CHAPTER ONE

Their first meeting really sets the tone for their whole relationship.

Shizuo is sat in the study room late after school, cramming for exams. He's never been that smart but smart enough to scrape through his classes, to avoid extra parent-teacher meetings, to avoid being categorised into the not-smart group. Most nights pass by like this – at school studying till 10PM, watching the clock tick by, memorising algebraic fractions and chemical equations, his other studious classmates keeping their distance but occasionally asking for a pencil or his advice on whether they think they've gotten the right answer.

Shizuo quite likes staying behind after school. It's quiet and peaceful. Nobody harasses him or drags him into a fight and for a rare moment his eyebrows relax out of a scowl, his face immediately ten times more approachable. Almost like a normal sixteen year old boy.

But one night, in early December, while snow falls heavily outside and most other students have gone home early to avoid being caught in the worst of the blizzard, Shizuo finds his peace disturbed, by none other than Orihara Izaya.

He's never known much about the new boy, apart from he is smart and up to no good. He gives off the vibe of mystery, his red eyes narrowing as his lips click into a smirk, his head rolling backwards as his shoulders shrug. Too advanced for normal classes, Shizuo never sees him around, apart from occasionally spotting him in the library or chatting to various girls at the school gates. He reeks of danger, of potential danger to Shizuo's peace.

Shizuo heads home a little bit earlier, however it's still past 9PM and the sky is dark as the snow falls around him. The street is a five inch blanket of white and, childishly, he feels the urge to build a snowman or have a snowball fight with his little brother. A scoff leaves his lips, his hat pulled further down his head and hands are shoved deeper into his pockets. Too distracted by the beautiful snowflakes spinning down around him, he fails to notice the body laid out in the middle of the sidewalk, tripping straight over a skinny leg and tumbling to the ground with a thud.

He catches himself with his elbows and knees, knowing they'll bruise tomorrow from the force of the impact. A growl rumbles in his throat as he snaps: "Fuck,", already collecting his books which have scattered all over the icy concrete from his book bag. When he turns to the source of his fall, temper already flaring and fists curled, he blinks dumbstruck, a word caught in his throat, hands freezing around his geography textbook.

Orihara Izaya is laid in the middle of the sidewalk.

Dead.

Or at least that's how he looks. His ebony hair is matted thick with blood, one side of his face dark with purple and green bruises, lip split, nose bloody and eyes half-open, half-shut. His red and black clothes are torn to shreds, bare skin exposed to the elements and he lacks shoes, toes inevitably already fallen victim to frostbite. A shattered cell phone faithfully lies by his side and, blinking on the screen, is a number Shizuo doesn't recognise.

"Izaya-kun?" he says, confusion leaking into his voice. His grip tightens on the textbook, slowly moving it into his book bag before standing up from the ground. His trousers are soaked from the snow and the bite of the cold is unpleasant, yet Shizuo knows he has bigger problems to deal with right now. He wipes down his jacket in slow-motion, his eyes intently focused on the young boy on the ground by his feet.

Bending down, he picks up a limp wrist and checks for a pulse. Not dead. Now that he focuses, he can see a weak rise and fall of Izaya's chest.

Definitely not dead. But what happened?

"Oi, Izaya-kun. Can you hear me?" he questions, sounding braver than he feels. He knows Izaya will surely freeze to death before an ambulance arrives and he figures taking the boy to hospital isn't his best option anyway – hospitals mean questions and with his reputation, he's the guiltiest suspect. Not giving himself time to second guess, he knows what his only option is.

The walk home with Izaya slung over his back seems to take longer than normal. The blizzard increases in severity, almost blinding the blonde as he struggles to remain upright, steps faltering and swears leaving his lips when cold gusts of wind wriggle underneath his school uniform. It's really just chance that he makes it home before midnight. Key misses the lock a couple of times and fingers are too numb to hit the light switch on the first try. As his small home flickers to life around him, Shizuo takes a deep breath of warm air, slamming the front door shut behind him.

Kasuka is at a friend's house tonight, his parents out on business. He takes no care in being quiet as he thumps towards the bathroom, turns on the faucet to the highest heat and dumps Izaya's practically lifeless body onto the counter above the sink. He looks slightly more alive than when he first found him – crimson eyes are shut fully rather than half-open and his nose has stopped bleeding. His body slumps sideways when Shizuo steps back, the younger boy's spine protruding from his back and shoulders crooked from not being able to support his weight. His hair is in such a state Shizuo wonders whether he'll be able to get all the blood out or if Izaya will have to make-do with a buzz cut for a few weeks.

"Izaya-kun," he huffs. "Wake up."

Nothing.

Once the bathtub is full, Shizuo stops the tap and works on stripping the dark-haired boy's clothing. It falls away easily, considering most of it has been shredded in an animalistic fashion. Leaving him in only his underwear, he heaves the boy's body over his shoulder and straight into the bathtub, mercilessly dumping him in and stepping back to avoid getting wet. Izaya's body slouches sideways, head thumping against the porcelain surface but at least he should warm up.

Hours pass. Shizuo makes soup but ends up drinking most of it himself, feeling drowsy and irritable from the cold. A news reporter announces that all schools are cancelled tomorrow and to stay indoors. Kasuka phones to say he isn't coming home until the weather is better and he gets a similar phone call from his parents a few minutes later. He paces up and down the corridor, occasionally peeking into the bathroom, seeing Izaya still unconscious before returning to pacing. At one point he grabs some anti-septic and spills the whole bottle across the side of Izaya's face where the bad bruises are. His hair is a lost cause.

During his fifth peek into the bathroom, Izaya is awake.

He coughs frantically, gasping for breath as blood oozes out of his throat. He curls forward in the bathtub, body trembling violently as he hacks up what is either vomit or his intestines. Shizuo hesitates in the doorway, watching silently as Izaya takes deep, shuddering breaths which wrack his whole body, eyes wide as they circle the room, coming to a jerking stop when they see Shizuo stood observing him.

"Where-e am I?" he asks, voice stuttering however strangely calm given the circumstances. Shizuo wonders how many times this has happened before.

"My house. You were fuckin' blacked out in the middle of the street. I didn't think you'd appreciate a trip to A&E so I brought you here," the blonde explains calmly, taking a seat on the toilet lid, eyes never leaving those red ones. Izaya glances around himself again, gingerly pressing a hand to the side of his face, wincing from the pain. He tries to run a hand through his hair but the blood has clotted too much.

"Was my phone there?" Of all the questions Shizuo expects the boy to ask, that isn't one of them. He frowns, remembering the crumpled remains of a phone by Izaya's unconscious body. As he is about to answer, a groan cuts him off, followed by a mockingly annoyed look. "Don't tell me y-you left my phone there."

"I'm sorry I had other things on my mind," he hisses sarcastically, fists clenching and teeth grinding together. He briefly thinks he should have just left the boy to freeze before shaking it away, reminding himself he's not a monster like everyone thinks he is.

Izaya sighs, body still trembling from the cold. He pinches the bridge of his nose, looking deep in thought for a few minutes whilst the room lapses into silence around them. Shizuo begins to feel uneasy, about to get up from his seat but then Izaya raises his head, looking over to the blonde again. This time he looks a lot more tired and less cunning, more the victim rather than the villain.

"Shizu-san, could I borrow your phone please? I need to make a call."

Taking a moment to judge for an ulterior motive, Shizuo slowly nods, retrieving his phone from his blazer pocket, handing it to the shaky fingers of Izaya. A number is tapped in and Shizuo recognises it immediately from the blinking screen of Izaya's phone yet he says nothing. As the phone is lifted to Izaya's ear, he flickers his gaze to Shizuo, a helpless smile on his lips.

"You don't happen to have a razor, do you? It looks like I'm going to ha-ave to try my hand at being bald for a while, ne."

Izaya stays overnight. Shizuo gives him some privacy to talk on the phone, however it's hardly necessary because, as soon as Izaya picks up the phone, he's talking in English rather than Japanese and Shizuo can't understand a word. Shizuo brings the electric razor to Izaya and watches as he calmly shaves his blood-matted hair off, until only dark stubble remains across his head. He seems completely unfazed as it swirls around in the bathtub around him, wordlessly handing the razor back to Shizuo when he's done.

Izaya sleeps in Kasuka's room, wearing Shizuo's grey shirt and cotton shorts. They're too big for him and not warm enough but he doesn't complain, only stopping outside the door of Kasuka's room to ask Shizuo a puzzling question, which only adds to the bizarreness of the night.

"What do you dream about, Shizuo-san?" Izaya asks in a quiet voice, eyes curious. An ice-pack is pressed to the side of his face and his fingers still have a bluish tint to them. He looks sickly without any hair, reminding Shizuo of a cancer patient. Shizuo stops on his way into the bedroom, sending Izaya a bewildered look.

"Is that some sort of joke?" he asks back, seriously not in the mood. Izaya examines his face for a few seconds more, looking as though he is desperately searching for something, before he smiles a gentle smirk, shaking his head.

"Never mind. Sweet dreams, Shizu-san."

"Good…night?"

But before Izaya shuts the door, he stops once again and Shizuo can feel the hairs on his arms raising, his shoulders tensing. The look Izaya is giving him is one he's not come across before – a mixture of curiosity and hopefulness. It makes him feel on edge.

"Thank you," the dark-haired boy says simply.

"You're…welcome."

They both nod in unison and disappear behind separate doors.

Shizuo struggles to fall asleep that night, tossing and turning, the snow outside dazzling his vision and the presence of the boy in the room opposite overwhelming. He feels a feeling of someone is waiting for him, an expectation on his shoulders although he just doesn't know what. He succumbs to sleep in the late morning, around 5AM and he finds himself dreaming of Izaya.

He's in the street where he found Izaya's body earlier and it's much more coherent than Shizuo's usual jumbled dreams. The snow is crisp and the sky is bright, just like real life. Izaya's eyes glow brighter than ever and his face is free of bruises, his hair attached to his head rather than in Shizuo's bathtub. He's grinning, his face mocking like the usual Izaya he sees around school, no traces of the weak one he rescued and took home. He's sat on a window-ledge three storeys up and wearing an unfamiliar, overbearingly smart black suit.

"Shizu-san," he greets casually, swinging his feet out into the open air. "How nice of you to finally show up. I was waiting for you."

"What the fuck you playing at?" Shizuo grinds out, feeling small compared to Izaya now he is sat up above him. Plus Shizuo is dressed in PJs whilst Izaya looks like he is about to attend a business conference or a funeral. Maybe both.

"I told you sweet dreams, didn't I? What dream would be sweeter than one with me in it?" he laughs.

"Any other one," Shizuo snaps back.

"Cruel! You care for me, really. Otherwise you would have just left me on the street to freeze, for my fingers and toes to fall off, for them to come back and find me." He dramatically shudders before returning back to a cunning stance. "Plus we're going to have to get used to each other, ne. I think we might be seeing each other around a lot more often."

"What do you mean?"

Izaya clicks his fingers. Snow starts falling from the sky. He claps his hands. It stops.

Shizuo can't speak.

"That's not familiar to you?" Izaya quizzes, looking disappointed. He hops down from the window and Shizuo braces himself for the crunch of bones as he falls to the pavement but there's nothing, just a quiet noise as his shoes scuff the floor. He straightens up and saunters over to Shizuo. "You've never done that in your own dreams? Made things happen? It doesn't have to be the weather – you can make yourself fly or make skyscrapers form or ride an elephant in the middle of the ocean. Anything."

The pleading way Izaya looks at him almost makes him want to say yes but he just shakes his head, knowing his face is betraying the fear he feels.

"Oh." Izaya retreats, flustered. "I thought maybe you were…ah, it doesn't matter. You're just normal after-all, huh?"

"I don't…understand…"

Izaya snickers, spinning around in a circle with his arms thrown out. A tornado-like wind encases them and spins Shizuo around, sending him tumbling to the floor before it abruptly stops. He doesn't have chance to get up as he finds himself trapped on an island of snowy concrete with lava surrounding him, hissing and bubbling. His eyes widen and he frantically sits up, making himself as small as possible to keep away from the edges of the pavement.

"Don't worry, Shizu-san. I have no intentions of hurting you." The lava is now water and, when Shizuo dares to run his fingers through it, it's a mild-temperature. "And to you this is only a dream, yes? When you wake up in the morning, you'll think 'my, that was strange' and forget all about it. Good job school is cancelled today, by the way. We've been here for four hours so it must be around 8AM."

"But it's only been – what? Four hours? You're kidding," Shizuo says disbelievingly, easing himself up off the floor.

"Tsk, of all the things which are happening right now and you're more bothered about the time. Shizuo, what do you want most in the world? What place do you want to visit? What car do you want to drive? I can give you it all. Don't you understand? Anything is possible here – I can do anything."

Izaya loses all hope, his expression falling into a grimace as he spins away, retreating down the street. Shizuo stumbles after him.

"I thought, when I woke up in your bathtub, you were special, Shizu-chan. The piece which doesn't fit into the jigsaw." His face is harsh when he turns around, his red eyes narrowed into slits. "I guess I was wrong."

"Maybe if you weren't so fuckin' cryptic I'd be able to answer you better," Shizuo complains, feeling anger rising in him at the tone Izaya is using. As though he's some idiotic child who still thinks Santa is real and the back of his closet leads to Narnia.

"Watch closely, Shizu-san."

The world transforms every-time he blinks. First there is a tropical ocean which Shizuo recognizes from photos of Hawaii, next a snowy landscape with polar bears and seals like the Tundra, the next an Asian temple with cherry blossoms belonging to no other than Japan and finally the unmistakeable Empire State Building looming above them, the hustle of the New York City streets loud in his ears. Izaya remains stood in front of him in each location, his eyes narrowed in concentration as though he's thinking hard.

Then they're back in the snowy street.

"It's not only locations either. I wouldn't move if I were you."

There's a loud crash and, despite Izaya's warning, Shizuo jumps, turning around to see a building completely collapsed across the road behind him, just a pile of rubble now. A vending machine rolls towards him at high speed and he dodges it narrowly, almost knocking into Izaya in the attempt to escape. This only causes the dark-haired boy to laugh as a car without a driver zooms past them down the street.

"Hungry?"

A chocolate bar and a soda is on the snow in front of the blonde.

"Tired?"

A bed is there too, along with Shizuo's favorite bedsheets and toy from childhood.

"Pretty cool, huh?"

"How…how do you do that?" Shizuo enquires, his eyes comically wide. Izaya laughs, continuing his journey down the street and Shizuo once again follows after him.

"I wish I could tell you. But I can't. I thought you were part of this world." Snow begins to fall from the sky again, cascading around them. It tangles in Izaya's long eyelashes and on the shoulders of the smart suit. "You're not. That's not your fault, of course, but nevertheless it's a mistake on my behalf and undoubtedly I'll be punished for it. Really, I'm just mad at myself, so don't worry yourself too much, Shizu-san. Just go back to beating up gangs in back-alleys and raging riot around Ikebukuro. That's what you do best, huh?"

If he had a cigarette right now, he'd crunch it into the floor. "What did you just say, damn flea? Who are you to say –"

"Oh hush. Maybe you're worse tempered when you sleep too long." Izaya stops walking away from him and turns around, folding his arms over his chest. He has a defeated expression and Shizuo abruptly realizes the bruises are back and his hair is gone and he's not so cunning any more. "Maybe it's time Shizu-san woke up, yes?"

"Hey, wait a second –"

But Izaya is already gone and the world around him is crumbling. He panics but there's nowhere to run and just as it seems a building will inevitably collapse on him and crush him to death –

He's awake.