"If Shizu-chan wanted me dead, then my life is only a breath away,"
Izaya smiled at me, in the alluring way I'd always loved, always adored yet always loathed. The cigarette placed in between my parched lips was nearing its' end as I inhaled more smoke to fill up my lungs.
This man, this man I've always, always hated was sitting right next to me, one hand holding mine as his head leant on my shoulder. He was smiling contentedly, not even scared of the possibility that I might crush his bones in just split seconds, might send him flying across the room in the blink of an eye.
"Always, always a breath away," Izaya sighed again before turning back to look at him in the eye, "Thrilling, isn't it?"
I would grunt, but not now. Not when my cigarette finished and my mouth craving another form of nicotine coming from those luscious pink lips. He mewled in delight, kissing back with as much fervor before I pulled away to snarl at him;
"You know I still want you dead,"
He grinned, tongue sneaking out to lick my lips in a teasing way before replying, "Kiss and tell, Shizu-chan. Kiss and tell,"
I kissed him again, chaste before melding our lips into one. The sounds that came out from his mouth was surprisingly beautiful; nipped and bit but he never cared, only letting out loose moans that seemed to leave effects on me.
I pulled away, lips only centimetres apart while I spoke in a breathy whisper, "Hate you so much, louse,"
"Just like Hell nee?" Izaya replied before pulling me to get up with him and away from the comfort of the couch. "I feel so good but you hate me so good," His tongue found my ears and I felt shivers running down my spine.
"Don't flatter yourself,"
"Not if you're flattering me already," His eyes flickered in something akin to lust and evil before finding my lips on his sinful ones, again. Only this time, he was the one who pulled away, a string of saliva connecting our lips.
"Kill me,"
My gaze were fixed on his as his fixed on mine. Arms sneaking round my neck and I found my hands on his hip. Foreheads pressed against each other, I seeked for the truth within those crimson orbs.
Lust, evil, wickedness; masks he'd wear. I dislike it. Very, very dislike it. The master of disguise as he'd silently call himself but never one to portray sincere emotions. Feigning hurt, comfort, love; what for? To impress? To shield?
I don't know. Honestly I really don't. Did the man really abhorred me like how I did? Or was it some facade to put up his mixed feelings, and locking it forever? Hate is a strong feeling, one would say, just like love.
So we translated it into lust, into falling towards a deeper and darker hole where everything was perfect. Just like Hell, just like Izaya. I fell deeper into this hell hole and I found myself scrambling out to find a way, escape.
But all I could see was this face.
This face I passionately hated the most.
But was also the face whom I became passionately to love.
His face.
His shitty voice.
His disturbing grin.
His fucking sexy body.
His distorted, twisted mind.
And even his blackened, dying heart.
In truth I found sincere, and in his orbs I found uncertainties. Deep, but I never minded. He might waver but never long for he is,
"One breath?"
The death of me.