Say why do you think humans paint people who don't exist?
Is it to satisfy curiosity? Or is it because we wish they were real? What compels humans to pursue an aimless dream? Because it can never come true no matter what they wish?
These were some questions a certain informant asked himself sometimes as he watched artists paint empty walls on the streets or in sketchbooks in the park. They were almost like another species always submerged in their own fabricated world.
He didn't find much interest in artists, especially since they never seemed concerned about the world around them. Always with their ears plugged away from the world.
It was no different as he watched an artist painting a wall nearby his apartment. They were sitting atop a ladder to reach higher ground of the wall painting something. It looked to be a mural of some sort however it was still barely done. From afar he could make out the etchings of various flowers and maybe a person?
The artist he noticed looked to be around the same age as him if maybe a little younger considering his or her choice of hair colours. It was either a young slender man or a young woman. Dressed in a loose fitting white blouse and cargo pants splattered with different paints. It was difficult to guess their gender. Their hair colour was also hidden away by the hat they wore obscuring his view of them.
"Is that supposed to be an angel?" Izaya asked.
The artist stopped their hand and looked down to meet his eyes. He noticed that he or she wore glasses. Their eyes a pale lavender narrowed at his appearance. Their voice was muffled by the surgical mask they wore, probably to avoid inhaling so many paint fumes. "You'll see him at night." The artist answered from above.
? Why at night? Was this person intending to work and finish today?
"I'd love to meet him." Izaya said half heartedly not really interested.
"You will soon," The artist frowned. "But why did you come out now? The sun hasn't come down yet." The girl placed her paint brush in the water next to her and began going down the ladder.
She stepped down the ladder walking towards Izaya at a fast pace. "Is there something wrong? It's not safe for you to be out with so many people."
She lifted his arm, checking for something. She or he then turned him around and the next thing he knew the artist had given him a body check.
"You must have me mistaken for someone else." Izaya lightly commented ready to attack the artist for getting a little too close to his personal space.
"What are you talking about? Of course I know who you are. We need to get you back before someone sees you." The artist said almost confused at his words. His hand was grabbed, but then the artist paused squeezing his hand one more time as if to double check for something.
After a moment, the artist pushed him away in what he presumed was shock. "You're… not one of them."
Izaya raised an eyebrow. What exactly did he mean not one of them?
The artist shook his or her head turning away from him. "No, it's nothing. It's best if you don't know."
"You must love painting to ignore the rest of the world to paint one that doesn't exist." It was interesting to see what kind of reaction he'd get from these solitary type of humans if he insulted them in a vague way.
He couldn't read the artist's expression because their whole profile was covered by their glasses, hat and that surgical mask, but he felt that he must've hit a nerve. There was no way of telling their expression.
But he still managed to hear their muffled voice. "It's not a matter of love or hate."
The artist looked up at Izaya meeting his reddish brown eyes with a clear and honest gaze that seemed a little sad and saying in calm but muted voice.
"It's just easier to paint than to ignore their existence."
The artist went back to work afterwards refusing to talk to him anymore than that, even going so far as to plug earphones into their ears leaving Izaya amused at how serious their answer was.
That was the first and last time Izaya encountered that artist, but afterwards the mural was finished covering the entire cement wall. But whenever he passed that particular mural near his apartment, he was always left in unease.
He'd stare at the man in the mural, the man had pure white hair and his eyes closed holding a bouquet of flowers. The man's face was stoic, void of emotion. The man wore a simple white button up and wornout jeans. There was a white bird and a black crow that were painted above the man's head as if protecting him.
It was a beautiful mural done for a shop nearby on the concrete walls. There were numerous flowers around the male sitting on what looked to be a porch in the mural. He was the only human in a sea of flowers.
The man in the mural seemed quite tall and delicate for a man emitting almost an angelic air about him. In face at a closer look the flowers almost looked to be arranged to look like wings behind the man.
He looked too pure and innocent to last in a city full of gang wars.
"You wouldn't last a day in this city." Izaya murmured out loud to the mural, "But, you'd make an interesting pawn."
It would be interesting to what type of chaos could be created through purity and innocence. It would be exciting to see how this man would be tainted in this city full of humans.
"I see you've noticed the mural, Izaya." Shinra appeared before Izaya in his usual attire of lab coat and briefcase.
In response, Izaya smirked sticking his hands in his pockets. "Shinra, what brings you here?"
"The usual. Clients who can't call the hospital." Shinra answered while looking up at the mural before them. "You know it seems like these murals are becoming well known here."
"Artists huh. I have no interest in artists." Izaya said. In truth, Izaya just didn't understand them. They were a totally different type of creature always submerged in their own worlds created by their own conscious. They weren't very interesting considering they tended to be solitary creatures. They tended to forget humans existed outside their mind.
The artist he met before was exactly as he expected except for their last words to him.
It's just easier to paint than to ignore their existence.
What could that mean exactly, Izaya tended to wonder.
"But I've heard rumours about this artist. Apparently, art dealers will pay millions to get a hand on this particular artist's work. However, that's more difficult than said." Shinra continued.
"Oh? What makes their work so special?"
"The artist rarely paints anything other than murals or public art. It seems that their work tends to have the air of being haunted by ghosts." Shinra said in a whisper. "Or stuff tends to go missing or get added without the artist's doing to the paintings."
That was quite interesting. An artist who could bring ghosts to life through paint. Oh the possibilities if that power was used for something more illegal. Izaya smirked. "That's quite a feat. Are you sure the artist isn't some kind of magician?"
"Well it's just an urban legend, so I don't know. You can tell it's their work because of the signature." Shinra explained "Look right there."
Shinra pointed to the wings drawn in the bottom right corner. "That's their signature."
Not much could be interpreted by this type of signature except that this artist liked to be unique.
Izaya looked closer at the mural staring at the fine details of the male's face. Was there really such a man so delicate in Ikebukuro with those features? It hardly seemed plausible. But if the painter could paint him so lifelike, it made the information broker wonder who was this man to the artist?
He sighed. This was why he didn't like artists. Their work never held concrete answers. The only person who could explain the paintings in full detail were the artist themselves.
"A pair of wings huh…" Izaya murmured quietly with a smirk at the white haired man in the mural. "I wonder who you'll haunt."
Shinra shrugged not as interested however if he recalled correctly, the person who had told him those rumours was his dad so it may actually be true.
"I need to get going. Celty is waiting for me back home." Shinra said waving goodbye to the informant leaving him to walk back to his apartment.
Later that night, Izaya realized he could see that mural from his apartment window. It was hard to miss considering in the moonlight it seemed to faintly glow. The white haired male seemed to be smiling in the mural with his eyes closed.
He was pretty sure that smile wasn't there when he last saw it.
Izaya took one last look at the mural before going to bed.
However, he could never guess what would happen a few days later.
When he left the apartment, he came to look at the mural once more. But...
There was something different about the mural.
Izaya frowned staring at the blue roses and baby breaths in the man's hands. There seemed to be a few flowers missing from the bouquet he held. He couldn't recall the artist coming back here to work on the mural. But then how could the number of flowers reduce?
"Are you giving away your flowers?" Izaya asked the mural knowing full well the painting couldn't hear him.
Izaya walked forward heading for Ikebukuro deciding to cast that as just as his imagination.
But as he weaved through the streets, he noticed a little girl holding the same blue roses and baby breaths as the mural.
"Kaa-san, look at the pretty flowers!"
"Oh my they're beautiful. Who gave them to you?"
"A man with pretty white hair."
Izaya's suspicions were getting heavier wondering whether than rumour was true. That the paintings were really haunted.
Out of the corner of his eye he could've sworn he saw a tall man with snow white hair walk past him and then disappear. But that was impossible, it must've been just a rumour.
The next day he looked through his apartment window wondering if he was just seeing things. It didn't look like the male had moved whatsoever, but from such a far distance he couldn't be sure.
The mural wasn't that big but it was made of bright pastel colours that didn't fit the city image. Spray paint was the most common art he'd seen. Especially gang symbols.
Come to think of it. It was strange that none of the gangs had vandalized the mural yet.
That was also a question to consider. What made this mural so special that no one had tried to take it down as of yet?
Sometimes when he stepped outside he'd pass by the mural to get a better look. Today there was the addition of new flowers to the mix.
It looked like a clump of white flowers. A flower he wasn't familiar with. Maybe he'd look it up online when he went home.
Still it made the raven a little curious to prove his theory. Whether the mural was haunted or not. He wondered if the white haired male was a relative of the artist, a lover maybe? Probably someone dear to the artist. Why else would they spend so much time painting a mural so well done in this city? Perhaps this man had already left this world.
It had become a habit to look at the mural of the white haired man from his window before going to bed and every morning, just to make sure that the mural really was just a mural. There were definitely subtle changes in the mural. That he was sure of.
He'd even stooped so low as to ask others about haunted paintings.
Then there was one time where he noticed a bunch of teenagers holding spray paint cans in their hands. There were four of them from what Izaya could tell from afar.
"Hey I dare you to paint a moustache on his neck." One said to his buddies.
"Don't forget to draw a dick on his face." The other snickered.
The teenagers were laughing getting ready to spray paint the mural. Normally Izaya would just watch from a distance to watch what the teens would do next, but somehow...
He had this feeling that he'd be cursed by those birds if he ignored them. He noticed a certain bartender walking by and he got an idea.
He smirked to himself. This was going to be interesting.
First off, he needed to get their attention.
He threw one of his knives aimed at one of their hands. The teen withdrew their hand letting go of the can. The can dropped to the floor with a clatter.
"YO WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT!" The one in the yellow hoodie yelled. He turned his head noticing Izaya standing a few feet away with a smirk.
"You know it's illegal to be vandalizing private property." Izaya teased
"SHUT THE FUCK UP MAN. We'll do what we want." One with sunglasses sneered sticking up the finger at the informant.
"Let's get him!" One of them suggested throwing his spray can in Izaya's direction.
Calculating this, Izaya dodged the spray can slicing a hole in the can midair. The blue paint started spraying all over directly aimed at the bartender.
*PSSSSSHHH*
Before Shizuo Heiwajima could even react more than half of his bartender suit was painted a neon blue. It was a miracle that none of it got on his face. Shizuo paused staring at the vandalism on his suit.
"This was a gift from my little brother." Shizuo murmured. The blond turned his head noticing the teens with the spray cans in their hands.
There was a vein throbbing on the blond's forehead ready to burst. "You bastards. YOU'RE DEAD!"
The group was now trembling in fear hearing rumours of the monster of Ikebukuro. "Shit you fucked up man."
"RUUUUUN!" Yellow screamed throwing another can at Shizuo but missing in his haste. Shizuo wasn't having any of that shit.
"YOU ASSHOLES GET BACK HERE!" Shizuo roared already uprooting another street sign in his rage. And off they ran both the teenagers and Shizuo Heiwajima away from the mural.
Izaya stepping out of the shadows looked at the unharmed mural except for that little mark of blue on the cuff of the mural's sleeve. "Looks like you didn't get off unscathed." Izaya noted. "Well I guess that just adds more colour to you."
He didn't expect a thank you from the mural. But he did wish it would make some kind of response. To no avail though, the man stayed a mural. Izaya waved goodbye to the mural off to play with his little humans more. Unlike murals or paintings, humans at least responded to his words and actions.
Everything was going smoothly for the infer broker until one day he'd made a mistake in his information at night.
"You've got some nerve feeding us false information." One of the yakuza members said holding Izaya down while the others punched and kicked him.
Izaya could only wince in pain as he endured their attacks. One punched his stomach hard enough to make him queasy. They repeatedly did this with both their fists and blades they carried on them.
His face must've been bruised purple and red from their attacks. He wasn't sure how long these guys had been at it already, but their attacks weren't getting any weaker.
In the distance he heard police sirens getting nearer.
"Shit it's the cops, we need to leave now."
"Leave 'im there. Not like anyone's gonna find him."
"Serves you right." One of the gang membered grumbled spitting on the ground before rushing to leave with the others.
The other two let go of him to run off and escape the cops.
Izaya could only slump to the ground wounded and exhausted from their attacks. His breathing was heavy and his vision hazy from the pain, but he couldn't stay here. Not unless he wanted the cops all over him asking questions.
He needed to call Shinra, but his hand didn't move to his will. He couldn't feel anything yet his body burned as if on fire. It was too dark for anyone to notice a person lying here. It was just his luck to be beaten up so late at night when very few people were still awake.
He'd heard that when a human died, his hearing would be the last to go. He wondered if that was true.
He could hear footsteps coming closer to him slow and tentative as if the person didn't know if to approach him or not.
"Is he over here?" A low but gentle voice asked.
In response Izaya could hear a bird chirping in response to the male's question.
The footsteps got close enough that he could now see the man's worn out sneakers. The man went down on his knees brushing Izaya's bangs of out his face. With that, Izaya caught a glimpse of white hair in a pale pretty face.
Eyes closed just like… that mural.
Izaya laughed but coughed right after. "Are you really an angel?"
The white haired man hovered his hand over Izaya's eyes obscuring his view of the man.
"Sleep" The man said. "Here."
The white hair male placed a single flower into his hand even though it hurt like hell.
Izaya almost laughed and wincing in response to that action. "I don't… ugh accept flowers from guys." What was a flower going to do for him in his current state?
He was definitely strange. Izaya thought before he closed his eyes unwillingly.
The man with his eyes still closed merely tilted his head grabbing hold of the informant behind his knees and his back and lifting him up into his arms. He did it so easily even though he looked fragile and thin, but in this guy's arm he could feel the man's strong grip on him.
Izaya could barely keep his eyes open now so tired from this ordeal. Being carried princess style by a man, how unsightly. The man had a cool body temperature and a scent of flowers on himself even in the smog of the city. Yet he carried Izaya as if he were a fragile girl. It was comical, to be carried this way at his age.
Getting beaten up, being given a flower and carried like a princess, today just wasn't his day. Especially meeting this guy.
"You're a strange human." Izaya chuckled before losing all consciousness leaning his head on the man's chest.
Walking into the city of Ikebukuro holding the troublesome man in his arms, the white haired male had to adjust his grip to keep himself from dropping him.
Unbeknownst to the informant, the white haired male murmured absentmindedly and sighed
"That should be my line, Izaya."
I guess this could be a prologue to a new story? It's a little different from my usual stories where I have two OCs. I'm not very sure if this will be considered a romance necessarily, but I wanted to try a different angle this time a more fantasy theme? This time the main OC is male so let's see how this turns out.
Well either way please comment on what you think and review too.
And thanks for reading:)
I may edit the chapter if I feel I need to change anything.
Disclaimer: Don't own durarara, only own my OCs.