Observer on Duty: Popular Serizawa Acts Weird Around Me Fanfiction

Aug 24, 2026

517

This psychological BL romance is a fanfiction novel based on the Japanese drama Popular Serizawa Acts Weird Around Me. Living together in a cramped apartment, aspiring writer Suzuki sets a strict rule: stop using his overly theatrical housemate, Serizawa, as automatic story material. But as a looming writing deadline, sticky labels, and Serizawa's playful antics blur the lines between art and reality, Suzuki must establish new 'terms of use' before losing both his manuscript and his love.

LanguageEnglish

CategoryStory & Novel

FormatPDF

AccessFree to download

Popular Serizawa Acts Weird Around Me: Terms of Use

Chapter 1 — The Apartment Has a New Rule

Chapter 2 — A Face for the Blank Page

Chapter 3 — Two Schedules and One Rice Cooker

Chapter 4 — Mori’s Red Pen

Chapter 5 — The Scene He Wasn’t Supposed to See

Chapter 6 — The Muse Takes a Day Off

Chapter 7 — Terms of Use

Chapter 8 — The Choice at the Crossing

Chapter 9 — Submit Before the Rain Stops

Chapter 10 — After the Page Is Gone

Chapter 1 — The Apartment Has a New Rule

Suzuki woke because someone had placed a label on his forehead.

He knew this before opening his eyes. The paper was too light to be a bandage and too carefully positioned to be accidental. When he moved his eyebrows, it tugged against his skin.

For several seconds he lay still beneath the thin spring blanket, listening to the apartment breathe around him. The refrigerator hummed. A truck groaned along the street below. Somewhere near the bathroom, a door opened and closed with unnecessary care.

Suzuki reached up and peeled the label away.

SLEEPING PERSON. DO NOT DISTURB UNLESS BEARING TEA.

He stared at it.

From the kitchen came the unmistakable sound of the kettle being lifted, followed by a pause.

“Serizawa,” he called.

“No one by that name lives here.”

Suzuki sat up. His hair fell into his eyes, and the room tilted briefly from too little sleep. Beside his desk, a new calendar had been pinned over the old one. He had circled the next three weeks in red and written WORK across every weekday morning in block letters.

Underneath, in smaller handwriting, he had added a rule:

No automatic use of Serizawa as material.

He had written it the previous night after reorganizing the desk, clearing the table, and moving the laundry basket away from the window. He wanted the apartment to feel less like a place where he happened to work and more like a place where work happened.

So far, the apartment appeared unconvinced.

The kettle was not where it belonged. His laptop charger had vanished from the outlet beside the desk. A white label marked the empty space.

CHARGER HABITAT.

Another had been attached to the rice cooker.

RICE DISPENSING DEVICE. APPROACH WITH RESPECT.

Suzuki found Serizawa standing at the kitchen counter in a pale shirt and dark trousers, holding two mugs. He was wearing his glasses, though he had no apparent need for them, and his expression was composed in the solemn manner of someone waiting to be questioned by the police.

“Where is my charger?”

Serizawa glanced toward the living room. “The electronic cord has migrated.”

“It’s behind the sofa.”

“Then it has been found.”

“And why is there a label on the rice cooker?”

“It seemed lonely.”

“The rice cooker?”

“Everything in this apartment has a purpose except me.”

He delivered the line with such grave restraint that Suzuki nearly smiled. He held it back out of habit, which only made Serizawa’s mouth twitch.

They had been living together for four months. The apartment was small enough for Suzuki to cross it in six steps, provided no laundry was drying in the middle of the room. There was one bedroom, one narrow kitchen, one bathroom with a fan that rattled whenever it rained, and a living room divided into two work areas by a low shelf.

They had agreed that the arrangement would provide “healthy personal space.”

In practice, Serizawa’s notebooks occupied the shelf between them, Suzuki’s pens migrated to Serizawa’s side, and their phone chargers had formed a shared ecosystem with no clear borders.

Suzuki accepted the mug. “You have tea.”

“You are no longer prohibited from disturbance.”

“That was a joke?”

“I would never joke about apartment regulations.”

The label from Suzuki’s forehead lay on the counter between them. Serizawa picked it up and examined the back as though checking its legal validity.

Suzuki looked toward the calendar. The first morning of his new schedule had been reserved for writing. Not sorting reference notes. Not rewriting an old assignment. Not staring at a familiar premise until it became respectable enough to pass for something new.

Writing.

He carried his tea to the desk.

The project folder waited on the desktop, still unnamed. Inside were three pages of notes, a collection of disconnected images, and one sentence Suzuki had written at two in the morning:

A person who watches everyone carefully may still misunderstand the one person standing closest to him.

He had not decided whether it was a premise or merely an accusation.

Behind him, Serizawa moved through the kitchen with exaggerated quiet. A cupboard opened. A spoon touched ceramic. The chair by the table scraped backward one measured inch.

Suzuki opened a blank document.

The cursor blinked.

He typed:

The man at the station knew how to recognize departures.

He stopped.

From the other side of the room came a soft, deliberate cough.

Suzuki did not look around.

The man at the station knew how to recognize departures. He could tell who was leaving by the way they held their tickets...

A shadow crossed the wall.

Suzuki continued.

...by the pressure of their fingers, the angle of their shoulders, the number of times they checked the electronic board.

“Excuse me,” Serizawa said.

Suzuki’s fingers stopped.

Serizawa stood beside the bookshelf, holding one of Suzuki’s notebooks open in both hands. His posture was too formal, his expression too solemn. He had changed into a long black coat despite the mild weather, and a scarf hung loosely around his neck.

Suzuki turned in his chair. “What are you doing?”

“I’m waiting for a train.”

“You’re in our living room.”

“Many journeys begin in unexpected places.”

“You’re not wearing shoes.”

“A detail known only to a sharp observer.”

Serizawa turned his head toward the window. He did it beautifully, not too quickly, as though he had heard something behind him, but not slowly enough to look theatrical. His eyes fixed on his reflection in the glass.

Suzuki looked at the open notebook. “That’s mine.”

“I found it abandoned.”

“You took it off my desk.”

“I rescued it from an unsafe environment.”

“Put it back.”

Serizawa closed the notebook. Instead of returning it, he tucked it against his chest. “If you insist.”

“Serizawa.”

The coat, the scarf, the notebook, the station-stranger act: it was all too much. Serizawa was usually playful, but his playfulness had a loose, bright quality. This was controlled. Each pause had been placed. Each movement seemed designed to be noticed.

Suzuki had spent years noticing Serizawa’s movements.

That was precisely the problem.

He turned back to the screen. “I’m working.”

“I see.”

“You can sit down.”

“I have been warned not to disturb the person bearing tea.”

“That label was on my forehead.”

“I was following the rule.”

“Then why did you interrupt me?”

“I did not interrupt you. The mysterious stranger entered your field of vision.”

Suzuki closed his eyes.

The chair shifted behind him. For nearly a minute, there was silence. Then a small object rolled across the floor and tapped the leg of his desk.

A bottle cap.

Suzuki looked down. Another label had been stuck to it.

UNIDENTIFIED OBJECT. APPROACH WITH CAUTION.

He picked it up and set it beside the keyboard.

The document remained empty except for the two lines about the station.

He tried again.

The man at the station knew how to recognize departures, but not how to stop one.

That was better.

He added a third sentence, then a fourth. A woman in a yellow raincoat. A train delayed by six minutes. A locked service door. The details arrived in small pieces, vivid but disconnected. Whenever he tried to join them, the scene collapsed into atmosphere. When he gave the man dialogue, the words sounded borrowed from something Suzuki had read before.

He deleted a paragraph.

Behind him, Serizawa began humming.

It was not a song Suzuki recognized. Three notes repeated with careful irregularity, like someone trying to remember a melody while pretending not to care whether he succeeded.

“Are you going somewhere?” Suzuki asked.

“Possibly.”

“With that coat?”

“The weather is unpredictable.”

“It’s twelve degrees.”

“Exactly.”

“Your shoes are by the door.”

“A traveler may leave without them.”

Suzuki turned again.

Serizawa had moved to the entrance. One hand rested on the doorknob; the other held the scarf across his mouth. His eyes met Suzuki’s in the narrow mirror beside the door.

For one brief moment, the performance slipped.

There was a question there.

Not about the coat. Not about the shoes.

Suzuki felt it and looked away first.

His phone vibrated on the desk.

The message was from Mori.

Good morning. I read the notes you sent. The atmosphere is promising, but I need a proposal, not a folder of fragments. Please send a concrete synopsis, main character outline, and ten sample pages by Friday at 6 p.m. If you are still pursuing this, decide what the protagonist wants before you add more scenes.

FAQs

What is the plot of Terms of Use: Popular Serizawa Acts Weird Around Me Fanfiction?

Terms of Use: Popular Serizawa Acts Weird Around Me Fanfiction follows housemates Suzuki and Serizawa as they navigate the boundaries between creativity and romance. Facing a tight publishing deadline from his editor, Suzuki tries to stop borrowing Serizawa's life and gestures as automatic story material, leading the duo to negotiate healthy emotional 'terms of use' for their relationship.

Who are the main characters in Terms of Use: Popular Serizawa Acts Weird Around Me Fanfiction?

The story centers on Suzuki, an anxious aspiring writer struggling to meet a manuscript deadline, and Serizawa, his playful, theatrical housemate who leaves quirky labeled sticky notes around their shared apartment.

What is the central theme of Terms of Use: Popular Serizawa Acts Weird Around Me Fanfiction?

The central theme explores the ethics of using real-life affection as artistic material. It delves into vulnerability, consent, and learning to love someone as an independent person rather than a convenient creative muse.

How does this story connect to the original series Popular Serizawa Acts Weird Around Me?

This fanfiction builds directly upon the characters and dynamic of the Japanese BL drama Popular Serizawa Acts Weird Around Me, expanding their domestic cohabitation into an intimate, character-driven story about art, boundaries, and mutual trust.

Aug 24, 2026

517

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