October 23, 2011

Prompt: Shizuo is marrying some woman he's been dating for a while now (Can be an original character/some character from a different anime, even).
He invites everyone he knows to the wedding. Including Izaya.
AND THEN ONE SIDED SHIZAYA HAPPENS.
I wanna see Izaya losing it. I wanna see ANGST. I wanna see Izaya sadder than he's ever been.

Bonus:
-Izaya going to Shiki for comfort (And tries to hide the fact that he's freaking sad and wants to cry 24/7)
-Izaya asking Shiki to come with him to the wedding cause he can't go alone and there's no way in hell that he's missing it.
-Angst. Like, maximum level of ANGST. ANGST ANGST ANGST.

Disclaimer: I do not own Durarara!

One and Only, Right? Chapter 3:


Izaya had no idea how long he was out for.

All he remembered was that when he left his apartment in Shinjuku, the sun was just starting to set. Now, as he aimlessly walked the streets of Ikebukuro, the moon already claimed its throne high up in the dark sky.

Unknowingly, his legs brought him to the corner of a sushi place he routinely visited; seeing it tonight made reality hurt so much more…that place, full of vivid memories…full of times when…

"Sushi good!"

Simon, like usual, stood outside Russia Sushi passing out flyers and talking in his choppy Japanese, attempting to lure in customers.

"Oh! I-Za-Ya! Eat sushi to-dAY?" A smile adorned his face.

"Ah, Simon." Izaya considered dinner very briefly. "No, not today. I'll see you next time." He began to turn away, when the large Russian man suddenly reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder.

"Not eat no good! Eat sushi good for you!" His forehead creased slightly as he stared right into Izaya's eyes. When he spoke, he had switched to Russian. "Izaya, you look even skinnier than usual. Are you not eating?"

Izaya stared back silently.

"Come in and eat a little bit." The strong hand squeezed Izaya's bony shoulder.

"Alright, alright, Simon." Izaya shifted his weight, balancing himself better as Simon removed his hand, an even bigger smile covering his face.

"Good! Eat sushi good for you!" Reverted to Japanese again.

As Izaya let himself be eagerly ushered into the restaurant, his expression dropped for a split second, revealing just how exhausted and conflicted he was.

"Oh, Izaya! Welcome!"

"Hey Dennis." He pulled a chair out in front of the bar and carefully slipped into his seat.

"The usual?" The sushi chef looked sideways at Izaya while he wiped his hand to prepare the next order.

The informant leaned back in his chair and sighed, "Yes, ootoro please."

"Right on it."

Sounds of soft chattering of the other costumers mixed with the clinks from the kitchen filled Izaya's ears. He paid no attention, yet his mind settled on no one train of thought.

He didn't know how much time passed until the sudden hush throughout the shop broke the comforting atmosphere, pulling Izaya attention back to reality.

He tensed in his seat, paralyzed in his position when he caught a glimpse of a familiar bartender suit and Simon greeted heartily, "Shi-Zu-O! You two eating sushi to-dAY? Good, good! Come eat sushi!" He bent down and pushed away the awning.

Izaya stared at the entryway, eyes growing in terror and disbelief.

Locks of blind hair dipped down and into the sushi bar. Then came the bartender outfit—the fitted white shirt, the bowtie, the black slacks. As the man straightened, Izaya finally saw those sunglasses with the bluish tint.

His heart contracted laboriously when he saw the lean body step out from behind the blonde ex-bartender. Maybe, just maybe, he hoped that he could see Shizuo alone—without that girl next to him, constantly reminding the raven of the horrible pain.

Then, maybe Shizuo would pay attention to him again.

Maybe Shizuo would have eyes only for him again.

Maybe…they'll go back to how it was.

Finally, Shizuo lifted his head, eyes landing immediately on his arch nemesis, body stiffening. The blond Russian beauty beside him stood perfectly still, expression blank, indifferent.

He would have known earlier than that…

The entire population within the store froze, afraid that even a miniscule amount of movement was enough to detonate the ticking bomb.

"Izaya," Shizuo drawled, attempting to control his instinct to pounce on the small, agile man.

"Shizu-chan," Izaya said in acknowledgement. He successfully appeared nonchalant, pompous as usual.

His perfect mask that never betrayed him was loyally doing its duty.

Simon smoothly placed himself as a barrier between the two, stepping in front of the debt collector, cheerfully—the mirth of the big Russian was incongruous in this situation—suggesting potential delectable dishes Shizuo and his partner might want to try that night.

Shizuo absentmindedly answered Simon and asked his fiancée if she knew what she wanted to eat. The whole time, his eyes thwarted towards the general direction of where Izaya sat, body tense, but still more relaxed than a few seconds ago.

He would have known I was here even from a mile away…

The clack of the traditional-looking sushi plate on the table—Izaya had unconsciously leaned his body on it—grabbed his attention.

"Here you go: tuna." Dennis's voice was carefree and undisturbed.

Instinctively, Izaya exclaimed in ecstasy, "Ah! Ootoro! Thank you, Dennis." He appeared to be completely engrossed in pulling the chopsticks out of their paper slips, but all of his senses tuned in towards his left—where Shizuo stood. Out of the corner of his eye, he focused on the outline of the tall debt collector, trying to catch every movement, to decipher anything that might give Izaya a deeper insight of that man who controlled his whole being.

Unnoticeable to anyone, Izaya stiffened when he felt Shizuo pass by behind him, with Simon taking the lead and Shizuo trailing in the back, eyes hidden behind his sunglasses and hands stuffed in the pockets of his pants.

When Shizuo was at Izaya's immediate right, he halted in his steps.

Damn it, no.

"Vorona,"—Izaya's heart contracted—"Go on ahead. I'll meet you in there."

The tall blonde reached out and slipped the Russian woman's hand into his, giving it a light squeeze before letting go.

No.

Vorona's eyes did not waver, yet as they stared into Shizuo's, the unspoken understanding between the two was obvious.

The both of you...hurry up and get away from me.

No more.

I don't want to see this.

"Yes. I'll wait for you." She turned and followed Simon into one of the dining rooms.

The hushed silence of the restaurant had been replaced by suppressed mumbled, the customers having remembered their manners and tried in vain to be discreet as they cautiously glimpsed at the two monsters of Ikebukuro.

"Izaya."

Said man did not reply, 'blissfully' savoring the taste of ootoro in his mouth.

"I-za-ya," Shizuo repeated, this time with more force as he pushed one hand against the table, half-leaning over it.

Stop it.

Carelessly rolling his eyes over to the blonde, Izaya spoke after deliberately chewing, then swallowing, a mouthful of the fatty tuna. "Why, what is it, Shizu-chan?"

The latter clenched and unclenched his fist, taking a few breaths to control his irrepressible temper whenever the conniving informant was within his radius.

By the time his brain was finally capable of moving his lips to form a sentence, Izaya had already plucked another slice of the glistening red fish meat off the plate and brought it to his lips, expression of complete delight.

"Izaya, come out. I need to speak with you."

"Ay, Shizu-chan. As you can tell, I'm enjoying my dinner right now~" His tongue slid out under the ootoro, glazed with a beautiful shine.

Shizuo's eyebrow twitched. He looked over at Izaya's plate, and considering that the scrawny man was almost finished, he grudgingly yanked out the chair next to Izaya—a loud scraping sound pierced through the room as the chair protested against the hardwood floor—and sat down harshly.

Izaya refused to acknowledge Shizuo's presence and obstinate persistence. To everyone in the restaurant, Izaya was clearly ignoring the blonde.

To Izaya, he was doing nothing but be overly conscious of the conspicuous man beside him.

Six minutes passed as Shizuo unhappily sat beside Izaya and stared at nothing in particular, the ghost of a crease haunting the blonde's forehead.

After what seemed like an eternity—both feeling like it was hell for wholly different reasons—Izaya set his chopsticks down and hummed, "Ah, ootoro, how I love you."

Hah…what if I didn't say that first part?

Immediately, Shizuo straightened and slid to the edge of the side of his seat. "Okay, flea, let's go."

"What's the hurry, Shizu-chan?" Izaya reached for his wallet as Dennis placed the tray with the bill in front of him. "Now that I don't have to worry about being maimed by unexpected flying objects—exceedingly dangerous, must I say;" He placed the exact amount of yen down into the tray and handed it to Dennis; "I would very much like to take my time here in dear Ikebukuro," he smirked.

Shizuo slammed his hands on the table and abruptly stood up, propelling the chair backwards, squeaking and collapsing to the side.

He forcefully grabbed Izaya's arm and wrenched him up, dragging him from the sushi bar.

"Whoa! Wait, Shizu-chan!"

"Dennis, tell Vorona I'll be right back and I'm sorry!" Shizuo called behind his back, not breaking his stride.

The debt collector stormed out of the restaurant with an extremely irritated expression as the informant stumbled behind, desperately trying to keep from looking flustered and helpless.


"Louse, did Kadota talk to you?"

"Yes, he did, Shizu-chan." Izaya thanked his luck that they were in a dark alley right now.

"So—um, I am trying to—uh, get on better terms with you," Shizuo stuttered.

"Oya! Shizu-chan, the one who hates me down to my atomic core, who would rather I die a hundred times over, who couldn't care less if I get mobbed by the yakuza, wants to reconcilewith me?" His voice sounded confident enough...but…

Shizuo felt a vein twitch near the temple of his head.

Calm down, calm down. You promised…

Inhaling a deep breath, Shizuo replied as he exhaled, "Lou—Izaya," the name was stressed, "I'm trying very hard right now, so I ask that you please cooperate." Despite his efforts, his stance remained tense and stiff.

"My, Shizu-chan, you're quite serious~"

Please, don't notice that.

Izaya rambled on, desperately trying to hide the wavering of his voice.

"What was her name again? That Russian assassin. Oh, Vorona." He let out a shaky chuckle. "I'm glad, Shizu-chan!" He flung his arms out wide. "I hope she assassinates you soon! Then I won't have an annoying brute who always ruins my plans." The last few words fluctuated in tone-from high to low...anger to defeat...malice to...helpless.

If one paid close enough attention, he would have easily detected it, but no; the Fortissimo of Ikebukuro had little to no observation skills when infuriated.

Don't, don't, don't, oh please don't. Not now, don't notice the damned trembling.

Shizuo clenched his fists tightly together, grinding his foot on the poor cigarette that smacked against the ground two seconds ago. He heaved a deep breath shakily, lest he loses his temper and repeats history again, like so many times before-chasing Izaya down in attempted murder.

Izaya stared sideways, hands clenched onto the soft fabric inside his coat pocket.

"Fuck!" The wall dividing the alleys collapsed in a big roar. Izaya shut his eyes at the sound-he was used to it, but...this time Shizuo left him.

No longer did that brute chase after him.

No longer did he put Izaya before everything.

No longer...

"Ha, haha..haha!" Izaya stumbled backwards. During the short time that Shizuo stormed away from him, out the alley, turned left, and terrified everyone in his path, Izaya forced himself to stay rooted to the ground and still.

In the distance, Izaya heard cars screeching and the loud crunch of a street post being uprooted and used as a stress reliever.

His back hit the wall. He let momentum pull his head along.

The night sky twinkled with stars that night, strips of thin clouds twisting different designs. The air was chilly.

Izaya slumped against the hard wall, slowly sliding down along the cement structure.

What am I doing?

He ran a thin, cold hand through his raven-black hair.

This is pathetic...I never knew just how much it hurts...to want someone—anyone—to hold me tight...

"Haha...ha..."

He straightened and took a few steps forward.

Those demented stories those humans swoon over-love stories...when one character is alone, in complete despair...someone always comes at the right time to console them...

He walked instinctively, mechanically, having memorized both mentally and physically all the routes to and from Ikebukuro.

"Hah…"

What the hell am I thinking about?

He gripped his coat desperately, tightly, till his numbed hands turned white.

"Stupid…"

...I can't take this anymore...why? I've survived so long by myself. I don't need anyone. I'm better than that.

So why?

Tears silently slid down pale, numbing cheeks, tinged with pink.

Why do I wish for someone, anyone, to hold me...keep me together?

He took a few stuttering breaths.

Anything is fine...I don't care anymore...just hold me...

He wrapped his arms in front of himself and clutched painfully tight on his upper arms.

"Please…please."

I feel like I can fall apart any moment; my arms will become useless...it hurts...it hurts, it hurts.

A stab throbbed arduously at his heart...

"Please."

But life doesn't work that way. No one will come; not now, not ever.

Tears stained and burned his cheeks in the desolate night.

"No one."

No. No one will come.

Unknowingly, he had arrived at his apartment in Shinjuku.

The dark, empty apartment greeted him with malice, taking one last strike at Izaya.

"Ha—haha—hahaha!" The door slammed shut as the raven burst out laughing, tears still streaming down his cheeks. "Hahahaha!" He fell against the door, slightly bent over as his hand ran through his sleek hair, stopping at the back and pulling his head towards the door.

"Hah…haha…" Tears flooded his eyes. He hiccupped and slid to the floor.

"Pathetic—ha," he mumbled.

Any infinitesimal amount of hope remaining in Izaya was crushed and hurled out the top window of a skyscraper, because, perhaps, just maybe…someone would be there.

"I've said so many times; it doesn't work that way," he continued to murmur. "So many times, that no one will be there!" He threw his hands out in front of him, palms up, fingers stretched as if grabbing for something, and suddenly clenched them into fists. "So many times! Why won't you listen!" He swung his arms up and pounded them onto the floor, hard. Even through the numbness Izaya felt the pain.

Disregarding Izaya's frustration, a few people ran through Izaya's mind, flashes of possibilities. Despite his efforts to shut it out, Izaya couldn't do anything as his thoughts tortured him with false hopes.

Shiki…san…?

Izaya's body relaxed, his legs straight and arms slack at his sides as he leaned against the hard door.

Shiki-san…

Maybe, just maybe…oh, please…

.x.


A/N: The .x. is for the next chapter, 'cause we're gonna go back in time a little. ;)