*AUTHORS NOTE*
I haven't given up on my other running fanfic Unlock Me: ABD, and I haven't come across writers block either. I'm just in a lighter mood and I don't want to spoil the upcoming twists to that story so I just needed a breather.
There are so many fanfics with Izaya having a hidden crush on Shizuo, so I'd thought it would be nice to have it the other way round this time.
He dragged the sign post as if dragging the world's hatred for the flea within a finger and a thumb, the dense air he carried with it earning half of Ikebukuro's white stares.
When one saw the flash of a silk black tie or the fuzz of ludicrously bleached hair, one knew not to mess with the fortissimo of Tokyo.
His teeth were gritted like metal against stone: grinding; growling; grating; rasping. His hazel eyes as pale and as dismaying as a calm before roaring thunder.
Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill.
The smell intoxicated his nose, making his senses blare red: today stunk of flea.
He didn't know what irritated him about the raven so much as to fixate his life and wroth upon him; the fact that now it was as if the informant was the centre of his reality and dreams infuriated him nonetheless. From that revolting smirk to that beyond twisted personality- there was so much he could start on that he never paid a second thought to where this deep passion to spill* from the man rooted from, besides whether his feelings were truly hate in the first place. He just took it as a given. No one can hold anything but hate to the raven, right?
Then there was that weird doctor, but he had a few loose screws himself so there's no wonder why the two can get along even remotely well- despite being as sociopathic as they are.
The blond halted his train of thoughts as he felt a hand on his shoulder, shoulders sagging under familiarity of that gesture.
He turned to a man with dreadlocks, a soft frown donned on his calm face. "You can save that for when we collect the last debt Shizuo. We have a job to do."
"Ah…." He let the post collapse on its side, loud shrill making the gap between the pair and the crowd enlarge.
Tom sighed. "You think you can last one more round?"
The blond gave a gruff nod before following the back of his sempai, hands snug deep in his dress pants.
Again taking another detour in his dire want for some damned peace, he followed the scent with blood pounding his ears.
Every step he took it got stronger.
And stronger….
And stronger…
And it fucking fumed-
Shizuo nearly fell crashing to his knees as he turned the corner, and would have done if not for the tree which greeted him with a callous smack. But it was not that that troubled him the most, but the scene laid out before his bulging eyes. Oblivious to the whispers around him, as the whisperers to he, he nearly had to drag his feet forward, cocking his head in a sideways glance.
"Oh my god- who is that boy?"
"He's so cute."
It shouldn't have been strange for a ridiculously affluent man to have a whole room as his wardrobes, forbye a crimson silk shirt, expensive jeans and a leather sports jacket that ended at that discriminatingly lissom waist line. But the pure idea of the flea without his ass-ugly trademark coat that he seemed to love so much seemed inane.
He couldn't bring himself to deny he looked good in fresh wear- no, better than good. But neither would the blond bring himself to admit that much as his eyes scaled up and down the lithe figure.
"What the-"
Take aback by his actions, he stumbled back, falling and melting into the swarming of voices that abused his ears. He could just feel his head bruising as he brought a firm hand to his temple.
"Oh my god, he's hot."
"Wait, is that a girl or a boy?"
"I dunno, but either way with those lines I'd do him any day."
"Oi, oi, that's Orihara you're talking about…"
"No way…"
The debt collector let out an ungraceful snort at the remarks that popped up at such a normal, everyday display- but now that he took a closer look at the raven, he could even come to understand why they would question his gender. If his striking, feminine facial features weren't enough- then his limber body shape told all. The t shirt complimented the red under those hooded eyelids, the blond barely catching himself from being mesmerised by the glowing crimson that should have sparked danger. But with the voices washing over him, he could only let himself be engulfed by the sight.
"That can't be that feared informant Rio told me to stay away from-"
"Yeah, but what other man in Tokyo is that slender?"
"Ughh…my balls just feel tight looking at her."
"Never knew you did guys Kousei."
"He, she or even he-she. I want him."
The blond's head snapped round loud enough to turn a few heads, the owners rendering silence as their gaze met bleached locks of a towering feature. Thundering footsteps receded to quiet echoes by four ruddy kids, the one sporting a piercing freezing as he gazed into dark hazels. He tapped his hooded friend on the shoulder, who pouted and gave the boy a playful punch.
"What do ya-" He peered up to the unwanted presence, eyes narrowed. "What the fuck you staring out you little creep. If you're into children old man, go el-"
All the boy knew of was a loud roar and a flash of black till he was sent flying across the street. Both men and woman alike fleeted like geese as the ex-bartender's voice thundered down the concrete streets, making even glass shudder in their frames like skeletons.
"WHO'S THE FUCKING CREEP WHO STARES AT FLEAS HUUUUHHHHHHHHH?" A crack of bone, and another was sent flying. "FUCKING DEPRIVED MAN WHORES LIKE YOU SHOULD GO FUCKING CASTRATE THEMSLVES IF YOU WANT IT SO BAD AS TO PICK HIM."
He could have sworn that he heard that oh so painstakingly-familiar voice that sounded smooth as honey dripping in venom, raise up a round of high pitched mirth. But the grumble of rails being yanked from their steel roots was enough to send any trace of life running.
That's it.
Lifeless Peace.
No bird. No stray cat. No whisperer. No flea.
I only took them out because they pissed me off… The blond grounded his teeth as if baring off any man that dared enter within 5 metre radius. That's it. Nothing else…
More things started to irritate him: like how thin the flea's waist was, bones jutting out like love handles. If his face wasn't already enough to piss him off… Shaking his head he nearly bolted his own door down, resoluting to his key with what little sense he had left.
He decided to stop thinking all together. Stop thinking about those long, girly lashes and model-like hair. He stopped thinking about Izaya. Because every time the thought of touching that silky whiteness under those thin layers crossed his mind, he felt a sort of tightness grip his groin.
And he hated it.
It made him feel groggy, uncomfortable, hot and… craving.
Oblivious to his self-confession, he lumbered through the oak frame of a corridor before letting his worn muscles crumble onto the soft of leather, the sofa giving out an airy sigh under his weight.
*spill- get the pun?
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