DO NOT OWN DRRR! AND ALL THAT JAZZ! :3
Until we meet again
Shizuo woke up the next morning; his shoulders protesting along with his neck against the change of position as he rolled on his back.
His head beaded a steady pulse – either from the sleeping position or the booze from last night, maybe even both.
The room wasn't bright like yesterday – which he was very thankful for. He did not want to deal with the eventual pain in his eyes as well. He put a hand on his forehead and gave it a semi massage – hoping it would ease the pulsating. He then proceeded to just lie there, not bothered by anything. (Tom was kind enough to give him this day off.)
Sure, he remembered everything from his birthday party – he didn't get that smashed, maybe a bit tipsy – but he couldn't shake of the feeling of something missing.
Just like yesterday.
After a good while of just gazing at and through his ceiling, mind blank, he turned his gaze to the coffee table for some reason.
Where he noticed a small box, wrapped up as a gift. It even had a ribbon.
Mind still in standby, he reached out for it, rather clumsily, and now proceeded to look at it as if it were the seven world wonders. (Yes, indeed, he was a bit lost that morning.)
He propped himself on one of his elbows while observing the gift, when he noticed a note out of the corner of his eyes. He set the box on his lap while reaching for the note and reading it.
All the numbness crashed as he snapped awake from the standby mode rather violently upon reading the note that said only two (three) words:
Happy Birthday, Shizuo.
The moment he lied his mocha eyes on the small, neat handwriting he felt his stomach clench – and he knew it wasn't the alcohol speaking. The sensation of a two ton truck hitting him would probably describe the feeling more closely – coz he knew what that felt like, first handedly.
Yes, he recognized it – the handwriting. No mistake there – he'd seen it countless times before in high school, like on that essay about the human subconscious nature (why he even bothered to remember that was beyond him) – the words were written by Izaya.
Yet, what he didn't recognize was the way he had spoken to him through that simple message.
Shizuo
...Izaya...
The raven haired menace Orihara Izaya – better known as flea – had named him Shizu-chan on the day they first officially met, and stubbornly refused to call him anything else – which drove the blonde mad. (This way or that...)
Even when he would become serious for a second and not goof around like he was three years old, Izaya would address him as Shizu-chan although in a different tone.
Never was it Shizuo.
So why now?
However; even if he did have an answer to that question, a few more questions emerged.
What the heck? – For all Shizuo knew from experience, this small box could very well be the same thing the huge horse the Trojan's got from the Greeks was – the safest would be to throw it away after burning it.
Why? – It's not every day that your arch rival and sworn person to kill comes around while you're sleeping and leaves you a friggin' birthday present and a friggin' note that comes along with it...
It's not like you did the same thing...ever...he shouldn't even care. That's what arch enemies are for, right?
When? – why didn't you hear him? The door was five feet away – and he wasn't usually the silent type.
Where was he?
Where was he? Yesterday wasn't the first day he hadn't seen him. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen him for a good while now.
Shizuo wasn't the type to know everything about everything – that possessiveness belonged to Izaya alone – but he wasn't too fond of being kept in the dark. Not hearing a word made him draw some mind /nerves wrecking conclusions, especially when it came to Izaya – again, Izaya's credit. Izaya was very fond of messing with people, he being his favorite toy to despise. This could very well be one of those situations.
Yet, his gut told him the usual teasing and taunting weren't at work here – which made him slightly...worried. That revelation drew another question:
Why wasn't he furiously grumbling over a pile of ash that was once the box he still had on his lap along with the message he still stared at and on his way to kill the flea?
Why was he feeling as if he just stumbled into something he wasn't prepared for?
A/N: Yes, I apologize, I'm gonna tease just one more time.
Don't worry, I won't keep you in the dark too long - the mystery about the present will be unraveled tomorrow :3
Thank you for all the reviews and guesses - * spoils a bit * - I was thinking at first to make it something one of the awesome reviewers wrote down, but then I got an inspirational boost. What it first was, I'll write down tomorrow. :3
Thank you very much again, you are all wonderful, and you may now proceed to shoot me for teasing. :3