You are never alone in Ikebukuro.
No matter how vast and complicated the city peaks, you aren't the only one who wanders the streets. A collection of humans swarm the boulevards, save for that legend that zooms through your vision in a blink of an eye. People young and old, ordinary and eccentric, innocent and mischievous walk the pavements. Each and every one of them is gliding down their own path, their destinations mingling on the thread of fate or road of destiny.
If anyone knows about pulling these tangled red strings, it's Izaya Orihara.
He will weave into another's thread of fate today.
Mikado Ryuugamine tiredly walks out of the school building with a dejected scowl, having to stay in the classroom several moments after the release bell rang. He was required to attend some class representative meeting, administrating certain tasks as well. His two close friends, Masaomi and Anri, had already vanished for home without a trace.
Thanks for waiting up. He thought bitterly as he looked up at the sky, which was tarnished with ominously dreary clouds. Then the heavens granted one raindrop to descend, then a few more. Then more. And several more.
Until the once lucid morning was a tempestuous afternoon.
"Aww, crap! Didn't bring an umbrella…" Oh well. Screw it. Mikado dashed down the crosswalk, his disheveled hair becoming misty from the rain.
Somewhere nearby, Izaya was doing one of his favorite things. Which was people watching, as he sat on a park bench. That ever amused smirk curled up upon his handsome face. He had not a care in the world, becoming so drenched.
Look at them. Scattering and panicking, all because of a little drizzle. A mere drizzle was incorrect, for it was downpour that was cascading from above. He chuckled and snickered, until that kid caught his eye. His expression became pensive for an instant, keeping his eyes focused on Mikado, before he grinned playfully.
Izaya yawned and laughed quietly to himself, rising up from where he sat. Shoving a fist in his pocket, he dug out his cell phone. Being watchful not to lose sight of the boy, he quickly tapped a text message.
Sent.
Waiting at the crowded crosswalk, waiting for the traffic to clear out a bit, Mikado used his book bag as a shield from the pelting droplets. While a thunder roared, a tune chimed out of Mikado's pocket.
Mikado flipped out his cell to find that he had received an email.
Peek-a-boo.
From: Kanra
To: Tanaka Taro
4:36 PM 5/15/10
His head tilted in puzzlement, rereading the text again.
"What the—"
"I see you!"
From behind, Mikado felt a warm jacket draped over his head and someone's arms encircling him in a tight embrace. He gave a yelp and flinched at the surprise contact, although he recognized that voice…
"I-Izaya-san…?"
A low chuckle tickled his ears, as those slender arms pulled Mikado snug against Izaya's chest. A blush had bloomed upon his face.
"Mikado-kun~. You seem so frightened by my presence." The man sniggered, nuzzling against Mikado's feathery black locks of hair. "Or perhaps it is because of the thunder and lightning? Huhuhu. I had no idea those were one of your fears. Maybe my snooping skills are losing their luster."
"N-no, of course it wasn't because of that! I-I'm…You just shocked me, is all."
Again, that man chuckled pleasantly, holding the boy close.
"Oh? Oh, I know. I would have been shocked if I had just now found out an aspect about you that I didn't already know."
Izaya allowed Mikado some space, but still had an arm slung over his shoulders, disallowing him from going anywhere. He halfheartedly scanned through the mist of the rain.
"I don't see your friends around here…"
"They went home without me."
At those words, that Cheshire Cat smile only grew and Izaya's eyes narrowed in intrigue.
"Oh! Well, now this is a predicament!" Izaya covered his mouth in mock concern, his voice becoming acerbically dramatic.
Mikado just simply starred up at the odd grown-up shyly, blinking away the droplets that gathered at his eyelashes.
"It is becoming rather dark and there is a storm brewing…"
Izaya clung onto the boy, ascending an arm to catch and feel the falling raindrops in the palm of his hand. He glanced up at the conjuring monsoon, closing his eyes to experience the ruthless sprinkles caressing his face. Dark, wily eyes darted upon Mikado once again.
"It is way too dangerous to walk home alone, wouldn't you agree? Tell you what, I'll escort you home." Izaya beamed roguishly, grasping Mikado's hands in his.
"I…I guess I wouldn't mind—"
Mikado hadn't the chance to formulate his words thoroughly, his mind still contemplating if Izaya's offer was clandestine trickery or genuine generosity. Izaya giddily scurried down the streets and sidewalks, holding onto the shaken adolescent's hand firmly. The cloudburst cackled and flashed around them.
Somewhere faraway, a disgruntled blonde man dressed as a bartender was fuming.
Eventually, the two young men arrived at an upscale apartment. This is when Mikado raised an eyebrow skeptically and finally tore his hand out of Izaya's clutches.
This was not where Mikado lived…
He should have said something when they were zipping through alleyways, avoiding flying appliances, and skimming lanes that were unfamiliar to him. Mikado just figured that Izaya knew the exact coordinates, but for the hell of it, decided to take a twisted detour.
Izaya leant up against the entrance, his arms crossing over his chest and a smug smirk adorning his face. He eyed Mikado from head to toe, scrutinizing. It was as if he was anticipating Mikado's reaction.
"…Izaya-san, where are we?"
Drinking up that adorable pout on Mikado's face, Izaya burst into a fit of aberrant giggles. Simultaneously, Mikado appeared to be bewildered and miffed at the explosion of laughter.
When the chortles ceased, Izaya murmured devilishly, "We're home." before lifting Mikado off his feet and slinging the boy over his shoulder. He struggled of course, but with little success. Izaya gave another arrogant laugh, patting Mikado's behind very delicately.
"My home, that is. I said I will escort you home, but I never specified whose home. Heh."
They reached to Izaya's floor, Izaya never liberating Mikado until they were inside his flat, with the door locked to prevent any vain attempts of escaping.
Mikado took this opportunity to scope his new surroundings.
So, this is where Izaya the informant lived…
Mikado ineptly remained where he stood, saturated to the bone and shivering with all kinds of chills that frosted within him. He realized why he wasn't as frigid, gaping at the floppy sleeves of a jacket that was a bit baggy on him. He had been wearing Izaya's jacket.
The true possessor of the parka fiddled with the fluffy hood, his russet eyes glazing over the boy with covetousness.
"Mmm. You actually look good like that. Wearing my jacket; it looks good on you…All wet. Soaked."
Subtly, the jacket was tugged off of Mikado's thin shoulders. His sapphire eyes ensnared with that evocative gaze, not even realizing that Izaya was caressing his cheek with a switchblade. Playful words slipped out of a warped simper.
"You would look even better without it. Without anything. Wearing…nothing."
Mikado felt his whole face go warm with embarrassment at such suggestive suggestions. That malevolent smirk grew, those wicked eyes becoming sinister slits. And the cool touch of the blade traced a single crimson line down such smooth, pale skin. Izaya teased his index finger over the wound, the tip of his digit darkening with blood.
"Since you are so positively drenched, I think we should get you out of those clothes. You know. So you…don't catch a cold."
It was so obvious, so obvious that Izaya really could care less about Mikado's health at that moment. Mirth apparent in his tone. Sarcastically, he was concerned.
"Mikado-kun…when you first moved to this city...Kida-kun gave you a few pointers, did he not?"
Mikado weakly nodded, wondering where all this was leading to.
"Yes. He did."
A tidbit of advice from his best friend suddenly ricocheted in his mind.
Izaya Orihara?
This guy's really dangerous, so don't go near him.
"Well, then…here is tip I suppose he forgot to lend to you."
It was then that Mikado's regret finally sunk deeply into the pit of his stomach, wincing in pain as he was shoved against the wall. Pinned.
Both of his skinny wrists could be effortlessly constricted by Izaya's grasp, using only one hand to bind the pair. The other hand crawled up inside Mikado's shirt, grazing his skin. Such a cold, malicious touch caused him to elicit a solicitous shudder.
Izaya vexed any distance between them, imploring his ardent breath hotly into Mikado's ear. Amid a tweak to a nipple and a warm tongue stroking along his earlobe, there was a cryptically charming whisper.
"Never trust a stranger."