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Dimple arched an ephemeral eyebrow at Shigeo's sluggish entrance, tired shuffle across his room, and ultimate collapse into the chair in front of his desk.
"Long day at school?"
Shigeo buried his face in his arms, not answering him. That was no proverbial skin off Dimple's nose, since he'd of course witnessed Shigeo's entire day firsthand, floating just above his shoulder.
Nothing major had happened, nothing to bring to the attention of those busybody mortals that considered themselves Shigeo's keepers. Nothing to do with psychic powers. It was mundane as mundane could be. The kid had simply had a long day at school. Hadn't retained the specific minutia his teacher called upon him to recite, had embarrassed himself in P.E. in front of his tittering classmates, the combined age of which didn’t even approach two centuries, etc, etc. Painfully boring stuff for a boy his age and in his century. Would be less than a blip on the timeline of his lifespan.
Shigeo was only fourteen years old, though, and to him these blips felt like worlds crashing down.
Dimple hovered above him and sighed. He made the strongest attempt to think from the perspective of a centurial being that he had in ages, which was a half-assed effort still, and finally said, "Look. Naturally you made some mistakes. You made some bad choices. Life's about choosing for yourself and making your own mistakes, kid. It's fine."
Shigeo turned his head to peek up at him then, still melancholy, but now a bit curious. "Dimple?"
"Yeah?"
Shigeo buried his face again. "You just surprised me by saying that, is all. Unlike you..."
"What? I'm always giving you beautiful nuggets of wisdom. Like I said, you make bad choices. Just because you choose not to listen to me-- Hm?" Abruptly, Dimple was right in Shigeo's face, face twisted into an irate goonish grin, daring the brat to repeat whatever ostensibly smart remark he had just made under his breath. "You wanna say that so I can hear, Shige-chan? Eh!?"
"Sometimes, I wish I didn't have to make choices..." Shigeo whispered again.
Dimple's threatening expression switched to confusion. He backed off, frowning.
"You can be my obedient follower at any time, just say the word," He offered. Shigeo gave him a flat look for his generosity.
It was a war of attrition: Shigeo leaned over his homework with determination to devote himself to it, Dimple floated around his head like a gnat, determined to be entertained. Shigeo swatted at him as if he really was a fly. His hand passed ineffectively through his incorporeality, but the insult did not miss Dimple.
He goaded, "Hey, Shigeo, wanna know the exact date of your death?" Not that he actually knew, of course, but messing with mortals was fun.
"No." Shigeo said with flat disinterest.
"You're unbelievable." Dimple started a rant that was motivated, still, primarily by boredom. "You know I'm probably older than your entire traceable ancestry? You're not interested in that? I've been the birth and death and body of several cults, any inquiries about that? There's a deity in your God-damned bedroom. Oughta say Me-damned."
"Forgive me, God." Shigeo said without inflection, without glancing up, so it took Dimple a long moment to realize that Shigeo, Shigeo Kageyama, who thought every compliment was genuine if you didn't set aside fifteen minutes to explain sarcasm to him, tambourine boy at parties, THAT Shigeo, had just mocked him. Dimple, an immortal entity, had just been sassed by a midschooler.
Suddenly looming over Shigeo stood a being, monolithically towering, so huge his head bent so as not to brush the ceiling, with bulging green muscles rippling dangerously, enraged and engorged veins pulsing with anger, and a wide mouth full of gritting, grinding teeth exposed in a snarling smile.
Dimple bent down further, practically engulfing the tiny seated mortal with his colossal stature. It forced Shigeo to crane his neck harshly to meet his eyes, and Dimple liked the shock he saw. He laughed low in his throat. "Ask for forgiveness one more time, Shigeo."
This is sure to startle him, Dimple thought to himself smugly. Shigeo didn't know that he'd been doing quite well finding low-level spirits to feed on lately. It's been a while since he last had the energy to maintain this form. Shigeo didn't usually have the creativity to make snide comments like that, and Dimple wasn't about to let the brat start workshopping on him. Perhaps this would teach him to mind his manners more.
What he hadn't expected was for a tiny voice to say, softly, tremblingly, "Forgive me, God..."
Shigeo looked embarrassed even as he said it. But he had said it. He stared up at Dimple with wide eyes, self-conscious pink cheeks, but something in his hitched breath radiated distinct willingness. Something in him had freely wanted to say that when he saw Dimple bearing down on him.
And Dimple wasn't about to let this go, not on his unending life.
"Repent, and you are forgiven." Dimple drawled, finding an old thrill in saying the words, an old addiction that always pulsed under the surface for him. He grinned, pressing closer to the boy in the chair, "God's ear is not deaf to your plea, and God's arm is strong enough to to lift you up. Do you wish for My almighty hand to brush away your troubles?" Shigeo hesitated. He looked at the algebra homework that had been torturing him for nearly two hours. And then he looked back up at Dimple, and he nodded. Oh, this was fun.
With strength that was not bound to the dictations of terrestrial physics (and anyway Shigeo weighed less than fifty kilograms) Dimple’s hands wrapped around his middle and easily lifted him from the chair. Shigeo made a startled noise, and tried to speak, "Dimple--"
"There's no need for a lamb to speak, only to follow." Dimple stopped him. Shigeo stared at him, then shut his mouth. Good, he was understanding. For once in his life, Shigeo was reading the atmosphere, and the tone in Dimple's voice and look in his eyes all said: This is a game, play with me.
He put Shigeo down on the floor, then suddenly stood with his arms crossed at the other side of the room. "A test of loyalty." He projected smoothly. Dimple opened his arms, each hulking bicep the thickness of Shigeo's entire body. "Come to Me, lamb of God."
Shigeo stood frozen, holding himself in his uncertain, timid way. Then, slowly, he padded towards Dimple. He never tore himself from Dimple’s eyes. When Shigeo reached him, his head came up only to the spirit's midsection, and that was with a somewhat conservative form attempting to be mindful of his ceiling height. This had not been part of Dimple's orders, but Shigeo lifted his arms and hugged Dimple around the waist, the least broad part he could hug, though his arms still only barely reached around his sides.
With his cheek pressed against the spirits firm abdomen, Shigeo couldn’t see Dimple’s look of surprise. Dimple realized only then how affection starved Shigeo was. Ordinarily it would’ve been difficult, even impossible to detect in the boy, because of his natural withdrawn nature. He’d always seemed like the type who wouldn’t know what to do with a hug if you gave him one. Who would’ve guessed that Shigeo, of all people, craved the chance to play in a game of power?
Dimple put an engulfing hand on Shigeo’s back, and pressed his fingers into some pressure points. He liked the arch and soft noise it produced from the boy in his arms, and he also confirmed his suspicions; the kid’s back was tense as all hell. Poor little mortal needed a break from his quaint little stresses. It explained why he’d been snappier lately. It also helped explain why he was so unexpectedly willing to play subservient to Dimple, to sink into a fantasy of giving up control.
That told Dimple all he needed to know about where to take this. And the thought gave him a shiver of delight, fed his own hunger to be in control, too.
His hand, spanning from thumb-to-pinky the entire width of Mob’s back, rubbed between his shoulder blades, down his shuddering spine, and back up again. He used a tiny bit of energy to make his hand radiate heat, a few notches warmer than the average flesh vessel, and it was obvious it was having a strong effect on Shigeo. Even through his shirt, it was making him moan under his breath without realizing.
“Surrender, and you are deserving of God’s love... Good... Goood boy...” The last part was breathed out unintentionally husky; This game was exciting Dimple too. He hadn’t expected things to be going THIS well. Damn, but Shigeo could be pretty cute. He was rubbing his cheek a bit against Dimple’s abdomen now, still apparently unconcious of his vulnerable behaviors.
Dimple put his hands around Shigeo’s middle again, picking him up with mindfulness of the fragile human bones and thin flesh that his grip could crush and bruise if he wasn’t gentle. Shigeo hung with kittenish compliance in his hands. Dimple sat on the floor, crossing his overlarge legs, dominating a quarter of the total floorspace in Shigeo’s bedroom just to sit. He settled Shigeo in his lap; the boy sat on his treetrunk thigh, his own legs folded up shyly like a newborn fawn. Now, he avoided Dimple’s eyes.
“Now, Shigeo, that won’t do.” Dimple was amused. He lifted Shigeo’s chin with his hand, forcing him to peek up from under his fringe. “Hiding from God is pointless. Your soul is laid bare for Me.” He ran a finger down Mob’s cherub soft cheek. “Do not feel shame in baring all your needs to Me, for relying not on Me but on yourself is sin. Depend on God utterly, and feel God’s love flood your thoughts.”
Dimple nearly grinned, but that would've spoiled the effect. The boy stared at up him with something that was nearly actual worship, or at least close enough that it fed Dimple deliciously. He looked downright adorable, cuddling into the crook of Dimple’s arm like that. Shigeo always gave off a bit of an air like he needed protection, but it was tenfold now.
He began to stroke the boy's soft hair. If he were not in perfect control of the amount of pressure in his fingers, he might’ve bruised the little thing’s face, or crushed his skull. It took surgical precision for him to pet Shigeo this gently, to make him close his eyes and shudder like this.
Dimple whispered in his ear, “Of all My flock, you are My favorite.” God wasn’t supposed to play favorites, but God made the rules. If Dimple had a following at the moment as large as during the peak of his reign, a small nation’s worth of servile zealots, he could easily see this pale little lamb petted and coddled in his lap while he commanded crowds with a wave of his hand. Not much a follower anymore, exactly-- Shigeo need not waste his time praying to him like the rest, because every thought would've been converted into devotion, every inch of him would be made a child of God. For Shigeo, to breath would be to pray. More than a follower-- a blessed child, a beautiful seraph, a beloved pet.
A knock on the door. "Nii-san, dinner's ready."
Shigeo started, looking as if he had been shaken awake from a deep sleep, still half in the dream. Dimple felt the same.
It took a moment, but Shigeo found the voice to answer, "Thank you, I'll be right down." Footsteps faded from the door.
Shigeo looked up at Dimple, still cradled in his arms. Slowly, embarrassment began to trickle back into his dazed expression.
"Don't be like that, Shigeo. It was fun for me too." Dimple grinned at him, red cheeks stretching impishly. He stood up in a fluid motion, listening to the boy's half-concealed squeak of surprise. Ahh, he'd let himself go a bit. He hadn't expected today to turn out so fun. This new business of complacently letting Dimple carry him was a good look for Shigeo, it suited him. Dimple anticipated much fewer spells of boredom in the future, now that he knew this meek little mortal had such an interesting taste in stress relief.
He finally set Shigeo down on the floor. He lowered himself, close to Shigeo's ear and whispered, "Remember to say grace at dinner for me."
By the time Shigeo turned around, the room was empty.