What I Want

Izaya was being chased into the front entrance of Raijin Academy, shoes clicking against tile, squeaking around every sharp turn, leaving marks on the floor for Shizuo to follow. Students accustomed to this daily occurrence no longer looked on with anything more than a passive interest, because the outcome never changed.

Izaya never got caught.

It was as the two teens were ascending the second story stairs that it happened. A group of girls huddled together at the top were the only witnesses to the blond brute growling with unbridled fury as he lunged himself at the raven-haired boy, promising a slow death and baring his teeth.

"Ew," one of them whispered behind her hand, cringing a little.

"He's scary."

"Needs to calm down, don't you think?"

"Dangerous…"

The comments were trivial, something Izaya would've paid no heed to if it weren't for the quick flash of shame that darkened his pursuer's face and slowed his momentum.

It was such a quick, brief reaction, but it was enough to get the wheels of his mind turning. There were few ways to destroy a monster like Shizuo Heiwajima, but if anyone were to accomplish such a feat, it would be Izaya Orihara.

Which brought him to his present situation…

The late afternoon sun was merciless upon his head, fueling his impatience for an answer.

The girl before him looked up, mocha eyes confused. "What?"

Izaya withheld a sigh in an effort to appear amiable. Forcing a smile that rendered his request casual, and therefore not strange or ridiculous, he repeated, "I want you to date Shizuo Heiwajima." Not feeling this was enough, he added, "Of course I'll compensate you for your efforts, ne."

Money wasn't an issue. He didn't care what it cost. It had to be this girl. Standing just above five feet, she was unarguably pretty with shoulder-length chestnut hair, a small nose, heart-shaped mouth, and gentle almond eyes. Personally, her chest wasn't to his standards, but he didn't think Shizuo cared about details like that. As long as she was cute and innocent, at least appearance-wise, she was perfect.

And it really was just appearance-wise. She had a reputation for being quite greedy, as was evident by the sort of men she targeted. Some would call her a gold-digger, or whatever sort of label that came with the stigma of wanting lots of money. Izaya didn't care. All he knew was that she was the easiest sort of human to manipulate, and that's all that mattered.

She crossed her arms, considering his offer. "How long is this supposed to go on for?"

"As long as it takes for him to become enamored with you. It shouldn't be difficult. Shizu-chan is extremely deprived of female attention."

She looked displeased. "Is he ugly or something?"

Izaya's smile fell into the vicinity of a sneer. "Does it matter?"

She shrugged, glancing away. "Not really."

"Then we have a deal, ne?" He offered his hand, the gesture professional and final.

She took it, shaking it softly. "And all I have to do is make him like me and then break up with him, right? No kissing or anything?"

"Ne, Mari-chan. I wouldn't ask the most despicable of humans to do something so disgusting."

Shizuo sighed, pulling himself from his desk as the final bell announced the end of the day. He was drowsy, something to do with the spring weather and being bored as hell. He wasn't in a huge rush to get out, and he followed behind the crowd at a respectable distance. Unobtrusive and quiet, simply observing the excitement going on around him as girls huddled together, sharing with each other the chocolates they were planning to gift some lucky guys.

Valentine's Day had never been something he'd been included in, and today was no different. It just pissed him off. He'd long since abandoned any sort of hope that some girl would show an iota of interest in him. It didn't matter anymore.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice the girl ahead and ended up knocking her aside. Whatever she was holding dropped to the floor, and Shizuo paused to pick it up.

It was a tiny bag of homemade chocolates, wrapped in cellophane and labeled with a holographic heart that read in plain text: Orihara-kun.

He stared at it, wondering how much effort this girl put into making these chocolates, how much tenderness and affection were encased in each tiny candy. And to think that it was all to be wasted on the flea.

Containing the impulse to crush the chocolates and toss them like a missile through the window, Shizuo handed them back to the girl, issuing a gruff, "Sorry," before moving on.

He was no one's damn hero; it wasn't his job to save these stupid girls from the heartbreak they'd experience when Izaya took their gifts, toyed with their feelings, and then destroyed their self-worth, all for the sake of his twisted entertainment.

Even if he tried, it's not like they'd listen anyway. These girls were ten times more afraid of him than they were that fuckin' pretty-faced flea.

The locker area was near vacant when he arrived, and he took refuge in the momentary silence. Opening his locker, his eyes followed the tiny folded paper that flipped out and onto his shoes.

With careful, suspicious fingers he unfolded it, reading once, twice, three times its contents before narrowing his eyes in distrust.

[I'd like to speak with you. Meet me behind the gym after school.]

Each word was written with soft, light strokes that curled and curved in ways that were plainly feminine, which immediately gave Shizuo reason to suspect the invitation even more.

Girls did not write him notes. Especially not ones with pretty writing like this.

No, this reeked of Izaya.

Crumbling the paper and tossing it away, Shizuo slammed closed his locker and turned in the direction of the gym where he was going to find the flea and beat the shit out of him.

Leaning against the gym's outer wall, Mari waited quietly. She'd been standing there for close to a half hour and her feet were starting to hurt. She wanted to go home, and would've seriously considered it if Izaya weren't paying her so much to go out with whoever this Shizuo was.

As was normal in situations where one was bored, her imagination started to get the better of her, and she tried drawing a mental image of what this guy was gonna be like. Izaya didn't say much about him other than that he hated him and that the guy was a monster. She didn't know what that was supposed to mean, exactly. Was he hideously deformed? Mean? Maybe both. In any case, she was told that he was blond and smoked like a chimney, so she assumed that he was at least a punk. Definitely had to have a bad attitude.

However, the blond that stepped into her line of sight a half-hour later definitely wasn't what she was expecting. No, not at all.

He kind of just stood there, looking at her, like he couldn't believe what he was seeing, before shaking his head and approaching, the look of raw fury that had been present on his face dissipating within an instant to make way for a charming shade of pink.

"Hey, uh…" Stopping awkwardly before her, he avoided eye contact as he asked, "Have you seen a guy around here? About this tall," he lifted a hand to his hairline, "Black hair, real skinny?"

A small smile lifted her lips, and she tried to lean into his line of sight, but he kept avoiding her. "Nope, sorry."

"Oh." Honey-hued eyes finally dared a glance at her, and that pink deepened beneath golden skin. "Alright. Never mind."

As he turned away, she reached out and pinched his shirtsleeve, halting him. Immediately he stiffened. "I wanted to talk to you, Heiwajima-kun."

Shizuo's mind sort of drew an abrupt blank, flat lining under the shock. Mechanically he turned to face her. "Huh?"

Thin, perfect brows lowered over full-lashed eyes. "Didn't you get my note?"

It was a unique sensation, feeling overwhelmingly flustered and tremendously suspicious all at the same time. But there was no way Shizuo was about to accept that this girl, this incredibly cute girl, had seriously asked him out here. Not after seventeen years of having girls like her avoiding the likes of him. There was just no way.

"Did he ask you to do this?" Was his immediate response, as it was the only question that made any sort of sense.

"Who?"

"Izaya." Just saying the flea's name aloud ushered forth a resurgence of that formidable anger, and he clenched his teeth to hold it back so as not to scare the girl. Glancing around, his eyes scanned his surroundings, scrutinizing every tree, bush, and building for any sign that the bastard was lurking behind it, laughing his skinny ass off.

"Orihara-kun?" She asked with a slight shake of her head, feigning the perfect amount of confusion.

Shizuo studied her expression for any sign that she might be hiding something, but couldn't hold her gaze longer than a few seconds, once again besieged with embarrassment. "Forget it."

Releasing his shirtsleeve, she coyly smiled behind a curled hand. "You're a little awkward, aren't you?"

Pocketing his hands, he sighed, trying to quell his nerves. "Look, if this is about wanting me to talk to Shinra for you, I should let you know that I don't do that matchmaker shit, so—"

"That's not it, Heiwajima-kun."

The blond paused, not sure what he was supposed to glean from this situation. If she wasn't here to tease him, and she wasn't here to ask him for help talking to Shinra, then…

"Did I break something?" It wouldn't be the first time he was forced to pay for damaging another student's personal property. He never did it on purpose. It just sort of happened. Chasing Izaya, he sort of forgot to pay attention to what exactly he used as artillery against the louse; cell phones, textbooks, desks…

It took a practiced actress to procure on the spot the sort of blush that bloomed on soft, pale skin. Mari glanced shyly at her shoes, reinforcing her role as a shy, innocent schoolgirl. "No, it's nothing like that. I, um…" Reaching into her schoolbag, she pulled out a small, carefully wrapped package.

It was with a sort of numbed surprise that Shizuo watched her hold the gift towards him, her small hand trembling quietly.

"I made these for you, Heiwajima-kun."

It took a second for Shizuo to regain control of his body, because for a moment he felt pulled out of it, like there was no way this could be real. "This really isn't some joke?"

Mocha eyes lifted to meet his, unwavering and resolute. "I'm serious."

Somehow, he believed her. With hesitant, shy fingers he accepted the chocolates, noticing the way she relaxed, a small smile curling pouty, cherry lips.

He stared at the gift, studying the way she'd carefully written his name in that same pretty handwriting that was on the note. There were so many things he could say, wanted to say, but the only thing he could muster was an inelegant, "Why?"

"Huh?"

"Why me?" It just didn't make any sense. Girls were terrified of him. They cringed when he walked by, skirted around him nervously in the halls, whispered horror stories behind their hands…

Her heart did a funny little jump as that look of flustered incredulity returned to his face. This really wasn't the type of guy she'd been expecting from what Izaya had told her. She was starting to wonder if Izaya had ever even looked at the guy. There was no way this was the same 'monster' that had the raven-haired man shaking with such bitter disdain. She sort of regretted the fact that she was going to end up hurting him in the end.

"Well, I…" her face grew incredibly red, expression stressed, before finally surrendering to a soft sigh. "There are a lot of reasons."

Uneasily scratching his temple, he looked away, discomfited with how warm his face was feeling. "I, uh, don't really date."

"Oh." She grew quiet, clearly disappointed.

Feeling a little guilty, he clarified. "It's just, there's a lot of shit I have to deal with."

She nodded, her smile absent. "I see."

Izaya had warned her that this might be his reaction, and so she was prepared. All he needed was a little convincing.

Lifting her eyes to meet his, she asked, "Would one date be asking too much?"

Damn it. Withholding his frustration, Shizuo swallowed the sigh threatening to fall from his tobacco-deprived lips as he considered the situation.

His entire life he'd never gone out with a girl. Hell, he couldn't really remember even having much of a crush on anyone in particular. All of that shit was supposed to happen in high school, right? Part of the whole experience of growing up and whatever.

It was just his whole damn life since entering Raijin indisputably revolved around Izaya Orihara. He couldn't piss in the damn bathroom without checking over his shoulder that the flea wasn't there, taking pictures like some creepy-ass pervert, threatening blackmail.

And when he found out, because he would, there'd be no stop to the amount of harassment this girl would have to endure.

And then there was his whole monster-strength to deal with. This girl, she looked so fragile. Fuckin' bird bones. He wasn't sure if he had the sort of control required to even be near someone as delicate as her.

All of that was already a lot to consider, but none of it was even the main issue.

The real problem, well…

Like he said, he was dealing with a lot of shit.

Meeting her candy-sweet gaze, Shizuo sighed. Seventeen years without a girlfriend was pretty pathetic, and it wasn't like he'd get a chance like this again. Even he wasn't stupid enough to turn his back on a rare stroke of luck. Why the hell shouldn't something good happen for him once in a while?

"Can I think about it?"

It was a quarter after four when Izaya's cell chimed from his coat pocket. Pulling it out, he flipped it open, only after confirming the identity of the caller.

"Ne, Mari-chan, I expect you have good news?" He asked, smirking into the receiver as he turned the corner off of a busy Ikebukuro street and onto a less crowded one.

"He said he'll think about it," she replied, bluntly.

Izaya paused. "He didn't say 'yes'?"

He could almost hear her rolling her eyes. "No, he said he'll think about it. I don't know, maybe I'm not his type or something."

Izaya's eyes narrowed, annoyed with her tone, and that his plan hadn't gone accordingly all thanks to Shizuo's infuriatingly knack for being as unpredictable as ever. "You're his type," he assured her. "Shizu-chan just doesn't know how to behave around girls. Consider yourself a pioneer."

"Lucky me," she said, all sorts of unenthused.

Continuing on his projected path towards a crowded neighborhood, Izaya asked, voice demanding retribution, "You did put effort into it? Because if I find that you spoke to him like you speak to me, consider our deal finished, Mari-chan."

The sigh on the other end was exasperated. "I know how to work a guy over, Izaya."

"Orihara-san, please," he corrected coolly. "And keep in mind Shizu-chan has never dated before. Don't be a slut, ne?"

Her offense was evident in the length of pause. "You know, I don't know either of you that well, but you seem a whole lot more of a disgusting monster than he does, Orihara-san."

"Hn," Izaya's smile turned derisive. "Telling me I'm worse than Shizu-chan. That really is a horrible insult, Mari-chan. I should warn you to watch your mouth."

"Whatever. It's not like you're paying me to be your friend."

"I would never be so stupid."

"Jerk," she mumbled, before finally asking. "Alright, so what do you want me to do? Just wait until he gives me an answer or something?"

"That's exactly what you'll do."

His phone closed with a satisfying snap, and he pocketed it beside his flick blade, glad that he no longer had to be exposed to the torture that was Mari-chan. Honestly, why was it always the cute girls that had the most despicable personalities? If Shizu-chan had somehow been acute enough to detect Mari's true persona, then it was no wonder he'd turned her down.

He'd probably deny it, but Izaya had a good idea that Shizuo had standards that were impossible to find in this day-and-age. There was something adorably depressing about the fact that the protozoan probably got off on the idea of cuddling up with some cute, innocent girl who was saving herself for marriage and flushed crimson at the mere thought of holding his hand.

Pathetic.

Making one last turn onto a street that shouldn't be as familiar as it was, Izaya made his way towards a certain home.

He needed to have a talk with his Shizu-chan.

The sun had sunk low enough that it was no longer visible through the crowded skyline of Ikebukuro. Rusty rays of sunlight clung to the sides of buildings, as if the sky itself was not yet ready for the day to be over.

Shizuo Heiwajima didn't share that sentiment, part of him resenting today because it had been different. He was a being that appreciated simplicity, took comfort in the usual. So what the hell was he supposed to do now?

It wasn't like tomorrow he could just wake up and pretend like nothing had happened.

This present he was holding, this small package of heart-shaped chocolates, was as much a burden as it was a gift.

Her name was Mari. A year below him, just turned sixteen. And she liked him.

What the hell was he supposed to do?

He didn't like thinking about tomorrow, the future. It didn't suit him. Sort of depressed him, and pissed him off. All that shit about choosing your own destiny, deciding how your life plays out; he didn't buy into it. It was decided years ago that a normal life wasn't in the cards for him. Screw what he wanted. And now the universe was mocking him with this girl.

He should've just been honest. What the fuck was he doing leading her on like that? There was nothing to discuss, nothing to think about. He knew exactly how all of it would eventually pan out.

He'd end up hurting her, and hating himself for it.

And it was all that fuckin' flea's fault.

"You're late, Shizu-chan."

That voice, light, teasing, unmistakable and haunting, pulled Shizuo's attention away from the dirty sidewalk.

Izaya stood before him, leaning casually against the outer gate to the Heiwajima residence. Sunlight, now a seductive blood-orange, highlighted the teasing curve of a smirk, exaggerated raven shadows, and intensified the omnipresent tension as wine-colored eyes met hazel. The air between the two buzzed, invigorated, the atmosphere sharpening its focus, the sun their personal spotlight, the world their stage.

"The hell you doing here?"

"Waiting for you, ne?"

Shizuo narrowed his eyes, every twitch of his fingers warning danger.

And as usual, Izaya responded the way he shouldn't, drawing himself closer, reveling in the raw power threatening murder in that monstrous, leonine-gaze. "I have something for you." And his eyes flashed playfully upwards. "Shizu-chan likes chocolate, ne?"

Shizuo glanced at the bagoverflowing with homemade chocolates in Izaya's hand, and gritted his teeth. "I don't want your leftovers, flea."

Shrugging, Izaya forced a pout, setting the bag next to the garbage. "Won't Shizu-chan accept my feelings?"

The blond glanced around, making sure there weren't witnesses, as Izaya pulled himself even closer, snaking a slender hand up his arm, smirk widening.

"It must be hard being so disgusting," he murmured, running the back of his knuckles against Shizuo's wrist, raising his eyes beneath black lashes. And then he smiled, the expression pleased, malicious. "Tell me, Shizu-chan. Were you lonely?"

Something in his chest tightened uncomfortably in response to the touch, and he stepped away from it, moving his eyes to the ground. "Touch me again and I'll fuckin' kill you."

"Will you?" Izaya challenged, eyes glinting mischievously. "With your cute little brother watching?"

Shizuo's attention moved towards his house, searching the door and every window for Kasuka. Distracted, unease delaying his reflexes, he was one second too late noticing Izaya had snatched the chocolates from his hand. "Oi!" He shouted, reaching out to grab them, growling furiously as Izaya, always one step ahead, ducked and danced out of his reach. The point of a blade bit into the front of his chest, and he was forced to pause, snarling murder.

Izaya smirked at him, holding the bag of chocolates up to inspect them. "To Heiwajima-kun, love Mari," he read aloud, smirk transforming into the most sickening of smiles. "How cute. She even drew a little heart."

"Give it back, Izaya," Shizuo demanded, knocking the hand pressing the knife to his chest away, effectively slashing open his shirt and giving himself a nice cut.

Blood flowed freely, crimson tainting the crisp white of his shirt, dampening his chest. He ignored it, the fresh sting of pain an afterthought, his attention wholly on the raven-haired teen before him.

The arm he managed to wrap his hand around was thin, just like the rest of the flea, and he was somewhat surprised by how firm the muscle that hardened in resistance beneath his palm felt as he pulled him closer.

Surprise wavered in that crimson gaze, Izaya obviously underestimating Shizuo's speed and his ability to overtake. The blond was ready this time, and he caught the other hand that was poised to slash open more of his skin, holding it firmly above their heads, the two caught in a ridiculous, violent embrace that was sure to incite the concern of any curious neighbors.

"You're so rough, Shizu-chan," Izaya said, close enough to the blond that his breath fell against the other's face with every word. "Is Mari-chan aware of how violent you are?"

"Shut up," Shizuo growled, tightening his hold on Izaya's arms.

Izaya smiled, pressing himself closer until their chests brushed, feeling Shizuo's blood seeping wet and warm into the front of his shirt. "You're not doing either of us any favors, Shizu-chan. What if someone sees us? They're surely to get the wrong idea, ne? Then we'll never be able to escape those rumors."

"The fuck are you talking about, flea?"

"You haven't heard?" Looking directly into warm, caramel eyes, Izaya murmured, dropping his voice to a seductive low, "The entire school thinks we're fucking."

Something plummeted into Shizuo's gut, a weight heavy and dark. Staring into cherry-tainted eyes, he searched for any sign that the flea knew something he shouldn't. That no one should.

His heartbeat began to pick up, jumpstarting to an alarming pace, adrenaline rushing through his veins, anxiety clouding his ability to think, to speak.

No, Izaya couldn't know. He was just saying shit to piss him off. Shit that was hitting way too close to the mark.

"Bullshit," he replied, voice a low rumble, struggling to keep calm.

"It's true," Izaya lied. "They think our fighting is nothing but a front to mask our lust for each other. Disgusting, ne?"

Apparently the shock had affected his strength, loosening his fingers, his ability to hold onto anything, including any sense of calm and rationale.

Izaya easily pulled his arms from captivity, only to wind them carelessly around Shizuo's shoulders, pulling himself closer to trace warm lips against the blond's ear. "As if I'd ever let a beast like you fuck me."

But Shizuo was barely listening, the sound of Izaya's voice almost entirely deafened by the thudding of his own heartbeat in his ears.

That lithe body pressed further against him, slender arms and long fingers brushing his shoulders, his back, the smell of expensive shampoo, something delicate but masculine flooding his senses.

It was starting, and he could do little to stop it.

Heat rushed into his face, burning beneath his skin, blood scorching and hot. It was so damn hot.

Fuck.

Izaya hesitated, sensing that something was wrong, that the tenseness he felt in those strong shoulders wasn't anger, but something else, although he had no idea what that could be. He was encroaching on dangerous territory being this close to Shizuo. It was a rare opportunity indeed, considering the few times he'd been this close in the past it hadn't been for longer than a second before the beast was thrashing to crush his skull into the pavement.

He really should stop, for it was only a matter of time before the protozoan imploded, likely destroying himself and half the neighborhood in the wake of his fury. However, Izaya was having too much fun with this game to simply stop, as was usually the case when around Shizuo.

And this really was a wonderful opportunity that was presented before him. So many past curiosities were being answered as he pressed himself closer into that warm, hard body, lifted a hand into that bleached hair.

Soft, he thought, a little surprised by how much like silk the strands of gold felt between his fingers.

"They can't be blamed, ne? Shizu-chan has never shown interest in a girl before, it's really no wonder everyone thinks you're, well, not gay, per se, just desperate to stick your cock in my ass."

"That's not—" The word caught in Shizuo's throat, choked to silence.

"Hn?" Izaya finally pulled back to look at Shizuo, momentarily stunned, utterly mystified by the expression on the blond's face. He was so flushed, floundering in clear embarrassment.

Get it the fuck together, Shizuo commanded silently, urging his body to cease its trembling, for his breathing to steady, his heartbeat to slow. Stop. Please god, just fucking stop.

But it just wasn't going to happen. Izaya was way too damn close.

"Get the fuck away from me," he finally managed to growl, hoping to god that Izaya mistook his odd behavior as anger. Anything. Anything than what it really was.

Thankfully Izaya wasn't suicidal, and the flea took Shizuo's warning and extricated himself, stepping back and returning his blade to his pocket. "No need to get feisty, ne."

Breathe.

It sounded ridiculous, but this was so much easier in the winter when just breathing hurt, the air sharp, each inhale a blade against his brain, his chest. He could concentrate on that, focus on that pain. It was easy.

But this damn spring weather was so warm, the world suspended in a state of calm, the atmosphere carrying with it the subtle scent of blossoming flowers and tasty foods.

And it was so much harder to distract himself, the weather betraying him, taunting him as the soft breeze blew raven strands of hair across that teasing, feline-pretty gaze. The heady heat from the setting sun giving that smooth, pale skin a delicate flush.

That infuriating smirk found its place once more on that mouth.

That mouth.

Shizuo moved his gaze back to the sidewalk. Fuckin' breathe.

"Is Shizu-chan not curious as to why I'm bringing this up?"

"Don't fuckin' care," the blond bit out.

Izaya shrugged, not that Shizuo was looking at him anymore to notice. "Well, I do. It's annoying. I have a reputation, ne. I can't have my admirers thinking I'm sucking your—"

Izaya was just quick enough to dodge the fist that plummeted towards his face, just barely missing his cheek to crash into the wall of stone guarding the small yard of Shizuo's home.

The most thrilled smile lit up his face, the black-haired teen exhilarated. This was always his favorite time of day, seeing Shizuo lose it.

"Stop saying that shit. I don't give a fuck what people think of me, and I really don't give a fuck what they think of you."

"So mean," Izaya sighed, shaking his head in mock upset. "I'm just trying to be diplomatic about this. I suppose it's my own fault for even considering it possible to have a mature conversation with a protozoan like Shizu-chan."

Seeing that the more he spoke, the harder Shizuo's fists clenched, Izaya took a precautionary step back before continuing.

"I won't do anything to cute little Mari-chan," Izaya suddenly promised.

Shizuo finally looked at him, the broken skin on his knuckles the temporary reprieve he was searching for. "What?"

"If you decide to go out with her, I won't interfere," Izaya expounded. "It's a win-win, ne? No one will question your sexuality, and my reputation will remain intact." He silently patted himself on the back for improvising such an ingenious little lie.

Shizuo remained quiet as he considered the offer.

He honestly didn't care what others thought about him or his sexuality. It's not like it affected his life in any sort of way. People would still continue to avoid him, girls would just have one more reason to.

No, what was important was that this thing, all this shit he was dealing with, it needed to stop.

He just couldn't deal with it anymore. He was tired. Tired of wanting something he wasn't supposed to, something he would never be able to touch.

Mari-chan, maybe she was the salve he needed. The perfect distraction.

Because that's all anyone else could ever be. Not a solution, not an alternative, simply a distraction, someone that could temporarily help him forget.

With a resigned sigh, Shizuo lifted his gaze back to Izaya's, the heaviness he felt whenever he looked at the skinny louse returning with a vengeance that dragged him down, made him feel exhausted.

The sun was nearly gone, the streetlights beginning to flicker on as the stars above slowly began to expose themselves against the blanket of darkness.

Up above the moon cast its glow on the world, on Ikebukuro, on this empty street, its light lazily sweeping over everything with dim disinterest, most of its attention focused on illuminating pale skin, and sharp, crafted features.

His eyes fell once more to that mouth, the graceful curve of a slender neck, following the outline of lean shoulders, and a lithe frame, before moving back to eyes that were watching him with quiet anticipation, almond-shaped and dominant.

The most he'd ever be allowed was to feel the back of his knuckles against that face, the force of his anger wrapping rigid fingers against that frame. Never gentle, never soft, never pleasant.

This was his reality, and he wanted to forget it.

"Alright," he agreed, turning towards his home. "Fine."

He ignored whatever it was Izaya had to say, not wanting to hear him sound pleased, not wanting to see him satisfied.

Fate could not be changed, his life was already mapped out in permanent fucking marker. This feeling was always going to be there, sitting like a rock in his gut, making him feel like shit, and he was just going to have to deal with it.

He just wanted to forget about it for a little while. Just wanted to not hate everything for one second.

Mari-chan liked him, and maybe he could come to like her too.

It was never going to be the same, never as deep-rooted, and substantial a feeling, but it'd be something.

Just something.

He needed that.

Author's Note: Hello! Thank you for reading! I hope you've enjoyed the first chapter of what is going to be my very first Shizaya multi-chapter fic. And I promise it IS a Shizaya fanfic. Not a Shizuo/OC.

Also, I should warn you all now: this story will contain LOTS of graphic sex (Shizaya sex), so if that offends you, turn away! I am a pervert, and I'm not afraid to show it. (There will also be fluff and flirting and blood and fighting and all that lovely stuff.)

Please review! All comments are appreciated!

Until next update!

~Merry