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normal-person-i-promise · 2 months ago

Text

jom tengok lampu

(lets go see the lights)

reigen x reader hurt/comfort. tw for negative self talk (self esteem issues)

You scoff, casting your gaze to the floor.

"It's rotten work, Arataka. Don't you have better things to do?"

He hums, brushing his thumbs absentmindedly on your tear-streaked cheeks as he thinks —though it's not like he has to.

"It's not. Not if it's you."

Oh. Okay.

It's a quiet knock to your door. Barely audible, barely there.

★ ★ ★

It sounds so... Scared, so wary; as if the wood will break, as if the door will fall off of its hinges and splinter on the floor. The sound is gentle as it reverberates through the plaster, almost like a careful whisper to a crying child.

You take a deep breath. You comb your hair back with a shaky hand, dust off your shirt and push yourself off the floor. You argue with yourself as you walk slowly, slowly to the door.

Is it necessary to answer? Does it even matter? Like, come on. Who would it even be?

A neighbour complaining about the noise? A mischievous kid? A trick of the wind? That isn't worth your time. This whole thing isn't worth your time. This whole thing isn't worth your energy, what little you have of it. You don't need to check.

Who even cares about you, really?

Scoffing under your breath, your shaking hands hover in front of the lock, still thinking.

Come on. Come on, be reasonable. Think, just for one moment of your life. Think. Is this worth your time? Do you want to bother someone? If they see your state, they're going to ask what's wrong, you know. Do you really want to give them their answer? You've never trusted anyone to know that, and for good reason.

What could they even do? They can do nothing to help you, that's right.

You're wasting people's time and energy. Again.

You grip the sharp metal key tightly in your hand, the cold teeth digging into your palm — and when you feel the sting, you press deeper, leaving tiny red indents.

You don't have to, you know. No one's forcing you. You could go back, sit back down on the floor and do nothing for the rest of the day. Leave this poor person alone; you don't need to bother anyone if you can deal with this perfectly fine by yourself.

Just as you're backing up from the door quietly, so as to not let the person on the other side hear your footsteps, the knock comes again.

It's firmer. It's louder, fuller, more sure of itself, and the person— the man, calls your name through the wood.

You know what? Fine. Be selfish. Burden someone. You're going to regret it later.

You loosen your hand around the key, surveying the damage — nothing much, really. Just some small, pinkish dents in the surface of your skin. Whatever. It's whatever. You press the key into the lock, turning it slowly, agonisingly, and twisting the doorknob.

This is stupid. You're wasting both your time, and whoever's at the other end of the door. You're making this worse for everyone.

You're such a burden.

You finally almost... Pry the door open. And it's...

"Reigen?" You ask, confused. He... Looks distraught, looks... Worried. God, why him? That's the last person you want to bother.

His brows are creased, his mouth is set in a hard frown. His eyes are scanning your face, trying to find what lurks behind your tired gaze.

"You, uh..." Arataka starts hesitantly, pausing as he grimaces.

Wow. There's really no way to do this tactfully, huh?

"You okay? You haven't been showing up to work for a few days, I haven't seen any online presence from you, uh..."

God, he's rambling again.

Can you really blame him, though? He's worried. Arataka's worried about you.

You pause, taking in his words.

Are you okay? Are you okay? That... That's the question he came here to ask you? That's why he's here?

Your vision goes all blurry and your eyes grow annoyingly watery as you raise trembling hands to dry the tears before they can fall. You press your sleeves harshly into your eyelids, the fabric burning against the sensitive skin.

God, god, god, okay, okay, that's fine. That's not an issue, right? You're not going to start crying, right? Especially in front of him? You're weak. You shouldn't have answered the door, and all you're doing is bothering people with stupid issues you can deal with by yourself. You're making him hate you, you know.

Bringing your hands down, you shove a fake smile onto your face, the wide grin not reaching your eyes.

"I'm fine! I'm fine, really, I—" you pause to take in a shaky breath —"I'm not sure why it's coming out so warbly, but I'm fine."

Arataka pauses. He stares at you, studies you.

He wants to believe you, he really, really does, but it's just that... Everything, from the way you stand to the way your eyes avoid his, they... They scream "not okay". You've never talked so quietly, your body language has never been this closed off, you've had such an utterly defeated look behind such dead eyes.

You clearly need some kind of help, whether you want to admit it or not.

"Are you sure?" He asks gently.

The smile falls.

You're not going to lie to Arataka, right? Lying would make things worse.

"...No," you mumble, burying your face in your hands, almost closing in on yourself as you begin to cry.

"Not really."

Arataka panics.

He— okay, he did know that you weren't okay, but he didn't expect for you to start crying at your doorstep—!

He quickly reaches his hands out for a moment, like an invitation to a hug, though his arms aren't opened wide enough and his movements are hesitant, almost like what he's doing might make you worse.

A heartbeat passes. Then two.

He's just... Standing there, sweating buckets, his arms opened shakily.

It's barely a second later before run into him. You bury your head in the crook of his neck, wrap your arms around him tight enough to break a bone, squeeze him hard enough to force the air out of his lungs. You— you heave quiet sobs and soft sniffles, and... God, does Arataka feel bad.

You... Shouldn't have to go through this. You shouldn't have to go through any of this.

Arataka slowly, carefully brings his hands around your waist, holding you securely to him, and he pats your back, pets your hair, rubs soothing circles on your skin. It's clear he's trying to calm you as he lets you cry, and by god is it working.

He seems... Worried. It seems like he loves you, too. Why else would he be here, anyway?

"Woah, woah, hey, hey, it's okay, it's okay," he whispers in soft, soothing murmurs, stroking and patting your back slowly, in a manner similar to how one would comfort a baby.

"It's okay. You're okay. I'm here now, okay?"

You tighten your arms around him. He lets you cry, he... He comforts you, for god's sake.

Arataka cares about you — he cares about you a lot — and it... It hurts a little to see you in such... Distress, in such an utter state of... Of distraught. It doesn't sit well with him. Who hurt you like this?

He nestles his face in your hair, breathing in your shampoo, as he thinks. What can he do to make you feel better? You're... Crying. You're crying into him, like you're trusting enough to do that with him.

Gently pushing you off him just enough for him to look at your face, he cradles your cheeks. His hands are warm and comforting on your face as he wipes away your tears with a thumb, looking at you with soft, sweet eyes — looking at you with such a worried gaze, searching your face for any signs of what has caused you this... Pain.

He has to help. He can't stand the thought of leaving you like this, so utterly broken and exhausted.

"You want something to eat? I, uh—" Arataka laughs awkwardly, but stops quickly when he sees your watery eyes again —"I'm not the best at cooking, but I can whip up an okay-ish stir-fried noodle."

He pauses, watching you for a reaction; any reaction. Can you talk to him, please? Tell him what he needs to do.

His hands tighten around your face. Maybe you want something sweet?

"I... Can try to make cookies?"

You hum, holding his wrists to your face in a weak grip.

His hands are... Warm. Really, really warm, and really, really gentle. He's holding you like he'd hold a young child or sickly animal, with a soft tenderness and a loving touch, with such care and consideration it makes you tear up again.

He really does seem to care, huh?

No one's cared this much. No one's ever cared this much.

Not enough to check on you. Not enough to ask you how you're doing. Not enough to hug you, to soothe you, to touch you. Can you really blame yourself for crying? Can you really blame yourself for being just a little bit selfish, for accepting his help when you've done nothing to deserve it?

You can, you realise.

"Why?" You ask in a small voice.

Arataka seems taken aback. He looks, quite frankly, horrified, as though the answer was right in front of your eyes the entire time. He opens his mouth to argue, closes it, then opens it again, but rethinks that one, too.

"I want to make you feel better," he says with a slight, though hesitant smile.

You scoff, casting your gaze to the floor.

"It's rotten work, Reigen. Don't you have better things to do?"

He hums, brushing his thumbs absentmindedly on your tear-streaked cheeks as he thinks —though it's not like he has to.

"It's not. Not if it's you."

Oh. Okay.

He casts his gaze to your surprisingly clean house, just checking. He'll clean the house if he has to — the floors are dusty, he doubts your bed is made, and your tables are messy.

"I'll just clean up first, yeah? Then we'll... I dunno, get a bite to eat?"

You nod wordlessly, sniffling, and that's all Arataka needs.

He gently, slowly takes his hands off your face, pressing a careful kiss to your forehead as he pushes past you and enters your house. He slips off his shoes and hangs his grey suit jacket on the wall as he surveys the damage.

Not that much, surprisingly.

He hunts around your house for a bit, looking for the broom— which he finds in the corner, and, taking your dustpan, he begins to sweep up the dust and hair off the floors. He cleans up the desks and tables from all your... Your junks, depositing them into their proper places and sorting everything out.

There's a handful clothes to fold, so he does that quickly— and thankfully, there's no dishes, so he doesn't have to wash anything.

All while he's cleaning, you just... Watch him. You'd closed and locked the front door, now just... Standing silently, watching as he goes from place to place in a hurry.

Every few minutes or so, Arataka would ask if he could throw out this piece of paper, or recycle this plastic packaging. He'd check if you wanted any of the trash lying around your house, making sure you didn't want it before throwing it out.

It takes about an hour for him to get a quick drink of water, exhausted.

He's... Rushing. He wants to get this done as quickly as he can so that he can go and treat you to something. Anything that would make you feel better. Touch, food, gifts, words... Anything.

He hates seeing you upset. He hates that you didn't reach out to him, too, but he can't blame you. He just wants to make you feel better. He'll do anything to get that familiar smile back on your face.

But first, he needs to clean up.

He pushes himself off the chair, getting back to work with his golden hair slick with sweat, stuck to his forehead.

Does he enjoy this? No. Not in a million years.

...But does he enjoy making you feel better? God, always.

Once he's done, he wipes the sweat from his brow, his white dress shirt clinging to his back.

He'd come at about... Six PM, just after work ended, and now it's eight.

"Ta da!" He exclaims proudly, though tiredly to you, a dopey little grin adorning his face as he gestures to your now-clean house.

"All clean!"

It... Is. You didn't know Arataka could clean, quite frankly — and you didn't know he could do it so well. It's cleaner than you've ever seen it.

You sniffle, rubbing your eyes. Talking is... Too hard, right now, too tiring, so you just smile weakly at him. That makes his smile fall off his face a little, his gaze growing worried all over again.

He pauses for a moment, thinking.

Ah, right—! He'd promised to do something for you, right? Food, desserts, drinks? Whatever it is, he'll buy it. He'd do it all if it meant you'll be happy.

Arataka clears his throat, getting your eyes on him again.

That's good, that's good. He can see familiarity behind them.

"You, uh," he gestures weakly to the door, your eyes following.

"You wanna go somewhere? I'll pay," he offers, smiling, before quickly adding, "but it's totally okay if you don't want to! I mean, you're— you look pretty tired, I—"

He pauses, almost hesitates. Is it in his place to do this for you? Can he? You're... Y'know, you're his employee, and he's your boss, it's not like it's exactly...

...Ah, whatever. Screw it.

"I can just... Hug you? That's what... That's what Mob likes, though he's... Not exactly your age..."

He trails off, a little embarrassed and a little contemplative.

Nevertheless, Arataka opens his arms, wide and confident.

And sure, yeah, he's... Sweaty, and sticky, and he smells bad, but... Come on. He's the first person who's ever done this kind of thing for you, showed such an immense amount of... Of care, and love, and worry, and... Come on. He did assure you he at least likes you, right? His behaviour... You only do this stuff if you like someone, right?

Right?

He rubs circles into your back as you both hug, his body warm against yours as you press yourself into him, squeezing his ribcage. Each time you'd squeeze, he'd squeeze right back, gently and worriedly.

His arms are comfortably tight and warm as he holds you tightly against him, your face buried in his white shirt. It's soft as you press your cheek into it, your tears staining the white fabric as you inhale the faint scent of his cologne.

About a minute passes before he pats your head almost impatiently, signalling he wants to ask you something.

He laughs awkwardly.

Combing his hands slowly through your hair as he talks, he's careful not to sound too harsh. "I'm, uh, pretty tired. You wanna go sit on your couch?"

He pauses.

"If that's okay with you."

You squeeze him once, twice, nodding against his chest, and Arataka smiles, walking slowly over to the couch.

He sits down first, keeping you standing for a moment before bringing you down with him, settling you comfortably in his lap. His arms wrap securely around your midsection, his head resting nicely on your shoulder.

"Better?" He asks, smiling, planting a kiss on your cheek.

This is so... Weird. This is all so weird, you're... You're being held lovingly by your boss, who also just cleaned your house, who also came because he was worried about you...?

It's... Amazing. It's amazing to be sitting so comfortably and casually in Arataka's lap, it's amazing to have his arms wrapped so firmly around your stomach, it's amazing how he'd press so many kisses to the back of your head.

Isn't this nice? It's clear you've both been wanting to do this for a very, very long time.

You lean back into his chest, placing your hands over his. You nod in agreement, in reply to his precious statements.

He hums, running careful hands through your hair, gently massaging your scalp as he untangles the knots from your hair. It's really, really nice for someone to be touching you so much, and so gently and carefully and tenderly. It's really nice. A lot nicer than you thought, actually.

And it doesn't even feel too intimate. It feels like the two of you have been lovers for years uncounted, like this is a normal everyday occurrence. It doesn't feel forced, or overbearing, or awkward, or anything. It feels natural. It feels like love he's held from you. Love he's held from you for a long time.

He sighs in either contentment or annoyance, you can't tell. "...I promised you food, right? Or do you not want to eat?"

You're just quiet, relishing in the feeling of Arataka's fingers tracing small, careful circles into your stomach.

"So do you... Want something? He asks. "We can... Go out, or... I can order something?"

He shifts you a little, to get you as comfortable as he can. Your body is facing away from him, your back pressed up tightly and comfortingly against his warm, warm chest, his arms wrapped nicely around your waist. The scent of salt is heavy in the air.

"Or we can sit here."

He presses his face into the crook of your neck, his warm breath tickling your skin.

"Hm?" He hums. "What do you think?"

Your reply is to nestle more deeply and comfortably where you're sitting, leaning back more heavily, almost weighing him down.

Arataka laughs a little.

"You just wanna sit here? Hm?" He kisses you again. "That's okay, too."

...

And it's silent again. Your breathing's shallow, and his is full and steady. Your heart rate is high, whilst his is low. It's quiet, now.

You hum a low tone, thinking over your words carefully.

"Do you love me?"

Arataka's movements pause abruptly, his hands freezing as they run up and down your arms. He takes a moment to think.

Oh. That must mean he doesn't like you, then. It's okay. He can just leave now, you're okay.

"Of course I love you," he says quietly. "...I'm... Not exactly subtle."

And he's right. He blushes, he stares, he stutters — it's a stereotypical crush. It's not hard to miss. He loves you, and you love him. That's fair, right?

"...Why?" You ask.

He pauses.

"Why? Why? Oh, come on. Don't tell me you can't see how easy you are to love?"

You hum, and Arataka grows uneasy. He twirls a strand of hair around a finger. "You're so sweet to me, all the time. So polite and understanding and patient and loving. You're so fun to talk to, too, your little jokes always make me laugh."

He presses a soft, warm kiss to your cheek. "And you're really attractive."

You fidget with Arataka's free hand, squeezing and bending the fingers, running your fingertips over the body knuckles. His fingers are really square, and kinda long.

"So I love you. Okay?"

His tone is almost unsure. "It's okay if you don't love me back, I'm not—"

"No."

Well that came out louder than you wanted to. He jumped. You didn't mean to startle him, you just want— need him to know.

"...No. I... I love you. I really love you." You reply, pressing his hand to your face. "Love you tonnes."

He chuckles, though he's careful not to move too much and make you too uncomfortable.

And the two of you just sit there for a while, not doing anything. It's quiet, but you're not cold nor warm. You're just nice, just comfortable enough.

Distantly, muffled by the glass windowpane, you can hear the city. You can hear them partying and drinking and having fun on a weekend night, you can hear the cars and the train and every other in-between noise or sound you can think of. It's really nice being held like this, warm hands running over your cold skin.

He hums absentmindedly to himself.

"...Hey," Arataka starts softly. He hesitates, his voice careful and his tone tentative.

"...Do you..." A pause. "...Do you want me to stay for the night? I wouldn't mind so much, I just..."

You nod, and that's all he needs. No more questions, no more words, no more voice. Just you, and him, on the couch during a cloudy night.

#purely self indulgent yhis is for me and me alone #im givin it to you guys because im just That Cool #reigen x reader #reigen arataka x reader #arataka reigen x reader #hurt/comfort #gn reader

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