Love

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It was the day when people sent hearts to each other. When the boys and girls flushed at the sensitive questions they asked. Ones that were, "I like you, will you go out with me?" They'd hope for a decent reaction from the one they were confessing too. Sometimes it wasn't what they expected. Sometimes it was callous words that stay in one's heart forever. The emotion on their faces would drain away, to a dull inconceivable feeling.

Izaya had watched it all from the halls, the roof, and in front and at the back of the school. He watched inside the classrooms. Every one of them were obvious in their confessions. Some were harsh, others were kind. No one was the exact same, but they lived by a pattern that Izaya can see and predict.

He got one last year, and at first when he looked at it, considering its worth before opening it. Drawn hearts surrounded his name written in cursive. The confession was beneath it, and underneath that, was the name of the girl.

He was unsure of what to do. So he threw it out, and he might've heard a gasp before walking out of the classroom. More followed after, and he ripped them to pieces before throwing them in the garbage. He even received some from the guys in his class. Some were insults, others were genuine confessions that he took note of. He also threw those out.

By the time the day ended, he collected the names of who liked him. While he walked home, hands tucked inside his pockets. He wondered what he was going to do with them, all so willing that it amused him.

Now it was that same day, and he received less than last year. He did mentally hold their names of the ones who confessed inside his head until further use. He held the confessions in the form of red and pink paper and left class during break. He looked around, but he couldn't find him. The only place he could think of was the roof when he wanted to get away from people. The door was usually locked and only accessed by a teacher or a janitor. When Izaya walked up the stairs, he didn't assume that it was when all he had to do was push against it.

They'd leave it for the teachers to find out again. He strolled along the roof, looking around until he spotted him. He was lying down on the ground beneath the shade, his eyes closed, and his arms were behind his head as a pillow.

Izaya walked closer to him, and watched his blond dyed strands drift over his face. Izaya stood over him, extending his hand above him and dropped the confessions on Shizuo. He didn't stir so Izaya sat down in front of him, watching him sleep with the hearts on top of his hair and clothes. The front collar was undone, and his tie was loose around his neck. There was a sheen of sweat on his neck, and his hair stuck to his skin. He was the same old Shizuo who once again received a lot less confessions than he did.

He also disliked this day, and tried his hardest to hide from people who'd try to confess to him. He'd reject them, but when they bugged him for too long, Shizuo's temper overflowed. He'd either break yet another desk or smashing a window. Izaya liked hearing about Shizuo's destructive nature.

Izaya leaned forward, poking Shizuo in the cheek. "Wake up, monster." Shizuo didn't move and stayed sleeping. Izaya touched Shizuo's nose, until his hand came to his forehead where he placed his palm against it. He was warm, his skin soft, and his hair softer. Izaya ran his fingers through his hair. He couldn't help smiling. Not the malicious smile when they fought each other. It was something else, warmer, kinder, unlike anything he would ever show anyone.

It was a raw, unnatural thing that was indistinct to him.

Izaya could never give that to Shizuo. He wouldn't dare open himself up to the prospect that Shizuo could see more of him. He liked this, Shizuo being under his thumb, that his attention stayed on him alone. There wasn't a day that Izaya liked seeing Shizuo, he anticipated it each day, and when they were off for the weekend. He would search for him.

Izaya continued running his fingers through Shizuo's hair, enjoying the softness. When the bell rang, Shizuo didn't move. And Izaya ripped the confessions he received, and scattered the pieces across Shizuo. He stayed like this, still smiling, holding that small bit of warmth inside of him. Steady, and hoping it wouldn't break.

Izaya leaned forward, placing his hand on one side of Shizuo's head, while the other stayed on the left. He tilted his head to the side, leaning down, blowing the red and pink pieces off his lips. He pressed his nose against Shizuo's.

"Shizu-chan," he whispered, his smile forming into that same malice he gave everyone else. "You missed a few classes, Shizu-chan."

Shizuo groaned, turning his head, and tipping his chin up, revealing more of his throat. The pink and red were stuck from the layer of sweat.

Izaya's mouth went dry. Hesitant. He leaned closer, his eyes fluttering shut, and he pressed a kiss to his cheek next to more red and pink confessions. When he heard Shizuo groan again, his chest tightened, and he moved back. Placing his hands in his lap, and frowning at him.

"Shizu-chan, it's time to wake up," he said, reaching down for his white shirt and pulled on the rolled up sleeve. "Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up."

Shizuo groaned, his eyes moving, brows pushing together and his mouth parted. "Shut up, Izaya."

He didn't think he'd feel it, but his heart raced when Shizuo said his name in a low, sleepy, voice. He wanted him to say it again.

"You missed some classes," Izaya said.

Shizuo murmured, and his brows smoothed out, and Izaya thought he was falling back to sleep.

"Wake up, Shizu-chan. You missed classes," Izaya said, reaching for the front of his shirt, but a hand came up and grasped his wrist. He went still, expecting the pain, but there was nothing.

"I know, Izaya," Shizuo said, blinking his eyes opened. "Can you shut up and let me sleep?"

Izaya bit down on his lower lip, and he felt this urge he didn't think he'd experience. At least not toward Shizuo. It was normal. He was at a normal age for these things. He always thought it would happen with a girl. And to his surprise, he didn't mind that it was Shizuo who made him feel this way.

Shizuo let go of his wrist and sat up. "What the?" He looked at the pink and red ripped up paper. "What the hell is this, Izaya?"

Izaya looked at the red and pink covering Shizuo's body, and he grinned. Leaning forward, giving Shizuo a smirk. "Isn't it obvious, Shizu-chan, it's my confession to you."

Shizuo wrinkled his nose, picking a piece off the side of his face. "Why'd you rip it up?"

Izaya blinked, sitting back. Words falling from his lips. He didn't expect that, unlike the humans he watched. The monster who he couldn't predict. He should've known that he wouldn't have reacted the way he thought he would.

He let the indistinct feeling grow in his heart, shrouding the warmth he wished he could convey. And he let himself say in a sarcastic tone, "Because you don't deserve it."

Shizuo glared, still picking off more paper from his face and clothes. Izaya helped him. When they finished, they separated to their individual classes. But that day stayed in Izaya's mind, even how much he wanted to forget it. It still lived inside of him, beating in his heart, along with the pain.