WARNING: EXTREME fluff, angst, descriptions of after-rape, talk of suicide and really kinky stuff, some fluff. leave comments or whatever it is you do here, people.
For Izaya, time was glitching like an old tv screen. Blackness, then he would notice small things: The dim shine of a street lamp, the thumping of Shizuo's heart. The quietness of the night being interrupted by a cat's meowing on a stone ledge close by. A man stabbing into him. Heavy breathing, clammy hands.
No, it was Shizuo's hands.
Shizuo was helping him.
The present moment was jumbled with the recent past, but most of his sensations gave over to the pain that wracked his body and mind and transcended even into the blackness of his flickering consciousness.
He was outside on the streets and then there was a glitch and he was inside a building, and resting in a bed.
Shizuo was talking in the other room, but not to him. He was on a phone. Izaya heard snippets of the conversation through his hazy mind. "...bleeding…beaten but mostly...suicidal….but I can't! When will you be back?!" This part was mostly yelled. There was silence for a while after that, and then, "for how long?"
Izaya heard something bang in the other room, and he jumped. He assumed Shizuo punched a wall or threw something. Footsteps. Shizuo was in the room, calmer now.
"Hey, how you feeling?" he asked, voice gruff, as if he was trying to speak gently but was not used to it. It almost made Izaya want to laugh.
"That is a rather pointless question to ask," muttered Izaya. He didn't like to have Shizuo standing over him as he lay there so he attempted to pull himself up into a sitting position, but the attempt proved more painful than it was worth. "However I'd like to wash before going home."
He wanted more than a bath, for it would take more than a bath to rid himself of the filth. He had a sudden desire to skin himself alive, and then separate each of his muscles, and maybe if he sanitized every cell of his body he could be reassembled and stitched back together and feel clean again. Maybe..
Shizuo's brow wrinkled. "I talked to Shinra, but he's working in another part of the city for a week. He gave me directions, however." Shizuo's voice cracked, and he looked downright uncomfortable. "I'm going to be your, eh, caregiver. And don't think I'm happy about it either. He said you are not to leave or be unsupervised, as your mental health is compromised and of the utmost priority. Something like that."
"W-what's that mean?" demanded Izaya, suddenly feeling trapped. "Does it mean you're gonna chain me to the bed?"
He was being sarcastic but Shizuo took him seriously, the fucking protozoan. "I don't know about chaining you, but I at least have to keep an eye on you, maybe tie you up at night. Just until Shinra and I are convinced you are mentally stable." He paused. "Not that you ever were to begin with," he added.
Rage filled Izaya, and he squeezed the blanket underneath him in white-knuckled fists. This bumbling idiot and his friend, there were no suitable words to curse them.
"I'm going to start the bath," said Shizuo, departing into the other room, leaving Izaya to his rage.
Izaya slowly slid his legs over the edge of the bed and rested his hand on the wall. He was thankful Shizuo wasn't there to see this. Every movement hurt. Part of him wanted to run to the door and escape, but making any sudden movements was as impossible as flying at the moment.
"The bath is full," mumbled Shizuo, walking into the room. He stopped at the doorway, his eyes narrowing in on Izaya.
"Sh-shit," cursed Izaya. He was standing by the bed, his hand grasping the wall. His knees were wobbling so out of control that he knew if he took one more step he would crumble. He could feel a new bubble of blood and semen dislodging itself inside him to dribble down his thighs. New bruises were emerging, and his white body was covered with the beginnings of harsh blue markings.
He could only imagine how pathetic he looked. He wanted to die. His face was turned to the side but it didn't hide the burning of his cheeks. "D-don't look," he pleaded, holding out one hand palm-up in Shizuo's direction. It was futile anyway. Izaya knew that Shizuo had already seen. And he was most scared of the look of disgust and absolute revolution that he was sure would be in Shizuo's eyes.
Footsteps approached, and then he was being swept off his feet. He covered his face with his hands as he was carried into the bathroom and lowered into warm water. One of Shizuo's hands rested on his back, supporting him up in a sitting position. The other was, Izaya was horrified to find, beginning to soap his torso.
'I-I can do it myself!" Izaya weakly protested.
"I have to do this," muttered Shizuo. Izaya caught a glimpse of his face then, and he saw that Shizuo was blushing with embarrassment, but there was a look of calm determination in his eyes tinged with pity. "Shinra and I spoke together, He's not here right now, so it's up to me to do this."
Shizuo washed his hair and his back and his torso and from his knees down. Izaya grew more agitated as the dirty places grew less. He was about to say something, but Shizuo beat him to it.
"This next part is going to be hard for you, but Shinra told me what to look for. You can either accept it without struggling, or I'll restrain you if I have to."
Izaya was trembling. The water suddenly didn't seem so warm. He could feel terror leaking into his muscles, paralyzing him in place.
Shizuo laid a hand on his bony shoulder. His hand was so large it hung over the sides. It was scary, but it was warm too.
"It's okay, you can trust me," whispered Shizuo.
It wasn't like he had a choice, anyway. Yet that one sentence was enough to compel Izaya to lurch forward. He thrust his arms around Shizuo and laid his head over his shoulder, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. "H-hurry up, I'm scared!" he gasped, trembling.
Shizuo was gentle washing his backside. He only touched when he had to. He kneaded the lower part of Izaya's stomach to expel any lingering semen and washed it away with the shower hose.
He wrapped Izaya in a towel and carried him back to bed, where he laid him on his stomach.
The sensation of being face-down made Izaya immediately attempt to right himself, but Shizuo pushed his head back onto the bed.
A million flashbacks flickered across his mind in that instant, and he was there again, behind the factory. So many hands on him, in him.
"It's okay," Shizuo said to the panicking body beneath him. "I won't hurt you."
Izaya's heart was beating out of his chest and he couldn't breathe. "Let me up!" he gasped.
"Not until you calm down and listen to what I have to say," said Shizuo.
Izaya immediately went lax in an attempt to convince Shizuo to allow him to sit up again.
"Listen," muttered Shizou, and his voice was low, as if trying to reason to a small child. It made Izaya want to barf and then stick some needles in the man's eyes, but somehow his voice did have a calming effect despite Izaya's attempted resistance. "I know this is extremely uncomfortable for you, as it is for me, but Shinra gave me directions on how to do this. I have antibiotic ointment and I need to apply it to where you could be torn inside. It needs to be done twice a day. I know you don't want to be reminded of what happened, and I know this will probably remind you. But I want you to remember that this is me, and I won't hurt you. This is so you can heal."
Izaya gritted his teeth together and cursed through them, but when Shizuo removed his hand from his head he remained laying down. He gripped the sheets beneath him as if all his willpower to stay still was in his fingertips. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think about something else, but the only thing that flooded his mind when he closed his eyes were the memories of before.
Shizuo smoothed his buttocks apart and gently stuck a finger coated with antibiotic ointment inside. It didn't hurt as much as Izaya was expecting, it was just cold. Still Izaya could not stop the moan that slipped out of his throat or the way his legs began to grow week and tremble. Tears oozed out of his eyes and he hated himself for it.
He hated himself, he hated himself, he wanted to die.
It only lasted a second, and then Shizuo pulled his hand away. It was cold inside, and the cold somehow numbed out the pain.
"Is it okay?"asked Shizuo, and his voice was laced with concern. Izaya stayed face, down, gripping the blankets, too mortified to look up, But he nodded anyway.
