Here you go, my lovelies, the next chapter for you to read! :3
About three weeks had passed and Izaya seemed to be recovering fairly quickly. Somehow the pair had managed to get into a routine, despite the fact that they snapped at each other constantly. Shizuo would prepare breakfast for the two of them, eat with Izaya, make him some lunch for later, leave for work, come home and then the two would have dinner, Shizuo being the cook most of the time, but occasionally Izaya would make food as well. Although his physical state was improving at a rapid pace, Izaya didn't seem to repair his broken pride. It wasn't certain whether Shizuo was making excuses or not, but he somehow felt that he had to take care of Izaya until he was completely back to normal, mind and all. He hadn't shown it obviously the day Shizuo had brought Izaya to his home, but Shizuo could tell that he was constantly mulling over the day that Shizuo found him. He couldn't help but wonder what had happened.
One day, when Shizuo returned home, he saw Izaya staring outside the window, lost in his thoughts. Shizuo couldn't help but speak his mind.
"Izaya," He said as he shut the door, drawing his attention away from the window. "You hardly ever show it, but I can tell that you're thinking about the day I found you. What happened?"
"It's nothing," Izaya said, looking away.
"It's not nothing!" Shizuo had to restrain himself from shouting as loudly as he could.
"Why do you want to know, Shizu-chan? You're not usually the type to have any concern with the likes of me," He hissed, taking a few steps towards the bodyguard, then sighed, giving in. "I had sold some information about a gang and they tracked me down and ambushed me. I ran, but I wasn't able to lose them. I ended up running to the top of a building, and then they caught me. End of story." Although Izaya had tried to keep his voice somewhere between emotionless and mocking of Shizuo's curiosity, the other man could hear his voice waver notably.
"So what's the point of mulling over this? You're the most intelligent, manipulative person in Ikebukuro. You could get them back easily," Shizuo made an attempt to make Izaya feel better, however to no avail. It only served to make Izaya's irritation with him grow.
"This is none of your concern," He snapped irritably. He was right, of course, but Shizuo was stubborn and he was determined to get him back to his usual self.
"Yes it is, I'm taking care of you," He retorted.
"I'm better," Izaya's voice started to rise then dropped into a near-whisper. "I should go." He turned and made for the door, grabbing the door handle and about to leave, when Shizuo caught his wrist with great strength.
"No," Shizuo said defiantly, and then, on impulse, pulling Izaya towards him. He held Izaya's chin with his free hand and pulled his face forward, leaning down slightly, until their lips met in a hard, forceful kiss. Izaya's eyes slowly shut and returned the kiss, their tongues and saliva mixing together as Shizuo slid his hand up Izaya's shirt. When Shizuo started playing with and pinching the other's nipples, Izaya pulled his head back and tried his hardest to push Shizuo away. Somehow managing to wriggle himself out of Shizuo's grip, the shorter male stepped away. All he could do was gape slightly and then shake his head before turning and walking out the door and away from the apartment as fast as he could.
After the door had shut, Shizuo just stepped back and fell onto his bed, covering his mouth with his hand. What had he done? Didn't he hate him? Well, after that, it was certain that Izaya despised his very being.
Izaya got out of there as fast as he could. Shizuo had hated him, ever since they first met back at school. So why? Why now? Izaya didn't actually hate the other. In fact the reason that he loved teasing him and getting into fights was him was probably to get his attention. He wasn't sure if he could admit that, though. After he had gotten away from Shizuo's apartment building, he stopped and leaned against a wall. He put his hand to his chest and clutched his shirt. Why was his heart beating so fast?
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