A/N: This is a one-shot I wrote a while ago. It doesn't make much sense to be honest, I'm not expecting anyone to really understand what I managed to spit up on the page.
Think of it as a life, flashing before someone's eyes. It comes in snippets and emotions and raw, simplistic imagery that doesn't always make sense. It was a character study yes but it's also accurate, the feeling of seeing all that you've done and it just hurting
Twyd, if you're reading this, confused as to why on earth I would gift this to you, I guess it's just because our conversation about motivations reminded me of this story and prompted me to touch it up and just post it. Because it's all about those emotions underneath the surface, without them, you can never have a good story.
Regardless, enjoy.
In those moments before he falls, what will run through his head? What is worth his time as those precious few seconds quickly slip away? A question? A word? His life?
Maybe it's something else entirely.
What is he letting go as the railing slips through his fingers? What pushed him over the edge in the first place? A memory? A mistake? His misery?
Maybe it's so much more than that.
Does he look back, does he ask if this is the only way?
Or does he bravely face forward with the knowledge that it was inevitable.
Is he grateful it's over? Does he even blink?
Or does he close his eyes and wish he could have done something different.
In this moment, what happens?
It isn't really one moment. There are a multitude of fragments, all coalescing into this single second. The breath, the decision, the push, the jump, the long way down. Just a second, but how much is able to run through his mind before it all fades to black?
A lot, actually. Too much.
Maybe enough to bring him back over the edge, but not enough to drag his spirit back as well.
So he stands there, raven hair blowing in the wind, fingers outstretched like he's about to take flight. And he hesitates but it's not enough because all he really wants is it to be over. It doesn't matter anymore, none of it does. Just this moment, just this second where he floats above that line that separates the pain of reality from the blessed finality of death.
That is, in the end, the weight that drags him over, allowing him to drift before forcing him to fall.
The man on the roof behind him vanishes for a second, fading into colors, grainy in memory.
A single thought, a bubble, the promise of a happy family. His family, before he came into being. Then anger, resentment, distaste. Unwanted, unloved, not that he really cared.
He didn't cavort with the other children, he manipulated them. Psychopaths drown puppies, kill kittens while they laugh. What kind of game is that? He convinced children to drown children with just a word. Much more interesting, there was never a dull moment.
Anger, sadness, sick satisfaction at a job well done.
His sisters, twins. Newborn girls sporting his bright red eyes. Perfect, better in every way. Genius, kind, normal. Hatred, defeat. They were the good ones, he was forgotten.
Did it burn? Yes. Did he care? Perhaps?
Maybe if he'd thought about it, the reality would have crushed him. But he had his bubble, he had his truths. He worked his fingers into society instead of working them into the mud like his peers, cutting with knives when words wouldn't work. His sisters, forgotten. His family, tossed aside.
They were useless to him, he was determined to make them useless to him.
Fragile, disguised, withdrawn.
Highschool, easy, boring, child's-play. But he was missing something. Friendship? No, he didn't need friends, he just needed humans. he needed their fear, he was their god. Grandeur, control, power. It was fine, he would be okay. Another memory, just another lie.
So many lies, all compounding on each other until they dug his grave and made his coffin.
But he wasn't to be left alone in the darkness.
Him. A meeting, a mistake, a moment, a change he hadn't foreseen. Hatred, fear, intrigue. Longing. A friend, an enemy, a rival, a game. Death. The flash of a knife, the boy's shout of pain. The glare, the yell, the chase. Relief, escape.
Blessed, beautiful freedom from everything that he hated most about himself.
For this one single moment in time, he could have had something good but he'd twisted it into something detestable.
Grief, regret, pain.
So he moved on.
A job, a life. Cunning, twisted, conning, abusive. Obsession. Lies, every one of them lies. Manipulating the system till he rose to the top, but that beast always followed, his filth, his taint. A mistake.
He'd wanted a friend, he had received the protagonist of his own story. A monster. His monster. The only good thing he'd ever found.
His apartment, his life, cold, empty, alone. Tired, always so tired and bored. Escape was impossible, running away from himself was futile. So he just put up another wall and kept moving.
The monster's roars as he was baited into hatred, into fighting. Uncontrolled, inuman, but ever so good. It was all just one big game, one wrong choice after another. Breaking, dissolving, giving up on it all. Down the path of least resistance, hatred, anger, hiding the hole inside that he couldn't fill.
Except it couldn't stay like that, could it. He was too smart to simply fool himself into believing he was okay.
The breakdown, that street. The bitter laughter. Realization, revelation, total self-destruction. The cuts, the blood, the frustration, the face of his enemy. The good in his life that had left him at last. That monstrous face, twisted with disgust and hate as he finally snapped for real. Every word that tripped from his mouth cutting, scathing, true, all true.
Fear, self-loathing, misery.
And now, here. One last chase, one last laugh. Relief, release, the end.
Wind whistles through his fingers as he lets it all go and just tips over the edge. It's over, he doesn't have to think about it anymore. He doesn't have to wonder if the next day will be worse. It's over.
He doesn't have to hate what he's become, he can simply let it all go.
Finality, breaking apart, giving in.
It's over for him, his monster's life can now begin.
He doesn't expect to hear the cry of fear from the monster behind him, the one who always hated him, who in the end made him realize that this outcome was inevitable. It surprises him, but he twists in mid-air and smiles nonetheless. Smiles at the blond-haired man who reaches out to stop him. And even though he's plummeting off the side of the skyscraper, tumbling through the air, the look on his enemy's face starts to heal the broken hole in his heart.
Goodbye Shizu-chan, see you in the next life.
A strong hand tangles in the front of his coat, and suddenly, he's no longer falling.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" the monster roars, the wind almost drowning out his words. The rushing in his ears, it blows away his beast's voice. "What the fuck is this supposed to be Izaya?"
The hand drags him up, he clutches to it. A lifeline, a string, a piece of fate that won't let him go. It so stubborn and yet it makes him open his eyes for the first time in years. Izaya holds on to that light, the fog clearing from his mind. Life, emotions, empathy, feelings. Longing, need. Him, the monster. His future, hanging in the balance. He can see it now, the veil has been lifted, the pain has been dulled.
Beneath his feet, the ground is hard. Solid, focusing his mind. Reality narrows, All he can see is the monster, his enemy, his rival, his friend. His world. Mistakes, compounded on each other, compressed into a single person. All the goodness he never could have because no matter what he did, he could never be good enough to hold it. His legs crumple beneath him, the man holds him up.
The beast shakes him violently, the pain brings him to life. "Why would you do that? Why would you kill yourself Izaya?" His golden eyes are terrified. Anger, desperation, fear, confusion. All of it, crashing around the man who just hangs limply in the monster's hands like a rag doll. "Why do you want to die? Why do you want to leave?"
"You." It's the simplest explanation. It says everything a million words never could. The monster looks stunned. Confusion, disbelief, guilt, blaming himself without knowing what Izaya means. The fingers clamped in the front of his coat loosen as the beast blinks. Starts to withdraw, horrified, before Izaya reaches for him.
"I'm sorry Shizuo," he whispers. A breath, a bandaid. Not a fix, not a solution, just the ghost of what could have been and the desire to find it, even among the ashes. The blond man looks down, twisting expression, fear in his eyes, apologies on his lips. It doesn't suit him, pain never did.
"I just was tired of pretending it didn't hurt."
Desperate confusion swirls from the monster.
But in his eyes is a breath of understanding.
"You don't have to pretend," Shizuo murmurs. A dream, a mirage, untrue or just too good to be true. And then he reaches. And then the distance closes. And then the air stills. And then Izaya's heart pounds in his ears. Fingers, such a comforting touch, an entirely grounding weight. Shizuo's hand is in his hair and it's too familiar, the look on his face is too soft. His words come out gruff, but he means them. "You don't have to hide."
Drawn closer, Izaya lets himself fall into Shizuo's gaze. A chance, a miracle, an answer to a prayer sent up to a god he doesn't believe in. "Then what do I do." It's a breath against Shizuo's face because the man is looming close in his vision. It's a question as a statement because Izaya doesn't have the strength to ask for help.
But he has the strength to listen.
"Say," is the answer. "Stay here."
"Stay with me."
Izaya inhales, except it's Shizuo's breath he's drawing in and the lips pressed against his own are a promise. An oath to exist. A pledge to trust. A vow to change. And he didn't even know it would end like this, but the tear that falls is the first of many and for some reason, it's a relief.
One moment is all it takes.
In that moment, everything can change.
A/N: Yeah, I know, I don't understand it either.
But you got to the end so hey, you earned that cookie. *hands you an internet cookie*
Good job.