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Serizawa Katsuya would have much preferred if the man in black had not been in the room right now.
Or rather, the spirit that had possessed him, who manifested his control on the poor man’s appearance by the two, distinct red circles on his cheeks. Serizawa had learnt to treat Dimple as a colleague in their office, but it was difficult to elevate his trust beyond that when he took possession of someone else’s body so often (coupled with the Broccoli incident – but that was something else entirely). However, both he and Reigen had reassured him this arrangement was consensual, so Serizawa had to take their words for it.
He arrived just as Reigen left the room – perfectly timed – after Serizawa had just asked Reigen if they could talk in private after he relieved himself. He had something he wanted to give. Now he realized he would not be able to do that with Dimple around; but then Dimple was almost always around wherever Reigen was so he should not be surprised.
Serizawa felt the letter against his pulsing chest. He never thought a piece of paper could feel so heavy. He glanced over his shoulder to look at Dimple who was hovering near Reigen’s bookshelf as though in search for something. This was, he thought, a fine opportunity to proof-read his letter and make some last-minute amendments.
He reached into his inner pocket and gently pulled the paper out. It was slightly creased from having been folded, but otherwise it remained presentable. His handwriting wasn’t the neatest but he hoped the contents would make up for it. Serizawa did not think he was particularly talented with words, but during his own seclusion from society he had spent many hours poring over books to keep him company, which he’d like to think had influenced him in his literary abilities. Quite nervously, he began reading his letter:
Reigen Arataka,
Forgive me for being selfish; it is getting more and more difficult to bottle up what has been storming inside me. Truth is I have been reduced to a thing that simply yearns for you. Your kindness resonated through my glass bones, in the beginning of everything, and until now has been what welded the pieces together. I wrote this in-between the agonizing hours of my sleep where you’ve been etched into my vision; in the blackness of night was you; between the ticks of the clock was you; the force which compelled me to sit at my desk and write this shitty, undeserving letter was you.
I ask for no answer and simply wish to let you know: I struggle, gladly, every day, with understanding how essential to me you have become. If, however, you wish to give me an answer—
“What’s that?”
Serizawa jolted, instinctively crumpling the letter in his hand. He felt a flush of heat wash over his face and searing the tips of his ears. Stuffing his letter in his trouser pocket and sweeping around, he was met by Dimple’s (or rather, his host’s) prying gaze, which shifted into a look of surprise at Serizawa’s intense reaction. Serizawa stared at the bright red circles on his cheeks, finding them easier to rest his gaze upon than his eyes.
“It’s nothing,” Serizawa mumbled. His jaw clenched. To his horror, a smirk began to spread across Dimple’s mouth.
“My, my, Serizawa,” Dimple crooned softly, “I’ve always speculated you to have some feelings for the guy but I never expected him to have you wrapped around his finger.”
“You’re – you’re mistaken!” Serizawa tried to sturdy his voice despite an audible tremble. A thin sheet of sweat began to form across his forehead and now, more than ever, he wanted to cease his existence. “This has nothing to do with Reigen-san. Not in that way.”
Dimple obviously wasn’t fooled. “You don’t have to hide it from me, you know. Do you think I’d actually care enough to tell him?”
“I don’t trust you.”
He thought he witnessed Dimple flinch. “You didn’t have to be so straightforward about it.”
The spirit, however, seemed genuinely uninterested in pursuing the topic even further and moved towards Reigen’s desk. There he picked up his near-empty coffee mug and gave it a little swirl, inspecting its cold contents with a bored expression. He spoke, “I’d hardly call Reigen the poetic type. A more direct approach is better, if you ask me. But then I could be wrong.” Serizawa’s ears burned as he watched Dimple bring the rim to his lips and sipped the last dregs of coffee. As he did so, Serizawa couldn’t help but think about how many times Dimple’s (or, at least, that body’s) lips met Reigen’s, and did it kiss the part where Reigen placed his lips to drink? And the broad, calloused hand which held the mug – how often did it hold him the way Serizawa sometimes ached to? The thought made the room around him spin.
Dimple pulled away from the mug and looked dismally into it. “Too bitter,” he muttered, to nobody in particular.
At this, Serizawa collapsed onto the sofa with a low hiss and ran his hand vigorously through his hair. Dimple couldn’t care less about how Serizawa felt towards Reigen. It made him wonder just how deep their relationship was, or if it was as superficial as they tried to make it seem. Serizawa was apparently not significant enough to pose a threat to whatever it was they had which somewhat frustrated him - not that Serizawa would ever want to ruin anything Reigen was happily part of. But if only...
“Dimple?”
The spirit grunted, turning to look at him.
“Has Reigen-san ever said anything about me?”
Dimple eyed him calculatingly before breaking into an amused grin. “So you do like him.”
“I just want to know.”
“Hmm,” Dimple hummed, coyly holding his chin between his thumb and index finger. Serizawa immediately regretted raising his question. “Maybe sometimes.”
Serizawa felt his heart race. “What did he say?”
“Oh, he certainly thinks you’re sweet.”
This alone caused Serizawa’s chest cavity to constrict. His head grew dangerously light. He gulped. “What else?”
“Dunno, why don’t you ask him for yourself? Don’t look at me like that, you should know as well as I do that, despite the way he acts, he’s just as private as you probably are in certain matters.” He paused. “Well, maybe not as well. Even if I really know what he thinks of you, I’d kill all the fun in figuring things out yourself by telling. In a way, I’m helping you here.” He spread his hands out as if holding the obvious for both to see.
Serizawa looked down at his shoes and felt his heart sank. He realized that all this time he had been clutching on the paper in his pocket, which had inevitably turned soggy with sweat. Footsteps drew closer to him as Dimple approached, until Serizawa was looking down on a pair of newly-polished black shoes, a little larger than his. He felt a heavy hand rest on his shoulder, and warm breath pooling on the side of his face as Dimple leaned down to speak close to his ear.
“Listen, Serizawa, however you feel towards Reigen is none of my business. I’m not going to stop you from advancing. Hell, I’d even love to watch you try.” Serizawa felt his grip tighten on him like a vise. “But bear in mind I don’t like sharing, and I’d like to keep what I have going with that idiot for as long as possible.”
Serizawa’s head shot up in alert. “How long?”
Dimple straightened, now looking down at Serizawa with an expression he failed to read. “Depends.”
Serizawa suppressed a shiver. Towering above him and clad in black, Dimple loomed like a great vessel of malice. Having the body translate Dimple’s emotions to more human nuances made them more tangible, but it could also make him appear more sinister. Maybe it was the choice of host. Serizawa often wished he knew him for as long as Mob or Reigen had, but even if he did he wondered if he would still bear towards him the same wariness as he had now.
Just then, the door swung open and Reigen stood in the doorway holding up his mobile phone. “Client from yesterday called and wants her attic checked again, immediately. This time you both are coming with me.”
Dimple grinned. “Useless, aren’t you.”
“I didn’t think there was an actual presence,” Reigen scoffed. “It might have been solved if you were actually here with me yesterday, Dimple. Serizawa and Mob couldn’t come because they were in school.”
“Well, we’re here now so you can consider it handled,” Dimple retorted. He shoved his hands in his pockets, strode forwards to stand in front of Reigen and shrouded him from Serizawa’s view. “Tell me, what would your life be like without me?”
“More peaceful, I hope.”
“You wouldn’t want that, though.”
“Hm,” Reigen hummed, not giving further comments. Serizawa itched to see his expression. “You go down first. I need to discuss something with Serizawa.”
Dimple turned around and raised a brow at Serizawa, who evaded his gaze again. “Go ahead. Take your time.”
Reigen made sure Dimple had climbed down the first flight of steps before closing the door behind him, and made his way to sit in the armchair opposite Serizawa. “Alright, I’m all ears. Tell me what you needed to say.”
Serizawa wasn’t sure of what he wanted to say to Reigen anymore, even though he felt it welling in his chest and knotting in his throat. He fumbled with his fingers and smiled weakly. “Um, you and Dimple seem pretty close.”
The self-proclaimed psychic blinked. “Oh. Does it look like that?” Serizawa nodded and Reigen laughed, which sounded a bit forced and Serizawa was sure not to miss the slightest hint of a blush spreading on his face. “Close enough to know he’s a damn pain in the ass, sure.”
Serizawa had almost laughed at his reply if it hadn’t stung him simultaneously. In more ways than one, apparently.
“Anything else you’d like to tell me? You said you wanted to give me something,” Reigen continued.
“Oh, that,” Serizawa said, digging his hands into his pockets. He breathed, and shook his head. “Please forget it, Reigen-san.”
Reigen raised his brows. “Are you sure you don’t want to give it to me later?”
Serizawa squeezed the piece of paper in his pocket. “I’m sure.”
“Okay. Well, alright.” Both men remained quiet in their seats for a while. The silence begged for something more. Serizawa wasn’t sure what kept Reigen rooted to his armchair, despite having received an urgent call from a client. Neither looked anywhere else except for the expanse of tiled floor around them.
Finally, Reigen stood up and stretched. “Let’s go then. We’ve got a job to do.” Serizawa followed and stood up, but Reigen didn’t head for the door immediately. “You know you can always tell me anything, right?” Reigen asked, voice soft and reassuring. It made Serizawa’s heart hurt.
“Of course, Reigen-san,” he replied. They both exchanged smiles. Serizawa suddenly became aware of the warmth of the setting sun which drenched the room in an orange glow.
As he trailed behind Reigen towards the door, he eyed the trash can beside it and, on passing it, chucked the crumpled paper into the vessel. Words have faltered him that day, but in time perhaps he would tell Reigen how he felt. And perhaps, if he waited long enough, he would allow those feelings to be buried with the passage of time.