Izaya just couldn't comprehend the reason for interest in such a constant landscape, forsaken by human beings - an infinite row of wooded hills at his left, the sea rimmed by a thin strip of sand at his right, enveloped in an utter silence broken only by the bustle of seagulls, the sound of waves, and wheels rolling on asphalt. The scenery had been the same since the well refined buildings of the village centre became farmstead, then lone houses, and finally abandoned shacks, until trees engulfed every trace of human constructions except the road under his feet. The smell of tar burned by the midday sun clogged his nostrils along with the saltiness carried by the air and the stink of smoke. He turned up his nose at the stench.

As soon as he had been distanced from the shadows projected by the rows of houses and people's voice, a sense of unease nestled in his chest, making his fingers twitch across the coarse leather of the armrest. It wasn't a feeling unknown to his heart; he diagnosed it as nostalgia for the traffic-congested lanes that offered a full display of different behaviors and personalities. Here, as far as his eyes could see, there was nothing worth his interest, nothing to distract him from self-analysis until the road turned, disappearing behind a peninsula.

Assuming the discomfort must have been induced by boredom, Izaya imposed calm on his thoughts and racing pulse. There was no justification for the grip he felt on his heart and the shiver running down his spine, as though his instincts had sensed something his eyes had not. In his mind, he repeated that there was nothing ominous in the surroundings - no menacing clouds on the horizon, no waves that could reach him and make him drown, no soldiers with rifles ready to kill him.

There were just hills, the sea, and the road.

There's nothing dangerous here. I'm safe.

And yet, he couldn't shake off the sensation that traveling through this place felt like being on another planet, a linear, infinite world made of lack of time and infinite solitude. His beloved humans were miles, light years, parsecs at his back - there was a cosmic void between him and them now.

He wanted to go back.

Rational thoughts were slippery, faint like whispers compared to his instinct screeching that his life was in danger.

He needed to go back.

"Shizu-chan?" he asked, turning his head just enough to see a tanned hand holding the handlebar of the wheelchair where he sat, to test if the other man was still right behind him.

"Hmm?"

"Where are we going?"

Izaya waited for an answer but, for a long instant, from behind him came only the sound of sneakers on asphalt and exhalations of puffs of smoke.

In the end, a quiet voice replied: "I would like to discover it."

Even if Shizuo had given a name to their destination, that wouldn't have changed anything. Because Izaya couldn't understand his words anymore, already unable to focus on anything else beside the deafening sound of his heartbeat echoing in his skull, turning his orderly thoughts into white noise. When the pounding of his heart began hammering at his ribcage, squeezing oxygen out of his lungs, his fingers clutched the shirt he wore, trying to break skin, flesh and bone to let air flow freely in and out of his chest. He would die, he was sure of it, because he couldn't remember how to breathe anymore or, perhaps, in this world there wasn't air to breathe anymore, just a void so cold it left his body and mind a shivering mess.

Wheels stopped turning and he realized he couldn't escape. The infinite space, the silence around him only increased the sense of asphyxiation. He couldn't run, he could only wait for something - no, for the fire to reach him.

Echoes of the primordial fear of death he had felt the night of the attack resurfaced in his mind, shutting out the voice of rationality he was desperately clinging to. When memories blended with reality, even the space surrounding him began to melt with his delusions. Indeed, he perceived Shizuo, kneeling in front of him, as merely an interference in the void that had taken the place of air, then as a flash of yellow across the grey line defining the world where he was trapped, and then, finally, as a sign of his imminent death, because the monster had come back to kill him. Izaya flattened his back against the wheelchair seat, trying to distance himself from the blond monster; from the depths of his mind, the sensation of Shizuo's palm and fingers squashing his windpipe, Shizuo's husky voice murmuring what he was going to do with him, Shizuo's breath on his earlobe, all resurfaced.

Izaya closed his eyes and braced himself for flame-bright pain, overwhelming fear, lack of control.

However, this time, Shizuo didn't reach for him. Hands of steel didn't close on Izaya's neck, and even if they had, it wouldn't have changed anything, anything, anything. Because he was choking all the same, out of control in the same way. He just couldn't-

"Izaya."

The sound of his name came too loud, his hearing suddenly oversensitive, and the palms of his hands lifted to cover his ears, only to close into fists on his chest again, head lowering, shoulders hunching, in too much pain from the lack of oxygen.

This is not one of my nightmares, this is not my past, this is not my mind.

This is reality.

"Izaya, just breathe."

I can't.

"Your chest hurt because you're holding your breath. Breathe."

"Not here," he whispered, so faintly Shizuo had to lean closer to hear him.

"Is it fine if I touch you?" Shizuo asked him, softly.

Izaya gave the barest hint of a nod. Immediately, Shizuo took him in his arms and slowly lifted him. Izaya jolted at the contact, and then then, with eyes closed shut, he curled his fingers across Shizuo's shirt, hiding his face in the crook of the other's neck when the jarring from Shizuo's body as he moved made the surroundings seem even more terrifying. Izaya found himself mirroring Shizuo in the shallowness of breath, in his muscles tensing, in the beads of sweat on his forehead and back.

He didn't feel safer now, he wasn't out of danger yet, and his mind could do nothing to prove his instinct was wrong, so he kept shivering, even though Shizuo wasn't moving anymore right now. They sat, somewhere, the darkness surrounding them.

Shizuo's hold was loose across Izaya's waist, though he turned the smaller man so he rested with his back against Shizuo's larger chest. He just supported Izaya without hugging him, keeping the lithe, shivering frame between his parted legs. Shizuo didn't tightened the hold, as though he had somehow understood that Izaya couldn't stand being squeezed now or, perhaps, it was just too awkward, a too intimate and affectionate gesture to share with a former enemy.

Shizuo's breath was calm, despite his frantic heartbeat. Izaya tried to inhale and exhale like him, struggling to imitate the regular rise and fall of his chest. At first, he only managed to breathe so fast his head spun or so slowly his chest hurt. It took him an incalculable amount of Shizuo's breaths, and an even greater amount of his heartbeats, to get in sync with the blond. The sensation of air in his lungs was enough to heal the trembling aches all over his body and to awake the rationality sleeping under the adrenaline induced by fear.

Izaya still had his eyes screwed shut and buried in the blonde's neck, but that didn't prevent him from sensing the slight tension in Shizuo's arms, hands, and voice when he made Izaya drink water from one of the plastic bottles they bought with Shinra's money. Shizuo was strangely attentive, at first only allowing water to skim Izaya's lips, then making him drink only a little sip each time. He didn't speak or growl when Izaya grabbed the bottle and tilted it up to drink more, only to choke a moment later, fresh liquid trailing down his neck as he coughed. Shizuo didn't snort; instead, he dried Izaya's chin with his thumb. His fingers twitched slightly but he was quiet, just breathing and moving without any sudden actions, as though he had understood they would scare Izaya.

Gradually, fear disappeared. When Izaya regained control over his own body and mind, he found that he still couldn't open his eyes; his eyelids felt too heavy, his limbs worn out, his mind so exhausted that sleep overcame him before he could decipher where Shizuo had carried him.

When his eyes finally opened, he found himself unable to determine how long he had slept.

Above him, there was a clear blue sky framed by leaves. The calm rhythm of someone else's breath across his own back had been replaced with the sound of waves, and the arms embracing him were now warm grains of sand. To his right, a man sat cross-legged, holding a cigarette between his index and middle finger. His brows were knitted, the corners of his mouth lowered and blond hair messy, as if he had ruffled it over and over. The light shone off his sunglasses, concealing whatever his eyes were looking at. Despite the numbness, Izaya groaned:

"You look ridiculous, Shizu-chan."

Sunrays caught in the man's hair, turning pale yellow into gold when he turned his head sideways to exhale a puff of smoke. Looking unconcerned by Izaya's words, the blonde's voice was calm when he muttered:

"Izaya, has... that already happened to you-?"

"I can't stand so much sun," Izaya interrupted him, lifting himself to sit properly. "That's all. No need to inform Shinra. Well, feel free to tell him if you wanna be scolded harshly, since you brought his patient on a road trip in the middle of nowhere."

Shizuo muttered something under his breath that Izaya didn't catch, because at that moment, the bright light reflecting from sand and sea blinded him, making him hiss. It looked like Shizuo had brought him to the seaside, deserted since the village was miles away. When Izaya's eyes adapted to the light, he found that the angle allowed him to see through Shizuo's sunglasses.

Under light-blue shades, Shizuo's eyes weren't on him.

Izaya turned to follow Shizuo's gaze and he discovered it was fixed on the asphalt road they had been walking on, resting above the seven and something feet sheer slope at Izaya's back. More precisely, hazel eyes were directed at the point where the road disappeared beyond a peninsula. Every now and then, Shizuo lowered his head to the vinyl bag he held between his crossed legs, but his gaze always came back to the road; at first only through his bangs, then he tilted his face up, as if he couldn't focus on anything else besides that infinite line of asphalt. As transparent as Shizuo was, it didn't prove to be difficult for Izaya to read his thoughts:

"I wonder where the road leads. What is there, beyond that peninsula? And beyond the next one? How much would I have to walk to reach something?"

Before Izaya chastised himself for wasting time pondering what could be in the protozoan's head, he wondered if Shizuo was just curious, or if he felt bound by the inability to reach a target, in this case the end of the road they were walking through (despite the fact that if he kept walking, he would have discovered where the road led for sure). Perhaps Shizuo felt he was stuck in a dreamlike delusion, like Izaya before, doubting there would be an end to this road connecting the village with the outside world.

The irony of fate was that Izaya knew the answer to Shizuo's troubles. Once he woke from the hallucinations he had before he fell asleep, Izaya remembered he had seen where the road led in the maps he consulted to plan strategic attacks, and the land had immediately lost all of the surreal aura that made him believe there would never be an end to it. Even if he could give Shizuo an answer, he decided to not say anything, not out of spite, but because that was an answer Shizuo had to discover with his own eyes.

Suddenly, a movement of air in front of him caught his attention.

Eat, the outstretched, tanned arm seemed to say, as it handed him out one of the two sandwiches they bought in the minimart hours before. As he observed a moment later, the other one had already half-disappeared in Shizuo's mouth.

"Thanks."

Shizuo didn't answer. His gaze went back to alternating from the visible portions of road to on his crossed legs. This time, it wasn't out of embarrassment, like this morning on the shower; it was just a quiet warning to let him alone with his thoughts. So they ate in silence, exchanging short glances whenever Shizuo checked if Izaya's injured wrists could stand the food's weight.

When they both finished their meal, Shizuo passed him the crossword magazine along with a pencil, and lay down on the sand, facing the sun with arms crossed under his head. Izaya caught the instant when eyelashes fluttered with somnolence before his eyes closed, unconcerned by the over-illumination.

Izaya chuckled when he heard a faint snore, and focused his attention on the magazine he held on his lap. While he flipped through the monochromatic pages, he thought that it wasn't so bad, relaxing doing crosswords in the shade of a tree.

Suddenly, sloppy pencil marks caught his attention.

His head tilted to one side and brows furrowed in irritation, because he had just noticed his magazine had already been used by someone else. Red eyes scanned every puzzle in each page just to realize that there was just one game solved.

Children's corner: Connect the dots


After he solved whole pages of crosswords and filed his nails with the tool in the children's knife Shizuo gave him, Izaya decided to wake his monster. His wrists hurt, the shade had shifted and he was starting to get annoyed by the sensation of sand in his clothes. He missed their room back in the village. It didn't matter if Shizuo said he looked creepy and reminded him of the movie Rear Window - sitting near the window was a perfect place to observe humans.

Izaya cleared his throat, but Shizuo didn't wake.

"Shizu-chan?"

Nothing at all.

"Shizu-chaaaaan?"

Shizuo inhaled deeply and muttered incomprehensible words under his breath, something Izaya recognized as an apology. Then, hazel eyes opened and he groaned,

"What the hell do you want, fucking flea?"

"Eeeeh, Shizu-chan, right after you wake up you're even less polite than usual!"

"Fuck you," Shizuo drawled as he stretched his limbs. "How longer have I slept?"

"I don't know, an hour and a half? Perhaps we should buy a watch. Or, better, a phone! Ah, binoculars are a must have as well-"

"Damn, I have to go to work," Shizuo interrupted him, his hands ruffling blond strands to wipe away the sand with the leftovers of the drowsiness. Then, with a jerk, Shizuo stood up and moved toward the wheelchair, which was situated by Izaya. The fabric of his shirt stretched around his shoulders and back when he climbed the slope with jumps and big steps, carrying the wheelchair with one hand and the vinyl bag with the other.

As Izaya observed him, he thought it was odd watching Shizuo's fast movements from another perspective than the one he was used to – from behind, instead of in the midst of pursuit. It made him feel nostalgic.

Izaya heard him opening the wheelchair and then coming down the slope. In seconds, Shizuo was at his back.

"You alright?"

"Eh? Ah, yes..."

Shizuo knelt down at his side and grabbed both of Izaya's elbows, in order to wrap them around his own neck. A shiver ran down Izaya's spine when bleached hair tips tickled his arms and he smelled the scent of sun-drenched skin.

"Now I'm gonna lift you, okay?"

Izaya nodded. Right now, the contact between them was intimate, but Izaya knew there wasn't a single hint of malice in Shizuo's gesture. He wasn't searching for the touch of Izaya's body against his own; every apparently affectionate action he made, like carrying and comforting him like before, was purely out of kindness. Izaya was aware there was a more fitting word, pity, but he refused to accept it, he couldn't even think about it without feeling his heart shattered. He rested his head on the crook of Shizuo's neck, and his eyes closed when one tanned arm passed under bent knees and another encircled his back. Shizuo lifted him with absolutely no effort, holding him tight as he took a run-up to climb the slope.

Even without using his arms, Shizuo's balance was firm, his steps confident despite the incline and the slippery soil. Izaya wasn't surprised. After years during which Shizuo had to measure himself against Izaya's superior agility and speed during their chases, the monster had learnt how to not miscalculate a step if he wanted to keep pace with the smaller man.

What Izaya felt wasn't nostalgia anymore, but the sensation of bandages across his wrists, and the weight of gauze covering his once flawless skin. Memories of thrilling chases blended to the awareness of the pain induced by Shizuo's hands that no longer felt rough enough, violent enough, passionate enough. It was even more agonizing than the ache of wounded skin, and he couldn't even scratch it off nor forget about - it was nauseating. He wanted to feel untouchable; he felt overwhelmed instead. And yet, there was no way out - he must control the emotions raging inside the fragile body of his, even if he was already overfilled, because he would never let them master him, god forbid. He must keep them buried under the pristine facade of his. It would be so much easier if they just flowed out of him while he kept his masks on, but they weren't like water, transparent and evaporating with the sunrays - they were viscous, sticky tar in his lungs and mind and soul. They had permanently stained him, spoiling the balance he strived to maintain with all his being.

Before he had fallen asleep, held by the man he hated more than anything and anyone, what had happened to him?

A smirk stretched his lips and, before he even realized it, he was laughing out the cold, metallic sound of his ego being tore apart by a reality he couldn't ignore anymore.

How could it be that he, Orihara Izaya, had just suffered from a panic attack?


By the time Shizuo reached the place where the wheelchair rested, the hold around his neck had tightened and he started to sense Izaya's hushed giggles tickling his skin. When a deep growl escaped his lips, the laugh only became louder.

"Flea?"

The hold tightened even more, until Shizuo felt Izaya's shoulder across his own neck and their chests being pressed together. After the initial shock, Shizuo thought that it would have been a hug, a very affectionate hug indeed, if Izaya hadn't chuckled in his usual creepy way.

Or, perhaps, it was better like this.

No, surely it was better like this, because it would have been way too awkward if Izaya hadn't giggled at all and had just embraced him ignoring their bond of hate and, now, their bond of death.

However, even if that strange hug unsettled him, Shizuo decided to let him do. Even if the brush of black hair against his neck and cheek excited goose bumps all over the skin, he let Izaya's arms shift on his back. Unable to think of what to do and too embarrassed to say anything, Shizuo just held him in silence, waiting for his giggles to calm down, as though Izaya was weeping instead.

Before the tragedy, Shizuo couldn't understand Izaya at all. Or, better, it was the logic under the flea's actions that was a mystery to him. Izaya's reactions had always been obscure to him, his emotions too, so it was impossible for him to feel anything like empathy for the flea. Commiseration? Never. He was aware he hadn't spared Izaya's life because he had pitied him; he was sure he hadn't manage to kill him because he wasn't strong enough to do it. Furthermore, he realized he hadn't carried Izaya with him during his wandering out of sympathy for his injured body. Shizuo just couldn't stand the loneliness of what he was sure would have been the last voyage of his life. In other words, he hadn't been strong enough to die alone.

Now, Shizuo still couldn't understand Izaya at all. He hadn't been hit with a sudden realization that made him able to clearly see the secrets Izaya kept hidden under that mocking face of his. Izaya's masks were just impossible for anyone to pierce unless the man himself broke them from the inside. But when it happened, the cracks stood out everywhere, thin and yet so bad-plastered they had no chance to hide.

He still couldn't understand him, but while Izaya embraced him, laughing like a mad man, Shizuo feared he was feeling the other man shatter in his arms.

The thought crossed his mind as an electric flash, making his head spin - would he be able to kill Izaya once they left this place? There had already been the right moment to kill him, but he had failed miserably. Now, without the homicidal instinct that drove him to chase the flea to the end of the earth, the thought of killing Izaya alone made his hands powerless, his legs numb and his lungs craving for air. Would he be able to feel Izaya's life slip through his fingers without batting an eyelid? Would his determination not falter when red eyes became unfocused, and every grain of life - of warmth - flowed out of his enemy's body? What would Shizuo's reaction be when Izaya ceased to exist as human being and became just an echo resonating in his memory?

When Shizuo felt Izaya's fingers clenching his shirt, his own hold tightened in return.

Izaya must have sensed it, because the laughter died miserably in his throat, leaving them in the eerie silence of this desolate place.

Shizuo couldn't see what expression was on Izaya's face now, nor could he read the thoughts passing through his mind - he could only look away from the man and hold him. It was awkward; he couldn't control the twitch of his own fingertips across Izaya's back and legs. It wasn't the first time he kept Izaya close, but during their escape Izaya had been unconscious. Now, Shizuo could feel Izaya clenching his shirt, knuckles pressing so hard into his flesh they seemed driven by anger.

Anger, hopelessness, self-hatred because his strategic plan to destroy the enemy had failed - perhaps Izaya felt this way; he felt lonely, he felt trapped. But Shizuo had no proof to confirm it, and he could do nothing to discover what was in the flea's brain. He could only stand still, looking ahead toward the direction where he knew the village was, waiting for a sign to put Izaya down, because instinct suggested that Izaya needed time to release the tension from his fingers and to force his chest to stop jerking like he was desperately trying to hold back tears.

Shizuo thought there would be nothing shameful if Izaya just cried his heart out. He had cried so many times after his little brother died that he had lost count, and he would like to tell Izaya he would hold him the same standard; he wouldn't laugh at him or consider him a less valuable rival if he showed how much what had happened affected him.

"Cry, Izaya, just cry."

He tasted the words on his tongue, over and over, and every time they sounded an absurd thing to say out loud - especially to him.

When he finally put Izaya down on the wheelchair, not a teardrop glistened on dark eyelashes or pale cheeks. Izaya's scarlet eyes were dry, the tension still raging inside his lithe frame. When their eyes met, Izaya's lips crooked up in a smirk that tasted so bitter, so uncertain, so fake.

And yet, a few minutes after they headed toward the village, like nothing happened, Izaya tilted his head back and chirped:

"Ne, Shizu-chan!"

The tone of his voice was playful as always, but his fingers still trembled slightly.

"Hmm?"

"Couldn't we go faster?"

"Give me a good reason to do it," Shizuo drawled, inhaling tobacco deep in his throat. He jolted when Izaya suddenly turned, a pout on his face.

"I'm bored!"

"Hah?! Would you like to walk in my place?!"

"Pleeeease!"

Shizuo exhaled loudly. "You're such a pain in the ass, louse," he said, stamping the cigarette out under the sole of his sneakers. But, despite his words, Shizuo sped up the pace.

He didn't run as fast as he could.

He did, however, run fast enough to feel wind in his hair and to see Izaya laughing and spreading his arms, like a bird, to enjoy the breeze.


Shizuo stopped running halfway home, when the only sound coming from Izaya was a faint snore. He had a stitch in his side and he was hungry as well. No, hungry was an understatement, he was so famished he would like to eat every morsel of food in Kyouko's shop, even that strange black bread and the one with olives. His stomach rumbled, menacingly, but at least kept him company during the solitary journey.

Izaya woke up with a jolt in one of the narrow lanes of the village. The louse stretched his limbs, and dared to say, like nothing happened:

"Oh, I took a nap!"

Nap? You slept for a fucking eternity!

Before Shizuo could growl a reply, Izaya shouted: "Look, look!"

Shizuo followed the finger pointed toward a spot in the lane they were crossing with, but he didn't see anything.

"There's a cat, Shizu-chan! A black one!" Izaya shouted, before he started clicking his tongue to gain said cat's attention.

As the cat came closer, with his thin tail raised, Shizuo recognized him as the bothersome kitten he met the day before when he came back from work late at night. Instinctively, he drew back.

"Let's go. It's late," he mumbled and began pushing the wheelchair, but Izaya turned to look at him straight in the eye, grabbing one of his wrists.

"Please!"

"I said it's-"

"Please, Shizu-chan, one minute only!"

"God, Izaya, you're such a child..."

Nonetheless, the wheels stopped turning, and Shizuo began scratching the back of his head. Izaya didn't respond to the insult, all focused as he was in trying to make the cat come closer. His hand lowered to the ground and he clicked his tongue again, but the cat tottered away.

"Shizu-chan, he went away!"

"You'll meet him again, he usually hangs around here."

Izaya's eyes closed to slits and his chin tilted up. "How do you know it?"

"I met him yesterday," Shizuo replied, just to add one moment later: "Come on, flea, don't take it personal. Today he has probably better things to do than to be petted, but the next time he won't go away."

"And how do you know he likes to be petted?"

"For fuck's sake, Izaya, don't make me lose it! I couldn't fucking shake him off!"

"Hahaha really? And why didn't you carry him home?"

"ARE YOU MAD? Of course I couldn't bring him home! I couldn't bring him home 'cause-"

Shizuo began ruffling his hair, as he turned his head to avoid that Izaya scrutinized him. "Fear," he muttered in the end.

"Eh? He of you?"

"No, idiot!"

Shizuo tried to ignore Izaya when his jaw dropped and his red eyes became impossibly wide with surprise. But when a laugh escaped the flea's lips, Shizuo felt annoyance stirring up the blood in his veins.

"Are you serious?!"

"Fuck you."

"Really, how could it be that someone like you fears a kitten?"

Shizuo craved to punch him in the face, and he would have done it, if it wasn't for the undertone of concern in Izaya's voice. It unsettled him.

"You don't understand, flea."

"Make me."

"Why do you care?"

Izaya exhaled. "Use your head for once, Neanderthal. I'm stuck with you until I can walk on my own and, I'm not a doctor, but I assume I won't be able to do it tomorrow, or the day after." Despite the intimidating sounds coming from Shizuo's gritted teeth, he kept talking. "Of course you will find a way to avoid the cat, since you fear him! So, I must understand the reasons for such unjustified fear and convince your tiny, tiny brain there's nothing to worry about. Is it the claws? Did they tell you when you were a child that they'll gouge your eyes if you pet them? Did they tell you-"

"IZAYA!" It took Shizuo few seconds to convey his thoughts into words and not into feral growls. "Listen, listen carefully and DON'T-FUCKING-TALK until I've finished, okay? And don't you dare laugh at me!"

Izaya waited for the explanation with a cattish grin on his face.

"I fear the effect of my strength on them. What if my control slips, hah? If they get hurt I won't be able to forgive myself, understand?"

"Hmm, I see," the flea said. "But look, you take a good care of me. It's not like every time you carry me I find myself with a broken bone."

Shizuo shook his head, and his gaze fell on Izaya's wrists.

"You were trying to kill me, back then," Izaya replied, quietly.

"But you're strong, they're small and delicate. God, he was almost smaller than my hand, what if I-"

"Stop it already," Izaya said, his voice so calm it left Shizuo gaping and hanging off his words. "You won't hurt him, and tomorrow I'll show you."

After Izaya sent him a last glance that didn't allow for any but, Shizuo began directing the wheelchair back home. However, they didn't even manage to turn the corner when the wheelchair stopped again. When Izaya turned with a questioning look, he almost split his sides laughing. Shizuo's body, indeed, was completely frozen with fear, because the black cat they had seen before was now brushing his small head against the former soldier's calf, purring loudly.

"Ah, here he is! Shizu-chan, he is so small!"

"Fuck, I know!" Shizuo managed to say through gritted teeth.

Izaya giggled, then he clicked his tongue to beckon the cat's attention.

Shizuo dared to look down, and exhaled a breath of relief when he noticed the cat seemed more interested in Izaya now. The kitten toddled toward his open hand, and began brushing against Izaya's thin fingers.

Enraptured, Shizuo admired the way pale fingertips moved, delicate as dancers, brushing the scrawny kitten behind his ears and scratching his chin. The kitty closed his amber eyes and surrendered to the skillful ministrations.

Then, Izaya's eyes were back on Shizuo, the piercing gaze making the blonde's throat bob.

"Come," Izaya mouthed, while his fingers found their way in the soft fur of the kitten's back, petting it.

"Open your hand and relax," Izaya said when Shizuo knelt down at his side. His voice was like velvet, somehow soothing the tension in Shizuo's muscles so he managed to open his right hand.

"Good. Now keep it relaxed, nothing bad is going to happen," Izaya whispered.

When soft fur brushed his fingertips, Shizuo closed his eyes. As soon as his hand began shivering, he regretted ever having believed, even just for an instant, that his hands could be as graceful as Izaya's, no matter if he wanted it with all his being. Of course he would fail, and soon Izaya would laugh at him, reminding him he was a monster. Instead, Izaya's unexpected words "Good, you're doing fine," left him shocked. Through his fingers, now frozen in place, Shizuo sensed how much warmth and pulsing life there was hidden under the fur.

"He's warm."

Words came out from his mouth wavering, barely more than a whisper.

"He really is," Izaya replied, softly.

"He is so scrawny."

Izaya hummed. "True. We should buy some cat food, ne?"

Shizuo nodded, his eyes still closed. But even if he couldn't see any of what lay beyond his eyelids, he could sense everything. And it was enough. The softness of fur and voice was enough, at least for a first step. Feeling brave, Shizuo's hand shifted from the cat's arched back to the scruff of his neck.

Here, he found him.

Just for an instant, Izaya's skillful touch was on the back of Shizuo's hand rather than on fur. Even if Izaya's fingers were a firm synergy between bones, muscles and nerves, on his skin, Shizuo sensed just a soft caress of feathers. Izaya drew a linear path, with barely more pressure than the air they were breathing but, immediately after, Shizuo felt it begin to burn like pale fingertips had marked his skin with fire.

Shizuo drew his hand back.

When he opened his eyes, Izaya was too intent in petting the kitten to look back at him. Like nothing happened, those fingers kept drawing spiraling paths on fur, like it was their personal canvas.

"Shizu-chan! We should bring him with us!" Izaya chirped, and Shizuo was almost relieved in hearing the playful undertone in his voice. "Just to give him something to eat!"

Shizuo ruffled his hair violently, his cheeks feeling warmer than usual.

"Okay, okay, we'll give him food and then we'll make him go."

Izaya replied with his usual cattish grin.

"Such a pest you are, flea!"

"Put him on my lap," Izaya said casually, patting his thighs.

"Like hell I'm gonna do that."

It didn't matter if Izaya complained that his injured wrists prevented him from lifting the cat, Shizuo wouldn't ever do it. Petting a kitten's fur was already something he never thought he would manage to do, and taking a kitten in his arms was way more dangerous. He wasn't ready. And then, he didn't want to spoil everything when he felt lighthearted, more self-confident and, even if it hurt his pride a bit to admit it, thankful. So he started moving the wheelchair back home, slowly enough for the kitten to follow them, even with his tottering steps. Every now and then, Shizuo paused, waiting, if the cat stopped to look at some bird chirping on the eaves or to sniff the cobblestone, searching for food. It took Shizuo double the usual time to reach the uphill road where their house was.

Luckily, right at the start of the hill, the scrawny cat jumped on Izaya's lap and began purring and kneading his legs. The flea laughed.

"We should give him a name, ne?" Izaya said.

Shizuo knew he should reply: "We're not gonna let him stay, Izaya", but he hummed instead. He couldn't explain why he felt so warmed, just as he couldn't understand why he was going to take care of something he feared to hurt so much.

Probably, it was because Izaya had laughed sincerely.

Probably, it was because he still felt a bit dizzy and euphoric. It was just a hint, a barely perceptible glimmer he had moved a tiny step forward and, for once, he hadn't brought only destruction. He had just petted a cat without hurting him. In his arms, this afternoon, Izaya had found calm and fallen asleep.

Shizuo could still feel the sensation of holding him.

It scared him how it didn't feel new at all. After all, he could strive to erase from his memory how he had kept Izaya close during their escape, but his body remembered it just fine - Izaya's breath, the soft touch of his hair and his presence making Shizuo feel better in return.

Like echoes, those sensations kept resounding in Shizuo's memory.

And, before he could even realize it, they were already indelible.


A/N: Thanks to my beta, Aira Kay!