Emotions [Dazai x Reader] ✓

1 | Alleyway

'No, sorry, I'm a bit busy... you know, watering my goldfish. Have a good one, sir.' I hung up the call and placed my phone on the kitchen counter, while my dominant hand busied itself on bringing the mug of hot chocolate to my lips, slowly downing the beverage until there had been no more left.

Placing the empty mug down on the counter - still holding onto the ceramic handle - I stared at the marks which the drink had incised inside and reflected on the proposal I had just refused. That, like many others I had been receiving (for as long as I could remember), had been a trade of materialistic matters for personal benefit - except that it was not my benefit.

For some time now my ability had been seen to have been a blessing by many: Abundant Hearts. By touching someone I was able to read their emotions, to which I had summarised to F.L.A.S.H.: Fear, love, anger, sadness and happiness. The fingers in either hand served to represent these emotions, each glowing at the presence of their respective emotion - or not if there had been the absence of such.

The benefit of such an ability had not been just being able to read them, but also being able to manipulate these, raising or lowering each emotion at will; many people had begun seeing this to be their escape from loneliness, their resort to strengthening their affection for their loved one or (who knows their intentions) those lunatics who wanted their anger raised to have sufficient courage to face their enemies. Yes, temporary resort, but I had never completely got rid of any emotion that I had been requested to.

"I don't want to feel sad anymore, please fix me." "Can you get rid of the love I feel? It hurts." "People say I should tone down my happiness. Maybe I just shouldn't feel any of it at all. Is that too much to ask?" - These and many others had been requests made to erase emotions, the only problem being that I had not focused my ability to erase these completely - I was unable to do so individually, anyway. "Oh, I feel so much better!" - But for how long? I can't create nor remove emotions, you should understand that. What I did was reset your whatever-emotion-you-wanted-removed; it won't be long until you learn it again.

At first making use of this ability of mine to solve these cases seemed to be a great money maker, even after I had left home, but after the phone started blowing up from numerous calls and several times a day knocks would be heard by the door I stopped, growing tired of the tedious, repeated cycle.

Accept the request. Do what you're told. Receive your pay. Repeat.

In doing so, not only had I suppressed others' emotions but on the way, mine had been too, unconsciously. I began feeling apathetic towards each and every job and realised that what I had been doing hadn't been restoring human wellbeing but rather creating a new cohort of emotionally suppressed beings - no longer humans.

I felt no guilt for it, really, none at all in fact. And that was the problem.

I had not found happiness in this job. I found no love, no fear, no sadness or anger in it either. All I felt was a pit where the heart should be; no strings attached to any client, no falling head over heels or given the motive to hate someone for their request. I was an asset of emotional wellbeing, a toy almost; once the high had passed from the fun obtained from playing with it, I was chucked aside. But what did I expect?

'You need another cup of hot chocolate you do.' I snapped myself back to reality and, wrapping my fingers firmly around the handle, I returned to the fridge, opening the door swiftly to be greeted by the sudden chill of the appliance. I looked down on the spot where the container of the milk should go, sighing as I noticed its absence. 'That's a grocery trip for you.'

Closing the door to the fridge and quickly washing the used mug, I put on a change of clothes to appear more presentable to the public eye, grabbing the first bag as I did so, and putting on the first pair of shoes sitting by the doormat at the entrance; it's just milk, it won't take me five minutes.

Or so I had thought.

Dodgy alleyways had always been the best whenever a quick trip to the convenience store had to be made, but I simply hadn't chosen the best day.

By the usual hidden pathway was the slim figure of a man in a long, black trench coat occupying the alleyway, and two men clenching their bodies in pain, it seemed, before him. I paid no attention to their vulgar exchange, believing it to possibly be mafia business - which I had no intention of getting myself involved in - and chose to back away in an attempt to go by unnoticed. But it failed.

From the slim figure's back shot out a red arm-like spear - comparable to a pair of wings sprouting from divine beings, only much darker and perhaps belonging to that of a sinner - which had quickly found its way impaled into the first man's body, and held the second up high by the throat.

My gaze could not leave the scene, and for a moment mine and the eyes of the man met, his lips mouthing the words "help me" in a dying whisper. That soon made the black-trench-coat figure aware of my presence, and with raging eyes he snapped back at me, slamming the body of his victim onto the brick wall as if it were a ragdoll.

'What do you want?' he snarled, an audible hatred radiated from his voice.

Get some milk and not be involved, sir. 'I was just passing by. I'll keep quiet, I promise,' I whispered back, holding both my hands up in retreat where he could see them.

His hands were quickly shot back down his coat's pockets, and his glaring gaze fixed on me as he approached my paralysed figure. 'One can never be too sure.'

Before whatever ability I had seen coming from him could act, I did. I intended to brush my fingertips against the surface on his cheek - the only exposed skin he bore - but the fear I felt in me proved to be of much more snappy nature than I had been, and the delicate touch had come out to be a clean slap, leaving a temporary red mark where I'd hit him. For a second he said nothing, and when his face returned to look at me - now with much more fused anger present on his facade - I held my arms defensively in front of me, cowering behind them.

'Anger zero per cent!' I let out quickly, releasing the last breath I was holding for a while.

I noticed the red spear had stopped by my side just a few seconds before it'd been sure to have pierced from ear to ear, hip to hip. What a lucky being I was.

I looked up from my arms to meet his eyes, noticing the emptiness in them, the presence of any resentment from just a few seconds ago seizing to have ever existed. I looked at my glowing fingers, noticing the low brightness to each one of them - no, there was sadness above it all. Oh, dear.

He looked down on me furrowing his eyebrows as he did so. He hesitated. 'What did you do?' I forced out a small smile and ducked under the still present red spear to follow along the alleyway. 'Oi! I'm not done -'

'Have a great day, sir!' I forced out, picking up the pace as I rushed out of the alleyway.

Don't be with the Mafia. Don't follow me, please. I just wanted to have a second shot of hot chocolate.