I pick my poison and it's you
They have both been here before.
For the first time in what feels like forever, they're walking on a ground they recognize, passing through a scenery they know by heart, being fully aware of every movement their bodies make. Every torn street sign, every dodged vehicle, every climbed fence and every knife thrown; they both know the blood that stains their hands and their clothes as well as they know their own.
They have been here before but it seems different now, like they're understanding it for the first time, like they have just now realized the reason why punches never land where they should and knives never hit their target; this is not about killing, if one of them died, it would be the end of the game for both of them.
Shizuo realized that the moment he saw Izaya on that hospital bed, and everything, suddenly, fell into place, just like that.
The chase is not just a chase now, it's an understanding, a pact.
Was it like that form the beginning? Probably not, but neither of them knows when it changed.
Adrenaline takes over them and they move by inertia, never once missing a step, never once stopping; they smash into walls and climb up fences and jump from rooftops. They free-fall into each other as they always have, pulling in and pulling away, like gravity.
When they reach Shizuo's apartment they're both breathless and grinning like maniacs. Izaya's almost healed wound is throbbing painfully and he can barely stand on his own, so he leans on the door for support and watches at Shizuo approach slowly, hands clenched into fists and a predatory glint in his eyes.
"You caught me." Says the informant with fake distress. "Whatever shall I do now?"
"Open the door."
It's more a growl than actual words but Izaya has learned to understand Shizuo's particular language by now, so he turns around and takes the key out of his pocket, opening the door with deliberate carefulness and walking inside.
They stand facing each other, in the middle of that small apartment with no doors, bathed in the fading sunlight, for that seems like an eternity.
"He could have killed you." Shizuo says suddenly, voice soft as a faraway thunder.
"No, Shizu-chan, he couldn't have."
"You didn't seem so sure back there."
Izaya forces himself to hold Shizuo's stare, fully aware that what he's about to say will take them to a place from where they won't be able to come back.
"Only I can choose who kills me, Shizu-chan. And I chose you years ago, no one else ever stood a chance."
Shizuo's expression changes, the air around them changes, the game itself changes.
There's no going back now.
Shizuo takes a step towards him, seeming suddenly unsure. When Izaya doesn't move, he takes another one, and then another one, and before any of them knows what's happening, Izaya has his arms wrapped around the blonde's neck, and Shizuo's lifting him up off the ground and their lips clash with the force of a tidal wave, leaving them both standing in the eye of the hurricane. It's not gentle and it's not soft and there's nothing romantic about it, but it has never been with them, so it's not that much of a surprise.
It's simple, it's raw and it's real.
They fall on the bed in a tangle of limbs, rolling around the mattress, fighting to gain the upper hand with the same energy they always fight with. The press of Shizuo's fingers on Izaya's hips is a clear indication that he's not holding back and Izaya feels empowered and exhilarated at the thought of the monster believing him to be strong enough to handle his strength.
They part when they're both so out of air that they can barely see straight, and Izaya sits up, straddling Shizuo and staring down at him with half lidded eyes.
They spend a slow, painful lifetime regaining their breaths in silence as they stare at each other.
"Fuck." Shizuo breathes.
Izaya laughs.
"I managed to leave you breathless, ne?"
"You always do."
If they were other people, it could sound almost romantic, but Izaya knows that Shizuo's not talking about that; Shizuo is as practical as he is blunt, when he says Izaya leaves him breathless, he means exactly that; chasing Izaya around the city is a tiring task, even for him. Izaya finds that a lot more flattering than any romantic bullshit others could come up with.
"What now?" Izaya's voice is a soft, inaudible whisper. He knows Shizuo deserves the chance to turn back, he owes him that much, but selfish as he is, he doesn't really want to offer it.
Shizuo turns his head to the side, closing his eyes. His hands, Izaya notice, are still gripping his hips.
"You can leave, if you want."
Leave it to Shizuo to always be the better man. Just another reason to hate him.
"I don't want to."
Shizuo's eyes snap open and he looks back at Izaya. His lips start to curve into a smile Izaya's never seen before, and he moves his hands very slowly to grab at Izaya's shirt and pull him down. Then they're centimetres apart, their noses almost touching, chests pressed flush against each other.
"Do whatever the fuck you want, then." Shizuo growls.
That's the only invitation Izaya needs to lean down and crash their lips together again.
Shizuo returns each of Izaya's kisses with the same fervour, if not more, and holds him as tight as he can, running his hands along every inch of Izaya's body as if trying to memorize it by touch, but for all his eagerness, he doesn't make a move to change their positions, and Izaya remains on top the whole time; it's Izaya who undresses them and Izaya who chooses how slow or how fast.
At this point, Izaya knows that this is just Shizuo being Shizuo; sickeningly thoughtful even in a moment like this, thinking about what Izaya wants - what he needs, even when he's not so sure of it himself.
Izaya wonders, as Shizuo guides his hands slowly down his back with a clear intention, if the monster himself is aware of the way he acts.
The blonde's fingers find what they were looking for and every muscle in Izaya tenses, spine arching and toes curling and head rolling back. For a moment, all that can be heard are Izaya's soft pants and whimpers and Shizuo's increasingly erratic breathing. Then Shizuo's fingers are replaced by something moister, bigger, warmer, his fingers move to Izaya's hips and lift him without any effort, then bring him back down. Izaya could swear that he lost consciousness in that very moment, for at least a second. When he opens his eyes and looks down, Shizuo's staring at him the way someone would stare at an eclipse; scared of going blind but too wonderstruck to look away -it's almost enough to bring Izaya over the edge.
Sex, as it turns out, is nothing like the chases they're used to - it's painfully slow, each touch deliberate and precise, each kiss aiming to explore rather than bruise, each thrust faster, deeper than the last.
Will it be different the second time? Izaya would definitely like to find out, but he can't really be bothered to think about that right now.
Shizuo increases the pace, thrusting up harder, faster, deeper, until Izaya's head spins and all he can feel is the inhuman heat emanating from the man under him and the press of skin against skin, and teeth biting hard at the base of his neck. Shizuo lets out an animalistic growl in his ear and Izaya's sight goes blank.
The world as they knew it ended that night.
When Shizuo wakes up the next morning, Izaya's gone and there's a note pinned to the door by a switchblade.
Wait and see, Shizu-chan.