DRRR!
*Published May 4th~Izaya-san's birthday! \(^q^)/ (-_-;;)
BEWARE of extreme Izaya OOCness (since he is displayed as having a multiable personality here)
BL~I know we all love the bacon-lettuce *cough cough*
And SPOILERS, for it is based-partly-off the light novel. So if you've only watched the anime, you might not recongnize some of the characters...other than a few of my very unoriginal OCs :3
NOW, forget everything you know and plundge into this inexplicable world of dreams and realities...
.
.
デュラララ!
As he stepped out from the Lotteria restaurant, a wave of crisp, winter air hit him, and instantly chilled him to the bone. He shuddered in his thin bartender suit, quietly cursing the sudden cold temperature. Sighing, his attention was momentarily occupied by his visible, steam of breath that floated nonchalantly into the darkened night sky. Sounds of footsteps snapped him out of his daze, as he shifted his gaze to see his sempai walk beside him.
"Achoo!" Tom sneezed, and then sipped the warm coffee in his hands, "Looks like winter came early this year."
It was true. Although it was only mid-October, the temperature had already dropped to below zero.
"Yeah. It sure isn't brightening my mood. The only good thing this cold weather could do is make that damn louse hibernate for a while." Shizuo scoffed, stuffing his hands in his pockets in an attempt to keep warm.
Tom tilted his head, pondering on Shizuo's comment.
"Now that you mention it, I haven't even caught a glimpse of the guy for the past few weeks."
"You say it as if it were a bad thing. Maybe that flea finally decided to listen to my threats and stopped trespassing in Ikebukuro." The blond bodyguard snorted, and started down the vacant city street.
"…But he must be pretty busy if he's even stopped provoking you. That makes me worried, who knows what he's up to?" Tom muttered thoughtfully as he hurried to keep up with Shizuo.
"As long as he's leaving me alone, the flea could go die in a hole for all I care. Hell, the next time I see him I'm going to do just that!" Veins were already starting to protrude from his face as he thought more and more about the raven-haired informant.
Noticing the signs that foretold an upcoming apocalypse, Tom quickly changed the topic and gestured to the small river beside them.
"Hey, what's that? A boat?"
Shizuo pulled himself away from his violent thoughts and turned to see a rusty, smashed up piece of metal that looked like to have once been a vehicle of some sort, wedged onto the partially frozen water.
"Don' know, never seen it before."
As they strode closer, he noticed a dark bundle lying motionless inside. Usually, he would have passed it thinking it was someone else's trash, but something was compelling him to go investigate.
'This scent…'
"I think there's something inside." Before Tom could reply, Shizuo had hopped over the railing, and on to the riverbank.
"Oi! Careful Shizuo!" Tom called after him, although he was more worried for whatever that bundle was than for Shizuo.
Edging closer to the anonymous object, he noticed a barely visible up and down movement; like it was breathing. The familiar smell was becoming almost unbearable as Shizuo reached out to grab the dark covering.
In the sky, the clouds slowly drifted apart, allowing a fountain of silver to glaze over the ground bellow.
With the light, Shizuo suddenly noticed a vivid pool of red underneath him, spreading rapidly from the dark bundle. His hand hesitated a moment, hovering uncertainly, before he recollected himself. In a swift motion, he flung the fabric from whatever it had been concealing.
Pale skin glowed ghostly, bathed in the moon's serene light. A shock of black hair glistened with a red hue as the dark liquid caressed the face's soft curves. The uncharacteristic white flannel shirt, too, was drenched in the beautiful paint-like substance.
Silence fell upon the two men as they were mesmerized by the revealed figure. A gentle breeze swept by, and the dark fabric covering fluttered aimlessly in Shizuo's frozen hands. The sound of Tom's coffee cup hitting the ground echoed through the empty street.
.
.
デュラララ!
[Um…is he going to be ok?]
Celty gestured to the rigid figure of Shizuo, hunched over in his chair holding a cup of now cold tea, staring in to space with a glazed look in his eyes. He's been like that for over three hours now.
Tom simply shook his head.
Celty motioned a sigh at the lost cause.
They'd been having a peaceful evening when Tom and Shizuo had shown up inexplicably outside their door, breathless. The tall body-guard was cradling the lifeless informant, covered head to toe in blood, and looking very much like an overly dramatic murder scene.
Normally, they wouldn't have gotten so worked up if the guy had only been stabbed or was unconscious…in fact they wouldn't even have cared. But the fountain of crimson that had been drizzling on to the floor, and that unbearably pained expression on the informant's face had told otherwise—not to mention the fact that it had been Shizuo, of all people, who had brought him there in the first place.
Unable to contain her curiosity any longer, Celty typed into her PDA.
[So…can you tell me what happened? Was it another fight?]
Tom shook his head again. "No, it wasn't a fight. We were just passing by the river when we found him like that, unconscious. I was going to call an ambulance, but...Shizuo suddenly picked the guy up off the ground. At first, I was sure he was going to bash Izaya's head open right then and there…"
Celty waited for him to continue.
"…yet he didn't, and we ended up carrying him here instead."
If Celty had eyes, they would be the size of saucers right now. She nodded slowly, trying to take in the mind-boggling situation.
Tom chuckled softly.
"After all that time I've known Shizuo, I've never seen that look in his eyes in the moment we found Izaya." He gazed over to the blond, who still seemed to be completely oblivious to his surroundings.
Celty tilted her invisible head in question.
[What do you mean?]
The door to the operating room opened before Celty could get an answer, and a rather tired looking Shinra stepped out.
"So, how is he?" Tom asked wearily.
"I've managed to stabilize him for now. Someone's given him a large dose of sedatives so he probably won't wake up for a few days…or weeks actually."
[Any idea what might have happened to him?] Celty flashed him her PDA.
"Well—besides the fact that no ordinary person should have been able to survive that much blood loss—it looks like he's been injected this strange chemical. I can't seem to get it out of his system. It isn't doing any harm, so I guess it should be safe for now, but…"
Shinra looked perturbed.
"But?" Tom insisted him to continue.
"Those wounds, I'm not completely sure—yet they appear to have been self-inflicted."
They stared blankly back at him.
"…So, he's suicidal?"
"Er, ha ha…not quite, it's more like his body was rejecting whatever was injected."
A silence fell heavily upon them as they considered this. Finally, Celty typed in her PDA.
[It's getting late. You guys should head home for now.]
Tom nodded, and motioned to leave, but Shizuo remained still. It seems like the trauma still hadn't worn off.
"Shizuo, are you ok? You seem a bit out of it." Shinra finally noticed, then tapped his chin in consideration.
"Come to think of it, why did you bother to carry Izaya all the way here anyway? Why didn't you just call an ambulance? No…wait; this is Shizuo I'm talking too. So, I should be asking you why didn't you kill him. I thought you hated him. Or did you?"
Suddenly Shinra's eyes brightened with realization, and his fist hit his palm in a gesture like he'd figured out something amazing.
"Could it be that all the hatred you held against Izaya was actually a concealed manner of tsundere!—"
Crack!
The cup Shizuo had been holding seemed to have completely disappeared. As he unclenched his fist, the powdery remains of what used to have been a beautiful, ceramic cup fluttered to the floor.
Shinra froze, and felt cold sweat run down his back. He let out a nervous laugh in an attempt to rephrase himself.
"Aha ha…I apologize. What am I talking about! Of course you hate Izaya! There's no way you could ever care about that jackass!"
Shizuo silently lifted himself up from the chair, and walked out the door.
Tom and Celty glared daggers at Shinra, who scratched his head in embarrassment.
"Sorry, shutting up now."
Tom sighed in defeat.
"Well, for now, some alone time might do him some good."
.
.
デュラララ!
Shizuo could not think. Not that he was a protozoan like the flea said and actually couldn't think. He just didn't want to. Whenever he did think, his thoughts would somehow wonder to an undesired topic. So he will just have to stop thinking.
But his plan seemed to fail him as another memory of today's events strayed crossed his mind.
He groaned, and rolled on to his back. As soon as the debt collector had gotten home, he'd flung himself straight onto his small, single bed. He was wearing a rather undersized black hoodie and grey sweatpants borrowed from Shinra's. His bartender uniform had been completely stained with wet blood. Even after a long shower and scrubbing himself as clean as he possibly could, he could still smell a trace of the iron stench.
Feeling uncomfortably irked, he felt the usual urge to go throw something large and painful at flea. Injured or not, it was still his fault after all, making things so confusing like this.
Back at the river.
He could still feel the way his fist gripped onto the unfamiliar fabric of the shirt collar, and forcefully lifted the flea from ground. He could remember how his anger pulsed furiously through his veins, willing him to destroy the thing before him. Yet all of a sudden…
'pang'
He realized how limp the body he held was, that blotches of red were trailing down his arms, dripping on to the ground. In that moment, the flea looked so…innocent.
Shizuo scratched his head feverishly, shocked and panicked in how he'd actually fit the word 'flea', and 'innocent' into one thought. Uhng...
Yet he still couldn't get the pictures out of his head; that pained face, how cold the informant's skin felt, and the silver hand-cuffs that were cutting into those frail wrists. The flea was so light in his arms—too thin. It made him feel uncomfortable; it made him feel, so, so…
…angry.
Without realizing it, his fist had landed forcefully onto the innocent, wooden table beside the bed, efficiently smashing it in two.
Damn, there goes the tenth desk this month…but he was still too stressed to try and clean it up.
Why? Why did he save that evil bastard? When he had held the lifeless Izaya before him, he felt an overwhelming feeling of anxiety he'd never felt before; he didn't know what to do. So his body went auto-pilot on him like usual, but this time it was to save something, not hurt it.
This thought calmed him slightly, and he allowed his fist to unclench. Suddenly, Shinra's words popped into his head.
'Could it be that all the hatred you held against Izaya was actually a concealed manner of tsundere!—'
The fist came down on the crushed table again, this time completely flattening it and creating a miniature crater on the floor.
Thank god he lived on the ground floor, or else the ceiling would've collapsed on some unfortunate soul living underneath him.
.
.
デュラララ!
Somewhere in a far off country…
"Reporting," in the shadow, a young man dressed in a long black, gold-trimmed coat bowed respectfully. His shoulder-length, dark-garnet colored hair swished shyly over his face. He wasn't short or small, but his delicate features and apathetic aura made him appear frailer than he actually was.
The room was exquisitely decorated; priceless pieces of artwork adorned the gold fringed walls, the glassy, polished floor was littered with dust-free furniture. Although crystal chandeliers hung in the ceiling high above them, the tall man sitting casually in the elaborately carved chair seemed to prefer the sunlight streaming through the grandiose windows behind him.
"Ah," a smooth, tenor voice came from the seated man.
"So you've returned. That was far quicker than I'd expected. Congrats." The man mused himself by spinning an intricate bottle of dark liquid upon a mahogany chessboard, before he continued.
"Did you have any troubles with the activation?"
"None." The other spoke softly, "He seems to be stabilizing faster than expected."
"Then, I guess we can go ahead with the plan? He's had far too much freedom now for his own good." His arms stretched up into the air with ecstasy, "Ah, I just can't wait to see him again. It's been so long, I wonder how much he's changed. Will he be happy to see me? I'm so excited. 'Cause I just love, love, love him so much…" The man twirled smoothly around his chair with delight and leaned towards the transparent panes of the window with a wicked smile.
"Italia's mafia is still going about an inner struggle, so I'll take this chance to wreck as much havoc as I can. But I wonder how the yakuza are going to react to our sudden intrusion?"
"It seems the Awakuzu-kai had been having with problems with Yadogiri-san lately." The smaller voice replied, still rooted to the same spot.
"Hmm," His eyes narrowed dangerously with distaste, but the smile on his face did not diminish. In fact it seemed to grow with amusement as he continued. "He's been stepping out of his boundaries lately, hasn't he? Shall I punish him? Or should I just leave him be? What do you think?"
"He is a substantial hindrance."
"True. Speaking of hindrances, any new information on Ikebukuro's 'fighting doll' Iza-pon seems to hate so much?"
"Everything appears to be normal."
"Ha ha, he's interesting. I wonder if all the rumors about his enormous strength are actually true."
"Seeing how he was on par with Orihara-kun is formidable." The red-head commented with a hint of admiration.
"Well, not anymore…since the restraints have been lifted." The man chucked carelessly with a teasing tone.
Silence filled the room as the tall man continued to stare out the window. A thought suddenly crossed his mind. He started apprehensively in a light-hearted voice.
"I hear Drakon's daughter has recently moved there too, right?"
There was a slight hesitation.
"…Yes."
As he turned away from the illuminating window, his flaxen, platinum-blond hair swished gracefully around his handsome features, and a glint of childish excitement danced across his ice-blue eyes.
"I see. I'll look forward to meeting with her again as well. I wonder if she still remembers us."
.
.
デュラララ!
I know; the timeline is abit messed up.
And it's going to be even more so~ But just try to stay with me! ;3
ONWARDS!==============\
=====================/