Title: Perfection

Author: Amaya_no_gin

Pairing: Shizaya

Overall Rating: Mature for violence and whatnot in the future

Warning: some scenes maybe graphic! This IS NOT A SHOTA…just putting that out there.

Disclaimer: I do not own Durarara© or its characters etc….

Summary: As a child Izaya was always sick and became fascinated with the strong boy he saw from his window. To him, the boy was perfect, therefore he couldn't be human since, his humans were all imperfect.

'No human's perfect. Shizuo was perfect. Therefore Shizuo wasn't human.' It was simple logic, which helped Izaya deduce that his blond was a monster.

Chapter 1

"Ahh, gwah!"

A little groan could be heard faintly from a boy in a bathroom as he threw up. He's short, silver hair and sickly pale skin, didn't glow in the moonlight that cascaded into the room via a window. Little hands clenched the sides of the toilet seat as more chunky orange-green mixture escaped from between chapped lips. "Mah" the owner of the voice tried to amplify it but couldn't, as the chunky mixture started to thin out; becoming watery. Gasping, the tiny figure on his knees, tried to call out again while attempting to still he's stomach. "MAMA HELP I… GWAH!"

A woman with brown, wavy hair rushed into the tiled room in her blue nightgown. A gasp left her lips as her crimson eyes stared at the trembling figure over the toilet. "My baby! OH, why didn't you call me sooner?"

She quickly knelt next to her son and rubbed his small back with care. "I…I tried…hmm! It…hurts." Little sobs could be heard as the vomit session seemed to be over…for now.

Biting her lips, she tried to stop her tears and gently pulled him into her arms; she had to be strong for him. "I'm sorry sweetie. Mom's so sorry."

The little body in her arms had stilled. Frighten, she quickly checked his pulse, and let out a shaky breath as she felt one. 'He's only asleep'

Carefully, the young woman lifted the child off the cold floor; she overlooked the orange-green chunks that had splattered randomly around the once clean room. Her red eyes ignored the room filled with toys and books, as she stared ahead until she reached the master bedroom.

She laid the child down as if he was made of glass then left only to return quickly with a damp wash cloth and a shirt much too large for either of them. As she cleaned and redressed the tiny body, she felt tears running down her face. Her son was small, too small for a child turning eight in few months

'…if he turns eight...' she shook her head and discarded the thought as she laid next to him then covered them both. When she heard a whimper, she tenderly ran her delicate fingers through the unusual silver hair that adorned her son's head. The sound died down and she thought he had fallen asleep again. She decided she would do the same and began to close her eyes, but they snapped open at the sound of a weak, frightened voice broke the silence.

"Mama."

"I'm here sweetie." crimson eyes stared into a pair like her own, except duller.

"Mama, am I a bad boy?"

"No honey, you're a good boy; my little angel."

"Is that why I'm sick?"

"What"

"Does God want me to come home to Heaven already? Is that why I'm so sick?"

"…" The woman grew still as unshed tears, blurred her vision of glazed over red eyes.

"But mama…I don't want to go yet. I don't want to leave you and dad. I want to meet the little boys I saw…I don't…want…to die." The child's silence and frail breathe hitting her face told her that he had fallen asleep again; that she hadn't lost him.

She could cry now since the one that depended on her, was now in his own world. Her sobs were soft as she didn't want to wake him. A pale had gone back to stroking the silvery mane.

"You are my miracle, please don't leave me. Please Izaya, stay with your mommy." All night into the dawn, the young mother guarded her child as he slept.

Q

Later that day had been hectic for the young woman, as she had to go to work. Lucky she owned a shop below, where her family lived. But with her little grocery store busier than normal, it was harder for her to get time to run up and check on her still sleeping son. Finally, around four in the afternoon, the crowd had died down completely. Putting a 'be back soon' sign up, she locked the shop entrance then tiredly made her way to the room where she had left the little boy.

Panic filled her as she found the bed and bathrooms vacant. She quickly ran to Izaya's room and sighed as relief filled her body. He was sitting by his window; he's red eyes observing the world he wasn't a part of.

"Izaya, how are you feeling?" the child didn't take his eyes off the people that he could see.

"Better mama, now that I'm watching my humans."

"Your humans?" the woman asked, as she took a seat next to him on the floor.

"Yes… Just because they don't want me doesn't mean I don't want them." The little voice was young and weak, but the words were wise.

"Are you looking for the little boys you told me about?"

"…" Izaya felt his face heat up "the big one is always hurt, so he needs someone to look after him. The smaller one is quiet but he tries to help the big one."

A smile graced her tired face as she saw a tiny bit of pink, dust the normally grayish cheeks. "They sound nice." As she adjusted her glasses and looked out the window, she saw two small figures coming in the shop's direction. "Is that them?" she said pointing to the right.

"That's them." The red eyed boy gasped and smiled, but he frowned as he noticed the arm brace on the taller boy's right arm. "He's injured again."

"Oh no! I wonder if he'll be ok?" A small hand pulled gently at her blouse causing her to look at its owner. "Yes Izaya?"

He's cheeks were more pink than before while he's red eyes shone a bit. "I…I want…to help them."

The determined but nervous voice with the life in her son's eyes made the woman want to do anything to keep them like that. "What do you want to do?"

"…umm…well…the last doctor said milk helps bones…so could you give them milk, please mama?"

Smiling the lady nodded as she got up to fulfill, one of the few request her child had ever ask of her.

Q