#it is. somewhat more obvious how small that bathtub is in the filming behind

[avecorviidae]

Fic: Aubade - Chapter Six

Fandom: Mob Psycho 100 Rating: M Relationship(s): Kageyama Ritsu/Suzuki Shou Word Count: 3834

Ao3 Link

Rye street is… nice, he thinks. A few apartment buildings, some small businesses, a convenience store, a couple of fast food takeaway joints, even a little cafe with a fence around the outside tables, looking like it’s straight out of some soft indie film. It’s all pretty average, which at first was honestly more than Ritsu had dared to hope for. The landlord of the building is a fairly stout man with perpetually ruddy pink cheeks, and he stands shorter than even Shou, much to Shou’s obvious delight. He shows the two of them around the building, (five floors, he tells them like it’s some sort of selling point, I’ll show you gentlemen the one you were looking at on the third, of course, but wouldn’t you like to see some of our empty ones on the top floor? Only a little extra rent, I assure you, and the view is–

No, thank you, Ritsu interrupts before Shou can say something decidedly less polite, we’re just interested in the one we saw online.) It’s hardly their first choice, and unless there’s some great disaster, it almost certainly won’t be the place they end up living. It’s a little cramped, a little run-down, and even looking around now at the flaking paint on the exposed pipes, the suspiciously dark patch on the ceiling of the hallway (is that mould?), Ritsu could see quite a few maintenance issues in their future, if they ended up here. Besides, it’s too far away from the school to walk, and not even nearly close enough to a bus stop for Ritsu’s lazy ass. The only reason they’re actually visiting in the first place is because, well, he can’t help but feel like he needs a test run, a general idea of how these things work before anything’s actually at stake. Figure out what to look for now, before they end up in a perfectly nice place with no air conditioning and a toilet in the living room.

He tunes back into reality just in time to grab Shou’s shoulder, barely stopping him from crashing right into the landlord. Apparently both of them had zoned out of his little extravagant speech, so they hadn’t realized they were coming to a stop at one of the doors.

Jeez, looks like someone had a nice game of hallway golf, he notes with vague amusement. Maybe Dad’s client was here with his stapler.

He wonders, if they were seriously considering this place, what would be an absolute dealbreaker, because he has the somewhat foreboding feeling that this place is going to get worse than that dent in the door.

The landlord (Mr. Amori? No, that was his year three teacher. Anami? Anami. Maybe,) seems to think that if he’s loud and fast enough, maybe, just maybe they won’t notice. Playing dumb, he follows him into the apartment, trailing a few steps behind Shou. He doesn’t have to feign polite interest as he looks around the main room, though he does have to stifle a smile at the way Shou immediately bounds off like a dog let off its leash, one moment poking his head through the curtains to look out of the little window, the next rummaging through the empty kitchen cabinets. He’s ooohing and aaahing every now and again, and tossing questions in the landlord’s direction which are both completely irrelevant to the apartment and in too much of a rapid fire succession for the poor man to even think about answering.

Probably-Anami is watching Shou with almost frightened bewilderment, so Ritsu takes pity on him and starts asking real questions.

“There’s AC and heating, right?” The man smiles gratefully at him, clearly glad to be on familiar ground.

“Yes, yes, of course! Air conditioning, heating, a refrigerator, an oven, even a microwave! Well, the microwave may have some, some very minor issues, but I can assure you…” I asked what utilities there were, not appliances, dumbass, he thinks, letting his eyes glaze over as the man continues to talk at him. He tries to think what questions he’s supposed to ask next, his fingers itching at his side to reach for the folded piece of paper in his pocket. Did it count as ridiculous, planning this far ahead, looking up what questions you were supposed to ask your landlord? Shou had called him uptight, but jokingly, and it’s not as if he’s much of a standard to go by anyways, Mister Mad-Dash-Across-LAX-Because-He-Didn’t-Check-His-Flight-Times.

He waits and nods along until Probably-Anami seems to be probably finished speaking, and then starts on a small barrage of questions as they come flooding back to him like a set of definitions memorized the night before a test, and he takes incredible satisfaction in the pure anxiety on Anami’s face every time he’s asked a question that he’d almost definitely wanted to avoid.

Are utilities included in the rent? Apparently not, that’s an additional fee, joy oh joy.

What are the circumstances that allow the landlord to let himself into the property? There are none, and he can come in at any time. Well, then.

How often are the locks changed? Hm, it seems that since the last tenants left so suddenly there just hasn’t been time to get the locks changed, how reassuring. Are there quiet hours? Anami is halfway through the beginning of an answer when Ritsu feels light tapping on his shoulder, and by the time he’s turned around, Shou is already half-dragging him into the nearby bathroom, ostensibly to show him something, although the manically delighted grin on his face says otherwise.

The bathroom is disgustingly dirty, Ritsu notes absently, scuffed white tiles and black grout, some ominous damp mush gathering in the line between the tiny bathtub and the floor. Sure, he wasn’t one to leap at bathroom duty in his dorms or at home, but christ, he’d never let it get this bad. It was probably more on the last tenants than the landlord, but did he not clean before he showed the place to prospective tenants? Had they left yesterday, or something? “So,” Shou starts, and then pauses, clearly hoping to build up anticipation for his big reveal. “So,” Ritsu echoes, crossing his arms over his chest and letting his tone lilt up into an expectant question.

Shou’s grin widens fractionally. “Those ‘minor issues’ with the microwave?” He leans closer into Ritsu’s space, and when he’s speaking again, it’s in a conspiratorial whisper. “Cockroach crispies.” “Augh, no!” He gives Shou exactly what he wants, letting disgust colour his voice and scrunching his face as Shou collapses into hysterical laughter.

“No, no, nope absolutely not,” Ritsu says, making for the door, “we’re done here.” “Aw, you’re telling me you don’t want to see it for yourself?” Shou is obviously only fake disappointed, his tone more teasing than anything, because apparently he knows Ritsu far too well for his own good.

“One look. Then we’re leaving.”

-

Their second appointment on Barley Avenue is not much better.

It was a little after eleven by the time they’d finally managed to worm their way out of Anami’s grasp, and the first thing they did was make a beeline for the nearest place that had food, some food literally any food, dear god why had they not thought to bring, god, like a granola bar or something.

Once Shou’s not allegedly starving to death, he’s back to full energy and he is ready to go, and he keeps weaving ahead of Ritsu on the street, his orange spikes disappearing into the crowd until he’s lost him completely. Ritsu might worry, but Shou always ends up trailing back within a few minutes, once he remembers that he has no actual idea where the bus stop is.

-

The landlady, Yamada Sachiko, is typically professional, with a soft yellow blouse and black pencil skirt and a clear plastic clipboard piled with neatly sorted paperwork held to her chest. Her hair is pulled into one of the strictest buns he’s ever seen, and it’s giving him a sympathy headache just to look at.

She’s waiting for them in the lobby of the building when they arrive, and he gives an appropriately polite greeting as she shakes his hand. There’s an uncomfortable pause after he pulls away, as her previously warm smile turns plastic and patronizing, and she seems to hesitate before holding out a hand for Shou to shake as well. Jeez, and she’s actually looking down at him, could she be any more like a teacher?

Admittedly, between the height, the hair, and the skinny jeans, Shou usually looks a good few years younger than he actually is. You certainly wouldn’t know from looking at him that he’s spent the last five or more years cleaning up his father’s messes, including dealing with whatever high-profile business associates he may have had.

Which is why it’s viscerally satisfying to see the slight shock on Yamada’s face when Shou straightens his shoulders, holds his head up to meet her eyes, shakes her hand firmly, and says with a saccharine smile, “Miss Yamada, a pleasure to meet you. Thank you so much for taking the time to show us around, we’ve been looking forward to it.” Ritsu’s not sure if he’s imagining a particular emphasis on we. It’s entirely an act, of course, and Ritsu can sense the hostility underneath it, even moreso once they all step into the elevator and the tension thickens between them all in the stale air. Yamada is shifting, somewhat uncomfortably, while Shou seems to be revelling in it. So, Shou’s decided to put on a show. Ritsu isn’t entirely sure why, yet, but he’s perfectly willing to play along.

The elevator pulls to a stop and Yamada leads them out into the hallway, never faltering as she strides across the thick patterned carpet, despite her insanely high heels.

While the other apartment building had given off the general atmosphere of a horrifying mutant hybrid between a dormitory and a prison, this place feels like a hotel, generically ornate carpets underfoot and not-quite-faded wallpaper on either side, interrupted by fancy lamps whose gold paint was peeling to reveal black metal underneath.

The smell of stale air freshener is making his nose itch.

Even so, he probably comes off as overeager with how quickly he steps into the apartment once Yamada unlocks the door, quickly making his way to the middle of the room and looking around.

This place had been his favourite of the ones they’d looked at online, and truth be told, he was already most of the way to sold on it. It had an open floor plan that left a nice amount of space without feeling empty, rich hardwood floors, a kitchen bigger than a matchbox, and god, did it ever have windows. Sunlight fell into the room in bits and pieces, dappling the kitchen counter through half-shuttered blinds, making the beige-ish couch and scratched up coffee table look more warm and rustic than worn and torn.

He hears Shou come in behind him, but surprisingly, he doesn’t wander off to explore like last time. Instead, he stays hovering at Ritsu’s elbow, looking around the apartment with an almost blank curiosity.

Yamada is clearly more practiced at this than Anami had been; she shows them around the main living space in a way that highlights its most attractive features, explains the utilities and appliances that come with the place with clinical objectivity that still manages to sound almost welcoming. All in all, it’s incredibly pleasant.

Ritsu has never been more uncomfortable in his life.

There’s something about the way the woman looks at him, a little too personal, a little too… intimate? Regardless, it’s putting him on edge, even as he plasters on a smile in return, asks cordially about the hours for the building’s laundry facilities, what forms the rent money is accepted in, about the security deposit.

She steps into his space, looks up at him. He can smell lavender, cloying and artificial, too strong to be anything but cheap perfume.

“Of course,” she says, with an alarming smile and a new undertone to her voice that Ritsu can’t identify and doesn’t want to, “you’ll be welcome to contact me at any time. I’d be happy to help.” “Uh,” Ritsu says eloquently, taking a half-step back. Too close, she’s too close for him to think. And then there’s sudden warmth at his side, and his right arm is looped around a set of —oh thank god, familiar— shoulders. Shou, he thinks, with a rush of relief. He hadn’t even really noticed him wander off, hadn’t missed him until he was back.

The physical closeness, that’s not unusual, but the way Shou is looking at him, head pressed back against Ritsu’s shoulder so that he can meet his eyes upside-down, a soft, dopey sort of smile on his face, well that’s– that’s not something he sees every day, and for good reason. They only do this when they need an out, and Ritsu knows an escape rope when he sees one. Shou’s aura embraces him like a safety blanket, but he can feel the defensiveness, the way it prickles at the edges, little hedgehog spines surrounding them protectively.

“Ritsu,” and it’s said pleadingly, softly, like Yamada isn’t standing right there, “Can we choose a bedroom already?” Ritsu lets himself relax, returns Shou’s smile with a small, exasperatedly affectionate one of his own. He slips his arm more snugly around Shou, makes to move towards the hallway leading to the bedrooms, then spares a cursory glance at Yamada, as if she’s an afterthought, rather than the main cause of his little panic. “If we could...?” he says, and it’s not a question, not really.

She nods sharply regardless, looking suitably ruffled, and without further ado Ritsu steers them as quickly as is appropriate into the hallway and into the first bedroom. The tension doesn’t fully slip from his shoulders until the door clicks shut behind them, and he slumps against it with a sigh. Shou follows his movement, and he hears him mutter “creep” half into shoulder.

“Mhm,” he mutters by way of agreement, scrubbing his free hand over his face. He didn’t think he was getting worked up over nothing, but he also couldn’t pinpoint exactly why Yamada made him uncomfortable. It wasn’t– it wasn’t overtly inappropriate, or rude, or flirtatious…

Wait, was it? The saccharine smiles, the too-close-for-comfort tour, the intimate tone of voice, the perfume, the– the flash of sudden recognition in her eyes when Shou had stepped in, the step backwards she’d taken and–

“Jesus, she was coming on to me, wasn’t she?”

There are a few moments of silence as Shou goes rigid against him, and then he collapses into fits of giggles, leaning his weight on Ritsu in earnest now as he muffles his laughter into Ritsu’s shirt.

Ritsu sighs, but as usual, there’s no real heart to it. That Ritsu has a tendency to miss those sorts of specific social cues is a given, and since they were kids, that Shou will help him out of those situations is one too. The one-year gap had stretched between them again, in that respect, and Ritsu reflects that he can certainly take being made fun of a little if it means he gets this again, Shou leaning into him and pulling him away from situations like this, his laugh making the discomfort and panic tight in the back of Ritsu’s throat dissipate like so many butterflies, well. Seems like a fair tradeoff to him.

-

They don’t last too long in that apartment after that. Arguably, Yamada would still rent to them, but Ritsu is feeling strange and shaky around her, too distracted to see the idealized apartment, keeps focusing on the threadbare curtains, the weird smudge on the sofa, the way some of the floorboards sort of bounce under his feet (didn’t his dad once say that meant they had water damage?) and frankly, it’s enough to turn him off the place entirely. Besides, Shou’s clearly made an enemy of the woman, and Ritsu can’t think of a single possible benefit of having a landlord that hates your guts.

On the bus, Shou looks distracted, harried, staring out of the window and not meeting his eyes. He looks exactly how Ritsu feels: I didn’t think it would be this hard.

Frankly, it shouldn’t be as draining as it is; they’ve looked at one place seriously, and one-and-a-quarter bad experiences does not a disaster make. Still, as Ritsu finds with all Adult Responsibilities, he can’t help but feel that it’s disproportionately difficult for what it actually is. He just wants for this day, no, this move to be done with, wants a bed in a new apartment with his best friend for him to collapse into and fall asleep already.

On impulse, he reaches out and grabs Shou’s hand, squeezes it once. “Third time’s the charm?” It’s as much to reassure himself as it is Shou.

Shou, for once in his life, doesn’t have anything to say beyond a quiet hum of agreement that’s almost lost in the constant muted sound of the engine, but the quick squeeze of fingers around his speaks volumes.

-

Whatever powers-that-be have been fucking with them all day have finally decided to let up, apparently.

Their third landlord, Nishigori, is the kind of man who seems to face the world with a genuine and gentle smile. He shows up a little less than ten minutes late to their appointment, and his explanation-cum-apology about his newborn triplets makes sense of the shadows under his eyes, the slightly rumpled effect of his clothes and hair, the fact that the man looks absolutely, utterly exhausted, and is somehow happy about it.

He seems to find Shou’s hyperactivity genuinely amusing, and he answers Ritsu’s questions informally, but honestly.

The apartment itself is smaller than the last one, with a bit more of an awkward layout; the front door leads into a straight hallway with doors on either side, leading to the living room, the bathroom, a couple of cupboards, and the bedrooms. Nishigori tells him which door leads to what, but Ritsu immediately forgets and finds himself lost, so he just follows the him into the living room. Shou, in his usual exploration mode, seems to have opted for trial and error, because he distantly hears two or three doors opening and closing before Shou finally pokes his head into the living room and strolls inside.

“Carpets in the bedrooms,” Shou reports to him, sounding impressed.

Oh, nice. Most of the apartment seems to be like the last one, darkish hardwood interrupted periodically by a rug, or sectioned off like the bathrooms and the kitchen into slate grey tile. A wooden-floored bedroom wouldn’t be a dealbreaker for him, but he’d definitely prefer carpet.

Interestingly enough, while nothing in the apartment is what he thought he’d wanted, it is in its own way shaping up to be ideal. It’s pretty sparsely furnished (IKEA, reads the final bullet point of the list in his back pocket, and won’t that be a shopping trip and a half,) but not enough to make the place feel empty. It seems like the white walls should be clinical, boring even, but as evening turns the sky grey Nishigori wanders around turning on lamps that seem to warm the rooms, make the empty spaces smaller, hell, makes the whole place homey. It doesn’t look like something out of a furniture catalog or a movie, particularly, but it looks soft, comfortable, lived in.

For the third time that day, he and Shou step into another room for a little private conference. For the first time that day, it’s not to shittalk about how completely fucking awful everything is.

They’ve moved into one of the bedrooms, the one with the blue-grey sheets on the bed and little lamps on the bedside table and the dresser, and Ritsu notes the plush of the tan carpet under his feet as he goes to sit on the bed. Shou plops down beside him and leans forward, elbows on his knees and chin in his palms. “I really like this place,” Shou says without preamble.

“Me too,” he replies, equally as frank.

He thinks, thinks, that Shou shares the same worry and hesitation as him: that he likes this place, that he’s ready to decide on this place, but that the feeling isn’t mutual. There’s a heavy silence as Ritsu tries to think of what to say, to test the waters.

“It doesn’t have to be now that we decide. I mean, we’ve still got appointments tomorrow, we could find something better.” He thinks that more reluctance shows through in his tone than he intended.

Shou doesn’t answer right away, instead falling backwards so that he’s half-lying on the bed, feet still grazing the floor. After a few more beats, he says, “Dibs on this bed.”

-

He asks as they’re going over a basic packet of paperwork, the first steps to putting in a security deposit and getting their names down on the lease.

“Mr. Nishigori? Shou and I, we’re…” Hm, how to phrase it, and he decides last minute on a half-truth, “...We’re about to be out of a place to live, honestly. Of course,” and at this he rubs his hand at the back of his neck, reluctant, sheepish, “I know it’s unconventional to let your tenants start living in the apartment before they’ve even signed the lease, but…” Nishigori blinks at him, surprised, and then smiles. “Nonsense! You’re certainly moving in, yes? Might as well make the transition easier and start now.” He claps Ritsu softly on the shoulder, and he has the distant, tired thought of, he’s going to be a good dad.

“If nothing else,” their new landlord jokes, “it’ll make it easier for me to track you down and get you to sign all this damn paperwork.”

-

Ritsu dozes off on top of the blankets of the blue-grey bed at almost one in the morning, pressed thigh to shoulder with Shou, propped up against the pillow monster they’ve made of the headboard. Ritsu’s laptop is balanced somewhat precariously between them, tinnily blaring some shitty B-movie that Shou had drug out of the dredges of his old hard drive for them to laugh at.

He’s not paid much attention, a little too tired to follow the plot, a little too giddy, occasionally just repeating Apartment 401, 37 Amaranth Street, Grain City to himself in his head.

Ritsu dozes off on his first night in his new apartment with his best friend, and the laptop on his leg is too warm but his feet are too cold, and the gelled spikes of Shou’s hair are vaguely tickling his face, and he’s going to have to do everything tomorrow, but beyond the easy, drowsy happiness of we actually fucking did it, he can’t really bring himself to care.