Disclaimer: I own neither Durarara! or the song mentioned
This one was 'I Dreamed A Dream' by Susan Boyle
Don't judge me...
I'll update this regularly as they don't take long and it would be nice for you guys to read when I'm super late on chapter updates or if you just generally like them haha :)
I'd appreciate your kudos and comments so, feel free to leave some!
No... He thought, his head snapping from side to side, eyes frantically searching for a ghost - a fleeting phantom he could never quite catch, fingertips just falling short of his vison.
"No..." He mumbled the tears welling in his eyes and stinging like acid, attacking as if to say that no, monster's like himself shouldn't be crying, they shouldn't shed tears, the lump forming in his throat as if to say that a monster's voice should ever sound so weak and so vulnerable, that Shizuo Heiwajima should not be in a state even remotely similar to this one.
And for what? Why is he in this predicament, a bystander of he city might wonder. They may even frown at the thought of a great man such as Heiwajima - one who has thrown vending machines and bone-breaking punches as if it were as natural as breathing - kneeling on dirty living room carpet, tuffs of blonde hair falling from lithe shaking fingers clawing at his own scalp. Why is he trembling? Why is he breaking into a hoarse sob?
"Flea..." He whispered, crumpling backwards so his that back leaned against a cracked wall.
Ah, the flea.
That's why the Fortissimo of Ikebukuro has been reduced to this pathetic human, this debris of the powerful man that was once more than a rumour akin to the Headless Rider. Because of the informant that had tortured him since the very first day they met. Because of his enemy who had proven to harbour feelings of interest, something more than a passionate hate that had taken quite the toll on the unfortunate blonde, infatuating him as time passed. And the raven had taken advantage of that, smirking until he himself had to come to terms with the alien feeling weighing heavily on his chest.
They were young, unafraid and uncomprehending of what true pain was, of what it meant to lose. They yelled, fought, loved, chased, argued, revelled in each others presence and for once, their hopes were high, their lives worth living if they could live it together. Happiness was not too far away from what they felt though, could it last forever? Too good to be true, there had to be some repercussion hiding among the light of the stars that seemed to shine so bright, blindingly so, giving a cover of anonymity to any underlying consequences from the change in their relationship.
And so the aftermath of this change of events could still be felt today, sending after-shock waves through Shizuo's body, ripping the scattered pieces of his heart sinking into an abyss. It could be felt in the way his voice broke after screaming the raven's name, loud and agonised, not the way they used to, the opposite of how he used to yell it in a provoke rage or murmur it like a prayer, a holy chant.
Izaya was gone, and no amount of screaming hopelessly to the dead would bring him back, you cannot wake a lost soul, no matter how many times the mantra fell from his mouth, no matter how many tears streamed down his face, no matter how many times his smirking face appeared in Shizuo's dreams.
Only God knows why Shizuo hadn't given up the day he'd watched Izaya's lifeless body thrown into an encasing box of wood and buried under layers of dirt. Only God and what little of his heart he had left. He dreamed that someday he'd see that face again, that enraging, beautiful face. That he would walk into their shared apartment like he was royalty, throwing an off-hand insult to see if Shizuo's would take the teasing bait.
But he never would. They had lived no longer and no less than a year together. And yet he dreamed that they would live together for the rest of their lives, he dreamed that Izaya would somehow rise from his coffin.
But there are dreams that cannot be, he would realise when he woke up screaming after seeing the raven die before his eyes over and over again. It was as if the memory was stuck on replay, each time he closed his eyes, those pleading maroon orbs stared at him, begging for his help before they dulled, closing, never to re-open. It was a personal hell he'd never so much as imagined he would have the misfortune of having of having to reside in.
And so he went on chasing the fleeting smirk of his long-gone lover until the day he lay down, his eye closing and last tears falling as he slipped away, someplace where Izaya was waiting for him, smiling as he took the blonde's hand into his own welcoming him into foreign place and away from the life that had killed the dream he'd so innocently dreamed.