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He wasn’t.. Doing well. It was a good thing Mob had called to say she couldn’t make it that day. It felt like all the guilt and lies had started pressing down on him recently and he couldn’t take it. He hated going back to his empty apartment, doing the same thing day in and day out, lying to that poor kid. She was smart, she had probably figured out he was a huge fake by now. But it was the principle of the thing.

He couldn’t pinpoint it but it was just a shitty week. Irritation was crawling all over his skin, making him shiver and itch and he just wanted it to stop . He did his best not to snap at clients but he lost more than one customer because of a too sharp comment. Everything was too loud and too much and there was a mistake with his regular doctor so he was running two weeks late on his testosterone shots. After he almost got into a shouting match with a client, he flipped the sign over to say “out of the office”. He rifled through his desk drawers. He found an unopened box of migraine medication which drew a tired smile from him. It took him some work but soon he had a powder filtered out of the tablets that he poured into a lukewarm cup of tea. He clicked off the overhead lights as he went back to his desk. He drank deeply and sighed and sat back.

He didn’t really notice when the high settled over him, but it was good. He was really out of it but really focused at the same time and it felt like… He couldn’t think of the words to describe it. Words were slippery the same way they were when he was in a shutdown.

He didn’t know how long he sat there in his office chair, rocking back and forth just chilling. Revelling in feeling so far away from his problems and worries and responsibilities. He hummed deep in his throat, loving the vibration in his neck and chest. The office was quiet and only lit by the light beaming in through the window. It was nice.

Until it wasn’t.

“Hey, Mob told me to come help you out since he couldn’t make it t -- Reigen?”

He could barely lift his head to look at the green blob. He stared at Dimple dully, trying to put together words in his head to reply. Dimple had a strange look on his face, which probably meant even if Reigen could string together sentences he wouldn’t be able to brush this off. Fuck his life .

“Leave m’alone.” He muttered and put his head down on his desk, cradled in his arms. Dimple floated closer.

“Hey man, you okay? You look like shit.”

“It’s called having a job.”

“Yeah, no. A job doesn’t do this to you.”

Reigen hunched his shoulders as Dimple got nearer. Fuck, he just wanted to relax and this nasty balloon had to come and ruin his high.

“No jobs today. Go back to Mob.”

“Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

Reigen groaned, loudly. Louder than he normally would if he was thinking about keeping up appearances. He flopped a hand over to his open desk drawer, pulling out the now empty box of migraine pills.

“You have a migraine?”


Probably the wrong answer if he wanted Dimple to leave him alone but fuuck he didn’t want to think. That was the whole point of this.

“Did you… Reigen are you high?”

“Ugh. Not if you keep badgering me. You’re ruining the mood. Go away.”

It was silent for long enough that Reigen dared hope the annoying spirit had left. He shifted with a sigh and got more comfortable. His desk was cool against his cheek. He felt almost like he might doze off when he felt almost a shove inside his chest and then his body stood up. Dimple had possessed him. What the fuck!

“What the fuck!”

“You obviously can’t take care of your body so I guess I’ll have to do it for you.”

Dimple briskly puked up their guts into the small bathroom in the office, then start cleaning up the filter paper and foil packets strewn around from before. He also went through the rest of the drawers and cabinets in the office to see if there was any other medications. There wasn’t. (Reigen had used them all up a while, he was frankly lucky to have found what was in his desk drawer.) He also pulled some band-aids over where Reigen had scratched his arm too hard earlier in the day.

Reigen felt dizzy but couldn’t tell if it was still the high or just getting possessed and walked around. Dimple was moving way too fast, too. When Reigen usually did this he would lay around and then probably eventually fall asleep or it would wear off and he’d go back to work.

Dimple just powered through and got the office back to working order. He pulled on Reigen’s suit jacket and corrected their hair and tie with a quick glance at their reflection in the turned off computer monitor. He downed a quick glass of water and headed out of the office, locking up. What the fuck!

Dimple told him that they were going to eat, go back to Reigen’s apartment, and sleep. And then Dimple and Mob were going to keep an eye on him from now on to make sure he didn’t do this again.

Reigen grumbled and sat back, letting Dimple take the reins. The dinner took the last out of Reigen’s meager wallet, and then Dimple tucked him into bed much the same as when he was recovering from a shutdown. Except this time, Dimple went through his house and threw out all the boxes and bottles of medicine he had. Even the ones Reigen told him he only used for their intended purposes. The spirit didn’t seem in the mood to listen to him. And once Reigen hit the mattress, Dimple didn’t leave. Reigen was so exhausted from all the physical work his body had done along with the mental strain of the day, he passed out pretty quickly.


He didn’t know what Dimple told Mob, but it was noticeable. When he rubbed at his eyes and his head too much, Mob asked if he needed any headache medicine. If he, an adult man who can make his own life decisions, bought any medicine himself it would quietly disappear in the next day or so. Didn’t even matter if it was at the office or at his own home. It scratched at his nerves, having some gas ball and a middle schooler being so much in his business, but somewhere he was maybe a little thankful. Even if it was irritating most of the time.