Firsts pairing, Shizaya!
Enjoy!
Shizuo looked down at his right hand, feeling the lingering heat left by Izaya's skin. Too hot. Way too hot.
It had felt weird, even enough to pierce the haze in Shizuo's vision, enough to dissipate his anger. He looked around him and found a puddle of blood at his feet, mixed with dirt and snow. His vending machine had hit, after all. He had wanted them to hit the target, of course, but they never did. And now one had found the target... and he felt nausea rising for some reason.
A collection of deformed and discarded products scattered all over. Medications and cup noodles.
Shizuo remembered the form darting away from him. It wasn't taunting, it wasn't like a flea. It was... it wasn't like Izaya at all.
Shizuo adjusted his untidy scarf, weighing his options. Now that he wasn't seeing red, the kindness in him threatens to break out, with his conscience banging the wall in his mind.
And to be honest, his walls aren't so thick, he was too honest most of the time.
So, his garments now presentable, he head over to the nearest convenience store.
He walked past the shelves lined with cup noodles, and head for something else.
The doorway was open when Shizuo arrived. He was glad that he wouldn't have to break the expensive door. Buying food and basic medicine is something, replacing a door is another entirely.
The metallic taste was in the air when Shizuo came in, and Shizuo wasn't surprised, the pool of blood couldn't be more noticeable.
He stopped there and looked at Izaya's form lying on the floor, and hadn't thought of how lucky he was to have slid down and not propped up by the wall all this time. If so, the already oxygen deprived brain without enough blood pressure to carry all the way up would not have survived.
Yet Shizuo wasn't a doctor, and he noticed only the most obvious signs; Izaya was bleeding a whole lot more than he would have liked; He was shivering, and the temperature of the room is no different from outside, only without the wind; Izaya was burning, he could almost feel the heat even standing a few feet away; Izaya was scarcely breathing anymore.
At the moment, the Beast of Ikebukuro was scared out of his mind.
He had broken a lot of people, and even killed some. But of all those nameless faces, this is the first time he followed up on his actions and check the body. The ruin he'd caused.
It bothered him more than he ever would admit.
He took a deep breath, calmed himself as best he could, and called Celty, then Shinra. Neither picked up.
He settled the things he'd brought down on the floor, moved Izaya like a limp doll onto the sofa inside, cranked up the heater all the way, and pumped Izaya's chest to prompt the man to breath properly again.
All he did was spilling more blood from the wound on his shoulder, though, and despite a panic creeping up on him, Shizuo shifted his attention to the wound.
He was familiar with broken bones, dislocated shoulder, bruises. He was /not/ familiar with bleeding wounds. His own skin had not often ripped, after all.
He did as best he could, clean, disinfect it, and tied the gash tightly. It was a highly awkward affair, but he was relieved to find the blood stemmed.
Izaya had a dislocated shoulder right under the wound. Shizuo had not dared move it now unless the bleeding start all over again. But he knew how much it hurt to do it later when consciousness was there.
And that made him hesitate.
The shivering was stopping, though, the bleeding took care of for now, but Izaya wasn't breathing properly.
Shizuo looked at Izaya's pale face, and made a decision.
He knelt, tipped the raven's head up, pinched his nose, and put his lips on those pale ones. He blew, and Izaya's lungs expanded. He blew again, several times in rhythm, and soon the raven seemed alive again.
It was warm, too warm for the blond man. He could feel his his face lit up, and blamed it on the high temperature coming from the raven, and the entirely overly warm heater.
When he finished he stumbled back a few paces before getting a control of himself again.
Izaya started to pant, oxygen flowing to his brain, and the said brain demanding more. Shizuo found a thick blanket for him, put a cool-aid on his head, then head over to the kitchen. He had brought ingredients— one ought to have real food when they're ill, even the flea— and Shizuo started cooking.
Few people know he could cook. But he lives alone, and he was always short on money because of the compensation costs. His cooking wasn't novel, but at least it's edible.
When the meal was ready and Shizuo was squinting at the medicine labels, he heard a suppressed groan, a few moments' pause, then a shuffling, then there was the sound of teeth grinding against each other, loudly. Another suppressed grunt, then a flop.
Shizuo had'n been in a position to lose consciousness then wake up after fights, but he found he could understand Izaya's impulse completely.
It would seem that Izaya had took care of his own dislocated shoulder.
Shizuo didn't know what to do. He wasn't sure if he should give Izaya some privacy (He sure was still regretting giving Izaya a CPR right now) or should he get the food and medicine out for him.
The harsh breathing of the other was audible from an entire room over. Shizuo knew how long it took for the pain of that to subside, not to mention he has this supernatural strength. It would be hard on the raven.
"Shizu-chan, you can come out, you know?"
The blond started a little. The informant shouldn't know he was here, should he?
"Your presence was all over the place, damn it. And I'm not a protozoan like you, I know no one else was aware of my pathetic... condition"
Shizuo took the tray he prepared, sighed, and tried to imagine he was bringing his homemade meal to Kasuka.
Izaya was holding his shoulder, lying face up on the sofa with his head tilted a bit to the side, face red from the fever, hair matted, but not much sweat. He was still breathing rather heavily.
And against any judgement, Shizuo was captivated.
It wasn't until Izaya looked up and smirked that Shizuo was free from the brief enchantment. The raven's eyes scanned him and the tray, those red orbs widening, and Shizuo seized the moment to taunt back.
"Not smart enough to guess I'd cook a meal instead of cup noodles? Or aren't you a good enough person to believe in generosity?"
Izaya just pursed his lips in silence. And Shizuo knew that the remark had stung.
The informant shut down then, silent and barely eating, struggling to build his walls back up.
Shizuo felt like he was watching a man fighting to plug a dam.
So he left.
Because he knows, if the water doesn't go somewhere else, he's going to drown himself inside.
That everyone deserves some space to cry.
The winter afternoon greeted him outside, embraced him as he trudged back towards home.
Maybe he'd made the wrong decision. Maybe company and kindness was what the other had needed. Another hand to help him from the tears threatening to drown him.
He guess he would never know now.