Hey, everyone!

Since 'A Criminal's Mind' is going to take a while to finish anyways, I decided to start a more fluffy and romance-based fic (Though it doesn't quite begin that way) that's going to be shorter, so please enjoy and tell me what you think! Also, please tell me if you want me to continue this as IZUO or SHIZAYA. :D Can't decide between the two. Read the closing for details.

This is a slight AU with bending of relationships and age. To be M later, as well.

Also, Izaya speaks in Italics.

A woman's hand struck across his face. Orihara Izaya, a high school student of sixteen, didn't flinch, but took this repeatedly as his mother continued to do so over and over again. Her long, hard nails made dragging scratches along his pale face, diagonal lines of red much more bright then the crimson cheeks that darkened more and more with the number of slaps he received. It was apparent that he was biting his lower lip form doing anything against her. It was a pain to just even watch him resisting. "Izaya, I thought you'd be the most intelligent of all my children since you're the oldest, but bringing in this trashy filth is against our morals! You call yourself an Orihara? You little fucking prick, think about what your father has left you with!" The willingness of taken in the abuse was ceased when Izaya grabbed his mother's wrists and pressed her against the wall. She gasped, as Izaya was never one to snap at anyone. His once soulless crimson eyes were now filled with anger, hatred, anything that could destroy a parent's reason to live, and he yelled straight into her face, blood and spit flying carelessly.

"Don't you dare call him a trashy filth when you don't even give a shit about your own children, you dirty fucking whore!" The 'trashy filth' remained at his spot. The 'filth' was a child of brown hair and golden eyes, with a cast over his right arm and an eye patch over opposite eye. He was shaking a bit, as if he were about to cry. Orihara Izaya had picked up this child from the streets. For months, he'd been secretly helping this boy with food, water, emotional support, and some books to help him with his lack of education, but with his recent injuries, Izaya couldn't help but to find him an appropriate place to stay-His own home. His mother, a mistress to several men, always relieved herself of the stress she got from lack of sleep by violently abusing her oldest child, her only son. She could never think of an alternative to treat herself. However, abuse was something this child from the street also knew of; it was why he fled to the streets in the first place. But here stood Izaya, who he had begun to look up to, standing up to his remaining parent. "Do whatever the fuck you want with me, call me whatever you fucking want to, but don't you dare-EVER FUCKING DARE- mess with that kid, bitch!" Izaya's mother never expected this from her son. He's the top of his class, one of the best athletes around, was so patient that he could stay up all night just to see the sun rise in the morning, and this child changed it all. Her lips quivered, and she turned to face away from her son, until she'd notice that street scum wasn't the only child who'd watched her earlier: Her little twin daughters. They'd witnessed everything from the beginning to end. Her eyes were wide, watching the older of the twins pull the younger away. Both were crying silently.

"M-Mairu… Kururi…" She was let go of. Izaya wheeled away to storm up to his room since he had the chance, and immediately walked straight past his mother with a duffel bag when he slammed the door shut. The woman watched, mouth hanging open. "I-Izaya? Where the hell do you think you're going?" She was returned a glare, and her son, who just so happened to look so similar to herself, gave her something that would make her regret everything she'd done.

"Anywhere but here with you, you sorry excuse for a mother. You can't even handle Mairu and Kururi, so what the hell do you think you can do with me? I'm tired of all the shit I get from you." Izaya glanced back at the handicapped boy, nodding his head over to the door. "Come on, Shizuo. We're taking a bus in a few minutes." The child slowly ran after the older boy, and with one last look over his shoulder to that woman who had called him trash, he found that she was crying, just like her daughters had been. The boy called Shizuo finally left the enormous estate after Izaya, and together, they walked. Izaya never turned around once to say farewell to anyone, even to his little beloved, biological sisters. The only he cared for now was this boy, who he would assume parental care of. Nothing else mattered to him. Shizuo looked up worriedly to the high school student, pulling Izaya's middle and index finger into his own tiny hand. Izaya only peered down at the boy, revealing that he was taking his own leaving a little harshly as well. He stopped when he saw Shizuo's face, crouching down to hug the boy tightly. "I'm sorry you had to see that, Shizuo. I'm so sorry… I didn't think she'd be home today." Shizuo felt tears rolling down his shoulder. He couldn't tell whether they were his own or Izaya's, but he only did know one thing: At Izaya's tight hold of him, he felt his good arm barely move up to embrace him back. Izaya was fifteen. Shizuo was only seven. Shizuo didn't realize why he felt both nervous and warm that day, his chest had felt tight and uneasy, something he'd never forget… He was only seven, after all. They never took that bus Izaya said they'd take. Instead, they walked. Walked, and walked, and walked until Izaya paused before a tall, modernized complex. "We'll be staying here." It looked like an office building. Shizuo never learned the true reason of why they walked the entire way to this place he could now call home. Many years later, Izaya gave him a quite vague answer: 'Walking together is better.'

Alright, pick what you want to see, viewer! This was a short intro to what you choose. Comment or PM me on what you'd like. {:

ShizuIza OR IzaShizu?

Longer School Arc OR Longer Child Arc?

Good End OR Bad End?

-Suggestions?

Your answers and suggestions will let me know what to do next.