Hello! Here is my first Durarara fanfiction, Blood!

Title: Blood

Rating: M

Genre: Horror, Supernatural, Suspense

Summary: I was jealous of Aoba when Mikado had spent more time with him than me, his own best friend. I took matters into my own hands and the results were far bloodier than I thought they would be. But that's what I liked about it. The blood. It was everywhere, and it pleased me to no end. Aoba had hurt Mikado, and Mikado was only mine. Only I could hurt him. (Yandere-ish!Kida)

Warnings: Mental Instability, Heavy Gore, Extreme Violence, Mental Illness, Yandere Elements, Implied Sexual Fantasies and Desires, Sadism, Possible Masochism

Author Notes: This is told in Masaomi's point of view. He's far from healthy right now, so that's why his train of thought is kind of all over the place.

Enjoy!

I had never seen so much blood before.

It was so lovely. Why had I never noticed it before? Touching it sent a thrilling chill down my spine—it was as if I were holding someone's life in my hands. I giggled as the viscous fluid flowed through my pale fingers, watched as my skin was stained a violent red, and yearned for more. I needed more, I wanted more. I had to have it.

But I already had it. It was everywhere in the room.

It was my former rival's blood.

Kuronuma.

It was everywhere, coating the walls, the floor, the ceiling, my hands, my clothes—and it felt wonderful.

I felt powerful. Much more than I had in a long time. Much more than when I had dozens of people to rule, people who would bend to my very will.

It made me think of what that strange man from long ago had said, right before he had given me my new switchblade.

I can smell the blood on you. You've done some terrible things, boy. Funny thing is, you don't seem the least bit remorseful.

No, I suppose I wasn't. I had apologized to those I had wronged, but that was it. That was the only time I think I actually felt bad. Mainly because I had irritated one of the strongest men in Ikebukuro and couldn't afford to have a vending machine thrown at me at an inconvenient time.

"M-Masaomi?"

Ah, there it was. He had been a bit too quiet for my liking—after all, he had witnessed part of what had happened to his precious little Kuronuma.

I suppressed a shudder, shaking my head. How could Ryugamine stand having a voice like that? It made my skin crawl. His pathetic, whining, mewling voice. Idiotic and useless, just like he was.

It was annoying. I would have to put an end to that. Maybe I would take out his vocal cords. I couldn't kill him, no—I needed him, I wanted him. He was mine. He was all mine to control, and no one else could have him.

I felt myself grin as I put my hands on my hips and cocked my head. "Ryugamine Mikado. Why do you look so sad?" I knelt to coat the blade of my knife in the blood covering the room, drawing a wide, curved line. Glancing up at the terrified man before me, I felt my own grin widen as I stared at him. "You should smile."

"Masaomi, what are you doing?" He was standing, wavering on his feet as he struggled to move away from me. I guess he was actually scared—he wasn't putting up an act like he had when I had found him with that wretched Aoba after that Hijiribe lady's stalker had gone after that stupid little cat. When he had been covered in congealing pools of his own blood, nearly beaten to death because of his own idiocy.

His idiocy that never would have happened if he had common sense. But hanging out with that bastard Kuronuma had robbed him of that.

All the more reason to kill him.

Oh, wait. I already did.

Mikado was still talking. Why? What was the point? I thought he was too scared to talk, but he kept running that obnoxious little mouth of his. Is that what he did when he was threatened? Talk his enemy to death? That only worked in those movies—the ones with no real meaning, the ones that were made just to see people beat each other up and curse and drink and party and gamble—

"—what's wrong with you?"

I tensed as a chill raced down my spine. I was trembling—they started in my hands and worked through my body with a cruel efficiency, and soon I was violently shaking as I rocked on my feet.

I realized soon enough that I was laughing wildly. The knife in my hand waved precariously, balanced on the tips of my fingers as droplets of that precious crimson fluid scattered across the floor. I swayed on my feet as I threw my head back, declaring my horrid amusement to the crimson-white ceiling.

"Me? What's wrong with me?" I leaned close, poking his chest with the tip of my lovely, trustworthy little blade. "What's wrong with you? Fawning all over that stupid Kuronuma boy, letting him get into this—!" I jabbed the top of his head with my finger. "You're a little hypocrite, don't you know? A disgusting, miserable, sniveling little hypocrite."

It was all Aoba's fault. He had done this to my friend. My precious Mikado.

I suddenly felt the urge to rip what was left of his corpse to even smaller pieces.

Mikado was wincing, and I realized that I was squeezing his upper arms. I frowned, heat washing over me.

My breathing became faster as he grimaced in either pain or fear—both if I was seeing him correctly. God, why did he look so cute, drenched in his precious friend's blood?

I rose from my crouch in front of the raven-haired teen and stared at him. He watched me, searching my face for any hint that I wasn't going to attack him.

He shouldn't do that. Leaving his face all open like that was going to get him killed someday.

"Aoba didn't do anything wrong! He was only trying to help—!" Mikado cried out as my booted foot connected with his ribs, and I grinned as I felt and heard a satisfying crack.

My laughing was beginning to hurt my stomach and chest, but I found that I couldn't stop. It was just too funny—so, so, so, so damn funny. "Help? What could he possibly do to help you? He was nothing but a parasite, sucking what little common sense you had from you!" I growled and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, baring my teeth. Mikado was staring at me, tears brimming in the corners of his eyes. It only made me angrier.

Why was he crying?

I had gotten rid of his demons—I should be the one crying, not him. I had done the dastardly deed; I was the one who had sliced that stupid blue-haired, brown-eyed boy to ribbons—I was the one who had bathed in his blood, who had moaned in delight as I watched the blade of my knife sink in again and again into that pale flesh, who had laughed and mocked him as he screamed and screamed and begged for me to stop like I was his pet—

"I didn't want this! Why did you do this, Kida?" He was shaking his head, over and over, sweat dripping from his skin as he trembled visibly. "Why? What did he ever do to you? Why did you kill him?"

Before either of us realized it, I had picked Mikado up by the throat and slammed him against the wall. I tilted my head, making the blood-soaked strands of my hair obscure my vision briefly as I tightened my grip around his throat.

Mikado gasped and struggled, pure terror flashing in his lovely blue-gray eyes. "K-Kida, you're hurting m-me!"

"Good!" I laughed and pressed him harder against the wall, reveling in the pained cries he gave. I paused, breathing heavily as a dim realization sounded in the back of my mind. Wait, when had I become such a sadist? No, wait—was I masochistic? Had it felt good when I was beaten by my former gang members, or when Aoba had clawed at my flesh and cursed and spat at me—?

"Let me go! Kida!" Mikado was still struggling, and it was beginning to make me irritated. Honestly, couldn't he just be still and quiet so I could have a peaceful conversation with him.

"Be quiet." I punched him in the stomach, watching his eyes widen as he gasped even more for air. "You don't tell me what to do, and you never will!" I shook him hard, giggling as his eyes bugged out even more. "Why can't you understand? I helped you! You should be grateful!"

I glared at him as tears began to pour down his face. It was only making me angrier—I now knew how Shizou felt when he was overcome with a blinding, overwhelming rage.

My blade was clenched tightly in my hand, and I pressed it against the pale expanse of his suddenly sickening throat. I trembled as I watched him moan and beg for me to stop. Heat raced through my body, and I bared my teeth at the piece-of-crap traitor in front of me.

"You little piece of—I did this all for you!" I shook the younger man harder, my body trembling viciously as I bared my teeth in something like a snarl. "Why won't you understand? I was protecting you! Protecting you from that"—I motioned over to the remnants of Aoba's corpse, grinning at the beautiful mess I had made—it was breathtaking and awe-inspiring and just wonderful—

"But you can't seem to understand that! Tell me what I have to do, Mikado!" I pressed close to him, feeling the fearful trembling of his body and hearing his waterlogged shaky breaths. "Do I have to beat the truth into you? Huh?" I laughed, watching him flinch in discomfort as I braced more of my weight into his torso. "Don't tell me my little Mikado gets off on being beat? Do you? Huh?"

I held the blade of my knife against his face, tracing the edge over his skin and shuddering in delight as the crimson fluid began to flow. "Do I have to carve my words into your skin to make you believe them?"

"Kida!"

I whipped around, keeping my grip on the traitor's throat. When I saw who was standing there, my grin faltered and fell as I stared with wide and disbelieving eyes.

Anri stood there, her hands clasped to her chest as tears brimmed in her eyes. Pure and unadulterated terror was clear in her beautiful brown eyes, and she looked close to vomiting as she took in the room before her.

Quick and light footsteps sounded in the hall, and then a towering blonde man appeared behind her. His eyes widened and his hands clenched into fists at the horrific—no, delightful—mess behind Mikado and I.

"What...what the hell is this?" Heiwajima Shizou demanded, fixing his murderous glare on me. "What the hell did you do?"

I grinned widely, rocking on the balls of my feet as I began to laugh again. "I was finally useful. I helped Mikado!"

Shizou growled and stalked into the room, and I was surprised that no one stopped him. I looked around, taking in their horrified expressions. We were at a crime scene, right? Wasn't he contaminating the evidence by stomping all over it?

Mikado was still trembling beneath me, and his breathing was wet and shaky. "Sh-Shizou, don't—please—"

Suddenly, a sharp pain exploded in the back of my head, and the world succumbed to darkness.

As I drifted off into unconsciousness, I smiled into the terrified faces of my friends.

"He deserved it..."

Let me know what you think, and if you want more!