Emotions [Dazai x Reader] ✓

16 | Exposure

The following morning I woke up covered by the duvet of my bed, and, because of having no memory of coming to bed during the night, I assumed Dazai had brought me here when he woke up; I looked beside me hoping he'd be there - he could've - but the other side was empty and cold, indicating he had not laid beside me at any point in time.

With ongoing worry involving the issues of yesterday, I forced myself away from the warmth of the fabric, leaping from bed, both feet at once, and leading myself towards the door. Opening it to intensify my concern I still saw no sign of the brunette as I expected to by the kitchen counter, having a morning coffee or tea, or lying by the sofa to watch TV perhaps. His shoes were far gone from the entrance, too; he left.

I looked around for my phone, and when I had made a grab for it the screen turned on, and I became alleviated; just a few minutes prior the present time he had sent a message, reading that he left for the Mafia alone to attend a meeting early that morning - Mori was back, he said. Well, that's a relief.

After having finished breakfast and having had a shower to get changed, I made way towards the Mafia's headquarters, knowing by default the way to getting there so that I was able to concentrate on other thoughts other than the roads in which I had to turn or else follow-through; I reflected on the conversation of the previous night, what our relationship had come to be (what was it really?), his indirect compliment also - flattering to call me beautiful, I admit, but not in this context it isn't. Then my mind also drifted to the "advice" Oda and orders Chuuya had both given me, one saying he wasn't the one and the other wanted me to stay away from him; I can understand that having fondness in someone with suicidal aspirations could harm me too, but, going as far as trying to convince me that I shouldn't crave for the building up of our relationship was not justifiable enough: I know it hurts, but I'm willing to go through that pain if it helps; could it be Oda believed there would be no salvation for Dazai?

'Good morning, Chuuya,' I addressed as I walked into his office, surprised to have him already present and settled at that time of day; he was often elsewhere in the building, I assumed to be in places such as the toilet, an early-morning meeting with the boss or outside perfecting the use of his ability. 'What a delight to see you here so early.' His gaze was intense, the look of someone who wanted to say something but was still deciding on the consequences of it present on his face. 'That wasn't sarcasm...' I clarified, suspecting he had taken my honest surprise as a warning rebuke.

He waved his hand signalling that that wasn't the issue, telling me that I should take a seat - I don't want the talk. Not this early in the morning.

'If it's about Dazai and me, please, leave it for later.' Then I attempted to ask if there were any hostages which would put my ability to use - not that I wanted to, but anything other than the lecture I was to receive - but he simply wasn't letting me go.

'What are you?'

I squinted my eyes in false confusion, providing a blunt answer that would hopefully drive him impatient and conclude the conversation. 'A human being.' He glared - right, let me not. 'We're... close... I'm not sure; we have a connection I suppose.'

'Allow me to break that "connection" of yours then. I won't beat around the bush.'

'If this is some soap opera I'm living in and you happen to like me too -'

He then slammed his fist to the desk, immediately able to shut me up and fix my posture in alarm; he wasn't playing around right now - I should stop taking his tolerance for granted and listen to whatever he has to say.

'I gave you countless warnings about him, Oda and I from what I gather. You have to understand this isn't subject to my own opinion towards him - if it were I probably wouldn't care; I'm not worried about him, but I'm worried about you.' he started, taking his fist back from the table and rubbing with his other hand the skin which had reddened from the impact. 'He doesn't love you, [Y/N].'