Author's Note: Thank you all for reading~ We decided to post the next chapter sooner than the planned date, which is this Saturday, so we hope you will enjoy it.
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The Other Author's Note: Feel free to tell us if Shizuo and Izaya are being out of character - criticism is fair game, as long as it points out flaws in how we write!
Not Here, Not Now.
There's wasn't a lot of things Orihara Izaya hated. Despite him being a man of taste, with what his multiple expensive apartments, decadent choice of food, and technology of the highest caliber, he claimed to love everything. Specifically, he claimed to love all humans with every fiber of his being, as evidenced by his somewhat manic ramblings and favorite hobby being people-watching.
His secretary Yagiri Namie would attest to that.
She would also attest to his somewhat manic ramblings of Izaya's present company, the informant raving about his hatred for him and how much of an unpredictable monster he was.
There wasn't a lot of things Izaya hated, yet a certain someone quite evidently topped that list. Something Izaya decided to tack on to the end was 'jumping off of a truck moving over 100 mph wrapped in the arms of his fated enemy as it rained.'
When Shizuo hit the road, he winced in pain. It seemed like there were some intense drugs pumped into his body; as he noted that before he didn't even notice bullets and shrugged off various cars and trucks hitting him at high speeds.
He grit his teeth as they rolled over and Shizuo's back was slammed against the concrete over, and over, and over, and over, each time only somewhat slowing down in speed and intensity.
Eventually, they were put to a stop. In the middle of the road. With Shizuo keeping a tight and painful grip on Izaya. With Shizuo staring directly at Izaya's eyes, a deep frown on his face.
Despite himself, the informant's eyes were clenched shut. The bouncing around had made his post-tranquilizer headache reach a crescendo he could hardly ignore. Blood and adrenaline hummed in his ears, even as the world had grown still.
Several moments passed before Izaya became aware of the pain induced by Shizuo's hold, and his eyes slid open, lips parting in the start of a smooth, witty comment. However, he was also made exceedingly mindful of the proximity.
Izaya's eyebrows were lifted dubiously as rustic brown clashed with hazel. His mouth closed, lips forming a thin line, and he grumbled, "What are you looking at?"
In retrospect, there was a repertoire of scathing statements he could have said, but Izaya blamed the pain numbing his back and the adrenaline and headache clouding his judgement. It is only a temporary lapse; it will pass, he reasoned.
Shizuo's grip on Izaya went weak, enough to let Izaya get off and stand up, and strong enough to not let him fall on his face.
"A flea. Now get off, get me up, and let's find some shelter. You're gonna get sick."
He accompanied this with a slight push to the right, an indication that he should get off.
Izaya licked his dry lips once before getting to his feet slowly, as to keep the dizziness at bay. The movement wasn't as graceful as he would have liked it to be. Despite Shizuo breaking his fall quite effectively, being jostled around. having bruising hands hold him in place, and entertaining icy water heavying his clothes took a toll on his body. "Ah, yes. Monsters don't get sick, after all."
They should get off the road before the truck comes rolling back. Who knew when it would explode?
"Shut the hell up."
Izaya brushed his coat off, as if he was wiping away any imprint Shizuo left on him. "Shizu-chan should play nice if he expects me to help him stand and escape the risk of being trampled by a truck." He stretched his arms out above him, joints popping. "Though you do have a lot of experience getting run over, ne? Perhaps I should leave you be ..." He trailed off, anticipating the other's reaction.
"Play nice? What the fuck do you think I'm gonna do, huh? I'm not gonna play nice for a fucking louse like you. I said it before and I'll say it again, fuck you Izaya. I'd rather get run over and explode under the truck than help you." A vein was throbbing on Shizuo's forehead.
Izaya's self-satisfied smile only widened at the outburst. He dropped his arms, shaking his hands out like a conductor instructing his orchestra. "Lecturing the one who is currently holding the cards? Besides, Shizu-chan, haven't you ever stopped to wonder why I always managed to set you off with that one word? It's only because you yourself are subconsciously aware of how much of a monster you are, even though you don't outrightly acknowledge it. You even distance yourself from everyone, constantly worry about them finding out how much of a monster you are.
"And so you pretend. That's why I'm going to spend every chance I get reminding you of what you are, up until your monstrous lungs take their last breath. You will die, and I will be the one to end you. Your face will be warped with that delicious, animalistic rage, your thoughts so contorted that you're reduced to mindless instinct and incoherency, stripped down to your hideous core. I will stand above you as I always have been and be the hero vanquishing the demon." Izaya walked slowly to the other, stopping short of Shizuo's arm's reach. He looked down his nose at him, handsome face twisted into a sneer. "The only reason I'm not doing so now is because I don't dirty my hands with downed dogs."
Shizuo was furious. He was bulging with anger, and was just about ready to grab at Izaya's throat to choke him out - to strangle the life out of him. Izaya was a bastard at heart, Shizuo knew that. He was someone you couldn't trust with anything, and the flea didn't trust Shizuo either.
Even in all his anger, frustration, subconscious madness inside him, Shizuo couldn't help but sigh.
"Tch. If you die, the world's gonna be happy. So at least the kidnapper did some fuckin' favour to the world." Shizuo stared at Izaya, glaring eyes burning with anger meeting Izaya's own.
Izaya bristled, spine arching like a cat whose fur had been rubbed the wrong way. His contemptuous smile fell, making way for a frown. He knew Shizuo was susceptible to spouting asinine drivel, but it seemed the beast always found some way to completely destroy his expectations.
Ah, but the look in his monster's eyes was enough for Izaya's grin to reappear. Whatever Shizuo said was to be tuned out, as white noise should.
His voice was quiet, patronizing, and scathing; it was as if each word that left his lips was sharpened with a whetstone, meant to cut and stab and serrate. "Shizu-chan, I told you before - you can't die here, you know. You will perish at the stage I set for you, at my own hands."
He gestured around them, at the dark forest, the ceaseless rain, the wet sack made from a blanket discarded off the side from trash. "Not in some …" His words trailed off. There was something down the road that caught at Izaya's eyes as they skated over, demanding attention; it was whatever object the truck had jumped over.
Izaya's held tilted in rumination, eyes squinting, but he didn't have much time to ponder over what it could be when headlights appeared down the road, turning the rain to sparkling shards of glass.
Shizuo frowned.
"The fuck are you gonna do now, huh? I'll break your arm if you touch me."
"Shizu-chan wouldn't do that. You're too weak to do so." Izaya's mind was busy at work, drawing up the effects of either decision. It was too early to let Shizu-chan die now, yet the brute's thickheadness would link Izaya helping him to a confession that Izaya needed him.
Let him think of this however he likes. It isn't every day you find a monster so fascinating in its chaos.
The truck was nearing. As it did so, a ringing had replaced the steady ticking of the bombs, as if an alarm were going off. Izaya moved quickly, crouching down to pull the other up onto his back and break for the trees. As his feet toed past asphalt and onto grass, he slipped on the slick street and tripped underneath Shizuo's weight, slamming into a tree. He bit back on a wheeze as the air was knocked out of him, ignoring the sensation of his teeth cutting into his tongue.
Behind him, beyond the warmth of Shizuo's body pinning his, there was a sound of tires screeching. He had enough time to see past the splinters in his vision and the pale fabric of Shizuo's shirt to notice the truck was careening to the side. As it hit the object in the road, the vehicle went airborne, and it slammed into the ground in a scream of metal rending, mere meters away from where Shizuo and Izaya were right now.
For a surreal moment, there was nothing but the cacophonous pitter-patter of rain and whisper of his own soft breathing, the feeling of wood and water against his face and a body against his back, moonlight breaking in between the clouds to highlight the scene of destruction before them.
Then, all at once, the night erupted in starburst of red.
Once the ringing in his ears had dropped to a barely perceptible hum, Izaya whipped around to face Shizuo, holding him up by his shoulders. The brute's bleached hair hung in his eyes as damp threads, and his head dipped down to his chest limply.
Behind him, heat blasted outward in waves, the distinctive crackle of fire lapping away at whatever got in its destructive path. Embers flickered by them, like fairies carried by the wind, only to darken and be doused by droplets of rain. There was a groan of metal as the truck's roof collapsed, ash swirling across the ground and settling down like snow. Further on, the unnamed object that interested him so, a shapeless mass against the road.
It was like a camera refocusing on an object, the rest of the world smeared into a blur. Izaya's gaze had settled on Shizuo's. The blond's skin had whitened, eyelashes fanned across his cheek, eyes closed. The glare of the fire touched his hair, turning it to white-gold, as washed-out as the man's skin.
The now water-smeared kanji for 'monster' seemed almost - almost - unfitting.
No monster should look so drained and vulnerable.
He dismissed the thought almost as instantly as it had formed.
"Shizu-chan?"
The nickname was quiet, a picture of calmness not unlike Izaya's expression.
As the silence dragged on, he raised his eyebrows, unimpressed. To think I'd ever get the chance to see Shizu-chan with such a slack expression. If only I had some way to document this …
"Shizu-chan, you don't have the right to look like this, you know. At least when I don't have any suitable filming equipment."
What Izaya assumed to be Shizuo's unconscious body grunted, pale face gritting its teeth, presumably in pain.
"My name is Heiwajima Shizuo, flea," he growled out, the edge taken off by the murmur of tiredness, before going limp again - presumably to sleep.
What could only have been soft snores began to sound from the man.
"... Really, now?"
Izaya wasn't in any hurry to settle him onto the ground - laying him chest down so that he could get a look at the others back. The bartender shirt and vest had been shredded by shrapnel, blood oozing out of multiple cuts. It was only then Izaya noticed something black inked along Shizuo's skin from in between the fraying threads.
He ripped away whatever remained of the fabric, brushing the scraps aside … and stiffened at what he saw.
Continue to play right into our hands, Shinjuku's informant.
His fingers clenched at the shirt's remnants in his hand. He could imagine the taunting voice that came along with that message, left just for him.
Not the time for this.
The metal lodged in his back would do worse coming out than going in. Izaya shook his head, retreating from Shizuo's side to retrieve the items he had , the blanket was only mildly ripped and soggy; it wouldn't break once he lifted it. He gathered it in his arms, turning halfway back to Shizuo.
With the light from the fire, he could finally make out what the object down the road was.
A corpse.
The heat from the wreckage undulated in waves, the raindrops evaporating against the ground closest to it. In the midst of it all stood a man in a fur-lined quietly laughing to himself. Abruptly, the inane giggles died out, replaced by a soft grunt as the brunette lifted an unconscious man in a ripped bartender suit onto his back.
The camera zoomed in on the odd pair, trying to capture a final glimpse of them before they disappeared into the cover of trees.