Work Text:
It was another day of work. Reigen's hands tapped away on the corporate computer that was barely keeping together under his fingers. The lights barely illuminating the office were dim and flickering, sickly yellow in a way that made him nauseous.
It was his fourth day of work. He was writing a file - no, several. His boss had harshly requested (more demanded) they be finished and on his desk by Sunday. He'd have to do overtime. Unpaid Overtime.
Bummer.
His colleague whirled around next to him, flashing him a goofy grin.
“Hey, Arataka,” He swivelled closer in a way that was probably supposed to be cool if it wasn't for the fact his chair had a broken wheel. With every annoying squeak of the man's cheap leather shoes, the chair lurched.
“So, you're coming to the corporate dinner tonight, right? I heard Uzamaki is bringing rice crackers.”
Reigen left his computer, smiling thinly.
“Nah, I have overtime. Our boss is working me to the core,” He sighed dramatically.
“That sucks,” His colleague mumbled, seemingly losing interest.
“Can't you just get off? You've not been here long, man, Boss might let you go.” He suggested, fiddling with a discarded pot of noodles.
Reigen shook his head, grimacing.
“No can do. I have a bunch of files to complete and I think this is his way of testing me.”
His colleague broke off into a tangent about how unfair Boss Tanaka was and Reigen tuned him out. He didn't feel bad about it since the bastard was now talking about missing his wife.
Fuck, he needs a lay.
When he looked back up, his colleague was nowhere in sight. A quick glance around the room provided him with the fact that he was just at the coffee table now, speaking to the others.
His fingers went click-clack on his keyboard.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_–_-_-_-_-_-_
He got home late that night. Well, he wouldn't call it home, really, more like a home. It wasn't home, not that intimate.
There were a few takeaway boxes still scattered in and around the sink which he's procrastinating picking up. Everything seemed to ache.
Laying on his bed, overcoat discarded near his mattress, Reigen has one moment of calm to himself.
He wondered how people could live like this. A monotonous cycle of work and cheap food. Food to lull the feeling of wrongness. Was this anyway to lead life?
He felt empty but at the same time he was so full he could burst. Is this how he would go about things forever?
He'd ask himself why but he already knew. Money. Steadiness. A schedule.
What if he didn't want any of that?
He wants to be free but what exactly even is that? What is freedom to the conglomerates?
Reigen kneads his cheeks and touches his hair.
His fingers twitch against blond strands when the cheap clock on his nightstand goes tick-tock.
He didn't want this. He wanted to hide, he wanted to scream, he wanted to kiss and hug and feel something fulfilling.
Reigen idly pondered what file he was going to start on tomorrow and how long it would take. He couldn't bring himself to feel any sort of way about that.