October 7, 2012

It's been a year since this was published! I can't believe I stuck with it. Thank you for the support! Here's a quick update as a treat.

OnOR Chapter 11:

Izaya's eyes snapped open and stared into the dense darkness of his room. His breathing had turned into short, stuttering gasps for air. His heart was beating quickly against his chest; he could hear blood pounding through his veins. His palms were uncomfortably sweaty, as were his legs and his neck. Yet, he felt cold.

That had to be a nightmare…with a dash of dreamlike qualities…

Blurry scenes of the night city streets…of hazy passersby…of…people…and—

Shizuo.

As his breathing slowly returned to normal, Izaya's mind couldn't slow down. He remembered pieces of last night, of something about Earthworm, of Kadota, of—he refused to believe it was Shizuo. Izaya lay in confusion, trying to separate the different scenes in his mind into reality and imagination. What happened? Did that happen? What…

It was all a mess. He had no idea what to think, what to believe.

Maybe it was all a dream…

Once he closed his eyes, he slipped into another state of half-consciousness. Falling back asleep didn't sound like such a bad idea…for once.

Izaya lost track of time as he dropped from consciousness and back. Not that he had any idea of time, anyway.

He was starting to feel uncomfortable, what with the unpleasant feeling throughout his body and his brain waking up…

Might as well not try falling back asleep anymore.

Izaya blinked his eyes blearily in the darkness of his room. The blinds had been drawn, but pale, barely noticeable moonlight still snuck in through the thin slits.

Izaya moved his arm to pull the covers off, only to wince in pain as his whole body throbbed from sore muscles. He flexed his fingers, growing frustrated at the lack of strength he felt—rather, the strength he couldn't feel—in them. Groaning in irritation, he forcefully shoved his covers, which had become too heavy, off to the side as he slid his legs to the side of his bed.

The moment he put any pressure on those thin, shaky legs, Izaya collapsed to the floor. He threw his arms out in reflex to catch himself; he had barely even gotten halfway upright. Stabs shot through his thighs, his arms, his abdomen—practically everywhere, as he willed himself to stay perfectly still, his palms flat on the carpet as his knees pressed into the floor.

This pain…guess that part with the gang wasn't some creation of his brain.

Izaya tasted blood on his tongue, immediately realizing that he'd been biting down hard on his bottom lip, his forehead creased tight enough to trigger a headache.

Another attempt to stand up landed him back down on the floor. Izaya cursed, frustration growing exponentially, fueling his headache and sore throbbing. He leaned back against his bed, sighing in fatigue. The heaviness of his head made it loll to the side, almost as if he was trying to rest it on his own shoulder.

Izaya was still in his jeans and his ripped V-neck shirt. He tugged at the clothing clinging to him, only starting to notice how much it bothered him.

His closet and drawers stood on the other side of the room, and screw it all; he'll crawl over there if he had to.

And he did.

Pulling open his drawers, Izaya blindly felt for his black shorts and grey hoodie. And, of course, underwear. He really needed to change. After grabbing everything he needed, he tried standing again, with the help of the furniture. He leaned heavily against it, eyes clenched at the pain in his thighs, and waited it out.

Slowly, painfully, he took intermittent steps towards his bathroom.

He remembered. Everything was coming back to him, in the dark of the room, in the silence of the flat.

He remembered everything up until the moment when that man slammed his head against the wall. Involuntarily, Izaya's hand touched the spot that he now noticed was throbbing slightly. It was nothing; it'll go away in a day.

The bathroom light blinded him momentarily as he flipped the switch on.

He set his clean change of clothes to the side, and, looking up into the mirror, he froze at the sight of the darkening bruise on his forehead, the blood clotted on the sides of his face, the ripped lips.

He tore his eyes away, refusing to form any sort of reaction to it. Maybe he already did.

Twisting faucet of his shower to HOT, he stripped off his clothing and threw them aside...more like flimsily flinging them. His body still hurt so much.

Having the shower water pelt his scalp with hot—almost too hot—water, wiped his mind of all thoughts. The sound of falling water filled his ears, soothing him from the tension in his body. It was worth the sting in his cuts. He didn't realize he'd had so many.

The pain will ease, once I get used to it, Izaya told himself. He trailed a slim finger against the laceration along his throat.

It'll be fine.

I'll be fine.

Once again, he forgot how long he stayed like that for, until the steam fogged up the entire bathroom, and breathing got harder.

Reluctantly, he shut the water off and watched the steam dissipate as he swung a towel over his body.

Looking down, he saw bruises forming on his arms, parts of his thighs. There really was nothing he could do about it. No one would notice, anyway, when he wore that fur-trimmed jacket and those skinny jeans... Oh, that might hurt.

It didn't matter; it had happened before. Izaya opened the door and shivered when the cold air swept past him. He tenderly walked over to his bed with his clothes in hand. His bottom really hurt...so did his thighs...his knees...

The first time happened before he met Shiki. Always the arrogant bastard, Izaya meddled with the underground world when he was a mere young teenager, before he transferred schools to Raijin High. It was something akin to a huge slap in the face when they caught him; Izaya was harshly taught that no, he didn't know life better than other people.

No, he needed to be worse than them if he wanted to survive.

The towel slipped easily from Izaya's thin, battered frame onto the carpeted floor. His brows scrunched slightly as he pulled on his underwear, then his shorts, his socks, and his hoodie. He crawled back into bed.

When he met Shiki, he was much more wary. Men like him, with stupid boys clamoring to work for him and frightened potential "business" partners, would in no way regard Izaya with importance. He was only a useful pawn who did things to their satisfaction—hence the somewhat higher status than "stupid boy clamoring for attention." But Shiki gave off a different feeling. Izaya suspected him even more, not used to the respectful way of speech from underground world bosses.

How could he have been so careless? That second time happened not long after Izaya met Shizuo, when that man turned the world upside down, inside and out. Izaya hated him. He hated how easily Shizuo ruined his plans. He hated how effortlessly Shizuo was able to see right through him.

Izaya had finally established a somewhat mutual trust between him and Shiki, and had ventured out in the middle of the night for—

Izaya turned in his bed, eyes clenching tight enough together to see stars form. He wished he had switched lights off in the bathroom.

It happened then, that night, and he got home by himself, albeit the hurdles and the pain. The next few days, at or out of school, Izaya avoided Shizuo. He took the extra effort to hide instead of gallivanting in front of his face. Even so, no one noticed. No one, not even Shinra, seemed to notice that he sometimes flinched when he stepped with the wrong amount of weight on his foot. No one saw that he sometimes had a limp in his gait. No one realized that he froze at times upon the lightest sounds, the lightest footsteps.

So when Shizuo had found him as he skipped class one day, and growled, breath heavy, after the beginning of their chase, "Why the fuck are you slipping? Finally gonna let me catch you, or are you mocking me, god damn flea?" Izaya couldn't conceal the shock on his face. He stared at Shizuo, forgetting his usual pompous mask of ridicule and arrogance, which caused Shizuo to start shifting uncomfortably as he tried to hide it. "The hell you staring at?"

Izaya pinched himself to snap out of it. He turned his wince into a smirking glare. "At a monster who can't keep himself out of my business." Shizuo's rage came rushing back, red coloring his face again. Whatever he noticed, if he actually did, he forgot. Izaya smirked, but his heart was beating furiously in his chest. Saying "monster" was enough to distract Shizuo—that simple minded fool.

Izaya clutched the bed sheets tightly. His breath grew heavier...his chest heaved and constricted. What could he do? What was there to do? He gripped tighter—this was too much. He was so weak. Always hiding, always running, always taunting. Never enough, never able to up and do what he really wanted... That was Shizuo. Everything Izaya ever wanted, ever wanted to be.

Why didn't he know that he might leave one day? No, he knew.

He just wouldn't admit it. He held on to a naive hope that maybe, just maybe, Shizuo would be bound to him forever like that, a cat and mouse chase.

.x.

They had kept running. Izaya was in front, laughing loudly for Shizuo to hear, but his face was contorted in pain. Shizuo chased close behind, shouting in frustration. Izaya thought he kept pretenses up and had Shizuo fooled, but he thought wrong. When he turned around to see if Shizuo was behind him—if he was still chasing him, Izaya almost came face to face with the blonde, both their eyes growing in shock. Shizuo had never gotten that close to Izaya before...so surely he had slowed down...damn his legs. Izaya quickly looked in front of him to make sure his jump was accurate, only to land on the edge of the rooftop and slip down. His heart pumped, and adrenaline rushed through his veins. Out of reflex, he turned towards Shizuo, automatically reaching his arms out for balance.

What Shizuo did surprised him.

The blonde immediately stretched his hand out and grabbed Izaya's wrist. His face was wrinkled in concentration...and could that possibly be concern?

Shizuo leaned over the roof, with Izaya dangling from his hand. Izaya, once he realized his position, grew terrified. Shizuo would drop him. If anything, he would pull him back up and wring his neck. Or he would...

Shizuo was pulling him back up, shouting something Izaya couldn't hear. Or maybe he did hear, but his brain didn't register it.

"Fucking flea! What do you think you're doing!? Are you trying to kill yourself?"

Izaya was confused. He had never seen Shizuo angry over him before, only ever because of him.

"Now what if I was? Wouldn't I be saving you some time and effort?"

Shizuo gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. "God damn it, answer my question! And quit twisting people's words around!"

Izaya shrugged. "You can kill me now; I can't run even if I wanted to." Despite the words coming out of his mouth, his hand gripped tighter onto Shizuo's. He trembled from the inside out.

Shizuo's glare froze on his face. Izaya's words made no sense. "What are you planning?"

Izaya willed himself to keep eye contact, despite the pain in his chest and throughout his body. He jumped a few steps back once his foot hit the roof again. "...I'm not planning anything." At Shizuo's look of suspicion, Izaya continued, "Are you going to kill me now, or are you letting me go? It's going to be your only chance."

They stared at each other for what seemed like an hour, but were really a few seconds, when Shizuo spun around in frustration, dented the railing, and stormed off.

.xx.

Izaya opened his eyes and stretched out his fingers. They hurt after how long he had gripped the sheets so tightly. He gingerly flipped to lie on his back, only to be interrupted by the ringing of his cellphone.

He groaned softly and reached his arm out. He slapped it around, trying to find the phone that was ringing. Finally, he pushed himself upright and looked around his room; he saw it on the far end of his drawers.

By the time he slipped out of bed and supported himself over with the help of the minimal furniture, the ringing had stopped.

The faint glow of the screen read:

Missed call (1): Shiki.

Izaya was about to call him back, before his thumb hesitated on the button and he snapped the phone shut. The screen's light hurt. He wasn't in the right condition to talk. Shiki wasn't dumb; he'd figure something was up.

When Izaya settled on the verge between being asleep and awake, his phone rang again, this time next to his ear. The ringing renewed his headache, and he had half a mind to chuck the thing out the window. But he couldn't. Before he answered it, the ringing stopped. In his groggy state, Izaya believed that the caller had to be Shiki, trying to reach him another time. It had to be. Shiki probably had an urgent job for him to do…

He finally fell asleep again.

Once more, his phone rang. As Izaya's eyelids reluctantly opened a slit, the sun had risen. Izaya groaned and flipped the device open, pushing it against his ear. What did Shiki want?

"Hello, Orihara speaking," he half mumbled into the receiver.

No one responded, and Izaya almost passed out again until he remembered that he was on the phone.

"Hello…?" He rolled onto his back and threw an arm across his forehead, trying to block some light from his eyes. "…Shiki-san?"

"Who the fuck is Shiki?" The voice was rough. Loud. Angry…

Izaya's eyes snapped open. What? "Hello?" was the only thing he could say. He mentally kicked himself.

On the other side of the line, Shizuo's forehead creased heavily. What the hell was he doing?

"Who gave you this number?" Izaya questioned suspiciously, drawing out each word and saying them beneath his breath.

"It doesn't matter," Shizuo replied, refusing to believe that he felt somewhat relieved that Izaya said something instead of hanging up. Why was he calling, anyways?

They both fell silent, but didn't end the call. Shizuo didn't know why he actually typed Izaya's number into his phone and dialed, but he did.

"If you don't need anything, then don't call me. My time is valuable," Izaya said, beginning to feel irritated. Nothing was making any sense.

When Shizuo didn't reply, Izaya hung up and dropped his phone to his side. He didn't want to think anymore. Maybe it would do him some good to be as stupid as those other humans.

Not more than a minute later, sound blasted from Izaya's phone again. He gritted his teeth and breathed deeply before he answered. "Hello, Orihara speaking."

"Don't fucking hang up on me!"

Izaya winced. "Please, calm down and don't shout." He wasn't in the mood.

Shizuo, behind the voice in the phone, clenched his eyes closed. This wasn't working well. He had the urge to call, but why, he had no idea. He slept fitfully last night, waking up at random hours and not fully losing consciousness. God damn Izaya. He never brought anything good.

This time, Izaya waited. He stayed on the line as long as Shizuo did, waiting for him to say something himself.

"Are you about dead yet?" Shizuo growled, successfully sounding as hateful as he usually did, but it nagged at him. Somehow, he wished it didn't come out so harsh.

Izaya bit his lip. He began to wonder if he was a masochist. Seriously, Shizuo actually thought to call him on the phone…and he felt happy he did, even though all Shizuo said was curse words.

"I'm sorry to disappoint, but I think I'll live." Izaya chuckled humourlessly. "I'll live in this twisted, hideous world." He wanted to fall asleep again, but having Shizuo on the phone seemed too good to be true…

Shizuo leaned against the wall. He actually was taking each and every word Izaya said in mind, though he wasn't doing it purposefully. It just happened. "Good—"

Izaya's heart clenched.

"—I said I'll take your life by my own hands."

"Haha," Izaya laughed—more like wheezed. He mumbled, "Go ahead and take it any time."

What? "What the fuck are you saying?"

Izaya sighed. "Good-bye." He closed his phone.

Shizuo stared at his phone, his anger boiling. The bastard dared to hang up on him twice. Twice. Then it hit him. Izaya never said his name once. He didn't even tease him, try to get on his nerves. Not one 'Shizu-chan.' He hated the unsettling feeling in his stomach. Why the fuck did he even care?

He shoved the device into his pocket and straightened his tie as he lifted his eyes onto the reflection in the mirror. Bags under his eyes were a normal occurrence, but today they just looked even more prominent. Shizuo scowled, remembering the reason behind his lack of sleep last night.

He flicked his lighter open and lit a cigarette, taking a long drag out of it and opened the door. The air was turning into a frosty cold, chilling to the bones. Shizuo didn't mind it. It helped keep his mind off of things, letting him walk down the street in a thoughtless stroll.

.

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To be continued...

(Feedback would be greatly appreciated!)