Shigeo was completely and utterly alone.

He didn't even know why he was here. One moment, he was blasting away an enemy, and the next – he was facing the pitch blackness that was this void. For some reason, Shigeo felt like he had done something horrible – that he had done something inhumane. But he didn't. He protected, and that wasn't bad, that was good.

Yet, for some reason, something in this place said otherwise.

"You hurt Ritsu," it said, seeming to talk with agony in its voice. "You hurt my brother... You're awful."

Shigeo didn't know what this voice was talking about, but he knew it was lying to him. It spoke of this person, "Ritsu", who he had apparently hurt – but Shigeo didn't know anyone by that name. He knew no one, and no one knew him.

He simply had done what his instincts urged him to and had done so with little to no mistakes – sure, the crimson colour that had stained his face and hands weren't ideal, but it was only the result of his actions. That was nothing bad, was nothing awful or inhumane – he had simply done what he was supposed to, and that was that.

Shigeo wasn't sure why this voice was insisting otherwise – Shigeo had only done what was necessary. He didn't understand. Hadn't he done the right thing?

"No," the voice sneered. "You hurt people. You hurt them really, really badly. I hate you."

Hate. This voice hated him? Shigeo didn't really... like that, but it wasn't anything that upset him – the voice could hate him, if it wanted that. Shigeo didn't mind. After all, he did what was right – he didn't do anything bad, only the voice thought that, and the voice was just that: a voice.

A voice couldn't hurt him, not if there was nothing to hurt in the first place. It would disappear soon, anyway, and then Shigeo would simply just be in the void, by himself – and only himself. Being by himself, by this never-ending void – that was nice. The quiet was nice. The plane he found himself in – that was nice.

Once the voice had gone away, and once it was only Shigeo and the void, the entity stared out into the hollow pit and sighed. Sitting down and resting on his back, the entity rested his eyes and found peace within it.

Minutes, seconds, maybe hours ticked by, with Shigeo only resting his eyes, doing nothing more and nothing less. This is nice, he decided.

He let himself relax into it. Consuming everything into it. It felt nice. More than nice. He was resting and blackness was covering his view, his body consumed with emptiness. The tips of his eyelids touched the button of his eyelids. He slept. Sleep was nice. Or resting. Closing his eyes. Whatever. Those were nice, at least Shigeo could say that without arguing with.. something.

One, two, three.. those seconds ticked by, with him just consumed with the void. Three, four, five.. six, seven, eight..

A minute.

Two minutes.

Three, four—

Hm...

Okay, so, uh, turns out – that got boring real fast.

After a couple minutes of just simply keeping his eyes shut, Shigeo found that the void was the same as when his eyes were closed – except he just couldn't see his own body. Sleeping, closing his eyes — that was boring, and not any different then when he had his eyes open. That was actually a really simple thing to understand. Why wasn't he catching onto that sooner? He was stupid.

The entity rolled over to his side. What should he do now?

Resting his eyes for a bit was peaceful at first, yes, but that didn't mean it was peaceful forever – it was actually getting a little bit boring. Did he really want to close his eyes and go back to that? Not really, no – he wanted to do something else, something more than just staring at the back of his eyelids for however long that just was.

Sighing, Shigeo got into a sitting position, crossing his knees into a kneel. He looked outwards into the endless void. What should he do? Should he explore, wander around a bit – or should he just sit here and do... nothing?

But none of them sounded very excited. Well, sure, exploring this place did seem to be promising and fun – but Shigeo knew it was all just void, with nothing else to hold onto it. and besides that, Shigeo didn't really want to do nothing, either – that would be just as boring as staring at his eyelids, and he didn't want to do something worse than that again; at least not so soon, anyway.

Tapping his fingers against his pant leg, Shigeo hummed to himself as he thought things over. Sure, maybe exploring this place would be fun – but Shigeo didn't really know what was out there, other than pitch blank void, didn't he?

For all he could know, he might just be in a small box, and he could step off and fall into his doom if he wandered far enough – for all he knew, it could be endless, or go in circles, or he could not be moving at all because maybe this whole place didn't even exist in the first place.

Maybe this was just death – maybe one of the enemies had gotten back up, and maybe they had hurt him enough so that Shigeo became nothing; a husk; a corpse.

That... wouldn't be very likely, though, seeing as he had heard a voice before this comment on how awful and bad he was – he doesn't think he would die just for something to harass him out of the blue like this, especially considering that thing would've have to known what he had done before he "died", which wouldn't really make much sense unless it was some sort of God.

But then that would also imply that this God had known one of the people he had hurt — the boy called "Ritsu" – and that still wouldn't make sense, because then that thing had called him its brother, and Shigeo was pretty sure God didn't have family.

But, then.. this whole situation—?

Dammit. This was so confusing. It was making Shigeo's head hurt.

"You're making my head hurt," the thing chimed in again, so suddenly it made Shigeo flinch. "Stop thinking. Stop talking. I can't—I won't—why won't you go away?"

Go away? Shigeo didn't want to go away; he just got here! Besides, it wasn't as if he had much of a choice, anyway. Whether or not this disembodied voice wanted him gone or not, Shigeo wasn't going to leave. He couldn't just walk out of here at will, after all.

"You have to." it said, despite Shigeo's defences. "You hurt my brother. You hurt me. Go away. I don't like you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you!"

Hate him? This thing – this being, this voice – it hated him? For what? He hadn't even done anything!

Okay, maybe he did hurt the enemies a bit, but that was all a part of his job, all a part of what he had to do! If he hadn't done anything, if he had done nothing, then what could've occurred? More hurt, more pain, more suffering? He didn't want that. He couldn't allow for such things to take place – if he did, then he would be useless.

(Useless? He wondered where he got that word from. Why would he be useless?)

"You hurt people!" the voice shouted, upset. "You—You landed Ritsu in the hospital! He had to stay there for—for a day because of you! I hate you! Go away!"

And, again, Shigeo couldn't exactly do that – he was stuck here, in this void. No matter what the voice would say to him, he couldn't do anything other than just sit here and do nothing.

"You can. You can go away. Go away. Go away. Go away, go away go away—"

Shigeo sighed. This thing — voice? — kept on repeating the same thing, enough for it to get kinda annoying. Besides, it was basing this off of the wrong information. Shigeo couldn't disappear or "go away" no matter if he wanted to or not. He was stuck here. This voice repeating "go away" didn't make that any less true.

"Liar!" It shrieked, still. "You can go away! You've done it before! Go away, go away, go away—"

"Can you shut up?" He asked, after listening to the voice for more than a hour. Or maybe it was only a minute? Shigeo had no sense of time here, but he knew that he was getting a bit annoyed.

Also, what the hell did "you've done it before" mean? As far as Shigeo knew, the only time he ever went out of this void was when he was protecting, and even that was only a one time thing. This voice was just making shit up to get angry at.

"You lair!" It screamed.

"I'm not." He snapped. "You're the one who's annoying and pulling shit out of your ass to get angry at. Stop talking."

"Hey! Don't say that word!"

"What? 'Shit'? It's not even that bad. Also, I don't care. Go away."

"No. Not until you go away!"

"I.. I can't go away? I just told you that."

"Liar. You can go away. Go away!"

Wow. This guy wasn't letting up, was it? Well, whatever — Shigeo knew that once it went away, he would be alone, and alone would mean freedom, and freedom would mean.. silence, he guesses? He doesn't know. He just knows that if he waits it out long enough, eventually it'll get bored and disappear, and then hazar! Freedom!

"I hate you!"

Okay, maybe it was a bit too early to be thinking about that. It still seemed fairly riled up, its anger and malice radiating off of it like some sort of aura, even if it was just a voice.

Stretching out, Shigeo layed down on the cold void floor and stared up at the non-existent sky-ceiling thing. Sighing, he closed his eyes. If the voice was going to nag and scream at him for however long it wanted, then Shigeo would try to block it out with dreaming. Or, sleeping? Eh, it was the same thing, it didn't matter.

"You hurt me! You hurt my brother! I hate you!"

Man, what should he dream about? Something intriguing, maybe, something with colours and sounds and lights.. stuff that this void didn't give to him. A chair popped into mind, soft and brown. Shigeo pictured a window next to it, with a small breeze coming in and the light streaming down in a burst of yellow. It was shadowed, if only with a soft tint of orange, giving the feeling of safety and warmth.

"Go! I don't want you to be here anymore!"

And, with that chair and window, spanned out a.. pot plant. Okay, then. Shigeo could work with that. A chair, window and pot plant. A pot plant with a fresh, healthy green plant sprouting out from it. It looked lively.

The colours of mint green filtered through it before being replaced with a lavish green. Shigeo liked it better than the other one. It seemed nice. Maybe it would smell of freshly cut grass?

"Why do you even exist?! Why—"

Hm. Yeah. A window, a chair, and a plant smelling of freshly cut grass — that seemed like a good dream. The images wobbled and phased in and out a bit, Shigeo's mind seeming to find it hard to visualise such things all at once, but that was fine. Even seeing colour and light after hours of stark nothingness was enough.

"Stop! Go away! Please!"

Relaxing back and staring at his mind creation, Shigeo pictured something else. A person with soft dark hair and an even softer smile. This person, his mind decided, would adore spiky hair — one that seemed to direct its spikiness to one side of their head, their bangs covering their face a bit since it was so long. They wore a soft coloured shirt, with a small egg in the middle of it. It seemed to fit them well.

"Ritsu." His mind whispered, as Shigeo continued to picture the person walking over to the chair and sitting down on it. "That boy's name is Ritsu."

Ritsu.. that was a nice name. It was the same name as that voice yelled at him for — something about hurting him? — before, and Shigeo grimaced at the memory.

As the boy continued sitting on the chair, swinging his legs childishly, he began whistling a tune. It was a nice one, one that seemed upbeat and energetic. He seemed really peaceful, and happy, and Shigeo felt an urge of protectiveness wash over him.

Shigeo admired the scene his mind had created. Ritsu, sitting on a chair next to a window with a soft breeze, kicking his feet a bit. He seemed happy. Really, really happy. Shigeo felt a small bit of tiredness creep up on him. He was beginning to get tired, his brain dragging his consciousness away. That was fine. He was happy to look at this when he slept, happy for this to be the thing he dreamed of. It was—

Ritsu's form suddenly shifted, from a cheerful kid to a weeping child. His form crumpled into a tiny ball, the warm atmosphere suddenly drenched in crimson blood. Marks and bruises littered the kids skin. He was clearly hurt. He was clearly suffering.

Because of you, something whispered. Shigeo was too focused on the environment to pay much mind to that.

"No! Stop!" The voice cried out, suddenly at Shigeo's side. When had—?

In the image before him, Ritsu wasn't looking at him. He was, instead, cradling his head in his hands. Small whimpers left the boy as blood pooled beneath his head, cries of "Nii-san" as he cried. Shigeo's eyes widened at the image.

Ritsu was hurt.

Ritsu was hurt.

Shigeo's gut suddenly sunk into itself. Iceness crawled up his spine. His bones felt weighted down and heavy. He felt horrible. Dread. Dispair.

Guilt.

Ritsu was hurt, and—

"—it's all because of you!" The voice screamed. "Stop this! Stop! Its your fault! Stop making me— Stop, stop, stop—"

But Shigeo couldn't. He couldn't stop it. No, it was this void — twisting and warping and shaping every memory into something that made Shigeo's vision spin. The scenery laid out before him, and he couldn't do anything but watch.

It was like he was frozen. His eyes tracked every slight change. Ritsu's form curled further into himself until his head slowly seeped more blood, the crimson warping in neon pinks and blues, and—

Staggering upwards. A few metres away from the sobbing boy. Black and messy and harsh and mean. Spikes of red covered outward from their aura, like some shiny knives that Shigeo knew would hurt if he got too close.

But—but—

White eyes. Harsh, rolling breath. Mist. A cracking of the fingers, joints popping with the movement. He heard a sort of gasp, mixed with a growl of frustration and hurt and malice.

Shigeo's breath stuttered.

It was him.

"You did this!" The voice cried, its words choked in sobs and wails. "Stop showing me! Stop! Stop! Stop!"

Shigeo couldn't stop. He stared, onward, watching as the boy—monster—thing in the image stared onward to his feet. He watched as his movements matched every action he remembered doing. He watched as the scene played out in a different perspective.

"Stop it!" The voice cried.

98%

Shigeo couldn't tear his eyes away. His breathing was held in his chest, tight and digging. He felt wetness on his cheeks.

Lazing around the house, Mob had nothing to do.

Sure, he could play a game with Ritsu, but his head was pounding, and he was sure if he focused on a screen it would probably make his brain explode or something.

His homework had already been completed long ago, and his assignments weren't due until next week — not only that, but it seemed like none of his friends wanted to hang out, either. When Mob had messaged them, they were all busy — Tome with her job, Teruki with his haircut appointment and Mezato with her odd people watching hobby — and, as such, Mob was left alone.

Alone, and doing absolutely nothing.

He pressed his knees more into his body as he pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes. He closed them tight. Stars appeared in his vision, a whirlwind of neon blues and greens, all twisting and dancing under his eyelid. Mob groaned.

Go away, headache, he urged, feeling the throb of it in his skull. It didn't seem to cater to his demand, but Mob still felt the drum of it in his head. Ow ow ow ow..

He sighed, his hands going limp by his side as he opened his eyes once more. His vision blurred for a moment, before clearing the light of his open window making his eyes hurt a bit. The esper blinked rapidly, trying to clear the sudden dislodge of colour, but all that seemed to do was add a twinge to the back of his eyes.

For fucks sake. Mob sighed loudly, cursing himself as he stared up into the ceiling. The light was turned off, having it still being midday and all, and Mob could trace all the small dots of dead flies on the lightbulb. There were so many it was impossible to count, and Mob only looked idly at it, his head too sore to think much of anything.

God. His head pounded. One moment it would be right at the edge of his head, towards the left — the next, at the very base of his neck. It was agonising.

He couldn't take any pills, either. He couldn't swallow them fully, always seeming to choke them back up. It was annoying, but Mob couldn't help it.

As anther wave of painful aches came his way, Mob decided to rest a bit. Picking up his futon with his powers, feeling the aura buzz and hum around his hand, Mob unfolded his bed and spread it out on the floor.

Every action he did — every hand movement and slight shift of his body — it felt like his head was spinning, like the world was slowly rotating around him. He felt warmth press up against his skull, a sort of sick feeling creeping up in his spine.

Fuck. Fuck!

Mob flopped onto his futon, pressing his knees right up to his chest as he buried his face in his knees. His head felt so painful. It felt like his brain might as well just explode out of his skull at this point. Heat surged up from under his brow, and he felt his skin — hot to the touch, his aura coating the bed making his eyes sting with tears.

Shit. Was he getting sick or something?

He let out a low, shaky breath, crawling under the covers slowly and resting his face on his pillow. His brain drummed against his head, a thumping sensation that never dulled. His eyes burst with needles and pins, his own body heat seeming to try and claw him from the inside out.

God. Everything hurt. So, so much. His mouth felt watery, and every breath he took seemed to be so loud in his ears. Every air he sucked in seemed to come deep into his core. It was burning, tearing through flesh and blood. But, not really. No. It was just a headache.

Fuck. Mob was dramatic. He just needed to sleep. Then the headache would go away, with time. Hopefully.

He brought the covers right up towards himself, hearing all the birdsong and Ritsu's computer game somewhere down the hall. Everything was so loud, but Mob needed to go to bed. He might throw up if he didn't.

Slowly, slowly, slipping into darkness, Mob felt his body relax as it succumbed to the throbbing ache and will of sleep. His breath came even, his mind becoming hollow, still an ache to his forehead, but that was easily pushed aside. He sighed in, deep, letting the air escape his lungs as he was pulled into a restful sleep.

"Mob?" Someone called, seeming right above him. Cracking an eye open, Mob nearly jumped at the sight of Shigeo, standing right above him. The boys hair fell on his face, and even if there was no shadow to speak of, Mob could still feel the way his eyes pieced into his.

"W-What?" The esper spluttered out, heart thrumming in his chest as his drive into sleep became haltered with this sudden appearance. He sat up, making Shigeo back a few steps away from him as he took in his surroundings.

He was.. in a void.

His void.

Pitch, black, empty nothingness, spanning hundreds and millions of kilometres. It felt like nothing but the vague sensation of being cold, a simple emptiness that made up the environment he occupied. It was.. somewhat familiar, but still bore the feel of a new home.

Shigeo was standing above him, his crimson eyes locked onto his own. It was piercing, a bit, to see into Shigeo's eyes when his was a much darker shade of red. The entity didn't say anything, as if waiting for him to break the silence.

Mob could only stand up, shakily, to his feet. He looked around the area, once more, as if to double check he was actually here. Why was he even here in the first place? Did he get plopped in here randomly or something? And, now that he thought of it, that dull throb.. it was gone. Huh.

"Shigeo," Mob began, a waiver to his voice as he looked at the boy, "why— why am I here? What did you—?"

"You think I did this?" Shigeo cut him off, crossing his arms. The fabric under his fingernails crinkled, the white uniform somehow dull in the space the two where in. Mob shook his head.

"No, no, that's not what I said." He explained. "Just— you— I was getting to sleep, and you just..? Appeared? So I.. maybe thought you did it, you know, pull me here."

"Don't push the blame onto me all the time, Mob," Shigeo huffed out. "God, why do you always do that? Assuming things, I mean. You appeared, and I just waited for you to wake up. That's all. Or.. become animated? I can't think of a word for it."

"It.. doesn't really matter, does it?" Mob said, and Shigeo hummed in agreement. "Why.. so.. you didn't do this?"

"No? That's what I said before, Mob. Do you have brain damage or something?"

Mob shook his head. "No. I would probably know if I had brain damage, and I was just clarifying that what you said was true, since you kind of insulted me instead of answering my question."

"That.." Shigeo, letting his arms fall to his side, looked at Mob with a mix of disappointment and annoyance. "Mob, that was a joke."

"Oh." The boy shrunk back a bit, a slight flush of embarrassment making his ears hot. "Sorry."

"Don't be, it wasn't a good joke anyway." Shigeo grumbled, before reaching over to him and grabbing the boy's hand.

Shigeo's cold hand against his made Mob flinch, but Shigeo took no mind of it, instead turning so that Mob was facing the boy's back and walking in seemingly random direction.

Mob lagged behind a bit, nearly tripping over his own two feet as he was suddenly pulled by the boy's hand. He tried to slip his hand from Shigeo's grasp, but all that did was tighten the grip. Mob winced.

"S-Shigeo, what are you doing?" Mob asked, shaky, his steps evening out so that he was now walking fairly in time with him.

Shigeo didn't look at him as he answered, "I want to show you something."

"What? What's there to show? There's nothing here!"

"Well. There used to be nothing here. Now there is," Shigeo replied, not bothering to explain further as he continued to drag Mob in an endless direction of void. Mob groaned, hating how weird and ominous Shigeo was being.

After a couple of minutes, Shigeo stopped walking abruptly. Mob nearly bumped into him, almost tripping over his own feet as he, too, halted in his tracks. Peering over the boy's shoulder, Mob let go of Shigeo's hand as he came over to stand next to the esper.

"There's nothing here, Shigeo," Mob pointed out, to which the other let out a snort.

"Great observation, Mob," Shigeo said, sarcasm clear in his voice as he eyed the boy. "Without you saying that, I probably would've thought there was something here."

"Shut up," Mob grumbled, his ears burning hot as he glanced away from the boy. "It's true. There is literally nothing here. Why did you stop walking?"

"To sight see, Mob," Shigeo replied, rolling his eyes. "God, what do you think? Obviously, I'm doing something here."

"Like what?"

Shigeo didn't answer.

"Like what, Shigeo?" Mob tried, again.

The boy huffed, folding his arms. "Just shut up and watch, Mob." He said, snappy.

Mob fell silent, huffing, before watching Shigeo's movements carefully as the boy spread out his hand in front of him. His fingers crackled, and a beam of light emitted from them, a ball of swirling energy that was pure white; it was even whiter than Shigeo's gakuran.

Mob winced, a pounding sensation creeping into his head as Shigeo twisted the ball into different shapes. It was small, yes, only fitting on the esper's bare palm, but it was still something that became hard to look at. The light it produced seemed to get brighter and brighter, the intensity of it increasing until Mob felt his eyes sting.

"H-Hey, Shigeo, stop—" he whimpered out, his head thrumming and hammering as the boy warped it into something bigger. It seemed like it was trying to break his skull, or like his brain was tearing through his bones. God, it hurts.

Shigeo didn't stop. He continued on, brighter and brighter. The light was now the size of a small basketball. The esper didn't even seem to hear Mob's plea's for help, or see the desperation in his face.

It felt like every nerve he had in his body was lit with some sort of fire, his mouth watering and his eyes seemed to melt into his sockets. The light was so bright. It felt like the sun had just exploded, or like his brain was splitting open.

The shape still warped, twisting back and forth into itself. It was a swirling ball of magma, all powerful and all blinding.

"Shigeo—"

"Shut up," he snapped.

Mob was taken aback. "W-What?"

"I said shut up, Mob," Shigeo growled out, angry, twisting the ball more and more into itself, warping it into different shapes.

Mob's head struck another pounding stab, and he whimpered. He shrunk into himself, feeling the void tug at his mind as his vision blurred around the edges. His head felt like a sledgehammer was being slammed into it, only getting worse as Shigeo continued to expand the swirling ball of light to his whims.

Mob's head became nothing but a whirlwind of pain, more stabs of agony striking into his scalp the more Shigeo twisted the ball of energy larger and larger. By the time that it had morphed into a small desk, Mob was on the ground, pain so bad he could barely stand. His whole form shook, his brain feeling like it was being split apart.

Shigeo let his arms drop to his sides, a bit of sweat sliding off of his skin as he stared at his creation. It was only a small table, and it wasn't even very good — the lines still fuzzed if he didn't look at it hard enough, yet, it was still something. It was simple, yes, but it was his. He felt a small bit of pride shine within him, a sense of warmth in his chest as he stared at his creation.

"Mob, look," he said, a bit of excitement in his tone, gesturing to the small desk as he turned to where Mob was.

..only to see no Mob. Instead, plain void. Shigeo looked around again.

"Mob?"

A whimper, coming from down below. Shigeo snapped his attention to it, and the warmth of pride in his chest got snuffed out as his eyes locked onto Mob's form.

The boy was on the ground, sobs letting out of him as he shook slightly. He was curled up into a ball, holding his head in his hands as if he was in agony. And from the way he kept screaming out, he probably was.

"M-Mob?" Shigeo croaked out, heart suddenly pounding in his chest as he took in Mobs form.

The boy said nothing. The sound of sobs and the occasional plea for it to stop came out of him, and Shigeo dropped to his knees in front of him.

"Mob? Are you–What's wrong?" Shigeo asked, a slight tremble to his voice as he watched Mob whimper under him. "Mob, God–What's wrong? What's hurting you?"

Mob said nothing. He kept on sobbing, fingers racking his hair in a desperate attenpt to reduce the volume of agony he was feeling.

"S-Shigeo–stop–" he whimpered, voice barely above a whisper. "I-I–stop–God, it hurts–"

"What? What hurts?"

"The–you–you–!"

Shigeo's eyes widened. "Me?" He repeated, as if double checking. Mob shook his head a 'no', but still locked eyes with Shigeo as he spoke, voice trembling.

"The–the thing–" Mob whimpered, voice filled with strain and hurt. His head seemed to double in pain as he forced his eyes to stay on Shigeo's. "B–Behind you–"

"Behind me?"

CW: shigemob 💀

One look at the two made Shigeo's heart sink into his gut.

Teruki Hanazawa had obviously loved Mob from the very beginning – it was evident in the way he spoke about the boy, how he always praised and worshiped him whenever he spoke or made a decision – and it was no wonder that he would ask Mob out. If anything, it was to be expected.

But it still hurt that Mob accepted that. It still hurt to see that Mob reciprocate those feelings for Teruki. It still hurt seeing Mob agree to them dating so readily, as if he had been waiting for this moment his whole life.

It hurt that Shigeo wasn't on the receding end of Mobs love and affection. It hurt even more to release that he was probably never going to be someone who Mob looked at like that.

It hurt even more to realise that Mob was never going to love him the same way he loved Mob.

1.

It wasn't as if Shigeo always loved Mob, because he didn't.

In fact, Shigeo despised Mob for years – four years to be exact – and even with Mob's acceptance, that never changed. Somewhere deep inside of himself, Shigeo still hated Mob, even if a flower of new emotion had bloomed slowly into his chest.

It probably started when Mob had grasped Shigeo's hand, really.

Shigeo was still angry, of course. He was still upset with Mob. His whole reasoning of erasing the boy from existence wasn't forgotten, and Shigeo sure as hell wasn't going to forgive Mob that easily.

..is what he would've said, if Mob's hands weren't so goddamn soft. And nice. And warm. And just—just things that Shigeo wasn't expecting Mobs hands to feel like.

It might've been the light behind Mob that had blinded Shigeo's judgement a bit, but Shigeo swore Mob looked lovely in that moment. His cheeks round and soft, his eyes with a shine in them and his lips pulled in a soft smile – it made a blossoming, warm feeling blaze alight in his chest.

For a brief moment, Shigeo had wanted Mobs hand to stay in his forever.

It was soft, and a nice feel, and warm, and everything that Shigeo had wanted in that moment was suddenly just Mob – all his anger and hatred that he had held towards the boy had now been replaced by something much fonder, and warmer, and nicer. It made Shigeo's face heat up and his heart race in his chest.

All the light right behind Mob made him seem like some sort of God, or like something that could do no wrong. Suddenly, Shigeo couldn't take his eyes off of him. With Mobs hand in his own, Shigeo wanted to stare at Mob forever.

It made Shigeo feel the same way he felt about Tsubomi, expect much, much more intense.

It made Shigeo feel in love.

2.

After that, Shigeo's thoughts were muddled.

Since being accepted it meant that – at least subconsciously – Shigeo was more in-tune to Mob's emotional state. Before this, there used to be a wall that would split the two of them up — Mob an emotionless husk and Shigeo a emotional tornado — but now..

Well. Of course, there was still a wall there — thick enough to make them two separate, thinking people, at least — but the emotional aspect of it was.. not as strong.

For example: one time, during the very first few days of Mobs hospital stay, the boy was riddled with a sense of guilt.

5.

It takes a while for him to reach the stairs.

As he treks upwards, Shigeo's head is filled with thoughts; all swirling and clashing into each other at random. It gives him barely enough thought to breathe, his chest heaving with the weight of everything and the steps he's taking, and it makes his bones ache and sore and tired.

He keeps going.

He needs to tell someone, at least, and Reigen.. well. If anyone's got any love advice, it's him. Probably. Maybe. Hopefully.

He thinks back to when Mob had asked advice from the man before, and how he had simply scrolled on his phone the entire time. He grimaces, and he stops.

Is this really a good idea?

First of all, the man doesn't even know he exists – how could he possibly take him seriously, especially considering he's essentially crushing on himself – and if he were to go as Mob, then what?

Shigeo doesn't even really know how the boy acts. Sure, he's watched over him for years and years now, but he's no better at pretending to be people than Mob is himself; that is to say, there is no talent in doing that.

And, even if Shigeo could impersonate Mob to almost near perfection, Reigen could read the boy like an open book. He knew the little hints and tale tells of his emotions like it's the most obvious thing in the world, so he would only need a glance of Shigeo's performance to call him out on it.

Yet, still — Shigeo can't go to anyone else about this, can he? Only Reigen and Reigen alone, for this he's sure of. Yet, still, his heart stutters, and his breath is caught in his throat.

Is he sure of this?

Shigeo isn't sure of anything. His heart pumps faster against his ribcage the more seconds tick by, like some sort of pounding drum in a concert band. He needs to be undetected and unsuspecting. He needs to be hidden.

Luickly, Shigeo has gotten good at hiding.

Shigeo hated Mob.

He did. He always hated him. He locked him away and shunned him and tried to fight him with all the small, pathetic energy that he could muster – Mob was weak and a fool and someone who Shigeo hated.  He had wished Shigeo away yet always crawled back to him when the times got tough, even if he didn't mean to. He couldn't even stand on his own two feet, and it was annoying.

Shigeo hated Mob.

He despised everything about the boy. The way he handled things, and the way he spoke, and the way he was so cowardly against every threat – Shigeo hated the fact that, even though Mob prided himself on the fact that he could live without powers, Mob still fell back on him every time.

Shigeo hated Mob.

He hated that the boy tried to change himself. He hated the fact that he had tried to fix himself. He hated everything about him. His personality, his likes, his dislikes, his strengths and weaknesses – even if the two shared the same body, Shigeo even hated that about him.

He hated that Mob was so small. So little. Even if they were the same person, Shigeo seemed to be far taller than Mob was – and far, far less childish than Mob was. Where Mob had baby fat on his cheeks, Shigeo had a rough edge to his face. Where Mob had a slight childish glint in his eyes, Shigeo had nothing of the sort. Where Mob's small, little lips were, Shigeo was rougher.

Everything about Mob Shigeo despised everything he had. He hated his looks, how he seemed so soft compared to him – how he seemed so fucking weak compared to him.

Shigeo hated that the most, though.
That weakness – that small, little part of him – that made Shigeo feel protective over him. Mob was just so small. So little. Shigeo thinks that even a gust of wind could knock the kid over – and that was just with his looks alone. Along with Mobs personality and morals, Shigeo could conclude fairly confidently that Mob would bend to anyone's whims with alarming ease.

Shigeo hated the fact that Mob felt that easy to bend. To pull into his own hands like that. To mold and warp and twist him to his own commands and orders. Shigeo felt some sort of sickness wash over him at that thought, his face heated with some twisted energy, that Mob could be so gullible and usable.

Though, Shigeo supposes, Mob already proved how usable he was when he didn't pull away from Reigen's grasp, even when Mob knew he was a liar. That Reigen was a fraud and a fake and a conman. He knew he was scum and far below where he stood, even without the psychic powers mixing into it.

Shigeo hated Mob. He did.

Or... that's what he wanted to think, anyway.

Mob was just – like stated before – so small and little and childish. How could Shigeo not fall in some kind of admiration for that? The fact that Mob still stayed so undeniably innocent and naïve despite everything he had been through – whether that was being used by that poser Reigen or whether that was being beaten by those spirits in Mogami World – was something Shigeo had taken a sort of liking to.

Even if it was irrational and childish and stupid, Shigeo couldn't deny that it was somewhat cute to see Mob still be so... hopeful throughout everything. The way the boy spoke and the way he held people at face value despite all of his knowledge beforehand – and the way that he had believed people so easily – made Shigeo's heart leap a bit.

It was just...

Well.

How could he even accept him? When he was so bright and cheerful and whatever else, how could he have accepted someone like Shigeo? It was guilt, maybe, that tore through his gut like a chainsaw when Mob had outstretched his hand to him. It was gnawing and deep in his gut, something that made his chest feel airy and hot.

Grasping Mob's hand and feeling it on his own felt... nice. Surprisingly, Shigeo liked the feel of Mob's skin. It was nice, warm, and soft. Shigeo wanted to grasp his hand in his for as long as possible, suddenly overcome with the urge, but he was unable to as Mob's form slowly sunk back into his body, leaving Shigeo alone.

Still, Shigeo peered forward, into Mobs eyes. Mob slowly came back to himself, sinking into his own bones and blood as he stared Reigen down. The man was sniffling a bit, seeming to be saying something, but it was lost to Shigeo. Shigeo couldn't hear anything the man was saying, but he urged Mob to go forward for him.

Mob, as expected, obliged. He walked, and swayed, but otherwise stayed on target. The thunderstorm that Shigeo had created was dead now, only the destruction it brought left.

Shigeo grumbled as he felt Reigens and Dimple's eyes on Mob, still looking at him as he trudged onwards to Tsubomi, still clutching tightly to his destroyed bouquet that was now just a simple sunflower.

Shigeo hummed in approval, the connection to Mob's eyes wavered and blinked out. Slowly, Shigeo came back to Mobs view, and–

He was.. crying?