I had genuinely intended on never posting on this account again (nor writing fanfiction for that matter), though I figured I would leave it up regardless. Largely because I lost interest in fandoms – or at least, being actively involved in fandoms. Not to mention that the shows I used to watch are mostly ones I am no long interested in. Durarara! will always be a favorite for me though, probably.

Anyways. I'm back here to post again solely for the reason that I got a rather rude comment on an old story of mine telling me that they hope I quit writing. This, naturally, inspired me to write. I'm just passive aggressive and contrary by nature, really. Which isn't to say that I somehow forced myself to write this out of spite. I rather like these characters, and now that I'm a bit older I think it interesting to re-explore my analysis on their dynamic – or at least, the possibilities of their dynamics. I somehow get the feeling this story might somehow be OOC... I wonder why that is... *this is sarcasm*

Anyways, I guess this could be read as either a shippy fic or just Izaya being a creep. Well, Izaya's being a creep in this regardless, but you know what I mean. John Donne would be rolling in his grave if he knew someone was using his writing as a title for this... I'll add another A/N at the bottom

Warnings for casual discussion of death, implications of canon typical violence, and some light gore I supposed. I think that, considering it's Durarara! we're talking about here, the level of fucked-up-ness in this story isn't honestly that much more than in canon...

'Why.'

People seem to like to ask that a lot. The start of a question which leads into near endless possible queries.

'Why did you do that?'

'Why do we exist?'

'Why didn't you do the dishes?'

"Why do you insist on antagonizing him like that?"

Izaya, despite having a career in information, finds himself unable to answer most of those examples. Only most, because he knows exactly why he didn't do the dishes. That is, because he didn't feel like it, and really Namie, what else is a secretary for?

This deficit in knowledge is not for lack of trying; as his very profession dictates – and his natural curiosity only enforces – finding and then having the answers is what he strives to do. Not knowing is simply not an option, as far as he can see, and this is why such open ended questions haunt him. Particularly the last one, coming from the mouth of his childhood... associate, shortly after the tragic destruction of various public and private properties, curtesy of one Shizou Heiwajima (not Izaya's fault at all, of course). Now that is one question that Izaya seems to have subconsciously avoided asking himself, and perhaps for good reason. But being called out by Shinra caused Izaya pause. Though he felt he should be bothered by such a question being left untouched and unanswered, Izaya found that what bothered him even more was to try to answer it. Sure there were many possible answers, some less desirable than others, but answers none the less. Perhaps it's because Shizuo is a tool made to be controlled, and Izaya is simply exercising said control of said tool. Or, maybe, because Shizuo possesses a strength as of yet found in no other, and it is in Izaya's best interests to maintain his dominance over such a volatile pawn. Maybe Izaya recognizes that Shizuo's abilities, and the fact he isn't under Izaya's thumb, may make him the only true threat to Izaya. The last one seemed to leave a stale taste in Izaya's mouth, and he decided it was his least favorite.

However, none of the possible reasons for his behavior gave a satisfactory answer. Sure, they were possible, maybe even probable. Yet Izaya knew they weren't really the answer.

Izaya considered himself to have many useful and flattering qualities, not least of all his pragmatism. And, surely, it would be for the best that he find the root of his newly realized compulsion. It was a weakness, and Izaya didn't have weaknesses. He couldn't afford to have weaknesses.

Not that Izaya was easily cowed, but he did find this revelation to unnerve him. This lack of control – and that is what it was – simply wasn't in line with the personality he had determined himself to have. He knows it's not a conscious choice to provoke Shizuo at every turn, and no matter how fun it is he should not be indulging without good reason. And, really, just the fact that he could apply the word 'indulgence' to the situation in the first place is, in itself, disconcerting. And with that, Izaya resolved he would find the reasons he was drawn to Shi- ... well, no. The reason he was tempted to provoke Shizuo so regularly.

He of course said none of this to Shinra. After all, information is priceless, and information he doesn't actually have even more so. Instead Izaya only flippantly replied, "Well, it's not my fault if the brute takes offense too easily."

Shinra left it at that.

It wasn't until later, after wasting far too much time attempting to solve what was apparently unsolvable, that Izaya realized a much easier solution. Simple, really, all he had to do was remove the problem. By which he of course means kill Shizuo. Shizuo's continued presence only hindered Izaya – his unpredictability was frankly unacceptable, and his power – though accidental on Shizuo's part – to cause Izaya such lapses in control were... uncomfortable, to say the least. Removing Shizuo would allow Izaya to have complete control and, honestly, he wasn't sure why he had never truly considered this option before. There was really no good reason to have kept Shizuo around so long.

There was only the problem of actually, well, carrying it out. Izaya highly doubted he would himself would be able to kill Shizuo, of all people. Not to mention that though the act wasn't unfamiliar to him, it was not in his best interests to be easily connected to this particular murder. Yet Izaya couldn't seem to think of anyone – whether a group or an individual – who he was confident could handle the unstoppable force that was Shizuo. And no, this wasn't him stalling. Izaya found the idea of Shizuo's death rather exhilarating, actually. The thought seemed to cause some emotion he had considered long lost to rise uncomfortably into his chest and up his throat. It was odd, yet not unpleasant, so he allowed it.

He perhaps even encouraged it, and filled his free time with such thoughts. He attempted to picture Shizuo collapsed on the ground, perhaps from the severity of his injuries or perhaps from death itself. Shizuo was perpetually high strung, and Izaya wasn't sure he had ever seen the man relax. And so the body of Shizuo in his mind was limp in a way he doubted the real Shizuo ever would be, furthering the illusion of death. The body's limbs were still, carelessly splayed in a manner suggesting an undignified fall to the pavement. Izaya could picture how the muscles would be loose, a far cry from their usual uncomfortably tense state. The image, though clearly a result of violence, was peaceful. Worryingly serene in a manner that clashed heavily with the implications. Izaya could not fathom any other scenario in which the name 'Shizuo' could be linked to peace or serenity.

In that specific fantasy, there was no blood. Not on the pavement, nor on the body itself. Izaya doubted there was blood even in the body's veins, if the pallor – unusually pale for even a corpse – was any indication. There was no blood in this particular fantasy, but there was certainly blood in others.

The fantasies started to follow him into his dreams.

Izaya dreamt that Shizuo dyed his hair a rather bold shade of red. On closer inspection, this was not true. His hair was the same poorly maintained bottle blond as always – however, in the dream, sticky streaks of blood were drying in it. Similarly, blood seemed to drench the unnaturally still face in a rather familiar manner, pouring down the neck to where Izaya expected to see it stain the crisp white collar of Shizuo's overly worn bartender's suit. It did not, as it seemed this Shizuo had forgone his customary outfit. It all made a rather striking image, Izaya thought, and could not help but move closer. He could not find any clear wound that could have been the source of the blood, yet he was confident it came from Shizuo and no one else.

Lost in the unreality of dreams, Izaya uncharacteristically gently took Shizuo's head between his two hands, palms smearing the blood further across his cheeks before moving up into his hair to push it back. One palm eventually settled in the locks of hair on the back of Shizuo's head, and he gentle lifted it up, mesmerized. As it was a dream, Izaya's senses were dulled and he could not feel the smooth tackiness of the blood, nor the brush of hair between his fingers. Later, while awake, he would close his eyes and attempt to call the scene back to mind. He would imagine what the weight of Shizuo's head would feel like within his hands. He figured Shizuo's hair would be rather brittle from being bleached so regularly, and that the blood – while pleasantly textured at first – would begin to flake and lump together once it started drying.

It wasn't until right before he woke up that he realized Shizuo's head lacked a body, and he woke up thinking about both Celty and Shizuo.

This time, at least, he wasn't actually trying to provoke Shizuo. He couldn't very well help it if the bastard's sense of smell was unrealistically keen. Was he truly expected to never enter Ikebukuro? And, even if he was expected to not, was he going to listen? Unlikely.

Izaya will admit, in the privacy of his mind, that more often than not he entered Ikebukuro with full intentions to aggravate Shizuo in the process of doing so. It was simply a bonus of doing business in that specific location. Regardless, that was not the case this time. He'd declared himself a reformed man until he had figured out the way to best orchestrate Shizuo's death, yet it seemed Shizuo was only intent on unhelpfully enabling him. Typical of the brute, really. The one time Izaya doesn't want to anger Shizuo, and yet he still ends up being chased across all of Ikebukuro by the monster. He honestly hadn't desired for this happen – this time – and was miffed to find that he found a similar exhilaration in running from Shizuo as he found in fantasizing about Shizuo's death. He was unsure if this was a new development, or if he simply had never noticed it before. He wasn't okay with either explanation.

Still, this was the situation he found himself in; and who would he be to pass up an opportunity and not make the most of it?

And so yes, maybe he did throw in a few taunts. But only after Shizuo started it by approaching him first – though 'stampeded' would be a better description. From there it took off as normal – Izaya leading and Shizuo following. Izaya would compare him to a loyal dog, but dog's don't tend to try and crush their masters with vending machines.

On a whim, Izaya ducked into an alley before stopping altogether. His breath seemed short, and heart pounded, both results of what he could only call anticipation – his stamina was too built up for him to be worn out already. As expected, Shizuo dashed around the corner close behind him, though the sight of Izaya merely waiting for him seemed to throw him for a loop. Izaya attempted to imagine what Shizuo must be seeing in his eyes right now, what expression he must be making. He failed at doing so, as he himself was unfamiliar with the particular cocktail of emotions he felt within himself.

The sudden change in routine didn't stall Shizuo for long, and Izaya shortly found a set of hands around his neck and his back against the grimy alley wall. It appeared that this was, on some level, what he had been desiring to happen. However the hands did not tighten, and Shizuo only looked befuddled at Izaya's apparent lack of resistance. You would think, what with him being the one to have Izaya at his mercy, that Shizuo would appear more triumphant. And truthfully, he did seem to be only barely holding himself back from strangling Izaya, as his fingers twitched and tensed around Izaya's throat. Perhaps he was held back by a sense of instilled caution from years of their dalliances playing out a certain way – Izaya doesn't believe he's ever allowed Shizuo to corner him like this – resulting in confusion as to how he should play it from here.

Izaya kept his hands, and consequently the knife covertly tucked in one palm, by his sides. His stomach fluttered in anticipation, and though a far off part of his mind faintly yelled at him to do something, he expertly ignored it. And really, it was rather anticlimactic, the extended eye contact and Shizuo's non-action quickly putting a damper on Izaya's excitement. Now annoyed, Izaya chose to fill the silence with more than tension and heavy breathing, "Well? Has someone succeeded in hitting your thick head so hard that it's resulted in brain damage?" he taunted, "You seem slower than normal. Aren't you going to do something or not?"

Shizuo seemed to need another minute to sort through what was apparently too much thinking for him, blinking several times and furrowing his brow, before cautiously opening his mouth. "What are you playing at, Flea?" he finally settled on. A lot of suspense all for nothing, apparently.

Izaya clicked his tongue, forming what he imagined was a nasty smirk on his face, before saying, "What happened to all those threats? Weren't you going to kill me? Well, here's your chance you know, or are you so dumb that you can't even figure out where to go from here? Figures you'd need a master commanding you every step of the way, even through murder. Speaking of, just where is he? I can't imagine he'd be too happy what with you breaking from your leash and running off – " Izaya probably would have kept going, but Shizuo's eyes began to cloud over with annoyance once more and he felt the fingers begin to tighten, so he cut himself off. Izaya's heart picked up once more, and the now familiar excitement settled in his abdomen. He vaguely wondered what he expected to get out of this that was beneficial to him.

The moment was rather short lived however, Shizuo taking in Izaya's expression before appearing to sober up. Izaya truly wondered what his face must look like, to succeed in intimidating Shizuo Heiwajima. Hesitantly, Shizuo began to remove his hands from Izaya's throat. This wasn't playing out how Izaya wanted, and he tightly gripped his knife before once more acting on a whim. Quickly he brought the blade to Shizuo's throat, who looked startled. "Don't move your hands. Put them back," Izaya commanded, feeling rather testy when Shizuo didn't immediately obey. Izaya's other hand shot up to grip Shizuo's collar tightly. He knew his strength would never stop Shizuo, but he pressed the knife more firmly against Shizuo's throat. He was unsure this would succeed, but it seemed enough for Shizuo to freeze with his hands pulled inches from Izaya's own neck. Shizuo seemed wholly out of depth in the situation.

Izaya took pity on him and, being careful not to show that he in any way was unsure of his own actions, ordered once more, "Put them back. Your hands." Shizuo obeyed.

It was a rather heady feeling of control that Izaya felt. Granted, it was a bizarre form of control; pinned against an alley wall with the hands of the person you hate most around your neck, and by your own command at that. But it was... intoxicating. Izaya pressed his knife into Shizuo's neck until it gently pierced skin. Shizuo swallowed heavily, and stupidly, as it only resulted in a deeper wound for him. A pearl of blood broke free and slowly rolled down his neck, Izaya's eyes following it the entire way until it reached the starch white of Shizuo's shirt collar. It was a rather minuscule amount of blood compared to the amount from his dream, and the presence of the collar cut the blood off short from continuing down the neck. Yet despite the clear differences, all Izaya could think about was Shizuo's decapitated head within his hands. He found himself unable to breath, watching the slow bloom of red stain the fabric. Next Izaya's eyes moved up to Shizuo's hair, as though to check it wasn't matted with blood like in Izaya's dream. It wasn't. However, he did notice that it was about as dried out and brittle as he imagine it would be, though thick enough to retain body. Izaya felt an odd twinge of what might have been disappointment that he never got to see Shizuo when he still had brown hair. How odd. Izaya's eyes fell to the slack and bewildered face before him, completely of their own volition of course. Shizuo was definitely out of his depth here, seemingly torn between anger and some bastardization of fear. As though he both wanted to crush Izaya's windpipe, and turn on the spot to flee the situation all together. Izaya traced the blade of his knife teasingly along the length of Shizuo's neck until it rested securely against the soft flesh below his jaw. Assumedly it was this that caused Shizuo to settle on as his emotions, and Izaya was sure it was the first time he'd ever seen Shizuo's face so... not angry. Idly, he thought that when not twisted into pure hatred, Shizuo's face was startlingly okay to look at.

Izaya doesn't remember departing from Shizuo, nor walking home, nor falling asleep. Clearly, though, he was asleep. He had trouble imaging a scenario that would actually result in Shizuo's death, outside of his fantasies – though highly enjoyable, they were also unrealistic – and so the image of Shizuo's severed head was clearly not reality. Rather, it had appeared Izaya had returned to this particular dream. He thought maybe he should start seeing someone about these fantasies, but quickly pushed that idea to the back of his mind in favor of kneeling besides Shizuo's head.

This time, Shizuo was not nearly as bloody, and Izaya could better see the details of his face. It was fully neutral and relaxed, even more so than it was when Izaya had seen him earlier that evening, having not even the fear or confusion that had graced it then. Izaya fully lifted the head this time, supporting its weight in both palms so he could peer at where the neck cut off. He recalled briefly that last time, with the brief glimpse he had gotten before waking up, he had seen it to be ragged and bloody. Nothing like the clean cut of Celty's head. This time it was equally ragged and torn, yet lacked the blood that had been such a focal point in the previous version of this dream.

Somehow Izaya half expected to find Shizuo's eyes to have opened once he looked back to the face. Unsurprisingly, they hadn't, and remained steadfastly shut. Lashes cast delicate shadows down and across cheeks, which Izaya could see the sickening pallor of now that they weren't obscured by blood. He imagined that if he could truly feel things in his dreams, that Shizuo's head would be painfully cold, giving frost bite to Izaya's fingertips.

Izaya woke up feeling both excited and vaguely nauseous. He decided that he will probably be disappointed once Shizuo dies.

Well, please don't judge me for that, as I did warn you. Word count without A/N's is 3,108. I wrote it in one sitting and only briefly edited it because I'm tired and nothing matters anyways.

This story was dedicated to 'k', a very kind anonymous reviewer who inspired me to write again in my time of need. Thank you very much, your comment really made my day 3