A/N:
Here is a small apology to my readers of KEEP OUT! I am sorry I haven't updated even though I said I would. ;A;
But I got stuck worrying about how to pay school fees, and now I don't have an effin job!
Thank god Canada's economy isn't as bad as the US, but why must people be too picky on hiring and too lazy to train people? Dx
Anyways to all you Izaido/Mikaya fans out there reading my other story; here is a very short one-shot for you. I left the ending the way it is to let your imagination take care of the rest.
I promise I will update my other stories as soon as I can.
POISON }}
Reddish brown eyes, slender hips, and porcelain like skin. All of these traits fit the man who sat before me. His long thin legs crossed over one another; a smirk plastered on his narrow face. Those eyes that could have belonged to the devil himself, peering into my soul. I wouldn't say I was comfortable with the current situation, but I certainly did not hate it. It wasn't every day that a man of such unique stature would request an audience with someone like me.
His gestures were loud and big; while mine remained small and confined. He laughed; I nodded. When he spoke, I would listen. His words were velvety smooth, and rolled off the tip of his tongue; much like freshly squeezed wine; the nectar of the gods. How fitting it was; for he himself, thought he was a god.
"Mikado-kun. Why aren't you talking? I'll be lonely if you remain so silent." His eyes taunted me, as if to mock the reason for my presence here.
"Gomen Orihara-san. I'm just not sure what to say." I replied, rubbing the back of my head in a nervous state.
Orihara-san wasn't really what you would call normal. Nor was he particularly kind and gentle. He was more sadistic and twisted. His mannerisms and sense of style screamed his flamboyant nature, which only made you question his sexuality. To put it simply; Orihara-san was...interesting.
"Orihara-san, w-why did you ask me to come here?"
"Hmmm? Why for the company of course." A small smile spread across is lips touching the corners of his cheeks. "Why? Did you think it for another reason?"
I blushed, the apples of my cheeks tinged slightly pink with embarrassment. Playing with the fingers on my hands, I looked down at them. Why must the human anatomy be so interesting in awkward moments?
'He's killing my emotions.'
That man was the definition of killer. He could kill something mercilessly and not have a care in the world; emotions, thoughts, or whatever it may be.
"Mikado-kun, how about a game?" said man gestured towards a chess board that sat upon the coffee table in front of us.
I looked at him sternly. "Stop playing Orihara-san."
"But I want to play."
'Well I'm not playing.'
I heard him let out a sigh. Was his displeased that I didn't go along with his little game? Or was it another trick to make a mockery out of me?
"So Mikado-kun, if you don't want to play this game…" He leaned over the table. His face inches from my own. "Would you rather play a more…adult…game?"
His eyes sucked me dry;
I am frozen.
