Brown eyes get filled with a flash of horror, yet remain in their mendacious calm composition, when the taller dark-haired man reveals the item he'd been holding is no other than a green jacket he knows all too well.
A jacket whose owner was practically inseparable from; whose owner would wear as he ran in the streets of his childhood town, giggling innocently; whose owner would wear as he tried to hide his sadness saying goodbye to his best friend in a train station; whose owner would wear as he first stepped foot into his new city; whose owner would wear as he gave up on every other piece of clothing and ignored his friends' mocking remarks; whose owner would wear on the most important moments of his life to regain hope; whose owner was always seen with it as he smiled, laughed, cried, shouted, relaxed at life's moving pace; now, it was soaked in its owner's blood.
The taller man grins widely as he takes notice of those eyes, of the silence surrounding them. "Ah... What's the matter, Masaomi? Cat got your tongue? What's that, you recognise this?" he viciously snickers, too aware of the responses, the thoughts, the questions running in the younger boy's head.
Clenched fists shaking, teeth gritting and wet blond strands of hair falling on his forehead, he stands still as a lighting strikes.
"Where is he?" he demands, his cool and steady tone of voice only trying to hide the chaos of emotions in his chest.
"I have no idea who you could be possibly talking about," the taller man feigns, his own dark brown eyes glowing in a way that shows he's enjoying this nearly too much for him to handle - but just nearly.
"Don't you fucking play around, bastard!" the younger boy snaps in rage before he rapidly clasps his hands around the man's neck in fury. "Where is he, Orihara? Where the fuck is Mikado? What'd you do to him?" he screams in increasingly louder tones as his grip tightens.
Without even flinching, the taller man simply smirks and nonchalantly points at the back of the alley with his right hand. "Perhaps you'd like to check for yourself?"
Masaomi only glares, his gaze not moving as he only slightly loosens his grip.
"Now, now, isn't it rude to try and choke a poor man in the middle of the city, and during a storm to top it all? I thought you had more morals."
In the next moment, the dark-haired man finds himself hitting the wall behind him, thrown by the force the younger boy didn't seem he would have. Nevertheless, he doesn't feel a hint of dismay or astonishment; still holding the jacket, he just laughs, laughs mockingly at the boy's futile attempts, laughs to his heart's desire, then abruptly stops and shoots a caustic gaze at the boy who's now overwhelmed by wrath.
"Go ahead, what'cha waiting for? I told you where your buddy is. Everything's alright now, just go find him," he remarks with an insincere smile of comfort and reassurance, the deception never leaving his eyes.
Sharply turning around and cursing under his breath, Masaomi walks and turns left to the alleyway in the back, the sound of his quick footsteps echoing along with the rain - until it suddenly stops.
His heart palpitates as he desperately tries to find his breath at the sight that just presented itself to him.
"What... No... No..."
"Not what you had in mind?"
He jumps at the unexpected voice of the same man who led him there, the same man he was interacting with not too long at all ago, the same man he so much despised; and he turns his head to his left to stare at him, too frightened, too appalled for words, shock and horror and fear and panic all evident in his dilated pupils, not even moving, not even speaking, trying to comprehend the situation but just not being able to, and the time passing made obvious by the ticking of his clock. How many ticks, how much time has passed? Hours, years?
"Aww, it's no fun when you're constantly never saying anything, Masaomi!" the dark-haired man blissfully laughs yet again. "I'm sure Mikado finds it boring, he's already cold without his jacket," he points out as he shows the item he was still holding.
Masaomi falls to his knees, his expression unchanged. Mikado...
Mikado, the boy who had been his best friend since they were toddlers living in Saitama. Mikado, the boy whom he begged to come to Ikebukuro just so he could remember what excitement and joy felt like. Mikado, the boy who would always brighten the room with a smile and a chuckle. Mikado, the boy who got flustered so easily, yet showed amazing amounts of composure in even the most difficult situations. Mikado...
Mikado is...
Mikado...
Masaomi closes his eyes as everything around him turns to black, falling down unconscious.
The older man walks to him, ever-so-gently kicking his sides. "Heh... Just as I expected."
Smiling, he bends over and retrieves a dismembered arm - it would fit just perfectly with the torso in the jacket he's been hugging all this time, after all!
Fill for the Durarara! kink meme, prompt: "Anything that sends chills down someone's spine."
I'm not used to writing horror, so this is probably incredibly cliché and lame... But, I tried my best despite it being the early hours of morning when I wrote this, so I hope it was a nice read. ouo