Author's Rambling:

Hi there, ya missed me?

I've got a writer's block with Mixed Dimensions, so I had to write something else to clear my thoughts. It's... different. Yet I hope you'll like it. It can be messy, since it's really late at night at my place and I'm too sleepy to read it once again -_-

Written while listening to: "Near Life Experience" by Riverside

Open your mind. Use your imagination. Enjoy.

Nuria

PS: I wanted to make an empty space between lines but it didn't work. Someone tell me how to do it! :(

Diorama - a three-dimensional miniature or life-size scene
in which figures, stuffed wildlife, or other objects are arranged
in a naturalistic setting against a painted background.

„You piss me off" these were the very first words he has ever said to this man. None too elegant, is it? But Shizuo Heiwajima wasn't the one to play in politeness or use euphemisms. He was just telling the truth.

And the truth was that Izaya Orihara was pissing him off. Even if they were talking for the first time… in fact, the brunette hadn't made it to talk yet, but there was something extremely annoying in his presence itself, the way he was smiling, posing, eyeing the blonde without the slightest sign of respect in his strange eyes. Even while remaining silent, he seemed to laugh at everyone and everything. Being under his vermilion gaze you could get an impression that he knows every one of your thoughts - every little one of your secrets – but at the same time it was impossible to guess his own. And above all wherever he was or whatever he was doing he seemed to absorb one's attention, intrigue, distract, like something shimmering you see out of the corner of your eye.

"What a pity." He'd answered back then "I thought you and me can have some fun together.". Although he hadn't know it yet, Shizuo was soon to learn that Izaya's definition of "fun" is quite different than the commonly used one. And that the "morality" word seemed to be completely deleted from his dictionary. Ever since that time they've been despising each other as much as one human can despise another, and there's been no day they didn't wish the other dead.

When someone asked about the reason behind this hate Shizuo was shrugging and saying that he doesn't need one. It was a lie. He had no other option but to lie – the truth was just too humiliating, too obvious for anyone, who had seen them together more than once. Because this slender brunette with his arrogant smile and eyes wasn't just mere egoist or manipulator. Most of his "victims" didn't know how lucky they'd been to encounter only this site of his nature, while the other one remained hidden.

Izaya Orihara was a drug.

He had an unbelievable ability of buying people, luring them and making them addicted to him, just to destroy them from the inside and watch them burn. He could always say when he had to be passive, show care or friendship, so one would trust him… and then how to turn the card, take the victim under his control and use it until he gets bored. "Try to hate him and you'll hate yourself because you're letting him do it to you" – once captured in this circle there was no chance to get away.

The true reason behind the hate Shizuo felt towards Izaya was his own weakness. He hated the way it was impossible to humiliate the informant, the way each time he ended up humiliating himself. He hated the way Izaya was always the one in control – even forced to be submissive and completely vulnerable, with his both hands pinned against the mattress, eyes hazed over, breath hitched. Even driven mad with desire, when he was tangling his hands in blonde's hair, begging for the release, wriggling under his hands and repeating his name with a voice hoarse from pain and screaming. Hundreds of times his slender fingers were drawing endless random patterns on the bartender's skin and even then - even then they were pulling the strings. And despite of the bruises, hickeys and grazes that were covering the brunette's delicate body many days after it was always Shizuo who felt like a whore. And he hated Izaya just because of that.

Because he wasn't able to kill him.

Because he wouldn't be able to live without him.

"Shizu-chan…" Izaya woke up and stretched like a cat, muffling a yawn "Why aren't you sleeping? Did anything happen?"

Shizuo didn't respond at first, staring at the moonlight that was stippling the brunette's pale skin and lighting silver sparks in his half closed eyes. It was magical, the night's world. Monochromatic, silent and perfect, where everything looked like a dream, an illusion made of whispers and sighs. Beautiful.

He shook his head.

"Come back to bed. I'm cold…" Izaya whined, but his voice cracked and he coughed lightly, automatically lifting his hand to touch the bruises that were still visible on his throat. Shizuo caught himself on tracking his movements and quickly turned his head away, trying to think about something else. He failed.

"Does it hurt?" he found himself asking.

"Not much. But you scared me a little, you know…" the informant gave out the faint laugh. "There was a moment when I thought you seriously want to kill me."

Silence. The blonde shook his head lightly, taking the last drag on his cigarette and throwing it out of the window. He hadn't really wanted to say anything, but he couldn't stop his own voice coming out in a whisper.

"Would that I could."

"I love you too, Shizu-chan." Was Izaya's purred response, as the brunette stretched again and wrapped himself tightly with sheets. "Now close the damn window and come here to warm me up."