ch. 3

WARNING: rape, noncon, suicidal behavior, bdsm themes. Also angst and fluff.

The sight alone was enough to make him angry. The flash of his white teeth, the malicious glint in his eyes, the way he twirled on his feet with his hands in the air, mocking, always mocking. Words would tumble out of his mouth, words that would make Shizuo's blood boil with rage, and then, right before Shizuo could crush him into the asphalt, he would side-step with a laugh and flitter away, cackling as he did so.

Trying to catch him was like trying to thread a needle while having a seizure. That is to say, impossible. Even for Shizuo.

Izaya seemed to know it, too. He knew the effect he had on people, and he loved it. He loved to make Shizuo lose control and give in to the violence he so detested. He loved to make the man scream in frustration at the top of his lungs and grab the nearest object to chuck at him. Shizuo was perhaps his favorite human to play with because the man was so easily provoked. Izaya knew every button to push that would make him lose control and turn into beast mode and he delighted in pushing those buttons. It wasn't hard.

Shizuo always knew when Izaya was around because of the smell. Shizuo had a keen sense of smell, but Izaya's scent was something that Shizuo learned he could pick up anywhere.

It was somewhat wintery, like mountain air, and musky, like abandoned buildings. And infuriating, like when you first find out that elves don't live on the north pole, and Santa doesn't have a naughty list, and that dollar was from your parents and not the tooth fairy after all.

That is to say, Izaya smelled to Shizuo like the crushing of childhood dreams and everything bad in the world.

That is how Shizuo found Izaya behind the abandoned factory in the first place. He had been walking home from his bar-tending job at 3 AM when he noticed the smell of Izaya. Next he recognized the coppery smell of blood. The two ingredients did not abide well together, so he went to investigate, hoping for an opportunity to crush the flea.

He never knew it was possible for the flea to be so utterly crushed.

He had dreamed of it plenty of times, sure. He dreamed of the flea lying in a pile of his own blood, sadistic smirk finally erased off of his face. He dreamed of grabbing that head in his two hands and crushing it like an egg. Because Shizuo hated violence, but he hated Izaya more.

Even though Shizuo dreamed and wished for this, he never actually expected such a thing to happen in reality. It was beyond comprehension. And so, for the longest time, he refused to believe it was Izaya before him so utterly broken. Because that couldn't be Izaya.

He looked so fragile, so childish naked. His body was thin and white and his muscles were taut from hanging. His hair was black and glistening with sweat as it fell over his bowed face. The blood dripping down from between his legs was shockingly red on that white skin, like when you squeeze a fistful of cherries and the red liquid oozes down your arm.

The way his chest expanded with each labored breath reminded Shizuo of a bird beating against a cage. And for the longest time Shizuo could only stare in denial.

This could not be Izaya.

There was no way someone like him could look like something like this.

But there was no mistaking that scent.

Shizuo removed the handcuffs holding Izaya up and caught him before he crumpled to the ground. Izaya's naked body was warm; hot even. Shizuo couldn't help but awkwardly notice this. He was holding the naked boy in his arms, after all. He didn't know how anything could feel so fragile, or how tremors could wreck a body so violently.

It was so different than his dreams of a defeated Izaya. He told himself it was because Izaya had been defeated by other people and not by his own hands. Normally Shizuo would not hesitate to finish the job. And yet there was a strange absence of anger on Shizuo's part. In fact, he felt no violence strengthening his muscles at all.

Izaya's scent was overpowering as he lay in Shizou's arm. Never before had Shizuo caught Izaya. Never before had their bodies been so close. Never before had the scent of Izaya existed without the correlation of blinding rage debilitating Shizuo's better judgement.

Shizuo was shocked when Izaya picked himself up and stood upon his own feet. He stood, looking crooked and bent and swaying as if he would crumble any second. His hair hung over his eyes, shadowing his face. And yet a smile was back, albeit smaller and trembling.

"Sh-shizou," he said, holding up his hands in the old-fashioned way, sans trembling. "Didn't you want to try out my dirty hole?"

"The fuck you talking about?" demanded Shizuo, genuinely bewildered. And yet his eyes couldn't help but sink and take note of the blood, still trickling. He was overcome with nausea.

"Isn't it your dream to defile me?" laughed Izaya. His voice was high pitched, his laugh sounding more like a strangled scream or a sob. "Or am I too filthy for even my worst enemy to want to destroy me?"

"Shut up," demanded Shizuo. He could feel himself growing angry now, but for a different reason than normal. "You don't know what you're saying."

Izaya shrugged and bent to pick up his coat that was trampled into the pavement. Shizuo thought he would fall when he bent over, but he somehow managed to retain his balance.

Izaya turned around as if to leave. "I thought I knew everything about you, my beloved human, and yet you somehow managed to shock me. How interesting. How unexpected." He chuckled.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" demanded Shizuo to Izaya's departing figure. "You're fucking naked and you're bleeding."

"To finish the job since you won't," muttered Izaya. "They said I would. Find a building, you know. They were right. A god isn't a god without worshipers, after all."

What was going on? Izaya was going to kill himself? Shizuo cursed at Izaya's departing figure. He didn't know how to respond, so he reverted back to his characteristic anger. He was angry, so angry. Possibly more angry than ever before. The flea should just go and die. Everyone knew that was what he deserved. And yet Shizuo was angry, and he couldn't control himself when angry.

That was Shizuo's excuse when he tore off his jacket and stormed forward towards Izaya. That was what he told himself when he threw his jacket over Izaya's narrow shoulders and swept him off his feet and into his arms.

"W-what?" gasped Izaya, struggling feebly. He was like a small bird compared to Shizuo's strength, completely immobilized. And yet Shizuo still held him gently, shamefully like a baby.

"Shuddup!" Shizuo practically yelled. His mind was made up. Nothing could change his mind now. After all, he was angry. Enraged, even. He stared straight ahead and his stride was fast and purposeful.

"Th-the fuck you taking me?" cried Izaya, and his voice was suddenly wobbly, and choked with tears. "Put me down."

"You're in shock and so you are not in your right mind to make judgments concerning yourself," responded Shizuo. Than added, "At least that is what I'm pretty sure Shinra would say. But I'll double check with him soon, anyway."