Atonement


"Does it hurt?"

The question is barely a whisper, murmured from lips that are mere centimeters apart from his.

It's odd-sounding, coming from the man underneath him. He's so used to hearing the shouts, so used to feeling the thundering pressure of a bull racing towards him, so used to the monotony of those everyday routines, so much… that he misses it. For a second, Izaya blinks and forgets where he is, and his chest constricts with an unnatural intake of breath.

Then the dagger is flicked upwards, grazing the left side of his cheek in one swift movement. A thin trail of blood flows from the cut. Maniac yet smirking brown eyes stare up at him, the challenging glow in them so off, so unfamiliar, that he gasps and pulls back.

"What's wrong, Iza-chan?" The man is up now, mocking him even as he steps backwards, inching away from the murderous intent in his ruby-colored irises.

"Fuck you," he spits out in disdain. Izaya picks up a garbage can, uproots a metal stop sign, and dismembers a vending machine all at the same time—hurling them simultaneously at the blond in front of him.

The man dodges easily, his tall frame graceful as he sidesteps, making his way towards Izaya. The flick-blade, rusty from age and stained with a tint of red, just barely misses him again; his eyes widen in shock at the close proximity of the blade to his heart, feet stumbling back clumsily.

"Ah-hah~ Isn't this so much fun?" The blond-haired man grins – Izaya has never seen him stop grinning – and watches him struggle to maintain calm with smugness.

"I fucking hate you so much, you goddamn asshole–"

"Oh, it's not you who should be saying that, Iza-chan~"

Before he even has a chance to roar a reply or throw another potential vending machine at the person in front of him – the only person that has the ability to make him feel so guilty and yet exhilarated and alive at the same time, the only person that can invoke so many memories of his past with just a smirk or snide comment – the man has already turned and started off the opposite way, his long legs propelling him forward at an impossible speed.

"Well, I really need to go now, so we'll have to continue this sometime later~!"

The casual dismissal stings him more than it should. And even as his enemy escapes from his wrath once more, Izaya finds no will inside of him to chase the man any longer. Exhaustion and silent rage burns through his veins, and he clenches his fist in frustration.

"FUCK!" he screams. Brings his fist slamming against the asphalt sidewalk. The rock instantly caves in from his colossal strength, cracks running down the ashened stone.

"Fuck you, Shizuo! Fuck you to fucking hell!"

He feels his eyes begin to blur at the sight of the broken objects, the broken people, littering the thoughts within his head. The memories push back at him, filling his heart with nostalgia and regret. They were all gone because of him.

He is the true monster now, not Shizuo. Monster in both strength and words now.

"Does it hurt?"

Izaya closes his eyes, pulling his knees to his chest. The only thing left of the night is darkness—and the dull ache pulsating through his body.


Does it hurt more to hate than to be hated?


A/N: Wrote this awhile ago, but never got around to posting it. It's just a small drabble-ish with Shizuo and Izaya's roles switched up. I'll let you guys interpret it as you will x'D

Reviews and critiques are much love~!