Summary: If he couldn't have him, no one would. He would sell his soul to the devil just to make sure that the other is his and his alone. But now, he is broken and he gave up. He doesn't remember how hope tastes like.
Golden Brown
There is a girl making her way towards him. He already knows what is going to happen even before it does. He likes to maintain his appearance, so he doesn't run away. After all, this isn't the first time this happened and he already has learned how to deal with this type of situation. He smiles; smile fake, teeth and all.
"Oh, Rina-chan, is that for me?" – He says, as his hand moves towards the purple chocolate box shaped as a heart.
The girl just looks at him. Her dark hair looks like a silk. And, blue eyes are so rare in Japan. Of course she would have them. Everyone would say she looks pretty; but, to him she looks all wrong. She is too soft; too nice, too sweet. And, Izaya hates sweet things.
He smiles wider, when he notes another box of chocolates; the same as the one she just gave him. She clenches it in her hand, almost hiding it behind her back.
"Who is the other one for?" he asks. The answer comes in words that are so quiet that he barely hears them. At first, he thinks that he has heard wrong; but the dread is slowly pulling into his bones when the girl repeats the name.
He swallows and smiles with his brightest smile. He moves his lashes, up and down. Regardless of the fact that his mask is cracking, he makes himself pull out his sweetest voice.
"But, Rina-chan; they are my favorites. What do you say to a night with me for the both of them?"
The girl looks down while her cheeks are blushing; and even before her response is a shy nod, he already feels irritated, ashamed, and dirty.
She gives him the both boxes and when he is ready to put them away, to later throw them, she looks at him like a kicked puppy and asks "Orihara-kun, won't you try them?"
Izaya hates sweet things; hates them more than anything; but he unwraps the box and takes a piece. He chews it and it's sticky in his mouth. It screams sweet, cheap, and disgusting. Nevertheless, even if he wants to throw it up, he still swallows it. He knows that he has to give her something; eating chocolate, and one night together is a small price to pay. And, he knows, if he doesn't do it, she will lose interest and go the next guy. He doesn't want that; not because she is special; but, because the next guy is.
If he can't have him, no one will. He will sell his soul to the devil just to make sure that the other is his and his alone.
Later that night, when she goes home, and his mask slips; he cries. He feels so used, dirty and cheap. He scrubs his body, changes the sheets, and he thinks of the blond locks, and warm eyes.
Even today he still feels sick when he sees that purple on commercials, billboards, and in store. He hasn't eaten chocolate ever since.
The next Valentine's day, he spends his monthly earnings on imported Belgian chocolate. He packs it in a black box and ties it with a scarlet ribbon. He writes a letter, but he is too much of a coward to sign it. The words are truth, even if there isn't any name. If Shizu-chan finds out who the sender is, he will play it like a joke. He will do anything; just not to be rejected.
Every year since then, Izaya sends the same box with the same chocolates in it. Every year he sends a letter. He never signs it. This year he does. The note is short and it simply says: "I won't send them anymore, Izaya."
The delivery guy rings, and just as Izaya is about to give him his package, he receives one. It is a golden box with a brown ribbon on it. It looks exactly as the one in Izaya's hands; the only thing that is different is the color.
He takes it. The note isn't sighed; but, it doesn't have to be. Izaya knows who it is from. On his face, a smile is painted; even if he isn't aware of it. He rereads the note, just to be sure that he isn't dreaming. It is simple; just three words are looking back at him: "Please come back."
Before Izaya gives the black box to the delivery man he removes his own note and replaces it with only one word: "Soon".
When he is alone, he opens the box. It is the same Belgian brand he always sends; but, he suspects that the taste is different. He takes one piece and tries it. It is bitter and hard. There isn't a thing sweet in it. He likes it. He closes the box, and puts a ribbon back. He wants to save this; to hold it as a reminder until he is better.
He makes a call, schedules the therapy. He holds tight the handle of his wheelchair. He will go back as soon as he can walk again. He doesn't want Shizuo to feel guilty. The part of him is screaming, why would he, you deserved this; but, he shuts down that part of himself.
He looks at the box, feeling the golden flames of hope in his chest. Everything feels warm, and for the first time in more than a year he feels. He closes his eyes and asks the white walls of his empty apartment, can he really hope. The walls stay silent, but even then he knows that the color of hope is golden brown.
