Bruised
A/N: I haven't been updating anything for a long time, so this is to somewhat make-up for it.
Warnings: Possible OoC-ness, violence, sexual situations
Disclaimer: I do not own Durarara, if I do; this would be an OTP.
Her lips were bruised.
She wasn't in a fight.
She didn't trip on her own legs.
She didn't come running into a glass door.
She wasn't slammed against hard concrete.
Her lips were just—bruised.
Days after, there is a bruise on her neck.
Weeks after, there are bruises on her arms and legs.
She doesn't complain about these bruises.
She barely comments on them.
Maybe she doesn't even notice them.
One day she does.
She is staring at the mirror; clad scantily in only her purple undergarments and a sheer, white robe. Tattoos of blossoming purple buds appear all over her body.
She reminisces for each one.
A bruise on her lower lip.
A bruise on her left forearm.
A bruise on her right shoulder.
A bruise on her lower back.
A bruise on either side on her hip.
A bruise on her left inner thigh.
A bruise on her right calf.
She was definitely bruised.
He rudely grabbed her forearm and sent her slamming into him.
He gripped at her shoulder and whispered mocking words or sincerity.
He kissed and nipped at her lips in a pace that would make a thunderstorm come to a halt.
He pinned her to his chest with a hand on her back.
He pulled her by the leg when she tried to get away.
He spread her legs and palmed her thighs.
He held onto her hips tight when she screamed out.
She sighed.
"No need to fight it, Namie-chan."
He haunts her.
And almost magically, he appears behind her; searching her reflected eyes.
She could feel his depressing warmth; she shuddered and pulled the robe closer in an attempt for security.
He stepped closer and met each of her hands on her shoulders with his.
She could almost see a faint smile.
Her eyes widened when moist, warm skin met her cheek—his lips.
His eyes were shut and she could almost compare him to an innocent child—almost.
They stood still in the dim sunset, radiating warmth upon warmth on each other.
And right there, she could hear a whisper.
"I'm sorry."
He spins her and lets his lips tenderly caress hers.
"I'm sorry."
He pulls her closer than her sheer robe.
"I'm sorry."
Her eyelashes flutter slowly along his cheekbone.
"I know, Izaya, I know."
It doesn't let itself be heard.
"I'm sorry."
A/N: Well, that was sort of melodramatic of me. This is short as in really short. Oh well, the holiday season is over. How was yours? Mine was short really short. And in 2 days time, I'll be taking the 3rd quarterly exams. I haven't even studied, lol, so lazy. . .
Review please?