“Have you never been to an amusement park?” Kageyama asks.

Teru’s face feels weird. He thinks it tried to flush and go pale at the same time. Reigen and Ritsu are looking at him in interest.

“Ah, um, no. No, I haven’t.”

Teru doesn’t hear his response. He is too busy trying not to notice the way Reigen is looking at him. It isn’t judgement, but it is calculating. Teru can almost hear the gears churning in the man’s head and Teru forces himself to look away.

Music becomes a constant presence in the apartment. There is always some kind of background noise now. Silence is not welcome. Quiet is not enjoyable, is not peaceful. It's grating. The music helps.

Teru visits the Spirits and Such office more often. He was given an open invitation after all.

Before everything hits the news and the shit hits the fan, Teru hears of the fight Kageyama and Reigen have. He hears about it from Kageyama himself when he comes over for the first time.

(The Claw incident does not count as having Kageyama over. He didn’t have a say in the matter. That wasn’t hanging out.)

Teru is proud of himself for reaching out and asking. He is nervous. He has never had someone over before and what if there is some rule or social conduct thing that he doesn’t know about? He swallows his anxiety, asks anyway, and now Kageyama is here in his tiny apartment.

They don’t talk about Reigen though. Kageyama lays beside him on the floor and they play videogames for hours and eat all the junk food in Teru’s pantry. Teru wants to officially call them friends. His insides are all aflutter with nerves the whole time and he jumps whenever Kageyama brushes up against him. Is having friends always this high stress? Maybe it will go away in time. Yeah. That’s probably it.

“Shit.”

It's all he can say for a long time.

His apartment is in shambles. There is still a thin stream of smoke trailing up from where the TV used to sit. His bed is gone. His desk is debris scattered across the floor.

There's something rising up in him, a cold, shaky unknown.

“What am I going to do?” he mumbles to no one. “Where- what…? Where am I going to live?”

His hands tremble as he crosses the room hesitantly and carefully picks at the ruined clothes spilling out of his closet. Almost everything is charred. His backpack might still be in one piece, tucked on the hook behind the door. Might be.

A sudden, terribly uninvited thought occurs to him and he freezes.

The landlord is going to tell Mother. He has to. He has to tell her and I- Oh no. No, no, no, no. What if she comes back now and she might- She might have to for paperwork or something- insurance, right? Shit. She is going to see me. See my hair. This is a huge scene, I caused so many scenes. I got detention. Oh god, oh god… I’m in so much trouble.

She hasn’t spoken to him since she got him this apartment. Maybe she won’t come back. Maybe she won’t care. But is that better? He needs a new home. He needs an adult to sign a lease. He's a minor.

Panic claws at him for hours. Holds him immobile on his knees on the floor. He has to do something. He has to fix this. What is he going to do, he doesn’t know what to do, oh god, he needs-

It takes a long time for his numb hands to drag his phone out of his pocket and select a contact.

It only rings once.

“Teruki, it's almost four in the morning. What’s going on?”

Teru’s voice is a gasp.

“I need help.”

Reigen picks him up at four-thirty am and they are back in his (just as tiny) apartment by five. Teru can’t stop shaking. Can’t stop muttering about his mother. Is she going to kill him or just never respond? Which is worse? He thinks, very deep in the back of his mind, that he's scaring Reigen. That’s fine. He's scaring himself too. He's scared.

He stays with Reigen for two weeks. Every day his mother calls. Every day the sight of the phone ringing makes Teru want to throw it out the window. Every day Reigen calmly picks it up, walks out onto the balcony, and takes care of it. Teru never hears a word.

Reigen tells him to let an adult handle this. Let him handle this. Teru just needs to worry about getting himself a new school uniform and some new clothes.

Teru doesn’t know how to let an adult take care of him. Living with Reigen is an intense mix of heaven and hell. He both loves the sound of someone else nearby and also cannot stand being told what to do. Waking up to a hot breakfast made by someone else is a distant memory and now it’s here again and he is grateful. He also feels smothered. Feels like every day the apartment gets smaller and he has a new, growing sense of claustrophobia. Reigen answers Teru’s phone and Teru both wants to kiss him for it and also slap the phone out of his hand and demand to know what's going on.

Reigen tells him it's taken care of.

What is? What is he doing? What is his mother doing? Is she coming back? Is she angry? What did the landlord say?

The feeling that he has lost control of his own life escalates until he accidentally screams at Reigen over lunch.

The man takes it too well. He's too understanding. Too gentle. It’s too much. Teru is going to drown in care. He wants to cry. This is all too soon. Too much change. He’s overwhelmed.

Reigen nods and slowly, in no uncertain terms, walks him through it.

His mother will sign any new lease Reigen sends to her. She will sign electronically. She will still pay the rent. She will not contact Teru directly. She has to go through him first, and Reigen will pass on any message he deems appropriate. Any deviation and Teru can make the choice to report her for neglect. Reigen is ready to go to court over this.

Teru sobs into a bowl of noodles and the next day they go apartment shopping.

Teru lays in the dark, as still as he possibly can. His face is burning. His heart is hammering. He can’t scream, he can’t scream, everyone is asleep around him. It's his first group sleepover. He should be thanking his lucky stars over and over for these kind people for including him. The hot springs are amazing. The food has been incredible. He gets to spend time with Kageyama-

Is there anyone you like, Kageyama?

How had those words come out of his mouth so casually? In front of his brother. In front of Serizawa. And what- oh good lord what had been that sound that came from him? That light, breathy little giggle? He told Kageyama it was nothing to be embarrassed about. What the actual hell, Teruki, how could you be such a hypocrite? You’re the one that's embarrassed.

But Kageyama’s adorably red face just might have been worth it.

He does scream into his pillow the night he tells Kageyama he is handsome.

“Shut up!” There is banging on the wall.

“You shut up!” He punches the wall back, unsteady laughter bursting from him.

Teru has a very strange relationship with the man next door.

The broccoli is suspicious. Teru investigates.

He wakes up in his apartment with no memory of the past week. It should be alarming, but there is a vague sense of peace that roots itself deep in his mind and tells him not to worry about it.

He blinks.

There is one moment of clarity in the haze in his brain.

Kageyama was the most amazing person on earth.

Teru curls in on himself. Drags his hands down his flushed face. This crush might just be the death of him. Kageyama makes him feel good in a way no one else ever has. He is sweet and gentle and strong and caring and kind and everything he does makes Teru want to be a better person. Makes him want to be someone Kageyama can be proud of.

Teru has changed himself so much in the past six months. He’s made so much personal progress. He still messes up sometimes. Still catches himself being fake or cocky or condescending. But he also learned how to be softer. How to be understanding. How to be patient. He learned that the world is huge, and everyone is just a person living in it.

He learned that Kageyama likes milk, and cats, and frogs. He now knows that Kageyama gets car-sick and loves yakiniku. He knows that Kageyama would do anything for his little brother.

Teru also learned about himself.

He likes crazy bright colors and patterns that make normal people’s eyes hurt. He likes wearing scarves and leggings with shorts over them. He likes rock and party style music. He learns that he never really had a favorite animal, but he thinks he could try to like cats too. Frogs weird him out a little.

Teru learns that he likes being genuine. He likes laughing, and spending time with Kageyama and he wants to do more of both.

Teru is sure that he can never express to the other esper how grateful he is that he rescued Teru from a hellscape of fake smiles, manipulation, and isolation. He has friends now. Plural. His phone is gaining more contacts. Kageyama was the catalyst to start it all. His role model.

He wants nothing more than for Kageyama to be the happiest, most loved person on earth. He deserves it more than anyone. He thinks maybe this massive feeling inside his chest just might be love. But that is a thought too intimidating and vast to dig into.

He isn’t going to let himself think about that for now.

It's early March when ‘the incident’ happens. Teru upholds the vow he made to himself last June. He does not let Kageyama cry alone. He does everything in his power right up until he passes out.

He does not get a failure fever.

Kageyama tells him that he was the one that woke him up and made him start to fight for control. That he is so thankful for everything Teru did and can never express how much it means to him that Teru saved all the people he had hurt. That he had tried so hard for him. He cries when he says it, and though Teru can’t stand the sight of tears on that cherished face, sometimes crying is good for you.

“I was just returning the favor” he says, ducking his head to look Kageyama in the eye. “You saved me from myself a while ago, Kageyama.”

“Shigeo.”

Teru doesn’t get a fever, but he does spend another week with Reigen because he has a concussion and generally over-exerted himself in basically every way possible. He sleeps a lot and eats a lot and doesn’t mind being told what to do so much this time.

Reigen checks on him frequently. Even when Teru is pretending to be asleep. He comes by the couch as quietly as he can and smooths the blankets, tucks them higher, rests a hand on Teru’s forehead. It makes Teru’s eyes burn with withheld tears. He won’t cry. He won’t. It's so deliberately caring though, and every time Reigen walks near him, Teru finds himself suddenly overcome with the desire for the man to touch him. A hand on his shoulder. A pat on the back. Anything.

The intensity of it scares him. Reigen isn’t his dad or even a father figure. He is a friend and a mentor and Teru shouldn’t be projecting on him. At least that’s what he thinks is going on. His father was never around much so he is craving parental care. Sure.

It makes enough sense that he makes peace with it on some level.

He has daddy-issues. Probably. Mommy-issues would make more sense, but who the hell knew how the human brain worked.

Teru doesn’t seek out the touches. He isn’t a little baby and he doesn’t need to be coddled. Right? He's almost fifteen. If Reigen ruffles his hair? Great. If he doesn’t? Teru is not going to complain.

Teru goes home and suffers.

He has been completely ruined for being alone. He can’t do it anymore. There is a ravenous monster inside of him that will not be sated. He wants to be around the people he cares about all the time and he can’t squash it down.

The music isn’t working anymore. TV talk shows don’t cut it. He is so lonely it aches, and what the actual hell, why is this getting worse now that he actually has people?

Shigeo (He loves being able to call him that now, and Shigeo calls him Teruki. Apparently, the jump to Teru is too much for right now.) comes over most weekends. They talk and play games and watch movies and when he is there Teru is on cloud nine. He is happy and his heart is light, and he smiles so much his face hurts. They laugh quietly in the dark and finally ask Shigeo’s mom if he can stay over when he misses the train one night.

He does.

Teru doesn’t have a futon. The couch is too small to ever ask someone to sleep on. That really only leaves one option.

“I don’t mind,” Shigeo says, face pink and staring at his socked feet.

What comes out of Teru’s mouth is supposed to be, “Me neither,” but doesn’t sound anything like real words.

Shigeo goes a little pinker and Teru might just die.

They pop in another movie and move up to the bed. Teru feels like his body has been replaced with a magnet. Any time Shigeo gets anywhere near him he notices himself leaning in. His eyes catch every move of Shigeo’s hands, of his feet. He wants to hold his hand. Badly. He wants to brush his fingers though Shigeo’s rumpled hair. It's so difficult to stop himself from just reaching out and doing it.

It's not new.

It's been happening for a while. Just a little here and there and then stronger, more frequent, and now it's unbearable. It's ten times stronger than what was going on with Reigen and Teru can’t rationalize it. This isn’t daddy-issues. He has a massive, big fat crush on Shigeo, yes. But this feels weird. This isn’t like the butterflies he gets when Shigeo smiles or looks proud or says something sassy about Reigen. This is a craving in his skin to touch. Not touching is agony.

He thinks fleetingly that he is being a creep. But it's not- it's not inappropriate, he isn’t even craving a kiss or anything. Just hugs and hands and touching. Something. Anything.

The movie ends and they dance around each other, picking out extra pajamas for Shigeo to wear and taking turns in the bathroom. It's nervous and awkward and Teru’s heart is going to burst at the sight of the smaller boy with the legs of his sweatpants rolled up.

They crawl into bed and Teru makes sure there is a slice of space between them. He is not going to make this uncomfortable for Shigeo. He refuses.

They mumble about nothing for another half an hour before neither one of them can keep their eyes open. The conversation becomes stilted and stalls, the room quiet except for their breathing.

“Mm, Shigeo?” Teru ventures after a minute. He isn’t sure what he is going to say.

There is no answer. The bed is a bit cramped, it's only a twin after all, and Teru is stuck between Shigeo and the wall. With a little shuffling he can turn onto his side and look at his friend’s outline in the dark.

Shigeo is completely relaxed. His eyes are closed, and his chest rises and falls evenly. He’s so cute Teru can’t stand it, but what he can’t stand more is this persistent yearning to touch him. They're so close that Teru can feel the heat from his skin and it's sending his brain into overdrive.

He is so close.

Teru’s hand reaches out before he can stop himself this time, the backs of his fingers brushing feather light to Shigeo’s own. It's electric and Teru gets tunnel vision, his heart skipping a beat at the sensation of warm skin on his.

“Hmm?”

Teru jerks away, horrified at his own actions. What the hell is he doing? He is being creepy, waiting until his friend is asleep to touch him. That sounds so wrong. What the heck, what the heck is wrong with him? He has got to figure this out.

“Ah, sorry!” he whispers hurriedly, turning his whole body away to push himself into the wall. “Goodnight.”

“Mm, night,” Shigeo breathes.

Teru doesn’t sleep.

After Shigeo leaves the next morning, Teru rubs at his tired eyes and stares down at his computer screen. He types in what’s going on the best he can without sounding like a complete perv.

His Mobgle results roll in.

Touch starvation

Skin hunger

Contact deprivation

Something in his chest quivers, ramping up to a substantial tremor the further he reads.

The serious and long-lasting effects of the lack of physical contact.... Skin to skin contact being crucial in not only physical, but mental health… Touching releases stress, calms nerves and anxiety, promotes healthy relationships, builds trust between friends and family…

Teru shuts the laptop with a snap.

When was the last time someone hugged him? He doesn’t… It must have been his mother but- How long ago was that? Years, at the very least. She had never been a very tactile parent. His father was… away. Teru didn’t have friends to casually hug or wrestle around with. Claw was the only ones he could rely on being physical with and that was such a negative reinforcement.

He swallows forcefully, trying to calm. How does he fix this? He can’t just go around touching everybody, that’s not okay, so what? He doesn’t know what to do with his information. The laptop opens back up, and he digs into the articles. The websites.

Okay, okay, some of these things he can try.

Nice to know he didn’t have Reigen related daddy-issues after all.

Getting a manicure is very soothing, he admits. The light blue nail polish shimmers in the sun and the hand massage is relaxing. It helps a little, but it isn’t enough.

He gets his hair re-dyed and cut. It's growing back and different lengths and needs to be colored anyway. He books an appointment and tries to focus on the woman’s hands. She's very gentle, and the shampoo and rinse kind of makes his heart flutter, but it's not the same. Like the manicure, it's nice but it isn’t really satisfying.

The sites had said to reach out to loved ones.

He doesn’t- He can’t-

Now that he knows what is going on, spending time with Shigeo is torment. His brain turns to mush and he can’t remember what their previous levels of contact were. Didn’t he put his arm around his shoulders sometimes? Did they brush hands when they walked home from school? How close are they supposed to be sitting in the MobDonald’s booth? He’s overanalyzing every infinitesimal interaction. He doesn’t want to make Shigeo uncomfortable. They’re friends. Very good friends. The best (First. Only.) friend he has ever had. He can’t mess this up being clingy or overbearing or forcing himself on Shigeo.

He can’t ask-

The next Friday Shigeo comes over for their weekly videogame session and Teru thinks he may have a heart attack, he is so stressed.

“Are you okay, Teruki?” Shigeo’s eyebrows are furrowed in concern.

Teru nods. He doesn’t trust his mouth.

“Are you sure? You look a little red. Maybe you have a fever?” Shigeo reaches over the specifically designated no man’s land between them and presses his palm to Teru’s forehead.

His touch is like fire. If fire could be good.

Teru’s stomach clenches and every single one of his nerves is screaming in both alarm and bliss. He wants this to go on forever, but the longer Shigeo holds his hand there, the less sanity Teru has to cling to. It's unravelling him.

He ducks his head and laughs. It sounds garbled. Choked. There is a hand shaped cold spot on his face now and Teru wants nothing more than to snatch Shigeo’s hand and put it back. Or just hold it. Or throw caution to the wind and burrow himself into that cozy looking hoodie and die.

“I’m fine!”

“…If you say so.”

The hand lowers from Teru’s sight and he keeps his head low. He’s sucking back tears. He understands that he is craving touch the most from someone he trusts and treasures. He does. The websites all agreed that getting gentle physical attention from someone you already bonded with was the best remedy. But- but this is Shigeo and if he fucks this up-

He doesn’t want to be alone anymore-

He can’t-

He shouldn’t-

“I don’t think you're okay.” Shigeo’s soft voice cuts through his mental screaming. “I understand if you don’t want to talk about it, but I think it’s okay to not be alright.”

Teru doesn’t know what to do. Shigeo is looking at him in such frighteningly sincere concern.

“I…”

Shigeo leans in when Teru’s voice is barely a whisper. He can’t do this anymore. He-

“Can I have a hug? Please?”

There is a touch of surprise on his friend’s face. Teru holds his breath. He can’t take the words back out of the air. The videogame is paused beside them, when had Shigeo done that? God, Teru’s hands are sweaty.

Shigeo nods then, and puts his controller off to the side, raising his arms up like Teru could reach out and hug him equally as easily. He can’t. Teru stares at the offer. His own arms won’t rise. His hands are stuck in his lap. This is what he wants, right? Why can’t he move?

Shigeo fixes the problem for him, scooting closer on the mattress and very carefully, very gently, pulls Teru towards him. He wraps his arms around him and Teru’s face ends up pressed into his shoulder. It’s soft and sweet and warm and better than Teru could have ever imagined. He's shaking, his breaths are coming out in gasps. Shigeo is barely touching him. This is so, so gentle, but it feels like all his nerves have been electrified. The only things in his mind are Shigeo's hands on his back and the puff of breath on his neck. Finally, finally, Teru brings his arms up to hug back.

It’s even better. So nice, to be able to fit so snugly against another person in fact, that hot tears well up and drip down his cheeks. He isn’t sad. He doesn't really think he's crying. The tears are just there, and his heart is beating so quickly, but he's calm. He’s calming down the longer this goes on. It’s amazing. Shigeo is amazing. Teru can’t believe Shigeo can make him feel like this. Is willing to help him like this.

He shudders and suddenly grips Shigeo with all his strength. Tries to pour all his gratitude out in one gesture.

Shigeo startles a little, a tiny “oh?”, and then he squeezes Teru back with just as much ferocity.

And oh god, he wasn’t crying before, but he is now. Before had been sweet and tender and lovely, but this is reassuring and comforting and holy shit it feels like Shigeo is squishing all the bad feelings right out of him.

Teru sobs. He twists his fingers into the fabric of Shigeo’s sweatshirt and hangs on for dear life. He can’t get close enough, can’t press close enough and every time he tries, Shigeo hugs harder. Teru can feel Shigeo's ribs pressing against his, and it’s getting a little hard to breathe but neither of them let go.

“Did you have a bad day?” Shigeo sounds sad, sympathetic.

Teru shakes his head.

“Oh. Hm.” Shigeo turns his head to the side and it makes his hair sweep over the back of Teru’s neck.

He shivers.

They don’t move. Shigeo doesn’t let go and Teru can feel his arms starting to tremble from holding him so tightly. He almost feels bad about it, but this is so heart-wrenchingly soothing that Teru just can’t.

“Your parents don’t live here,” Shigeo says when Teru’s crying peters out into something quieter.

He makes a sound of agreement.

“And they have not for a while.”

A nod.

“My dad gives good hugs,” Shigeo says, and Teru is momentarily confused. “I don’t think mine are as good, but if you want to hug me you can. Again, I mean.”

“You don’t mind?” Teru sniffs. He doesn’t want to let go, but the promise of more hugs might be able to convince him to.

“No. It would be nicer if you were happy, but this is nice.”

Teru couldn’t agree more. A wet laugh bubbles past his lips.

“This is really nice.”

Shigeo is noticeably more tactile after that. He sits closer, leans closer, lets their hands and knees and elbows brush and lets Teru hug him as much as he wants. Teru doesn’t actually hug him as much as he really would like, because maybe that would mean never letting him go. But he does hug often, and Shigeo is right, it is way better when they’re both happy.

It doesn’t fix the persistent craving to be touched, but it helps. Starts chipping away at the mountain of an issue he didn’t know he was carrying around.

The summer passes. There are dozens of sleepovers, terrible movies, more trips to the beach and a return to the amusement part, just the two of them. Shigeo smiles wider and wider every day and Teru learns how much he can laugh before his sides cramp up.

It’s a cold September.

Now that Teru is allowed to touch and hug Shigeo, the idea of kissing him finally rears its head for real. It was sort of a hazy pipe dream before, but these days they are so close and sometimes Shigeo blushes and forgets what he is talking about when Teru gives him a playful wink. That can’t mean nothing.

And then Shigeo grabs his hand, the entire dead bush behind them bursts into bloom, and something monumental has changed.

They feed a bunch of spirits on the side of the mountain with Shigeo’s grandmother somewhere nearby. Shigeo invites him to dinner to meet his parents. Teru is so nervous he thinks he is going to pee and he covers it up by talking so much Shigeo’s father stares and so does Ritsu.

He has to do it all over again two weeks later when Shigeo changes his mind and wants to introduce him again as his boyfriend. Teru sweats and thinks, somewhat hysterically, that it's only fair they do this twice with Shigeo’s family, because they certainly aren’t going to do it with his.

Shigeo sleeps over sometimes on the weekends, but his parents are starting to side eye them, and yeah, he is sixteen. Shigeo's birthday is right around the corner. Teru kind of gets it. He doesn’t know if they know there is no parental supervision at his house and is not going to be the one to tell them. They compromise by having Teru sleep at the Kageyama house instead, and Shigeo has to keep his door cracked.

Both boys are fine with that.

The problem of Teru’s stupid, empty apartment doesn’t go away. Everything is at zero or a hundred these days. Teru is either perfectly content to call Shigeo before bed and go to sleep, or lays awake clutching his cell phone because he is alone and the music still isn’t really working.

He puts more pillows in his bed and leaves the TV on at night and that works for a little bit.

Teru is a little afraid that he is getting too reliant on Shigeo. Addicted. He knows that isn’t good for either of them. He spends the next week figuring out some hobbies. He allows himself to look into fashion more. Joins a crafting club at school. Makes more acquaintances through it. They aren’t friends yet, but they could be some day down the line, so that’s progress.

That helps more than the pillows.

One night at the beginning of their first year of high school Teru dreams of microwaves popping. Dreams of slamming his hands against the front door. Of couch cushions on the ceiling and Claw nearly burning him alive and Shimazaki putting his head through a car window. Of screaming in an empty house and no one in the world caring.

He wakes up nearly hyperventilating and the apartment is empty.

He doesn’t remember dialing. Doesn’t see what time it is until Shigeo is at the door a few minutes later, still in his pajamas, hair a mess and face a little green.

They curl together in Teru’s mess of a bed, pillows and blankets in piles in the corners. He must have been moving around a lot. Shigeo runs his hands through Teru’s hair and Teru talks.

He talks and talks and talks. Of late-night trips to the mall and trips to the spa and of telling him to use his powers instead of scratching the floor. Of birthday texts with the wrong numbers and Reigen policing all their interactions. He talks until his voice sounds like a smoker’s and he runs out of words.

“You didn’t deserve to be treated that way. You don’t. You know none of that is your fault, right Teru?” Shigeo is angry. Shigeo is angry, but not at Teru, and this might be the most beautiful thing Hanazawa Teruki has ever seen.

It gets better.

Teru isn’t sure what Shigeo said to his parents but he is invited for dinner twice as often after that. He stops having to wear so much makeup because his acne starts to clear up, and Teru thinks it might be because of a significant decrease in instant ramen cups.

It gets better when he has Tome-chan’s number in his phone, and Shou’s (when did that get there, he doesn’t remember), and Ritsu’s (whose contact says otouto-kun, and Ritsu is so mad), and Serizawa’s.

It gets better when he spends afternoons that Shigeo has Body Improvement Club hanging out in Reigen’s office. The man always has some menial task for him to do. Watering the plants, organizing the closet, pulling out old files. Once in a while he takes him out on job and shows Teru how to crowd please without ruining his sense of self.

It gets better when Shigeo has an extra toothbrush and a set of pajamas and clothes in Teru’s bathroom.

It gets better when he has an extra toothbrush and a set of pajamas and clothes at the Kageyama house.

It gets better when Mrs. Kageyama finds out about his parents after the Mother’s Day Incident. She says the same things Reigen said two years back and reaffirms to him that what his mother did to him was not only illegal, but cruel, and if Teru is trying to move forward and does not want to press charges, that is his choice and she won’t interfere. She wants to though. There is righteous fury in the lines on her face, and Teru kind of loves her for it. For these people getting angry and wanting to fight for him. She lets him leave that night with a copy of the house key and an open invitation to the living room couch. Not to Shige’s room, she squints at him, I’m not an idiot. But the couch is soft and worn and always has a funky, polka dot fleece draped over the back that Teru pointed out once at the store. There’s a bedroom pillow and sheets in the hall closet that are just for him.

Somewhere around their second year in high school Teru is lying beside Shigeo when he realizes he feels fine. He is not restraining himself from touching his boyfriend. There is no itch under his skin. There is no magnetic pull to hug him. A hug would always be nice, but that intense, desperate need is absent.

He blinks up at the ceiling and then at his hands.

“Shigeo?”

“Hm?” The other esper’s head pops up from where he had been reading a manga.

“I think the skin hunger is gone.” He rolls his head on the pillow and looks at Shigeo.

Shigeo's thin eyebrows furrow and he sits up from where he had been laying on his belly on the futon. He marks his manga and sets it down.

“It is?” he asks curiously and reaches out a hand. It pauses just short of Teru’s, silently asking permission.

Teru takes the hand in his. Shigeo’s hands have always been a little smaller, even when he had a growth spurt and Teru stalled out over the winter. His hands are warm and a bit callused from years of working out, and Teru adores them.

They feel wonderful, but there is no stinging, no electricity. No lurch in his stomach or urge to start crying and not let go ever. His head feels clear and light, and skin on skin is delightful. The effects of the touch starvation had been fading over time, but this…

“Yeah, wow. I- wow…”

Shigeo leans over him and cups his cheek, laying a kiss on his nose. Teru turns beet red and his eyes grow wide.

“Even now?”

Teru lets out a noise like nothing he has ever heard. It’s a burst of disconnected gibberish, laced with fondness and shock and so, so flustered. And then he starts to cry a little because he’s dramatic like that and while yes, that felt nothing short of heavenly, there is still no creature in him screaming for more.

“Oh my god,” he moans, covering his face with his hands.

There’s a muffled thump and a swear from the room beside them, and then three sharp bangs on the wall.

“Keep your hands off Nii-san, I’m right here! God!”

Teru scrambles to his knees, grabbing a rather embarrassed Shigeo and pulling him into his lap.

“Oh Shigeo! The love of my life! Kiss me!” he shouts, and then plants the loudest, most dramatic kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek with a resounding “Mwah!”

“I swear to god, Hanazawa, I will get you banished to the couch!” Ritsu threatens.

Teru opens his mouth to sass him back, but Shigeo slaps a hand over his mouth.

“Don’t test him, he’ll do it,” he whispers. “Teru is just joking, Ritsu! Nothing happened!” he calls, and then in a fit of mischievousness, moves his hand away from Teru’s face just to kiss him right on the mouth.

Teru lets himself think it now.

He loves Shigeo so much.

When Teru is almost nineteen, he gets into college. When he is almost nineteen, he and Reigen break his lease. When he is almost nineteen, Teru files for independence, even if it’s just a year earlier than if he would have waited to legally become an adult.

When they are almost nineteen, Teru and Shigeo move into an apartment together right by the campus.

There are two toothbrushes in the bathroom, two pillows on the (one) bed, two pairs of shoes by the door (that’s a lie, there’s a million and they’re all Teru’s), the polka dot fleece has migrated to their own couch, the walls slowly cover in pictures, and the pantry is full of (mostly) healthy food.

Teru goes to sleep every night to the sounds of Shigeo’s breathing.

Hanazawa Teruki is not alone.