A/N: This pairing is astonishingly overused, but then again who doesn't love Shizu-chan or Izaya-kun? First Drrr fic!
Disclaimer: I don't own Drrr! The anime would've continued if I did. L
"I…za…ya…kun!" The blond sang, low, a growl barely woven around the call. He was there, Shizuo knew, through his tinted shades of blue and skyscraping buildings. Had he really thought that he would ever be gone? Ikebukuro was busy, tangled with power struggles and speculation. Ikebukuro and its secrets… He was always there, omnipresent but slippery as a fox. He hated the stupid man for being the eyes and ears of the city, even when he was in Shinjuku. Ikebukuro's soul.
And there were so many stupid people. Shizuo didn't believe in bystanders. If Izaya knew all, he would be responsible for all the hell that happened here. "Hello, Shizu-chan!" The bartender-styled man breathed in, only controlling his temper so the agitator couldn't get the best of him. There were a lot of things to hate about that man. "Nice to see you," The dark-haired informant smiled, that slightly condescending smile of I know more than you'll ever care to learn.
"Glad you think so, because I'm about to kill you!" The blond screamed, an all too familiar grin of manic anger spreading across his face. Shizuo reasoned to himself that he wasn't a sadist, as this was the only man he purposefully wished to see in pain. Out of his peripheral vision, the reflection of a street sign registered somewhere in the thinking part of his brain. His instincts took that observation, wrenching the pole from asphalt and hurling the makeshift javelin at the slim figure in the distance. A lazy step left the target unmarred by the spear, unflinching to the explosion behind him.
"My, my, Shizu-chan. I wish you'd just forgive me! What use is it to dwell on the past?" The words were light, but the subtle thwick of a switchblade sounded. The taller man was pleased to see the arrogant smirk that that bastard wore had slipped, and what it was replaced with, he didn't know - concentration? Fear?
"Don't give me that crap!" And a waste bin went flying, contents spewing over the street. You play with people, play with their minds with your poisonous words. You strike when they're weak, knocking them out from under their feet. You can't twist me, and I can't give in. Try to destroy me, Izaya, and you will find I will not fall. I can't give you the satisfaction, because you can't win everything.
"Poor Kasuka-chan, will he always be disappointed with his oniisan?" Paralyzed,he stood, pungent stench of molding trash permeating the smoky air, suddenly assailed by unwanted thoughts. Thoughts of when he hadn't realized he had let someone in through his barrier, through a mutual understanding of hate. Fragmented memories of bright lights, unimportant lights in the midst of that tiny flash, a cell phone, a gleeful smile, the root of this, the reason why Kasuka didn't - "You're being awfully quiet, Shizu-chan. I thought you liked playing with me." There was interest there, excitement, triumph - Shit. The blonde raised his arm in a desperate defense against the blade.
"Unpredictable as ever, Shizu-chan."
The limb was effortlessly flicked aside, and dimly the blond felt warmth, oh…blood. The fingers not clenched around the knife dug into his chin, drawing him into those obsidian eyes, forward, and there was a snap, was that his jaw? Neck? A darkness began to blot patches in his blurring vision, voids almost as black as the gaze that roamed over him.
Something soft…something was on his lips. Izaya. Sheer willpower forced his eyes open, and the dizzying splashes of light and flesh-tones sent Shizuo collapsing into the rubble below. A kiss? The warmth, the moisture was still there, and the suffocation that crushed him was suddenly his air, his breath. His bane and savior, unable to resist, but the defeat was all his, words that didn't extend even to his own actions and reactions. The sensation was bitterly ephemeral; weight was lifted after a fleeting moment. He found the returning coolness stung his face like nothing before, if his jaw hadn't been dislocated, Shizuo would've cursed in frustration. I chose to stand because you would trip me, but never push me down. I chose to stand because it was closer than falling. I chose…
Footsteps echoed, softer, softer. Don't just leave me here to lose my balance.