It was late in the evening when Shizuo crossed the threshold of Shinra's house, opening the door with the spare key the doctor gave him. He was greeted by the sepulchral atmosphere of a living room drenched with silent shadows. The plain wall in front of him was adorned only by the light of the window, an oversized, abstract painting. There wasn't any sign of life, aside from the faint tick from the clock that had just struck eleven. As he would expect at this hour, Shinra had already gone back to his own house. Shizuo wondered if the doctor was worried that his patient had spent the whole day outside.
After walking for hours, the soles of his feet felt sore and the aftertaste of adrenaline from the fight still lingered in his chest. At least, he had managed to find a work.
Tanaka Tom offered him a job as bartender in the pub he owned. Since Shizuo had never bartended before, Tom offered to help him tomorrow, teaching him the basics. The pay was ridiculously high for a starting salary; Shizuo swore Tom raised it out of sheer gratitude. Shizuo promised himself that he would try his best to keep his strength at bay, so as to not cause Tom problems.
He discarded the stained clothes in the laundry bin in the guest toilet. His nose turned up at the smell of blood and at the memory of those men's breath, stinking with alcohol. But more than everything, he flinched as those men's words echoed in his ears. Rage laced his chest, mingling with the sorrow in which his soul drowned.
Wearing only a pair of boxers, he stomped into the bedroom.
An eerie atmosphere reigned inside the room. Everything rested under a thick veil of darkness, in a stasis that seemed only apparent. Shizuo had the sensation there was something unsettling hidden in the dark, making the air heavier. He could almost smell something that didn't seem right, above the stench of blood still lingering in his nostrils like a phantom.
The brooding sky, framed in a window left slightly ajar, was the only source of light. Far in the distance, flashes of light scorched the backdrop of night, a precursor to a storm. A shiver ran up his spine when a blast of wind made the leaves outside swish and blew the white curtain up like a sail.
Shizuo shook his head, trying to convince himself it was just a conditioned response to the nightmarish surroundings.
He lay down under the sheets, on his back, and closed his eyes.
Fuck.
How was he supposed to fall asleep surrounded by the flea's smell?
Shizuo turned his head right and, even in the dim light, he recognized Izaya's frame. It was still partially covered with bandages, even if there were much less than this morning. His foe was asleep on his back, lips slightly parted. Shizuo could hear his breath, slow and deep.
A sudden question flashed in his mind - what's gonna happen when the flea will wake? Shizuo could bear his enemy's proximity as long as it was silent, but how could he contain his anger from destroying everything when Izaya would wake in all his usual, mocking glory? It made him anxious thinking how, with just a spark of wrath, he could open craters in the bedroom walls and floor, break the wardrobe, tear the sheets, shatter the window glass. His breath hitched in his throat as he imagined what Shinra's reaction would be.
He was on the razor's edge.
Would he be able to keep his temper at bay while in the constant presence of his sworn enemy?
His self-control had always vanished at the sound of Izaya's name; how was he supposed to avoid destroying anything while living with flea, dealing with him every day, sleeping in the same bed, eating the same food?
Shizuo wondered if he hadn't died because he was destined for this circle of hell while still living.
It was a cold comfort but, at least for the moment, he was aware he could rest. He would face the problem once Izaya was awake which, hopefully, wouldn't be for a few days, since his injuries were so bad. Right now, Shizuo was still too tired and broken to worry about the future.
A yawn escaped his lips.
Meanwhile, Izaya waited.
He waited, patiently, for a sign proving that the monster at his side had fallen asleep. It had been difficult to restrain himself from laughing when Shizuo had turned towards him a few minutes ago. Izaya had sensed his thoughts, Shizuo's preoccupation with destroying the house belonging to someone who had been so kind with him.
When Izaya finally heard the rhythm of Shizuo's breath slowing down, he turned, facing his enemy.
Blood-red eyes opened.
The monster was asleep on his back with arms bent near his head, bare chest expanding and contracting in wide waves. Izaya smirked as he recalled that those were the same arms which had held him in a tight, affectionate embrace and, later, had tried to kill him, failing. Even if Izaya had wracked his brain, he couldn't find out the reason why.
The idea that Shizuo had pitied him sneaked in his mind, but undermined his pride so much he immediately discarded it. How could someone pity him? He was handsome, well-mannered, rich. He had been told he was the smartest military strategist of their Era, his decisions were unquestionable. Sympathy implied someone looking down at his sorry state with emotional distance, believing themselves to be superior - to him?
Unacceptable.
Izaya was a rational person, but just thinking about such possibility made his blood boil in wrath. No, it can't be, he convinced himself. Shizu-chan is a monster, after all. And monsters surely can't be moved by pity, because their rage is pure, absolute, unbeaten.
The corners of Izaya's mouth quirked in a razor-sharp smile.
He hates me more than everything.
Izaya had convinced himself there must be a more plausible reason that had driven Shizuo to not only spare his life, but even save it. A voice raised from the depth of his mind, sneaking through his certainties to fill the voids between them like water, eroding, scraping, wrecking until it left something painfully similar to anger in his chest.
He doesn't hate you enough.
It was there, corroding his self-control, the fear that Shizuo could slip from his fingers and leave him alone in his obsession.
He hates our enemy more than you now. They tore his brother away from him, leaving him utterly alone. Or, perhaps, Shizuo now hates himself more than you. Think about it. Then, accept it: you're the God of his vengeful thoughts no more.
Ah, it's time that you accept that you're not the most important person to anyone anymore, in hate or love. As you can see, you're alone now. Trapped in this room unable to walk, injured-
-Pitiful.
Pale fingers twitched. They wanted violence, they craved the monster's genuine hatred.
Izaya hissed when he shifted his weight to straddle the sleeping man. But the sparks of pain from his injured knee and wrists were secondary compared to the need to regain his throne as ruler of Shizuo's thoughts. Even concerns for his own safety flew from his mind in pursuit of this one goal. His movements weren't catlike as before, but still, he tried to be as silent as possible when he replicated the exact position Shizuo had taken when he had tried to choke him. Izaya felt the inhuman body heat across his inner thighs, penetrating through his pajama pants, and blonde strands tickling the back of his hands.
He eagerly watched the loathsome face that lay a few inches under his.
Droplets of cold sweat trickled down his forehead while he waited for a reaction from his foe but, luckily, Shizuo was already in a deep sleep; hazel eyes still lay under silky eyelids and his lips were parted, breathing in and out, in a slow rhythm. Izaya lowered his face even more in order to fully savor the view of his archenemy, defenseless under him, as an insane smirk deformed his features.
Izaya stretched his left arm to bury it under his own pillow. A moment later, he pulled out a kitchen knife, the same one he had tried to use today to eat dinner.
Izaya had awoken when the sun was already set, alone in a bed that smelled faintly of disinfectants. He immediately took notice of the bandages across his body, especially his legs. A sting of pain from his injured wrists greeted him as he sat on the bed. His limbs hurt, like there was still fire and gunpowder eating his flesh. He wondered if the fire hadn't managed to spoil his legs, if his skin was still smooth to the touch and translucent ivory in color. From the flame-bright pain boiling under the gauze, probably not. But the burns will fade, like the wound on my knee...
...Right?
Somewhere between an hour and an Era, Shinra came to visit him. Despite the fact that the doctor seemed eager to talk with him, Izaya's mouth was so dry it made him utter nothing more than his own name. Shinra removed many bandages from his body, but the ones on his legs were still there, menacingly thick. Izaya would have never believed that one day he would feel so frightened by apparently innocuous spirals of gauze. He didn't ask Shinra how long it would take for him to be completely healed and he was thankful from the bottom of his heart that the doctor didn't tell him, either. The doctor just prepared him dinner, and Izaya asked for a knife with the excuse to cut the sandwich into smaller slices.
Thanks a lot, Shinra.
Biting his lower lip to avoid a cry of pain as he put pressure on his wounded knee and sprained wrists, he brought the knife to the blonde's neck. Adrenaline increased his heartbeat, while he traced the blade along the tanned expanse of skin, piercing it only slightly. In the dim, the blood dripping out looked pitch black.
It fit a monster perfectly.
Hypnotized, the scarlet gaze followed the droplet of blood sliding down his enemy's neck.
Outside the window, the wind blew with growing intensity, howling and shaking the foliage. Without warning, the summer storm began to rage. Resounding raindrops began to drum on the window's glass and on the wooden floor. Inside the dark room, though, Izaya was enraptured, and he perceived only Shizuo's breath and the lazy flowing of a single blood drop. His gaze followed the bead of red until it nestled on the blonde's collarbone, leaving behind a thin, black trail.
Red eyes opened and gleamed as though possessed, as the grip on the knife became firmer, puncturing deeper the skin, until more dark drops gushed out, staining the pillow. He pushed more, in the desperate need to carve his own image into Shizuo once again, even deeper than before, so that the monster would never forget him. His gaze shifted from the wound and shifted back to check the other's face, looking for a reaction. He found none - the deep cut was, for Shizuo, nothing more than a caress.
Izaya's eyes narrowed to slits, while he tilted his head to one side out of curiosity. Now that he noticed it, on his enemy's face there was such an interesting expression. Through his binoculars, Izaya had managed to catch a glimpse of the whole range of expressions that could cross Shizuo's features, even if it was just a matter of milliseconds before Shizuo's inhuman perception sensed Izaya scorching his flesh with his scarlet gaze. But, from such proximity and without glass lenses as filters, Izaya was used to see Shizuo's features deformed only with rage. Now, the look on his nemesis' face was almost-
The thought blended in his mind.
Corners of his mouth relaxed as the grip on the knife loosened. The blade slipped from his fingers, staining them with his monster's blood before it fell on the sheets. Of their own accord, his hand lifted. Fingertips, barely heavier than a breath of wind, drew red trails from Shizuo's cheekbone to his parted lips, marking him.
Izaya's mind was now a blank canvas.
In the instant he reached the corner of Shizuo's mouth, a flash of light brightened the room. Immediately after resounded the thunderclap, so loud that the window frame slammed against the wall, glass creaking with impact.
Izaya closed his eyes shut. Frightened by the sudden loud noise, his heart hammered in his ribcage, so fast he could perceive its beat drumming in his ears. It was the fast, pulsating sound of fear, as a rush of blood mingled with panic flowed in his head. Once it had slowed down, he opened his eyes.
He found his own face mirrored in wide open, hazel eyes.
A flinch, then a giggle, and finally a hysteric laugh escaped Izaya's mouth. He braced himself for the blow while he admired the way Shizuo's features changing from genuine shock to pure anger, as soon as he took notice of the bleeding wound on his neck.
Here it comes... This! This is my monster!
He hates me, he hates me so much! More than he hates – or loves – anything else.
When Shizuo roughly shoved him away, Izaya kept laughing like a mad man, tears numbing his eyes. His laugh died on his lips, however, when his head and back hit the cold wall. A sting of pain blurred his vision and he soon found that his lungs hurt too much to breathe. However, the former strategist didn't let the smirk fade from his face when he spotted the beastlifting the wooden wardrobe, ready to throw it at him. Because it was the proof he craved for, that nothing had changed between him and Shizuo.
He kept grinning. The confirmation that Shizuo still loathed him was right in front of his eyes. Shizuo didn't pitied him, not at all. Through the sharp pain numbing his view, Izaya narrowed his eyes and tried to focus the livid blonde: blood dripped from the cut on his neck to his bare chest, marked by a thin, long scar.
His.
Shizuo was his, he always had been.
"IIIIIZAAAAYAAAA!"
Scarlet eyes opened impossibly wide.
Shizuo's yell hit him with an impact even stronger than a wooden wardrobe could have. It was so disappointing - as it wasn't driven by anger anymore, but just by pure desperation. It let Izaya know that he couldn't delude himself anymore: this shout wasn't his monster's usual one.
Izaya's fingers trembled as a realization overwhelmed him: it wasn't only the voice that was different. It was Shizuo himself who wasn't the same anymore. Beautiful hazel eyes were reddened with dried tears, rimmed by dark circles. They weren't burning and overwhelmed by hate, as usual. Something more powerful that their mutual hatred made them shine, now. His monster was broken, weak, even if he could lift a whole wardrobe alone. Shizuo looked like a cornered beast, irremediably shattered by someone who wasn't Izaya himself.
It was heartbreaking, and Izaya refused to accept it.
He had never managed to break his monster to such extent. Somehow, their bond of hate had become thinner and thinner, until it vanished into the air.
"Finish what you have started, monster!" he screeched, until he had emptied his lungs. He wondered if Shizuo had perceived the discrepancy between the desperation in his shout and the daring smirk still tensing his lips. All his plans for Shizuo seemed nothing more than ashes in his blood stained hands. He felt broken. The enemy hadn't only come close to simply killing him, hadn't just defeated him on his own strategic field, taken away his soldiers, his career, and reduced him a pitiful, scarred man not even able to walk by himself anymore. No, not only that; to add insult to injury, the enemy had taken away Shizu-chan. Red eyes widened, his own deductions clenched his heart.
Shizuo hates someone more than me.
Shizuo gathered momentum. Izaya braced himself for the deadly blow, lifting his bandaged hands in an instinctive attempt to protect himself. The idea of his own imminent death left a sour taste in his mouth that was even bitter with the awareness of his own loneliness and utter failure. Because, despite his efforts to strengthen their bond of mutual hatred, the thread had been cut. Now, there was no way Shizuo would come back to him. Once hate gave way to indifference, Shizuo's obsession for him would disappear like it had never existed. Izaya tasted it, the tang of rejection. Once again.
But still, his rational self refused to surrender.
There must still be a way. I've always found the way to make him hate me more and more-
At one step from becoming nothing, Izaya realized all wasn't lost.
Even if his monster wasn't the same anymore, even if Shizuo hated someone more than him, there was still a possibility. If Shizuo succeeded in killing him, it wouldn't all be lost. Izaya's death wouldn't be vain, because would finally seal the word monster to every cell composing Shizuo's body. There would be no escape for him but accept his nature.
Despite his violent habits, Shizuo had never killed anyone in his whole life. Killing Izaya would be his regret.
Shizuo would hate his memory until his last breath, more than the enemy that killed his little brother, with even more force than love. Shizuo would remember Izaya's existence because it would be the first (and probably last) one the monster ended with his own hands. He would remember him, maybe even mourn him, until his arch-enemy would become his god.
So be it.
Izaya lowered the hands shielding him to his sides.
"Do it. Do it, beast."
Shizuo was already on verge of throwing the wardrobe at the other's injured body. It seemed pretty heavy, Izaya thought, it was probably made with a high-quality hardwood. He had to make sure to provoke Shizuo so he would throw the wardrobe with his maximum strength. That way, hopefully he would die on impact; otherwise, it would be even more painful, adding additional injuries on top of the ones he already had. Surviving would only reduce him to a more pitiful state than the one he was in now. So, the strategist let his insane, scornful laugh resound in the room.
Shizuo roared and Izaya knew that in moments he would be dead.
He smirked.
You know, Shizu-chan... With this, every doubt regarding your humanity will be swept away from both of us.
Heartbeat increased, hands closed in fists as he braced himself for bearing the immense pain of bones, flesh, life being squashed before his soul would drown into nothingness. But still, despite the fact that his death was for the best, there was a infinitesimal part of him which still couldn't accept this, that he hadn't managed to find a way to distinguish himself in death from humans, to prove his superiority.
In his wildest dreams, Izaya envisioned immortality.
He had even searched for it in his spare time, combing both dusty libraries for centuries old legends, and aseptic rooms for advanced medical research. He found fancy old stories without even an ounce of scientific basis and anti-wrinkle treatments which could only erase the flowing of time from his outer self. For his soul, his core, his rational thinking, however, he found nothing. Now, Izaya realized it was too late to follow such a dream. But still, red eyes were open, daring, locked with hazel ones for the last time. After all, he was denying the remote possibility of an eternal life for something he desired almost equally. Even if it was far from the glory of immortality, it was still a glimmer of life after death, wasn't it? It would fade, along with Shizuo, but it would devour the monster from the inside. Shizuo always said Izaya was a bloodsucking flea, a parasite. Perhaps he had been. Perhaps, he would become one that leeched off of Shizuo's very spirit.
Even if my soul dies here, my memory will haunt you, Shizuo. I will destroy, mercilessly, the exoskeleton you have instead of skin, I will extinguish the sparks in your eyes and every hope for a different tomorrow. I will take nourishment from your desperation and fears, leaving you spoiled, nothing more than the shadow of the man you were - pitiful as I am.
Ah.
Everything ends here.
-Or not?
Suddenly, the door opened and a panting Shinra made his appearance.
The doctor had just exited his own house when he had heard loud voices coming from the bedroom of his father's house, where now lived the two men he had saved in the wild lands. Furthermore, the window was open, even with the storm raging. He needed to close it, otherwise his patients might catch a cold. So he decided to check in on them. He had to ask Shizuo if he was feeling all right, too, since his patient had been wandering outside for the whole day. Once he had arrived on the threshold, his eyes widened in surprise. Words died in the back of his throat, while he tried to process, as fast as possible, what was happening inside the room. What the hell, are they trying to kill each others? the doctor wondered. But instinct took over, and Shinra lifted his hand to stop the blonde from throwing the wardrobe.
"Wait..."
His voice came out weak, barely audible. However, Izaya must have heard it since he immediately looked at the doctor. Shizuo, on the other hand, was so lost in his rage he hadn't even noticed that the door at his back had opened.
Without dwelling on the consequences, Shinra approached Shizuo.
"Shizuo-kun, wait-"
The blonde turned suddenly, and so did the wardrobe he was on verge of throwing. A loud thump echoed in his ears when wood met flesh. When Shizuo understood, it was already too late. Shinra sunk to his knees, in pain, holding his head in both his hands.
Shizuo felt his heart drop.
He put down the wardrobe, and knelt down near the doctor, to check how seriously he had injured him. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." he kept whispering. While he drowned in shame and anger, Shizuo berated himself, wondering how he could had been so fucking stupid, to let his hatred for Izaya harm an innocent man, one who had been so kind to him.
Meanwhile, at Shizuo's back, the raven-haired man's lips were still curled in the trademark smirk that only grew across his face at the sight of his monster drowning in self-hatred of Izaya's creation.
Shinra managed to walk away with just a superficial cut and a bump.
Helped by Shizuo, the doctor went downstairs in the kitchen, where he let the blonde disinfect and apply an instant ice pack to the swelling on his head. Not a single word escaped either the soldier or the doctor's mouths as an odd silence reigned between them, interrupted only by the swish of wind and the pouring rain outside.
While he carefully taped a swab of cotton soaked in disinfectant over the cut, Shizuo realized he could no longer keep the truth hidden. Shinra deserved to know that Shizuo couldn't be categorized as human, with this damned unrestrained strength of his; he needed to be told that he had welcomed into his house someone who had always been defined a monster, capable only of bringing destruction.
From the irregular rhythm and frequent pauses of the cotton ball pressing to his head, the doctor perceived the other man was deep in thought.
"It's okay, you didn't mean to hurt me," the doctor uttered with a calm voice. Then he lifted his gaze to look at Shizuo, trying to read what was hidden in hazel irises. "Your neck is bleeding, can I treat your wound once you've finished with mine?"
Shizuo shook his head, slowly.
"Don't worry, I'll think about it later. But… I need to explain something about me."
Shinra smiled, and for a second Shizuo swore that the doctor's grey eyes glistened with anticipation, but in a flash the emotion was gone.
"I know. Don't worry, just do it when you're ready."
"Tomorrow."
While Shizuo was applying the instant cold pack to the swelling, Shinra suddenly smacked his own forehead and shouted:
"Izaya-kun!"
Shizuo was baffled.
"What - you know his name?!"
"Yeah, he told me today when he woke up. But Izaya-kun is injured! I saw he was on the ground, he might have fallen and hit his head. I have to go upstairs, now!"
But as soon as he stood up, Shinra heard Shizuo talking, his voice deep and firm.
"Leave it to me."
"Huh?"
"I mean, you've already done enough for us and you're injured - you're still bleeding. Let me do it."
"Are you sure?"
Shizuo nodded.
"Okay… I'll go back home to check if I need stitches – the equipment I need is at home - and I'll come back as soon as possible. Keep an eye on Izaya though, if he looks or feels strange it could be internal bleeding. Don't make him fall asleep until I'll be back."
Shinra headed towards the front door. Here, Shizuo saw him picking up a flashlight and an umbrella with the hand that wasn't holding the instant ice pack on his forehead. Why does he need a flashlight? Doesn't he live in the house next door? Shizuo wondered. But he didn't want to sound rude, so he kept curiosity at bay, and his own mouth shut.
Before Shinra closed the behind him, the bespectacled man turned his head toward the former soldier.
"Please, take care of Izaya!"
"...I will. Sorry again."
"No worries! But please, don't try to kill each other ever again! See you later!"
After the door closed, Shizuo didn't turn to go upstairs, not yet. He stood still, his gaze blank.
He asked himself if it was possible to sink even more in despair than he already had. The flea woke and instantly his worst fears had come true. What he was supposed to do now? His fingers were already closed into fists, tugging at his dyed strands, when a possible solution flashed in his mind like a lightning.
He took the first aid kit from the kitchen table, and went back to their room.
Izaya was still there, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, right where Shizuo had left him. He still found it hard to believe that tiny frame was the same man he hadn't been able to catch even once over so many years. On the pale, thin face, still lingered thesmirk of superiority he loathed from the instant he had seen it. In this moment, however, Shizuo realized that instead of being annoying, it reminded him of a grotesque theatrical mask, a caricature of what Izaya's mocking face looked like before that night.
"Hahaha, so fun, so fun! Shizu-chan is going to take care of me instead of trying to kill me?"
Their bedroom's window was just over the main door, and Izaya had found it easy to eavesdrop on every word Shinra and the monster had exchanged on the threshold, even with the storm raging. He wondered if hitting the doctor because of Izaya's taunting had succeeded in provoking the anger he wanted to see from Shizuo. The monster who chased him with fierce passion would have lost it for sure.
Red eyes followed the half-naked blonde crossing the room with heavy steps. The medical kit fell on the ground with a loud thump, missing Izaya for so much it didn't leave space to the possibility the monster had undershot the target. Shizuo knelt right in front of him, brows knitted, the corners of his mouth lowered.
Perhaps, he just need a little extra provocation.
"By the way, you're such a beast, Shizu-chan! Poor Shinra, you don't spare even the one who saved your life-"
"Shut up, louse. Be quiet and let me see."
Before Izaya could reply with a sarcastic statement, he felt Shizuo's fingers probing their way through black locks. They weren't gentle, at all, moving in rough jerks. But still, it didn't hurt overly much, so Izaya gathered that Shizuo was trying his best to keep his strength under control. Why are you holding back? You know there's no need to do it. Not with me.
Why you don't want to kill me, Shizu-chan?
When fingertips brushed the small bump on the back of his head, Izaya couldn't help but hiss. But he couldn't say for certain that it was from pain or from a final blow shattering his pride to tiny smithereens. Shizuo considered him such a pitiful opponent he didn't even use his whole strength anymore.
Without apologizing, Shizuo pulled away the strands that surrounded the swelling, leaning closer to check if there was a cut on the skin.
Izaya shut his eyes and bit his lower lip. Even if Shizuo's touch was too heavy and rough on the bump, he wouldn't let a single sound of pain escape his mouth, god forbid! His features relaxed when the blonde finally distanced himself to search for a cold pack. However, once the raven's eyes opened again, his body stiffened.
So close.
He is so close. I can smell him.
Izaya remembered the way he had he had basked in that smell for an indefinite amount of time, during which he had lost and regained consciousness over and over again.
He couldn't restrain himself from gazing at the monster's tanned chest and stomach, both strengthened and toned by years in the army. With every movement, his muscles rippled under the skin, and Izaya hated himself for how much he wanted to touch him, and to be touched in return.
"Oi! Still alive, flea?"
Izaya lifted his head, realizing that Shizuo was now keeping the cold pack still with one hand and was looking down at him. He was so lost in thought that he had barely noticed the cold sensation on the back of his head. Shizuo's cheek was still dirty with the trails of blood Izaya's fingers had drawn, and more crimson liquid dripped from the cut on his neck. It seemed the monster didn't care at all what Izaya had just done to him. Scarlet eyes widened in surprise once the raven finally grasped the meaning of the words the blonde had said. They annihilated every doubt, every hope - the Shizuo he knew, the monster who reciprocated his obsession, had died, swallowed by the blaze.
He will never come back.
"If you feel strange let me know, since you hit the head. If you feel like puking, or you're drowsy, don't behave like the annoying flea you are, and tell me. I just have to hold the ice pack still for a bit more, so you'll be fine soon," Shizuo muttered under his breath. "Aaaah, whatever!" he uttered in the end, turning his head in annoyance because not only did Izaya not respond, but to add insult to injury, also kept staring at him with shocked red eyes.
"When we finish here, you're going to sleep, louse! And also, don't you fucking dare go pissing me off again with your dirty tricks!"
His voice was a deep, resolute rumble, the concept accentuated by the finger he jabbed into Izaya's face. In reply, the latter's features gradually hardened into a spiteful smirk.
"Or what, Shizu-chan?" Izaya chirped, without bothering to hide the amusement in his voice. He took his time to savor how anger made hazel eyes gleam in a killer glare. It was fearful of course, but immensely exciting - no... It was nostalgic. However, even if rage was showing through the beast's body language, it didn't flow into action; Shizuo kept the ice pack on the bump.
"Izaya. I want that you listen carefully what I have to say."
As he talked, the blonde grabbed the smaller man's left shoulder with his free hand, and lowered his head so they were face to face. He locked his eyes with scarlet ones that narrowed to slits with curiosity. Izaya opened his mouth to reply with stinging sarcasm, but Shizuo interrupted him.
"Izaya, you know I hate you. I hate you so fucking much you can't even imagine. Every inch of me wants to beat the shit out of you. But I can't do it now. I can't do it here."
Shizuo lifted his hand from Izaya's shoulders, and began to violently run it through his hair. Hazel eyes were clenched, as he tried to force out the words he had in mind. However, those syllables seemed unable to leave his lips. In the end, the blonde shouted:
"Damn it! What I'm asking for is a truce!"
Silence.
Just the sound of pouring rain, and the swish of leaves in the wind.
"I agree only if you promise me just a single thing."
Shizuo opened his eyes, and in front of him there was a man he couldn't recognize. There wasn't even the hint of a smirk on that pale face: Izaya was dead serious. He tried to ask for explanation, but only incomprehensible fragments of words managed to leave his mouth.
Still, Izaya understood what Shizuo was trying to ask him: Why are you accepting a truce so easily? Why aren't you mocking me? Why are you so serious?
What should I promise you, Izaya?
"Would you promise me you'll kill me once we leave this place?"
Shizuo's eyebrows darted high, and he wasn't aware he was holding his breath until his lungs started to hurt. He was so baffled it took him some moments to recover from the shock. Izaya waited for an answer with an unperturbed expression on his face.
Meanwhile, the summer storm had passed, leaving only thin drops on the window as a memento to its existence. In silence, they trailed down the transparent surface, merging one with another, accelerating and slowing down as though they had been given life. In the utter silence, Shizuo could almost hear them sliding on the glass, the same way he could almost hear the flutter of Izaya's eyelashes.
In the end, Shizuo nodded. He would have shaken hands with Izaya, but his right hand was busy holding the ice. Instinctively, Shizuo's left hand searched for Izaya's right one that laid on the ground.
Izaya breathed a sigh of surprise when Shizuo's fingertips brushed his palm, because the touch was warm, dry, electric. When Shizuo squeezed his pale fingers in his own, Izaya didn't reciprocate. He just looked down at their awkward twining of fingers.
With a last squeeze, Shizuo let him go.
It wasn't quite a handshake, but still, their pact was sealed.
A/N: Thanks to my beta, Aira Kay!
