Falling
People fear death even more than pain. It's strange that they fear death. Life hurts a lot more than death. At the point of death, the pain is over.
- Jim Morrison
Because he doesn't want to forget the sound and texture of those words, Izaya finds himself on the edge of a sky-high building, bellowing them out to the night.
They taste raw in his mouth, and the wind is too eager to snatch up each syllable and scatter them across the multitude of stores and humans below. He wishes to extend his arms outward, to gather them up and reassemble them into speech once again, but discovers that, as grainy sand slips through clenched fists, words slip through clenched lips.
So, instead, he chooses to hook one foot around the steel railing of the roof and dangle the other over bottomless air, wishing the thoughts and the wind away from his stinging eyes. The light laughter and chattering of people underneath him brings those scarlet irises to the ground, to the blackened, stained pavement dozens of floors away.
Izaya blinks, feeling gravity press onto his back and whispering lecherous words of 'fall' and 'jump' and 'suicide.' For a brief second, the offer is tempting, and his scattered mind imagines free-falling through the dark night, only stopping once he touches the earth in a collision of blood and broken bones. But a maniac grin is quickly plastered on and the hesitation is gone.
No, he doesn't want to experience the feeling of falling. It seems too sudden and unexpected, too absolute. There is no control in falling, only an endless loop of wind and terror clawing up from the ground to snatch one's life away. No dozen-choice paths to choose from and escape to, only one set and straightforward road down.
And that is something Izaya loathes dearly.
There always has to be control in his life – him controlling people, people controlling other people through his guidance. Like any divine being, he plays their lives for them, leading them here and there on a carefully arranged chessboard set. Each move is predetermined, with no route of freedom or a backdoor out from his game.
Izaya smiles as the wind blows his hair back. Of course, he isn't a player. As much as he enjoys watching his lovely humans destroy themselves for his entertainment, he enjoys exclusion from the mayhem even more. There is no fun when one is involved in the gruesome battles of Ikebukuro; only pain and blood and roundabout chasings from street corner to street corner that he both loves and hates and distinguishes in a once-cheerful, elated demeanor as–
Shizu-chan.
The black-haired man closes his eyes as the onset of that name brings words to his mouth again.
Yes, of course. Shizu-chan's chasing is an exception. The wild, deranged ex-bartender is always an exception to every little thing in Izaya's life.
And he despises him for it.
Despises the forcefulness, the screaming voice directed at him, the pattern of vending machine, stop sign, park bench, vending machine, stop sign that goes flying into the air, the nonstop chases throughout Ikebukuro that one could compare to a tape being rewound and played over and over again. He despises how much he has come to expect this daily routine and yet be unable to control such an unexpected character like Shizuo.
Izaya grimaces at the sudden bitter taste of blood pooling down his lips, teeth clenched in an effort to maintain calm.
Really, how could he have let himself be so caught up in Shizu-chan's games?
It is maddening, careless, oh-so uncharacteristic of him. Those many years ago, he should have just killed the man; instead, he let the running and the chasing drag on until even his mind was as prepared as his limbs to skim through the roads of Ikebukuro, intent on putting distance between him and Shizuo. Now his lungs and heart rush with an adrenaline of their own, beyond his control, every time he catches sight of the familiar blond-haired, sunglass-clad man.
But then...then the words came.
And what was said today, he cannot fathom as to why his breath constricts each time he remembers...
"Izaya, let's stop."
There was no screaming, no dismembered poles or machines, no pulsing vein coupled with insults of 'flea'. Instead, the sentence was calm and cold. It had tasted raw in the coolness of a December morning and still tastes as raw, hours later, in the stillness of a December night. He could have done nothing to stop the retreating figure that incited so many intense emotions in him, and he probably wouldn't have done so anyway. Izaya knows that it was the last time he will ever see Shizuo again.
For tonight, and only tonight, he lets himself lose control and flings back his head, releasing an enraged cry of frustration. The wind brings tears to his eyes, and the previously clear sight of the blood-stained pavement shifts into a blur. Tomorrow, he knows there will be nothing but peace and quiet in the city of Ikebukuro; no game of cat and mouse or uprootings of buildings and machinery.
The crazed smile returns in a flash, and the remaining foot hooked onto the railing slackens in one slow movement. Although he wants to keep the sound and texture of those words, the unexpected and thrilling experiences with Shizuo, in him forever, Izaya knows that it is impossible. Even with all the control he has managed over others, the most important one to him still remains uncontrollable, unattainable.
So, tonight, he decides that it's okay to fall.
"Izaya, let's stop."
"Shizu-chan, let's not," he whispers softly and releases his hold on the iron rail.
There is only a glimpse of the pavement below, a mixture of gray and black and dark red, before the wind and speed rushes up to greet him.
Izaya smiles.
If he closes his eyes hard enough, falling down almost feels like running away.
Fin.
A/N: FJDKLAFJALJ FAIL. :\ I've had this plot bunny in my head for awhile now, but it turned out all wrong and screwy and jumbled up and I didn't know what to do so I just decided to wing it since I'm in love with Shizaya (and Izuo) and I wanted to write a fic to contribute to this awesome fandom and somehow it turned into this...this Izaya suicide thing! Dx I'm sorry. T~T
Also, the quote above probably doesn't have much to do with the fic... I just thought it was appropriate (and there's some logical reasoning behind this somewhere, somewhere! D;), but I'll let you guys interpret it in your own way x'D
Reviews and critiques are much love. ^^