poppin' pills
.
.
...
take my hand let's go,
somewhere we can rest our souls.
we'll sit where it's warm,
you say, 'look, we're here alone.'
...
.
(everything is beautiful and nothing hurts)
.
"Come on," Shizuo murmurs. The sun is blazing overhead – Izaya figures that it's probably around noon now. It's always sunny here, he thinks sullenly, always disgustingly bright and happy and fake.
But Shizuo doesn't seem to mind it, so Izaya just goes along with it anyway and doesn't complain. It's colorful here – filled with green grasses and rainbow-colored flowers and bright yellow sunshine – and he doesn't like it, Izaya doesn't like it at all.
A bell rings, and the blonde haired ten year-old tugs on his sleeve urgently and harshly and looks up at him and whispers, "Izaya, we have to hurry, we're going to be late and they'll take away our meal!" and starts taking off in the direction of the dining hall.
He follows him half-heartedly and enters the hall. In the room, everything's white and blinding and plain. He already sees Shizuo approaching the lunch lady. She's tall and long necked, with a fake smile plastered on her face like dry clay on her wrinkled face. She looks down at Shizuo with a chastising look and gives him two pills, some bread, and a bowl of soup.
Izaya gets his food as well and sits at Shizuo's table. He glares at the large blue tablets. There's something wrong with them, he knows it. He feels the ugly lunch lady's death glare on his back, threatening him to hurry up and take them. Usually, he'd just stick them into his secret inside pocket he made in the hem of those ugly trousers all children had to wear, but not today, he grumbles mentally.
The pills are large and bland, and Izaya has to force them down his throat and wash them down with water. Some kind of bliss, nostalgic feeling washes over him, and oh man, was he screwed, because now the Council wants to brainwash him or something and boy, he doesn't like this at all.
The food isn't bad, really – bordering on decent tasting – were it not for the bitter taste underneath layers of flavor. It makes the whole thing taste disgusting, Izaya thinks angrily, like they don't care enough to give us decent food.
"Hey, Shizzy," Izaya murmurs. He gets a glare at the nickname, but he pays it no mind. "What do you think about running away?"
Shizuo's expression turns surprised. "What?" he asks. "Is this another one of your weird schemes?"
Izaya rolls his eyes. "Answer the question."
"Well..." His face turns thoughtful. "The Council would catch us, but yeah, it'd be nice to leave the Region. Kinda like an adventure, yanno?" He shrugs. "Why do you ask?"
It's his turn to shrug now. "I don't know, it was just a thought, hm?" He thinks of bright colors and pissed off lunch ladies and the disapproving faces of the Council. "It'd be nice to escape from this hellhole," he mutters half to himself.
Shizuo gives him a weird look – it's concerned, Izaya realizes. Maybe he thinks I'm loony, but the blonde doesn't say anything, and just goes back to eating the too-bland bread and the too-bitter soup.
.
(will you answer my prayer? please take me anywhere but here.)
.
The school room is almost completely white, too, with only a light brown door, tables, and chairs; even those are plain.
It's history class, and Izaya's excited because they've only had a history lesson twice – one in first year, another in fourth – and they're in eighth year now. The teacher is strict, mean, and hook-nosed, but Izaya doesn't really care. Shizuo does, though, and now is squirming in his chair and glaring at his feet. It's kind of cute, he thinks absentmindedly, and then purses his lips. Homosexuality isn't exactly looked upon fondly in the Region.
All the more to get out of here.
He snaps back to reality when the hook-nose lady drawls, "Today, we are learning about the history of the Region and its Founders."
The woman starts talking about the Rulers and the Founders, and how they were oh-so-magnificent – Izaya hates the sugarcoating, but hey, the stuff's interesting, so it's alright.
Then the old skinny lady's stoic facial expression darkens a shade, and Izaya's interest peaks, because what would make her tick like that?
She tells a story of a 'foolish young girl who dared defy the council!' who spoke her opinions at a Court session. Her tongue was cut off as a reminder of her 'wrongdoings'. Despite her popularity before, she was shunned and rejected by everyone – she was given the burnt leftovers for food, the dirty, used hygiene utensils to clean with, and the torn, hand-me-down clothes to wear. She lived like that for several months, but then had her head chopped off in a public execution anyway.
"Serves her right," the teacher snarls. Every student is either looking at her with wide eyes of amazement or gaping mouths of shock. Some are even nodding enthusiastically.
"Did you know her," one kid asks. "What was her name?"
The teacher glares begrudgingly at the windowsill. "I did," she admits, grumbling. "I thought she was a bright child, before that incident." She shakes her head disapprovingly. "What a stupid young girl. Insane, she is, to have those thoughts inside of her head."
Everyone's silent, now. Izaya glances over at Shizuo – Shizuo shifts a bit awkwardly next to him, and his hands start twitching like they always did when he was uncomfortable.
But he's too afraid to speak up, he realizes. He thinks it's wrong, but he's afraid of getting his tongue chopped off like that girl.
A plan starts forming in his head.
.
(am I bright enough to shine in your spaces?)
.
It's the night before the Choosing Ceremony, and the night's clear and dark. They're turning seventeen tomorrow, too.
Izaya can tell that's Shizuo's scared – his face is completely devoid of emotion, but his fidgeting fingers betray the expression, he notes.
In all honesty, Izaya doesn't want to be assigned to some job he doesn't like, either – the Council never really liked him, so he probably was going to get the food delivery job or something.
"Tomorrow, we're finally going to be of age, huh," he says a bit awkwardly.
"Yeah." The blonde's sigh is laced with bitterness and nostalgia. Shizuo sits down on the edge of the bench in front of those blindingly colorful flowers that Izaya hates so much.
He flops down next to him and mutters, "You know those pills we had to take ever since we could eat?"
Shizuo seems a bit bewildered at the sudden topic change, but nods a confirmation nonetheless.
"Well, I figured out what they do," He looks at Shizuo. "They brainwash you into becoming the Council's pawns."
Izaya stares at his face, watching for any signs of denial or anything. He watches compellation flicker across his expression.
"You don't seem surprised," he states. It's not a question, because Izaya knows him well enough to say it as a fact.
Shizuo shrugs. "Can't really say I am," he says, and purses his lips. "Always knew that those Council bastards were up to something."
He raises his eyebrows. "But…?"
"But why don't they work on us?"
Izaya laughs. "You mean, why don't they work on you? I've only taken it a few times. I've been throwing away the pills; I've always thought they were strange."
Shizuo falls silent. He's looking out at the roses of ridiculous flowers in the park. Maybe they aren't so bad, Izaya thinks. At night, they don't look so happy and fake. They have darker and sadder hues, and seem to wilt without the blinding, yellow sun.
"Hey, Shizuo," he whispers. "Let's get the hell out of here."
A small smile curves up on the blonde's lips. "Is this another one of your weird schemes," he recalls, murmuring back softly.
He smiles a bit at the déjà vu. Kind of nostalgic, really, he thinks to himself. "I'm serious," he says. But he laughs a little to let him know that he gets it, and Shizuo just smiles at him with warm caramel eyes.
They settle back into near-silence; the only sounds are the slight trickles of the water fountain and the slight swooshes of the trees.
"When," Shizuo mutters, and it's so quiet Izaya has to strain his ears to hear.
"Tomorrow night, after the Ceremony," Izaya says quietly. "That way, people will think we're out celebrating while in actuality, we're out of here."
It's silent again. Shizuo's radiating warmth and Izaya moves just a bit closer to him subconsciously, like a moth attracted to a bright light. They're sitting next to each other, and they're sitting a little too close to be friends but a little too far to be lovers, and that's just good enough for Izaya.
"Is that alright for you?" he wants to confirm, feeling just a bit queasy with uncertainty.
And Shizuo gives him a slight, knowing, amused smile, and says, "Yeah, okay."
"Tomorrow night."
"Okay, Iza."
And Izaya has to smile at that.
.
(one chance to keep from falling)
.
They sneak out at midnight with the silver moonlight gently shining down on them.
.
.
owari
first ever durarara!/shizaya one shot; done.
(and serah, if you're reading this, I love you.)
please, please review and tell me what you think. I love all feedback, good and bad. (criticism would be great, but I don't expect it.)
it keeps me writing.
-dt pencils